Armonia. A train is seen passing by.
ARMONIA, CAPITAL CITY OF CHORUS, DOWNTOWN
Cut to Grif shuffling past a rebel and a fed
Rebel: Good morning, Captain Grif.
Grif: Hey.
Fed: Good morning, Captain Grif!
Grif: Yeah.
Matthews: Oh. Oh! Captain Grif!
Grif stops in front of Matthews
Grif: (sighs) Yes, Matthews?
Matthews: Hey! Uh, uh, I just wanted to say, uh, thanks again for everything you and the other Reds and Blues did for us. If you guys hadn't shut down that radio jammer, we'd be dead!
Grif: *sarcastically* Gosh Matthews, I really appreciate that! Almost as much as I did the other fifty-six times you thanked me!
Matthews: Oh, good. I was worried it would might start to come off as annoying.
Grif: It does, that was sarcasm.
Matthews: Just gonna repress that!
Grif: What?
Matthews: Oh, Captain Grif! Uh, good to see you. I wanted to thank you for-
Grif: *grunts* Look, do you know where Kimball is? I need to talk to her.
Matthews: Kimball? Uh, I'm pretty sure I saw her in the armory a little while ago.
Grif: Great, thanks.
Grif leaves.
Matthews: ...Do you need an escort?
Grif: *offscreen* NO!
Cut to the armory, where Simmons is seen giving a line of Feds and Rebels weapons. Lopez is seen inside the armory garage.
Simmons: Alright, explain to me again, why do you need a .50 caliber chaingun?
Gunman Fed: ...Because I'm a gunman.
Simmons: Yeah, yeah, I know, I get that. You keep saying that. I mean, why do you need it right now?
Rebel 1: Hey G-man, hurry up!
Gunman Fed: Well, I mean, how else are people gonna know what I do around here?
Simmons: You're a soldier. Everyone's a soldier! You shoot at people, who shoot at you, until one of you dies from all the shooting!
Gunman Fed: Yeah, but that's what I'm sayin'. Without my big gun, I just look like all the regular soldiers.
Simmons: No you don't! You've got white armor and red stripes!
Donut suddenly pops up next to Simmons.
Donut: Ugh, and they're just awful. I'm thinking we go bold. Maybe red armor with white stripes!
Gunman Fed: Huh?
Simmons: *sighs* Donut, just because you're in charge of uniforms, doesn't mean you get to redecorate the entire army. Besides, that'll completely ruin his camouflage.
Donut: What camouflage?
the line of soldiers.
Simmons: Huh. Good point. How the hell have you not been shot yet?
Gunman Fed: What?
Fed Soldier: It's because the New Republic can't aim for shit.
Rebel Soldier: Wanna say that to my face, punk?
Simmons: Hey, cut it out! The armory is no place for violence. Now calm down, or I'm not gonna give you a gun.
Rebel Soldier: *offscreen* He started it.
Fed Soldier: *groans*
Cut to Grif striding up to Simmons and Donut.
Grif: Outta my way. Captain on deck. Official officer business.
Grif stops in front of Simmons
Simmons: Grif, what do you want? Can't you see we're busy?
Grif: Where's Kimball?
Simmons: I don't know. Where were you during training this morning?
Grif: Where do you guys train again?
Simmons: *exasperatedly* In the training room.
Grif: Oh, right, yeah. Literally anywhere but there.
Donut: Well I think I heard Miss Kimball was inspecting the troops over there a little while ago.
Grif: Aw man. Really?
Lopez: ¡Oye! *Hey!*
Grif, Simmons, and Donut turn towards Lopez.
Lopez: ¡Mientras estás ahí, dígale a Jensen que deje de conducir los coches que ella arregla! Conduce como una adolescente y una abuela que fueron combinadas de alguna forma, y que también eran ciegas. *While you're there, tell Jensen to stop driving cars that she fixes! She drives like a teenager and a grandmother who were somehow combined, and were also blind.*
Grif: Lopez? I don't speak Spanish. I have never spoken Spanish.
Simmons: Yeah, get with the times and just assimilate.
Lopez: Presco. Voy a cortarle los frenos a tu próximo Warthog. *Cool. I'm cutting the brakes on your next Warthog.*
Grif: See ya', dickheads.
Gunman Fed, Simmons, and Donut temporarily turn towards Grif as he walks away. Gunman Fed then turns back to Simmons and Donut.
Gunman Fed: Do you really think my stripes are awful?
Cut to the training room, where the lieutenants are firing at cones.
PA Voice: ... Live-fire training in progress.
Three cones are knocked down, while the final shot misses the last cone.
Washington: Lieutenant Palomo!
Palomo: Yes, Agent Washington, sir?
Washington: Explain to me how, in light of your recent promotion, you've somehow managed to become worse at target practice?!
Palomo: *hurriedly* Uh, because the newly-added pressure of my rank makes me second-guess my actions more frequently in hopes I won't let down my fellow peers.
Washington: Well I don't-! Oh. Um, I mean, that's... understandable, Lieutenant.
Palomo: Also, I've been trying to make a smiley face for like, nine minutes.
Cut to a crudely made "smiley face" made out of bullet holes.
Palomo: Nailed it.
Cut to Grif walking in.
Grif walking in.
Grif: Wash!
Washington: (sighs) Now what...
Grif: Where's Kimball?
Washington: (sarcastic) Oh! Captain Grif. How nice of you to join us. We missed you at practice this morning.
Grif: (chuckles) Yeah. That's probably because I wasn't there.
Washington: So you weren't. Which is why everyone is going to give me three laps around the training facility.
