Red vs Blue: Heavy 'META'L

Drink Your Ovaltine

At the desert, Sarge and Grif walk away from the group.

Sarge: Hmm.

Grif: Hey Sarge, what's wrong?

Sarge: I don't like this, Grif.

Grif: What, the vision?

Tucker is talking with Caboose and Slade from a distance.

Tucker: It's a waterfall, it's literally impossible to forget! Like girlfriend dick!

Slade: Will you shut up already?!

Sarge: Yeah. I've never been what you'd call a "new age" kinda guy.

Grif: You don't say.

Sarge: But this bowling ball seems to be on a heck of a roll! Pun intended. What with the flying and the laser shooting and all.

Grif: And he can lift stuff without arms. That's pretty cool.

Sarge: That too. What if there's something to this whole vision thing? We need to call Simmons. Find out if he's seen anything out of the ordinary.

Grif: How? Our long range radio here got destroyed, and we don't have enough signal power in the jeeps to reach him.

Sarge: I think I have an idea how to fix that.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

At Valhalla, Simmons is currently kneeling next to South, as she had her torso armor off and Simmons was keeping pressure on her wound.

Simmons: Just keep breathing, South. Don't move unless you absolutely have to.

South: (moans in pain) What about your medic guy?

Simmons: He's unconscious. He'll wake up soon.... I hope.

Doc then groans as he sits up, holding his head.

Doc: Hh, mm. Ow my head. Oh.

Simmons: Doc, you're alive. Good.

Doc: Yeah, no thanks to you. Why'd you hit me?

Simmons: I didn't hit you, they did. (points at the Meta and Wash)

Doc: Jerks. Who're they?

Simmons: Help her first and I'll explain.

Doc then sees the condition South is in.

Doc: Oh, shoot! Are you okay, Miss....

South: I'm South. And no, I'm clearly not okay! I was fucking shot, jackass.....

Doc: Okay, okay, take it easy.

Doc starts scanning South's bullet wound.

Doc: So who are these guys?

Simmons: The dark one's Washington. He's a Freelancer.

Doc: Great. 'Cause those guys are always such a blast to hang around with.

South: I'm a Freelancer too, pal. But just for the record, I'm not with them.

Simmons: The big one, we call the Meta.

Doc: But rumor had it those guys were disbanded. Everyone went to jail.

Simmons: Yeah, well I guess they got paroled.

Wash: You three, quiet.

The Meta growls as his armor glitches.