Author's note.
We're going to have a funeral... For Our Dear Sarge...
He was so young...
Disclaimer
Halo, Halo 2, Halo 3, Halo Reach, and Halo Wars are all owned by Bungie and Microsoft. Red vs Blue and related are owned by Rooster Teeth. All original Characters are owned by the author. This is a none profit fan saga.
All Flamers and Such can go Fuck anything that moves.
Chapter 4 - Not One of Us
It was early in the morning when Sarge had decided to wake everyone up and command that he needed a burial service. Deanis already had a major headache and was weak in the knees when she came, so was grumpier than usual.
Ignoring a shower, putting on her armor, skipping breakfast, grabbing a shovel and digging a six foot long grave while Simmons tries to make a grave stone. It was an hour or two later when everything was finish, as much as it could. Deanis's boots and small parts of her armor were now covered in dirt. The grave stone was basically a rock roughly shaped with 'Sarge' carved into it. Sarge's shotgun was lain on its feet infront of the open hole in the ground.
"Dearly beloved," Simmons began, "we are gathered here today, to pay our final respects to Sarge."
"But I was so young!" Sarge sobbed, "And violent!"
"And that's what makes this so tragic," Grif said. It didn't take long before Deanis started tuning out the entire thing because of everyone's stupidity.
"And now, Grif has asked to say a few things about our beloved Sarge," Simmons finished, and left the area everyone dubbed the stage. Grif came up.
"Hey everybody, it's great to be here," He started, holding his fist to his helmet's mouth like he was holding a microphone, "Well, what can I say about a guy like Sarge. I mean besides, 'good riddance'. Hoooo." Almost everyone tried to suppress a laugh, except for Sarge, who stood almost dumbstruck. "But seriously, Sarge lived a great life. And now that he's dead, our lives are pretty good too. Zing! Hahahahaa, you know what I'm talking about."
"Come on, is this a remembrance or a roast?" Sarge asked, putting his hands on his hips.
"Quiet in the front row," said Grif, "And I'm not askin', and he's not tellin', but I heard when Donut first came to the base, Sarge spent a lot of time talkin' about glazed doughnut holes, if you know what I mean. Hiyoooo."
"Fucking sick!" Deanis called.
"Too soon!" Simmons called.
"Hey now," said Grif.
"This is the worst funeral I've ever had!" Sarge yelled, "You losers better step up the crying, pronto!"
"Oh, don't worry Sir," Simmons conferred, "I've written a stirring speech that's sure to tug at everyone's heartstrings."
"Good to hear it, now get with the eulogizing!"
"On it Sir," and Simmons ran to the 'stage'.
"And who could forget the time Sarge showed us all how to field strip Simmons's-"Grif was cut off.
"Okay that's enough, I said five minutes Grif," Reminded Simmons.
"Bye everybody, I'll be appearing at the Laugh Cavern every Tuesday. Ladies drink free," Grif signed off.
"Whoohoo!" Sister called.
"Not you!"
"Aw…"
"I wouldn't drink with you, even if you'd paid me," Deanis called.
"I said ladies," replied Grif.
"Okay, whatever, get off," Simmons said and then started, "Hello everyone. I'm here to say a few words about our friend Sarge."
"Boo, you suck," Grif jeered.
"Grif, get off the stage!"
"Uh, sorry."
"Okay, like I was saying," Simmons continued, "I'm here to say a few words about Sarge."
"Boooo, you suck!" Grif continued to jeer.
"As you all know, Sarge was a magnificent leader," Simmons said, ignoring Grif,"and he was a great inspiration to all his troops."
"Yeah I don't see any truth in that!" Deanis called.
"Hh," Sarge sobbed, "Simmons was right, this is so emotional. Where's my hankie?"
"He was a man of honor, discipline, and character," Simmons said.
"It's like he's saying what we're all thinking…" said Sarge.
"I'm pretty sure he'd be insulting you idiots if he were saying what I was thinking," Deanis muttered.
"But perhaps his greatest accomplishment, as a military man..." Simmons said.
