At the desert, Sarge and Grif walk away from the group.

Sarge: Hmm.

Grif: Hey Sarge, what's wrong?

Sarge: I don't like this, Grif.

Grif: What, the vision?

Tucker is talking with Caboose and Slade from a distance.

Tucker: It's a waterfall, it's literally impossible to forget! Like girlfriend dick!

Slade: Will you shut up already?!

Sarge: Yeah. I've never been what you'd call a "new age" kinda guy.

Grif: You don't say.

Sarge: But this bowling ball seems to be on a heck of a roll! Pun intended. What with the flying and the laser shooting and all.

Grif: And he can lift stuff without arms. That's pretty cool.

Sarge: That too. What if there's something to this whole vision thing? We need to call Simmons. Find out if he's seen anything out of the ordinary.

Grif: How? Our long range radio here got destroyed, and we don't have enough signal power in the jeeps to reach him.

Sarge: I think I have an idea how to fix that.

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

At Valhalla, Simmons is currently kneeling next to South, as she had her torso armor off and Simmons was keeping pressure on her wound.

Simmons: Just keep breathing, South. Don't move unless you absolutely have to.

South: (moans in pain) What about your medic guy?

Simmons: He's unconscious. He'll wake up soon.... I hope.

Doc then groans as he sits up, holding his head.

Doc: Hh, mm. Ow my head. Oh.

Simmons: Doc, you're alive. Good.

Doc: Yeah, no thanks to you. Why'd you hit me?

Simmons: I didn't hit you, they did. (points at the Meta and Wash)

Doc: Jerks. Who're they?

Simmons: Help her first and I'll explain.

Doc then sees the condition South is in.

Doc: Oh, shoot! Are you okay, Miss....

South: I'm South. And no, I'm clearly not okay! I was fucking shot, jackass.....

Doc: Okay, okay, take it easy.

Doc starts scanning South's bullet wound.

Doc: So who are these guys?

Simmons: The dark one's Washington. He's a Freelancer.

Doc: Great. 'Cause those guys are always such a blast to hang around with.

South: I'm a Freelancer too, pal. But just for the record, I'm not with them.

Simmons: The big one, we call the Meta.

Doc: But rumor had it those guys were disbanded. Everyone went to jail.

Simmons: Yeah, well I guess they got paroled.

Wash: You three, quiet.

The Meta growls as his armor glitches.

Wash: Then you need to stop trying to use all of them. You just don't have the resources anymore.

Simmons: Meta killed a bunch of other Freelancers. Took their equipment.

Doc: Like the invisibility?

Simmons: Yeah, and the shield and the thing that slows down time. He also stole their A.I. fragments, but those all got wiped out. Now something seems, I don't know, wrong with him.

Doc: An A.I. fragment? That I remember. Hey Simmons, remember that A.I. I had for a while? That thing was crazy.

The Meta growls and approaches Doc.

Doc: Yikes!

Wash: Halt. Meta, stop!

Doc: Wyaa! Simmons, help me!

Wash: You, what did you just say?

Doc: Tht- tht- tht- tht tht, that I had one of your A.I. units?

The Meta grunts.

Wash: Stand down. You said had. Where is it now?

Doc: Gone.

Wash: Which one?

Doc: Uh, uh ub, the mean one.

Wash: Its' name. Did you know its' name?

Doc: Uh, O'Malley. I mean uh, Omega.

Wash: Well that one's been accounted for.

Doc: I-I only had it for a short time.

Wash: Well then good. You know what to look for. I need a complete scan of my friend here. And I would recommend you don't use any needles. He hates needles, and we wouldn't wanna make him angry, now would we?

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

Back at the desert, Sarge, Grif, Slade, and Kan are at the jeep, and Epsilon is at the top of the radio antenna.

Sarge: Alright let's try this. You ready antenna ball?

Epsilon: I told you not to call me that! And hurry it up. This metal rod isn't exactly in a comfortable place.

Grif: Hey, do you wanna find out about your vision or don't ya?

