Frank: Mmm..toasty..
Lynch: Quiet, drunkie. We’re not here to get warm.
Will: Why?! I am sick and tired of being in the fucking cold!
Sal: Well, its not cold here…ON DISC TWO!!
Dramatic music.
Will: …It is a bit.
Sal: It won’t be any longer..ON DISC TWO!!
More dramatic music. Bill slaps him around the back of his bald head.
Bill: Move it, you bastard.
Sal; Onwards..TO DISC TWO!!
Before dramatic music can play, Brick kick Sal in the butt, sending him tumbling down the stairs and hitting the wall at the bottom with the back of his head.
Sal: I’m alright! I’m alright!
Sal slowly stands up, cracking his arm back into place. His eyes widen and tear up.
Lynch: Oh no--
Sal: OUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU--
=In the TNA iMPACT Zone.=
Alex Shelley: And we would just like to tell you, Beer Money, that--SAL?!
Robert Roode: SAL?! We’re challenging you to a No Holds Barred match for those Tag Team Championships, Guns, What do you mean Sal?!
Sabin: SAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLL!!
=In the Middle East circa 2014=
Dick hands Jim a pint of Budweiser. Jim walks over to a lone table, brushing his hand over Jons shoulder, removing the cobwebs from him. He sits down and stops, looking up at the sky.
Jim: Poor, rich fucker.
=Shadow Moses, Blast Furnace=
--UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!
Lynch: Shut the fuck up and open the door.
Sal turns to his right and clicks a finger at the door. It doesn’t open. Dave storms forward and unleashes a clip of SOCOM bullets into the control panel, causing the door to override and open.
Dave: DONE! Now outta the way!
Dave shoves Sal aside and walks through the door, which is now emitting an orange haze.
Phil: Let’s go into the room which is giving off the colour scheme of Hell. REALLY smart, guys.
Dean: C’mon Phil, there’s no such thing as Hell!
Phil: Like there’s no such thing as Wendigos, The Four Horsemen, Reapers and Hellhounds?
Dean narrows his eyes.
Dean: ..You win this round, monkey boy.
Brick: MOVE IT YA BUMS!!
The mercenaries shuffle single file down the stairs, turning right and entering through the door into the Blast Furnace.
If one could imagine a physical embodiment of Hell, chances are it would look similar to the Blast Furnace. The intense heat coming from the bright yellow, white-hot liquid metal scum in a giant pool beneath their feet causes a blast of agonizing heat to wave over them. With the metal gridded catwalk, shaped like a fat L with one lone strut walking uselessly over the pool to their left, helping to reflect the heat, while the concrete reinforced walls serve to insulate it, the mercenaries start rolling their sleeves up almost immediately, sweat running like rivers and visible skin turning bright shades of red. To their left, a tiny concrete outcropping runs from the south wall, onto the west wall, and onto another section of catwalk, which leads to a diagonally sloping set of concrete steps, down onto the concrete floor, and presumably onto their destination. Notably, the concrete floor below the catwalks and neighbouring the pool of scum does not have a railing around it, unlike the metal catwalks. A huge screech and groan fills the air, causing the mercenaries to jolt left: A crane, attached to the ceiling via a series of metal girders, patrols north and south, little more than a metal box on a hook, not doing anything of importance aside from sweeping the concrete outcropping on the wall.
Lynch: Fuck. It’s. Hot.
Will: Finally, you appreciate me!
Billy: Shut up, pansy boy!
Mr. Dibbley: Urggh..us penguins prefer the cold..this heat is..horrendous..
Mr. Moneypennies: Sheeeittt…me too..
Jericho: Keep strong lads, keep strong.
Sal reaches into his pocket, pulling out an egg, smashing it against the wall and dropping the insides to the catwalk: It starts frying immediately.
Bill: Ah..shit.
The egg explodes into flames and the mercenaries eyes widen.
Mercenaries: Ah, shit!
Lynch: Quiet!
The mercenaries look at lynch: Patrolling the stretch of catwalk over the pool of scum is a lone guard, his uniform strangely covered in blood. He gazes vacantly over the pool.
Frank: Shit, guards. Think they know about our intrusion?
Karab: Probably not.
That Other Random Guy leans back against the wall, before jumping up and screaming violently, dancing around.
That Other Random Guy: MY BACK! MY BACK! MY SPINE IS COOKING!
The guard turns to the mercenaries immediately.
Guard: I SEE ZEM!!
Bill: Nice going, *Beep*, you DICK!!
Guard: DON’T MOVE!!!
Bob: Why is it always the French?
Sal: Inexperienced cheese-eating surrender monkeys?
Guard: FUCK YOU!!
Bob: Oh, him. We beat his ass and crushed his ass with Bam Bam Bigelow.
Silence.
Bob: Wait a minute.
Guard: Yes, zats right..I LIVE!
Frank: HOW?!?!?
Guard: Your wrestler only knocked me unconscious! Concussed me, broke my coccyx, but I live!!
Lynch: Look, you’ve obviously got chops, so get the fuck out of the way and you live.
Guard: NEVER!
He spreadeagles his arms, standing in front of them.
Frank: Alright, who wants this one?
Jericho steps forward, throwing his cigar onto the metal grating of the catwalk and rolling up the sleeves of his trenchcoat and white shirt.
Jericho: This French poof is mine..
The guard chuckles, adopting a Queensbury Rules stance, bobbing back and forth on his feet.
Jericho: Whats your name, pansy?
Guard: Zey call me Fabien!
Jericho: My names Jericho, and Fabien is something you call a Poodle.
Fabien: Fuck you Jericho!
Jericho: Remove your mask, tosser.
Fabien stops his stance and stands still, grabbing his mask and pulling it off. Surprisingly, Fabiens face shows wear and tear. His forehead has two scars running down the left and right side, a large cross-shaped scar on his right cheek, and his bottom lip has a long white gash across it which, accompanied by the fact it hangs loosely from his mouth, is homage to Fabiens violent background. His head is crowned with spiky black hair, his nose is bent, crooked and small, pointed. His jaw is broad, and covered with thin black stubble. Deep wrinkles have started to engrain his cheeks, yet his eyes do not have any bags under them.
Jericho: So..fighter? Impressive. You might not be a poof.
Bill: Oh man, he looks nasty. Looks like he a fought a bear and the bear won.
Brick: Lookin’ like he fought in the backwaters of Texas!
Fabien simply smiles, fists still clenched.
Fabien: Shall ve fight, my inzane opponent???
Jericho, having scanned Fabiens face, nods and grabs Karab, shoving him in front of him. Karab raises his metal shield and whimpers.
Karab: If you hit me, it counts as racial prejudice!
Fabien stands straight. Karab slowly looks out from behind his shield.
Karab: Peace?
Lynch: C’MON FAGGOTS! FIGHT! FIGHT OR SNAKE DIES YOU FUCKING YELLOWBELLY TWATS!!
Karab nods and runs backwards, standing at the back of the mercenaries. Fabien wipes his brow and grins.
Fabien: It’z getting hot in here! Imagine if you leave Snake to face ze might of Vulcan Raven ALONE!
Lynch folds his arms, unaware that the mercenaries have formed a huddle behind him. They disband a few seconds later and Frank steps forward.
Frank: Let the record show that would not be a bad thing!
Lynch growls and grabs the long-sleeved white shirt of his combat fatigues and tears them off, along with his combat vest, revealing chiselled pecs, abs and lats. Interestingly, a long scar winds down his back, around the area of his spine, and another set of what looks like raised claw marks, silver in colour, under his right arm.
Sal: How uncouth. Fighting needlessly. We can resolve this with words!
Billy: Seriously, ya rich tosser?
Sal: No. KICK HIS ASS AND BREAK HIS TEETH, LYNCHY!
Lynch turns to his mercenaries and pumps his arms to the air, looking for some support. The mercenaries punch the air and cheer, showing some support for their long-suffering leader for the very first time. Lynch turns to Fabien and wipes his brow.
Lynch: Pretty fucking hot, actually.
Bill: Duh, blast furnace!
Brick: I think you’ll find it’s a melting pot!
Bill: Whatever, Bricky.
Phil: Oh man, I have got ball soup going on right now..
Bob turns to Phil
Bob: That was WAY TOO MUCH INFORMATION!
Phil adjusts the crotch of his trousers.
SaL: Same here, it’s too fucking hot!
Lynch: SHUT UP! Fabien, I’m going to give you one last chance you snail-eating, wine-drinking Gallic faggot, turn around and move the fuck away or I will beat your ass to hell and back!
Vince: He means it! He beats us regularly!
Phil: Can’t we just shoot him? In fact, why aren’t we shooting him?
Lynch: Cause sometimes, we need to do something crazy, something stupid, but something that one day might make a movie.
A murmuring of agreement across the mercenaries.