"Tell it!" called Sarge.
"And a friend..."
"Preach on, preach on."
"Was developing my considerable skills as a soldier and a leader."
There was a brief pause.
"What?" said Sarge.
"As you all know," continued Simmons, "Sarge's untimely demise leaves a gap in our command structure. A gap that is best filled by Sarge's right hand man. A man that has a vision for the Red Team."
"Sarge is-is he campaigning for your job at your funeral?" Grif asked, "Classy."
"The Red Army is faced with a difficult choice. The choice of who will lead us to glorious victory. Let's hope they choose a great candidate. A candidate whose armor is actually a shade of red. Sarge would have wanted it that way. Choose Simmons. It's the only thing Sarge did in life, so don't let his whole existence be in vain. In closing, somebody died, vote for me."
"That Sucked!" Deanis called.
"A-wesome speech!" Grif called.
"Is this the kind of thing you guys do all day?" Sister asked.
"Pretty much," Grif answered, "Just run with it. It's the only thing that keeps you from going insane from boredom."
"Yeah... or we could raid the medical supplies for morphine."
"Hyeah. Wait what?"
"I'm up," Deanis said, and walked on the 'stage'. She turned and faced the audience, "Alright, I'm Deanis, Sarge's favored fighter."
"Yay!" Sister called.
"Shut the fuck up!" Deanis snapped and continued, "And Honestly, I think this is the stupidest fucking thing I have possibly ever been a part of. Sarge, you're not dead, Command is full of shit, and everyone knows it."
"You suck at creativity!" Grif called.
"Seriously, I had to dig a hole to bury you in," Deanis said to Sarge, "the only way this'll be a funeral is if I shoot you and then bury you, and I ain't doin' that."
"Deanis, you're supposed to be eulogizing!" Sarge said, "Not filling in a complaint report!"
"Uggh… Fine," Deanis said, and then looked at the audience in as a whole, she took a deep breath, "For the time that I've been stationed here, I've been run over, knocked out, insulted, breatin' the breath taking shit out of Grif, and nearly mangled everyone on blue team…" Deanis sighed, "As for Sarge... Well, my own father had fought and died during the War, and that left a lot of strain in my life. No matter how creatively suicidal, or how incredibly closed minded Sarge was and still is mind you, I've always seen him as a sort of father figure. I still see him like as that, even if now he's acting like a fuckin' moron, good evening or whatever."
Deanis left the stage, with Grif called "Boo" behind her. It was Sister's turn, and the girl came up.
"Ooh ooh ooh, can I go again?" Grif asked, "I just thought of a swear word that rhymes with Kentucky."
"Hey everybody," Sister started, "Um, I'm new here, and I didn't know Sergeant very well, but he was very old, and that's gross".
"Eh-heheh, I wrote that line," Grif said.
"Grif, let other people have the spotlight for once," Simmons snapped.
"Anyway, when you're old and gross, you're probably going to die, and that's kind of sad," Sister continued, "But when you think about it, all your friends are probably dead too. And if they're not then they're definitely old, and knowing old people is even sadder than being dead. So, anyway, whatever. Peace out."
"This is a miserable excuse for a ceremony," Sarge complained, "Where's the flag folding? Where's the twenty-one gun salute?"
"Sir, the flag is an important part of our inventory," Simmons explained, "We can't just go around having impromptu foldings because we feel like it."
"And I was in charge of the twenty-one gun salute," Grif said, "Unfortunately we don't have twenty-one guns, so you'll have to settle for what I call the double-bun salute. It starts in just a few moments."
"Uhgh, I'll just get in my grave now," Sarge grunted and walked to the six foot hole and jumped in.
"Yeah, maybe that's for the best Sir," Simmons said. He and Deanis grabbed shovels.
"Oh, come on, who dug this grave? It's not nearly regulation."
"Uhg, Simmons let's cover his head first," Grif suggested, though he wasn't using a shove, or doing anything at all.
