In the canyon valley of Valhalla, Sarge runs to the top of a hill and yells out at Blue Base.

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, Grif, and Slade 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...

Slade: And the other is my girlfriend who WILL beat the shit out of you wankers if you try anything...

Simmons: —I don't really see the point in psychological warfare.

Sarge: You're right, Simmons. It's not really accurate to refer to two people as a team. What's better? Blue People? Blue Men? Bluetonians?

Simmons: What I meant was—

Sarge: Bluetards!

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 'em in the eye with a fork. And taken all their stuff.

Simmons: ... Dibs on the computers.

Slade: Sarge, be prepared to lose what little sense of male masculinity you have left after South wipes the floor with you lot.

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. (pauses) 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 and walks off, dejectedly) Glad I could help!

Slade: You literally ran straight into that, mate! Why is it so hard for you to stop relying on older figures of insane COs?

Sarge: (muttering) I'm not THAT old.

Slade: Sarge, with a deep voice like yours and given when I first met you in Blood Gulch, I'd say you'd at least have to be somewhere in your forties.

Sarge: Do I need to demote you again?

Slade: Did you already forget that I'm a Freelancer? Your orders mean JACK to me, mate. I only listened to you before cause I didn't want blow my cover. FYI: cover's been blown four years ago. So do me a favor, and just stick to insulting Grif.

Grif: You know, I'm standing right here.

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: Again, right here.

Sarge: Right where I want you: within face-stabbing range!

Sarge turns on his radio.

Sarge: Lopez, how are those vehicle repairs coming?

Lopez: [Coming? The jeep is destroyed. It can't be fixed.]

Sarge: Got an ETA?

Lopez: [Yes. Never.]

Sarge: As long as they get it ASAP! Cuz I need a PDQ!

Lopez: [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!

Simmons: (watching over the Blue Base) Still just two Blues, sir.

Sarge: Lopez! Status report!

Lopez: [You already talked to me, jackass!]

Slade: (turns on radio) Hey, Lopez. How about we do some target practice with their helmets later on?

Lopez: [That's a plan I can get behind. I'll bring the spare ammo.]

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 the 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.

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!

Slade: Over? The war's BEEN over since we worked together to stop Omega!

Simmons: That doesn't count. It was a temporary truce.

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: (runs back to the hill) Hey, Blue! There's uh, gonna be a slight delay in your destruction! Hang tight! (to Grif, Simmons, and Slade) 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.

Slade: Hopefully, it isn't somebody that speaks that gibberish shit that Vic always did.

Sarge: (turns on radio) 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-jaggle-callit... thingy... Outpost Number One! Do you read? Come in! I need advisement on what to do about Blue Team!

Slade: He seriously can't even pronounce our new canyon name. That just proves he's old.

Simmons: (to Grif) What are you doing?

Grif: What do you mean, what am I doing? We have two enemies here. We can milk this for years!

Sarge: No, Blue Team! (slowly) Blue...

Caboose waltzes up to the three Reds, who fail to notice him. He looks back and forth between them as they speak.

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?

Slade: Even then you wouldn't get off your fat arse! It's not like you did much to fight the Blues back in Blood Gulch to begin with.

Sarge: B-L-U-E. Blue! Try looking 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.

Simmons: (spins around) What are you doing here?!

Caboose: Just gettin' parts from the crashed ship. What are you guys up to?

Grif: We're deciding whether or not to kill you and wipe out your team forever.

Caboose: Ah. Sounds tough.

Grif: We're kind of splittin' the decision right now.

Caboose: Do I get a vote?

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)

Simmons: And what are you workin' on?

Caboose: Still not telling you!

Slade: (in his mind) How's that thing with Epsilon been going, anyway?

Tex: (in Slade's mind) Well, he hasn't started anymore fires. So, there's that at least.

Rho: (in Slade's mind) Plus, I still don't get how he plans to transfer Church to Tex's old body. Hey, why haven't you tried repossessing that thing, anyway?

Tex: (in Slade's mind) The thing's damaged beyond repair! Remember?

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's computers. We wiped them out.

Sarge: We did?

Simmons: Yeah, don't you remember?

Sarge: Ohhh, right.

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, as a result.

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.

Slade: I'm gonna go set the Warthog ablaze so you don't get anymore Transformer ideas. (heads off) Last thing we need is another incident like back in Blood Gulch with the Warthog becoming Megatron or some shit!

(SEASON 7 HAS STARTED, BABY! GET READY FOR MORE LAUGHS AND ACTION!)