Sunday, 20 February 2011

Metal Gear Mercenaries Saga II Episode II - Dawn of the Dumb

The scene opens up with a lone Humvee skidding across the sands of the Sinai Peninsula, a sand cloud trailing it as the Humvee rolls across the pale beige sands of the Sinai. In the driving seat is Sal, wearing sunglasses and obscuring his head with a black and white dogtooth-pattern Keffiyah draped around the top of his head and flowing down behind his back and over his shoulders. In the passengers seat beside him, squashed into the seats with his hands..flippers on his lap, is none other than Mr. Dibbley, standing on the seat with a seatbelt draped over him and a Dragunov SVD sniper rifle draped over his feet.

Mr. Dibbley : So, back to the grindstone.

Sal: Penguin dude, you’re a lucky motherfucker. I’d kill to be put on sniper duty.

Mr. Dibbley: Really?

Sal throws his head back, cackling loudly before shaking his head.

Sal : Fuck no! Jesus, I’m still pissed I have to drop your big, furry penguin ass off!

Mr. Dibbley : Nice to hear.

Sal: ..Awww, c’mon penguin dude, don’t be like that!

Mr. Dibbley : Sal, you are without a doubt one of the most snivelling little wretches I’ve ever had the misfortune to set my eyes upon.

Sal: …One of?!?!? Oh, Dibbley! You DO like me!

Mr. Dibbley gives a small, irritated growl as a lone watchtower starts to unfold over the horizon, its metal struts sand-blasted into a color mixture of rust and yellow, the top-box almost obscured in the sands by how much time and the elemental forces have battered the metal and wood into submission.

Sal : There we go! Your old outpost! Halfway between Port Said and Beale does it feel?

Mr. Dibbley : I might actually shoot you.

Sal: C’mon penguin du--

Mr. Dibbley : Call me dude one more time and so help me, Sal, I will peck your eyes out!

Sal: Woah there, mister angry mutated Emperor Penguin! Eesh, aren’t the people who speak Queens English supposed to be jolly old tuxedo-wearing chimney-sweep hiring fun guys?

Mr. Dibbley turns his head sideways, glaring at Sal who simply shrugs.

Mr. Dibbley : I will be watching you from a distance, Sal. Remember that when you leave your mansion.

Sal : Awwwww, c’mon dude! I was just joking!

Sal breaks to a halt, sending a curtain of sand spraying upwards as he slides under the shadow of the watchtower. Mr. Dibbley hops over the jeeps door before opening it and leaning in, taking the SVD under his right flipper and starting to walk across the scorching sands. Sal watches as Mr. Dibbley reaches a large rusted ladder extending towards the top-box, turning around and staring at him.

Mr. Dibbley : I will be watching you, Sal. No matter where. No matter when.

Sal gulps slightly as Dibbley turns around, starting his comical, difficult climb up the ladder.

Sal : He can’t kill me! I’m special!..I think. I hope the others are awake because….I think he really is going to fucking murder me!

Mr. Dibbley stops halfway up the ladder, his head twisting one hundred and eighty degrees with a swift crack, eyes glaring with a demonic red color at Sal before twisting around again, letting him climb up the ladder as if nothing had happened. Sal screams, quickly reversing away.


As Sal begins his drive back home, the rest of the mercenaries are either asleep or plain unconscious. Inside the Lamb and Flag, its once-clean white walls and polished wood fixtures and skirting boards now sprayed with blood, vomit, tears, sweat and cheap alcohol. Frank Daniels is sitting on a chair in front of a table, head in his arms on the table. After a few, half-interrupted snores, Frank yawns and stretches his arms, cracking his elbows and shoulders as he raises his head, looking around the chaotic room.

Frank : ..Ahhhh..that was a good sleep..

Dick: Not for me.

Franks vision starts to unblur as he glances around, peeling a beer mat off of his drool-covered face and throwing it onto the table: Several other mercenaries are also asleep within the Lamb and Flag, a side-effect of the wild drinking the night before. Dick is standing behind the bar, thick-set bags under his pale eyes as he polishes a glass tankard with a dirty cloth. He looks at Frank, growling. Frank gives a nervous laugh before looking around once more. Jericho yawns from somewhere in the building, sitting up and hitting his head off the ceiling.

Jericho : FUCK!

Jericho looks over the side of the long light fixture in the middle of the ceiling, looking down at the floor and tables below.

Jericho : ..How the fuck did I get up here?

A lone chicken clucks, pecking at the shards of peanuts on the floor below him. Phil slowly sits up from the floor beside the table below Jericho, cracking his lower back as he does and throwing several blue rubber hoops off of his body and arm.

Phil : Fucking drunken hoopla.…….Woah…Where the fuck did the chicken come from?

Steve, who was laying under Phils table with the cushioned maroon seat of a stool beneath his head, rolls out, clutching a policemans baton covered in glitter.

Steve : Wowzies! I got a beaty stick!

Jericho : …Fucking hell..

Jericho yawns, rubbing his eyes. Billy, who was laying in a pool of beer and spit on the floor directly beneath the bar, slowly sits up, pulling his skin free from the sticky linoleum, rubbing his bare back and looking down, noticing he’s only wearing a pair of white boxer shorts.

Billy : Who the fuck stole my clothes?! And..these aren’t even my boxers!! What the FUCK?!?!

Frank: Billy, man..You’re only wearing underwear..


Frank : The fact that--

Billy snatches up an empty bottle of Budweiser laying next to him, hurling it at Frank who screams, ducking and allowing the bottle to smash off the wall to his right.

Dick : OI! Don’t make me get the hose!


Dick: No, Maurice. First warning.

Maurices Voice : ..Hose..

Billy : Not even my own goddamn underwear!! What the FUCK?!?!

A sheep gives a deep bleat from beside Billy, trotting past him and licking up the spilt salt from tequilas near him. Billy glares at the sheeps rear quarters, noticing its wearing a pair of grey and blackl-striped boxers.

Billy : That sheep…has my boxers…

Frank: Woah, what were we doing last night?

Dick : You brought in the sheep and chicken from a farm out in the fucking Sinai a few miles away, while drunk, and brought them back, while drunk. Jericho bet Billy he couldn’t wrestle a sheep naked. He managed to. But Billy dressed the sheep up in his clothes, then proceeded to punch it out. Jericho, you were just swinging from lights. Frank, you drank all the melted candle wax. A lot of other stuff happened, but its stuff for between me and my counsellor. Oh yeah, and Bob said he was going to disown you for the ten thousandth time after you gave him a lapdance.

Phil : Frank, dude, what the FUCK?!

Steve: Poor Bob..

Frank: Man..I have cut out the tequila shooters..

Dick: Could you assholes please get the hell out? I don’t appreciate you all drinking until five in the morning and sleeping here.

Frank: ..What time is it?

Dick : It’s six in the morning.

Frank: …Wooaaahhh…

Jericho: So, shall we get an early start on this evenings drinking? Gin and tonic please, Dick!


Jericho: ALRIGHT! Fucking hell..

Jericho slides off of the light fixture, carefully clasping his hands to the metal and swinging his legs down to face the floor before dropping down, brushing his half-unbuttoned shirt free from peanut shells.

Jericho: Well, I’m going to get some breakfast at Dean and Karabs. Anyone coming?

A loud, tired droll moaning goes through the pub.

Jericho : More for me!

Jericho claps his hands together, walking out of the double doors and slamming them shut. Phil pats the pockets of his jeans.

Phil: Fuck..anyone seen my credit card?

Dick: No.

Billy: ..Nope

Steve : NO!

Phil: Haha. Really guys, my credit cards gone..

Frank : Phil, where did you have it last?

Phil closes his eyes tightly.

Phil: ….I bought drinks..went out…came back……There’s a gap somewhere.

Frank: So it’ll be outside?

Phil: I didn’t drop my pants outside, drunken monkey! I think I would’ve known if I did!

Dick : You did and you pissed on the chicken.

Phil : …Damn, I guess we got really shitfaced last night!

Frank: You’ll be surprised what happens when people get drunk.

Frank shrugs, rubbing his eyes in a feeble attempt to revitalize himself. As he does, A knock raps out throughout the building, causing a silence to fill the air. The source of the knock isn’t visible.

Dick: ..Hello?

Lynchs Voice : I’m here!

The knocking noise occurs again, followed by a splintered cracking sound as a wooden panel gives way to the left of the bar, allowing the naked Marcus Lynch to step out, rubbing his hands free from wood and plaster.

Lynch: ..Alright. Where’s my clothes, and what was I doing inside a wall?

