Grif: Simmons
Simmons: Yea?
Grif: ...You're ready, right?
Simmons hesitates, then nods head.
1:00AM
Grif and Simmons are seen driving down a highway in a convertible, clearly rental.
Simmons (Riding Shotgun): Are we going the right way?
Grif silently nods and points to a sign approaching up ahead. "Welcome to Miami"
The Radio turns on, Phil Collin's "In the Air Tonight" plays.
The street lights shine past the convertible as they drive.
Simmons looks towards Grif briefly before turning away. He pulls out Sarge's rustic double-barrel, slowly puts in the two rounds before swiftly closing it, emitting an audible snap.
I can feel it coming in the air tonight...
He quickly observes it before putting it away.
Oh Lord…
Grif: How much time we got?
Simmons casually checks watch.
Simmons: 25 minutes.
I've been waiting for this moment for all my life, oh Lord…
Can you feel it coming in the air tonight, oh Lord…
Oh Lord
The two pull to an old phone booth located in front of a cafe. Grif departs from the convertible, leaving Simmons. Grif enters the booth, and plugs in the dial...
Well if you told me you were drowning, I would not lend a hand.
I've seen your face before my friend, and I don't know if you know who I am.
Sarge: Private Donut don't do that! You're supposed to hit them with your bat, not your-
RING RING, RING RING
The phone near Sarge rings loudly, stopping Sarge from finishing his sentence. He walks to the phone calmly, despite it. He pics up.
Sarge: Hello?
Grif: Sarge…
Sarge: Grif?!
I was there and I saw what you did, I saw it with my own two eyes.
Grif: I need to know something, Sarge… the way you treated me…
So you can wipe off that grin, I know where you've been.
Grif: ...and I don't mean lately, but before…
It's all been a pack of lies!
Girf: ...It was real, wasn't it?
I remember!
Sarge: Yes it was!
I remember, don't worry!
Sarge: You're damn right it was.
Grif sighs, loud enough to be transmitted to the other side of the phone.
How could I ever forget it was the first time, the last time we ever met.
Sarge: Private Grif, what's your major malfunction?
Grif: ...nothing, Sarge.
Sarge: Then you better high-tail it on back here before I come to you and start whooping your-
Grif hangs up the phone before Sarge finishes.
I know the reason why you keep this silence up
Grif exits the booth and walks to the convertible. Simmons waits quietly.
No, you don't fool me.
Grif closes the door.
Well, the hurt doesn't show, but the pain still grows.
Grif starts the engine.
It's no stranger to you and me…
DUN DUN DA DUN DA DUN DA DUN DA DA DO!
Grif and Simmons proceed to drive excessively over the speed limit as the chorus of the song plays. The lights and signs of Maimi swiftly going past the two in their vehicle, lights reflecting off the metal. Both of them only looking forward, Grif briefly brushing dust off his eventually approach a harbor.
The harbor only has one ship with a man, assumingly the captain, outside it unroping. The duo depart from the car and approach.
Grif: Hold on, pal.
Captain: What? Did I forget something?
Simmons: Yea, us.
Grif and Simmons both point their weapons at the Captain. They drag him onto his ship, making him drive it. The boat takes off into the Sunset.
A.N: I do not own Red vs. Blue, "In the Air Tonight", or Miami Vice. All right go to their respective owners.