Disclaimer: I don't own Red Vs Blue or any other references or characters mentioned, used, excreta, excreta, excreta, blah, blah, blah.
Episode 9: The Ghost and The Freelancer
Doughnut was starting to get a little worried. Marley had left almost ten minutes ago and shortly after, explosions had started up in the canyon. Grif and Simmons were still out there! So, once the two came running up the ramp, breathing hard, and Grif looking a little sooty, he just had to ask, "What happened?"
"Big. Tank. Shooting. Whoo!" Grif huffed. He was overplaying it a little, but that tank had really scared him and trying to make sure you're a tough target while running pellmell toward your base, screaming intermittently, took it out of a guy.
"Dang man. We only ran, like, 300 feet," Simmons remarked. Grif stopped panting, stood back up, and glared at the other soldier, though it wasn't as effective with the full face helmet hiding his expression.
"Yeah, well, it was scary. And I was trying to convey how terrifying getting shot at by a huge, missile spitting, A.I. Voiced, fudging tank was!" he said defensively. Simmons shrugged.
"Whatever man," he said dispassionately. Looking around the yard outside their base, another question came to Doughnut's mind.
"Where's the jeep?" he asked.
"Well, General Patton over here had the bright idea of leaving it behind," Simmons drawled mockingly, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at Grif. Doughnut chuckled quietly, leaning back against the base. These guys might be completely insane, and quite likely incompetent, but man were their arguments turning out to be hilarious!
"Hey! It would have worked if that tank hadn't shown up," Grif defended, crossing his arms and inclining his helmet toward Simmons. Again. And, to be honest, a randomly appearing tank would cause complications during any Op. Not that Doughnut knew much about Ops. Then Simmons' words registered and the rookie jolted upright, fear and distress coursing through him.
"You lost the jeep?" Doughnut asked, incredulous. "Oh man, Lopez is gonna be ticked! Where is it?" BLAM! A missile blew up and the jeep landed on top of the base where the soldiers were arguing.
"What the heck?" Simmons asked, before another missile was fired at the base and the three Red Soldiers scrambled.
"Son of a gun!" Grif yelled, snatching his assault rifle off his back, for all the good it would do against a tank.
"Oh carp!" Doughnut yelled, grabbing the Blue flag. "What the heck was that thing?" 'And why did I grab the flag? This thing is useless in actual combat!'
"That was the tank!" Grif yelled back, crouching behind the Warthog, rifle in hand. 'Oh. Right. Like I couldn't figure that out on my own!' Doughnut thought furiously. 'Seriously, can't a guy ask a rhetorical question around here?'
"Hey uh, Grif. You wanna hold the flag for a little bit?" Doughnut asked, pointing it at the crouching soldier.
/*/
'We don't have time for this!' Rick thought, missiles exploding against the base. "Doughnut! Take it inside!" he yelled, ducking behind one of the raised portions of the base roof. "Why were we even on top of the base when inside is clearly safer?" he muttered darkly to himself. Grif chuckled grimly.
"No clue man, no clue," he replied as Doughnut ran inside.
"Ya know, I hate to point this out, but I think we're screwed," Doughnut said, poking his head back up. Assessing the odds, the relative skill and firepower in-base at the moment, and the armor class of the attacking vehicle, Rick came to a sad realization.
"Hate to say it, but I agree with the rookie on this one," he said. Grif sighed, apparently having come to the same conclusion. 'Well, I guess I really shouldn't be surprised. Grif isn't one to go up against odds like a tank,' Rick told himself, smirking slightly.
"Yeah. No way we can bust up their tank and get it to stop shooting. And our aim isn't good enough to take out the operator. I suppose we could take out the guy standing to the side of the tank, and then try to take out the gunner, but there's no guarantee that we'll last that long against the tank," Grif said. Just then, the radio came on and Sarge's voice crackled in their helmets.
"Blood Gulch Outpost Number 1. Come in Blood Gulch Outpost Number 1, come in. Do you read me? This is Sargen..."
"Oh my Godiva! Sarge, is that you?" Grif cut in. Simmons bit back a chuckle at how overblown Grif's disbelief was while Rick gave a large sigh of relief. More proof that Dex and Grif couldn't be the same person. Now, if only he could convince himself that the 'not-Dex' evidence overpowered the 'is-Dex' evidence.
