I had wanted to do this for a while now, and since my previous efforts fell flat, it took a long time. But, presenting for the very first time, a new spin on Red vs. Blue…THE SIDEWINDER CREW!

Private Steven McNeal sighed. "You know, I can not remember the last time I was so bored. It's almost like someone wanted to just bore me to death, just do away with all fun, crush every fiber of my brain…and they went overboard."

Corporal Rogers turned to him. "Yeah, Stevie, I have to agree with you. This is freakin' boring."

"Will you stop calling me that?" The private looked at his feet. "Stevie is a girl's name."

"I've never met a single female with that name."

"I doubt you've even met one female in your life."

"Give me a break. I could come up with better comebacks in my sleep."

Captain Tent sauntered up to them. "Wait a minute…what is sauntering? How can I be sauntering if I don't even know what it is?"

"Sir…who are you talking to?"

"No one, private." He shrugged. "Guess it doesn't matter anyway. But I have some news for you imbeciles."

Steve furrowed his brow. "Aren't you supposed to be supportive to us, sir?"

"I am the captain and you are the private. I can do whatever I want. And stop furrowing your brow!"

He frowned. "How do you know that I'm furrowing my brow? I have a freakin' helmet on!"

"Do not talk to your superior like that, private!" The captain clenched his fist. "Corporal, I want you to slit McNeal's throat while he's asleep."

"Sorry, sir. That's copyright improvement."

"Oh, right." Tent looked up. "Isn't that copyright infringement?"

"No, because that joke was done with Reds. We're kickbutt Blues, better in every way."

"Right. Okay." He shrugged. "There I go, shrugging again. Anyway, I need you two to clean up the base."

"Why?" Steve surveyed the floor and walls. "This place ain't so bad."

"Because, we have a general coming over. He's coming to inspect the base. And if it looks good enough, than maybe he'll promote us!"

"Or get us out of this ice hole. Either one's fine with me."

The captain sighed. "You should be happy to do your patriotic duty, private! We need all the men we can get for the war!"

"Alright. First off, patriotic duty? I'm from Alaska. If I was really patriotic, I'd be fighting in somewhere like Iraq. Or Afghanistan. Or South Dakota. Second, studies show that female soldiers perform better than males. The whole smarter-than-us thing."

Rogers chuckled. "And the 'Stevies' lead the pack?"

"Hardy har har. Don't quit your day job. And, third, why would a general come here? This place is just a canyon frozen over with all types of freaked-up mess. It has no meaning."

"This is a Halo 1 map, you idiot. They all have no meaning. They're just places to kick butt and take names."

"Alright, but what about that Chiron place?"

"True, it does have a purpose, but still, why in the world would Bungie make a level about a janitor's closet?"

Tent headed to the ladder. "Stop pointlessly chatting, ladies. I'm going to scout. Private, take the bottom floor, and Rogers, get the top. I want this place to be spotless by the time I get back!"

Steve stared at Rogers as the captain left. "How are we supposed to clean? All we have is this pistol and a machine gun capable of firing 300 rounds per second. He expects us to fight germs with this thing? I might as well stab them with a—"

"If you say anything about a dinner fork, I'll show you how fast this gun really shoots."

"Fine." He ambled over to the ladder and started to descend. "Can you show me where the vacuum is?"

"We don't have a vacuum."

"Oh. Right." He peered down the hole. "Funny, I can just float here in midair without grabbing on to any of the rungs. I think this has to defy some law of physics. Ah well."

Meanwhile, at the Red Base…

"Ah. Home sweet home."

Lieutenant Junior Grade Phillips put his hand on the wall and ran it along the smooth, metal surface. "Oh, yeah. This is more like it."

"Will you stop that!" The private's voice could be heard from the second floor. "You're freaking all the freak out of me, man!"

Phillips sighed. Rookies. They never get it at all. "Listen, private, I have been sitting in the snow for the past ten minutes. I think I can be allowed a little luxury."

"Ten minutes! Come on! I can put my shoes on, brush my teeth, eat lasagna, and polish my left toe in that time! And you think it's an excuse for your freaking behavior!"

