Tully's jeep lurched and banged into Allied HQ – but only because Tully wasn't the one driving it.
Moffitt winced as Peterson jammed the brakes on, hard, for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. His tailbone jarred against the hard leather seat and he nearly yelled at Peterson. That bitten back urge had come to him a hundred times as well. He clenched his jaw and consoled himself with the thought that they were at HQ, he could get out and walk away. As long as his spine was still intact.
Hitch and Troy were already in Commander Boggs' tent, but Peterson had managed to get lost along the way and they were fifteen minutes late as it was.
"That's good enough, Peterson," Moffitt said, preparing to hop out. Gingerly, of course.
Just then, Hitch and Troy emerged from the tent. Followed by someone who could only be...Tully?
"I'll just take it from here, Sarge," Tully said, sauntering up to him.
"We've got a new mission," Troy said. "Let's shake it!"
Peterson scrambled out of the driver's seat, and Tully slid in. Moments later, both jeeps were rattling away in a cloud of dust. All Moffitt could do was sit back, revel in the smoothness of Tully's driving, and wonder, "What just happened?"