Disclaimer: I don't own RvB.
Episode 17: Arrival of the Medic
Three months. Three months of begging, three months of pleading, three months of target practice with wimpy pistols. After three solid months... Eagle Eye got his wish. Sarge handed him a sniper rifle and said, "Snipe the blues." Eagle couldn't help grinning like a loon as he lovingly stroked the rifle he held in his hands.
"O~hoho yeah~! Now this! Is a gun!" he said, chambering a round and sending it straight through the bullseye painted oh so lovingly on cardboard. Fifty yards away. Without using the scope. He didn't care if he was showing off a little, but oh it felt good to have a sniper rifle in his hands again. Sure it wasn't as good as the one Marley was holding for him, but still.
"Nice shot. Now, do the same thing, only to the blues!" Sarge said. Eagle chuckled darkly, flipping the rifle onto his back for easy carrying and stalking back into the base in search of more ammo.
"Oh, no worries Sarge. I'll do my job," he said. Grif and Simmons shared a look before shrugging and preparing their own weapons, Grif purposefully leaving the extra ammo. No need to make it too hard on the Blues. Meanwhile, Eagle was chuckling evilly to himself as he packed his ammo, occasionally stroking the rifle on his back.
"Do try not to kill them, please?" Marley's voice crackled in his ear. Eagle sighed, but agreed.
"I really have no reason to, not with the information you've given me about this being a simulation," he said. "Shame I can't pelt them with paint," he muttered darkly. Marley laughed.
"Perhaps one day you may. And when that day comes, I hope you'll allow me to join in the fun!" she said. Eagle chuckled back, walking back to Sarge and the rest of Red Team, who were ready to move out.
"When the day comes when we can actually paint this canyon red, I wouldn't dream of leaving you out," he told the woman.
"Oh! And maybe the other members of Project Red could join us! Oh! The paint bath!" Marley gushed. Eagle had to hold back hysterical laughter at the mental images.
"Hey! What are you talking about? Don't drop me in the middle of a conversation like that Marley!" Rick's voice chimed in. Had Eagle been looking, he would have seen Simmons jump ever so slightly. As it was, Eagle didn't see Simmons' jump and smoothly integrated Rick into the conversation, along with Dex and Red.
"Me and Marley were just talking about my official assignment and how fun it would be to use the rather pathetic opposition as paint ball targets," the sniper said. Dex chuckled, surprising Frank.
"Now that would be fun. I can see it now, the entire canyon painted red, Blues running for the caves in terror and me with a Brute Shot loaded with paint. Ah~! Such happy thoughts!"
"Dude, there is something wrong with you. Why not just get a paint thrower? You know, as opposed to a flame thrower?" Rick asked.
"I like the way you think Rick!" Red piped up. Frank sighed.
"You had to patch them in... didn't you?" he asked wryly. Marley laughed evilly for a moment before Flowdie's voice came through.
"Please, disregard the madwoman behind the speaker," he deadpanned.
"Lighten up Flowdie! This is the best conference call ever! Of all time! And you know it!" Marley shouted. Flowdie sighed.
"You guys don't need to hear this, and without The Ghost you can't conference call, so I'm afraid I'm going to have to cut this short. Have fun kiddos!" he said, sounding remarkably like what Grif had told Eagle of the old Blue captain. Huh. Weird.
/*/
Dex couldn't help chuckling to himself, even long after their call had been cut off. A conversation, even one as short and nonsensical as that one had been, with his squad was just what the doctor ordered. Blood Gulch was getting more unbearable by the day! It was utterly maddening, being around people who didn't know him at all. Still, he had to admit, having mock battles(because calling them battles was an insult to battle. Just like calling the Blues soldiers was an insult to soldiers. Especially their newest member.) against the Blues was rather cathartic. They crested a hill and saw that there was yet another new Blue. Only... he was purple. Dex thought he heard Eagle mutter 'Purple. Why does he get purple? That would be better than fricking pink!' But no. He wouldn't say that... would he? Grif mentally shrugged and watched as Eagle shot at the device in the purple guy's hand, then missed him by a slim margin when he turned around. "Nice shot Cupcake," Sarge complemented gruffly as the opposing team scattered.
"Thanks Sarge!" Eagle called back, already lining up for another shot. Simmons paused for a moment to let loose his catch phrase.
