"Do you ever wonder why we're here," Simmons asked, his maroon armor shining brightly in the sunlight.
"How the fuck did we get back here," Grif questioned, orange armor too dull to reflect the sun's rays.
"Uh, we came up the ramp over there," Simmons answered, confused.
"No, I mean Blood Gulch," Grif responded, indicating the box canyon they were in, "How the hell did we get back here?"
"When did we leave," Simmons argued back.
"We haven't been here for years," Grif shouted.
"What's going on here," a gruff voice said from behind them. Simmons and Grif turned to see Sarge approaching them, red armor immaculate.
"Sir, I think Grif is having some sort of issue," Simmons reported, "He keeps talking about having left the canyon?"
"Left? Why the hell would we leave," Sarge questioned, "Those dirty Blues are still breathing! What would possibly make us leave?"
"Oh, I don't know, maybe all that stuff with Project Freelancer and everything on Chorus and Donut giving us those time-travel guns," Grif answered with a huff.
"Project What on who-da-where," Sarge questioned.
"I think maybe he has heatstroke, sir," Simmons suggested.
"Heatstroke, huh," Sarge chuckled, then pointing his shotgun at Grif, "Maybe we should just put him down."
"What," Grif questioned angrily."
"Put ya down. Euthanize ya," Sarge stated, "I'm gonna shoot ya."
"I don't have heatstroke," Grif shouted, "I don't know how you guys don't remember any of that stuff! I even learned to speak Spanish!"
"Grif learning another language? I don't believe it," Simmons said.
"I did," Grif shouted at him.
"¿El gordo dejará de gritar?" Lopez asked, brown armor well maintained.
"Hey, that's not nice wording," Grif shouted, "And no, I will not stop shouting until you guys remember!" Lopez went silent.
"There's no way he actually understood Lopez," Simmons muttered. Sarge cocked his shotgun again.
"Hey, guys," Doc said, joining them, his purple armor shining about normal.
"Doc? What are you doing here," Simmons questioned.
"Well, you see, do you guys remember that DNA test you had to give," Doc questioned.
"Yeah," Grif huffed.
"Turns out, Command wants to change things up and have people of the same lineage on the same team," Doc explained with a nervous chuckle.
"And how does that affect us," Simmons asked.
"Funny you mention that," Doc said with more nervous chuckling, "You're being reassigned."
"We're all being reassigned," Grif asked, incredulous.
"Oh, no, not ALL of you," Doc said, "Just Simmons and Donut. We needed to make room on Red Team for your new members."
"New members," Grif questioned.
"Yes," Doc answered, "Now if you would just head this way, Simmons. I already sent Donut to your guys' new team!"
"Um, ok," Simmons answered shakily, following Doc down the ramp.
"Who do you think our new members will be," Grif asked.
"Hopefully no one with heatstroke," Sarge said with a sneer. Grif glared at him, before turning back to the ramp. Doc reappeared at the top.
"So, I should introduce you to your new team members," he announced. A yellow armored soldier appeared.
"First, Kaikana Grif," Doc stated.
"Oh, right," Grif said.
"Hey bro! We get to be on the same team now," Sister stated excitedly.
"That means that I can keep a closer eye on you now," Grif huffed.
"And for number two," Doc said. He turned back to the ramp, shouting, "This way!" Sarge and Grif exchanged confused looks.
"Now presenting," Doc announced, "Michael Caboose!" Caboose, in his blue armor, appeared and waved, "Hi!"
"Caboose," Grif questioned, before throwing Sarge a VERY confused look. Sarge shook his head.
"Sarge, you are," Doc said, "NOT the father! But your brother is, so say hello to your nephew!"
"Uhhh," Sarge replied, speechless.
"But you are Grif's father," Doc added in.
"WHAT," Grif and Sarge screeched in unison.
"Yep! Didn't you guys know," Doc asked.
"THERE IS NO WAY THAT SARGE IS MY FATHER," Grif shouted, "I know my father!"
"Oh, right," Sister interjected.
"'Oh, right' what," Grif questioned, upset.
"Mom told me about it after you left," Sister continued, "She said that YOUR dad left for the war or something and never came back. She just never could tell you."
"Wh-what," Grif questioned, upset. Him and Sarge stared at each other for a full minute.
"S-son," Sarge asked.
"NOOOOOO," Grif screamed, sitting straight up.
"Oh, you're awake," Doc said.
"Awake? So I was asleep," Grif asked.
"Yep, and it looked like you were having a pretty nasty nightmare," Doc answered.
"Oh, thank God," Grif exclaimed, clutching his chest as he panted.
"What was all that about 'Not my dad'," Doc asked. There was a bunch of gargling sounds on the radio.
"A transmission? For us," Doc asked, confused.
"Where is…my… son taking you," Sarge's voice asked.
"YOUR WHAT," Grif screamed hysterically.
"Wait…sec…d," Simmons's voice said. Grif was hyperventilating.
"There we go," Simmons's voice stated more clearly, "I boosted the frequency. Who knew these things could connect our radios across time as well?"
"Hear ya loud and clear," Doc said cheerily.
"Where is the mission taking you," Sarge asked again.
"Oh, thank god," Grif sighed in relief.
"So, do you want to talk about it," Simmons asked, having ended the transmission.
"Talk about what," Sarge asked.
"That bad dream you just had," Simmons said. There was a pause.
"Sarge," Simmons questioned.
"No," Sarge answered sternly.
"Are you-," Simmons started asking.
"I said no," Sarge cut him off. Simmons watched in confusion as Sarge stormed off.
"Not my son, not my son," Sarge muttered to himself in frustration.