Cecil: Oh, I don't get paid enough for zhis! Cleanup is not my function.
Megabyte: [menacingly to Dot] You want to see how much I *hate* to *lose*?
Megabyte: You don't have to fight me, Bob. Think about it. We could be a great team.
Bob: I'd rather be erased.
Megabyte: Your choice.
Megabyte: As usual, they'll all do so badly inside the game. How gratifying. I want three legions in the sector to watch for Bob. He'll try to get in.
[Hack and Slash talk over each other as is their wont]
Hack: Oh, your evil eminence!
Slash: Yep, you bet!
Hack: Yes, yes sir!
Slash: Yes, sir, your Megabytedness.
Hack: Oh, we bow before thee.
Slash: So beautiful. We're not worthy.
Megabyte: Sorry, Bob. You can't play any games until you finish your work for me.
Enzo Matrix: Bob!
[Enzo jumps onto Bob, forcing Bob to the floor, and sits on him]
Enzo Matrix: We tried to quit-file them, dude, but it was seriously default! A major surge of goons showed up at the Diner and started to completely off-line the place! I mean...
[Enzo stands up and starts jumping as he describes the attack]
Enzo Matrix: ...jack out, crash, crunch, backslash, delete, trash, log-off...
Dot Matrix: Enzo.
Enzo Matrix: What?
Dot Matrix: I think Bob gets the picture.
[They look down. Enzo is standing on Bob's chest]
Bob: [strained] That's for sure!
[Bob tries to step over a sleeping Frisket to enter Dot's Diner. Frisket growls]
Cecil: Zhis situation, she is ridiculous! I am a dedicated server, not a maid.
[Bob climbs into Dot's Diner through a broken window amid growls from Frisket outside]
Dot Matrix: Ever heard of a door?
[With a bark, Frisket throws Bob's mangled zip-board in through the window]
Bob: Ever heard of a Frisket?
Hack: He's, eh, yeah, enveloped.
Slash: Eh, he's confined.
Hack: He's... he's trapped!
Hack: He's trapped, yeah!
Slash: Yeah, he's trapped.
Bob: I don't think so.
[Bob zips aside, the vehicles pass and Hack and Slash smash into each other, breaking into pieces]
Hack: I *hate* when this happens.
Slash: I do too.
Hack: It's like a reckoning.
Slash: Yeah, it's like...
Hack: It's *your* fault...
Slash: Yeah, but...
Hack: and I hate it.
Slash: My *arm*! Where's my *arm*!
Hack: [Slash's arm lands on Hack's head] Ow!
Bob: Sorry guys. End program. Better luck next cycle.
Slash: There you...
Slash: We allow who finds him say...
Hack: *I* said...
Slash: No, no, no.
Hack: Who told you what - aaa...
Slash: It's me. *I* found him!
Hack: ...aaaohh, look out! Slow!
Slash: He's getting away!
Slash: Ohhh... Hey! Hey!
Slash: Woah. Aaaaaaah!
Bob: Low clock speed or what?
Bob: I come from the Net. Through systems, peoples, and cities, to this place: Mainframe. My format: guardian. To mend, and defend. To defend my newfound friends, their hopes, and dreams. To defend them from, their enemies... They say the User lives outside the Net, and inputs games for pleasure. No one knows for sure, but I intend to find out. *Reboot!*