Temple of the Key

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Fade in to Crash Site Alpha. Two Feds - a Technician and a Soldier - are taking cover behind rocks and ship wreckage. There's a firefight ongoing around them.

Lap Fed: Oh God, I'm hit!

Crash Site Fed: Medic! We need a medic over here!

The Rebel Medic runs to them.

Rebel Medic: I'm a medic! Calm down, soldier. Where are you hit?

Lap Fed: Oh, those bastards got me. They got me right in the lap!

Rebel Medic: Alright, ah... I'm sorry, what was that?

Lap Fed: Urrgh, the lap!! I was shot in the lap!!

Rebel Medic: So, like your upper thigh?

Crash Site Fed: Didn't you hear him? He said HIS LAP!!!

Lap Fed: Oh God, my lap!!

Rebel Medic: It's just that that's not really proper anatomical-

Crash Site Fed: (interrupts) Well, excuse my friend here for not being a certified medical genius!!

Lap Fed: Ungh, come on, lady! I need some slack, I'm bleeding out here!!

Rebel Medic: Um, right. Sorry. Are you hit anywhere else?

Lap Fed: Uh, my tummy!

Crash Site Fed: They got'im right in the tummy.

Rebel Medic: (sighs) This is gonna be a long day.

The Reds drive past in their Warthog. Cut to the Reds, Grif stops the Warthog.

Sarge: Simmons! Status report!

Simmons: We're completely surrounded, severely unprepared and reinforcements aren't coming any time soon!

South: In outher worlds were well mostly you guys are completely and utterly fucked.

Sarge: (climbs out of the warthog) Excellent news!!

Grif: Excellent?!

South: I think being a cornol  has made you insane.

Sarge: I was beginning to worry this wasn't gonna be much of a fight! But ya gotta hand it to those villains, always one step ahead. (chuckles) You can learn a thing or two from them, Simmons.

Simmons: I'll be sure to keep that in mind if we survive, sir.

Grif hops out of the warthog.

Grif: (mockingly) Any bright ideas, Colonel?

Sarge: The way I see it, we'll punch through the Pirates' defenses with an adrenaline-fueled slow-motion car crash! Thus creating an opening for us to escape and allowing me to scratch one more thing off my "fuck it"-list.

Grif: How do you just make something slow-motion?

South: That doesn't seem physical possible infect it is impossible Rode Island tried to get a car to fly in slow motion and she died in an explosion.

Sarge: If it's epic enough, life finds a way. Then it wasn't epic enough.

Simmons: Love the enthusiasm! It's great, sir. Really. But don't you think we could try something, that won't get my head blown off?

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