You were one of the first freelancers and one of the best you could never fill a mission no matter what happens you always succeed no matter who you fight you always come out on top. You've lost a lot of people you care about in your life along with...
GHOST, SIMMONS, and GRIF are standing on the roof of the red base. A SOLDIER IN RED ARMOR is walking up the ramp behind them.
SIMMONS: Hey, that's not exactly what happened.
GRIF: Yes it is. You said "I'm not going to the Vegas Quadrant," and then the next thing I know you're in an escape pod headed for-
RED ARMOR: (Approaching hesitantly) Excuse me, uh, sirs
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SIMMONS: (Turns, surprised) Sirs?
GRIF: (Groans) Ah, crap.
GHOST: (A low, flat sigh) It's the rookie...
RED ARMOR: I was told to report to Blood Gulch Outpost Number One and speak to whoever's in charge?
GRIF: (Waving a dismissive hand) Sorry, man, Sarge is at Command getting orders. Ain't nobody in charge today.
SIMMONS: (Puffs out his chest, adjusting his helmet) Actually, Private, he left me in charge while he's gone. Total authority.
GRIF: (Scoffs) You are such a kiss-ass.
GHOST: (Voice dripping with disdain) Also, Sarge doesn't trust you worth shit. He also told me I'm in charge... so go fuck yourself, Simmons.
SIMMONS: (Ignoring Ghost, turning back to the rookie, clearing his throat dramatically) ...Anyways... He told me if I had any trouble from you I should... (He adopts a terrible, gravelly impression of Sarge) "Git in the Warthog, 'nd crush yer head like a tomato-can."
SIMMONS: (Ignoring them both, focusing on the rookie) Okay, rookie, what's your story? Name and serial number.
RED ARMOR: (Snapping to attention, a slight bounce in his step) Private Donut reporting for duty, sir! I'm ready to fight some aliens!
GRIF: (Raises a hand) Couple things here, rookie. First off, Private Donut? I think somebody needs a new nickname. Seriously. Secondly, what's with the armor color?
GHOST: (A sigh) I'm just gonna call him Donut... (Gestures to Donut's armor) Also, you might wanna change your color. It's... blinding.
DONUT: (Confused, looking down at his armor) Why, this is the standard issue red. It's very flattering, don't you think?
GRIF: (Exasperated) Yeah, I know. Listen. Only two kinds of people wear standard issue armor: officers and recruits. And since you're not threatening to gut me like a fish, you're probably not an officer.
DONUT: (Looks at Simmons, then Ghost) Well, he's wearing red armor... and he's wearing black and red.
SIMMONS: (Defensively) No, my armor is maroon. It's a very distinct shade. Your armor is red, rookie.
