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...
SARGE and GRIF are watching LOPEZ and GHOST fix the Warthog, which is turned on its side to expose its juicy underbelly. Ghost is meticulously working on the engine, while Lopez holds a wrench.
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GRIF: (Still recounting his ordeal) And then I thought, you know, we could sneak around the side while they were hiding behind the rock, but uh, well that's when the tank showed up and, shit just started blowin' up. I don't know. It was chaos, sir. Pure, unadulterated chaos.
SARGE: (Exhales slowly, a deep, weary sigh) Grif, do you have any Godly idea how much this piece of equipment costs? This isn't some toy you just leave lying around for a giant metal beast to blow up!
GRIF: (Shifts uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact) Ah, I don't know, what like uh, ten, ten twenty, twenty-five bucks, maybe? Uh, yeu, you're gonna kill me now, aren't you. Please tell me it wasn't more than fifty.
GHOST: (Without looking up from his work, voice flat and chilling) Before Sarge kills you, Grif, I just want to tell you the price for this vehicle alone is 343,000 CR. And that's before upgrades.
GRIF: (His helmet snaps towards Ghost, then back to the Warthog, his voice a horrified whisper) ... Wait, that jeep cost 343,000 CR... Fuck. You're serious?
SARGE: (Slams his fist on the Warthog's chassis) YES! And I will tell you what, Grif, I'm a fair man. I'll give you a ten-second head start here before I let Lopez do anything he wants to ya. And Lopez has some very creative ideas for punishment.
Lopez stops working on the jeep, slowly stands up, and turns to face Grif, his optical sensor glowing ominously. He holds a large, menacing-looking wrench.
SARGE: (Turns to Ghost) What about you, Ghost? Do you want to come in and help? I'm sure you have some... unique contributions.
GHOST: (A low, dangerous chuckle, a flicker of red in his visor) Yeah... I will take any opportunity to hurt Grif... badly. This is a rare treat.
GRIF: (Stares at Ghost, then Lopez, then Sarge, terrified) Why do you hate me, Ghost?! What did I ever do to you?!
GHOST: (Voice cold, devoid of emotion) Oh, I don't hate you... I just want to hurt you... badly... Until your entire body is broken... and you die of blood loss... Actually, I just want you dead... slowly and painfully.
GRIF: (Scared, backing away slowly, hands up in surrender) Jesus Christ... G-Guys, I just want you to know. I'm really, really sorry here, and-
Lopez puts down his wrench, then slowly reaches for a much larger, more intimidating gun that was leaning against the Warthog.
SARGE: (Starts counting, a predatory grin in his voice) Five Mississippi. Six Mississippi.
GRIF: (Backing away faster, tripping over his own feet) Okay, uh, I guess I better get going then. This is not a drill!