Will: Only if I play myself! NO-ONE can replicate these looks!
That Other Random Guy: Except a shrivelled turd.
Will: OH HA HA! Look at you, *Beep*! You look like a mix between a paper bag and a bulldogs cock!
Fabien: Zere is also ze fact zat I hold ze codes to Liquids key card and ze blast doors blocking ze way which cannot possible be destroyed?
Vince: There’s that too.
Lynch: SHUT UP FAGGOTS!
The mercenaries line up against the wall the door is on, holding their rifles close. Lynch and Fabien pace around the elevated floor. Lynch snags a shoelace on one of the irregular metal grids and pulls, looking down at it.
Lynch: Huh, that could b--
Fabien zooms forward and hits Lynch with a quick jab to the jaw, Lynch spins around
Lynch: CRIKEY!
Lynch falls to his knees and Fabien walks forward, jettisoning his boot up into Lynchs gut. Lynch is kicked up, freed from the grid, and rolls to the feet of Bob, who leans down, grabs him under his arms and picks him up, patting his back.
Bob: THE FIRST RULE OF FIGHT CLUB IS KICK THE FUCKING FRENCHY!!
Sal: Actually, the first rule of Fight Club is you don’t tal--
Brick grabs Sals shoulder and slams him backwards into the wall, the back of his head snapping against concrete and knocking him unconscious.
Brick: Get ‘im done, Lynchy!
Brick takes off his camouflage baseball cap and wipes his brow as the heat seems to intensify
Brick: Wowwee! It’s hotter than a swamp gaters stomach!
Lynch lunges at Fabien, who steps to the side. Lynch collides with the railing and Fabien runs at him, shoulder down. Lynch quickly jumps to the left and Fabien quickly ducks lower, only to backflip and smash his lower spine off the railing, collapsing in a heap on the floor.
Phil: T-T-T-TOTAL WIPEOUT!!
Dean: He fought the railing and the railing won!
Fabien slowly gets to his knees, only for Lynch to slam his foot into the side of his temple. Fabiens head slams to the side and he collapses. Lynch nods and cricks his neck from side to side.
Lynch: HEAR ME ROAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRR!!!!!!
Lynch lets out a deep bellow from the pit of his stomach.
That Other Random Guy: HA!
Silence. Lynch turns to him, his right eye twitching and pulsing violently.
That Other Random Guy: I MEAN YOU GREAT! ALL HAIL OUR COMMANDANTE!
Bill: You faggot.
Fabien gets onto his knees again, but Lynch grabs the back of his hair roughly, twisting the strands between his gnarled hands and slamming his forehead into the second-level of railing. Fabien yelps, and Lynch does it again, before turning his neck to the side and slamming the side of his temple into the railing, throwing him down onto the metal grating, spitting down.
Lynch: YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!
Fabien slowly raises his head up.
Fabien: ….You…vin..
Fabiens head collapses down onto the grating. Lynch looks down at him and taps him with his foot.
Lynch: Wake up, French Fry.
Bill: Can we move now? My balls are running like a river.
Will takes off his shirt and wrings it, causing a mini waterfall to flow into the furnace.
Will: Boys…You got a dream coming true! Will Studlin, here,. Barechested and sweating!
Sal: I think I’ve vomited in my mouth.
Dean: So have I.
Karab: I vomited out my mouth.
Karab doubles over and vomits violently onto the grating. The mercenaries groan and scatter from the wall.
Will: Oh, that’s classy man.
Lynch: I ain’t killing you, that’d be a waste of a good blade.
Fabien: The code iz one-seven-zero-seven.
Lynch: …Eh?
Fabien: FOR ZE DOOR, YOU UZELESS AMERICAN PEEG!!!
Lynch slams his foot down on Fabiens face roughly. Fabiens head collapses to the side, eyes closed.
Lynch: ….I think I killed him.
Mr. Dibbley: Oh, how charming! He gives us the code, and you kill him!
Moe: Well, that’s one less guard to worry about.
Sal: Chivalry has died, gentlemen, for you just stomped a Frenchman.
Lynch: How in the name of Jesus Christs cock does that mean chivalry has died?
Phil: I dunno, but that looks like it hurt.
Brick: Look! He even left them funny grooves on Frenchies face!
Karab: Did you really need to do that?
Lynch: You’re right, I didn’t, so lie on the floor and let me stomp YOUR face instead, you fucking Indian bastard!!
Dean: Dawwww..he called him what he is. Hear that Karab? That was a compliment!
Will: Shut up, you pasty bastards, and admire the sweat!
Will gives a seductive jiggle of his pecs, which can only be described as a material filled with lumps of meaty jelly rather than muscle, towards Bill. Bill screams repeatedly at the top of his lungs and claws at the wall.
Bill: HELP! HELP! RAPE! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPE!!!!!!
Silence. The mercenaries slowly turn to Bill, eyebrows cocked.
Bill: I thought he was going to rape me!
Will: HAHAHAHAHA No. I can do much better than you, you disgusting bastard.
Billy: Both of ya, shut up!
Robbie: Seeing Will is making my eyes bleed.
Dave: Agreed. Maybe we should kill him.
Will: Yeah yeah..kill me and immortalize the studmuffin!
Dave pulls his SOCOM from out his belt and pulls back the slide on the barrel, securing the magazine.
Dave: Yeah, I’m gonna kill him--
Moe: Stop! Now!
Lynch: WHY?! KILL HIM, DAVE!!
Moe: Maurice, mate..Behind you.
Maurice: Ahh no, it’s a propah dick behind me, isn’there?
Phil: He’s trying his luck.
Bill: WE CAN SEE YOU!!
Maurice turns around and the guard yelps, jumping up and dropping his FAMAS to the ground. Maurice growls and twists his neck from side to side, making a series of cracking and popping sounds echo throughout the Blast Furnace.
Guard One: Umm..hello?
Maurice keeps advancing on the guard, who backs into a railing. He gulps and looks down below him at the unforgiving metal scum, reaching temperatures in the range of thousands of degrees, a plunge of which would strip flesh from bones. The guard looks at Maurice and raises his shaking arms.
Guard One: Parley?
Maurice turns around, before jolting his head at the guard
Maurice: BOO!
The guard screams and steps back, falling over the railing and collapsing backwards.He falls straight down into the boiling metal scum of the furnace. The guard kicks and screams, flailing his arms as the metal scum starts to boil and burn away his khaki fatigues.
Phil: Awww..look, he’s swimming!
Dean: I really don’t think his skins supposed to be stripping off though.
The guards head ducks beneath the scum before resurfacing, his skin peeling and raw, causing much scarlet to flow across the surface of the molten scum.
Sal: Aw man, that’s nasty Maurice.
Maurice: Not ma fault, y’know?
Mr. Dibbley waddles over, looking over the railing.
Mr. Dibbley: MY WORD! That mans flesh seems to be melting off!
Sal: That it is, Pingu..That it is.
A skull, gleaming and white, slowly bobbles up across the surface, gleaming in the vivid metal scum.
Dean: Well, that’s him done for. Shall we get on with this?
Phil: On with what?
Lynch: DOWN HERE YOU SLOW CUNTS!
Mr. Dibble, Dean, Phil, Maurice and Sal looks around: Lynch is on a concrete platform below them, standing near a liftshaft which was little more than a cage wheeling up a weak metal plank. Lynchs face was red from the heat, and he wiped his brow: The heat of the Furnace was getting much more intense, as judged by the irridiscent glow that seemed to brighten even these lifeless, grey concrete walls that enapsulated it. One could only imagine what the concrete floor felt like. Dean walked over to the railing, looking down at Lynch.
Dean: OI! HOW ARE WE SUPPOSED TO GET DOWN THERE??!!
Lynch blinks.
Lynch: IT’S ONLY TEN AND A BIT FEET!! YOU CAN FUCKING JUMP AND ROLL YOU LAZY CUNTS!!
Dean turns to the mercenaries. Dave and Robbie were busy pulling Wills uniform over his head while Brick sat on his legs, pinning him down.
Mr. Dibbley: Oh, what a blessed relief!
Dean: Lets just jump, shall we?
Dean turns around and hauls himself over the railing, making the drop down and rolling across the concrete with his head in his arms to avoid a deadly impact. He gets to his feet and salutes Lynch.
Dean: See? I’m here. I’m cool. I am awesome.
Lynch: Chevrolet?
Dean: Yes’m?
Lynch: Shut the FUCK up.
Dave and Robbie haul Will over to the railing and rock him left and right.
Dave and Robbie: One..two..THREE!
They throw him over the railing and Will screams, rolling across the hot cement with a dull crunch. Dave and Robbie quickly vault over the railing, rolling across the cement when they hit it. Phil walks over to the railing and looks down.
Phil: ….About that, fuck that, I’m catching the lift.
