Tabloid: Trigger! Hey, it’s been a while! Tabloid: I had a feeling that you were still alive! Huxian: Huh? One of the 444 pilots. Huxian: What’s he doing here? Is he lost? Tabloid: Negative. Even criminals get to fly around here! High Roller: Anyone up for some poker tonight? Bandog: Spare 7, shut up. David North:>Bandog: This is Bandog. Bandog: I’m handling surveillance.
Commander McKinsey: Bandog? Bandog: [Sigh] Commander. Commander McKinsey: Make sure support follows my orders to the letter. Commander McKinsey: That’s it. Bandog: Useless son of a bitch… Bandog: [Sigh] Bandog: Okay. Bandog: LRSSG aircraft squadron, listen up. [Tape Recorder Being Prepped] Count:>Wiseman:>[Foghorn Blaring] Wiseman:>Count:>Count:>Wiseman:>Count:>Wiseman:>Wiseman:>Wiseman:>Count:>[Foghorn Blaring] Count:>Wiseman:>[Tape Recorder Ejecting] Lanza: Woah! Huxian: What’s up with the commander? Lanza: Seriously? Was it Wiseman who gave it to Count? Jaeger: Can’t say I blame him. Lanza: I think I understand the boss’s style. Jaeger: Yeah. Lanza: It’s a B̢̦͇͓̻ͮ̏͐͂ͭ͆̚ͅI̻͖ͪ͌̾̾ͦG̫͇̐͋ͬ̌̀ͤ̈́ ̡̃̑̎ͯ̅͌M̸͉͒̿̆͂̒A̜͓͍̓ͥ́ͪ̃ͯZͨ̏ͫ̌̾ͥ̎́Ḙ̸̼͓̼̤̰! Jaeger: Uhh… Jaeger: Y e e a a h . . . Jaeger: Let’s go give him some help! Lanza: Yeah-haah! Bandog: What the hell are you doing!? Bandog: Where the hell do you think you’re going!? [Door Closes] Bandog: Assholes! Bandog: Fine. Bandog: North. David North: Sir? Bandog: Call Count. David North: That’s uh… [audible hesitation] Bandog: Do it. David North: Well, okay. [Skype Call Sound] [Skype Connect Sound] Count:>David: David North here. Do you hear me? Count:>David:>Count:>Count:>Bandog: That you, Count? Bandog: Haha, hey, fraudster! Count:>Bandog: Hahah. You’re still alive, you lucky son of a bitch. Count:>Bandog: Your tongue’s giving away your true identity! Count:>Bandog: You’re not a commander. You were convicted of fraud. Count:>Bandog: Like it or not, you’ll have a nice time in solitary. Bandog: Enjoy yourself in your cell after this, Count. Count:>[Skype Hangup Sound] Tabloid: [Entertained Chuckle]
Bandog: [Satisfied Chuckle] High Roller: Count’s gonna survive? Anyone wanna bet on it? Tabloid: Tch-yeah. He’s always been all talk, no action. High Roller: It’s a bet. Bandog: Okay! Bandog: The order is simple: Bandog: Stop Count, kill the commander,
and shoot down every last son of a bitch! Strider Squadron, takeoff prep complete! Go get ’em, dumbass!