Fade in on Doc/O'Malley behind a turret.
O'Malley: Yeeees, this place is coming along nicely. Excellent work repairing the turrets, Lopez.
Lopez: [Thank you. I find manual labor stimulating.]
Doc: I still say a flowerbox would have been a bit more neighborly.
O'Malley: Oh shut up you fool!
Doc: Hey, we should start a neighborhood association. It's just like a government, but run by housewives and old people. So it's a lot more efficient at controlling your lives.
O'Malley: Get out of my head!
Doc: Technically it's my head. But I don't mind sharing. Don't you remember that talk we had about sharing?
O'Malley: Shut up!
Cut to a strange red soldier running toward ...something.
Red Zealot: At last! My pilgrimage is over! I have reached the promised land!
O'Malley: (running to the ledge, through the fan) Who is that. Oh no. Not this buffoon! How did he get here?
Lopez: [He probably was blown nearby by the bomb.]
O'Malley: Hellooooo. What do you want?
Red Zealot: The disembodied voice of God! (kneels) I hear you Holy One! I have made it to the temple and await your command!
O'Malley: Up here- Helloooo. Red Moron. Eyes up, chop-chop!
Red Zealot: Oh. Greetings! Are you the gatekeeper of the temple?
Doc: Us? No, we just moved in. Can you help us move a couch? And do you know any good restaurants nearby?
O'Malley: Just a second. (To Doc) Listen you fool, let me handle this.
Doc: I don't know, you haven't been the best choice when it comes to making friends. Maybe I should try.
O'Malley: Nonsense! With the proper handling, this fellow will make an excellent stooge. And I'm the one here with the most experience training Stooges. Isn't that right, Lopez...
Lopez: Nyuk, nyuk.
O'Malley: You see!?!
Doc: Okay, you can handle this, but I get to hang my motivational posters in the living room. Hang in there kitty!
O'Malley: Fine. But I'm telling you that cat will never make it to Friday. (To courtyard) Yes, I am the guardian of the temple. What do you want?
Red Zealot: I have travelled great distances, in search of enlightenment!
O'Malley: Reaaally, that's perfect. We have tons of that in here, but listen. We just can't let anyone in who wants to get in, so goodbye.
Red Zealot: Wait! I will do anything. Just tell me what I need to do to gain entrance.
Doc: Psst, ask him what he knows about gardening.
Lopez: [Ask him if we can have his shoulders.]
Doc: Maybe he knows how to use that computer we found.
The gate opens, in a very bizarre, unnecessarily cinematic graphical sequence.
O'Malley: Alright then come on in. We'll think of something, (evil laughter) (more evil laughter) (even more evil laughter) (still more evil laughter)
Lopez: [Tone it down. You're going to blow it.]
O'Malley: (yet again, more evil laughter)
Lopez: [OK, now that's just too much.]
In the distance, someone hides behind a pillar.
O'Malley: What was that? (turning away slowly) Hmm... (turning back quickly) Aha! Heh? (turning away) Hmm, a-ha! ...Minding my own business, slowly walking away and HAA, I got you! (turns around). ...Oh forget it.
Cut to Simmons, Ren, and Grif walking by a convenient skull.
Sarge: Ren, Grif, Simmons, where've you three been?
Simmons: Our patrol didn't go exactly as planned, Sarge.
Sarge: Did you find something? Wait a minute, where's the jeep?
Grif: Yeeaah, it's like this.
Sarge: Grif... blue guy and I just built that jeep, I don't want to hear that it's been destroyed.
Spectator: It's just destroyed?! Nu uh, I quit.
Spectator runs off.
Grif: Oh, well then maybe I should stop talking. Or you can stop listening.
Sarge: Grif!
Simmons: Nonono it's not destroyed Sarge, the engine just quit. Hey, you come back here!
Ren: I don't think he'll come back.
Sarge: And what exactly were you doing when the engine died?
Grif: Duh, getting the jeep outta the ditch.
Sarge: What was the jeep doing in a ditch?
Grif: Well I can tell you what it wasn't doing, and that's re-enacting the coolest scene from The Dukes of Hazzard ever.