"Aw that's right! Suck it Blue!" Grif laughed as he popped up from his crouched position.
"Ye~ha! Sneak attack!" he called enthusiastically.
"Sit down you idiot! I can't see," Simmons complained as Grif had been positioned in front of him for some odd reason.
"Hike up your knickers fellas!" Sarge called, "Let's go get 'em!"
/*/
The absurity of Sarge's comment was so great, the peanut gallery in space just had to comment. "'Hike up your knickers?'" Flowdie questioned quietly. "Who even says that anymore? And since when did fellas wear knickers?" Marley shook her head with a wry smile.
"Go with it," she told Flowdie, "just go with it."
"No. I refuse," the former Freelancer declared, crossing his arms and giving the screen in front of him a difante look. "The term 'hike up your knickers' should not be used in regular conversation, and most especially when referring to men. Even more so when those men are friking space marines!"
"It's Sarge," Marley attempted to explain.
"Red."
"Three words for you Flowdie. Blood. Gulch. Madness."
"... It's sad when that constitutes as logic," Flowdie said with a sigh, his bowed head a sign of defeat.
"Welcome to Red vs Blue Flowdie," Marley said with a wry chuckle.
"I've been here for over a year!"
"Let's see how the Blues are reacting to this!"
"... Madwoman."
"You keep calling me that!"
"That's because you are. A madwoman that is."
"Oh look! Church is trying to give orders!"
"What?"
/*/
"Okay Tucker, I need you to get up there, help Caboose shore up the defense, establish a suppressing fire, and hold that position until further notice," Church rattled off. Tucker simply stared at him, uncomprehending.
"I didn't even know what half of that meant," the cyan soldier admitted.
"Just go over to Caboose's rock and fire your gun a bunch!" Church snapped, irritated.
"That rock?" Tucker asked incredulously as he turned to look at the rock Caboose was crouched behind, which was a good five feet from the rock he, Church, and Doc were behind. The five feet between said rocks was filled with flying bullets, which was turning the wall of their base into qusdo-swiss cheese. "Yeah, I don't think so," he told Church flatly. He liked living thank you very much.
"We do not have time to discuss this," Church said slowly. Tucker scoffed.
"Sure, no time for you to discuss it. You get to hang out here with Nancy No Bullets, shooting the breeze, meanwhile, I'm out there, running around, eating a machine-gun sandwich," he said, clearly taking issue with Church's plan. Church, however, saw no such problem.
"Tucker! We're going to be giving you covering fire!"
"Covering fire? Unless that mean's you're going to build a huge, bullet proof wall between me and them, I think you need to come up with a new plan. Preferably one that involves me keeping the same quantity of blood I have right now," Tucker said, rather dryly.
"No problem," Church said with a nod. "Oh wait wait, does the blood have to be in your body?" Tucker gave him a bland look behind his helmet. "Alright, you, Doc, get over there and help Caboose."
"My name isn't Doc. It's Defresne," the purple medic said, mildly irritable.
"Yeah. I can't pronounce that. So from now on, your name is Doc," Church declared.
"I'm not really comfortable with that. I'm not a doctor. I'm a medic," the man protested, though without much heat.
"What's the difference?" Tucker asked, looking toward Doc.
"Well, a doctor cures people while a medic just makes them more comfortable... while they die," Doc answered.
"Mental note: don't ever get shot," Tucker remarked dryly.
"It's settled then. You're name is now Doc," Church ploughed on.
"Okay, but I don't think it'll stick," the medic relented. Tucker snorted. This was Blood Gulch, if it was easier than the correct way, chances were that's the way everyone is going to be doing it.
"Oh, trust us, it'll stick," Tucker stated, mildly amused despite himself. He had to admit, Church had his moments. And Doc was rather amusing, even if he was a pain.
"Now get over to Caboose and help him hold that position!" Church insisted.
"I don't have a gun~. I'm a pacifist~," Doc reiterated, sounding for all the world like he believed Church was as dumb as a kindergartener. Tucker wasn't sure, but he had a feeling that if Church had been human, there would have been a vein pulsing right above his left eye while his right was about to develop a twitch.
"Well then just get over there and yell 'BANG BANG BANG!'" Yep. That was the voice of a man struggling to maintain even an illusion of calm. Poor Church, being stuck in Mad Gulch.
