Earl Boen credited as playing...
Taurus
- Sgt. Slaughter: At ease, Disease! I've been expecting you. My name is Sgt. Slaughter. Special drill instructor for G.I. Joe.
- Lt. Falcon: That's terrific, Sarge, but I'm tryin' to cut back on the chicken sweat just now, so if you don't mind...
- Sgt. Slaughter: [grabs him by the collar] You're going nowhere, space case. You're here because you're an industrial strength foul-up! My job is to whip you into shape and I mean *whip*! There's only two ways out of my command: on your feet like a man, or in a ditty bag... an itty-bitty ditty bag! *You got it?*
- Lt. Falcon: [smartly] Yes, sir!
- Sgt. Slaughter: That's better! Now straighten up and meet the Renegades. They're not real dependable now, but when I get through with them, what are you going to be?
- Mercer, Taurus, Red Dog: Perfect!
- Sgt. Slaughter: That's right. Perfect. Meet Mercer, an ex-Cobra Viper who's seen the light. Red Dog, booted out of pro football for unnecessary roughness. And Taurus, a circus acrobat with a few loose bats in his big top.
- Lt. Falcon: Uh, hi guys.
- Red Dog: [after hearing the bell ringing] Dinner already?
- Sgt. Slaughter: Not unless you like snake burgers. We're gonna infiltrate the Terrordrome on Cobra Island.
- Mercer: That's suicide!
- Taurus: Yes. Horoscope say it bad day to travel.
- Sgt. Slaughter: Think of it as an extra rough training exercise.
- Lt. Falcon: Training, huh? Why don't we leave our weapons behind? Make it really educational.
- Sgt. Slaughter: Now that's what I call a challenge! No weapons! Let's move out!
- [Renegades growl at Falcon]
- Red Dog: You're not filling your brothers in, Mercer. What's Cobra-La?
- Mercer: I've never heard of it.
- Taurus: That answer gives me no comfort!
- Sgt. Slaughter: Pipe down! I believe him. Right now, we gotta warn headquarters.