Every Robot we meet wearing a Gray uniform... they're gonna die.

My name is Adminstator of Food and Drink. PyroZombie and I'm putting together a special team, and I need me six mercenaries. six Teufort-American soldiers. Now, y'all might've heard rumors about the update happening soon. Well, we'll be leaving a little earlier. We're gonna be dropped into Mann co., dressed as REDs. And once we're in enemy territory, as a Jarate-slingin' guerrilla army, we're gonna be doin' one thing and one thing only... killin' Robots. Now, I don't know about y'all, but I sure as hell didn't come down from the ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ Thunder Mountains, cross five thousand miles of Capture point, fight my way through half of Hydro and jump out of a ♥♥♥♥♥♥' camper van to teach the Robots lessons in humanity. Robot ain't got no humanity. They're the foot soldiers of a gravel-hatin', brother-murderin' maniac and they need to be dee-stroyed. That's why any and every every ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ we find wearin' a gray uniform, they're gonna die. Now, I'm the direct descendant of the pyromaniac and president, Abraham Lincoln. That means I got a little pyro in me. And our battle plan will be that of a pyro's resistance. We will be cruel to the Robots, and through our cruelty they will know who we are. And they will find the evidence of our cruelty in the disassembled, dismantled, and D-DOSed bodies of their brothers we leave behind us. And the Robots won't not be able to help themselves but to imagine the cruelty their brothers endured at our fists, and our Mantreads, and the edge of our Ubersaw. And the Robots will be sickened by us, and the Robots will instant-message about us, and the Robots will fear us. And when the Robots charges their batteries at night and they're tortured by their processes for the evil they have done, it will be with thoughts of us they are tortured with. Sound good?

...

That's what I like to hear. But I got a word of warning for all you would-be RED Team. When you join our command, you take on debit. A debit you owe us personally. Each and every man under our command owes us one hundred Robot motherboards. And we want want our motherboards. And all y'all will git us one hundred robot motherboards, taken from the bodies of one hundred deactivated robots. Or you will die tryin'.