Chapter 4

9:25 AM, Blue Base.

"Suck it blues!" The sound of the 12mm automated 3-barrel Dylan gun broke the relative silence of the morning.

"Haha, yeah! Sneak attack!" said Grif, who was driving the warthog while Simmons fired the turret on the back.

"Shit! RUN!" Church ran for the base, sniper rifle on his back, arms over his head…hoping that Tucker would get shot. After a few seconds of under-fire running, Tucker and Church both made it into the safety of Blue Base alive.

"Hey, wait, where's Caboose?" Tucker now realized that Caboose hadn't been running with them.

The warthog made a full lap around the base, turret blasting at the hardened concrete walls. When the dust settled on one side of the base, Caboose was left standing alone, rocket launcher in hands, and very confused.

"Are you guys here for a turn with the rocker lawn chair? Well I have first dibs!"

"Shit, Caboose is still standing there," said Church. "As much as I hate that fuckin' guy, I'd rather not give the Reds the satisfaction of a kill on our side.

"Caboose, get over here you idiot, run!" Caboose simply cocked his head to one side.

"I am so confused. Why is there music playing? Are we having a party?"

Tucker held his hands to his head. "You moron, come here! Now! Those guys – the Reds – you – why the –"

Church began frantically waving his arms, poking his head out of the base a little. "Caboose, listen, they're coming back around, get in here! They got a fucking big gun on that! Use your brain, just – "

Caboose thought for a minute. "Use…big gun…oh!"

The warthog came around the base, gun blazing and Reds yelling. Caboose got angry and said, "I am Caboose…the vehicle destroyer! And you cannot have a turn with my rocker chair lawn gun!"

Caboose firing the SPNKr, and it sure spanked the hell out of the Reds. Flipping end over end, Reds screaming in fear, music still playing, the warthog flew over Caboose's head and smashed into the side of Blue Base.

9:30 AM, Red Base.

Sarge got up off the newspaper he had placed on the floor of the roof of Red Base, satisfied at how clean his Shotgun looked.

"Yessiree that's a mighty fine shotgun you got there! Heh heh heh…ya know, I'd like to test this on something…something orange…"

Donut came walking up the ramp from the grounds to the top deck of the base. "Oh hey Sarge! What's up?" Donut's mood was entirely too carefree.

"Oh…hello Donut. Say have ya seen Grif? I got a present for him…410 bb presents…"

Donut had no idea what that meant. "Aw, that's nice! I haven't seen him since him and Simmons went driving off in the warthog though…"

"Wait a minute Donut…they what?"

Donut smiled. "Yeah! Grif and Simmons went out for a drive! I assumed you knew about it sooo….."

The face Sarge made under his helmet would have made Medusa cringe.

"Donut…what is the thing I cherish most?"

"Umm…your shotgun?" the private replied.

"Correcto! And, what do I cherish most SECOND to my shotgun?

9:33 AM, Blue Base.

The remains of what WAS Sarge's second most cherished possession was sprawled out over 10 or 20 feet…at least its parts were. Bits of rubber and cement sprayed with fuel were aflame, and little wisps of smoke began to drift upwards as Simmons and Grif crawled from the wreckage.

"Simmons…what the fuck happened?! Are you ok?

Simmons scowled. "No you asshole. I'm wearing modern technological body armor that is meant to deflect bullets, absorb explosions, break falls, and prevent shrapnel from penetrating my skin. I am so fucking injured from a car crash right now.

Not a fan of sarcasm, Grif worked from there.

"Well that sucks! What are the odds of that?"

Tucker snickered. "Oh! Church, dude, he said penetrate! BOW CHICKA BOW WOW!" he hollered, loud enough for the Reds to hear him.

"Hey you blue dicks, you just blew up our warthog!" yelled Grif.

Church frowned. "That doesn't look like a warthog….more like a…" Tucker interrupted. "Oh he said dick! Bow chicka bow wow!"

"Tucker shut the fuck up," went Church. "What are ya gonna do, sue us?" yelled Church back to the Reds, still only poking around the corner of the outside-basement wall.

Simmons replied this time. "Well for one thing Sarge is gonna be pissed about this!"

"Well it's your fault!" Church yelled back. "We're kinda at war ya fuck nuts!"

Caboose was still standing a little bit away from the base, rocket launcher still in hand, one rocket still loaded. "This is so confusing. Why are we all yelling? Is the party over? I won!"

Simmons nudged Grif. "This isn't working. We need to think of a way to blame theme, because as much as I know Sarge will blame YOU for this, I did agree to take responsibility for anything that happened."

Grif was now staring at the pile of rubble. "What the fuck is this? Hey Simmons, look!"

"I don't have time for this Grif shut up!" Simmons pulled his attention back to the Blues. "If our Sarge finds out that YOU guys did this and not us, as an accident, then he's gonna murder every one of you!"

"Whatever, we already said, it's war!" Tucker replied.

Simmons started to panic a little. "You guys listen…I…we need s-"

He was then cut off by the sound and sight of Grif lugging the detached .12 mm 3-barreled machine turret towards the Blues, with a standard Red Team battle cry.

"Suck it Blues!"

Thanks for reading PLEASE review, and tell me if there's anything you might want to see happen in the story. Thanks, - Urgorn.