Sunday, 31 July 2011

Episode VIII - Nightwalkers

*Dean and Karabs Kebaborama – 2:15am*

The scene opens within Dean and Karabs Kebaborama. The room is incredibly dark, aside from a lone lamp sitting on a wooden box beside Deans bed lighting up part of the room. Dean, wearing a brown leather jacket, a black thermal jumper, jeans and heavy-duty black boots, is busy rifling through a large, metal, khaki box, scrambling around its innards. He pulls out a Sawn-Off Hunting Shotgun, looking down the barrel and giving a small nod before slipping it into one of the interior pockets of his jacket.

To his left and on the floor, Samuel is busy rifling through a large black duffle bag, quickly pulling out a M9 Beretta pistol and turning off the safety, laying it on the floor beside him. Despite keeping quiet, or trying to, Karab slowly sits up in the right-hand bed in the room, his head slowly turning to look at Deans back. Dean turns around, noticing Karab and jumps slightly.

Dean [Terrified]: WOAH!!!

Karab [Yawning]: …..Good morning.

Dean lets out a deep, heavy sigh, clutching his chest as Samuel looks over.

Dean [Gasping heavily]: …Jeez..almost gave me a heart attack..

Samuel: Karab, go back to sleep.

Karab: What are you assholes doing?

Dean: Going ghost-hunting.

Karab blinks rapidly, slowly turning to Samuel who nods.

Samuel: it’s true. We’ve been hearing strange things for a few nights now.

Karab [Cocking an eyebrow]: ..It’s the house settling!

Dean [Bluntly]: Screaming is NOT the house settling, Karab.

Karab: It’s probably just someone coming home from drinking!

Dean reaches behind the crate, lifting up a bloody skull and turning around, showing it to Karab whose eyes immediately widen.

Dean: Does that look like drinking to you?

Karab: Looks like my Uncle Patal!

Dean [Disturbed]: ….What the fuck happened to your Uncle Patal?

Karab: Wounded twenty times in battle. Took a tank firing its shell at his face to stop him.

Dean: …Ewwwww.

Karab: Go ‘Ewwww’ all you want, he earned the Victoria Cross!

Dean remains silent.

Samuel: Dean, that’s actually quite a big deal.

Dean: ..Oh.

Karab: …Alright, but if it is a ghost, why would it skin a humans skull?

Dean: It’s not a ghost per se, but a spirit. A vengeful spirit. Or an angry creature.

Karab [In disbelief]: …That eats faces? What the fuck is it, Hellraiser?!

Dean: Look, Karab, we believe it might be a hungry werewolf.

Karab stops, looking at Dean as the corners of his mouth twitch slightly.

Karab [Grinning]: …Is it Jacob?

Dean [Angrily]: I KNEW HE WOULD SAY THAT!! No! It’s not some pansy-ass pussy from Twilight!!! It’s an actual fucking werewolf!

Karab: Bullshit. If you guys need me, I’ll be sleeping.

Karab yawns loudly, laying back and pulling his covers over himself, turning onto his side.

Karab [Sleepily]: Breakfasts in the fridge.

Samuel: …..Wow. Well, that’s helpful.

Dean: You told him to go back to sleep!

Samuel [Impatiently]: I thought he’d insist to help us!

Dean: God, you really are an idiot, you know that?!

Samuel: Look, shut up. We need to start looking for ghosts. What time is it?

Dean looks at his watch.

Dean: …It’s two-fifteen. In the morning.

Samuel: Brilliant! We heard the screams around four or five in the morning! We can still commit to a hunt!

Dean: Yeah, great.

Samuel gets to his feet, dusting off his jeans and reaches onto Deans bed, grasping a khaki parka with a furred hood and pulls it on, zipping it to halfway up his chest and kneels down, grasping his Beretta.

Samuel: I’ve got the salt, the silver bullets are loaded, and I’m packing the holy water. You?

Dean: Salt. Salt bullets. Iron Frisbee, too!

Samuel [Hesitantly]: …….Iron Frisbee?

Dean reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small circle of pounded pure iron, grinning and nodding.

Dean: Isn’t it innovative?

