Inside the Epsilon Unit of Blood Gulch, the Blue Team debates over which Red to kill. Another earthquake briefly occurs.

Tex: Ok, pick one.

Epsilon: Anyone?

Tex: Well, preferably one on that side of the canyon. But, uh, I'm not all that choosy.

Tucker: Why are you looking at me when you say that?

Tex: No reason...

Rho: Maybe she's just looking for an easy target...

Tucker: (quietly) Bow Chicka Bow Wow....

Rho elbows Tucker in the gut, making him fall to his knees wheezing.

Tex: Just pick one and take the shot. I'll cover you if they attack.

Epsilon: You mean, shoot them with this?

Epsilon raises his sniper rifle.

Tex: What else?

Rho: He's a horrible shot, Tex. Trust me, I've seen first hand.

Tex: Give me a break. He's a soldier.

Epsilon: Yeah well that's debatable.

Tex: Hit the rock over there.

Epsilon: Okay.

Epsilon takes two shots at a rock with the sniper rifle, but misses both shots.

Tex: Ugh...

Epsilon: Ya see, I think the uh.. the sun reflected off the rockface there and...

Rho: Why is it so hard for you to admit that you're shit with any gun that does or doesn't have a scope?

Tex: Just gimme the damn rifle.

Epsilon: Yeah okay. Thanks.

At Red Base, Donut and Lopez are outside, the latter of which is still maroon.

Donut: Hey Simmons, did you hear that?

Lopez: [Yes. It sounded like a rifle.]

Donut: I'm sure it's nothing.

Lopez: [Why would you say that? This is a war zone.]

Donut: Good point Simmons. Back to work!

Tex takes the sniper rifle from Epsilon and aims at the Reds.

Tucker: Dude, this has to be embarrassing for you.

Epsilon: I don't really want to talk about it.

Rho: Embarressed that you can't impress you're girlfriend?

Epsilon: Up yours.

Tex: Alright come on, it's not that hard. Which one should we take out? The pink one, the orange one?

Caboose: Pretty sure he's yellow.

Tex: Is it me, or does he seem a little slow?

Tucker: Yeah, Caboose was held back a grade. Or two.

Tex: I meant the orange one.

Tucker: Ohohoh, yeah he's just fat.

Tex: What about the red one? I mean, he's the leader, he seems tough. Or maybe the maroon one? He looks like he's up to something.

Tucker: How 'bout the guy with the skull tattoo on his helmet? He's the scariest one!

Tex: Don't really see him anywhere. Besides, I kinda feel like we're doing him a favor. Less idiots for him to deal with.

Epsilon: Yeah, I don't know? I can't really decide which one. Maybe we should put it to a vote.

Tex: You know what, screw it! The maroon one is closest, we'll just shoot him.

Tex shoots Lopez in the head with the sniper rifle, disassembling his entire body.

Epsilon: Uggh. Nice shot.

Tex: Thanks.

Lopez, who is now a disembodied head, looks at the scattered parts of his body.

Lopez: [Shit.]

Donut: Oh my God! Simmons! How did this happen?

Tucker cringes.

Tucker: Wow. That was pretty fuckin' brutal.

Rho: How? She shot their bot. It's not like there any organs or blood or anything spewing out.

Caboose: Andersmith. I kept my promise. You have been avenged.

Tex: You know what, let me shoot another one. I think you guys could use the advantage.

Epsilon: Umm.. are ya- are you sure?

Rho: Yeah, I mean no sense in over-doing it.

Donut falls to his knees, crying over Lopez, still thinking he's Simmons.

Donut: There was so much we had left to talk about! Like our feelings and hopes, and dreams! And why most of your insides are wires! How could you just explode like this?! We could have talked, you coulda told me what was wrong! NOOOOOOOOOHOHOOO!

Tex: Eh, maybe I'll let that one live. Might demoralize the rest of 'em.

Tucker: Good idea.

Tex: C'mon, let's pack it in.

Tucker: Does anybody else feel really, really dirty about this? And not the good kind of really, really dirty?

Rho: Tucker.... just shut UP.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

~Flashback to Freelancer~

Two Pelicans fly towards the city The pelican in the backround powers down its engines.

North: Team A, you look clear. Window is open. Start your clocks. On my mark. Mark.

Carolina: Sync. Roger that. Team A is moving.

Team A's pelican moves out.

North: Copy that Carolina. Good luck Team A.

