Red Gets a Delivery

                                    

                                          
Pan out on Grif and Simmons, who are approaching another Red soldier (Sarge) clad in red armor.
Sarge: Hurry up, ladies. This ain't no ice cream social.
Simmons: Ice cream social?
Simmons and Grif exchange looks.
Cut to Sarge.
Sarge: Stop the pillow talk, you two. Anyone want to guess why I gathered you here today?
Grif: Uh, is it because the war's over and you're sending us home?
Sarge: (Sarcastically) That's exactly it, Private. War's over. We won. Turns out you're the big hero and we're gonna hold a parade in your honor. I get to drive the float, and Simmons here IS IN CHARGE OF CONFETTI!
CT snorted.
Grif: I'm no stranger to sarcasm, sir.
Sarge: Goddamn it, Private! Shut your mouth or else I'll have Simmons slit your throat while you're asleep!
Wash's brows shot up. "That escalated quickly."
Simmons: Oh I'd do it, too.
South cackled. "I like those two." She snickered.
Sarge: I know you would, Simmons. Good man. (brief pause) Couple of things today, ladies. Command has seen fit to increase our ranks here at Blood Gulch Outpost Number One.
Grif: Crap. We're getting a rookie.
York grinned at Wash. "Rookies are the worst. Am I right, Wash?"
Wash shot York an annoyed look while the rest of the group chuckled. Maine ruffled Wash's hair.
"Har har har har York. Very funny." He grouched but didn't really look upset.
Sarge: That's right, dead man. Our new recruit will be here within the week, but today we received the first part of our shipment from Command.
Grif and Simmons exchange looks again.
Sarge turns towards a hill behind them.
Sarge: Lopez, bring up the vehicle.
CT looked at the screen, confused. "I thought Lopez was neutral since he wasn't on either of the teams. What's he doing on Red team?"
Florida shrugged. "Maybe a mistake in production?" He suggested.
Wyoming groaned. "Oh dear god I hope not. That's easy and basic editing." Wyoming began to cuss out the editors for the show, despite not knowing the person (or person's) name.
York leaned over to Carolina and murmured, "May god have mercy on that poor bastard's soul." She grunted in agreement, watching Wyoming with faint amusement.
A large, armor-plated, jeep-like vehicle comes over the rise with Lopez in the driver seat, who pulls up along side the Reds.
Simmons: Shotgun!
Grif: Shotgun! (realizes he is too late) Fuck.
Wash winced. "I feel your pain."
Sarge: May I introduce our new, light reconnaissance vehicle.
Camera closes in on the front of the vehicle and starts to move left, circling it.