Bill: You guys think that’s bad?

Bill rolls out from under a table, holding a bloody knife in one hand and a clear, cellophane bag containing a human kidney in the other.

Bill: Alright, whose kidney was I planning to sell on the black market?


Bill looks down at the kidney, suddenly grinning.

Bill: …Hehe, awesome! I’m eating tonight!

The mercenaries slowly turn their heads to Bill, eyebrows raised.

Bill: Woah! I mean, I’m selling it, not eating his kidney! Although maybe with some onions..

Lynch: Soldier, you have some serious fucking problems.

Bill: Says the guy who woke up naked inside a wall!

Lynch: It probably has a great explanation to it. Right, Dick?

Dick: No.

Ivan, sitting in a distant corner, finally awakens due to the noise, his head slowly raising from a plate covered in a greyish-green goo. He groans, rubbing his face and bristled chin free from goo.

Ivan: …Boiled frogs legs???!

Ivan shrugs, leaning his head down and starting to crunch both bone and boiled, tasteless, salty flesh.

Ivan: Mmm…boiled frogs legs..Used to live off of zese..

Lynch : …I am not going anywhere near THAT guy!

Ivan raises his head, a frogs webbed foot dangling loosely from his chin which he quickly swallows with a wet slurping sound. Lynch winces, shuddering.

Steve : Ivaaannn! I bought you those!

Ivan : Cheers Steve!

Phil : Anyone? Anyone at all have a credit card with my fucking name on it?!

Lynch: No!

Frank : Just check outside, will ya?

Phil grumbles, rising to his feet and turning around, exiting the bar and slamming the doors beind him. He looks down at the scattered sand below his feet which is dashed with blood and sweat. Getting on his hands and knees, he slowly starts to move his hands deep around the sand. He grasps something, pulling it out.

Phil: ..Human tooth.

Phil throws the tooth behind him, reaching in further, unbeknownst to himself that Courtney has walked to his side and is looking over his shoulder in curiosity.

Courtney : …So, you’re finally housebroken?

Phil : ..FUCK!

The surprise of the sudden feminine voice sends him skidding forward across the sand on his face, his teeth grinding against the pavement as he does. He rolls onto his back, quickly sitting up and spitting out a stream of sand.

Courtney : Wow, I guess I was wrong!

Phil : Don’t play with me. Where’s my credit card?!

Courtney: Paranoid, eh? Well, what would I do with one? I mean, we get cash IN HAND, meaning that Wolf and …….Oh.

Phil : Oh? That’s a bad ‘oh’, isn’t it? ISN’T IT?!?!?

Courtney laughs nervously, turning around and rubbing the back of her head. Phil slowly gets to his feet, eyeing her cautiously.

Phil : Courtney..Where. is. My. MONEY??!?!?

Courtney laughs, turning around and facing him.

Courtney : Well, Wolf has a credit card. Butimsureitsjus--

Phil: What?

Courtney: Yeah, I mean, I’m sure I didn’t hear the words “Blackmail” and “Revenge!”

A small silence fills the air.

Phil : Ohhhh shit.

Courtney: Phil, it’s nothing, alright? It’s just money!

Phil: Courtney. It’s not just money. When I was at Shadow Moses, I kind of did what everyone dreams of doing: Robbing their boss blind without him knowing and getting away with it while simultaneously condemning said boss to a gruesome death.

Courtney clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

Courtney : That’s….not a dream I’ve had.

Phil: Yeah, well, I have. Look, that card holds an amount of money. A LARGE amount of money. Want to know what I’d do if I found out someone had taken said money?

Courtney: Ooo! Ooo! I know! You would violently pull out their intestines and strangle them with their own guts!!

Phil : ….Nooooo. I would fucking CRY!

Wolfs Voice : Yes, This credit card will fund a trip to Hawaii, my sweet sugary Spetsnaz!

Phil : ..Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh double shit.

Courtney: Look, just ask her nicely, be prepared to apologi--


Frank walks out from behind Courtney, stretching his arms and smelling the crisp desert air with a renewed zeal for life that only a half-drunken man could have.

Frank : Yo, Phil, looking kind of pale there!

Phil : Yes. Yes I am.

Frank: Why don’t you go to the Dog and Handgun and get that color back? I’m going to go and make Mantis scream! OH YEAH!

Frank hipthrusts in Phils direction, causing him to scream and cover his eyes. Frank simply grins, nodding and walking up the street.

Phil: …Hey! I can face ANYTHING while blind!

Courtney shakes her head, opting to grasp his right wrist and start dragging him up the street.

Courtney: That’s it, you’re going to face her! But first..PANCAKES!

Phil screams as he’s dragged up the street, only for Billys head to ominously lean out of the window to the right of the Lamb and Flags doors, watching them.

Billy : ….A large amount of money, eh? Hmmm…Time to go home and get myself a knife, methinks..

Bills Voice: Hey, Billy, want a kidney?

Steve: I’ll give you twenty dollars!



Al : Now, as you both know, I have called you here to discuss very important radio communications deep in enemy territory. It is a supply cache containing very special items. VERY special items. Now, two other enemies are going to intercept this cache, but both of you, the greatest mercenaries of all, are going to get it first..Understand?

Inside the Half Moon, the wooden chairs are all laid back-first on the five wooden tables dotted throughout the small floor of the rustic pub. Al has his arms folded, a brown blazer over his left shoulder and a seriously grave look across his smooth face as he stands behind the bar, his body obscured by various taps of beer. Standing in front of the bar are none other than Will Studlin and Vince LaMarr. Will looks completely underwhelmed, his nose upturned as he eyes his surroundings with disgust, while Vince simply looks tired, his hair and beard messed and matted to his head.

Vince: … want us to intercept a truck carrying American goodwill food supplies?

Al : YES! That is what is required of you both! With this shipment, I can finally force Dick to fuck off competing with me! People will arrive, want to eat, and then I will ply them with such powerful liquor that they will have no choice but to constantly visit, instead of just those bastard Praying Mantis military..bastards!

Will: …Alright, but you are still paying me with free access to the condom machine which has Viagra, right?

Al: And an extra five hundred dollars on top of it! So, you’ll accept?

Will : You dragged us in off the street, you bald-headed fucking lunatic! Literally! WITH A ROPE!

Al: Hey, the lasso is a tool that has been used for centuries. Besides, I didn’t need to use it on Vince!

Vince : Because you asked politely….and did offer me some…..medicinal herbs for my…….aches and pains.

Al: Exactly! Weed for Vince and Viagra for you! Now, what do you both say? It’s simple, exciting, and you get to kill an American as well! Who could say no?!

Vince : We’re both American.


Vince and Will look at eachother, before shrugging their shoulders in unison.

Vince: Show us the way to the car we’ll be driving.

Al claps his hands together, yelling in joy.

Al: Finally! The Half Moon will rise over the infidels!

Will: Woah, don’t get too excited! I’m just doing this to keep the tickler on the Raven!

Vince: Will, you do have some serious sexual issues.

Will: I know..I’m not getting any at this moment!

Al : Alright, move it, move it..God knows the others might’ve heard about it..


Dick: So, it’s that simple. Ram American truck, steal food sent from friends, family and government, and return here like rats. What could be more difficult?

Maurice and Moe are standing in the kitchen, arms folded as Dick addresses them.

Maurice : Fetching the moon?

Dick: Maurice. It’s going to be fucking easy!

Moe: You say that Dick, but will you be tagging along?

Dick: No.


Dick : Alright, easy for ME. Not for you two. But how difficult can it be to ram a truck off the road, neutralize the driver and bring home the undamaged cargo?

Maurice growls, folding his arms.

Moe: I think what Maurice would say if he wasn’t thinking of turning your spine into an accordion is: “Are you fucking nuts?”

Dic : C’mon guys! We do this, and the bastards come for eating! God knows they haven’t since we started serving stuffed rat! We need that money, and to get money, we need actual food!

Moe : Hey, we all thought they’d love it!

Maurice: Yeah, but stuffing it with cough drops and peanuts? Really?!

Moe shrugs.

Dick: Look, guys. Just go and you’ll get paid. Alright? Hell, it means a day out of the kitchen. So go on. DO IT!

Moe: …Good pay?

Dick: One thousand each if you get it back. Good enough pay?

Maurice and Moe grumble, sidling out of the kitchen door and into the narrow alley between the Lamb and Flag and ReLoaded. Dick shuts the door behind them as Maurice pulls out a pair of keys from his jeans pocket, sighing.

Moe: Well, at least it gets us out..