"Roger that private. I am currently inbound to your position from command," Sarge replied.
"Sir! This is Simmons."
"Hello Simmons. I hope everything's gone alright while I've been gone," Sarge said.
"Actually Sir, things are kind of hectic right now. The new rookie arrived, and somehow he managed to infiltrate the blue base, and now we have their flag, the Warthog is damaged, one of their guys is dead, and there's a huge tank about to destroy our base," Grif said, summarizing the crazy events, for Blood Gulch, that had taken place. 'When you say it like that... things have gone a little odd here in Blood Gulch, haven't they?' pondered Rick in the few moments of static as Sarge paused to digest that information, then,
"Am I talking to the right base?"
"Sarge? We. Are. Going. To die here," Grif said slowly, and clearly. Rick flinched as once more he thought of just how Dex-like the statement had been. It was getting a little difficult to keep the two orange armored soldiers in his life separated.
"Well hold tight boys. I think I got a solution to your little tank problem," Sarge said, though he sounded like he didn't really believe there was a tank. A moment later, a large drop ship swooped over head and started firing in a line toward the tank. Soon enough, the tank was blasted, though the Reds could see the Blue who had been driving hopping out and running away.
"Well. That certainly took care of that. Thanks Sarge! And... gunship... person. Thanks a lot," Simmons said.
"You're welcome, Private. Glad to be of assistance," a female voice said. Rick felt his face heating up and berated himself. He had thought he was getting better at talking to girls. 'Must. Not. Let. Marley. Know!' he thought in fear. If she got wind of how awkward he had been with the pilot... Rick shivered in fear at the very thought.
/*/
Over at blue base, Caboose was finishing cleaning Tucker's armor while the other man called command. "So... what's a freelancer?" Caboose asked, dropping the now black rag into the now gray water with a hidden grimace of disgust. Whatever that gunk was, it was a pain to clean off! Caboose didn't think it was really water soluble. Not that he'd want to use a dry rag on it, but still. It did not want to come off!
"Freelancers are independent. They're not Red or Blue, kinda like guns for hire. They fight for whoever has the most money," Tucker explained.
"Like a mercenary!" Caboose compared.
"Right," Tucker said. "Or like your mom when the rent's due." Caboose winced. Low blow to moms everywhere man. Not cool. 'Not sure what your mom was like, but mine was pretty awesome,' Caboose thought.
"Oh. That's funny," Caboose muttered, voice heavy with sarcasm.
"Yeah? Ya... you didn't think that was too obvious?" Tucker asked. 'Oh wait... he really meant that as a joke? Man, he needs to work on that.'
"No no, that was good," Caboose said, again laying the sarcasm on rather heavily. Tucker didn't seem to notice. Dunce. Just then, a ghostly voice began calling for Tucker. Both soldiers turned to look at the base, the direction from which the voice, which sounded oddly like Church, was coming. After the third or fourth repetition, each louder than the last, an insubstantial, white form of a Spartan appeared. Caboose shared a look with Tucker. Well. This was new. Who knew ghosts were real? Oh man. He'd never be able to listen to a campfire story the same way again!
"Who the heck are you?!" Tucker asked, interrupting the apparition, which eerily kept calling his name.
"I am the ghost of Church!" the specter said, voice echoy. Though, oddly enough, it sounded more like he was talking in such a way to make it seem like his voice was echoing. "And I've come back with a warning!"
"You're not Church," Caboose said, clearly holding back some form of amusement. "Church is blue! You're white."
"Rookie! Shut up man! I'm a freaking ghost! Have you ever seen a blue ghost before?" the... ghost Church?... asked in clear irritation.
"Yeah. That's definitely him," Tucker said to Caboose, resigned to having the jerk around. Again. And this time, he didn't even sleep. Ugh. It was gonna be rough. Then again, Church had been a sort-of friend.
"Now I gotta start over again," Church groused.
/*/
"He's not really going to start over, is he?" ex-Captain Flowers asked, looking down at the canyon from The Ghost, Marley chuckled, sipping at her root beer.
"You really think Tucker would let him Flowdie?" she asked with a smirk. Flowdie chuckled as well, inclining his head toward her.
"Good point, m'lady," he said. Marley chuckled again.
"Darn right it's a good point!" she said.
