Pan out on Grif ,Simmons, and Y/N. 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?
Y/N : Grif...
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. Y/n 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 Y/n slit your throat while you're asleep!
Y/n : With pleasure!
Y/n takes his knife out and Grif steps back.
Sarge: I know you would, Y/n. 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/ & Y/N: Shotgun!
Grif: Shotgun! (realizes he is too late) Fuck.
Sarge: May I introduce our new, light reconnaissance vehicle.
Camera closes in on the front of the vehicle and starts to move left, circling it.
A screen
Sarge: 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?
Y/n : You don't know what is puma, sir..?
Simmons: Uh, you mean like the shoe company?
Y/n : What.
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!
Y/n : Oh my bloody hell!
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?!
Y/n : Sir, walrus is a real animal!
Sarge : Look what have you done, Grif! You brainwashed Y/n. Simmon I want you to poison Grif while he sleeps!
Simmons : Yes sir!
Y/n : You must be kidding me.
Cut to a view of the Reds through the scope.
Cut to Church, wielding the rifle, and Tucker, wielding a M6D pistol.
Tucker: What is that thing?
Church lowers the rifle.
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.
Church: Oh, you know what? 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?
Tucker: (sighs) What kind of car is it?
Church: (looking through the scope of the ) 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.
Cut to 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?
Y/n : Capybara?
Grif: Hey, he doesn't need any help, man.
Sarge: Phoenix?
Grif: (sighs) Christ.
Fade to black.
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.
Y/n : What is-
Suddenly there was a digital text screen in front of Y/n's face
Frost : Chupacabra, is a legendary cryptid rumoured to inhabit parts of the Americas. Chupacabras are reportedly seen in Puerto Rico, Mexico, and the United States. This creature reportedly attacks and sucks the blood of livestock, especially goats. Physical descriptions vary.
Y/n : That's helping.
Frost : You're welcome.