Maurice: Fuck that noise, lad. I don’t wanna be chasing no fooking truck all day.

Moe: Hey, it’s one thousand!

Maurice: Yeah, but how many will be chasing it, kid?

Moe: Well, it sounds like its just us, so it won’t be too hard, will it?


Allura: So, yeah! It would be so cool if you guys could, like, serve American food with American ingredients instead of homemade garbage!

Brick and Jon are sitting in purple leather chairs directly in front of the strippers catwalk within the Dog and Handgun. The lights are off, the room is dark, and the blue, purple, red and yellow lights are still crossing and dashing the floors and walls despite no-one being inside. Allura, the stripper, is busy sitting on the edge of the catwalk, wearing a red silk dressing gown, a smouldering cigarette between her plump, red lips.

Jon: Sounds like a plan, Brick?

Brick: Yeah, I guess..But where would we get barbecue sauce from ‘round here?!

Allura: I heard that there was some shipment coming in. A truck of goodwill or something. Dick was talking about it!

Brick: Dick?! Boys threatenin’ something’!

Jon: So we go..take this shipment for ourselves..and PROFIT!!

Allura : Sure.

Brick: So we go..take the shipment..take the truck..bring it back..cook up and make a profit?

Jon : YES!

Brick: Now hold on a second, I like to think my own quality moonshine is still selling well!

Jon: Yes, but can we cook something without twice the recommended daily dose of nicotine?!

Brick: NEVER! We get constant customers because of it!

Jon: We only get three constant customers not looking for booze or poon, and that’s those mercenaries actually working!

The door to the Dog and Handgun suddenly flies open and standing before them is a young man, with pale skin and heavy bags under his eyes. Despite being clothed thick in desert camouflage-print Kevlar and topped with a dark black Kevlar vest, his arms are shaking visibly.


Brick: Let me cook you up something!


Brick: Squirrel on a stick with the funky powder it is!

Allura: Brick, baby! Forget it! Just go get the supplies so we can start turning over a profit!

Brick: Dammit woman, after I serve our friend the nicotine-covered squirrel and charge him money!

Jim screams loudly, gnawing at the bar desperately as Brick rushes into the kitchen. Jon rushes over, slapping his head with a rolled up newspaper.



Courtney and Phil stand outside the wooden door to ReLoaded. Courtney gives a satisfied groan, rubbing her stomach.

Courtney: Mmm..pancakes! Wasn’t that grea—Sorry.

Phil: No problem. I mean, it’s good spending your money on pancakes and leaving me with water. I’ve done it before.

Courtney: Really?

Phil : ..Are you serious? Of course not! I'm fucking starving!

Courtney shrugs, opening the door and causing a small, brass bell beside the door to give a dusty ring throughout the store. Wolf, who is sitting at the counter, looks up, grinning when she sees Courtney and waves her jet-black hair out of her face.

Wolf : Hey, you’re back!

Courtney: Yush! And I brought a friend!

Wolf looks somewhat confused, still smiling as Courtney nods at the door. The moment Phils head peers around the corner, Wolfs face looks crestfallen, her mouth slowly contorting into an angry sneer.

Phil : …ehehehe…hello..?

Wolf : ….Hello. PHIL.

Wolf stomps onto her feet, the chair she was sitting on somehow spontaneously combusting. Phil gulps.

Phil : ..Uhh..hey..Wolf…You have….a credit….card…which belongs to--

Wolf : Me. Finders keepers.

Phil:…..Dammit…...Uhh..I’m….sorry about our….little…

Wolf: You want to apologize since you dumped me and you feel sad? HOW SWEET! Not really. You want the card? You’re going to be my bitch and do what I say for today. Or you won’t see a fucking penny.

Phil : …..Uhh…

Wolf: Starting now, bitch.

Phil : …I prefer the term “Slave”!

Wolf: For one, cut that crap.

Phil: Yes’m.

Wolf: The only way you will be free is if you either forego your love of money, or you complete the tasks I will set you. Understand?

Phil: Yes’m.

Wolf: Good. You learn quickly. Now, I have to go see if my little Spetsy-wetsy has woken up yet, and give him some food which real men….uhh…

Phil : Bacon?

Wolf: SHUT UP!!! ..Uh…bacon!

Phil rolls his eyes.

Phil: What do you want me to do?

Wolf: Your majesty.

Phil: …Huh?

Wolf: You are to refer to me as “Your Majesty”, or just plain “Queen”.

Courtney: Well! I see you are both going to have fun, so I’ll just go outside and practice my shooting!

Wolf : Yeah! Have fun!

Courtney waves goodbye to Phil, who gives a deeply sarcastic grin back. Courtney shrugs nonchalantly, walking behind the counter and sliding out of a plastic door behind the counter and to the right. Wolf looks at Phil, narrowing her eyes.

Wolf: Alright then. First task: What do you see in front of you?

Phil : An early grave?

Wolf slaps him sharply around the back of his head before pointing over his shoulder at a three tier shelf which stands against the eastern wall. Notably, the shelves are empty, the top shelf and bottom shelf detached completely from the sides of the shelf unit, instead laying on their side.

Wolf : Fix it. Now.

Phil: I need a screwdriver!

Wolf sighs, reaching into her back pocket and pulling out a cross-head screwdriver, thrusting it into his palm. He reluctantly walks forward, getting on his knees and grabbing the bottom shelf.

Phil: Where’s the screws?

Wolf : You’ll find them.

Wolf simply stands a few feet behind him, arms folded and casting a poisonous look down at him as he locates a few sawdust-covered screws, sliding the shelf into place within the slot and leaning around the left and right of the unit, screwing the shelf securely into place.

Phil: Done!

Wolf: Top one, bitch.

Phil: Charming lady.

Wolf : QUEEN.

Phil sighs and stands up, climbing onto the bottom shelf, leaning up with his screwdriver and looking around the top shelf.

Phil: Where’s the screws?!

Wolf: Somewhere.

The shelves creek.

Phil: Fucking dog rape.

The set of shelves slowly come off the floor before falling backwards. Phil screams, hanging onto the shelves rather than jumping off, and as a result hitting the floor with a violent crush, sandwiched between the floor and the shelves. Wolf laughs quietly to herself as Phil lays there, groaning.

Phil : I think I’ve severed my spinal column!

Sounds of cracking.

Phil: ..And my coccyx!

A set of feminine feet quickly patter down the stairs, thrusting the door to the left of the counter open: Tavi stands in the doorway, her large, golden eyes darting around the scene.


Phils Voice : ….Kill me..

Wolf: Phils helping us. Should we let him up?

Tavi : ….Yeah? Sure.

A loud snap is heard.


Tavi nods at Wolf and both women stroll over, squatting down and grasping the set of shelves, thrusting upwards and lifting them onto a vertical base. Phil simply lays there, blinking rapidly.

Phil: …Thanks…Ow..

Phil sits up, several loud cracks filling the air.

Phil: …Ouch…So, what now?

Wolf blinks rapidly, looking up: The top shelf is, somehow, screwed tightly into place. Seeing this, though, simply makes Wolf leer evilly.

Wolf : We need you to take stock of the Claymore mines. And yes, they’re volatile.

Phil: …Ahhhhh fuck. Can I get some dinner?

Wolf laughs loudly.

Wolf : No. Only good boys get dinner.

Phil slowly gets to his feet, cracking his back and limping off behind the counter.


In the Kebab Shop, Dean and Karab are busy behind the counter doing absolutely nothing. There is no queue, the ovens are busy wasting precious gas as the blue flames continue to burn, and Karab is busy chopping at chunks of chicken and sliding them into polystyrene trays.

Karab : Ahh..isn’t it a beautiful day?!

Dean : No. I sense bad juju approaching.

Karab: Juju! HA! Juju is a myth made by--

A bell rings near the flimsy white plastic door as it opens, revealing Dave who strolls in, whistling innocently.

Dave: Greetings to you, my good man. Now, I think I’ll have a chicken salad for my luncheon.

Dean : ..Could you sound any MORE gay?!


Karab slides a polystyrene tray across the counter. Dave slams a fist down, stopping its motion and flips it open, revealing several pieces of diced, grilled chicken breast across a mixed salad with coleslaw. He nods, flopping a few spare quarters onto the counter.

Dave: Why doesn’t Karab run this place?

Dean : Eat your shit and get out.

Dave: You’re a cunt, I hope you know that.

Dean : I do.

Dave sneers at Dean before storming out of the door.

Dean: Good riddance. To bad rubbish.

Karab : You are so witty,Dean!