"Eh~ah I don't know. Even that sounds pretty aggressive," Doc whined, uncomfortable with the idea.
"Oh come on," Tucker moaned, just loud enough for them to hear. Was this guy for real? 'On loan to both armies,' 'conscientious objector,' 'pacifist.' What the heck was this guy doing in the army?! Even medic's had to be trained in the use of firearms didn't they?! Even medic's held a rank! Doctor's had agreements with their patients right? How could you heal the guy who's trying to kill the guy you just patched up?! It was madness! A little known fact about Lavernius Tucker; he held loyalty and honor in high regard. So, seeing what amounted to a lack of loyalty from this medic, really didn't endear him to the soldier.
"Besides, I'm not supposed to get involved unless someone gets hurt." Tucker quietly seethed. He had half a mind to shoot this guy, then go over and 'help' Caboose. Just to show him how things were done.
"Huh," Church said as he turned toward Caboose, "I see," he added, raising his gun. A single shot and a cry of pain. Tucker could only stare in shock. Church had shot Caboose. And hit! This... this was something completely out of the ordinary! Church never hit! Not even with a sniper rifle! He could miss a target by a margin of ten inches even when it was only about a foot away! How, in the universe, had he made that shot?!
"Ow! My foot! My foot!" Caboose wailed as Tucker stared at his acting CO. Once he got past the whole 'Church actually landed a hit,' he was confronted by a much bigger issue. 'Church shot his own team.' How could he? Sure he complained about them and said he hated them, but to go so far as to shoot them? "Well~, looks like Caboose has hurt himself. Maybe you should get over there and help him Doc."
"Ya know, ya could'a just asked nicely," the medic said. Tucker was too busy staring at Church and wondering 'how did he make that shot?' and 'how could he shoot his own team?' to point out that, they had asked nicely.
/*/
"Alpha. That was cold. Stone cold," Flowdie whimpered. Marley patted him on the back.
"Defresne is a stubborn one. And Church isn't a people person. That was bound to happen," she informed the former Blue Captain.
"Yeah but... to shoot your own team..." said Flowdie, shaking his head.
"Is it any different than what Project Freelancer had us doing?" Marley asked quietly. Flowide took a moment to process that, then sighed.
"... Poor Caboose."
"Indeed. Poor Caboose. And it only gets worse I'm afraid."
"And... was he... jumping? While there was a hail of bullets raining down on his position?" To be honest, Marley was a little surprised it had taken that long for Flowdie to pick up on that.
"Yep~!"
"And he wasn't shooting back?"
"Nope~!"
"... Is he retarded or something?"
"Something." Flowdie gave her a dour look that had no affect on her whatsoever.
"That was truly enlightening," he drawled sarcastically. Whatever he was hoping to accomplish with that comment, it didn't happen. Marley simply swept him a courtly bow and replied,
"I live to please." Flowdie scoffed, crossing his arms at her flippant behavior. Had she always been like this? He couldn't remember.
"You live to drive others mad," he retorted. Marley chuckled, leaning back in her chair.
"You know you love it."
"Yeah. You may be a madwoman, but you're my madwoman," Flowdie said, ending with a mildly possessive growl as he leaned in. Marley leaned a little further back, surprised by the man's forward behavior. Usually, the man was rather reserved with his affections, despite his ultra caring persona.
"I don't know if I should be insulted... or flattered," she finally managed to get out, relaxing ever so slightly. Flowdie smirked and leaned in just a little closer.
"How about 'irritated at being flattered despite yourself?'" he asked huskily, mouth brushing against her ear. Marley pushed back against him, putting distance between them.
"Truly, you have a dizzying intellect," she remarked dryly. Flowdie shrugged, undeterred by Marley's reaction.
"I try."
/*/
Simmons cursed as his gun clicked empty. "Give me some ammunition Grif," he said, taking out the spent clip. Grif jerked slightly.
"Me? I don't have any extra. I'm down to one bullet," he said. Simmons sighed. 'What did you expect?' Rick whispered in the back of his mind, almost fond.
"Wha-? How can that be? You're the one who carries all the extra rounds into battle!" Simmons asked of the lazy orange soldier. 'Perhaps he finds this as pointless as we do, Simmons,' Rick whispered, amused. Simmons refused to think he had split personality disorder, but it was looking more and more likely. He hoped he'd be able to give up this ruse soon. It was killing him!
