Relocated: Part One

Red vs. Blue: Relocated Part One finds Grif, Simmons, and Sarge adjusting to life at the new base.

Transcript
(Titles roll)

Grif: I'm tellin' you, this is a whole new world for us. New bases, new armor; it's a fresh start.

Simmons: Then, why the fuck are we having the same conversations?

Grif: Just think, you know how people say, "If I knew then what I knew now?" Well, that person is you, and you already know it. And the "then" is right now.

Simmons: What?

Grif: Don't you regret anything from our last assignment? Like all your mistakes?

Simmons: I didn't make mistakes, you made mistakes.

Grif: Exactly. You set too high of a bar, and that made it harder for the rest of us.

Simmons: There is no "rest of us," there's just you, and you suck. The bar has nothing to do with it. If the bar was set any lower, you'd just hit your fucking head on it. Or accidentally eat it.

Grif: You need to loosen up. We got a good thing going here. I mean, this is an easy gig. We need to make the most of it. You should question authority every now-and-then.

Simmons: (studders) I question authority.

Grif: Asking Sarge, "Can we have more work?" is not questioning authority.

Simmons: Well, Grif, technically that is a question.

Grif: Stop it.

Simmons: Besides, all you ever do is waste time.

Grif: Waste time? I make time. Every second Sarge spends arguing with me is every second I don't have to do something stupid like clean our guns or whatever it is he's ever making you do.

Simmons: You dumbass! We have to maintain our equipment. Otherwise...

(A small explosion occurs under the warthog that Sarge is working on)

Sarge: (grunts) Son of a bitch!

Grif: See? That should keep him busy for at least...

Sarge: Simmons! Grif! Front and center!

Grif: Dammit.

Simmons: Nice plan, jackass. Clearly, it's working flawlessly.

Sarge: Hustle up, idiots!

(Camera moves to blue base, where Caboose is involved in an unknown activity)

(Camera returns to red base)

Sarge: Men, we've got a situation on our hands here.

Grif: Sarge, why do you always call us over when you want to talk to us?

Sarge: What? You want me to write you a letter?

Grif: No. I mean there's two of us. Wouldn't it be more efficient for you to come to us? Instead, we always have to...

Sarge: Shut up, Grif.

Grif: See, I just bought us ten more seconds before he can give us something to do.

Sarge: Grif, can it!

Grif: Five more seconds.

Simmons: Shut up!

Grif: Two more.

Sarge: We've got a problem, men. I'm trying to upgrade the warthog's weapons system.

Simmons: The weapons system?

Sarge: Yes, as you'll recall, on our last mission, we encountered that magnetic pulse thingy. So, I thought we could upgrade the warthog to use that technology for a fancy new gun.

Simmons: You mean the pulse that knocked out our car and made it stall? That technology?

Sarge: Yes.

Simmons: You want to add that to the car and activate it on a regular basis?

Sarge: Mhm.

Simmons: Specifically in battle?

Sarge: Bingo-bango.

Simmons: And you're sure that's a good idea.

Sarge: Why wouldn't it be?

Grif: Don't listen to him, sir. I think it's brilliant. The enemy'll never see it coming.

Simmons: That's because it won't be coming! It'll be shutting down every time we fire our primary weapon!

Grif: Like I said, brilliant.

Sarge: The problem is that we still don't have the power online in the base.

Simmons: Right.

Sarge: So, I'm forced to use only my hand tools. I can't get anything done like this.

Simmons: You want us to get the generators running so that you can use your power tools?

Sarge: No! So I can use the radio to call Lopez. Have him come do it for me. Grif: Nice. Wait, our radios work.

Simmons: Not our helmet radios, dumbass. The long-range ones. The people who were here before us disabled them all.

Sarge: It seems to me, the blue base is online. We need to get someone over there to see how they did it. Simmons, it'll be you.

Simmons: Why me?

Sarge: I don't think Grif could possibly figure out how electricity works. I'm not even certain he knows what it is.

Grif: The man's right. I have no idea.

Simmons: (sighs) Whatever.

Grif: No, seriously, I have no idea. I always thought it was some kind of invisible magic.

Simmons: Shut up.

(Simmons leaves)

Sarge. Oh, and see if you can figure out what they've been up to over there. They've been pretty quite lately.

Simmons: Fine.

Grif: Okay, great. Now that he's gone, how about we enjoy some "us time." Kick back, make some margaritas.

Sarge: Grif, I need you up on top of the base. See if you can figure out why ours isn't firing that blue bolt-a-ma-jiggy

Grif: (gulps) You mean, up there by that airlift and the flag?

Sarge: No, I mean on top.

(Credits roll)

Grif: Um, do we have a ladder?

Simmons: Oh, sure, an eight-hundred-foot ladder? Of course not, you idiot! Now get to shimmyin'.