Slade: Hey, look on the bright side! You get to look down on us from your 'high and mighty' throne!

Kan: Ha!

Epsilon: Fuck you, dickheads!

Sarge: Come in Valhalla Outpost Number One. Come in! Red Base, do you read me? Come in! Give me some more power, shotput.

Simmons: (over radio) Uh, Sarge? Yeah, hi.

Sarge: Who is this, identify yourself.

Simmons: (over radio) It's me, Simmons. Sorry Sir.

Sarge: How is everything going there, Simmons?

Simmons: (over radio) Here? Uh, fine I guess. Everything's good. How 'bout you guys?

Sarge: Mission is complete. We're preparing to head out soon.

Simmons: (over radio) What was that? Sorry, some static here. This radio's a little messed up. Been a bit rainier here.

Sarge: I said, we're comin' back soon.

Simmons: (over radio) Oh, that's great. Hey, when do you think that'll be, exactly.

Sarge: Hard to say, Simmons. We'll let you know.

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

Simmons is at the radio with a gun to his head.

Simmons: Okay Sarge, sounds good.

Sarge: (over radio) Over and out.

Wash: Okay good. Now get back over there.

Simmons walks back to Doc, as he was wrapping bandages around South's wound.

Doc: That was your Sergeant?

Simmons: Yeah.

Doc: You think he'll come help us?

Simmons: No, I couldn't say anything to him. If they come, they'll be walking sraight into a trap.

South: They got Slade and Kan with them. I think they'll be able to manage.....

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

Back at the desert, Slade pulls Epsilon off the antenna.

Grif: Thanks for the help.

Epsilon: Yeah, whatever. I'm not gonna fly straight for a week now.

Grif: Simmons sounded good. I guess he's got everything under control.

Sarge: Donut and Lopez are dead and someone has taken Simmons and South prisoner.

Slade: WHAT?!

Grif: What? Everything sounded fine to me.

Sarge: Think about it. How do you answer the radio at our base?

Grif: Thank you for calling Red Base, this is Private Grif, how may I assist you today?

Sarge: And we've drilled that since day one! Simmons answered 'Hi.' That was my first clue!

Grif: So maybe he's just ups-

Sarge: He also said the radio was in disrepair. When has Lopez ever let something go without the proper maintenance?

Grif: Never.

Sarge: And look at the time.

Grif: Can't, clock's broken.

Sarge: It's 17:30. And everybody knows that 17:30 is...

Grif: Donut's daily wine and cheese hour!

Sarge: I didn't hear any chinkling glasses. Did you?

Grif: You're right.

Sarge: He also mentioned that the weather was rainier. And as we all know, Mt. Rainier is the biggest landmass in the state of... Washington.

Grif: We do? Uh uh- I mean we do!

Sarge: How many Washingtons do we know?

Grif: Did he mean, Agent Washington?

Slade: Son of a bitch....

Sarge: And who's the biggest mass we know, associated with Washington?

Grif: The Meta!

Sarge: So the Meta and Washington have teamed up to kill Donut and Lopez, and now they're holding Simmons, South, and Doc prisoner.

Grif: We have to help 'em. Wait, Doc? Ha- how do you know he's there?

Sarge: Please, Grif, it's so obvious. I don't wanna insult your intelligence by explaining every little detail.

Grif: Oh, uh, wuh okay.

Slade: I'm gonna kill them both! WITH MY BARE HANDS!

Sarge: Easy, son. You'll get your chance! Come on- we're going to Valhalla. It's time for a rescue mission!

Grif: Rescue mission? How the hell are we supposed to fight Wash and the Meta?

Slade clears his throat pointedly as he thumbs at himself and Kan.

Grif: Oh, right. Never mind.

The Reds and Kan all then hop in the Warthog.

Sarge: Don't worry I have a plan. How good are the seatbelts in this new jeep?

Grif: Good, I guess.

Epsilon sees them driving off.

Epsilon: Valhalla, huh?

Epsilon starts following the jeep at a distance.

Grif: Wait, why?