Red Vs Blue: BloodGulch Chronicles(Malereader insert)(paused)

Red gets a delivery

Y/n, Grif and Simmons, were approaching another Red soldier clad in red armor named Sarge.

Sarge: Hurry up, ladies. This ain't no ice cream social.

Simmons: Ice cream social?

Y/n, Simmons and Grif exchange looks.

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, Y/n Is our mascot and Simmons here IS IN CHARGE OF CONFETTI!

Grif: I'm no stranger to sarcasm, sir.

Sarge: Goddamn it, Private! Shut your mouth or else I'll have Simmons and Y/n slit your throat while you're asleep!

Simmons: Oh I'd do it, too.

Sarge: I know you would, Simmons. Good man. Couple of things today, ladies. Command has seen fit to increase our ranks here at Blood Gulch Outpost Number One.

Grif and Simmons exchange looks again.

Sarge turns towards a hill behind them.

Sarge: Lopez, bring up the vehicle.

A large, armor-plated, jeep-like vehicle comes over the rise with Lopez in the driver seat, who pulls up along side the Reds.

Y/n: Shotgun!

Grif/Simmons: Shotgun! Fuck.

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.

Sarge: It has four inch armor plating, mag bumper suspension, a mounted machine gunner position, and total seating for three. Gentlemen, this is the M12 LRV! I like to call it the Warthog.

Cut to Grif and Simmons.

Simmons: Why Warthog, sir?

Sarge: Because M12 LRV is too hard to say in conversation, son.

Grif: I know, but why Warthog? I mean, it doesn't really look like a pig.

Sarge: ...Say that again.

Grif: I think it looks more like a puma.

Sarge: What in Sam Hell is a puma?

Simmons: Uh, you mean like the shoe company?

Grif: No, like a puma. It's a big cat, like a lion.

Sarge: You're making that up.

Grif: I'm telling you, it's a real animal!

Y/n: Sarge, It actually is a real animal.

Sarge: You even lied to my deputy! Simmons, I want you to poison Grif's next meal. 

Simmons: Yes, sir!

Sarge points at the two hooks on the front of the warthog.

Sarge: Look, see these two tow hooks? They look like tusks, and what kind of animal has tusks?

Grif: A walrus.

Sarge: Didn't I just tell you to stop making up animals?!

----

Church is seen wielding the rifle, and Tucker, wielding a M6D pistol.

Tucker: What is that thing?

Church lowers the rifle.

Church: I don't know, man. Looks like uh.. looks like they've got some sorta car down there. We'd better get back to base and report it.

Tucker: *taken aback* A car? How come they get a car?!

Church: What are you complaining about, man? We're about to get a tank in the very next drop.

Tucker: *disappointed* You can't pick up chicks in a tank.

Church: Oh, you know what? You could bitch about anything couldn't you? We're going to get a tank, and you're worried about chicks. What chicks are we gonna pick up, man? And secondly, how are you gonna pick up chicks in a car that looks like that?

Tucker: *sighs* What kind of car is it?

Church looks through the scope of the sniper rifle .

Church: I dunno, I've never seen a car like that before. It looks like a... uh... like a big cat of some kind.

Tucker: ...What, like a puma?

Church: Yeah, man, there you go.

----

Sarge: So unless anybody has anymore mythical creatures to suggest as a name for the new vehicle, we're going to stick with the Warthog. How about it, Grif?

Grif: No, sir. No more suggestions.

Sarge: Are you sure? How 'bout Bigfoot?

Grif: It's okay.

Sarge: Unicorn?

Grif: No really. Uh, I'm cool.

Sarge: Sasquatch?

Simmons: Leprechaun?

Y/n: Screw it, Nessy?

Grif: Hey, he doesn't need any help, man.

Sarge: Phoenix?

Grif: *sighs* Christ.

Sarge: Hey Simmons, what's the name of that Mexican lizard? Eats all the goats.

Simmons: Uh, that would be the Chupacabra, sir.

Sarge: Hey Grif, Chupathingy! How about that? I like it. Gotta ring to it.