"We are most assuredly not," Yankee One assured. "Although we did sustain some, er, dreadful losses."

"I'll probably never find where I stashed my first pack of treasures," Yankee Four mourned. "It's lost forever." He was interrupted by a sharp nudge from Yankee One. "Just like Yankee Two, Yankee Three, and Yankees Five through Twelve." he added sheepishly.

"Anyway, we have spent the last few hours attempting to explore this dreadful place, but alas, it seems as though we have been making a circle. It's a dreadful place, really-…"

"You already said that," Assassin Z-3 noted.

"Oh, did I? Oh, bother. I do believe that this dreadful place is starting to go to my head. Did I mention that this dreadful place is really starting to go to my head? Dreadful, isn't it?"

Then Z-3 proved that Replicas could cry.

--

Meanwhile, Zulu One was busy with what he did best: accomplishing little or nothing whatsoever. Emboldened by his improbable victory over the shadow creatures, he sent his men out to recon the deserted maintenance corridors. "If you encounter any enemy units, pin them down with the light machine gun, and then flank them with rifle fire." he declared.

"Uh, sir? We don't have a light machine gun." Zulu Four said.

"We don't? Since when?"

"Since the inception of the Replica Battalion, sir."

"Damn. Then where's our gajoopin' logistics officer?"

"Sir, we don't have a "gajoopin'" logistics officer, either."

"Oh, gajoop!"

"Sir? What exactly is 'gajoop' supposed to mean?"

"It means that if you don't stop asking gajoopin' questions, Zulu Four, I am going to rip your gajoopin' feet off and shove them into your gajoopin' mind!"

"Sir, that's not even physically possi-…"

"Right, then!" Zulu One said. "Back to what I was saying. We'll split into two groups: Fireteam Apple and Fireteam…uh, Fireteam…" He racked his brain for a name. He saw an empty box for a television set made by Burptronics. "Fireteam Burptronics!"

Zulu Seven had also noticed the cardboard box, and before Zulu One had finished his proclamation, he had already darted up to the packaging and began to shred it into tiny bits.

"Zulu Seven!" Zulu One cried, aghast. "What…the…hell?"

Zulu Seven could not be dissuaded. One by one, he shoved the packaging pieces into his mouth and chewed on them, savoring the cheesy, salty taste. It mattered not what food he was actually eating, or even if it was food at all…for he would taste Cheezee Pooz forever more.

CHEEZEE POOZ FOREVER MORE

CHEEZEE POOZ FOREVER MORE

CHEEZEE POOZ FOREVER MORE

"CHEEZEE POOZ FOHEFFAH MOHF!" Zulu Seven exclaimed, his mouth still filled with cardboard.

The squad fell silent, contemplating this new development.