Doctor Nails

Chaos Insurgency Blood Gulch Outpost One
[[DATE EXPUNGED]]


A voice boomed over the intercom of Outpost 1, “ATTENTION ALL MEN! REPORT TO THE COMMONS AREA! DOUBLE TIME!” A lanky man with numerous mechanical prosthetics looked up from his workbench. In the Barracks, another quickly finished his phone call home, slung a belt of grenades over his shoulder, and rushed to the Commons area, grabbing his favorite jacket on the way. Within minutes, Dick Simmons and Franklin Donut had arrived in the commons area, standing at attention before their Sergeant.

“Simmons, Donut! What took you so long?” Sarge bellowed. “I said Double Time! And where the hell’s Grif?” Sarge was a large man, practically built from muscle. He wore a white tank top, and a standard Insurgency Uniform, the sleeves tied around his waist. Around his neck, he wore a set of metal dog tags. Atop his head were red tinted sunglasses.

“Sir! I was working on a project at my workbench.” Simmons quickly replied. The Insurgency’s second in command seemed quite out of place. Unlike his C.O. Simmons was tall and lanky, wearing cargo pants, a black t-shirt with the Chaos Insurgency’s emblem on it, and a maroon, unbuttoned collared shirt. Most noticeable were his limbs. In place of his right arm, left hand, and right eye were mechanical prosthetics. “On the other hand, I don’t know where Grif is. Apologies!”

“And I had to finish a call to my grandma,” Donut said. Of all the men present, Donut seemed the most out of place. Beneath his leather jacket, he wore a pink V-neck shirt. His styled blonde hair was combed into a parted sweep. The only thing that showed he had any combat experience was a belt of grenades slung around his shoulder. “I think I saw Grif in the Bath-”

“I’M RIGHT HERE!” Another man groggily walked into the room. His greasy black hair easily reached his shoulders, as if he hadn’t showered in weeks. He wore a stained orange hoodie and grey sweatpants. Strapped to his back was a massive weapon, resembling a cross between a grenade launcher and a machete. “Christ.”

“‘Bout time you showed up. We got a war to win!” Sarge screamed.

“What war?” Grif asked panting, “The only other ones here are those Foundation Guys!”

“Exactly Dumbass.” Simmons commented. “We’re the only ones here. Who else is going to keep them in check?”

“What do you mean ‘Keep them in check?’” Donut asked, confused. “I thought our job was to free the anomalies they have wrongfully imprisoned there.”

“What?!” Sarge exclaimed. “You idiots! Our job is to destroy the Foundation, totally and absolutely! Then we can take over and do their job better!”

“Right sir. How could I forget that?” Simmons quickly affirmed.

“Kiss-ass,” Grif quickly blurted out.

“We just have to free them,” Donut retorted.

“They’re too soft!” screamed Sarge.

“I agree with Sarge,” Simmons affirmed.

“Can I go back to bed if all we’re going to do is stand around and talk?” Grif complained.

“I mean, when I think of what they’re doing to those poor things, it just makes me boil until I eventually erupt into …”

“Shut up Donut!” Grif yelled. The Commons area erupted into a cacophony of yelling. Ultimately, the screaming came to an end when a loud voice boomed through the commons area.

“¡Oye pendejos!”1 Everyone went quiet and turned to look. The voice had come from a figure garbed in full SWAT gear. “¡El envío del Comando Delta ha estado aquí por quince minutos! ¿Lo quieres o no?”2

“Lopez is right, men.” Sarge said. “Fighting among ourselves isn’t going to get us anywhere.”

“Eso no es lo que yo dije.”3

Sarge laughed.”Oh Lopez, you old kidder.” He turned to the rest of his team. “Jokes aside, The reason I initially called you here is because we’re expecting a new shipment of Supplies from Delta Command today. New guns, new Jeep, the works! A bet there’s even a weapon that’ll make Grif actually competent.”

“That’s great news sir!”

“Fuck that. There’s no way I’m giving up the Grif Shot.”

Donut leaned over to Simmons, “Hey Simmons, what’s a Grif Shot?”

“Remember that time we had to team up with the Foundation to take down the Meta.”

“Only that Wash shot me.”

“Yeah, well long story short: Tucker stabbed him, we tied him to a car, and threw it off a cliff while Sarge distracted him. Meta died. Grif kept his weapon as a trophy.”

“Oh,” Donut realized. “I was wondering where that thing on Grif’s back came from.”

“¡Oye!” Lopez screamed. “¿Ustedes idiotas quieren su nuevo equipo o no? ¡El tipo se va en cinco minutos!”4

“Good point Lopez!” Sarge exclaimed. “We have to wait for our supply shipment to arrive. Got an ETA Lopez?”

“Si. Quince minutos atrás.”5

“Just arrived? Perfect! Let’s move men.”

As the team began to move out, Grif asked, “Did you at least request a new Speech unit for Lopez? I’m sick of having to use Google to understand him. Plus Simmons refuses to translate.”

“One, I’m Dutch-Irish! And two, I don’t know Spanish either!”

“I know Spanish!” Donut cheerily pointed out.

“Donut, four years of High School Spanish class don’t count.” Simmons fired back.

“Yes it does!”

“OK. Then how do you say ‘I’m in Hell right now?’” Grif challenged.

“Easy!” Donut exclaimed. He cleared his throat. “Soy una tostadora.”6

“Tu español apesta.”7

“Will you three numbnuts can it!” Sarge barked. “And for the record, I ordered the Anderson RoboticsTM Spanish speech module on purpose.”