"Just have to have the last word, don't you?" Flowers asked, perfectly deadpan. Marley grinned at him.
"Always."
/*/
"Is it really necessary to do the voice?" Tucker asked, a little irritated with the 'ghost' of his 'acting' team leader.
"Yeah. It's kind of annoying," added Caboose.
"Fine," Church bit, clearly annoyed. "Okay, here's the deal. I've come back from the dead to give you a warning about Tex. Don't let..."
"What's the warning?" Caboose asked. If Tucker didn't know better, he'd say the rookie was being annoying on purpose. He didn't really care if the younger soldier was trying to be annoying or not, seeing as he'd annoyed Church for fun plenty of times before. Still, Tucker would be lying if he said he didn't want to know what Church's warning was.
"Shut up for one second and I'll tell you!" Church shouted, really annoyed now.
"Oh. Sorry," Caboose said. Tucker bit back a snicker. The rookie was a natural at Annoying Church.
"Seriously man, I mean, I'm coming back from the great beyond here, do you think this is easy?" Church asked. "It's not. It's not like I can just pop in and out whenever I feel like it. It takes a lot of concentration."
"Sorry," Caboose muttered.
"I mean, it's bad enough you killed me to begin with, but now I come back and I can't even get a word in edgewise man," Church said, then sighed before continuing. "Okay. Here's the deal."
"Is that the warning?" Caboose asked.
/*/
"I don't think I like him very much," Flowdie said with a frown, glaring at the Regulation Blue trooper.
"It's Caboose Flowdie. He's the lovable idiot with brain damage. Or... he will be. Give him time to fall into the Blood Gulch lifestyle, alright? He'll get funny. No less annoying, but funny," Marley said, now tossing popcorn into her mouth, as though they were at the movies.
"We can't... ?" Flowdie began, wanting to help out the Blues. They were his team after all. Marley sighed a weary sigh, as though she had been expecting something like this for a while.
"No, Flowdie. We can't make him an honorary member of Project Red. He has his own drama to play out," she informed him, though she did sound legitimately sorry.
"Curses, foiled again," Flowdie groused, snapping his fingers.
"Oh oh! I can foil you! Let me get that aluminum. I'll be right back!"
"No! No! Marley! MARLEY! DON'T GET THE ALUMINUM! DON'T GET THE ALUMINIUM!"
"Hee~!"
"... Madwoman."
/*/
Tucker had a feeling that if he had eyes, Church's ghost would be glaring at Caboose. "Alright, that's it. I swear, Caboose, that your hide is haunted. When we're done here, I'm gonna haunt you," the 'ghost' snarled.
"Yeah, you're even starting to bug me," Tucker told the regulation blue soldier. 'Not that it's all that hard to accomplish these days,' the cyan soldier sighed in his mind.
"Okay. Tucker. You remember that I was stationed on Sidewinder before they transferred me here to Blood Gulch, right?" Church asked, drawing his attention back to the 'ghost' of his 'friend.'
"No," Tucker stated.
"Sidewinder? Isn't that the ice planet?" Caboose asked.
"Yes," Church said irritably. Tucker was actually a little glad Church was just a ghost at this point. That meant he couldn't fire at Caboose and hit him.
"Cool! What was that like?" Caboose asked again.
"Um... it was cold," Church stated.
"That's it? Just cold?"
"What do you want from me? I'm home? It's a planet made entirely of ice. It's really, amazingly, cold," the ghost bit out. Tucker turned to the rookie.
"Can you just let him talk?" he asked, really wanting to get to the point.
/*/
"Thank you, Private Tucker. I shall forgive you for taking my armor," Flowdie declared imperiously, crossing his arms and nodding 'regally' at the screen.
"Very good Flowdie!" Marley cheered with overblown exuberance, clapping her hands childishly.
"But I still don't think you've earned it," Flowdie added, glaring at Tucker once again.
"A~~~nd we're back to this. Joy," Marley remarked as she allowed her head to fall forward and collide with the table their snacks were resting on. Flowdie smirked. Who knew annoying the people closest to you could be so much fun?
/*/
"Alright. Well, one day when I was there, everything was just like normal. I remember, I was out on patrol with my partner, Jimmy. That Jimmy was a real good kid..." Church said, and went on to tell the story of Sidewinder's demise. At the hands of Freelancer Tex.