"Wait! Since when?!" Grif asked, though refrained from raising his voice.
"Since the last staff meeting," Simmons stated. 'Boring bunch of useless,' Rick added.
"We actually talk about stuff in those things? I just fall asleep inside my helmet!" Grif exclaimed, admitting to ducking the meetings without actually ducking the meetings. 'Gotta admit, as long as he doesn't snore, that's rather clever.' Simmons mentally told Rick to stuff it and focused on the main issue.
"Well. You missed your job assignment, and now we have no ammo," Simmons stated coolly. Grif didn't seem too bothered. In fact, he shrugged with a soft 'meh.'
"What's your job?" he asked, jerking his chin toward him. His voice conveyed his curiosity.
"Me? I'm the civil chairman."
"Me and trigger and Eagle are empty. We need some clips," Sarge said as he ran up.
"Hey Grif. You remember that one bullet you have left? I've thought of the perfect way you can use it," Simmons said, half way between cold anger and dark glee. Now, Grif looked a little apprehensive.
/*/
"Tense."
"Meh. Not really. But watch, we're going to be treated to a grand show of human stupidity."
"Wait... wasn't that what we were already enjoying?"
"The show must go on!"
/*/
Back with the Blues, which was a much more pleasant place at the moment, Doc was assessing the situation. "Okay, Caboose, where are you hit?" he asked the young man, who was still hopping slightly.
"Ow ow ow, my foot, my foot!" the blue soldier replied.
"The left one?" the hapless medic queried.
"Ah. Left. Let's see, that makes and L with this thumb..." Caboose said, clearly being unable to remember left from right.
"I'm just going to assume it's the bleeding one."
/*/
"Is this guy for real?"
"Flowdie, meet Doc, the worst medic I've ever known."
/*/
Back down in Blood Gulch, Doc was still trying to do his job. Keyword: trying. "Yeah. The red one," Caboose said, giving a quiet sound of pain and shock. "I can't believe Church shot me!"
"Oh don't even start Caboose!" Church called over from his rock. Doc turned at the shout, wondering if it was always like this on Blue team, and if Red Team would be any saner. Tucker, however, muttered his agreement of Caboose's comment under his breath. It wasn't a team kill, but it was almost as bad.
"Anything else?" Doc asked, sincerely hoping there wasn't. One gunshot wound was bad enough, he wasn't sure what he'd do if there were more.
"Uh wha-what?" Caboose asked. He might have been suffering from slight shock due to the bullet in his foot. Plus, he had a malicious A.I. in his head. That wasn't doing him any favors. Not that Doc knew that, but it bears mentioning. O'Malley would mess anyone up.
"You have a bullet wound in the foot. Is anything else wrong?" Doc asked in much the same manner one would address a child. Slow and deliberate. Though, in this case, Doc was also clearly doubting Caboose's intellectual prowess.
"Uh.. Oh I got one. Uh, well, sometimes, when I fall asleep at night, I think about my parent's having sex and I get really, really mad for some reason," Caboose said. Doc just stared at the private for a moment, neither saying anything. 'I'm not touching that one with a ten foot pole,' Doc thought before nodding.
"Okay, I'm just gonna start with the foot," he said.
"Okay," Caboose chirped back.
/*/
Marley couldn't help snickering at Flowdie's incredulous look. "Seriously? I... I... I have no words."
"Flowdie, meet Caboose," said Marley, motioning grandly to the view screen.
"Yeah... I was talking about both of the idiots behind that rock."
"Oh. Yeah. That works too."
"I mean... My word. It's like... the greatest insult to the medical community," Flowdie continued, staring at the screen in dumbfounded shock. Marley nodded gravely.
"Yes. Yes it is. Oh! Just wait. It. Gets. Worse!" she said, mad glee edging her words. Flowdie turned away from the screen in exaggerated+
disgust.
"I can't watch. Or listen. I might just decide to shoot him for insulting you."
"Aw~! You really do care!" Marley cooed dramatically, placing clasped hands over her heart. Flowdie turned to her and said with all the seriousness he could muster,
"I've never stopped."
"Even after all these years?" she asked, eyes growing misty. Flowdie gently cupped the back of her head, gazing lovingly into her eyes.