Samuel: How far can you throw that thing?

Dean flicks his wrist, throwing the Frisbee. It flies about two feet before slamming violently into the floor with a vicious rattle at Samuels feet.

Samuel [Underwhelmed]: Well, if the ghost gets close enough for it to technically classify as rape, you’ll be safe.

Dean [Grinning]: …Well, let’s hope the ghost is a hot female!

Samuel [Rolling his eyes]: Or a werewolf.

Dean: Or the werewolf.

Samuel sighs, dusting off his parka as Dean strolls over to him, leaning down and grasping the iron Frisbee, slipping it into his pocket. He walks over to the bed, pulling up his Sawn-Off Shotgun and pulls down the barrels, checking that shells are loaded before snapping the barrels shut to the butt.

Dean: Let’s boogie.

Dean confidently walks out of the bedroom door.

Samuel: …Well, at least he’s confident.

Karab [Sleepily]: He’s not, he’s just stupid.

Samuel suppresses a laugh before following Dean out of the door, carefully shutting it behind him.

*Beale Street – 2:30am*

The sun has yet to rise over Beale Street. Stars are still sparkling upon the blanket of dark violet that covers the sky, as well as the silver pendulum of the moon which hangs over Beale Street, lighting the entire street with a serene silver glow. In the street, Dean and Samuel slowly stroll out, letting out a small, visible breath and rubbing their arms.

Dean: Gets awfully cold at night.

Samuel: Yeah, I know.

Dean: …Screw you.

Samuel: You could be nicer, Dean. We are brothers.

Dean: ….Yeah. I know. Not sure on you, though.

Samuel: What’s that supposed to mean?

Dean [Hastily]: Nothin’, Nothin’!

Dean and Samuel listen carefully, their ears twitching as they hear the sounds of sand crackling beneath foot. They twist around, looking up the street. Emerging from his flat is Phil, wearing a ski mask, a black thermal jumper and desert camouflage combat pants tucked into thick leather boots with a fur cuff. Phil slowly turns to them, waving.

Phil [Muffled slightly]: Sup guys?

Samuel: …Uhh..hi.

Phil: You guys going treasure hunting too?

Dean [Raising an eyebrow]: …….Treasure hunting?!

Jericho emerges, wearing his traditional camelskin trenchcoat over a white dress shirt, grey slacks and black brogues, only with a ski mask pulled over his head and a black beanie pulled on top of that, as well as thick wool gloves.

Jericho: Yup. What are you guys doing out?

Dean [Hesitantly]: ….We’re…..going for……a peaceful….walk.

Phil: With weapons?

Samuel: …It’s hostile out there.

Ivan slowly strolls out of the house next, wearing a thick fur coat which covers the entirety of his body, as well as a ski mask and sunglasses.

Ivan: ….Guys.

Dean: Ivan.

Samuel: Treasure hunting? Really? There’s nothing to hunt!

Ivan [Chuckling]: That’s vat everyone vinks! Ve are veady to prove them wrong!

Dean: …Whatever. You guys just keep away from us, and we’ll keep away from you.

Jericho: Why? What are you guys doing at two in the morning?

Samuel [Calmly]: Hunting.

Phil, Jericho and Ivan simply look at them.

Phil [Underwhelmed]: …Ooookay. Let’s go, boys.

Steve quickly jogs out of the house, wearing one of Jerichos bright tan trenchcoats, a black thermal jumper, and a pair of trousers with faux fur hastily pasted onto them, accompanying a pair of fur-covered boots meant for women.

Steve: Ready!

Ivan: Let’s vock.

Phil, Jericho, Steve and Ivan begin to walk in slow-motion towards the alleyway directly opposite their house as Dean and Samuel watch. Dean scratches his nose, looking completely and utterly underwhelmed.

Dean: What the fuck are you assholes doing?

The four mercenaries quickly return to walking in normal speed. However, the sound of feet crunching upon sand echoes through the air, and the mercenaries turn around, watching as Tavi slinks out of ReLoaded, wearing only a large black trenchcoat fastened over the entirety of her body, yawning and stretching before looking over at all of them.