"There's no need to shout, private. It's just I need to the touch metal about every fifteen minutes. It's a mental thing."

"You know what! I want to freaking quit! One, I get stationed in this freaking popsicle with Mr. Freaking Crazy and Sergeant Never-At-Base, two, I have no idea what day it is, three, you're creeping me out, and four, I have an itch and I can't scratch it! You know why! I have to have this freaking armor on! And I don't even get a name!"

Another no-name. They'll never understand the problems us main characters have to go through. Never. "Okay, okay, I'll stop. Just calm down."

"I AM PERFECTLY CALM! THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME! I AM COMPLETELY AT REST! IN BALANCE! WHATEVER! I AM CALM!"

"Funny, you don't sound calm."

"THAT'S BECAUSE OF ALL THIS FREAKING SH—"

Phillips climbed up the ladder and poked his head up onto the next level. "Fine, fine, I'm sorry. But you really should watch your language."

"Oh, for the love of—CAN SOMEONE TAKE THIS GUY AWAY FROM ME!"

Phillips' hand slid to his pistol. "Do you want to calm down?"

"NO! I'M FREAKING TIRED OF THIS—"

"That's great." Phillips bopped the private on the head with the butt of his sidearm. "There. Now will you shut up?"

The red-armored rookie nodded. "Yeah, I'm good. Sorry, went a little crazy back there."

"Tell me about it. That's the first time this author's had to go to caps lock for a long time. I'm sorry about bothering you."

The private shrugged. "Hey, it's okay. I guess I just got angry from the assignment, the itch, your talking, and the inevitable fact that I'll probably die off really fast."

"Wait. Is your name Rick Firse?"

"No. I don't have a name. I'm just the private."

"Good." Phillips relaxed. "We miss you, Rick. Come to think of it, we miss Mr. Frodo's brain, too."

"I'm the one writing the story, you know."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean you aren't crazy." He smiled. "Okay, we started out on a bad limb. I'm Lieutenant Junior Grade Phillips, desperately seeking a promotion to a shorter rank. And you are?"

"I told you. I'm the private. Or red-armored rookie. They're used alternately as to not say the same thing over and over."

"Isn't that guy on the Blue team sometimes referred to as the private too?"

"Yeah. Hope we never meet." The newest member of Red Team Sidewinder Division studied Phillips. "How'd you get the maroon armor?"

"This stuff? Oh, you can change your armor once you move up a rank."

The private put a hand to his chin. "So, what rank is next?"

"Better ask Natination that. He knows all about the military rank thing."

"Yeah. You know, he's pretty smart, Phillips. I mean, he actually has a forum that people join, unlike Mr. Frodo"

"You're right, private. Anyway, Sergeant Montgomery won't be back until tomorrow. At least, that's what the sergeant said yesterday. And the day before. And the day before that."

"Man, we really need a day planner."

"That's copyright infringement."

The private looked up at the heavens. "You're the one writing this stuff!"

"Oh, right. Sorry."

So, back at the now-spotless Blue Outpo—

"Wait a minute." The private clutched his gun tighter. "Why are they so popular? Why can't it focus on us for a little while longer?"

"Well, the story is going to the Blues. Than we'll end it."

"Why do the Blues get to end it?" Phillips raised his pistol to the ceiling. "Why can't we?"

"And why is their base called an outpost? We don't get an outpost, we just get a base."

Phillips nodded. "I think that to be fair, we should get some more time. Or at least close it out."

"Listen, you guys have over 750 words, while the Blues only got around 600."

"That just proves how much better we are than them."

"Will you guys shut up! You do realize that I could just kill you at any given moment, right!"

"Yeah, but then you wouldn't have the entire Red team."

The private shook his head. "What about the sergeant, that Mount Gummy guy? He's still missing."

"Fine, let's make a compromise. If you promise to shut up, I'll let you guys close out the chapter. But you have to let me switch to the Blues. Please?"

"Alright, you have yourself a deal, Mr. Frodo." Phillips grinned. "This is gonna be great."

But, little did the Red Team suspect, a special meeting was being held at 1337 headquarters…

I leaned back. "So, I have your guarantee that the Reds can be eliminated? Forever?"

