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Name's Michael Chan.
Served my country in Iraq as part of a Special Forces unit.
Real Black Ops ***.
After my tour I was offered a position at as Chief Tactical Officer of E.T. Affairs
at AREA 51.
But I had a little one-night stand with the head researcher there.
Problem was, I didn't know she was the General's daughter.
Now I work at Area 49 with my loser partner who's afraid of guns.
Hey, ***! I'm not a loser.
Says you. And I work with a brainy computer expert who secretly wants to do me.
You wish!
Just seeing if you're paying attention, sweetness.
[Intro Music]
[Intro Music]
[Intro Music]
[Intro Music]
[Intro Music]
[Intro Music]
[Intro Music]
[Phone beeps]
Oh, here we go. Agent Chan here.
Gentlemen.
Hello Allison.
What's up, sexy?
Right. I've got a live one for you here.
A 626 in the suburbs causing all sorts of mischief.
Uploading coordinates, now.
A 626.
So played out.
Hey Allison, what color *** are you wearing?
I beg your pardon?
Oh, do play along.
You really are quite the pig.
Oh, come on, you love it.
Fine, guess.
I'm sensing...lavendar?
Wrong. Try no *** at all. Allison out.
Oh damn, I think I have a ***.
You are going to take some getting used to.
What?
[car engine starts and peels away]
Sir did you call about the zombie?
Yes, I did. It's right over there.
I'm Special Agent Michael Chan and this is my partner Special Agent Miles Cooper.
M and M. Michael and Miles. Or C and C for Chan and Cooper. No I got it, C and C Music
Factory. Everybody dance now!
***, I will shoot you!
Rowwwwrrr!
Sir, is that the only zombie in the area?
Yes.
Who the hell's it eating?
Neighbor's kid, Jonathan. He's kind of slow.
That's *** up.
No, not slow. Slow as in can't run fast. He's fat. Plays video games all day.
You know young boys. Can't keep their hands of their Wii.
It's staring straight at us.
Don't worry, I got this. I'm just going to put it out of its...whoa, ***! Oh! Miles,
a little help!
I don't understand they're supposed to be stupid, slow, and weak.
Not unlike you right about now. Grab my gun, you idiot!
I hate guns. You know I don't do guns.
Grab my gun! Uh, God, brain breath. Oh! Wait, open your...ow, ***! Shoot it!
[gunshots]
Ow, son of a ***. You shot my ***!
I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
Man up and learn how to shoot, *** it.
Oh no.
Oh no, what?
It bit you.
It's just a scratch. Is that bad?
Um...
What, I'm not going to turn into a zombie am I?
No, you're...no...
Don't lie to me. I can smell a lie like a fart in a car.
Here, uh, eat this. It's for the pain.
Tag and bag this piece of ***. And help me up.
[crunching noises]
[crunching noises]
[crunching noises]
[crunching noises]
[crunching noises]
How you doing there, buddy?
Grunt!
[trauma team song]
[trauma team song]
Michael, I'm really sorry I shot you.
Well, less so now.