Dean :Cut the sarcasm or I’ll ship your ass back to Hyderabad.

Karab : Please do. I wanted to remain a Gurkha, not get shipped here to help you handle lamb, chicken and a shitload of grease substitute!

Dean : Shut up, dammit! Don’t give away that its processed car tires and rat anus!

The bell rings again and Dean gives an irritated sigh, hissing at Karab to get him to be quiet. Karab waves it off, dropping his knife onto the chopping board tiredly as the customer enters. The young figure, with mid-length feathered brown hair and a youthful complexion with curious green eyes, slowly approaches the counter, taking a great interest in Dean who is busy reading a newspaper, ignoring the customer.

Figure: …Hello?

Dean : Welcome to Dean and Karabs Kebab Shack, place your order and get the fuck out.

Figure: …No way to talk to your brother, Dean.

Dean slowly raises his head from his newspaper, his eyes narrowed.

Dean : Oh. Fuck. No.

Standing before him…

Samuel: Dean, brother.


Samuel: Dean, did you forget me?


Karab: Dean, what’s up?

Karab turns around, looking at Samuel.

Karab: …Oh. Hello.

Samuel: Hi. We met before, didn’t we? Shadow Moses. Very cold.

Karab: …Yeah, This is actually pretty awkward.

Samuel: It is, isn’t it?


Karab: You’ll excuse him. He’s not a people person.

Samuel: I could tell.


Samuel: Not very nice Dean, is it? Nice place you’re working in, is it a change from hunting de--

Dean : One more word and I’ll cut you, bitch.

Karab: Now now, Dean, be nice for our guest! He is in our company, and we must treat him like such!

Dean: Good point! Eat your shit and get out.

Samuel : I..haven’t ordered..anything?

Karab : Come around! Please! Give us tales of how you arrived!

Dean : Karab, I am going to literally kill you in a few seconds.

Samuel: Don’t mind if I do. Dean, so good to see you.

Dean : Shut up!

Samuel: Always a charmer. So you don’t mind?

Karab: No!

Dean grumbles under his breath, ruffling his newspaper angrily and focusing on the articles.


Several clicks north-east of Beale Street, a white van emblazoned with the Lamb and Flags crest is parked on the top of a sand dune, carefully scanning the surrounding area. Maurice is clutching a pair of binoculars, swivelling his head while Moe tunes a ham radio carefully, wearing a pair of radio headphones as he listens carefully for the slightest clearing within the static.

Moe: Maur, nothings coming up.

Maurice: Are ya sure, lad?

Moe: Yeah. So either this guys wandering around with his head up his ass, or I’m not getting the right wavelength.

Maurice: Head up ass?

Moe: Head up ass.

Maurice : Hold on..HOLD ON!

Maurice leans over the wheel, resting his gut on his knees as he watches the faint outline of a dust cloud kick up ahead of them. The cloud is slowly, but surely, heading in a north-western direction, indicating that it’s heading towards Port Said.

Moe: What?

Maurice: Are their forces at the Suez, lad? Dick just said it was in this desert..


Moe throws off his headphones, fiddling with the radio and tuning into “Ride of the Valkyries” by Wagner. Maurice fires the engine up, slamming his foot down and driving down the dune. As they make haste towards the sand cloud, Moe watches as a new, second sand cloud has formed some distance behind the first. Moe grabs the binoculars from the dashboard, looking across the sand.


Sure enough, a Humvee, painted in bright blue poster paint in a desperate, feeble attempt to remain incognito, despite the paint starting to peel and crack, is visible just behind the dust cloud.


Jon: Jesus, Brick, calm down!


Jon sighs, twisting around in the passengers seat and leaning over the back, clawing at the rear seats and grasping a thick tube of metal covered with coils at the top and a battery hastily duct-taped to the bottom.


Brick: Home-made cattle prod!

Jon : This isn’t safe!!

Brick: JUST JAB HIM!!!

Jon snatches up the cattle prod, staring at it uneasily. Brick jolts to the left and Jon screams, dropping the cattle prod onto his lap. Instantly, the cattle prod goes off, sending several volts through his legs and up his body. Jon collapses rigid in the seat, twitching violently. Brick sighs, glancing at him and shaking his head.


Jon : Hnnnnn! Hnnnn! Hnnn!

Brick: Stop speaking Japanese and get the cattle prod!

Jon remains frigid as Brick pulls alongside the left of the desert-camouflage painted box truck. The rear flap of the trucks cuboid holding space flaps noisily in the wind as it accelerates, while the windows are tined black. The driver, however, notices the bright humvee pull alongside him.

Driver : What the fuck is this? Pat, get the rifle.

The passenger, a US Army soldier with a jarhead haircut and wearing desert fatigues with the jacket sleeves rolled up to his shoulders, turns and looks over the drivers head and at the humvee. He gives a small sigh.

Pat: Fucking hell..I don’t have a rifle, idiot, it’s in the back. But I do have…

Pat clicks open the dashboard, allowing the door to flop down as he pulls out a Beretta M9 pistol, pulling back the slide before turning off the safety.

Driver: That’s all you ha— SHIT! YOUR SIDE!

To the right of the van, a black humvee with a large, silver moon painted on the drivers door, pulls up to the right of the truck. Will looks to his right, grinning as he notices he’s parallel the trucks passengers side.

Will: Fucking sweet.

Pat rolls down the window, pointing the Beretta carefully at Wills head.


Vince: I can’t reach him from here, I’m not Stretch Armstrong!

Pat fires off a few shots, altered by the uneasiness of the tires upon sand, allowing them to simply hit below the humvee and into the door behind Wills.


Vince: I think it might have to do with the fact that we’re trying to rob the United States army?

Will: Oh yeah, there is that.


Will looks in the wing mirror on his humvee, noticing the Lamb and Flags white van pull behind the Armies truck. Will laughs, leaning his arm out of the window and waving mockingly at Maurice.


Maurice: Moe, shoot him.

Moe: Who?

Maurice: WILL!!

Moe : Alright!

Maurice slams into the rear of the truck, sending it jolting forward. Pat slams forward into the dashboard, dropping his Beretta.


Vince: Hold on, Will..Hold on…

Vince reaches into the back of the Humvee, pulling free a fishing rod and rolling down his own window. Carefully, Vince leans back, throwing the fishing rod back before swiftly forward. The cable and hook narrowly misses Wills head and goes out the door, latching onto some of the beige webbing stuck to the door. Vince pulls back quickly.


Will leans out the window, carefully holding the wheels with his knees as he unclicks the handle of the passengers door. Vince pulls roughly, opening the door while simulatenously snapping the fishing rod. The work is done, though, as Pat slides out of the passengers seat after the truck jolts over a small sand dune beneath the wheels, sending him flying out of the passengers seat, bouncing off of the roof of the Half Moons humvee and onto the sand on the other side. Pat rolls across the sand, looking up and getting onto his knees with his hands on his hips as the humvees and truck speed off.

Pat: Fucking bastards. Well, at least I’m alive.

Pat looks down at his hands, which have been scrubbed red raw by the impact on the sand.



Back in ReLoaded, Phil is sitting on a wooden chair in the middle of the shop floor, his arms bandaged, showing the red, blurry outlines of several bloody cuts. Wolf is busy holding her laughter, a burlap sack swaying over her shoulder while Courtney and Tavi tape his bandages in place.

Wolf: So Phil, ready for the final task?

Phil: …No. I thought cleaning the grenades was bad enough. I didn’t realise some of them lacked pins. You know the great thing about grenades, Wolf? Without pins, all you have to do is release the safety lever before it explodes. Something easy to do WHEN CLEANING THEM!

Wolf : Shut the fuck up, for fucks sake! Look, this ones easy, it’s literally just a case of loading these clips within the magazines.

Wolf walks forward, tipping the burlap sack upside down and sending several assault rifle magazines rattling off of the shop counter. Phil sighs, standing up and turning around, walking behind the counter and looking down at the magazines.

Phil : Just get me the fucking bullets.

Wolf: Be nice.

Phil: I’m doing this, aren’t I?

Wolf: You’re not being nice.

Phil : Damn right I’m not, you psychotic wanker!

Wolf : …I-i-if….th-that’s the case…Ph-Phil…..Kiss my feet, and you’ll be getting your credit card back when its not cut in half.

Phil : Are you serious?

Wolf walks over to the counter, leaning up and slamming her right foot onto it, pulling off her white sock and revealing a slender, tanned foot.

Wolf : Do it. Do it now.

Phil: I still have my dignity, dammit!

