Incorrect Team Chaar

Oil Slick: Well, it exploded, so I guess we hit something important.

Strika: Rule number one is don’t touch anything. Rule number two is don’t touch anything. Anyone want to hazard a guess on rule number three?

Cyclonus: Just once I want to put the blade of my sword under a pretty boy’s chin and tilt their head up so I can see both fear and arousal in their eyes, is that too much to ask?

Strika at Cyclonus: You only own, like, two things, and one of them’s a sword.

Blackout: I wonder what happened here. Spittor: Well, judging by the body bags …

Ratchet: Traitor! How could you? Oil Slick: Wait, you’re surprised? You have heard of me, right?

Blackout: Whoops. Strika: Whoops? Whoops? This is not a “Whoops” situation. We are far past whoops. “Whoops” is a distant speck in the rear view mirror. We are solidly in “Oh fuck” territory, and I expect you to act like it

Cyclonus: So, did you bring Blackout? Spittor: Uh, no, but I brought the next best thing. Oil Slick: Hey. Cyclonus: Oil Slick. You brought Oil Slick. The next best thing would be General Strika. Oil Slick: Normally, I would be offended, but Strika is freakishly strong.

Strika: Can you pick up reinforcements from base? Cyclonus: Can I pick any soldier I want? Strika: No, get Oil Slick. Cyclonus: But I don't want him.

Strika: What makes you all smile? Blackout: Friends and Family. Spittor: Snacks. Oil Slick: Victory and success. Cyclonus: Face muscles. Strika: ...

Cyclonus: Hey, do you know the password to Oil Slick’s computer? Spittor: Fuck you, Cyclonus. Spittor: Hey!! Spittor: No, you misunderstood, the password is "fuckyoucyclonus". Cyclonus: Oh, no numbers? Not very safe.

Strika: Today is the day we reveal to the whole world the existence of the "League of Villainous Evildoers Maniacally United For Frightening Investments in Naughtiness! Oil Slick: You want us to be called L.O.V.E.M.U.F.F.I.N.?

Strika: I hate mechs Lugnut: I'm a mech Strika: Did I stutter?

Strika: What am I paying you for? Cyclonus: You’re not. Actually, on that subject …

Spittor: You said we were friends. Oil Slick: I – I was being sarcastic. I was obviously being sarcastic. Spittor: Too late – you can’t take it back now.