AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, I've decided to take a break from my Harry Potter fanfic and write a little something on the side, this time based on the amazingly funny Red vs. Blue. Forgive me, for I've only watched the first six episodes, but I already love Simmons and Grif, so I decided to whip up an OC and throw in a bit of humor. More is to come, just please be patient. Also, kind constructive criticism is welcome, as I'm sure to have many mistakes about the characters.


"You've got to be fucking kidding me," she snorted, taking off her helmet as though the view would somehow change into something less unpleasant. A gruff Red was barking orders at his subordinates, and one in particular was starting to bug her.

"Anything you say, sir!" shouted a private in deep maroon colored armor. To see somebody suck up so much to a superior made Lori's stomach turn. She dearly hoped that she would see as little as possible of him.

"You! Get down here!" barked Sarge, waving to Lori from the bottom of the hill she was standing on. "I don't care if you're new; you've got work to do!" Lori grimaced and marched down the hill until she came within four feet of him.

"You rang?" she drawled, leaning on her gigantic sniper rifle, which she affectionately named Trixie. Sarge looked over a clipboard he held in one hand.

"Georgiana Maryanne Lori… God damn, got a long enough name?" he muttered, waving away her bubbling retort with his other hand. "Oh well, it doesn't matter. Says here you're a damn good shot with that rifle." Lori squared her shoulders with pride, smirking.

"Yes, sir," she replied, tapping her nose knowingly. Sarge paused for a moment.

"I'm putting you on as watch," he said abruptly. Lori's jaw dropped in horror.

"WHAT?!" she exclaimed. "But you just said—!"

"Someone's got to get these boys in line," Sarge said loudly over her angry spluttering. "If you can whip 'em into shape, then I'll let you handle infiltration of the Blues' base." Lori was quiet for a moment, and then she scoffed.

"I'll have them falling in quicker than you can say 'Ghost,'" she spouted confidently. Sarge only nodded curtly as she passed him to get to the building that housed the bunks. Her room was down at the end of the hall, next to one that had a door emblazoned with Dutch and Irish crests. Lori only snorted and shook her head, dropping her duffel onto her small mattress and shoving Trixie under the bed.

She turned as she heard the clink of metal on metal nearing her room, and the next thing she knew, a rather good looking man appeared in the doorway. His helmet was under his arm, bright maroon in color.

The man himself was clean shaven, with dirty blonde hair that was a bit shaggy for a crew cut and bright green eyes. He had an air of smugness and duty about him, but Lori remembered seeing him out on the field sucking up to Sarge; she wasn't fooled for a second. Deciding it would be best to hold off introducing herself, Lori instead occupied her time by clipping up her brown and blonde highlighted hair.

"Welcome to hell," the maroon private smirked. Lori gave him a steady look, unimpressed.

"Been there. It's lovely in the winter," she replied. "And you are?"

"Private First Class Dick Simmons," he recited proudly, puffing out his chest.

"Shame, I figured your last name would be Head, considering how much of a suck up you are."

"And your name?" Simmons asked, ignoring her remark.

"Just call me Lori," the grey-eyed woman responded. She pulled off her upper body armor, revealing a slim, toned figure with small breasts covered by a white tank top. "Sarge put me in charge as babysitter for you lot, but seeing as you're his lapdog already, you and I shouldn't have any problems." Simmons nodded, stroking his chin.

"Guess I'll just have to make your life here a living hell to make up for that," he replied, grinning at her. Lori smirked dryly at him.

"Bring it on, Magenta Man."

"It's maroon," he corrected her. "You know, a shade of red."

"Yeah, but Magenta just has such a nice ring to it. Don't you think?"

"And I'm sure fire engine red is very popular with ages six and under."

Lori opened her mouth to offer a smart retort, but then Sarge's voice blared deafeningly over the loudspeakers, telling the team that there was a truckload of food that had better get eaten or it would be thrown to the Blues. Simmons immediately swept out of the room, but Lori hung back for a moment, digesting her first half hour with the Reds.

Yup, this was going to suck.