Phils brain: No you don’t.

Phil: I don’t have my sanity, either.

Phils brain: Well duh, who else would talk to their own brain?

Wolf : Do it, and get your pay. Is there anything simpler?

The door rings and opens. The women turn around and Phil looks up: Ivan is standing in the doorway, eyebrow raised.

Ivan : …Vell, zis is embarrassing.

Wolf : …..We’re..flirting.

Phil *coughbullshitcough*

Wolf: See?

Ivan: Yeahhhhh..

Phil coughs again, clearing his throat and nodding slightly at Wolf. Ivan raises an eyebrow.

Ivan : …So, Wolf..Vat are you doing?..


Ivan : But vat about ze Spetsnaz guys?

Wolf remains silent.

Wolf: It’s complicated. Ivan, please leave.

Phil slowly shakes his head.

Ivan : ..Alvight, have fun.


Ivan cackles, slamming the door shut with such force that the bell tumbles off and hits the floor with a ringing crash.

Tavi: Better repair that.

Wolf: Oh, he will.

Phil: I will not.

Wolf : Fine. Tavi, the card.

Tavi holds up the credit card in her right hand and a pair of scissors in her left, snipping them threateningly. Phil slams his fists on the counter and stands up, walking over to Tavi and simply plucking it from her hands.

Phil: Fuck that. Yoink.

Tavi glares at him angrily.

Tavi : …What are you doing?

Phil: Taking my cake and eating it.

Phil turns around, only to hear the familiar click of a guns hammer. He comes face-to-face with the barrel end of a double-barreled hunting shotgun being held by Wolf, aiming directly at his face.

Phil : ….This is pretty fucking far for revenge!

Courtney : WOAH! Wolf! Don’t!!

Wolf growls, keeping the barrels trained on Phils straight face.

Wolf : ..Not without my revenge, you son of a bitch…You broke my heart, I’ll break your face..

Phil: Literally? Damn woman, you have some fucking issues.

Courtney : Wolf, calm--

Phil: Hell, you know what? Take it.

Phil shrugs, flicking the card and hitting Wolf square in the forehead with it. Wolf lowers the shotgun, leaning down and scrambling it into her hands, laughing loudly.

Wolf : YES!! NOW, PHI--

Phil: Take it. Take the money. I don’t care. I’ve already bought a few video game consoles, a few footballs, a ball pump, some new clothes, a few new suits and..well, everything but a Ferrari. So, meh. Take it. I mean, it’ll be a blessed relief to have it off my chest. It was getting tiring hiding it all..Plus..we just don’t know what to do with a windfall when we get it. Maybe you can hack my card and refurbish the shop. I dunno. Go nuts.


Phil: Try it on someone without an ounce of dignity or sanity.

Phil leans up, spitting into the air and catching it in his mouth.

Wolf : YOU--YOU—YOU--

Phil : Ain’t she cute when she stutters? Anyway, take care, girls.

Phil flicks a thumbs up at them as he opens the door. Before he walks out, he stops, leaning down and grabbing the brass bell, tying a simple knot and fixing it back to the door before shutting it with a dull ring.

Courtney : …That was actually kinda cool.


Phil walks past the window, turning and smiling, waving goodbye as he walks past.


Wolf remains silent, looking down at the floor with her fists clenched.

Courtney : Wolf?..Is everything..alright?

Wolf simply raises her head, an oddly serene look cascading over her face.

Wolf: I’m fine. Let’s just take the money and get some stuff we want.

Tavi : But what about the plan?!

Wolf: …Soon, Tavi, but for now? We’ll just lull him into a false sense of security, and when he least expects it…..We strike.

Courtney: Jesus, I think the guy actually feels, y’know, sorry and regrets the day he dumped you? I mean, all you have to do is fuck louder and he’ll get jealous, I’m sure. He does have a soul, y’know.

Wolf : No he doesn’t. That primal being has nothing that can ever be seen as a soul.

Courtney: I dunno..a few of the guys like him well enough.

Wolf : Just wait..I’ll see if he has a heart..literally..

A loud scream is heard from outside.


Courtney: Aaaaand these things solve themselves.

Courtney grins brightly, shrugging and clapping her hands. Wolf simply shrugs.

Wolf: It’s good, but it’s not the worst that’ll happen.. So! I think I’ll go see if my Russian hunks up!

Wolf bounces behind the counter and up the stairs. Tavi and Courtney exchange confused looks.

Tavi: Dibs not slipping Prozac into her coffee.


Marcus Lynch, having now clothed himself, is standing before the bar eating beef jerky while checking his watch with great interest. Dick, bored now that Moe and Maurice have gone, simply stands at the bar, watching Lynch.

Dick: Whats up, Lynch?

Lynch : That asshole Rex Houghtons supposed to be here soon…I need to find Sal and that drunken cunt…y’know..Frank?

Dick: I’m vaguely aware of the man who single-handedly keeps me in business, yes.

Lynch: Know where either of them are?

Dick: No..Well, Franks probably giving Mantis the going over, and Sals probably doing something incredibly stupid and random.

At that exact moment, a huge rumble comes into earshot. Lynch sighs, rubbing his eyes and growling before walking out of the doors and looking north up the street: Sure enough, Sal is standing in the middle of the street, laughing merrily as a desert camouflage-painted T90 Tank, more than likely stolen from a nearby Armoury, is driving towards him. The tank almost runs over him, but Sal dives out the way, raising his arms.


The tank stops, reversing slightly and allowing Sal to get back in front as Lynch walks forward, arms folded and a vein pulsing angrily in his forehead. The tank jolts forward, but Sal dives to the right and onto his stomach, rolling onto his back and raising his arms.


The tank stops and reverses, but this time the hatch flips open and Daves head pops
out, glaring at Sal angrily.

Dave : Avoid this one you son of a--

Sal: AGAIN!!

Dave ducks down into the tank and Sal jumps to his feet, running in front of the tank. Without any warning, the tank jolts forward. Sal screams violently, eyes widening as one of the tanks treads runs onto his right foot, staying there.


Dave flips open the hatch and surfaces, raising his arms.



Dave sighs, flipping him the bird and ducking into the hatch. After a few seconds, the tank reverses off of Sals foot with a swift crunch.


He looks down at his foot, which is now flat on the floor, the bones probably nothing more than broken grit.

Lynch : Sal. Asshole. I need you to get ready, Houghtons coming. Need my second in command and third in command to role with me.


Lynch: Yeah yeah, go to the Lamb and Flag and get someone to amputate it or some shit. It’ll heal.

Lynch slaps his back, sending Sal straight down onto his face, laying there unconscious from the pain. Lynch waves off the T90 tank which simply reverses north out of Beale Street. Impatiently, Lynch heads up to the top of the street before turning left, jogging up a set of concrete steps and knocking on the wooden door of Franks bungalow.

Lynch: Open up! I know you’re in there!





Lynch takes a few steps back before flinging up his heavy boot, smashing it just above the handle. The door concaves around the handle and snaps the flimsily-constructed locking mechanism, allowing Lynch to simply and easily push it open. He slowly walks in, looking around.

Lynch: ..I hope it wasn’t locked.

Lynch grimaces to himself before walking around the leather couch: Nothing but the glass table with a half-empty glass of water on it and a few magazines. Lynch narrows his eyes, heading straight forward and pushing open the door to Franks room: Nothing in there aside from several pictures of unicorns, a set of drawers and a four-poster bed.

Lynch : ….I’ll ask about that later.

Lynch turns left, heading straight into the door of Bob and Octopus’s room. He slowly pushes it open, flicking on a light and looking down at the floor before quickly backing out.


Franks Voice : Heyyy! Lynch! Sorry, just wanted to play some..naked twister!


Franks voice: Well, Mantis got Vagina on red, and I got penis on red, so--


Bobs voice: We didn’t ask you to intrude.

Lynch: What the—ARE YOU SWINGING?!?!

Bobs Voice: Yes. Figuratively and literally--

Lynch slams the door shut, rubbing his eyes in despair.

Lynch : ONE HOUR! Meet me at the Lamb and Flag…put some fucking pants on, too, GODDAMN!!

Lynch walks forward, rubbing his eyes before looking up to the sky.

Lynch: Love, sometimes I wish those fucking PMCs had shot me..


Samuel: …And that’s how I arrived here.

Dean remains looking sullen.

Dean : …You put a tracer in my pocket, YOU CUNT??!?!?

Samuel: Quite easy, really. Surprised it still works after all these years, but I guess it works a charm.

Karab : That is quite something!

Samuel: Thanks..

