Sorry for the long wait. This one's more of a comedic chapter.
The Mobian Army Presents
PSA: Nothing Ventured, Nothing Sprained
Two mobians face the camera. One appears to be an Oxpecker, clad in maroon armor. The other is a noticeably overweight bear, wearing orange armor. They hold some sort of rifle in their hands.
Simmons: Hi! I'm Private Dick Simmons, representing the Mobian Army!
Grif: And I'm Private Dexter Grif, doing the same against my wishes.
Simmons: As you may have noticed, things have recently changed around our beautiful city.
Grif: The b*****in forest we once called home is now a barren wasteland. F*** climate change, am I right?
Simmons: Yes, it seems some apocalyptic event beyond our understanding has altered our tiny planet beyond recognition. New environment, new neighbors, and worse yet, new fangled social trends that nobody understands!
Grif: It's a dark day for us all.
Simmons: Luckily, we are here to help you deal with all these new changes.
Grif: Stick with us, and soon, these changes won't be the skin off your back, or the existential dread in your mind of impending doom lying out beyond the stars!
Part 1: Your new environment.
Simmons: As we've mentioned, the first startling change you've likely noticed is the new stretch of beachfront property dropped right on our doorstep!
Grif: Bad f***ing news, it's only half the beach, and not the good half.
Simmons: Worse news, the sand is every bit as rough, coarse, irritating, and omnipresent as you've heard.
Grif: By the time you've woken up and taken two steps from your bed, you've got sand in places that you thought didn't exist!
Simmons: Even so, we've been placed in a delicate, untouched ecosystem that didn't ask or want us to be there. So, what do we do?
*Construction noises are suddenly heard as the camera pans over to a base being built.*
Simmons: Of course, we upheave it and mold it to our liking!
Grif: We've already dropped a damn city on top of it. Who cares if we mess it up some more? Besides, those cacti have had it too good for too long.
Simmons: Don't be afraid to make it welcoming! After all, you're gonna be here a while-
Grif: Especially if your sh***y ruler decides to send you to make a base in the bumf*** middle of nowhere just because you accidentally blew up his sleeping quarters.
Simmons: -So you need to make it as comfortable as possible! Quality over quantity. Right, Lopez?
*Camera pans over to a brown gizoid, who is clearly doing all the work.*
Lopez: ¿Qué sabes de calidad? Ustedes, idiotas, ni siquiera pudieron darme un chip de voz que funcionara. [What would you know about quality? You morons couldn't even give me a working voice chip.]
Simmons: That's right, Lopez. We're not disrupting the ecosystem... we're just making one for ourselves!
Lopez: Idiota. [Idiot.]
Simmons: Still, building a new home for yourself won't be enough. You'll still need to be prepared for the desert heat.
Grif: It's a scorcher out here. The heat alone could fry fifty eggs all at once! And yet, it makes for a b****in breakfast.
Simmons: Wait a minute, is that where all the eggs went?! You fatass, we need to be savoring our rations, not wolfing them down on the first day!
Grif: If you're angry about that, you might not want to hear about our bread rations.
Simmons: Ugh... anyway, what you should really be doing is conserving food, and more especially, water.
Grif: This heat's more oppressive than your dad, so you'll be sweating like a pig. So, make sure to hydrate plenty.
Simmons: As for clothes, the trick is to-
?: (Offscreen) Not wear such stuffy armor!
Simmons: Huh- OH GOD!
Grif: Donut, what the hell?! Where's your armor?
Simmons: F*** that, mobians are always naked! HOW THE HELL DID YOU TAKE OFF YOUR FUR?!
Donut: (OS) Oh, it's just something I learned in college from some buddies! I'll never forget my skin on skin experiences!
Simmons: Aw man, forget I asked! Just put your armor on... put your fur on, for f***'s sake!
Grif: Maybe it should be obvious, but don't be like our panther acquaintance take off your damn clothes... or your fur, for that matter.
Simmons: For those of you who have exposed patches of skin, the sun can actually easily burn you. The actual trick is to wear loose, breathable clothing that covers your body.
Grif: Basically, the f***ing opposite of heavy, metal armor.
Simmons: Unless you are contractually obligated to leave said armor on, even while asleep, then make sure to dress appropriately.
Grif: So, you're ready to get blisters in a sandy nightmare. But that's not the only thing you're going to be dealing with!