Phil walks to his right and jabs a finger against the rusted control panel on one of the gridded gates which held the tiny cargo lift for the Blast Furnace. The lift creaks violently, before heading up the shaft incredibly slowly. Lynch sighs and rubs his eyes.
Lynch: Nolastname, I want to really, really hurt you.
Phil: C’mon..move faster..
Phil taps the gate of the elevator with his toe, only for the lift to grind to a halt.
Phil: Shit. Umm..
Mr. Dibbley waddles over and slaps the control panel with a well-placed flipper, causing the gridded metal platform to creak and grind slowly upwards again as Jericho himself walks over to the railing, looking down at his tan trenchcoat.
Jericho: About that? I…don’t want to get this dirty.
Jericho stands besides Dibbley and Phil. Karab himself runs to the railing and vaults over, sitting down on his shield and hitting the concrete hard, causing him to slam off the shield, a few inches into the air, and onto the concrete face-first.
Dean: DAMN!!
Lynch, Robbie, Will and Dave holds up placards reading “9.0” as Karabs legs twitch violently. That Other Random Guy, Vince, Sal, Bill and Billy walk over with a giant piece of fabric, each one of them clutching an area of it.
Lynch: What the fuck is that?
Maurice: Aye, sir? It’s mah old shirt, y’know? Always keep it with me jus’ in case, y’know?
The mercenaries quickly hop onto the railing in unison and jump off, catching some air with the parachute and gliding over the mercenaries and forward into the concrete staircase.
Sal: STEER! STEER!
Billy: I CANNO’!! BRACE FOR IMPACT!!
Bill: WHY DO I HAVE TO BE AT THE FRONT?!?!?
The parachute slams into the side of the staircase, and Bill is sandwiched between Billy, Sal and wall, causing the parachute to collapse quickly to the floor and bury the groaning mercenaries under a large white dress-shirt. Lynch sighs and tugs at his earlobe.
Lynch: I will not kill them, I will not kill them, I will not kill them, I will not kill them..
Bob and Frank roll across the floor in front of Lynch, cricking their necks in unison as they get to their feet. Brick joins Phil, Jericho and Dibbley in front of the elevator, whose platform has just reached the catwalk, causing the doors to slowly creak open. Four of them pile into the elevator, only for Moe to skitter forward between them. Phil walks forward and slowly closes the doors, only for the platform to stay still.
Mr. Dibbley: Umm..little help, chaps?
Frank walks forward and clicks a button on the control panel at the bottom of the shaft. The platform creaks violently and starts slowly heading downwards.
Mr. Moneypennies: Awwww man! I hate packed elevators, dawg!
Mr. Moneypennies head slowly peaks out of the hem of Bricks pants, flicks its tongue, and quickly buries itself back in.
Jericho: Brick, why is your snake…
Brick: Why’s my snake what?
Jericho: You did that to get that joke!
Brick: What joke are all yer talking about?
Phil: Why is the snake in your pants?
Brick: It’s always been there!!
Jericho, Moe, Phil and Dibbley cringe as Brick laughs loudly, slapping his chest.
Brick: HOOOO YEAAHHH!! But seriously, he won’t fit anywhere else without killing me, get it?
Mr. Moneypennies: Shiz homie! I just wish you’d clean up properly, yo!
Brick: Moneypennies might have to be his own soldier next mission, y’hear?
Lynch: MOVE IT, CUNTS!!
Maurice himself had even managed to get down to the floor, using another spare shirt tucked into his oversized ammo belt to act as a huge parachute, causing even the gentle giant to float the floor with grace, especially compared to the other mercenaries collapsed under his large white shirt. Vince crawls out from under it, choking.
Vince: WHY COULDN’T YOU WASH IT?!?!?
Maurice shrugs as the elevator reaches the bottom of the shaft, and Moe, Dibbley, Brick, Jericho and Phil walk over to Lynch, saluting.
Phil: Reporting for duty.
Lynch: Stand still, I’m going to carve my initials into your GODDAMN FACE!!
Lynch pulls the knife out of his belt and jolts towards Phil, who screams and hides behind Karab. Karab flinches backwards, shield up high, and Lynch stops, growling ferally. Phil holds his hand behind the shield.
Phil: Gimme five, Karab.
Karab slaps his hand as Lynch turns around and walks over to the fallen mercenaries, pulling the shirt from them and tossing it into the molten metal pool behind them.
Maurice: YA CRUEL BASTARD!!
Bill, Billy, Vince, Sal and That Other Random Guy get to their feet quickly as Lynch stomps at them, making them run forward into the makeshift group of mercenaries. Lynch runs his hands through his hair, freeing it from sweat and looking at them.
Lynch: About damn time you pansies did something adrenaline pumping which didn’t involving a night with a tub of vaseline and your right hand. Follow me.
A hiss of steam pierces through a small hole in the concrete wall to their left, hitting Bill in the face. Bill smacks his lips.
Bill: Mmm..tastes like barbecue.
Billy: Dude, your eyebrows have gone.
Bill runs his hands up his face, his eyes widening: His eyebrows were scorched, blackened and on their way to the great face in the sky.
Bill: DAMMIT!!
Moe: Ha-ha!
Bill: NOT COOL, MAN! NOT COOL!
That Other Random Guy: Oh, I think it’s cool, alright….Bill, stop looking so surprised!
Bill: OH HA FUCKING HA! YOU ARE SUCH A COMEDIAN, *BEEP*!
Lynch turns to face them.
Lynch: Alright, you bunch of rampant retards--
Sal: ALLITERATION! HIGH FIVE!
Sal holds his palm up high for Lynch, who simply glares at him. Sal sighs and slaps his hand down beside his waist.
Sal: Rampant killjoy..
Lynch: Yes, I am a killjoy, because nothing gives me an absolute greater pleasure than to see you bastards cry to your mothers every night after I crush what little, pathetic hopes and dreams you carry inside those peanut brains. Now, listen here, we are so, so close to ending this thing after God knows how long stuck in this pile of shit, I am desperate for sex, and everytime I see a pool of liquid I want to drink it in the hope that it really is tequila..Now, listen to me: MARCH NOW OR I WILL SHOOT EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU!!
The mercenaries simply stand there, straight-faced.
Lynch: Did I not make myself clear?
Phil: Oh, you did, it’s just there’s a guy behind you pointing a gun at your head.
A loud click fills the air and Lynch spins around, a barrel tracing from the back of his skull to touching his nose. Staring down the iron sights is a genome soldier with his finger on the trigger.
Mr. Dibbley: You know, I do believe that soldier might be retarded. We wouldn’t have to aim when we shoot that close!
Soldier Two: Sooooo..Intruders..
Lynch: We’re Geno--
The soldier makes a point of squeezing the trigger slightly. Lynch rolls his eyes and sighs, his arms dropping by his sides.
Soldier Two: Now, what do you have to say for yourself?
Lynch: I fucked your mother.
The mercenaries snigger.
Soldier Two: Alright then, goodnight.
The soldier pulls the trigger, but all that’s heard are resounding clicks everytime he squeezes. A question mark appears above his head and he looks down: Lynch had somehow managed to pull the magazine out of the rifle, even when it was secured. To make a point of this, Lynch smashes the magazine against his forehead, causing the case to split and bullets to fall everywhere.
Lynch: Test me.
The soldier shrugs and pulls a Bowie knife out of his ammo belt, only for Dave to shove Robbie , Bill, Billy and Vince aside, holding a metal throwing star shaped like a Star of David.
Dave: HEY! GRUNT!
The soldier turns to him.
Dave: NICE TO MEET..JEW!!
Dave hurls the throwing star and it embeds itself in the soldiers eye. The soldier clutches his bloody face, screaming at the top of his lungs. His feet slam into the ground in pain and he falls to his knees, yanking desperately at the star embedded in his skull, simply causing more blood and membrane to flow from the gaping hole.
Brick: Woah!
Karab: That is some nasty shit, Dave.
Karab holds a hand out for Dave, who slaps it. Lynch stands there, arms folded and watching the screaming soldier.
Lynch: Can someone finish him off, PLEASE?!
Vince strolls forward, nodding.
Vince: This is how I like my opponents!..Already wounded for me to deal a sneaky killing blow!
Vince simply stands before the screaming guard and slowly closes his eyes. Lynch sighs and steps backwards, tugging his earlobe irritably. Vinces eyes snap open and he raises his arms and one leg into a the position of a Crane bird, before jumping up with his other leg and kicking the guards head clean off, sending it up into the sky and landing on hanging light beam. Vince clutches a fist in his hand and bows to the body of the guard which is still kneeling there, spraying fountains of arterial spray into the sky.
Sal: ……Now that? That’s cool.
Vince turns to them and nods, giving the thumbs up.
Vince: See? I can do stuff too!