Samuel takes a quick drink from a steaming mug of black coffee, nodding thankfully at Karab.

Karab: No problem.

Dean : I hate you both. Seriously. I honestly do. I want to kill both of you.

Samuel: Dean, after all the trouble we went through earlier in our lives, sticking together, finding our Dad and—

Dean : Sam, SHUT UP! Just shut up! I swear to God, I do not get paid enough for this!

Karab : We get paid for doing nothing.

Dean: ….That’s beside the point!

Samuel: Will you calm down, Dean? I’m here for a reason.

Dean : To drive me to my grave?

Samuel: No. I’m here to move in.

Dean stares at him, at a loss for words.

Karab: So, you’ll be staying here?

Samuel: Yes. You see, a civilian like me does well in situations like this. I have zero ties to most mercenaries here, so I’m part of your mercenary machine. Mother Mercenary herself contacted me. My fault for cutting too close to the academy, I guess…All the Coaches wanted me hung by my eyelids. But, Mother Mercenary saw how good a civilian could do. Decent level of pay as well, one thousand dollars a week, all to simply report every week on what is happening around here!

Dean : So by your complete fucking incompetence, you get a job, and now you’re moving in? On Mother Mercenary’s orders, I presume?

Samuel: Yup.

Dean : I truly do fucking hate you. Truly. Absolutely.

Karab: Why not let him stay? If he cleans up well. If not, we set up a situation where he will die without implicating us.

Dean : I fuckin’ love you, man! Alright then, you’re welcome to stay.

Samuel: Good! So, where do I sleep?

Dean: Oh, in our room, Sam! You can take the floor!

Samuel shrugs.

Samuel: Alright. Just remember that Mother Mercenary prefers her scouts to be comfortable.

Dean : I’m going to kill you while you sleep.

Samuel: See? Not a good attitude to take. Karabs going to be getting a good report, you’re not.

Dean lunges forward, only for Karab to jump up and lock his arms behind his back.

Karab: CALM DOWN!!


Samuel simply yawns dramatically, pretending to check his watch before laughing and patting Deans cheek teasingly.

Samuel: I’ll just go and get my stuff. Catch ya later!

Samuel turns around, walking out of the door. Dean pulls himself from Karabs grip, turning around and looking at him.

Dean: Karab? If I get a paycut..I’m going to murder him.

Karab: Come on, Dean..At least show some love for your brother.

Dean: No way, man. Not with all the shit we’ve been through.

Karab: Like..?

Dean: It’s some private stuff, but it’s stuff that will make it easier to kill that fucking host of the devil!

Karab: What?

Dean looks around shiftily.

Dean : I didn’t say anything! Go get the lamb out, Karab, we need to get the kebabs started!

Karab: You said something!

Dean : IT WAS NOTHING! Move, or I’ll whip you!

Jericho, who was walking past, looks in the window, raising an eyebrow.

Jericho : Kinky bitch!


Elsehwere, The jeeps continue chasing the truck across the sands of the Sinai. Maurices van has pulled to the left hand side of the truck, as Bricks humvee has pulled back behind it to allow Jon to recover from the testicular zap by a cattle prod. To the right, Will and Vince are still doing their best to hijack the truck, except the driver has shut the passenger door and locked it.

Moe : Fucking hell, what am I supposed to do??!

Maurice: Is his door unlocked?

Moe: Well, yeah, but--

Maurice: Think you can jump and hang on?

Moe : ..Are you fucking insane, Maurice??!?! One millimetre off and I’ll splat!

Maurice : Do it! C’mon! You can do it! JUMP, LITTLE DUDE! JUMP!

Moe: Fuck that shit, Maurice, it ain’t worth it! IT’S ONLY LUCKY CHARMS!




Moe uneasily opens the door, holding desperately onto the door handle as the door flies open, shifting as the wind pounds against it. The truck driver looks down, eyes widening as Moe hangs desperately onto the door.

Truck Driver: I don’t get paid enough for this shit.

The driver grabs a cattle prod by his right-hand side wedged between his door and body, winding his window down and leaning over carefully, leaning his arm out of the window.

Truck Driver: Alright, hold still, I want to kill you quickly!

On the other side, Will drives the Half Moons humvee against the side of the jeep, the paintwork scratching off with vicious, yellow sparks as Will continues driving, grinding against the passengers door.


Vince: Is this safe? I mean, I can’t imagine this is road legal!

Will : We’re approaching the Canal you dumb fucking retard!! If that barge is there to take him, we’re fucked! Al will rape our asses! DO IT!!

Vince sighs, clutching his fists together. He leans over Wills body, uneasily smashing his elbow into the passengers window. It simply bounces off.

Vince: Fuck! That hurt!

Will : Are you serious? ARE YOU SERIOUS?!?!

Vince smashes his elbow off of the window again: Nothing.

Vince: This isn’t like the movies, fuck!

Will : Goddamn, you fucking weakling! DO SOMETHING!


Will quickly jolts to the right, sending the Humvee several feet from the truck. Vince leans out of his open window, leaning forward, and unable to reach the door. Will holds his nose as Vinces body lays across him, letting out a groan of disgust. The truck driver notices this from the corner of his eye, quickly leaning over and ignoring Moe, stretching to open the passengers window.




Moe takes a deep breath, and Maurice matches the speed of the truck: Moe crosses his fingers, letting go of the door with one hand. Maurice puts his foot down, speeding a few feet forward of the truck. Moe quickly leaps off, the distance Maurice managed to put ahead of the truck enabling Moe to uneasily latch onto the doors handle. He skids, stumbling down the metal steps and clinging on to the trucks door handle for dear life.


Moe grasps the doors handle, pulling on it. The door flies open with Moe still clinging on.


Moe slowly edges around the door, edging his legs around the door. The truck driver notices, turning around while still clutching the cattle prod.

Truck Driver: This is just getting tiring..

Moe screams, jolting forward and slamming the door shut tightly, ducking down. The sand had now shifted to concrete, and the truck and humvees were speeding through Port Said. The long, thick road made it suitable for the chase, but the end of the road was coming quick.

Will : Dammit Vince, have you got it?!

Vince leans out of the window of Wills humvee, his stomach in Wills face, successfully snagging the handle with an index finger and pulling the door open, sending it jolting open in the speeding wind.

Vince: I have it!


Vince sits back in his seat, looking ahead.

Vince: Umm..I think we’re close to the Suez..

Will looks ahead: A small block, indicating a ramp, is clearly visible on the near horizon, as well as a break between sets of buildings. Will puts his foot down, breaking quickly and sending his Humvee screeching to a halt. Maurice and the van do so as well, screeching to a halt near Wills humvee. The truck carrying supplies simply barrels past them, shooting onto the ramp and down onto a flatbed barge awaiting it. The truck driver quickly steps out, rushing into the small cabin and patting the captains back.


The captains shoves down several levers as the barge starts to very slowly ease ahead. As the barge starts to move, Maurice sits there, slamming his head on the steering wheel.

Maurice : FUCK!

The ramp slowly slides down from the edge of the concrete and into the water, thus ruining all chances of reaching the cargo.

Vince: We gon’ get raped.


Moe: Well..guess that’s that.

Maurice: Hold on…where the fuck did Brick and Jon get to--

Maurice, Moe, Will and Vince watch as a Humvee speeds violently past them. Brick and Jon scream, shoving open their doors, wrapping their arms around their heads and diving out. Both men roll violently across the concrete, and the humvee barrels forward. The truck driver simply watches from the window of the barge as the humvee flies over the edge of the Suez Canal.

Truck Driver: Mother of monkeys sodomising Jesus.

The Humvee collides violently with the cabin of the barge, crushing the Truck driver and the barge captain into a gelatinous mass. A huge crunching sound fills the air, and Will rushes over to the edge of the Suez, looking down and watching as the barge slowly snaps into two, sending the Dog and Handguns humvee, the barge and the truck filled with American foodstuffs to the bottom of the canal.

Will: …FUCK!

Brick slowly gets to his feet, clutching his right arm which is disjointed at an angle and obviously broken. However, seeing the carnage he’s caused, he raises his arms, whooping loudly. Jon also stands up, rubbing his elbows. Brick holds out a hand, and Jon instinctively high-fives him.

Brick : DID YOU SEE THAT?!?!? WOO!!

Brick takes off his baseball cap, throwing it to the ground.


Will: …So, since the truck is at the bottom of the fucking lake, I trust one of you..commoners can operate a crane, then?

Jon waves his hand, turning around and scanning a yellow crane which looms over the docks.

Jon: Mine.