Tavi [Confused]: …Uhh…hello.

Jericho: Hi.

Dean: Yo.

Tavi: …..So we’ve got four men dressed like Eskimos, and two carrying guns. I trust there’s a good explanation?

Phil: What are you doing out here?

Tavi: During the coldest of nights, I sometimes just like to lay out here…look up at the stars..contemplate my place in the universe..

Jericho [Bluntly]: Alrighty.

Tavi: …Do you guys care that I’m the only one of my kind in existence?

Dean: No.

Samuel: Nope.

Jericho: No.

Ivan: Nyit.

Phil: Yeah.

Steve: Yes.

Tavi [Sadly]: ….Phil..Steve…Hug me…

Phil: I didn’t agree to hugging.

Steve quickly walks over to Tavi, smiling with his arms spread. Tavi smiles, hugging him tightly.

Tavi [Smiling slightly]: ..Thanks Steve..

Steve: No problemo!

Dean: What’s got you so….thoughtful?

Tavi [Sighing heavily]: …Just worrying about my own existence.

Phil strolls over to Steve and Tavi, grasping Steve’s shoulder and patting it lightly.

Phil: C’mon dude, I want to get this shit done by breakfast.

Steve: Okies!

Steve lets go of Tavi, turning around and jogging towards Jericho and Ivan.

Samuel: Why?

Tavi [Sadly]: …I’m the only one of my kind. That I know of.

Ivan: …And zats bad because?

Tavi: It’s depressing. No mother, no father, no siblings..Nobody but me.

Jericho: You’ve got Wolf and Courtney!

Tavi [Hesitantly]: I guess..but’s……ehh..I won’t bother you guys about it.

Dean: Join us, we’re going hunting!

Phil: We’re going treasure hunting!

Tavi: …Thanks, but I’ll pass. Just gonna lay here and watch the skies. Try to be quiet, will ya?

Dean and Phil: Yeah, sure.

Phil quickly turns around, jogging back to Jericho, Steve and Ivan while Dean and Samuel carefully walk into the alley between their house and an abandoned, boarded-up building. Tavi sighs, simply sitting down before laying on her back with her arms behind her head, smiling slightly as she looks up at the glittering stars.

Tavi: Well…at least it’s peaceful..

Three gunshots suddenly pierce the air, causing Tavi to sit up quickly, looking around.

Deans Voice [Angrily, In agony]: MY FUCKING ASS! YOU SHOT MY ASS!!

Samuels Voice: Calm down, it only hit a cheek!


Samuels Voice [Suppressing laughter]: I thought I saw the ghost! I had to make sure it wasn’t a ghost!


Samuels Voice: Hey, at least only one bullet hit you!

The yelling is suddenly cut off by the sound of slapping and pained shouting. Tavi gives a heavy sigh, laying back down with her arms behind her head.

Tavi: Typical..

*Dog and Handgun – 2:37am*

Despite it being early in the morning, both Brick and Jon are wide awake within the basement of the Dog and Handgun. The interior, consisting of nothing more than wooden beams holding up a concrete wall scarred with green daubs of pungent mould in order to hold several rows of wooden boxes against the northern wall opposite the door. A lone lightbulb swings from the ceiling, the light flickering every few seconds as Jon walks over to a small, grey stereo placed on one of the boxes, pressing the play button on the tape recorder and playing “I’m Shipping Up To Boston” by the Dropkick Murphys, rubbing his hands together vigorously in his fingerless woollen gloves as he lets out a visible breath.

Jon: Too fucking cold, Brick!

Brick slams the wooden door shut behind him, wearing a red-and-white checked flannel shirt with sleeves for once in his life. He reaches into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a small switchblade and looking at the left-hand wall where six crates are stacked, two deep with three stacked upon one another.

Brick: I told you, man, we’re missing stock!

Jon: How could we be? All we stock is booze, tampons, make-up and the occasional bag of chilli nuts!

Brick: I dunno man, but I came down here last night and counted one crate less than I did earlier!

Jon: But it’s a well-known fact you can’t count!

A loud hissing fills the air. Brick turns around, grasping the handle and pulling it open, allowing the thick emerald head of Mister Moneypennies to peer through, flicking out his tongue.