"Wait a second," Tucker said, interrupting the story, "how do you beat someone to death with their own skull? That doesn't seem physically possible," he finished. Church's story was beginning to feel rather made up. Maybe he ended up killing everyone with his bad aim and is blaming Tex because she was there and managed to survive? But then... how did Church not get killed to save the rest of them? If it had really been Church causing the destruction of Sidewinder, then he should have been locked up.
"That's exactly what Jimmy kept screaming," Church said with the air of someone commenting on the weather. It was a little unnerving to be honest. "Bottom line is, these Freelancers? They're bad news. And Tex... is one of the worst," he finished gravely. Tucker hadn't heard him sound so serious, ever, in all the time he'd known him. Again, it was a little unnerving.
"If he's such a bad-ass," Caboose asked, "why didn't he kill you?" A valid point. How had Church survived if an unstoppable killing machine who was able to do the physically impossible(seriously, how had she managed to beat Jimmy to death with his own skull?) had swept through the base, leaving the snow bathed in blood? It didn't seem possible and yet, he had come to Blood Gulch. Weird.
"I don't know why I'm not dead. Couldn't killed me at any point. But maybe it's because Tex and I have run into each other once before," Church answered, sounding a little awed himself. 'Huh, was that where his arrogance came from?' Tucker wondered. That theory didn't have much going for it, but that never seemed to stop Tucker.
"Where?" asked Tucker, curious, once Church's last sentence had sunken in. Church had never really talked about his past before. No-one did really. It was like, one of the unwritten rules of the canyon. You didn't say more about your past than absolutely necessary and you never asked for more information.
"You uh, you remember that girl I told you about back home? Well, let's just say Tex is the real reason why we never got married," Church said. From the way he said it, there was a whole lot more to the story. But, nosy as he was, Tucker wasn't going to pry. Wouldn't even have a chance to try, even if it hadn't been one of the aforementioned unwritten rules of the canyon. "Guys, I'm fading fast and I don't know when I'll be back. Just listen to my warning. Don't let Tex get involved here," Church said, and sure enough, his form was already fading out.
"Okay," Tucker said with a nod, even though he knew it was unlikely that he'd be able to keep the Freelancer from doing whatever the heck he wanted.
"I mean it Tucker. No fighting, no scouting, nothing," Church said as he faded, his last few words too faint to make out.
"So," began Tucker, "Tex and Church were after the same girl."
"I told you his girlfriend was a slut," Caboose said simply.
/*/
"Wait... I thought you said... ?" Flowdie began, too confused to finish his thought.
"Oh! I forgot he was like that before. Huh. Weird how that happened. Oh well!" Marley gasped through her near hysterical laughter. Flowdie edged carefully away from her.
"Marley... your years alone have really done a number on you, haven't they?" he asked wearily. Once she got her laughter, and her breath, back under control, she countered with,
"And your years without me made you a hippie. Your point?" Flowdie groaned and lightly smacked his head into the wall.
"Drat you and your logic," he growled. Marley grinned.
"Winning~!" she sang cheekily. Flowdie could only moan in response. And this was the woman he loved above all else? He must be mad.
/*/
Simmons and Grif had, somehow, managed to get the Warthog back to Lopez. "Sorry Lopez. I honestly didn't count on there being a tank," Simmons apologized. Lopez, as always, didn't say a word as he continued to work on the busted vehicle.
"Yeah man. That tank totally took us by surprise. And next time, we're not leaving the jeep," Grif added, nodding along. Simmons sighed and headed back to the base.
"I'd better write up the report," he moaned. Grif whimpered slightly.
"That means I'll have to deal with Sarge," he said. Simmons chuckled darkly.
"Better you than me, General Patton," he said. Grif sighed. Sure it had been his idea but...
"Throwing me to Sarge? Come on man! At least share the blame!" he called after the retreating soldier. But if Simmons heard the doomed man, he didn't show it. He just. Kept. Walking.
/*/
It wasn't long before the jeep, and Grif, was discovered by their CO. "Grif! What happened to the Warthog!" Sarge yelled, stomping his way toward the private. Grif sighed and sank further into his lazy persona before telling his story. Sarge sighed when Grif finished and asked, "Grif. Do you have any earthly idea how much this piece of equipment costs?" 'Over three thousand dollars would be my guess,' Dex thought, but Grif didn't say that. Grif was the irresponsible idiot.
