Conversation

*deep inside an unmarked bunker in Maclean, Virginia*

MIB1: "It's over."

MIB2: "What? Are you fucking sure?"

MIB1: "No, but they're going back to the front."

MIB2: "Shit fuck shit fuck fuck fuck; how many casualties?"

MIB1: "A dozen, at best."

MIB2: "Fuck. I am so fucking irate right now; alright, bring me the schematics for the hockey helmet that injects fish poison into the target's scalp again."