Lynch: Dave, just do the fucking honors.
Dave walks forward and sighs, breathing in deeply and breathing out slowly, placing his arms and hands into a lotus position commonly seen on statues of Buddha.
Dave: Ommmmmmmmmmmm…Ommmmmmmmmm…Be one with the gun…One with the gun..
Billy fires a shot from his Dragunov Rifle from behind the crowd of mercenaries and it pierces the console. A huge crackle and screech emits from the console and the metal blast doors part in the middle, sliding open.
Jericho: Open…sesafucker.
The door slowly slides open.
Bob: Nice shot, Scot.
Billy: Nice shot? I was aiming for Dave. I missed.
Dave: Fuck you! I was being one with the gun!
Robbie kicks Dave in the rear.
Robbie: Move, dammit! I need to murder something!
The entrance yawns before them, beckoning the unfortunate mercenaries in. Ahead of them, a metal railing is already descending from their view. Lynch looks at Phil to his right, then to Frank to his left, before dashing forward. Phil and Frank simply stand there, straightfaced.
Lynch: STOP! THAT! LIFT!!
Snake: HAW HAW!
Lynch runs across the floor as fast as he can, arms pumping in a feeble attempt to drive him faster, only for him to skid violently to a halt before the shaft where the elevator is now much too deep to even think of jumping on. Lynch looks up to the sky and screams violently.
Vince: Awwwww..It thinks it’s the Hulk..
Lynch spins around on the balls of his heels, stomping so violently on the ground that it echoes violently throughout the hollow room.
Dean: Oh….fuck. I think he’s angry.
Bill: That would be an educated guess from you, right, dummy?
Dean spits on Bills shoe and Bill groans, rubbing it against the back of That Other Random Guys legs.
Bill: DUDE! THAT’S GREEN!
That Other Random Guy looks over his shoulder at Bill.
That Other Random Guy: Whats green?
Bill: Deans spit on the back of your leg.
Bob looks down at That Other Random Guys leg and laughs.
Bob: Wow! That’s practically dayglo!
That Other Random Guy looks over his shoulder and at the green smear up the calf of his cargo pants.
That Other Random Guy: JESUS, DEAN!! DID YOU HAVE TO LOOGIE?!?!
Dean: Karab.
Karab: Dean always loogies. Loogies are a great way to expel the disgusting garbage in your body.
Dean: Lone and behold! It got onto another piece of disgusting garbage!
That Other Random Guy turns around, rolling his sleeves up.
That Other Random Guy: Stand still, Dean, I’m going to rearrange your face into a Picasso painting.
Moe, who is standing to the right of That Other Random Guy, sighs and twists, headbutting him in the kneecap. That Other Random Guy jumps up in pain.
That Other Random Guy: OH, COME ON!!
Moe: Quiet! The bossman cometh..
Lynch stops before them, looking at both Phil and Frank, teeth bared and a low growl rolling from his mouth.
Lynch: Stand still. I am going to crack both your heads together and use the dust that comes out to rub in your fucking eyeballs with salt and my sperm.
Phil stands there, back straight, the corners of his mouth twitching.
Lynch: Is something fucking funny NOLASTNAME?!?!?!?
Phil: Sir, no sir.
Lynch stops growling and cocks an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly before giving a small hiss and spinning around, pointing a finger towards the shaft.
Lynch: Alright, cunts, go to it. NOW! CHOP FUCKING CHOP!
The mercenaries groan in protest and slump forward, carrying their assault rifles loosely and dragging their feet towards the shaft.
Lynch: HEY! I WANT YOU CUNTS TO MARCH! CHOP FUCKING CHOP!
The mercenaries groan louder in protest, but straighten their backs and march towards the shaft, albeit raising their legs as high as they can.
Lynch: STOP WITH THE JOHN CLEESE WALKING NOW!!
Robbie lifts his leg up high, “accidentally” kicking Vince in his rear.
Robbie: Foot slipped.
Vince lifts his leg high in reply, kicking Billy in the rear.
Vince: Foot slipped.
Billy turns around to Vince and headbutts him in the chest, sending him crumpled violently to the ground, clutching his chest and gasping for air. Billy smirks and turns around, marching normally.
Billy: Head slipped.
Mr. Dibbley: Charming.
The mercenaries reach the end of the shaft, and take a few steps back, now lining up horizontally and looking down. It was a yawning, black abyss that swallowed even light itself.
Bob: Looks bottomless, guys.
Frank leans over the edge, rolling his tongue around his mouth and spitting a glob of phlegm into it.
Frank: Yep, that’s bottomle--
The sound of a squelch hits the air, followed by a scream.
Snake: OH GOD! WHAT THE FUCK IS THA—THAT SMELLS LIKE A ROTTEN ASS COVERED IN FISH SHIT! THAT IS NASTY! WHAT THE FUCK?!?!? OH GOD!!!!
Frank quickly backs away.
Bob: Wrong, it’s not bottomless!
Frank: WELL, DUH!!
Snake: IT SMELLS BAD! LIKE A ROTTEN VAGINA COVERED IN FISHPASTE!!
Frank: My breath isn’t that bad!
Lynch: We’ll agree to disagree.
Dean: We’ll also agree to call it a FUCKING LIE. Your teeth have forests growing in them. I remember one time you grinned, and an elf waved at me.
Karab: I remember one day when Frank came into the kebab shop to place an order, I swear a dragon flew out and bit me!
Frank: FUCK YOU!
Sal: Yeah, that was just the pure acid of Franks mouth skewering your eyeballs!
Frank curses, kicking out and flailing his arms wildly before turning around. The mercenaries step backwards slightly, watching Frank dash across their line, giving each of them the middle finger.
Frank: FUCK YOU ALL!
Brick: Lookie him, all stressed.
Bob: Oh man, and I was supposed to be emo guy.
Mr. Dibbley: How embarrassing..
Frank: I’m sick guys! I really am! I’ve spent day after day hear in this cold, unforgiving hell, and it’s so close…AND I LOOK DOWN INTO THE ABYSS AND I FEEL LIKE STEVIE WONDER!
A small silence fills the cavernous room.
Dave: ….Black?
Frank falls to his knees, grasping his hair.
Frank: I can’t take anymore! I need to go home!
Lynch rolls his eyes and stomps forward, grabbing Frank by his collar and pulling him up, slapping him repeatedly.
Lynch: CALM DOWN RUMMY!
Lynch lets go and Frank stumbles backwards, falling down the giant, sloping elevator shaft. The mercenaries quickly run over, wide-eyed, as Frank falls down the shaft and into the deep, black abyss.
Frank: GIVE MY BEST TO JIM BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaammmm…
Franks voice fades out of earshot.
Lynch: ….Oh bugger, I think I killed him.
The mercenaries keep staring down the shaft.
Vince: Now that’s..entertainment! BREAK A LEG, FRANK!
A dull silence filled the air, before a dull crash and crack is heard. Two different voices start screaming.
Snakes Voice: WHAT IS THIS?!?!? I WANTED MERYLS POON IN MY FACE, NOT AN UGLY DRUNKEN FUCK!!!
Franks Voice: I THINK I BROKE MY LEGS!!!
Vince: Score one!
Vince and Dean hi-five.
Franks Voice: THIS ISN’T FUNNY GODDAMMIT!!!
Dean: It is. It is.
Vince: Well, that’s two points to me!
The shaft echoes with a giant creak and slam as the elevator reaches the bottom. A small crunch and crry is heard.
Frank: WHY DID YOU KICK MY STOMACH??!!
Snakes Voice: …Fun.
Franks groans of pain become audible in the echoing abyss before another creak and cry emits through the shaft, the gears of the shaft cranking near their feet as the elevator begins its ascent.
Lynch: About fucking time.
Moe: Alright, dudes, plan?
Lynch: Same as its always been: Wait with our thumbs up our asses for action to show, then blow action away with the proper amount of bullets--
Dave: The proper amount being too many?
Lynch: The man speaks wisely.
Robbie: I like that plan. It sounds good.
The railing comes into view, and the elevator slowly creaks to a halt in front of them: It becomes obvious that this elevator was meant for heavy cargo, judging by its large span that the mercenaries easily walk onto with room to spare. To the right stands a control panel, comprised of screens, buttons, dials and a lever. Lynch walks over to the console and tilts his head, motioning for Bob, who strolls over, ignoring the crumpled form of Frank who is hanging over the northern railing.
Bob: Yeah?
Lynch: How the fuck does this thing work?
Bob: Why are you asking me? I only joined the mercenaries because the academy had Taco Wednesdays.
Frank gives a loud groan, his arms swinging in the breeze. Will walks over to him and places a foot on his lower back, raising his arms.
Will: Gentlemen..I have slain the sasquatch!
Vince smells the air.
