Sarge: Attention: Blue Team! This is the Red Team! We are here to destroy you! Your long reign of being the shittiest team around is about to come to the sudden and cataclysmic end! We will give you a few moments to suck in the horrors of this announcement! And then return for your reaction. Be right back!
Sarge backs down towards Red Base, where Simmons and Grif are standing.
Sarge: Hehe. Alright, that oughta scare the bejeebus out of them!
Simmons: Actually, sir. Since it's just two of them over there—
Grif: And one is an idiot...
Simmons: —I don't really see the point in psychological warfare.
Sarge: You're right, Simmons. It's not really accurate to refer to one person as a team. What's better? Blue Person? Blue Man? Bluetonian?
Simmons: What I meant was—
Sarge: Bluetard!
Simmons: ...What I meant was, I don't see the point in announcing to them that we're gonna attack. Why don't we just do it?
Sarge: There's an order to this, Simmons. We can't abandon protocol just because we have an advantage! We have to give them a chance to see the errors of their Blue ways! To lay down their arms and meet their fellow men at the table of peace, where we can work together towards a better world. A world that's better, because we poisoned their food at that table, and stabbed them in the eye with a fork. And taken all their stuff.
Simmons: ... Dibs on the computers.
Sarge: Noted. Now watch that base. Tell me if anything changes.
Simmons: Yes, sir! And sir?
Sarge: Yes, Simmons?
Simmons: I just wanna say, I'm glad I was here to see you on your day of victory. It's been a long time coming.
Sarge: Yes it has, hasn't it? My skills as a leader have really taken us far. It must've been quite an honor to serve with me. (pause) Ah... okay. Glad we had this talk.
Simmons: [hopeful] Are you glad I'm here too, Sarge?
Sarge: Of course I am.
Simmons: I knew it! I just could—
Sarge: The squad's kill-death ratio is the most important measurement when evaluating sergeants! If you had died, that would've hurt my numbers.
Simmons: (sniffs; walks off) (dejectedly) Glad I could help!
Sarge: It's better to keep a little padding in our stats! That way, if we're far enough ahead, I can stab Grif in the face, and still stay in the lead.
Grif: You know, I'm standing right here.
Sarge: Right where I want you: within face-stabbing range!
A radio sounds.
Sarge: Lopez, Thea, how are those vehicle repairs coming?
Lopez answers.
Lopez: ¿Cómo van? El jeep está destruido. No se puede arreglar. [Coming? The jeep is destroyed. It can't be fixed.]
Thea: Yeah Sarge.
Sarge: Got an ETA?
Lopez: Sí. Nunca. [Yes. Never.]
Sarge: As long as they get it ASAP! Cuz I need it PDQ!
Lopez: En ese caso, nunca menos uno. [In that case, never minus one.]
Sarge: Lopez, you're a regular RFR—Really Fast Robot. Grif! Make a note in the acronym journal. Simmons! Status report!
Thea: You really need to learn Spanish.
Simmons: (watching over the Blue Base) Still just two Blues, sir.
Sarge: Lopez! Thea! Status report!
Lopez: ¡Ya hablaste conmigo, idiota! [You already talked to me, jackass!]
Thea: (Over radio) For the love of Loki! Stop talking to me!
Sarge: (runs back to the hill) Hey, Blues! Don't think we've forgotten about ya! Still gonna kill ya any second! (heads back towards his base) Count on it!
Grif: Sarge, have you thought this invasion all the way through?
Sarge: Of course I have! We beat the Blues; we win, you suck. That's all the way through.
Simmons returns as well.
Grif: Uh, and who do we fight then?
Sarge: We fight... with other Blues!
Grif: But what if no more Blues come? I mean they haven't sent reinforcements yet. What if they never do?
Simmons: Why would you want more Blues?
Grif: Well, we have this new base and all this new equipment. Who else are we gonna test it on?
Simmons: Who cares!? The war would be over!
Grif: Oh. Great.
Sarge: You're suggesting we don't attack them? Grif, that's borderline traitorism!
Simmons: I think the word you're looking for is treason, sir.