"I-I don't know, like, ten... ten... twenty... twenty-five bucks, maybe? Duh, um, ya-you're gonna kill me now aren't you?" 'Shoulda stayed quiet. Or taken my guess,' Dex told himself. Grif told Dex to shut up and focus on the mad, shotgun obsessed, Sargent. Sarge sighed.
"Tell ya what Grif. I'm a fair man. I'll give you a ten second head start here before I let Lopez do anything he wants to ya," he said. Grif could see Lopez cocking his pistol behind Sarge's back. It was not a reassuring sight.
"Guys," he began, "I just want you to know. I'm really, really sorry here," he said, drawing out the 'really.'
"Five Mississippi," Sarge said, and behind him, Lopez switched out his pistol for an assault rifle. "Six Mississippi."
"Okay, guess I better get going then," Grif said, turning tail and running. Sarge, holding a pistol, shared a look with Lopez before they both started shooting after Grif.
"Hey guys, that's not funny! Somebody could get hurt here!" Simmons yelled when a burst from Lopez's gun ripped past his head. Seeing the running Grif, however, he decided it would just be best to get inside and duck for cover. One should never, ever, tick of an android. He had learned that one the hard way on his second mission with Marley, out on Betazoid 771, when one extremely foolish moron decided to mouth off to a serving droid in the bar. Poor idiot was in surgery for three hours trying to get that tray out of his back, not to mention the breaks and internal damage done by the droid's fists. Shivering slightly to himself, Simmons went back to the teleporter unit Marley wanted fixed. He didn't know what happened to it, but the thing was pretty fried. He'd need to make a replacement mother board, along with a few other circuits.
"Stop running! Makes it harder for the bullets to hit ya!" Sarge yelled. Rifle fire blared and Simmons figured that was Lopez's way of saying, 'ruin my stuff, I ruin you. Idiot.' Poor Lopez didn't have a voice chip yet. It was supposed to come in the next shipment.
/*/
Once Sarge and Lopez were done, roughly three hours later, Grif went to the top of the base where he found Simmons. "So... Sarge took that pretty well I thought," Grif said to Simmons, not bothering to deny getting shot at.
"Yeah right! He told me he thought you were a retarded monkey and that he's suspending your weapon privileges!" Simmons retorted. Grif sighed and Doughnut, blue flag in hand, decided to remind them that he was there.
"Hey, since I captured the flag, do you think they'll give me my own colored armor now?" he asked, eager to get out of the regulation armor. Being mistaken for Sarge once was more than enough thank-you-very-much!
"What do you mean captured?" Simmons asked, "you thought you were buying it at the store you idiot."
"Still, think there's a shot?" Doughnut asked, still waving the flag around. He wanted that unique armor dang it!
"Maybe they'll give you Grif's armor since you destroyed the Warthog," Simmons said dryly. Grif huffed out a laugh, then froze before turning to Simmons.
"You don't really think they'd do that... do you?" he asked. Simmons remained silent, though behind his helmet, he was grinning. Sometimes, Grif was just too easy to mess with.
/*/
While the soldiers argued up top, Marley and Flowers were snickering as they watched Sarge try to help Lopez fix the jeep. "Try connecting that hose to that metal thingy there," Sarge said, "I think that's what's making that rattly noise." Lopez stopped and stood, staring silently at the Sargent. "Uh, think I'll let you do it."
"Smart move Sarge," Marley chuckled before popping some popcorn in her mouth. Then the two watching Agents, and Sarge, saw a distortion in the air. "And there's Tex!" Marley chirped while Sarge exclaimed,
"What the... ? What was that?!" Lopez just ignored everything and worked on the jeep.
"Back to the roof! That's where the flag is!" Marley said, switching camera views. Flowers moaned.
"You're really kind of annoying, you know that?" he asked.
"Hey! I showed you the Blues for the plot points and explainationy thingies right? So shut up and lets watch the Reds! Besides, this is Tex we're talking about," Marley retorted, already lining it up so they could watch Grif, Simmons, and Doughnut.
"Fine. But things had better..." Flowers began, only to get cut off by the pilot.
"Oh~ho! It's just getting started Flowdie. Just getting started," Marley smirked before falling silent. It seemed Simmons had noticed Tex's arrival as well, though his armor functions were limited in Standard Mode.