Vince: He smells dead, too.
Mr. Dibbley: It really does..that mix of alcohol, piss and tears! How I imagine Frank will die, actually.
Frank: …geroffe..
Will: What?
Frank: GEROFFA ME!!
Will kicks his lower back and steps away from him, leaning over the railing and looking into the abyss as Frank claws himself backwards, using the two levels of the railing to slowly claw himself to his feet. He stumbles slightly and turns to the mercenaries, squinting.
Frank: Guyssss..
Dean, Karab, Bob and Dave cringe and jump backwards.
Frank: WHAT?!
Dean: I wasn’t prepared for the ugliness!
Dave: IT’S A HIDEOUS BEING!!
Frank: Ha ha..
Dean: Are you going to shave that thing?
Frank looks down at his grizzly beard, which has claimed the entire lower half of his face and is hanging loosely over his chest, thick and tangled like iron wires.
Frank: Never.
Bob folds his arms and looks at the control panel, whose screen was glowing a baby-blue colour. He leant out his hand and hesitantly tapped five numbers on the keypad: Nothing.
Bob: Looks uncrackable. We could be stuck here for a while.
Sal: Hey, did you two stooges try typing in the code Fabien gave us?
Bob: Ahhhh…
He taps the numbers one, seven, zero and seven again on the keypad. The lift gives a thunderous, almost aching crunch, and the control box to the north emits a whirring sound as the panel starts to slowly descend down the visible wires.
Bob: Wow, using the same code for several systems, who would be stupid enough to do that?
=Underground Lair=
In the control room, Ocelot is standing in front of a coffee machine, scratching his head.
Ocelot: Boss..whats the code for the coffee machine?
Liquid: You fool! You don’t know? It’s one seven zero seven!
Ocelot: Haven’t we, y’know, used that code on practically everything? And isn’t it based off your credit card PIN number?
Liquid: SO?! Who will know that we used the same code, and who will know its my PIN number??!
Ocelot shrugs in semi-agreement and turns to the coffee machine as That Hispanic Guy walks past the window, whistling innocently with a leather wallet clasped in his hands behind his back.
=Blast Furnace Elevator=
Finally, the platform grinds to a screeching halt, and the northern railing slides down into a gap between elevator and shaft, offering them the chance to step off.
Sal: About time..My ass is killing me..
Dean walks past, holding his nose.
Dean: YOUR ass is killing ME!
Sal: Oh, come on! It wasn’t that bad?
Mr. Dibbley: Sir, when was the last time you had eggs covered in shit?
Frank: That’s bad, man!
Sal: Frank, that hurt, man!
Frank: Suck it up, junior!
Phil walks behind Frank and pats him on the back.
Phil: Feel better, Frankie-doodle.
Phil walks pasthim, having stuck a sign saying “KICK ME” on Franks back. Frank nods at Phil warmly, only for That Other Random Guy to run up behind him and kick him violently in the rear. Frank yelps and jumps around, facing him.
Frank: WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!?!?
That Other Random Guy: The sign told me to!
Frank: ..PHIL!!!
Phil simply laughs, high-fiving Jericho. The mercenaries walk forward into the cavernous hall. As it was underground, it needed minimal lighting and barely any décor: The walls were simple metal and concrete slabs alternating across the wall, while the floor seemed to be slabs of metal hastily put together, as evidence by numerous gaps and slots in the floor. The warehouse offered them a rustic odour: A mix of dust, mothballs and a horrible stench of mould from unpatched concrete in the ceilings.
Will: Goddamn, just because it’s underground doesn’t mean it needs to be left to rot. It offends my eyes.
Jericho: Plus, it smells like death.
Lynch: Yeah, well, when you’re building a bipedal nuclear-capable robot, I think the last thing you hire is an interior designer.
Will: Seriously? That’d be the first thing I hire!
Robbie: Because you’re a pansy.
Will: Fuck you, midget-gem!
Phil: Will, you shit-headed loon, will you shut up? Robbies right. You ARE a pansy.
Lynch: Guys, keep still.
Mercenaries: Why?!
Lynch points to their right: On the corner which connected one hall into another was another gun camera, lazily panning its surrounding. Several times it skated over the mercenaries, and not once did it open fire. Its lens also wasn’t a ruby red either, meaning it hadn’t detected intruders according to its AI.
Bill: This sucks. I am so not looking forward to facing a giant killing machine when even the camera hold grudges!
=Underground Lair=
Liquid: THIS LOOKS NOTHING LIKE THE PLANS! NOTHING!
Liquid is looking up at REX from the uppermost left catwalk, directly near REXs head: A huge, curling, black metal moustache has been welded below the cockpit, while a red flag is draped over the Radome, having been moved from the rail gun. Liquid looks over the railing down at the legs of REX, which have also been welded to give it the appearance of wearing black tights tucked into white socks, much like the garb of a bull fighter. That Hispanic Guy is standing on the top of the cockpit, and gives a quick Salsa tap of his feet.
That Hispanic Guy: OLE!!
Stoofer: I like it. It’s traditional.
That Random Guy: PLUSSSSS It will get you huge credit in Latin America!
Liquid: REX HAS A MOUSTACHE DAMMIT!!
Ocelot: I like it, sir.
Liquid: SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UUUUUUUUUUUUPPPPP!!!
The cockpit opens slightly to reveal the bulky form of Johan, who presses a button and the “Spanish Fly” starts to play throughout the Lair.
That Hispanic Guy: SI! SI! SIIIIIIII!!!!!!!
Liquid: Ocelot, just fucking pay them. I want them out of here before REX is launched.
Ocelot: Why?
Liquid: I fear they might have replaced my missiles with party poppers.
Sure enough, a huge *POP* fills the air and several giant multi-coloured streamers explode from behind REX and begin to drape the catwalk.
=Elevators to Underground Storage=
Lynch: ….Why is it watching?
Fabiens Voice: Greetings to ze Americeen Peegs!!
Phil: Hey! We’re British here too! And Indian! And Antarctica—Antarcticeen—Antartartic..Mr. Dibbleys a penguin!
Fabiens Voice: Ah, vell, my apologies…Greetings peegs in general!
Sal: I’ll give him that.
Vince: Yeah, yeah.
Dean: Yep.
Frank: I like that guy.
Lynch: WHAT DO YOU WANT?!
Fabiens Voice: Ah, I just came to zay, zat zere are Claymores in zis next hall behind me! Zoo might vant to leap over ze eastern railing vather than hunt for ammo!
The mercenaries look around, murmuring to eachother.
Lynch: That’s grand, but why are you helping us?
Fabien: LIQUID STIFFED MY PAY!!
A louder murmuring of agreement ripples across the mercenaries.
Maurice: Aye, Frenchy, that blonde-headed bastard stiffed us too!
Dave: Yeah! We’re going to find him and tear his balls off!
Mercenaries: YEAH!
Will: Then piss down his throat!
Mercenaries: YEAH!
Mr. Dibbley: Then tear his eyes out and feed him the optical nerves!!
Mercenaries Yea—What?!
Vince: Penguin dude, you’ve got issues.
Brick: BIG issues!
Jericho: Nothing wrong with a killer penguin!
Phil: Jerry, I’ll tell you how weird that sounds after this is over.
Fabiens Voice: Ah! Here comes zome guards, and zey look pissed vith me! I vill see you guys sometime soon!
The voice feed on the camera crackles, interspersed with gunfire, screams, and the sounds of bones snapping before it cuts off. Lynch stands there, scratching his head.
Lynch: …..Yeah. Let’s get this done with.
The mercenaries groan loudly and follow Lynch around the corner and to their right: Sure enough, just a few steps ahead of them is yet another elevator, which seems to be a carbon copy of the one they just ridden.
Bob: Methinks, low production costs involved in this base!
Moe: Know what I think? That when we get home I am never riding another elevator as long as I live. Between this, Curried Vindaloo Monster and Banana Man, I’ll be grateful never to SEE ANOTHER FUCKING ONE!!
Billy: I agree!
The mercenaries line up in a horizontal single-file and vault over the railing onto the concrete platform. Brick stops halfway, catching his groin on the railing.
Brick: Damn, wait a sec—wait a sec--
His legs struggle as he tries to lift his left leg over the railing.
Billy: Move it, dumbass!
Brick: Leg stuck! Leg stuck like a pig!
Lynch: Someone give him help!
Phil, Jericho and Maurice walk over, grabbing Bricks hand and pulling him violently over the railing, causing him to collapse onto his hands and knees before standing up, dusting himself off and tilting his camouflage baseball cap at Phil and Maurice.
Brick: Charmed.
Lynch: Alright, pansies. Get ready for ANOTHER long ride.