"Always," he breathed, dropping a kiss on her cheek.
"YES! Finally, someone who will finish the quote!" Marley crowed, leaping backward and ignoring the kiss as well as the kisser, who was still kneeling on the floor in front of her. How Flowdie had gotten there so fast was anyone's guess.
"Wait... What?" he asked, blinking rapidly in shock.
"Moving on!" Marley declared, turning up the volume.
/*/
"Hey dude, why aren't the Reds firing?" Tucker asked Church. The cobalt soldier shrugged.
"I don't know. Maybe their out of ammo," he suggested.
"Hey Blues!" Sarge yelled, running into Tucker's view. "We're giving you a chance to surrender!"
"Surrender?" Church asked. Tucker shrugged. How was he supposed to know what went on in the minds of the opposite team? He barely understood how his own team thought!
/*/
"There's no way this is going to work," Grif scoffed, Dex adding, 'not even the Blues are that dumb.' It was at moments like these where Grif and Dex were truly aware that they were the same person, and it was these moments that they treasured. It meant that the mind of Dexter Grif wasn't totally fractured.
"Put a cork in it, Fast Eddie. There's positively no way they know we're out of ammo," Sarge said confidently. Dex Grif sighed, mentally shaking his head. 'Great. You jinxed it. Way to go Sarge. Way. To. Go,' he thought before turning his attention toward the Blues.
/*/
"Yeah, they're definitely out of ammo," Church remarked with certainty. "What are your terms!?" he called to the Reds.
"Their what?" Tucker asked.
/*/
"Our what?" Dex Grif asked, truly puzzled. 'When surrendering, isn't it the ones surrendering who offer the terms? And then both sides agree to the terms and conditions of the surrender? Isn't this more of a parley than a surrender? Don't these guys know how this works at all?'
"I can't believe this is actually working," Simmons muttered to his right. "See if you can get Lopez back Sarge."
"Oh yeah! Cause then he can help Simmons fix the Warthog!" Grif said.
"Oh no! I'm not helping," Simmons rebutted.
"What? But I thought..." Grif began, confused.
"Never, and I mean never, get between an android and it's baby," Simmons stated grimly. Dex winced and rubbed his left bicep.
"Right. Scratch that. Lopez can fix the Warthog," he said. Simmons nodded.
"Oh oh, Sarge! Tell them we want the flag!" Eagle contributed. At first, Grif saw no problem with this, and neither did Simmons, so he agreed.
"Yeah! And some cake." What? He liked cake. Cake was good.
"Oh. Wait wait! Sarge! Just the cake!" Eagle said. Grif nodded ever so slightly. Eagle was his little brother. They were united by cake. And boredom. And a love of guns. But not like Sarge's love of guns. Grif thought he might just ask Simmons to shoot him if he got that bad. 'Hum. Mental note: tell Simmons to shot me if I start singing my guns to sleep.'
"Alright Blues! First off, we want your flag," Sarge began, the Simmons had a thought.
"Wait wait wait just a second. The last time we got the flag, that chick in the black armor showed up," he pointed out.
"To stay right where it is!" Sarge yelled, seeing the problem in their first idea. "Keep the flag! But we do want our mechanized droid guy back!" Dex and Rick, as well as Frank, winced at what their Sargent called Lopez.
"'Mechanized droid guy?!'" Dex whispered in horror.
"Does Sarge have a death wish or something?!" Rick whispered in equal horror.
"It would explain a few things," Frank muttered, proving he could hear them.
"Shush shush! He's talking again," Dex whispered back, still staring at Sarge in terror.
"You may know him as Senor el Roboto!"
"Wait... Lopez spoke English... right?" Grif asked Simmons.
"Yeah, expect for when he got mad. Then he started ranting in a Spanish monotone. Sarge got him that way practically just by existing," Eagle piped up. Grif and Simmons made small noises of understanding.
"So that's what you meant!" Grif said. Eagle chuckled.
"But of course! What did... ya know what? I don't want to know," he said, turning his attention back to Sarge and the Blues.
/*/
Tucker was chuckling to himself. The disloyal little jerk was in a bind. Oh happy day! "Well Church, what's it gonna be?" he asked. Church turned to him and said,
"Chingado! No way. I'm not giving back my body! I just got this thing!"
