Red vs Blue: Heavy 'META'L

And Don't Call Me Shirley

At Valhalla, Wash and the Meta look at Doc and the piece of wall he's stuck in, upright in the field.

Washington: Come on, can't you get him out of there? He's just stuck in a few rocks.

The Meta just growls and crosses his arms.

Washington: Why can't anything ever be easy? Doc, I want you to tell me everything you know about the Reds and Blues.

Doc: You know more than me, I just got here.

Washington: Hit him.

The Meta hits Doc with his Brute Shot.

Doc: Ow!

Washington: You worked with them before. Do they have any hideouts, anywhere they go when they're in trouble?

Doc: I don't know.

Washington: Hit him again.

The Meta hits Doc again.

Doc: Ow!

Washington: Did Simmons say where Cal, Sarge and Grif were? You can either answer me, or I can have the Meta beat it out of you. Or, I can beat it out of you. I think I've earned it.

Doc: Man, you guys are really awful at the Good Cop/Bad Cop thing. You're like, Bad Cop and Even Worse Cop.

Washington: Tell you what Meta, let's just shoot him in the chest, see if we can pull the audio logs out of his helmet.

Doc: Uh-ah- he said something about a distress call!

Washington: Hit him again.

The Meta levels his weapon to do so again.

Doc: And sand! H-he mentioned sand!

Washington: Sand...

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At the desert, the Reds are spying on Epsilon and Caboose from nearby.

Epsilon: (to Caboose) Alright, well, let's go then. I actually thought it would take longer to convince you. Come on. I wanna get to the facility before nightfall.

Sarge: Facility, eh? I knew the Blues were up to somethin'. Come on men, let's get after those Blues! Sounds like this is the big opportunity we've been waitin' for.

Grif: You mean our opportunity to find a place to hole up until this all blows over?

Simmons: Some place that isn't a desert?

Sarge: No! A place to finally restore the Blues to Command's database. Get yer typing fingers ready Simmons!

Simmons: (sigh) Okay, I'll bring my carpal tunnel braces.

Sarge: If we're going to follow them we'll need a vehicle.

Grif: Well I'm sure we can grab another one from the camp down there.

Simmons: Why do we need a vehicle, the Blues are walking. I'm sure we can keep up with them on foot.

Grif: On foot?!

Sarge: Uh, Simmons? We're the Reds. We don't walkanywhere. We travel as the good Lord intended: in the largest possible vehicle with the maximum horsepower allowed by local law enforcement. And if there's no cars available, we find the biggest, nastiest, meanest, land animal we possibly can, beat the crap out of it, and saddle that puppy up.