/*/
"Simmons!" Dex barked, noticing the other soldier looking toward the door and knowing few good things came from people seeing things. "You see something?" he asked.
"I thought I did," Simmons answered, though he wasn't too sure. Dex hummed quietly. Simmons had pretty sharp eyes, and he'd been expecting the Blues any minute. He looked over at Doughnut and made a snap decision.
"Hey Rookie! Tuck the flag somewhere safe while we figure out what's happening. Having the objective in plain sight is just asking for it to get grabbed," he said, motioning to the inside of the base as he spoke. Simmons nodded behind him. It was a good enough idea.
"Good idea. I was sick of carrying this thing anyway," Doughnut said, chucking the flag down inside the base. Dex sighed. That hadn't been what he had in mind, not at all. A faint sound, like armored gloves rearranging a gun, pricked at his ears. That couldn't be good.
"Did you hear that?" Simmons asked. Dex nodded.
"Yeah," he said, his whole body tensing. Hearing things was almost as bad as seeing things. Usually... they were worse. Hearing something generally meant they were about to be blown up. Especially if it was a clicking, beeping, or hissing noise. Those were the worst!
"Hey!" Doughnut whispered roughly, "what's going on?" Just then, a sticky grenade got launched over the wall of the base and stuck itself to Doughnut's helmet.
"What the fudge?" Dex asked, backing up. He had been watching the spot it came from, but he hadn't seen the grenade until it flew past him. How the heck did that happen?
"What?" asked Doughnut, apparently not hearing the hissing noise coming from the explosive. Honestly, Dex didn't know how the rookie couldn't hear the ominous hissing coming from the device, it was right over his ear! Not good, not good, not good!
"Wha... is that a... ?" Simmons asked, also backing away. Poor Doughnut. He didn't have a clue what was happening.
"What?!" Doughnut asked, getting a little worried now. "Is what a what?!"
"Uh, now may be a bad time, but I think there's a grenade stuck to your helmet," Dex said, honestly sounding a bit apologetic.
"WHAT?! GET IT OFF GET IT OFF!" Doughnut yelled, turning around wildly, as though he could catch sight of it.
"Calm down! It looks like it's on a time release. You should have a few seconds. Now, all you have to do, is take off your helmet. But be careful, we don't know if undue movement will set it off," Simmons said, calmly. Dex was a bit impressed. He would have thought Simmons would freak out in the face of a live bomb. Doughnut moved his head in what might, in micro-expression land, have been a nod like motion and slowly took his helmet off. "Good. Now, throw it as high as you can!" Simmons instructed, bringing his gun up. Dex caught on to what he was doing and unlimbered his rifle as well. So much for the IT geek being boring.
"Here goes," Doughnut said, still rather scared sounding, and chucked the helmet before dropping to the ground. The helmet flew about four feet up before the grenade detonated. Dex blinked.
"Wow. Good arm there Rookie," he said. When he looked back down, he saw a young man grinning back at him, dressed in regulation Red armor. He had short cropped blond hair, cornflower blue eyes, and a puckish grin on a boyish face. He couldn't have been more than twenty. It made Dex feel so... sad. Oh, that bright young men like Doughnut were being sent to dead end, sometimes literally, postings like Blood Gulch when they could be delivering pizza and meeting girls back in the city. It truly was a sad thing, though not as sad as the child soldiers that had been so painfully common in the past.
"Thanks! Comes from playing fetch with the sheep dogs back on the farm," Doughnut said, jerking Dex back to the present. Without his voice being distorted by the helmet, the poor guy sounded even younger. "Um, just out of curiosity, what were you going to do if it started coming back down before it exploded?"
"Shoot it of course. That fixes just about everything," Grif replied with a light shrug. Simmons chuckled.
"Yeah. Especially Grif," he said. Grif turned to his usual partner and growled slightly. "Down boy," Simmons said, firing a round at his feet. Grif yelped and jumped back. Doughnut shook his head, clearly amused.
"You two are insane," he said. They both laughed.
"Welcome to Blood Gulch!" they chorused. Doughnut scoffed, though he was smirking as he said,
"Some welcome."
/?/
A/N: Sorry for the longer than usual wait. I lost track of the days. Anyway, let me know what you thought of the subtle changes I've made to the Reds in the box below!