Simmons: Yes, you're surroundings are only one part of the equation. For you see, next we have...
Part 2: Your new neighbors.
*Wide shot zoom in as two new armored individuals can be seen, one in light blue armor, holding a sniper rifle- he appears to be a honey badger. The other is clad in aqua armor, and looks to be a bonobo.*
?: I mean it man, you could totally pick up chicks on an extreme gear board!
?: Oh, right, Tucker. How f***ing romantic. "Hey, babe, want a ride on my skinny piece of metal? The fear of falling to your death is a total turn on. Maybe you'd like to ride in front and get bugs stuck to your teeth.
Tucker: Aw, piss off, Church. You're just mad cause I thought of it before you did.
Church: Oh, you're right, Tucker. I'm so jealous that I don't have your sex-addicted thoughts in my head 24/7. I'm at a loss without 'em.
Tucker: Hey, you can hate all you want, but by the end of the night she and I are gonna be part of the mile-high club. Bow chicka wow wow!
Church: Wait, wait, shut the hell up... the hell is that music?
*A hover ATV flies over the dunes, heading straight for the two blue-clad individuals. Both duck out of the way just in time.*
Church: HOLY F***!
Tucker: SON OF A B****!
*As the ride comes to a stop, the music is turned off. Simmons and Grif step out, while an unnamed eagle in pure red stays in the passenger seat.*
Tucker: Who the fuck are these assholes?!
Church: I dunno... maybe they're from Resistance HQ? Maybe Commander Knuckles is finally pulling us off this middle of nowhere post.
Tucker: Dude, those guys haven't talked to us since they sent us Caboose. I'm not even sure they remember we exist.
Simmons: As you may have heard, after the whiteout event, not only was the environment changed, but the people were too.
Grif: Not only did that giant flashlight create a bunch of random assholes you've never heard of, but anyone outside the city limits was changed entirely! Pretty miserable for most people whose loved ones lived outside the city... but pretty awesome for those of us who owed 20 bucks to a cousin Jerry. So, you know, silver lining.
Simmons: It's imperative that we treat our new fellow furry folk with the proper reaction... disdain and paranoia.
Grif: We were totally on this planet first. Why should we have to share it with a bunch of jackasses who came out of nowhere? They're getting their fingers all over our stuff, man.
Simmons: But how do you classify these altered individuals? Well, a few terms have been rolling around. The Rebooted, Genesis Births, Neo Mobians...
Grif: Freaks of nature, punk ass b****es...
Simmons: But we're here to tell you the proper terms. With help from our resident expert, our very own Sergeant... er, Sarge!
*The eagle jumps out, walking up.*
Sarge: Thank you, Simmons! I can always count on you for an introduction! Unlike that lousy Grif...
Grif: What the hell are you getting mad at me for? You were the one who assigned Simmons to do your intro.
Sarge: And yet, you still found a way to disappoint me! Almost as if your mere presence is a void of suckage that ruins everything around it! Still, Simmons, you did the best you could, in spite of the circumstances.
Simmons: I'm glad I could make you proud, sir!
Grif: Kiss ass...
Church: Yyyyeah, I don't think they're from HQ.
Tucker: Yo, jerkoffs! Thanks for almost running us over! The hell do you want?!
Sarge: As you can see, these so-called "Genesis Births" are a rotting growths on our once beautiful world.
Church: The f*** is he talking about?
Tucker: I think he's talking about us!
Church: What?! You assholes nearly run us over and now you're calling us the rotting growths?!
Sarge: Notice their aggressive behavior. These new mobians get riled just at the sight of one of us Mobotropilans. Likely because of their immediate sense of inferiority upon seeing us.
Church: Inferiority?! You f***ing d***, I ought to shoot you in the kneecap!
Tucker: Dude, you can't even hit the broad side of a mountain. You'd have better luck firing in the completely opposite direction.
Sarge: As you can see, they're prone to fits of violence at even the smallest provocation! And what's worse, they're pretty darn dumb.
Tucker: What the f***, man? You don't even know us!
Church: Yeah, what makes you think you can just call us stupid like that?
?: CHURCH! CHURCH!
*A Rhinoceros Beetle ran up to the other two, clad in pure blue armor.*
Church: Caboose, we're busy! what the hell do you want?
Caboose, Ah, it's terrible, Church. I lost Sandy!
Church: Sandy?
Tucker: Caboose, I swear to god, if you brought that giant caterkiller home again...