Grif: Never mind, Sarge. I was wrong. If the war's over and we win, well that's just great.
Sarge: Of course it would be!
Grif: I mean, no more early morning runs. No more training exercises. Why would we need to do any of that stuff, right? We won!
Sarge: Right...?
Grif: And all this new equipment—we can just let them fall into disrepair. I mean, we don't need it! We won't even need to test it, because we're winning. We're about to make it all obsolete.
Sarge: (groans)
Grif: And just think about this, Sarge! No more boring staff meetings! Ever!
Sarge: (groans some more; runs back to the hill) Hey, Blues! There's uh, gonna be a slight delay in your destruction! Hang tight! (to Grif and Simmons) Maybe I should call our new command. They'll tell us what we should do.
Grif: Heh, yeah, the old one was so great, the new one's gotta be even better.
A radio sounds.
Sarge: Command! Come in, Command! This is Blood Gulch Outpost-... wait... I mean, Simmons, what's the name of this place again?
Simmons: Valhalla.
Sarge: Valhaldagir-jangle-callit... thingy... Outpost Number One! Do you read? Come in! I need advisement on what to do about Blue Team!
Simmons: What are you doing?
Grif: What do you mean, what am I doing? We have one enemy here. We can milk this for years!
Sarge: No, Blue Team! (slowly) Ba-lue...
Caboose and Shawn waltzes up to Simmons and Grif, who fail to notice Them. They look back and forth between who's talking.
Grif: If we beat them, Command will just send us to some new base, where we have to fight a real team.
Simmons: So?
Grif: So!? Do you want to fight one shitty enemy, or five real enemies?
Sarge: B-L-U-E. Blue! Try lookin' under "suck it!"
Grif: You want me to help you subtract one from five? I know that's tough for you.
Simmons: Shut up.
Caboose: Hey guys.
Shawn: Sup.
They noticed the only blues in their canyon.
Simmons: What are you doing here!?
Caboose: Just gettin' parts from the crashed ship. What are you guys up to?
Shawn: Looks like fun.
Grif: We're deciding whether or not to kill you and wipe out your team forever.
Caboose: Ah. Sounds tough.
Shawn: We will not be dying today.
Grif: We're kinda splittin' the decision right now.
Caboose: Do I get a vote?
Shawn: Man, I never get a vote for anything.
Simmons: No! G-Get back to your base! Stop wandering around during your defeat. It's confusing!
Caboose: Oh! Okay. Sorry! (begins to head back towards his base)
Shawn: See y'a!
Simmons: And what are you workin' on?
Caboose: Still not telling you!
Shawn: These lips are sealed!
Sarge: Hello? Hello? Hello? They hung up on me!
Simmons: Why?
Sarge: They said they didn't even have record of a Blue Team. Nothing on Blues at all in their computer system.
Simmons: Oh. ... Ohhhh!
Sarge: What?
Simmons: We deleted them, remember? From Command computers. We wiped them out.
Sarge: We did?
Simmons: Yeah, don't you remember?
Sarge: Ohhh, right.
Cuts to a flashback. Grif and Sarge are standing behind Simmons, who is looking at a computer.
Sarge: Simmons, execute the hypotenuse initiative, and delete the Blues.
Simmons: (presses a switch) Done! The Blues now never existed. I also upgraded your pay scale while I was at it.
Sarge: Well deserved.
Grif: Yeah, we win!
Sarge cocks his shotgun and shoots Grif in the head. Grif falls over.
Grif: Blarg! I am dead, but that's okay, I don't deserve to enjoy victory. My life has meant nothing.
Sarge: What a great day! Simmons, transform into Motorcycle Mode.
Simmons: [monotone] You got it, sir. (begins changing into a motorcycle) Choop choop choop choop choop! Beep beep!
Sarge: Let's get out of here. (hops on motorcycle-Simmons and drives outside) Yee-haw!
End flashback.
Grif: That's not what happened!
Sarge: Of course it is.
Grif: Then how am I still alive?
Sarge: I ask myself that question every day. (pauses) Moto-Simmons! Run him over.