Red vs Blue: Remembrance

MIA (1)

In Blood Gulch, Simmons is poking in and out of Red Base and Sarge happily singing from afar. Slade tries his best to ignore them both by working on the Warthog.

Simmons: (running around Red Base) Grif! Grif!

Sarge: (singing to himself) Dododo. It's Friday, Friday, gotta' get down on Friday, hey!

Simmons: Grif!

Sarge: (still singing) Everybody's looking forward to the weekend, weekend.

Simmons: Grif!

Sarge: (humming) Dododododo.

Simmons: HEY GRIF! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?! Hey...Sarge?

Sarge: Why hello there Simmons! What a fine morning! What can I do you for?

Simmons: Wow. You seem to be in a good mood.

Sarge: I am! I have been all day! Can't figure out why though. But I'm just gonna' go with it. Who knows why these things happen? You have to embrace them while you can.

Simmons: Hey, have you seen Grif?

Sarge: Dangit! I think I just figured it out. No, I havn't seen him.

Simmons: Yeah, me neither. Hey, Slade! What about you?

Slade: No, I haven't seen the fat fuck either. Besides, I'm trying to fix the jeep after you lot's last attempt at an 'attack' on the Blues.

Simmons: Well, he's not sleeping. It's really not like him to be up and about this early.

Sarge: Yeah, it's only 1pm. Did you check his usual napping spots?

Simmons: Yeah, I did. I checked the bunks.

Sarge: Check under the bunks too?

Simmons: And in all the foot lockers.

Sarge: What about that space between the mattress and the springs? Where he keeps those magazines.

Simmons: I did!

Sarge: Look in the mess hall pantry?

Simmons: Yeah, the food was all eaten, but he wasn't sleeping on any of the shelves.

Sarge: So... he ate all the food... but made it more than ten feet before collapsing in a food-induced coma! That really doesn't sound like him.

Simmons: I know, he could be hurt! He could be laying somewhere right now in trouble! He could even be dying! I'm worried, sir.

Sarge: What are you worried about?

Simmons: I'm... worried about all the stuff I just said.

Slade: Simmons, Sarge hates Grif with a passion. So much that he couldn't care if he was trying save another world from destruction or trying to cure some plague invading another alien race. So the day he decides to give two flying fucks about Grif, will be the day Sarge declares the Blues aren't our enemy.

Sarge: Exactly! So, don't worry Simmons. I'm sure that Grif is either perfectly fine, or he's dead.

Simmons: That seems like two extreme scenarios, sir.

Sarge: Not really, in either case, he'll just spend most of the day laying around and smelling bad. That effect on us is the same.

Simmons: You make a strong point, sir.