"And don't think you can keep his nu-OW!" the Red Sargent yelled. Tucker and Church turned to see the orange soldier waving his gun in an 'oops' motion. They could just imagine him saying something like, 'oops! Sorry Sarge, my finger slipped.' Still, they were a little glad he'd stopped the Sargent. It had sounded like he was going to make a rather inappropriate comment.
"Uh, um... He's not here anymore!" Church yelled back, deciding that ignoring the antics of the orange one, known as Grif and/or Dirtbag, was the best course of action. For the moment.
"Yeah! He was all like, 'Sayōnara' and then he just took off!" Tucker added.
"That's not Spanish you idiot," Church told him in an aside. "That's French."
/*/
"No Church. It's clearly Russian," Marley drawled, condescension practically dripping off her words. Flowdie fought down chuckles and managed to say,
"No~... it's Greek," with an impressive amount of seriousness, though the twinkle in his eyes and the huge grin on his face were clear indicators that he was joking.
"You're both wrong," Dex's voice cut in, startling Flowdie and causing Marley to stare at the console curiously. "It's most certainly Freelancese."
"No no," Rick countered. Marley jerked at the small 'eep!' and muffled thud as Flowdie jumped so hard he fell out of his chair. "It's Tuckerese."
"I say it's Japanese. But hey, what do I know?" Frank added. Marley sighed.
"Sarcasm, Frank," she explained in that age old tone of an exasperated big sister.
"Oh I know," the sniper said before Marley could go on "I just saw the conversation as ridiculous and decided to end the pointless debate. Besides, I do believe the 'leaders' are talking again."
/*/
"Hey Reds! How 'bout a medic?!" Church yelled. "Would you take a medic as a hostage?!"
"A hostage? But I'm supposed to go over there," Doc remarked, thoroughly confused by these strange soldiers. The Reds took a moment to deliberate. While they talked, Church turned to Doc and Caboose.
"Hey Doc, how's the patient?" he asked. Tucker blinked. Huh. Maybe he did care.
"Doing well. He seems very alert and responsive," Doc answered.
"He's talking about Caboose... right?" Tucker asked softly of Church.
"No I mean his toe. How's the toe I shot?" Church asked Doc, instead of answering Tucker.
"What that thing? That fell off like half an hour ago," Doc answered, far too nonchalant for Tucker's liking. Unknown to the cyan Private, Marley was having the same feeling toward Doc's attitude. Flowdie was muttering about axes, toes, and curve vectors. Marley did not want to know.
"Rest in peace pinky toe," Caboose said, terribly sad. "You shall be avenged," he added in a deep, dark voice. Doc sighed.
"Tell ya what. Go ahead and send me over. I really don't think I can be any more help," he said. 'No duh,' Tucker thought darkly, glaring at the medic from behind his visor. It was times like these he would have liked it if his visor could go clear like he'd heard ODST visors could. It would be so gratifying to see people quiver under his glare. He had been told it was a truly terrifying sight.
"Okay!" Church yelled to the Reds after a beat of silence. He had considered shooting the annoying man, but decided against it. He needed to be alive to torment the Reds after all. "We're going to send over our medic! Now what do we get?!"
"You?" the maroon one called. "You're surrendering! You don't get anything but humiliation and ridicule!"
"We've already got that! What else do you have?!" Tucker shot back. Church mentally groaned, though he couldn't really refute Tucker's claim.
"What do ya want?" Sarge asked.
"How about you admit the Red Team sucks?!" Church offered.
"What if we admit that one of us sucks?!" Sarge yelled. This went on for another two hours until finally, they came to an agreement.
/*/
"My word," Flowdie moaned, staring at the scene before him in a mix of horror and astonishment. Marley smirked, playing with a scalpel.
"Told ya~!" she sang out, truly amused at the sight.
"I mean... my word!" Flowdie whimpered, falling to the floor with a ringing THUD. Marley chuckled like the evil woman that she was, shining steel knife twirling between her fingers like a miniature lightning bolt.
"Yep," she remarked, popping the 'p' for emphasis. Flowdie stood suddenly, slamming his hands onto the table and making the board jump slightly, though the magnetized games tiles remained perfectly in place.
"It has to be worth more than that!" he declared, looking at the neatly tallied zero on his score card, right beside his word.
