Fade inside a room where Caboose is seen standing in front of F.I.L.S.S.

F.I.L.S.S: Alarm. Incoming recovery beacon. Level Zero. Alarm. Incoming recovery beacon.

Caboose: Oh no!

F.I.L.S.S: Level Zero.

Caboose rushes out of the room. Cut to Doc driving Wash and the Meta across a snowy field, perfectly serene except for Church's apparently lifeless body.

Washington: There he is. Something doesn't seem right here. Stop the car.

Doc: Stop?

Washington: I don't like this. How did he get hurt, why isn't anyone helping him?

Meta: (snarls)

Washington: You're right, this is a trap. Those walls there, perfect for a sniper. We walk in to where he's hurt and suddenly, we're boxed in, nowhere to go.

Doc: You think the Reds are tryin' to ambush us?

Washington: The Reds? Hahaha! No. This is an actual military tactic. We drilled it all the time in training. The only one who could do it would be Minne, but he's not the same anymore. So, whoever set this up is a Freelancer.

Doc: Yeah, but if a Freelancer set this up, wouldn't they know that you guys were Freelancers, and that you would recognize this as soon as you saw it?

Washington: What? Nooo, you're overthinking it. That's just-

10 landmines begin to light up in a perfect circle around them.

Washington: Oh, son of a bitch.

Doc: (sigh) Told you so.

The Warthog explodes. Cut to Caboose approaching the Reds; undoubtedly to tell them his complete misunderstanding of what's going on.

Caboose: Sargeant! Sargeant!

Sarge: What do you want, Blue?

Caboose: I need your help.

Ash is in between the two.

Simmons: Our help?

Caboose: Yes, Church is hurt, they must have gotten to him and Tex.

Grif: They got Tex? Good, that just means she won't be able to beat the hell out of us any more.

Caboose: No we have to rescue them.

"Rescue them? That seems really dangerous, and I like it." Ash says. "But none of us wanted to go with them, they're on their own."

"But they'll die!" Caboose cries out. He looks over to Sarge. "Sargeant, please."

Grif: Uh hey dude, I don't know if you've picked up on this yet, but if you wanna convince Sarge to do anything, I don't think the best argument is "The Blues might die if we don't."

Sarge: Cowboy up Caboose, I'm comin' with you.

"What?" Grif asks.

Sarge looks up at Grif. "I said, I'm helping him."

Grif: Who, the blue guy? Why on Earth would you ever help a Blue for no reason?

Sarge: We need some weapons. How'd your equipment test go, Simmons?

Simmons: About as well as you would expect.

Sarge: Heuh, that's too bad.

Grif: Well I'm not going, and you can't make me. You quit, remember? I don't take orders from you any more, and besides, this whole command structure thing was bullshit anyway. We all know that now.

Sarge: I'm not tellin' you ta go. I'm not even askin'.

Grif: You're not?

"Huh?" Ash is confused.

Sarge: Nope. I'm goin'. That's it. You wanna come, come on. But I don't expect you to. Simmons will probably tell you that statistically, some of us will probably die.

Simmons: All of us.

Sarge: All of us will probably die. But that's not what's important. Let me ask you three a question: You ever wonder why we're here?

Grif: ...

Simmons: ...

Ash: ...

Grif: Um, it does seem to be one of life's great mysteries.

Sarge: No, I mean you! What are you doing here? You always act like you wanna quit, but hell, you could've left whenever you wanted. No one would have stopped ya. So why are you here? And you, Simmons.

Simmons: Me?

Sarge: You say you wanna be in charge. They would have given you your own squad a dozen times over. You know it, and I know it. But you're still, here. And Ash."

"Yes?" Ash asks.

"You always said you wanted to get your memories back and build the best weapons ever." Sarge starts. "You could've left the army and gone to search for clues about your past, or ask to be transferred to a high class R&D team. But you didn't, you're still here. And you Tucker. As much as I hate to admit it, you're actually good at being a soldier.

Tucker: I am?

Sarge: I know you like to make your rude comments, pretend like it all doesn't matter. But an entire alien race chose you to be their hero! So why are you here? And Caboose... Uuhhh, it's good to see you.

Caboose: Thanks. I'm really enjoying the speech so far.

Sarge: Maybe you're all here because this is the only place you fit in. Maybe you're here because you don't have anywhere else to go. Maybe you're all here, because deep down, you want to be here. The reason doesn't matter. What matters is that you're here! For all we know, Tex and Church are dead. That means we're the only ones who know what's happened; the only ones who can prevent them from covering it up. So the way I figure it, these Freelancer guys, wanna use us, take us away from our families, and send us all over the dag gum galaxy just to test if their agents are ready for the big fight? Well, I guess I'm interested in showing 'em, exactly what a big fight is all about. Time to clean the slate. So I'm not ordering you to go. I ain't even askin'. You do, what you gotta do Private Grif.

Grif: Hhh, I'll go get my car keys.

Ash reloads his DMR. "LET'S FUCKING DO THIS!"

Sarge: Ah, alright then. Let's move.

Simmons: I don't think a jeep will get us there soon enough. But I think I know what we can use.

They all file into a room

Simmons: This!

"I think I'm in love." Ash says.

"Who the hell is going to drive that?" Grif asks. Everyone looks to Grif. "Why is everyone looking at me?"