Jon slowly walks over to the crane, rubbing his hands together.

Moe: …Shall we just split it three ways?

Will: Little dude, that sounds great..I’m not wrecking this Gucci anymore for that bald-headed fat bastard.

Will shakes his suit free from sand and dust, giving a dramatic sigh.Brick: Bloody prissy asshole.


Frank, Sal and Lynch stand in the dead center of the street, arms folded over their laps or, in Sals case, one arm laid over a crutch. Frank is busy adjusting the pants of his jeans, much to Lynchs discomfort.

Sal: Where is this guy?

Lynch: Should be arriving in a few minutes. That’s what I heard..Oh, Sal?

Sal: Yeah?

Lynch: Don’t do anything weird.

Sal: I wasn’t going to..

Frank : Liar! You know you want to--

Lynch : Speak again, and I will gut you.

Frank: Just because you saw my mighty knob!

Sal : ..What?!

Lynch: Him, Mantis, Bob and Octopus were playing naked twister. Anatomically correct naked twister.

Sal : Frannnnk! High five!

Sal and Frank lean over Lynch, high fiving. Sal steadies himself on his crutch, making sure not to stand on his foot which is now enrobed in a thick plaster cast.

Lynch: Both of you..Eyes ahead. Mouths closed.

Frank whines, but stops as he sees a sandy cloud approach from the north. At the front of the cloud, clearly visible, is a black limousine with its windows tinted out. Behind it, visible as the vehicles start to pull into Beale Street, are three solid black humvees, also boasting tinted-out windows. The limousine slowly comes to a halt a few feet in front of Lynch, Frank and Sal, the passengers door flying open. A middle-aged steps out, a bald head which shines in the sunlight but with a thin, wispy ponytail which hangs behind his head and lays over his right shoulder. His black, silk tie matches his black blazer, black pants and black leather shoes. He slowly takes off a pair of sunglasses, grinning at the mercenaries.

 Houghton : Greetings, peasants. My name is Rex Houghton, documentary master and all-around sex symbol!

Lynch, Frank and Sal simply stand there, no expressions changing on their faces.

Sal : ..Riiiiiiiiight

Lynch: So, you’re the documentary guy?

Houghton: What gave it away, chief?

Frank: Charming.

Houghton: Now, if you excuse me, I shall be set up in your finest hotel, with my crew, of course! Filming isn’t until tomorrow, and I would love a place to rest and preferably drink some fine wine!

Frank and Lynch look at eachother before Lynch nods at the Lamb and Flag, whose sign is swinging in the wind noisily off of a rusted chain.

Lynch: Lamb and Flag, then.

Houghton: Are you serious?!??! FUCK ME!! THIS IS LUDICROUS! I don’t want to remain here and film artistically when all I have is a thugs pub!

Frank clenches his fist, glaring at Rex.

Frank : It’s just fine.

Rex gives a deep, dramatic sigh, checking the fingernails of his right hand which have been manicured.

Rex: FINE! I shall remain in the hovel! But someone needs to park my lim--

That Hispanic Guy quickly jogs forward, extending a hand out in front of Rex.

That Hispanic Guy : Greetings, friend! I shall park your car!

Rex: Thanks—Whats with the other three guys?

That Hispanic Guy turns his head: Stoofer, Johan and Bobby are standing behind him in an instant while wearing green boilersuits, also grinning inanely.

That Hispanic Guy : They…They…They…umm..are going to…wash..your limousine?

Rex raises an eyebrow before smiling and clapping his hands together

Rex : THANK YOU! Remember, it needs to be air-dried, not dried with a cloth or the fibers stick to it. Thank you.

Stoofer : No problem, pendejo.

Rex: What’s a pendejo?

Frank: It means you’re a fa--

Lynch : A fantastically cool..guy!

Rex: Ahhhh! Yes, I am a pendejo, aren’t I?

Frank, Lynch, Sal and the Hispanic Mechanics grin brightly.

Bobby: Yes. Yes you are.

Rex: Soo..I shall take my relaxation in And then, we start the interviews tomorrow? By the way, where are the rest of the mercenaries?

Frank: Uhh….doing..mercenary stuff?

A white van slowly rolls down the street. Lynch, Frank, Sal, Rex and his crew watch as Obese Maurice, driving the van, slowly approaches them. As he pulls alongside the limousine he rolls down the window, breathing heavily.

Maurice : Who’s the new..guy?

Rex extends a hand.

Rex : Greetings, I’m Rex Houghton! Documentary maker extraordinaire, here to film interviews with all the mercenaries for a groundbreaking new documentary on the life of those acting as cannon fodder to Liquid Ocelots armies, including you, my good man!

Maurice rolls his eyes, ignoring his hand.

Moe: Ignore it, Wor Maur, we’ve got Reeses to unpack!

Maurice: Fuckin’ Lucky Charms, lad! Fuck that leprechaun..

Maurice drives forward past them, scattering a dusty sand cloud into the air. Rex spits out a mouthful of sand, looking very underwhelmed.

Rex : What was that?

Sal : ….That was…some….guy….who’s a mercenary

Rex : …Ah. But he’s…y’know..kind of..

The truck beeps menacingly as it reverses, and Maurice leans out the window, looking down at Rex.

Maurice : Were you about to same something, kiddo?


Maurice : ..Good boy.

Maurice continues driving forward, muttering obscenities under his breath as he pulls into the small alley between The Half Moon and the Lamb and Flag.

Lynch: So, Houghton, when will Mother Mercenary be arriving?

Rex turns pale, shuddering, along with Sal and Frank.

Rex : ..I dunno…she said next week..sometime..anytime, really..she’ll pop up randomly..

Lynch: Silent and violent..Sounds like her.

Rex: All I know is that she will be arriving during my tenure here. She’s very interested in this..Hell, she’s the one who invited me and pitched the idea. After you guys, I’ve got to interview FOUR other companies. Four.

Lynch: Sounds rough.

Rex: Yeah. Dehydration is rampant. My cameramen barely sleep. I miss my fucking home. Of course, interviewing you guys may just loosen the impact a bit..Apparently, you guys are the meatshields? Cannon fodder?

Frank : Well, yes, but--

Rex: Look, just park my limo, park the humvees, and let me get some rest, alright? It’s been a long trip. I’m feeling pretty light-headed, and we’d like a rest before we start interviewing.

Sal ; Dawwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!! Ain’t he cute?? He thinks he has it rough!

Lynch: Go right ahead. Bastards, take care of Rexs car.

Stoofer: Oh, we’ll take care of it, alright..

That Hispanic Guy : Real good care of it..

That Hispanic Guy, Stoofer, Johan and Bobby start cackling maniacally. Rex and his cameraman look on uneasily as they slowly stop laughing, rubbing their eyes.

Johan : Ahhh..Alright. Let us get this done.

Johan climbs into the limousine, while the others take the three humvees escorting Houghtons limousine. Rex and his crew watch as thelimousine leads the way, turning right and driving carefully through the narrow alley and into the small square behind Franks bungalow which leads directly to Walkers Street opposite.

Rex: They will take care of it, right?

Lynch: Yeah, sure, they will. C’mon, let’s get you some hospitality and a few drinks--

Franks eyes widen.


Franks legs spin at an inhuman speed as he turns around, running down the sandy road towards the Lamb and Flag.

Rex: Jesus, is that--

Lynch: No, it’s not normal. C’mon.


With night settling in, Rex and have his crew have locked themselves upstairs in the Lamb and Flag, essentially sealing off any and all access to them. As such, this leaves the bottom floor of the Lamb and Flag crowded with mercenaries who, having actually worked to some degree today, are busy drinking their troubles and thoughts away. Wolf, Courtney, Tavi and the Spetsnaz Squad Leader, remaining within Beale Street for a few days of leave, are sitting around a table. Wolf is busy sitting on the Squad Leaders lap, grinning childishly.

Wolf: Soooo..what’s it like being part of a top-secret sector of the Russian military?

Spetsnaz Squad Leader: Vell, it’s fun. You know..killing people, terrifying children, performing backflipping hatchet attacks..the usual.

Wolf: Didja hear that, girls? Backflipping hatchet attacks!

Courtney: I could do that with my eyes closed and with my foot on the hatchet!

Tavi: You can?

Courtney: Just give me some caffeine and you’ll see!

Courtney and Tavi watch as Wolf is busy locking lips with her new beau in a heavy French kiss.

Tavi : That’s…actually quite disturbing when you’re single.

Courtney: Yeeouch, looks like she’s about to suck his face off. Speaking of sucking faces off. Phil, hows the teeth?