Sarge: Rrrrrrrrrrrrr.
Grif: Simmons was driving.
Simmons: No I wasn't, I was holding the arrows and the dynamite!
Grif: Or Ren.
Ren: What? I literally was just walking!
Cut to the four of them looking at the jeep.
Sarge: Wait a second, this thing isn't busted, it's just outta gas.
Grif: It runs on gas?
Sarge: Of course not moron, where are we gonna get gasoline? I modified the fuel cells to utilize a form of cold fission, powered by solar energy.
Simmons: So then why is it dead, sir?
Sarge: You would have had to park it in the shade for at least two hours. What were you doing parked in the shade for two hours?
Grif: Well I can tell you what we weren't doing...
Ren: We didn't know what to do. (To himself) Actually, I do.
Sarge: Ah, forget it. Come on, help me push this thing in the sunlight. One, two, three!
Sarge and Simmons begin pushing the jeep, while Grif faces the other way and doesn't contribute at all. Ren simply stares at them, not offering any help either.
Simmons: Hurrrr...
Sarge: Hurrrrniaaa.
Grif: Hurr. Man this thing weighs a ton. Holy crap. Wowzers.
Simmons: Dumbass.
Grif: Oh right.
They all expect Ren to push it into the sun.
Sarge: Hurrrr.
Grif: Stupid jeep. (To Ren, who is walking in front of them) Hey, aren't you supposed to help us?
Ren: What? Well, I'm helping by leading the way.
Sarge: Grif, what happened to this fender?
Grif: It was like that when we took it out!
Sarge: And where's the hubcap?
Grif: Man, this neighborhood's really going to crap.
Sarge: I gotta buy those in sets of four, numbnuts.
Simmons: The jeep's getting power.
The jeep suddenly comes to life, just as Simmons predicted. However, to everyone's annoyance, the same stupid song starts blaring from the radio.
Ren: WHAT IS THAT MUSIC?!
Sarge: Turn that crap off.
Music stops, radio sounds are heard.
Tex: (over the radio) Come in, does anyone hear me? Over.
Sarge: What the, who's that?
Tex: (over the radio) This is Freelancer Tex, looking for anyone from the Blood Gulch Outposts, do you read. Over.
Grif: (Recognizing the voice) It's that mean chick from the Blue Team.
Ren: I think it's half shark chick.
Grif: That's a nice one.
Ren: I know, right?
Ren and Grif high-five.
Simmons: Hang up on her.
Sarge: Good idea.
Tex: (over the radio) I have found O'Malley's base. I repeat, I have found O'Malley's base.
Sarge: O'Malley? Son of a-
Simmons: Where is she?
Tex: (over the radio) They seem to be holed up in some kind of a fortress. I'm not sure how I got here or how they built it, but if you can read this, I need you to get to me as fast as you can.
Grif and Simmons talk over her transmission.
Grif: Maybe we could use the radio to triangulate her position.
Simmons: How? We only have one radio. We would need a third point to triangulate.
Grif: Okay, well let's just pick a point between her and us.
Ren: .......
Simmons: What? That's not a triangle you idiot, that's a line!
Grif: Right, a line that we'll follow straight to Tex! It's the perfect mathematical plan!
Simmons: Hey Grif, why don't you just stick to criticizing other people's ideas, instead of coming up with your own.
Grif: It does seem to be my talent.
Sarge: I could simulate a third radio by using some of this sand, and the heat from the jeep's tailpipe to make an enormous refractory lens. And then-
Grif: Or we could just listen to the coordinates she's sending.
Tex: (over the radio) My coordinates are two two niner delta, by one point three seven gamma.
Ren: (Clicks his tacpad) Okay, noted.
They talk over her again.
Simmons: Uh yeah, we could do that too. ...What's wrong Sarge?
Sarge: (sigh) Nothing.
Simmons: You really wanted to make the lens, didn't you.
Sarge: You're damn right!
Simmons: Well we can make it later, when we have more time.
Sarge: Awwww, don't patronize me.
Tex: (over the radio) I need you guys to come right away. Or better yet, send someone who can fight.