"Come on, you call that buryin'?" Sarge continued. I've had Girl Scouts bury me better. Put yer backs in to it."
"This might be a bad time to ask," Simmons said while shoveling dirt on Sarge, "but... have you finished that letter of recommendation I asked for?"
"Step to it men, bury faster!" Sarge snapped, "I'm not getting any deader. Come on, double time you maggots! Oh hey look, maggots. Maybe these guys know what they're doing."
"He's the chattiest corpse I've ever seen," Grif commented.
"Work that shovel like a hoe," Sarge said, "Work that hoe like a shovel."
Sarge continued to complain until his voice was muffled in the dirt, and then silence as the grave was patted down, the shovels stuck into the new grave.
"So how much oxygen do you think Sarge has in his suit?" Grif asked.
"Oxygen?" Simmons said.
"Yeah, you know, to breathe and stuff."
"Oh, you know, probably like three hours depending on his level of activity."
"He's buried six feet underground. I don't think he's got much chance for activities."
"Well, I don't think you're an authority."
"Authority? We didn't even use a coffin, we just threw a buncha dirt on him."
"No, we threw a bunch of dirt on him," Deanis corrected, "You two made digging noises with your mouths."
"You know that trick?" Grif asked his sister.
"I learned from the best!" She replied.
"Well, as your new Commander you're both gonna learn a little discipline," Simmons said, "And we're gonna start by running laps around the base. Sister, you can do girly laps."
"You mean after we dig up Sarge," Grif said.
"No I mean right now, Grif." Simmons went over and took the shotgun placed at the foot of the gravestone. He cocked it.
"What're girly laps?" Sister asked.
"Hey, Simmons?" Grif said, "I don't think Sarge is gonna like you picking up his shotgun. And I really don't think he's gonna like you threatening me with it. ...Well okay, he might like that part."
"As the new leader, what I say goes," Simmons said, "So everyone needs to start running, right now."
"What about Sarge?" Deanis snapped, "I'm not just going to leave him underground!"
"You heard what Command said. Sarge is dead. He died of..." Simmons paused and asked, "what'd he die of?"
"Aspirin overdose," Sister said.
"See, Sarge is dead of a- an Aspirin overdose? Really?"
"I know! I didn't think it was possible. And trust me, I've tried."
"Yeah, wait- what?"
"Simmons, don't be stupid!" Grif said, "He's not dead, he's just lying underground covered in dirt."
"If I say he's dead, he's dead. Ah'm the leader, me!" Simmons argued, "And being the leader means you have to make tough decisions. Like, just for talking back, you can't do girly laps."
"You're blind with false power, Simmons," Deanis said, and she took her own pistol.
"On the contrary," Simmons said, as they both aimed guns at each other, "I think I've gone blind with very real power."
"Seriously," Sister said, "what the fuck are girly laps!"
"All of you, shut up," Simmons commanded, "You're running. I'm calling Red Command for confirmation."
"Why're you calling Red Command?" Sister asked.
"For con-fir-mation. Stop asking questions."
"You keep talking about them," Sister whined, "Why don't you call our guys?"
"Our guys?" Grif asked.
"Yeah, the Blue guys."
"Excuse me? The What?" Deanis asked.
"The Blue guys," Sister repeated, "The guys that sent me here. In the big ship."
"Grif?" Deanis said.
"Uhh, yeah, this might be a bad time to bring up the fact that my Sister is color blind," Grif explained.
"WHAT?" Deanis and Simmons said in unison.
"But girls can't be color blind!" Simmons said.
"Yeah? Well they say girls can't ejaculate either. But guess what!" Sister said.
"Yeah! Wait what?"
"I can't believe it," Simmons said, "With such a simple espionage plan the Blues have decimated our forces. Quick quick, get me a shovel! Uho, Sarge is gonna be pissed!" He grabbed the nearest shovel and started digging out the fresh grave.
"Hey, Simmons," Grif said, "if she's not here for Sarge, who the hell is she here to replace?"
So sad.
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Chapter 4 - "Not One of Us"