Phil, whose mouth is full of icecubes as he sits at a table to the right of Wolfs with Billy, Vince, Sal, Jericho, Steve and Ivan, simply sighs. Billy pats his back.

Billy: Sorry Phil.

Phil : Mmf.Billy: C’mon lad, I am. How was I supposed to know you weren’t carrying a large fortune you said you had?

Phil : Mmf.Billy: C’mon man..say something!

Phil : ….Can I have my teeth back, now?

Billy: ..I kinda sold them to Drebin.

Phil: Well, Luckily you only took some of the back teeth. So while the pain is actually quite excruciating, I can still chew.

Wolf : Oh, stop whining!

Phil : Wolf! You talk! You’re tongues finally found its way out of that guys mouth!

Spetsnaz Squad Leader : Maybe you need to shut up!

Phil: Maybe I do, but I don’t have common sense not to mess with a Spetsnaz, you ass!

Wolf: Just ignore him, darling..and focus on these..

Wolf jiggles her chest.

Phil: Don’t do it, man. Don’t do it! It ain’t worth it!

Wolf simply growls, turning around on his lap and facing him.

Spetsnaz Squad Leader: Vats that guys problem?

Wolf: Just an ex. Harmless. Insane.

Spetsnaz Squad Leader: Veally? Insane?

Billy : Hey, Phil, how do you feel that no-one loves you?

Phil stands up, sitting on Billys lap and locking his arms around his neck.

Phil : You’re my Prison Bitch! My Prison Bitch! And I have no regrets, I got you for a candy bar and a pack of cigarettes! At first you were resistant, but now you are my friend, I knew I would get you in the end!!!

Billy sits there, eyes widened in terror.

Vince: Oh yeah, we got to forget to tell you that me and Sal sold you to him.

Billy : …GETOFFAME!!!

Billy shoves Phil onto the table, standing up and screaming before turning around, running out the door and into the streets, tearing off his shirt as he does. Phil laughs loudly.

Phil: The things I do for peanuts!

Phil slides down, sitting in Billys seat and starting to eat his half-empty packet of KP Salted Peanuts.

Sal: We really sold him? DAMMIT, whose going to clean my Ming Vase now?!

Johan: Did someone say..Ming vase?

That Random Guy: As in..priceless ming vase?

Sal: NOT ME!

Spetsnaz Squad Leader: …He veally is insane, isn’t he?

Wolf: Mmm..He is, my big strong beefcake..

Courtney: Well, at least everyones happy!

Jon: I’m not! I still want my kidney, Bill!



Bill: And?


Bill: Cry more.

Phil: Anyone wanna play hoopla to shut the fuck up?

Bill: Yeah, why not? Get mr. no kidney out of my hair.


Phil and Bill start to set up several empty beer bottles on a table behind Wolfs. As they do, the double doors to the Lamb and Flag open and Lynch strides in, his jacket open and his shirt dirtied by the vicious winds kicking up sand and dirt. He stands at the bar, giving a small sigh and cracking his knuckles. Dick looks up from polishing a glass.

Dick: Everything alright, bossman?

Lynch: Worried about the shit that’s coming, y’know? Mother Mercenary visiting..Rex Houghton here..Mercenaries fucking around..


Lynch: ..Case in point.Dick: C’mon, just have a drink and let your hair down, everyone else is!


Lynch : ….Riiiiiiiight.

A pink bra lands on Lynchs shoulder, which he simply flicks off onto the bar. Courtney walks over, taking it and smirking.

Courtney: Sorry, Wolfs had a bit too much to drink.

Lynch: See? For once. For fucking once, I’d like to see these bastards transformed into a well-oiled war machine, instead of a bunch of drinking, unhousebroken, pathetic, smelly degenerates with a variety of psychological complexes that’d make Freuds head explode.

Dean and Karab walk past Lynch, wearing white sheets with dark circles drawn over the face.

Dean: Alright, remember, we’re going to scare Sammy to get him the fuck out of our house, alright? If he thinks it’s haunted, we shouldn’t get in trouble off the bitch.

Karab : Oh wow, I think this might work!

Dean: FUCK YOU! It’s the best I can come up with!

Karab : Yes, just slightly better than going naked, painting ourselves blue and pretending to be mutant smurfs!

Dean : Have I mentioned I want to kill you?

Karab: Several times today, yes.

Dean and Karab fling the doors open, walking out. Sal stands up, clutching both crutches under his arms carefully while holding a cigarette and slowly starts to limp out, clutching a silver zippo in his left hand.

Sal: Don’t mind, lads, just gonna light up.

Vince: Remember what they said in World War One!

Billy: What’s that got to do with anything?

Vince: I dunno. Just about a sniper and stuff. One light catches his eye, two, he readies his scope and three, he pulls the trigger.

Billy: Yeah, well, luckily there aren’t any enemy snipers around..I think.

A shot rings out, echoing in the distant air. The bar keeps talking but Sal wanders in, clutching his hand which is now bleeding from the palm.


Sal cries out, jumping up and down while waving his hand, spraying blood across the floor.


Tavi sighs, standing up and rubbing her eyes, her ears twitching on the side of her head.

Tavi : Alright, Sal, let’s get back to ReLoaded and get you patched up..See? Oh, that’s a big boo-boo..Come on..

Tavi hustles Sal out of the bar. Vince simply sits there, awestruck.

Vince: ….I think I might be..psychic!

Billy: Vince, you’re not psychic.


That Random Guy, sitting a few tables to the left of Vinces with That Other Random Guy, Johan, Bobby, That Hispanic Guy, Stoofer and Mustafa, flings a bottle, narrowly missing him.

Mustafa: That was a shit shot, little one.

That Random Guy: Can you do better?

Mustafa sighs, cracking the knuckles in his large hands and standing up, walking over to Vince and standing behind his chair, casting a shadow over him. Vince turns around, looking up at the form of Mustafa.

Mustafa: Sorry, friend, but I must break you.

Vince screams, jumping to his feet and running out the doors. Mustafa simply shrugs and turns to That Random Guy.

Bobby: Yup, he did.

Lynch : Goddamn..

Dick: Look, I doubt the mercenaries will keep good behaviour for Houghtons visit, even with that Mother woman..thing threatening a visit.

Lynch: But it’s Mother Mercenary. That’ll scare them into submission for sure! I mean, c’mon, with the threat of that hanging over their thick skulls, the mercenaries can surely keep good behaviour..right?

Billy runs past behind them, holding a sheep in a headlock and punching it repeatedly in the face while Vince rides it.

Lynch: …Right?

Ivan walks past, crunching on the bone of a frogs leg and scratching his nose while Frank runs past him, stark naked and waving his arms.


Lynch: ..Right?

Behind him, Jericho is swinging from a light fixture, while Phil, Steve, Bill, That Random Guy and Billy are busy trying to play hoopla with rubber hoops and glass bottles, their visions blurring and their shots hitting everything and anything but the targets. The Spetsnaz Squad Leader stands up, carrying the naked, tipsy Wolf over his shoulder, who whoops loudly and blows a mocking kiss at Phil as they leave the pub.

Lynch simply sighs, tapping the bar.

Lynch: Wrong. Give me a whiskey on the rocks..

A loud crash is heard as Alex Shelley and Chris Sabin crash through one of the windows, tied around the leg of a Gekkou.



Phil grabs a chair, smashing it over Bills head. Billy grabs one of the beer bottles, smashing it repeatedly over Phils head, eventually breaking it. This small act of violence causes the bar to somehow disintegrate in a violent mess as Lynch simply stands there. Dick ducks quickly as Sal is thrown over the bar and into several polished glasses by Ivan and Jericho.

Lynch: …Make it a large one.

Dick throws some ice cubes quickly into a glass as Jericho is thrown head-first over the bar by Johan. Lynch grabs the bottle as Dick sets it down, simply uncorking it and taking a deep swig before turning to That Other Random Guy and elbowing him in his jaw. That Other Random Guy stumbles backwards, collapsing to the floor as Lynch wades through the violence, smashed bottles and pools of blood, bottle in hand as the scene fades.


It’s on like Donkey Kong as Rex Houghton begins to interview the mercenaries over their escapades and thoughts on life as front-line cannon fodder! Will the mercenaries face difficult questions such as “What is ten times ten”? Will Wolf kill Phil? Will Dick, Al and Bricks rivalry continue? And where the fuck is Robbie? Tune in next time, to witness interviews, top-of-the-range condom machines, Wapanese karaoke and the Chop Shops revival!