"Nope. Freelancer isn't worth any points. Sorry~!" Marley sang, already preparing to lay down her next word.
"GAH!" Flowdie exclaimed in frustration. "Now I know why no-one liked to play Scrabble with you!" Marley ignored this comment, laying down her next word and turning to check the screen. The live feed from Blood Gulch had been muted almost two hours ago when the Reds and Blues started arguing terms of surrender. Seeing Grif standing in front of the rest of the Reds, she called Flowdie's attention back to the main event.
"Oh hey! They're done!"
"Oh thank heavens! I don't think I could have stomached another loss," Flowdie said, throwing down his letters.
"Heh~! You really suck at Scrabble," Marley remarked, far too happily. Flowdie gave her a dark look.
"Drown in your tea," he muttered angrily, noticing her word had been 'project', worth eighteen points.
"... You got issues Flowdie," Marley remarked, mildly worried for her companion's mental state.
/*/
"Okay then!" Church called out, glad that that whole thing was out of the way. "We agree to the terms? You first! And then we send over the medic!"
"Get on with it Grif!" Sarge urged in his typical gruff manner. Grif sighed. 'Why does he hate me so much?' Dex Grif wondered, but put it out of his mind and went on with his part in the 'surrender' ('It's not a surrender!') with a sigh/moan.
"I would just like to let everyone know, that I suck," he yelled for the canyon to hear.
"And?!" Church prompted.
"And that I'm a girl," he forced himself to say, the Agent part of him already plotting painful, devious ways to get back at his teammates for this. Not to mention the Blues. He could hear Tucker's laughter and he knew Church wasn't unamused by his humiliation. 'A few close calls with my bullets, maybe a few punches, oh and why don't I throw in a few grenades while I'm at it,' the Agent mused, mentally rubbing his hands together like a Hollywood mad scientist.
"What else?"
"And I like ribbons in my hair... and I want to kiss all the boys."
"This my be the best surrender of all time," Sarge told Simmons in a rather wistful voice. Simmons, for his part, actually felt a little bad for Grif. This was rather humiliating, he had to admit. For his part, Grif's revenge plots toward Sarge shifted a little farther into the 'painful' category.
"Okay! Is that good enough!?" Simmons called to the Blues, hoping they'd let Grif off the hook now. Grif was far from being a girl... or liking ribbons, even in a girl's hair!
"Yeah!" Church yelled to them, and sent the medic their way.
"Man," Grif drawled as the medic ran up to him, "I re~ally hope you're worth this."
"Can I ask you a question? Do they put something in the water here?" the medic asked. Seeing the perfect opportunity to mess with the 'prisoner,' Dex gave the only answer he could.
"Water? We ran out of water six months ago." Catching on, Rick, Red, and Frank decided to play along, should it be required of them. Hey, they had to get a laugh somehow right? And there's only so many times you can prank someone in the same base as you without risking your life along with your sanity, which was already at risk when you decided to play the first prank.
"No water? Then what do you drink?" the man asked, which in all fairness was a legitimate question. But this was Blood Gulch and one should never ask legitimate questions and expect a legitimate answer.
"Uh, ya know, ketchup, uh, soy sauce, gravy, the usual," Dex said.
"I only drink the blood of my enemies! And occasionally a strawberry yoohoo," Sarge said, running up to the pair.
/*/
The Stupid was so strong, it forced Flowdie to question it. "But..."
"Blood. Gulch. Madness," Marley preempted, holding a a finger for each word. Undeterred, Flowdie turned to her and continued to point out the utter absurdity of Sarge's statement.
"They have water!"
"Oh yeah. Male Madness. And possibly Army Madness. Or is it Boredom?" Marley corrected, turning away in the classical Thinking Pose as her mind ran away with her. Flowdie stared at her for a moment before he gave up.
"Ya know what... Okay. I can let it slide. This time."
"Oh! How magnanimous of you!" Marley drawled, dramatics back in full force. Flowdie rolled his eyes at her.
"Shut up."
/?/
A/N: And Season Two Begins! Hope you enjoyed this one, which is fairly unchanged and has a lot more Blue than the last few. Let me know what you thought in that lovely box down below!
A/N 2: Spelling, continuity, and coherence have been checked and updated. You're welcome. 8/18/16