Lynch strolls across the metal platform and inputs the numbers one, seven, zero and seven into the control panel. The gargantuan platform jolts, screeches, but slowly starts its descent into the dark abyss. Billy leans over the railing and spits: Nothing. Brick leans over the railing beside Sal and drops a clip of ammo down. Not even a rattle.
Brick: Oh fuck, that was me last ammo thing!
Frank: Seriously Schmicker?
Brick: Yep. BUT I gots me a knife.
Brick pulls a fish-gutting knife out of his back pocket, wielding it and does a quick practice stab at Frank, grinning.
Brick: HEHE! See? Sharp thing!
Frank nods and aims his rifle at Bricks head.
Frank: Note this, Brick: By the time you run at me with that knife, your head will have ceased to exist, instead forming part of the floor where several assault rifle casings will be holding it down. What is your countermeasure?
Brick blinks and walks forward, shoving Frank over Vince, who had gotten on all fours behind him. Frank collapses over Vince, rolls backwards onto his feet, and slams against the railing. Frank grasps it tightly.
Frank: HAHA! See? No tumbling for me--
A raven swoops down and caws loudly at Franks eye. Frank screams and falls backwards over the railing, the sound of his back and arms thudding off the metal cable filling the air. Maurice walks over to the railing and watches.
Maurice: Damn keds! Looks like the drunken mans ganna get zapped! LOOK OUT FOR THE CABLE--
The sound of an electric crackle fills the air, followed by Franks screams.
Frank: MY ASS! MY ASS! ITS BARBECUING MY ASS!
Moe: Mmmm..I smell pulled pork..
After a short while, the sound of thuds and crashes commences again, until a few seconds later it disappears from earshot.
Maurice: Yeah, he’s not getting up from that one lads!
Lynch: That much is obvious.
A loud crackle and sizzle shoots through the air.
Franks Voice: My ass!
Will: Wow, he’s going to be uglier by the end of this. How shit..
Will pulls out a small bottle of aftershave from one of the satchels on his ammo belt and dabs it onto his neck.
Sal: What are you doing?
Will
Bob: Gay.
Will: You wish you smelt as good as me when you get tentacle raped, you giant dumb cock!
Ravens suddenly start circling the elevator platform, having appeared from various roosting places in the holes of the shaft. The mercenaries look above them, watching.
Phil: Where the hell did they come from?
Vince: Hammerspace!
Phil: Hammerspace?
Vince: A fictional plane of space where characters can pull out random objects at any time, popularized in many anime series.
Vinces hair shoots out, growing to waist length and turning a vibrant red.
Vince: DESUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!
Dean: Man, Vince, you have got to lay off the hentai!
Vince: EESA MUSHU DOKI NAY!!
Phil: Wooby blooby bloob to you too, Wapenis sucker.
Vince: HIYAAAAAAAAAAA!!
Vince pulls out a katana from his elongated hair and points the tip at Phil.
Vince: MOKAY DAN NO TESTU!!!!!!!
Billy walks behind Vince, holding a steel chair and slamming it into his back. Vince collapses to the ground, unconscious, his hair falling off. Billy throws the chair over the railing and brushes off his hands.
Billy: That’ll do, Vinnie…That’ll do.
Mr. Dibbley: Where on Earth did you get the chair from?
Billy motions behind him, towards Chris Sabin and Alex Shelley who are standing there, waving.
Shelley: Dudes.
Sabin: Dudettes.
Phil: Motorcity Machineguns.
Shelley gives the MCMG hand sign.
Shelley: Keep it real. Oh, by the way, WHY DID YOU THROW OUR CHAIR OVER THE RAILING?!?!
Billy: Why? Need it?
Robert Roodes arm appears from a small blue portal, wrapping around Alex Shelleys neck and pulling him back.
Shelley: YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!
Billy: Oh, alright.
Shelley claws at Roodes arm while the mercenaries simply stand there, watching. Billy coughs,
Shelley: HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!
Billy takes a step forward, leans out a hand, but shakes his head and steps back.
Maurice: Ah think we should help tha lad, y’know!
Shelley: THANKS MAURICE!!
Maurice: Ah, sorry to tell ya, mate, I’m a fan o’ Beer Money instea’
Maurice cracks his knuckles and Shelley screams, backing into the portal and causing it to disappear in a blue fizz. Maurice turns around and shrugs.
Maurice: I’m no fan of that shit, lads!
Sabins eyes widen, and he turns to where the portal used to be.
Sabin: Ahhh..SHELLEY?!?!?!
Nothing.
Sabin: I might need some help..guys?
Phil: We’re not quantum scientists, Sabin! I can’t flick my wrist and cause a time hole to open!
Dean: No, but that’d be a cool trick for parties, wouldn’t it?
Dean flicks his wrist
Dean: I summon a Velociraptor..
He finished the flick and a blue portal appears with a Velociraptors head peering out of it, screeching at Dean and jumping on him. The mercenaries scream wildly: Sal jumps into Bricks arms, Jericho hides behind Karab. Dave shoves Robbie in front of him, and Bill dives behind Billy, pulling he collar of his fatigues over his eyes and rocking back and forth.
Bill: IT CAN’T SEE ME IF I CAN’T SEE IT! IT CAN’T SEE ME IF I CAN’T SEE IT!
Vince grabs the Velociraptor by its neck, but it simply turns around, latching its teeth to Vinces bushy beard. Vince screams, running around with the dinosaur attached to his beard.
Dean: DUDE! THAT’S THE LAST TIME I RUB MY BALLS IN THE FACE OF FATE!
Lynch rushes over to Vince, grabbing the Velociraptors legs and pulling.
Vince: NOOOOOOOOO!! NOT MY BEARD!!!
Lynch yanks the Velociraptor off, which takes out a chunk of Vinces beard hair. Vince falls to his knees, screaming wildly and Lynch throws the Velociraptor over the railing, dusting off his hands and breathing heavily.
Lynch: There, you pansi--
Bill screams as the Velociraptor digs its claws into the back of his fatigues as it falls, hanging on for dear life. Robbie rushes over, wielding his gun like a club and swings it at Bills back. The Velociraptor falls from its own weakness as Robbie smashes Bill full force in the back, sending him flat to the floor. To add insult to injury, Mr. Dibbley dives forward, only to land on Bill.
Robbie: Oops.
Robbie shrugs, sliding the assault rifle to his back and walking away from Bill, who coughs violently, his left leg twitching as Mr. Dibbley slowly gets up.
Mr. Dibbley: Sorry chap, my timing is awful these days!
Bill: I see..my mother..
Billy: Everyones seen your mother. Especially the postman.
Bill: ..Ha..fucking ha..I can taste my spine..
Moe walks over to Bill, slapping the top of his head.
Moe: Yo, get up weirdo!
Bills legs twitch and convulse violently.
Lynch: Get up, or so God help me I will shove my boot into your mouth!
Bill jumps up straight onto his feet with a grin on his face.
Bill: REFRESHED AND RESTORED!!
Sal: Retard.
Bill: Jerkoff.
Mr. Dibbley: Now now..You are both equally detestable!
Lynch: ARE YOU ALL DONE?!
The elevator turns silent. A raven swoops down onto Phils shoulder, pecking the side of his shaved head slightly before flying off again. Jericho is busy running his hands in his trenchcoat for a cigar that isn’t frozen, and Mr. Dibbley is standing there, goggles over his eyes and his flippers flapping boredly against his waist.
Mr. Dibbley: Anyone partook in a ripping yarn, lately?
Mercenaries: No.
Mr. Dibbley: Charming..
Jericho sighs and wraps his arms around himself as the air starts to get even more bitter.
Jericho: F-f-f-fucking cold!
Lynch: It is not chilly for me. My anger heats my body and keeps me alive.
Phil rubs his hands and holds them near Lynchs chest.
Phil: HE’S RIGHT! EVERYONE GROUP HUG!
Lynch screams as the mercenaries bound towards him, arms linking arms, arms wrapping around legs, heads and torsos. Moe hugs Lynchs legs and Sal jumps on top of the huddle, hugging them and humping the back of Bills neck.
Bill: SAL! THAT BETTER BE A GUN!
Sal: Nope, just my penis. Just my penis.
The mercenaries stand there, giving content sighs.
Dean: Wow..he really is warm!
Lynch stands there, teeth bared, eyes narrowed.
Lynch: ….You bastards give me the creeps.
Mr. Moneypennies: Oooooohhhh shiz! Lovin’ da heat Lynch man!
Lynch: I am very close to wiping you all out.
Sal: Shush! Shush! You’re just getting warmer..
Phil: Ooo..his chest is toasty. Although its hard to concentrate when you’ve got your dick in my back, Karab.
Karab: Sorry, but I too want the heat of champions!
Billy: Ach..nothin’ like heat..
Mr. Moneypennies: Shiz that’s toasty..
Phil: It’s odd, because Robbie just gives off an aura of ice.
