K.I.T. B.F.F.

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Tucker and Church in front of a rock with a note on it, written in binary and signed "Lopez y Sheila"

Querido Los Azul
  101001 001 01,
011 0111100 0110
010 "11001" 01001
110, 010010 010 -
010 00011 0.
Lopez y Sheila

Tucker: So Sheila and Lopez were just gone when you got back here.

Church: Yep. They even left a note. Says they've gone off to start their own robot army. That's great.

Tucker looks at the note then back at Church.

Tucker: Didn't they have a non-compete clause?

Church: Also says they want us to meet them in the middle of the canyon at 0600, to discuss the terms of our defeat, and or surrender... 0600. What does that mean...

Tucker: Isn't that when we're supposed to be surrendering to the reds?

Church: It means six o'clock, right? Si- or does it mean, six hun- o six hundred. Does six hundred mean minutes? Six hundred minutes? Because that'd be... that'd be ten o'clock. Is it six o'clock or is it ten o'clock?

Tucker crosses his arms in annoyance.

Tucker: Man, we should really get a day planner or something, 'cause this shit's just getting ridiculous.

Cut to the Red Base. Sarge and Sabine are standing with a black robot and a cobalt robot

Simmons: How's it going sir?

Sarge: Great! With these new color coded instructions, building robots has never been easier. Now all the thousands of mistakes I've made in my previous efforts seem laughably obvious, heh heh. Uh, except for you, Simmons. No mistakes there.

Sabine: I helped.

Simmons: Yeah, I didn't think so sir. You're great at this, even without any formal training, or first party certification. (shoots own foot)

Sarge stares at his foot then at Simmons.

Sarge: ...Son did you just shoot yourself in the foot?

Simmons: Yeah, I do that now sometimes. 'n' I'm not really sure why.

Sabine: Ha.

Sarge: I'm sure it's user error.

Grif: (running up to the top of the ramp) Hey guys, it's almost time. Are the robots ready yet?

Sarge: Juuuust puttin' on the finishing touches. Gentlemen! Allow me, to, introduce, Francisco Montegue Zanzibar (showing the black one). And this one over here is Robot Number 2 (showing the cobalt one).

Grif looks at the Cobalt one then at Sarge.

Grif: Why didn't this one get a fancy name?

Sarge: Let's just say somebody has an overclocked sass-back chip, and rejected all the names I came up with.

Robot Number 2: (The Close Encounters riff everyone knows, except the last note is an error-honking sort of noise) Stick it. You're not my real dad.

Sabine: Ha.

Sarge: But that's okay. I can even use it to my advantage. I made some special modifications on numero dos. Check it out. Robot, number two! Codewoooord: Dirtbag.

Robot Number 2: (two beeps, then the Mac "eep" sound)

Robot Number 2 runs over and punches Grif, then returns to his previous position.

Grif: Ow! Hey!

Sarge: Heh, heh heh. Pretty nifty, huh?

Sabine: Not funny.

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