Caboose: No, my sand particle! She's lost and I can't find her!
Tucker: Huh?
Grif: Say what now?
Church: Caboose, what the hell is so important about this sand particle?
Caboose: Well, you told me about how I could get a pet, but you wouldn't let me get a dog, or a cat, or a bird, or a hamster, or a bunny, or a chinchilla, or a bear... but you finally said yes when I asked for a pet rock.
Church: Yeah, because leaving any animal with you is a death sentence, and I thought you'd at least keep yourself busy with a rock and leave me alone. ...Wait a minute, Caboose, are you saying the pet rock you chose was a piece of sand?
Caboose: Oh, she was so adorable, Church! There was so many different breeds in the kennel, but the moment we laid eyes on each other... *sniffs* It was like love at first sight!
Church: God damn it, Caboose! Sand isn't a rock!
Simmons: Technically, that's exactly what it is.
Church: You stay out of this, asshole! F***, Caboose, just pick another one out! There's like a million of them!
Caboose: No! There was only one Sandy! And I will not rest until I find her! Even if I have to scour this entire dessert! Even though there is no dessert out here! *He runs off* SANDYYYYYY!
*Church and Tucker glance at Caboose's retreating form, before turning to meet Sarge's stare- one can easily feel the smug grin under his visor.*
Sarge: ...Heheheh. Can you boys say, vindication?
Church: Oh, f*** off. He's the exception, not the rule. I'll bet one of you is also aggressive, violent and stupid too.
Sarge: What?! You take that back! Or else I'll shoot your torso full of shotgun pellets! *He aims and fires, but only a click is heard.* Whoops. Left the darn thing on safety.
Grif: Wow. Proved him right on all points in only one reply. You sure showed him, Sarge.
Sarge: Watch it, dirtbag, or you'll get the shotgun diet after them.
Simmons: Could we move on, please?
Sarge: Right then! As I was saying, when you see such traits in another Mobian, it means that they're really one of them new fangled folk! It can be confusing at times to describe the differences between us originals and these fakers! But we here in the Mobian army have come up with a perfect term!
Grif: And by "Mobian Army", he just means our lousy team.
Sarge: Shut it, Grif! The key term used to describe these devious deceivers is... Belligerent Leaches that are Undeserving of Existence! Or for short... BLUEs!
Grif: That's the name you came up with? that might be the lamest acronym ever... of all time!
Simmons: W-W-Well, I, um... thought it was pretty good.
Sarge: But when you need to point out one of the fine folk of New Mobotropolis, you can remember this other easy term... Radical and Extreme Do-gooders against no good, dirty scoundrels who probably want to replace us with mutants and wipe out our city with an army of ressurected dinosaur people! ...Or REDs, for short.
Grif: And I retract my previous statement.
Simmons: Either way, keep these terms in mind, and you'll be able to discern between REDs and BLUEs in no time!
Church: You done being jackasses yet? *He and Tucker aim their guns at the REDs.* Cause now I'm gonna have to ask you to get the f*** off Resistance protected land.
Sarge: Ohohoho, is that so, dirty BLUE? And who's gonna make me? *The REDs take aim as well.*
Caboose: (radio) Church! Church!
Church: Oh, for f***'s sake, what now Caboose?!
Caboose: You're not going to believe it! I found Sandy!
Church: yeah, that's great Caboose, now will you-
Caboose: She was in the last place I looked! The tank cockpit!
Church: What?! No, Caboose, get out of there!
Caboose: Oops. I started it.
Church: ...S***.
*A resistance tank rolls around the corner, its barrel pointed at the two groups, before firing and hitting the ATV.*
Grif: Son of a b****!
Simmons: Son of a b****!
Tucker: Son of a b****!
Sarge: Everyone! Scatter!
*Both REDs and BLUEs scream their heads off as they run around, trying to keep out of range of the death machine. Another loud explosion is heard.*
Caboose: Tucker did it!
Tucker: Shut up, you dumbass!
*Cut to Simmons and Grif, their armor singed and covered in sand.*
Simmons: We hope we've helped you come to terms with your new and unexpected situation.
Grif: Remember what we've taught you, and you should handle this event with little to no shrapnel lodged in your side. *He turns to Simmons.* Uh, Simmons, I'm gonna lie down now. *He collapses.*
Simmons: Now get out there and punch change in the face, fellow Mobians!