The Venture Bros., Season 2

When Brock is reactivated by the Office of Secret Intelligence to track down a rogue agent, he subcontracts his ex-girlfriend, the malevolent mercenary Molotov Cocktease, to protect the Venture Compound from enemies within and without.

Brock:
You Colonel Gathers?

Hunter:
(sounding like Hunter S. Thompson) What! Oh no you don't! (tackles Brock and sits on his chest, holding a knife to his throat) What do you want from me? Who sent you, you bastard?

Brock:
Personnel! Special Agent-in-Training Brock Samson reporting for duty.

Hunter:
Don't you salute me, you bastard! (stabs Brock's hand with a knife)

Brock:
Ow!

Hunter:
Leave that Little John-John crap back in Biloxi.

Brock:
Yes sir!

Hunter:
And don't sir me, damn you! You're not in the Marines anymore. This is intelligence. Start using it.

Brock:
Okay, Colonel... uuh...

Hunter:
Call me Hunter. Now let me get a good look at you. Good god! They're making 'em big now a days. Don't they know there's a gas crunch on?. Look at the size of you. (reads file) Samson, Brock. Born Omaha, Nebraska to a single mother. Half Swedish, quarter Polish, quarter Winnebago. You lost your virginity at fourteen, have one brother and you enjoy Motocross. (burns file with cigarette) The Brock Samson you knew and were is dead. Happy birthday, Frankenstein! You're O.S.I.'s baby now. Are you prepared to do whatever your country asks of you?

Brock:
Yes.

Hunter:
Can you keep your head about you when you're confronted with mind-blowing weirdness at every turn?

Brock:
Yes!

Hunter:
Are you ready for anything?

Brock:
Yes!

Hunter:
(pause) Are you still ready for anything?

Brock:
Yes!

Hunter:
Wrong! (smashes Brock across the knee with a metal pole) Lesson number one: trust no one. Minute God crapped out the third caveman, a conspiracy was hatched against one of them. Get up, damn you! (throws Brock a jetpack) Strap 'er on kid, your training starts now. When I'm through with you, you'll be a member of the elite agency that's been thanklessly defending this big-ass country since the second American Revolution.... the invisible one. Welcome to the Office of Secret Intelligence, Samson!