Carolina: Thanks. We won't need it.

Inside Team B's Pelican, North turns to his team.

North: Alright Bravo, lets move out. We have 3 minutes until first alert. Let's have our target in hand by 2.

Team A enters the building. Washington, Maine, and California are on look out.

Carolina: We're in. York, get up here. How long to crack that lock?

York: Should take about 60 seconds. You can give me 15. Wow, it's a holographic. That's high-end.

Carolina: Can you get through it?

York: Of course I can. You didn't bring me along for my good looks, did you? Whoever designed this is a genius.

An alarm sounds.

Carolina: You were saying?

York: Ok, I take it back, whoever designed this is an asshole. There.

York successfully picks the lock, opening the doors to the Vault.

York: Everybody in.

Carolina: Thanks York, but do something about that alarm system. We don't need anymore surprises.

York: Does saying sorry count as something?

Carolina gives York a glare.

York: Hmm. Guess not.

Carolina: We'll secure the package. Set some trackers, then find us a way out of this.

California: Word of advice, mate? Never give a woman a reason to hold something over your head.

York: I'll keep that in mind, Cal. (runs off)

Carolina, California, Washington, and Maine enter the Vault.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

In another part of the building, two Insurrectionists here the alarm go off.

Insurrection Soldier: What the-?

Rambo: Looks like we got an alert on Sector 7. That's the vault. Take a team up there now.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Back in Blood Gulch, Sarge, Grif, and Donut are standing over the remains of Lopez.

Grif: Simmons is... dead?

Donut: I can't believe he's gone.

Sarge: Well, you know what they say in a time like this. He may be dead, but he's never truly gone. Until we get rid of all his gross body parts. Grif, go fetch a garbage pail.

Grif: Sarge, I'm grieving here, can't making up excuses to avoid work wait till later?

Sarge: You're right Grif. I suppose someone should say a few words. Anybody? C'mon who knew him best? Donut?

Donut: Um, I think he said he liked gum once. I don't know, that's kind of all I got.

Sarge: How about you, Grif?

Grif: Me? Why me?

Donut: C'mon, Grif and Simmons. You guys were inseparable! Surely you guys must have gotten to know each other over the years.

Grif: Yeah, I don't know. He would talk a lot and I'd lose interest immdiately. And then he would ask me a question and I would just go "Huh? What? Oh yeah, sure Simmons. Whatever you say." It wasn't a perfect system, but it was ours.

Sarge: But he always stayed by your side. Isn't there anything you remember him telling you?

Grif: Huh? Oh uh, yeah Sarge. (mumbles) whatever...

Donut: What about you sir? Simmons always loved helping you.

Sarge: He did have a knack for following orders.

Slade and Simmons walk up behind Sarge.

Sarge: Sometimes I'd, make things up, just to keep him off my back. One time I told him to disassemble the jeep, and rebuild it, just to keep him busy. Heh heh heh... I'll miss doing that.

Slade: Oi, fellas. Look who I found!

Sarge: Can it Slade, we're trying to give Simmons' eulogy.

Simmons: But I'm not dead, I'm- wait, you guys are talking about me? In a good way? Oh never mind, go ahead. Please, continue.

Slade: Simmons, I don't think this is gonna go how you th-

Simmons: Shh, shut up! Don't ruin this for me!

Sarge: Gentlemen, we are here to pay our last respects to Simmons. He died so suddenly, and so violently.

Simmons: Oh man, this is the best day ever.

Sarge: Simmons wore maroon armor, he talked a lot and did some work. Also, he liked gum...The end.

Simmons: What?! That's it?! That's my funeral?!

Slade: Told you not to have high hopes for this.

Sarge: Not quite. Let's get that garbage pail.

Donut: I remembered the gum thing.

Simmons: I'd never imagined that my death could some how be worse than my life, but here it is. Bitchin'.

Grif: I contributed to the "talks a lot" part.

Simmons: I don't talk a lot, I talk a regular amount. Do you really think I talk a lot?

Grif: Huh? Oh yeah, sure Simmons. Whatever.

Simmons: I hate you.

Slade: (chuckles) Karma's come to collect that debt.

Donut: Oh man, I just realized! I could've made a flower arrangement for the funeral! Ah, there's just so few chances to do that around here.

Grif: Don't worry Donut, I'm sure one of us will get killed again soon.

Donut: Aw, you're just trying to make me feel better, and I love that about you.