Phil looks back at Robbie, standing next to Mr. Dibbley who is content rolling on the near-frozen metal chirping happily, standing still with his arms folded.
Sal: It looks like he’s about to do something..but I don’t know what..
Robbie narrows his eyes.
Dave: Is he going to..kill us?
The mercenaries remain silent. Robbie lifts his leg, and quickly puts it down, a small smile going over his face. Lynch retches and dives beneath the mercenaries, who turn around, groaning in disgust. Robbie simply chuckles.
Sal: NASTY! NASTY!
Karab: HOLY MOTHER!
Mr. Dibbley: DEAR GOD!
That Other Random Guy: MY NOSTRILS STING!
Billy: THAT STINKS!
Brick falls to his knees, looking to the sky.
Brick: BURNS THE EYEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!
Robbie sniggers loudly.
Dave: Robbie, man, you have mass destruction in your pants!
Will: Oh yeah, that was very homosexual!
Dave: YOU’RE very homosexual!
Phil leans a hand on a nearby railing and quickly goes to pull it off, only to find it stuck thanks to a combination of freezing metal and sweat. Phil turns to his arm andkeeps shaking it.
Phil: HOW FUCKING COLD IS IT?!??!
Phil places his foot on the railing, pulling back as hard as he can to no avail.
Phil: JESUS! HELP!
A blinding flash appears and Jesus Christ stands before them, staring near Phils hand and shooting a beam of concentrated heat from his eyes before vanishing in another flash. Phil removes his hand easily and curls his fingers.
Phil: …Cool.
Sal sighs and shakes himself, only to hear a clinking. His eyes widen and he clutches between his legs, squeezing.
Sal: Oh, crap. I think my balls have frozen!
Billy: Seriously?
Sal squeezes harder.
Sal: Yep, definitely not yielding..feels good, though.
Billy narrows his eyes and steps back.
Billy: I hope you’re not getting ideas. I know we’ve been trapped here a long time, but I am not toasting your testicles!!
Sal: I wasn’t asking to you!
Maurice: Why aye, lads, can we stop with tha ball-fondling? Making me an’ Moe uneasy here.
Will: Can we stop being tremondously homosexual? My balls refuse to yield, but even now they regret staying strong!
Phil: Your balls are as strong as lollipop sticks!
Will: Be quiet, you round-headed peasant! My balls have topped many more exotic women than a sugar glider!
Phil: For your information, it was rape!
Billy: Same for ol’ Bob, eh?
Bob: It’s not rape all the time..
His eyes glass over.
Bob: …Not all the time..
Dave: Aw..see? Now Bobs emotional! Rape isn’t alright when it’s female on male, capiche?
Bob shivers.
Bob: TENTACLES!!
The whole elevator erupts in cheers.
Dave: HE SAID THE LINE!!
Vince: WELL DONE, BOB!!
Everyone turns to Lynch silently. Lynch stands there, arms folded, before narrowing his eyes and nodding silently in approval. Vince, That Other Random Guy and Maurice lift Bob onto their shoulders.
Mercenaries: BOB! BOB! BOB! BOB!
Mr. Dibbley: He is truly thy hero!
Lynch: Alright, calm down, elevators nearly there.
That Other Random Guy drops Bob, who screams and lands on Vince. Maurice shrugs and walks away. Notably, the room was becoming lighter as extreme cold had led to a thick covering of ice across metal and concrete, claiming it for its own. In fact, as the elevator reaches the bottom of the shaft, the room seems to be overcome by a blue haze, a byproduct of such extreme cold in a metal room. Much like the Snowfield, the mercenaries squint, finding it difficult to see much in front of them. The ice smeared across the metal simply compounds and reflects of the metal, making simple seeing a chore.
Sal: I see…WHITE!
Jericho: THAT’S ALL I SEE! IT’S SO FUCKING COLD IN HERE!
Frank: My god, it’s so cold, it’s visible!
Dean: Ehhh..Lench sehr?
Lynch: Dean..why do yousound retarded?
Lynch squints around, looking for Dean.
Lynch: No use. MEN! GOGGLES!
Lynch fumbles for his goggles in his ammo belt and pulls them out of a satchel, wrapping them around his head. The haze seems to clear, but now he can see that none of the mercenaries have bothered putting their goggles on, instead using the tried and tested method of walking around with arms out.
Phil: MARCO!
Maurice: POLO!
Phil turns around and slams into Vince.
Phil: DAMMIT VINNIE! WATCH IT!
Vince: Why don’t you watch it?!
Phil: If I could see you, I would deck you!
Vince: If I could see you, I’d bite your arm off!
Jericho: If I could see either of you, I would headbutt you!
Mr. Dibbley: SEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!
Dean: Helthp?
Lynch: Dean..have you licked the container?!
Dean: …..Yeth.
Lynch: ..WHY?!
Dean: Thoughth it conthained popthicthes.
Dean stands there, tongue firmly stuck to the door of one of four metal containers erected two apiece on the left and right of the room. Lynch sighs and stomps over, grabbing Dean around the waist.
Lynch: This is going to really FUCKING hurt, got it?
Dean: Yeth..
Phil: Uhhh..Lynth? Lithhle help?
Lynch: DAMMIT NOLASTNAME!! DID YOU LIKE THE CONTAINER?!?!?!
Sal: Thith noth a good thime to thalk?
Lynch: ALL OF YOU! STOP! NOW!!
The random scuttering of feet stops.
Dave: I see..blood!
That Other Random Guy: Jesus Dave! Don’t shut your eyes THAT tight!
Dave: Too late. Although I do have to say this hurts like a fucking bitch.
Mr. Dibbley: Lads, it would help if we all closed our eyes and followed a leader. Or maybe even chipped the ice away.
Will: This ain’t gonna involve my super hips and Karabs shield, is it?
Karab: You are not touching Patel again!
Robbie: Bloody hell, you named your shield?
Karab: Yes…Patel is a beautiful name for a shield.
Will: Everythings a shield for you, pansy!
Deans screams suddenly pierce the air, wailing in agony. Lynch dusts off his hands as Dean dances on the spot, rubbing his tongue.
Dean: MAHHHHHHHHHHH THONGUE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THHHHHHUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKK MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!
Lynch: Yeah yeah..keep crying..Alright, Nolastname?
Phil: Yeah?
Lynch: Ti—Are you free from it?
Phil: Yes..
Lynch: How?
Phil: I smell Frank.
Sal: That’s my freedom too, the acid from his stench melted the ice..
Mr. Dibbley: Uh..I’ll say..I think he melted my goggles..
Lynch sighs and turns to the door, only to trip over a fallen bundle.
Lynch: WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT—Oh, Frank, so it IS you..is everything alright?
Frank groans loudly and gets to his knees, burping out a spark of electricity which hits Bill in his face, causing his stubble to burn to a crisp and fall of his face.
Bill: THIS AIN’T FUNNY! I’LL BE HAIRLESS IF THIS CONTINUES!!
Will: Awww..Bill? You ain’t hit puberty yet?
Bill: Says you!
Will: I didn’t HIT puberty, I took the bitch hostage, I’ve got the forest around the redwood, son.
Silence.
Dave: Dude, I don’t want to hear about your hairy balls.
Mr. Dibbley: Me neither, chap.
Lynch: Right, fuck this, can everyone see now?
Mercenaries: AYE!
Brick: Uhh..I wasn’t given the glass thingies.
Lynch: SCHMICKER! YOU NEVER GOT GOGGLES?!?!?
Brick: I did, but I used ‘em to fish.
Lynch: …FISH?!
Brick: Sunk like a pigs turd, Lynchy.
Lynch storms forward, grabbing Brick in a headlock and slams him into the blast doors, knocking him unconscious, approaching a keypad under the Keycard Reader.
Lynch: BASTARDS! MOVE!
Bob: Ssshhh..you guys hear that?
Vulcan Ravens Voice: I’MMA FIRIN MAH GUN!!
That Other Random Guy: Oh great, we’re about to face an angry shamanistic muscular black guy. This is going to fucking hurt.
Billy: I have a feeling it will.
Sal: It’s a good day to..LIVE!
Sal takes several steps backwards.
Sal: GO GET ‘EM GUYS!! GOOD LUCK!! OO-AHH MERCENAHH!!
Billy spins around, grabs Sal by his collar and shoves him forward into the line, right into Maurices back. Maurice growls and turns around, looking down into Sals eyes.
Sal: ..Parley?
Maurice grabs Sal by his arms and legs, lifts his leg and uses his torso to shine his boot before throwing him down to the ground.
Sal: …No Parley?..
Maurice cricks his neck in preparation. Phil gives a deep breath in and out. Jericho rubs his hands together out of nervousness and adrenaline, while Dean and Karab are squatting behind Karabs shield, mumbling amongst themselves.