Brick: So we’ll get an expert!

Jon [Shaking his head]: I’m telling you, what the fuck do we have to steal?!

Mister Moneypennies: Well, dawgs, I hate to bother y’all, but I’m smelling an intruder here. Like he’s just passed through. Definitely not the smell of wood and gravy like you, Brick, and it ain’t smellin’ like the scent of rage you let off, Jon.

Jon: Yeah yeah. Who is it?!

Mister Moneypennies: ….No idea. Whatever it is, it’s soaked in alcohol.

Jon [Bitterly sarcastic]: Oh, wow! That only narrows it down to THE ENTIRE FUCKING COMPANY!!

Brick [Laughing slightly]: Calm down, Jonny-boy!

Jon sighs, turning around to the crates and sighing heavily, slamming his head down upon them.

Mister Moneypennies: …Shit, dawgs, it’s frozen in here!

Brick: Yeah, it is!

Jon [Muffled, Head in hands]: So?!

Brick [Looking around]: ….Man, that’s odd.

Jon slowly raises his head, his head turning to the six crates stacked against the eastern wall.

Jon [Bitterly]: …..Oh you have got to be having a fucking laugh.

Jon walks over to the right side of the crates, pressing his back against them and carefully pushing them to the right. The crates scrape roughly on the wet concrete floor as they begin to slide away, but the cold air starts to get more and more bitter. Jon finishes pushing them, revealing a large hole in the wall of the basement which is blowing out gusts of cold air. Jon blinks rapidly, rubbing his eyes and staring at the hole.


Brick: What?!

Mister Moneypennies: Shit! That’s one big hole!


Brick jogs over to where Jon is, noticing the hole.

Brick [Chuckling]: Woah! That’s one big hole!


Brick: Dang, that’s one big rat!

Jon: A rat?

Mister Moneypennies: Dude, I ain’t smellin’ no rats here. It’s human.

Jon slowly raises his head.

Jon [Calmly]: And it’s going to die. Brick. Fetch me the crowbar.

Brick: The one covered in barbed wire?

Jon: Yes…fetch me my pretty. We’re going hunting tonight.

Jon kneels down, looking into the darkened hole as Brick jogs off towards the wooden door, squeezing past Mister Moneypennies.

*The Suez – 2:47am*

At the mouth of the Suez Canal leading into the Mediterranean Sea, the U-Boat captained by Robbie Steinhatten is lolling lazily a mile under the water, submerged by its ballasts and remaining hidden in the dark water which reflects the silver glint of the moon back into the naked eye.

In the pitch-black Officers Quarters, Robbie, Dave, Heinrich and Benito are fast asleep in beds resting upon cast-iron frames bolted to the floor, snoring loudly. Heinrich groans loudly, twisting on his bed which lets out a vicious creaking sound as the springs creak beneath him. Robbie grunts loudly, mumbling something under his breath.

The circular handle creaks violently as the door is slowly eased open. Robbie quickly sits up, reaching under his pillow swiftly and pulling out a Mauser pistol, pointing it directly at the shadow standing in the deep-blue light before them.

Robbie [Angrily]: STATE YOUR BUSINESS!!

Rudolf: Sir, it’s me. Kapitänleutnant Rudolf. We have something on the radar.

Robbie: Just tell me right here, for Gods sake!

Rudolf: …It’s a small boat. Judging from the periscope, we believe it to be a supply boat supplying Ocelots PMCs further up in the Middle East. It will pass over our radar in ten minutes. Shall we torpedo it?

Robbie: Screw it. If it’s small, just wake up Second Watch Officer Lindemaan and man the deck gun. Release the Schnorchel and the Ballasts and surface.

Dave [Mumbling in his sleep]: surface…Surface hurt Dave ear..

Robbie: Surface.

Rudolf taps his feet, giving a quick salute before turning right and running off down the coridoor. Robbie sighs, laying back down and gripping his mattress tightly. Daves eyes slowly open as he grips his mattress as well.

Dave: So, a supply boat? About time we sank something that actually mattered in this war.