“WHAT?!”

“I thought I’d add more diversity to the team, but looking back, you’re actually right Simmons! I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Grif facepalms. “God, I bet the Foundation doesn’t have to deal with this crap.”


Foundation Blood Gulch Outpost Alpha

Shooting Range


RATATATATA!

“GODDAMNIT CABOOSE!”

“NOT MY FAULT! TUCKER DID IT!”

Agent David Washington sighed. Directly to his right, Dr. Leonard L. Church’s body laid on the floor. A ghostly figure stood above it, with piercing green eyes that were staring daggers at the idiot who just shot him.

“Calm down, Church.” Wash ordered. “It’s not like this is the first time this has happened. Caboose, apologize for killing Church.”

“Church! I’m sorry for, uh, that thing that Washington said!” Micheal J. Caboose was, interesting, to say the least. He had the build of an athlete, and more than the strength to match.
He wore standard security equipment, and had his trusty assault rifle, Freckles, by his side.

“Shut up Caboose.” At this point, Church had repossessed his body. “And remind me why I’m here Wash. I’m a scientist. I don’t risk my life in Containment Breaches or attacks. That’s your job.”

“Church, Some combat training can be a lifesaver. And if anyone could use some, it’s you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’ve seen how you shoot. I didn’t know it was possible for anyone to miss a target from point blank while emptying an entire clip.”

“Up yours. My aim is fine.” Church picked up a nearby sniper rifle, carefully lined up a shot.

BLAM!

And missed by a mile. “Damnit!” He fired more shots, all of them missed.

“Hooray! Nice shot Church!” Caboose exclaimed.

“Don’t patronize me Caboose.”

Wash sighed, “I rest my case. Now get back to training.”

“Speaking of which, why the hell aren’t Tucker and Kai doing this too?”

“Kai’s getting a standard psycho analysis from Doc, and I have Tucker running an obstacle course. Pretty basic stuff.”


A figure ran through an open field. In his right hand, a push sword, its blade made up of crackling plasma. In his left hand, a riot shield. Lavernius Tucker ran like his life depended on it. Because it did. He was in a minefield. With active mines.

“WHO THE HELL PUTS AN ACTIVE MINEFIELD IN A TRAINING COURSE!?!?!”

Suddenly, a cardboard figure popped up. Tucker easily sliced it in half, only to get blindsided by a swinging log. WHAM!

“SERIOUSLY?!” Tucker screamed. “I’M GONNA KILL YOU, WASH!” Suddenly, a barricade popped up, hitting Tucker square in the jaw.


“Like I said,” Wash repeated, “Pretty basic stuff.”

“Man, actually kinda I feel sorry for him.” Church lamented.

“Don’t be. I tested the course on both myself and Caboose. We cleared it easy.” Wash reaffirmed.

“It was fun and I got to see stuff blow up!” Caboose cheerfully added in.

“What?” Church seemed confused. “Who’s talking about Tucker? I’m worried about Doc.”


A man in a white lab coat sat at his desk. He took a deep breath, and steeled himself. He turned on the recording device, ready to begin his interview.

Interviewed: Junior Researcher Kaikaina Grif

Interviewer: Medical Officer Frank “Doc” Dufresne

<Begin Log>

Dufresne: Is this thing recording? OK. This is Medical Super Private First Class Frank Dufresne, A.K.A. “Doc,” recording monthly psychological Evaluation of Foundation Staff at Blood Gulch Outpost Alpha. Interviewee: Junior Researcher Kaikaina Grif, also known as Kai. (turns on intercom) Come on in.

Grif: (Walks into interview room) What’s up, Doc?”

Dufresne: Please have a seat, Miss Grif.

Grif: If it’s all the same to you, I’ll stand.

Dufresne: Alright then. If you insist. Let’s take care of this fast so we can both get on with our day.

Grif: Wait, is this an interrogation? YOU WON”T GET ANYTHING FROM ME, COP! I HAVE RIGHTS! I’LL …

Dufresne: Calm down! Calm down! I’m not a cop! I’m a Medically specialized Conscientious Objector!

Grif: What?

Dufresne: I’m a Medic slash Pacifist.

Grif: Oh, so you’re a coward.

Dufresne: No, I’m a (pause), uh, well …Hey, I’m the one who’s supposed to be asking the questions!

Grif: Hah! I knew it! You are a [[EXPLETIVE REDACTED]]!

Dufresne: Language! We’re on record!

Grif: You really think that grey guy behind you is going to care?

Dufresne: Nice try. Both Tucker and Church already used that trick, and I’m not falling for it a third …

Grif: (slowed considerably) You ever think about how we’re all just a bunch of, like, lambs to the cosmic slaughter? Like, God is a super advanced AI, and we’re just a glitch in the Matrix.

Dufresne: … You’re high, aren’t you.

Grif: (slurring) Maybe.

Dufresne: God. Kai, what are you on?

Grif: I don’t know. Whatever was in your med-kit.

Dufresne: Rubbing Alcohol and Aloe Vera?

Grif: Yeah … plus some stuff I found. I think it was, Fabuloso.

Dufresne: Wait, what?

(Dufresne runs off.)

Grif: Hey, where you goin’. We’re just … getting … start …

<End Log>

Closing Statement: Medical Officer Dufresne abandoned the interview in order to find his medical kit, forgetting to turn off. Researcher Grif passes out shortly afterwards turning the recording device off after hitting it with her forehead.


“Seriously,” Church said, “ten bucks says Kai is high off whatever she could find, and Tucker is getting his ass handed to him."