Vince: I will become one with myself, and defeat that gigantic bastard.
Dave: I will become one with my gun, and defeat that huge fucker.
Robbie: I will become one with violence, and defeat that massive cunt.
Bob: I will become one with my feet, and run the hell away from that big thing.
That Other Random Guy: I follow Bob for eternity.
Lynch simply shakes his head.
Lynch: Alright, when I shout “OPEN!” you guys are going to open your eyes, right?
Mercenaries: RIGHT!
Bill: Maybe.
Lynch: So that’s a yes, Bill?
Billy: That is a yes on Bills behalf.
Bill: I never sai--
Billy swings his right fist backwards and catches Bill in the gut, winding him.
Bill: MOTHER OF SNUFF!!
Lynch: Thanks, Scot.. Alright..code..one seven..zero..seven! HERE WE GO!
With a hiss and a spattering of ice across the line of mercenaries, the doors part in the middle, opening up a damn-near white abyss before their eyes. They hiss, and some of the smarter mercenaries pull their ski masks out from their belts and jam them over their faces. Lynch puts goggles over his eyes and mask and slaps his cheeks.
Lynch: ALRIGHT! HERE WE GO! THE BIG ONE!
Dave: Big one?
As soon as the words leave Daves lips, a vicious sound rattles the air: The sound of a motor turning and thousands of pieces of metal clashing off concrete and steel, followed by the deathly rattle of bullet casings onto ice.
That Other Random Guy: ….About that, I have a doctors note saying I should stay away from guns.
Dean: …Same here.
Frank: And me.
Vince: Me too.
Mr. Dibbley: Don’t forget me.
Jericho: Me as well.
Lynch: LOOK! MOVE! NOW! OPEN! OPEN! OPEN!
The mercenaries groan amongst themselves, shuffling their feet hesitantly. Lynch sighs and fires his assault rifle at their feet. Dean, Frank, Phil, Karab, Vince, Bill and Brick scream, dancing to avoid the bullets. Lynch slides the magazine out and slips another one into the chamber, locking it.
Lynch: I’LL AIM FOR YOUR HEADS IF YOU DON’T MOVE!
The mercenaries begrudgingly tighten the straps of their rifles across their bodies and slowly march forward, muttering curses under their breath as they pass the boundary into the large warehouse.
Much like the hall, the walls and floor were coated in thick ice, although footsteps were just discernable on the floor. Notably, there were metal containers stacked two-high and two-across in four rows in front of them, the only difference to the pattern being a two-high and one-across stack of crates across the eastern and western walls, presumably leading to the back of the Warehouse in a similar pattern. The mercenaries glanced upwards: Amongst the frozen lights hanging by iced chains, black birds flew randomly, pecking their wings and at the cold metal, emitting a vicious cry every few seconds: Ravens.
Billy: Great, so we come all this way for a fight and now I’m Bill Oddie on Birdwatching.
Lynch: Shut up.
Frank: Alright, here’s the big question: Where the fucks the fight?
The mercenaries level their eyes to the horizon and watch as a metal container on the second row, barely visible, becomes engulfed in sparks as a vicious motor sound fills the air. After a few seconds, the sound and sparks cease, and the container resembles swiss cheese: Filled full of holes and looking much worse for wear, considering the hundreds of bullets that just pounded it. Jericho himself decides to step forward and tilt his head, examining the container. Seeing the damage, he turns to the mercenaries.
Jericho: FUCK!! DID YOU SEE THAT?!
Mercenaries: Yep.
Jericho: YOU HAVE TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!! WHAT GUN COULD DO THAT?!?!
Frank: A gun torn off a military helicopter?
Dean: Yeah, that sounds right.
Jericho: THIS COULDN’T GET ANY WORSE!!
The mercenaries eyes widen. Jericho looks around. Everyone is standing there, frozen and pale.
Jericho: What am I—He’s behind me, isn’t he?
Jericho looks down at the floor as a shadow engulfs him. He sighs and leans a hand behind him, running his hand up flesh stretched taut over muscles chiselled by years of precise and intense training in the Alaskan cold. Jericho sighs and turns around, coming face-to-face, or rather, face-to-gut, with the towering shaman Vulcan Raven.
Jericho: …I think I just voided my bowels.
Karab: I already have.
Sal: Sweet baby Jesus.
The gigantic form of Raven walks forward, and Jericho runs backwards, slipping onto Maurice, who weakly catches Jericho, who even himself is demoralized by the size of his giant black opponent, shamanistic tattoos and all. The tattoo of a tribal raven on his head bore down on the mercenaries as he stood over them and looked down at each of them.
Raven: Hello mercenaries. Nice to see you arrive from the future.
The mercenaries open their mouths to scream, but quickly shut them and look at eachother, confused.
Sal: Did he say future?
Bob: How does he know?
Raven: I see…everything.
Frank: …….You see my penis?
Raven: SHUT UP! If you turn back now, I will not harm you. If you advance, I shall cold-bloodedly murder you all.
Lynch: I’m sorry Raven, bu--
Lynch looks around, only to find that every other mercenary has left the room so quickly they left scuff marks on the floor. Lynch sighs and runs his hand across his face.
Lynch: Fucking cowards..
Raven: CHOOSE YOUR DESTINY! Turn and walk out, or fight against me!
Lynch: Can’t I fight with you!
Raven: I SEE YOUR FUTURE! YOUR DESTINY! YOU ARE HERE TO PROTECT MY FOE!
Lynch: Oh. I see what you mean.
Raven: You will fight against me?!?!?!?!?!
Lynch: With. Fucking. Pleasure.
Raven: A BRAVE FOE WITH GUTS!! But soon, I will see your guts personally!!
Lynch: So? Who cares? How the fuck do you train anyway, you giant cunt?
Raven: You know of the World Eskimo-Indian Olympics?
Lynch: Not even a little.
Snakes Voice: He must be a real threat in the Muktuk eating contest!!
Raven: QUIET!!
Sound of pattering feet.
Lynch: He is right. But there is another event I excel at. It is called the “Ear Pull”. It is an event where two opponents pull each others ear while enduring the harsh cold. It tests physical as well as spiritual strength.
Silence.
Lynch: …You wanna pull each others ears?
Raven: The form is different but the spirit is the same.
Lynch: No, it isn’t. Pulling ears would be a physical contest after which we shake hands. What we’re done is the “Ultra Violent Beating Contest.”
Raven: Then ours shall be a glorious battle!
Lynch nods and turns around: The blast doors have slammed shut, but Lynch pounds violently on them with his fists.
Lynch: ASSHOLES!! HELP ME!!
The doors part slightly and Franks arm waves out.
Franks voice: Good luck!
Lynch turns and grabs Franks hand, twisting it a few hundred degrees and causing a large snap to fill the room. His hand dangles limply, giving a small, timid thumbs up.
Franks Voice: Love you too..
Frank pulls out his hand and the doors shut. Lynch turns around to Raven, who gives a small “Bring it on” motion with his right hand, a pearly grin running across his large, well-fed face. Lynchs face looks crestfallen, but seeing the arrogance of his opponent, he narrows his eyes and gives a deep, gutteral cry, pounding his chest and ripping off his fatigues and combat vest once more, throwing them to the ground and pointing at Raven with a determined look.
Lynch: I’ve met men like you day in, day out, who walk around and think that because they win the Cheeseburger-eating contest they can walk around thinking they are some massive force to be contended with. You can stand there and claim your weight-training is best, and claim you will destroy me. You probably could in one sweep of a hand. You can stand tall and mighty, claiming that your shamanistic visions give you the probability of losing, which happens to be zero. You can look down at me and grin as if I’m nothing. Maybe I’m not. I’m just a Coach for a mercenary academy out in the Middle East built for the sole purpose of churning out idiotic, mass-produced grunts at a rate just to keep the Middle East locked down for reasons you probably already know, and I have perhaps the worst, stupidest, most badly-trained recruits the academy could vomit out..But I am not going to let you threaten my men, and you had better wipe that goddamn stupid grin off your ugly face, because you have made the biggest fucking mistake a lifeform like yourself could ever make, and that mistake is that YOU ARE STANDING IN THE WAY OF MARCUS FUCKING LYNCH!!
Lynch cracks his knuckles and stomps forward towards Raven.
Coming Soon: Chapter XIV!
Unlucky 13 for the Mercenaries as they go face-to-chest with Vulcan Raven! Their toughest obstacle to date holds no visible weakness, and soaks up punishment like a sponge! Can the mercenaries overcome Raven and arrive at the Underground Lair, ready to run away from REX? Can Lynch pound Raven into submission? Will Frank discover the wonders of personal hygiene? Will Bob say his fabled line ever again? Tune in next time, and see Nice Biceps, Wall Of Angry Guns, and the Taco Launcher!