"Yes." The shadowed figure extended an armored hand out across the table. "But it'll cost you."

"Alright." I took out my wallet. "How much do you want?"

"Fifty grand."

"Sorry, dude, I'm saving up for an Xbox 360. How about five bucks?"

"Make it ten." The figure lit a cigar, sending smoke wafting across the room. "You still haven't paid us for our work in gAg."

"When you actually kill one of them, you'll get that money. Besides, I have a huge library debt to pay. But a deal's a deal."

"You know, if you keep making me smoke, I'm gonna get cancer."

"Yeah, but who cares? I just need the job done."

The shady figure held out a hand. "We'll do it. You can count on it."

I handed him a Lincoln, and then stood. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I have another part of this story to write."

So, back at the now-spotless Blue Base…

"Oh, my aching arms." Steve groaned and collapsed onto the ground. "That was hard."

Rogers rubbed his hands together. "Well, now it's time for the shipment."

Steve looked up. "Shipment? What shipment?"

"I ordered a Sniper Rifle. Can't wait till it gets here."

"Wait a minute." He got to his feet. "Why do you get a Sniper Rifle? I'm working my butt off for the freakin' captain, and you get a Sniper Rifle?"

"He let me do it for good behavior. Unlike someone around here, I'm kind, courteous, and respective."

"You called Captain Tent a freakin' maniac in your sleep!"

"Unfortunately, you have no proof of this."

"Dang!" He slammed his fist into the wall. "Why won't Mr. Frodo let me use profanities!"

"Because, you shouldn't use them at all. I'll let you have 'freaking', and that's it."

"But all your other characters can use them!"

"Complaining gets you nowhere. And besides, those are Marines in military combat. I don't see them lying on the floor, whining about how tired they are from cleaning!"

"Fine. I freakin' hate this, anyway." He headed to one of the doorways. "You know, there aren't any doors here. I mean, someone can just walk right in, and we wouldn't even know. Won't the Reds exploit this by staging a surprise attack and killing us all?"

"Why bother?" Rogers strolled up next to him. "They're idiots."

"Dude, so are we."

"Yeah, but we're wearing blue."

"Point taken." Steve went back into the base. He checked to make sure Rogers hadn't followed him, and then whipped out his assault rifle. "Okay, now how do I reload this thing?"

"Wait a minute." The corporal ran up behind him. "You don't even know how to reload your rifle!" He doubled over, laughing. "That's…so…stupid!"

"Listen, you may not know this, but I'm gun intolerant, okay? I stink at finding, I really stink at shooting them, and I most definitely stink at reloading them. I can never remember which button fires and which one releases the magazine."

Rogers stopped his guffaw. "And here I thought you were just bad-tempered naturally. You're always in a bad mood because you don't know squat about reloading a gun."

"No, I've always been bad-tempered. Just this gun thing makes me so mad I want to…to…punch something."

"Which explains why you slammed your fist into the wall back there."

"No, that was because I can't utter profanities. Anyways, can you just teach me how to reload this thing?"

"Sure." Rogers moved closer. "Okay, first you have to hit the button."

"Which button? This button?"

"No, not that—"

BOOM!

So, with Blue Base now gone, we go back to the Reds…

"What the heck was that?"

Phillips darted to where the private was standing at the second level's opening. "What? What is it?"

"I thought I heard this boom…"

"Really?" Phillips furrowed his brow. "How did it sound?"

"Kind of like—"

BOOM!

"Whoa." Phillips grinned. "That was pretty good."

"But that wasn't me."

They looked out the viewpoint. Phillips' mouth hung open. "No…freakin'…"

The private chuckled. "Hey, this is the end of the story."

"What?" Phillips turned to him. "Dude, we were supposed to close it out with something dramatic, you know, something with pizzazz."

"Yeah, but Mr. Frodo couldn't think of an ending that was any good."

"Oh, right. Ah well. I guess its time to say good-bye."

"That's okay. I already did say farewell. To love."

A piano started to play. Phillips frantically surveyed the room. "Where's the freakin' escape ladder!"

The private hummed some background notes. Phillips dove out the exit. "Don't make me listen to him! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

He hit the ground and remembered no more.