Episode 2

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(I don't own any thing but my original character, everything red vs blue belongs to rooster teeth)

Grif and Simmons, who are approaching another Red soldier (Sarge) clad in red armor.

Sarge: Hurry up, ladies. This ain't no ice cream social.

Simmons: Ice cream social?

Simmons and Grif exchange looks.

Sarge: Stop the pillow talk, you two. Anyone want to guess why I gathered you here today?

Grif: Uh, is it because the war's over and you're sending us home?

Sarge: (Sarcastically) That's exactly it, Private. War's over. We won. Turns out you're the big hero and we're gonna hold a parade in your honor. I get to drive the float, and Simmons here IS IN CHARGE OF CONFETTI!

Grif: I'm no stranger to sarcasm, sir.

Sarge: Goddamn it, Private! Shut your mouth or else I'll have Simmons slit your throat while you're asleep!

Simmons: Oh I'd do it, too.

Sarge: I know you would, Simmons. Good man. (brief pause) Couple of things today, ladies. Command has seen fit to increase our ranks here at Blood Gulch Outpost Number One.

Grif: Crap. We're getting a rookie.

Sarge: That's right, dead man. Our new recruit will be here within the week, but today we received the first part of our shipment from Command.

Grif and Simmons exchange looks again.

Sarge turns towards a hill behind them.

Sarge: Lopez, bring up the vehicle.

A large, armor-plated, jeep-like vehicle comes over the rise with Lopez in the driver seat, who pulls up along side the Reds.

Simmons: Shotgun!

Grif: Shotgun! (realizes he is too late) Fuck.

Sarge: May I introduce our new, light reconnaissance vehicle. It has four inch armor plating, mag bumper suspension, a mounted machine gunner position, and total seating for three. Gentlemen, this is the M12 LRV! I like to call it the Warthog.

Simmons: Why Warthog, sir?

Sarge: Because M12 LRV is too hard to say in conversation, son.

Grif: I know, but why Warthog? I mean, it doesn't really look like a pig.

Sarge: (after a brief pause) Say that again.

Grif: I think it looks more like a puma.

Sarge: What in Sam Hell is a puma?

Simmons: Uh, you mean like the shoe company?

Grif: No, like a puma. It's a big cat, like a lion.

Sarge: You're making that up.

Grif: I'm telling you, it's a real animal!

Sarge: Simmons, I want you to poison Grif's next meal.

Simmons: Yes, sir!

Sarge: (pointing at the front of the Warthog) Look, see these two tow hooks? They look like tusks, and what kind of animal has tusks?

Grif: A walrus.

Sarge: Didn't I just tell you to stop making up animals?!

Cut to a view of the Reds through the sniper rifle scope.

Samantha is wielding the rifle, with Tucker, wielding a M6D pistol and church holding Samantha's rifle.

Tucker: What is that thing?

Church: I don't know, man. Looks like uh.. looks like they've got some sorta car down there. We'd better get back to base and report it.

Tucker: (taken aback) A car? How come they get a car?!

Church: What are you complaining about, man? We're about to get a tank in the very next drop.

Tucker: (disappointed) You can't pick up chicks in a tank... wait Samantha, if I had tank would you get in it?

Samantha quickly pulls out a piece of paper and writes on it before handing it to him.

Tucker: "never in a million years"

Church: You could bitch about anything couldn't you? We're going to get a tank, and you're worried about chicks. What chicks are we gonna pick up, man? And secondly, how are you gonna pick up chicks in a car that looks like that?

Samantha gets up and hands the sniper back to church with a note that says thanks for letting me use your rifle on the side of it. he takes it and hands Samantha her assault rifle, pulling the note off and dropping it.

Tucker: (sighs) What kind of car is it?

Church: (looking through the scope of the sniper rifle) I dunno, I've never seen a car like that before. It looks like a... uh... like a big cat of some kind.

Tucker: ...What, like a puma?

Church: Yeah, man, there you go.

Back with Red Team.

Sarge: So unless anybody has anymore mythical creatures to suggest as a name for the new vehicle, we're going to stick with the Warthog. How about it, Grif?

Grif: No, sir. No more suggestions.

Sarge: Are you sure? How 'bout Bigfoot?

Grif: It's okay.

Sarge: Unicorn?

Grif: No really. Uh, I'm cool.

Sarge: Sasquatch?

Simmons: Leprechaun?

Grif: Hey, he doesn't need any help, man.

Sarge: Phoenix?

Grif: (sighs) Christ.

Sarge: Hey Simmons, what's the name of that Mexican lizard? Eats all the goats.

Simmons: Uh, that would be the Chupacabra, sir.

Sarge: Hey Grif, Chupathingy! How about that? I like it. Gotta ring to it.

(Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and are having a lovely night good bye)

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