Achievement Platoon 10 part 2
In the end, it was chaos.
Once Tucker had caught wind of a CTF game, he wanted his squad in and Caboose followed, not wanting to be left out.
It took some begging and pleading, but Kimball relented to letting them use the whole compound.
With four platoons involved, the logistics caused a slight delay, much to Grif's chagrin. Simmons was getting worse, and the confusion over what exactly a girly lap was still remained.
Grif's Platoon, which he was calling the Hunters for no particular reason beyond needing a name, performed admirably, despite the efforts of some of his squad it seemed. He could have done without the screaming.
However, Simmons had been waiting for him. Grif knew he was going to have to do this alone.
"Join me, Grif. And together we can lead this rebel army, and claim complete and utter victory for the red team!"
"You are the biggest fucking nerd, you know that, right?"
"Sarge never told you what happened to your father..."
"I'm not doing this," Grif sighed, pushing past Simmons to grab the flag. Simmons grabbed onto it as well, and the two of them grappled like toddlers over a teddy bear.
"Grif, what are you doing?! This is my flag and my squad! I was born to lead them!"
"You are not the chosen one!" Grif shouted, wrenching the flag away from Simmons, and snapping it over his knee. "Sarge taught us better than that. Despite the fact that he's a senile old man."
In the end it was hard to tell who won.
There had been a lot of yelling and screaming, particularly from Caboose's squad. Tucker's platoon was like a well-oiled machine until they encountered the Tower of Pimps, and were really only successful in carting away one block with the help of some of Red Team: The Next Generation, before being picked off by the two guards left by Grif.
No one was really sure how Tucker's barracks had been covered in toilet paper. Or how Caboose has somehow wound up with two pieces of the Tower of Pimps.
At least the "training exercise" part had been considered a success.
When Simmons didn't show up for supper, Grif went looking for him. He'd intended to bring Simmons dinner, but everyone knew how that would end so he went emptyhanded. He found Simmons in his barracks, staring at the remains of the flag.
"It really was a piece of shit," Grif said, sitting across from him.
"Yeah, we all can't have towers of gold," Simmons replied, bitterly.
"Hey, you've seen that thing up close. It's also a piece of shit," Grif replied. Simmons paused, about to retort before nodding in agreement. It looked impressive, but once you got up close anyone could see it was shoddily painted wood.
"Look Simmons. I'm sorry I wrecked your stupid flag, but you were going into power-crazy-robot-overlord-simmons-mode, so I had to stop you somehow."
"I know. I just...I wanted them to like me. And to be a good leader, like you or Tucker. Or Caboose, somehow."
"I think they're all just terrified of him. There's a lot of rumours floating around."
"And I'd hardly call myself a good leader. Those guys are fun to mess with, that's all. So maybe try that, mess with your squad a little..." Grif paused, thinking for a moment. "Actually, wait. Don't do that."
"Look, just get to know them a little. You're a nerd so maybe try talking about nerd stuff."
"Thanks for the pep talk, Grif." It was sarcasm, but the kind of sarcasm that suggested that Simmons might take the advice. "I guess I did go a little crazy with power."
"You were bringing up girly laps."
"What the fuck is a girly lap anyway?"
Simmons didn't answer, but instead headed toward the door. "I'm going to the mess hall."
Satisfied, Grif got up to join him. It was definitely time for thirds.
"I know I said this was like Star Wars, but if you ever make me act out Star Wars again, I'll hurt you."