All four lieutenants turn to him.
Palomo: together Aww!
Jensen: *together* What the-?!
Bitters: *together* That's not fair!
Smith: *together* Yes sir!
Washington: Get moving.
Grif turns to Washington.
Grif: *shocked* You're punishing them?
Washington: Remedial training. Disciplining a group for the actions of a single soldier leads to social pressures that typically result in the easy correction of an undesirable behavior. Classic military strategy.
Cut to the four lieutenants running.
Bitters: *angrily* Thanks a lot, fuckface!
Washington: So. Are you ready to begin today's training?
Grif: Uhh.. No?
Washington: All right then. Let's make it four laps!
Smith: Yes sir!
The other three lieutenants groan in protest.
Jensen: I'm gonna have an asthma attack!
Washington: How're you feeling now?
Grif: I feel like this military's fucking weird.
Washington: FIVE LAPS!
Smith: Yes sir!
The other three groan again.
Grif: Man! This is the best punishment ever!
Washington: What do you need Kimball for, anyways? She's in the middle of a meeting with Doyle.
Grif: So, she's in the war room?
Washington: I- Wait wait wait wait wait. No. You're not going anywhere until-
Grif: *as he walks off* Sorry dude, gotta go, uh, just punish the rebels some more. I'm sure I'll learn my lesson.
Washington: *sighs* Goddamn it.
The four lieutenants return.
Smith: Whew. We sure showed him.
Bitters and Jensen wheeze. Palomo collapses to the ground as Washington turns towards them. Cut to the war room, where Kimball and Doyle are seen.
Kimball: I don't care if your men prefer it, the fact to the matter is we are going to run out of ammunition faster.
Doyle: But you're not taking the statistical advantage into account! Yes, the standard issue Assault Rifle has a fire rate of fifteen rounds per second, but if those rounds aren't being fired at the enemy, then that means we have fifteen chances to kill the enemy, every time we pull the trigger!
Kimball: Without our mercenaries bringing in supplies, we need to make every bullet count.
Doyle: Are you doubting my soldiers' skill in the battlefield?
Kimball: I am doubting so much more than that.
Doyle: *sighs* Ms. Kimball, it has been over a month since we began this truce, and there has yet to be a single day where you have not tested its strength.
Kimball: Well, that's probably because I don't like you!
Grif: Hey!
Cuts to Grif
Grif: We've got a problem!
Doyle: (bitterly) Is it tan with a blue visor?
Grif: Now, I'm what most people consider a hero, like a firefighter, or the guy who invented the microwave, or, uh, the Oreo dude.
Kimball: ... Okay?
Grif: So what I want to know, is why a hero, like myself, is not allowed to have second helpings in the mess hall!
Doyle: Umm...because we're low on food.
Kimball: Oh, so you have the common sense to ration our meals, but not our ammo?
Doyle: That is hardly relev-
Kimball: *interrupting, agitated* Hardly relevant?!
Grif: Hey!
The two leaders turn to him.
Grif: I know you guys are having a hard time playing nice, but there are bigger things at stake right now.
Kimball: Get out.
Grif: Like steak, for instance.
Kimball: Get. Out.
Grif: We need bigger ones.
Kimball: *annoyed* Grif! Leave! Now.
Grif: *awkwardly* ... So, are we just going to put a pin in this, or-
Kimball: Oh my god, will someone just put him on dish duty for the rest of the day?
Grif: What?
Rebel Soldier: Come on, sir. Let's go.
Grif is escorted away by the Rebel soldier.
Grif: *offscreen* This is some bullshit!
Kimball: Can we just talk about something else for a minute?
Doyle: Well, the reason I originally came to speak with you was to inform you of the status our men's most recent assault.
Kimball: *turning to Doyle* Wait, they radio'ed in? What happened?
Doyle: Well...
Cut to Charon Research Complex 2C, where a bunch of dead corpses of space pirates on the ground that was slaughtered by Tucker and his group.
Sarge: damn, talk about you took it hardcore..
Tucker: I was under it and I have seen things that changed while we were out in space..
Sarge: so do you want my tell me what exactly I saw..
Tucker: fine let me just tell you what happened when I was gone.. I attended a hero school called unity Academy... And I heard about another hero School in Japan called Union.. trust me they aren't nice guys they're nothing more than a bunch of fake Heroes that are corrupted...
Sarge: tell me more about this corrupted Union hero School...
Tucker: trust me they treat the powerless like trashed and the powerful like a bunch of arrogant douches..
Sarge: my God.. and a bunch of discriminate Heroes call themselves Heroes.. but they look down on the weak what a bunch of scumbags...
Tucker: anyway when we're done with our mission.. I signed all of you to go to unity Academy.
Sarge: I lost for words, for you actually signing us to go to unity academy...
Tucker: and I said when we're done with our mission here.
Sarge: good take one thing at a time..
Carolina along with epsilon came along to check up on them.
Church: *suddenly materializing* Oh for god's sakes. Please don't.
Sarge: *grunts* Square.
Carolina: Come on. Let's get this place sorted out. Intel says they were keeping some Freelancer equipment here.
Church: Right. Sarge, why don't you go check on the Feds. Tucker, are you and the girls down to handle the Rebels?
Tucker: Yeah, yeah.
The two head off.
Church: In all the years we spent in the canyon, when the hell did he learn to dance?
Carolina: *turning behind her* I've got bigger questions on my mind right now.
Church: *turns around as well* Yeah? Like what?
Cut to a mysterious figure in the distance.
Carolina: Like what else was Charon studying out here?