Robbie: Are you questioning my judgment?!

Dave: Don’t I always?

Robbie [Bitterly]: WELL, STOP IT!!

Dave: NEVER!!

The U-Boat creaks violently as a rushing sensation courses through the bodies of Robbie, Dave, Heinrich and Benito. The U-boat rushes upwards, parting the Suez with a wave of white foam as it surfaces roughly, bobbing upon the surface of the water.

On the deck, the circular hatch of the U-Boat twists with a rough creak, flipping open and allowing a man to surface, clad in a thick blue kriegsmarine overcoat outlined with a fur collar, the brass buttons shining in the moonlight. The man tips his white peaked cap upwards, revealing a milky-white left eye with a long, trailing scar, presumably from shrapnel, etched down his eye and to the left corner of his mouth and a cold, grey eye in the right socket. He scratches his grey stubble roughly, turning and looking down the hatch.

Second Watch Officer Lindemaan: Move.

Lindemaan walks forward, over to the 10.8cm deck gun and kneels beside it, pulling a silver key from his pocket and opening up a large metal airtight locker embedded into the ship beside the gun, unlocking it and flipping the lid open, revealing at least four large shells.

Second Watch Officer Lindemaan: We have enough shells here for one ship. MOVE, NOW!

Rudolf emerges from the hatch, quickly rushing over to the deck gun while buttoning up his overcoat. He grasps the handles of the deck gun as a second, unknown sailor rushes beside Lindemaan, grabbing a shell from him and loading into the gun with a resounding, heavy thud. Rudolf moves from the controls, looking down the sights to the right of the controls and rotating a dial above them, checking for the enemy merchant ship.

Rudolf: Can’t spot the bastard. Visibilities poor.

Lindemaan: Hold on..

Lindemaan reaches into his pocket, pulling out and lighting a bright red emergency flare which hisses violently. He holds it high above his head, and the merchant ship responds by lighting an emergency flare of its own.

Lindemaan: They always think we’re a friendly. Why is that?

Rudolf: Only Ocelot would be insane enough to have control of a U-Boat?

Lindemaan [Quickly]: Well, there is tha—OPEN FIRE!!! STRIKE HIM DOWN!!

Rudolf jolts the deck gun to the right slightly, locking the crosshairs over the merchant ship before moving over to the controls and firing the gun. A huge explosion fills the air as the gun fires, jolting the U-Boat violently as the shell whistles through the air, colliding with the bridge of the small merchant ship, blowing it effortlessly into two pieces of wrecked hull. A huge cloud of pungent smoke rises through the air, the various shadows of merchant crewman visible amongst the flames they dive off of the boat and into the safe waters of the Suez.

Rudolf: Direct hit.

Lindemaan: What the hell was it doing turning right?

Rudolf: Running away?

Lindemaan: ..I have a feeling we’ve just stirred the nest.

Deck Gun Loader;: Gut feeling?

Lindemaan: No, that battleship in the distance.

Rudolf looks down the deck gun sights, staring at the huge looming shadow slowly heading towards the mouth of the Suez, the shining metal glinting in the flames of the merchant ship.

Rudolf [Gulping loudly]: …Oh. That could sort of be a problem.

*Beale Street – 3:14am*

Back on Beale Street, the sky is slowly starting to turn a light shade of violet as the sun prepares to rise. In the top floor of a boarded-up three-floor stack of flats beside Frank’s house, Steve, Jericho, Ivan and Phil are busy searching around the darkened room, their hands slowly scraping across the dust-ridden floor and the grainy, carved-stone wall.

Phil: Anyone feel anything?

Jericho: I feel something odd. It’s…wiry.

Phil: That’s my beard, idiot.

Jericho: …We really should turn on a light.

Ivan: Vhy? Zis is ten times more vun!

Steve [Excitedly]: I’VE GOT SOMETHING!!

The sound of a thud fills the air as Steve pulls at something.

Jericho [Angrily]: Fuck! STEVE! WHY DID YOU PULL MY LEG?!?!

Steve: Oh, I thought it was a piano leg!

Phil: Hey, Jerry, you been working out?

Jericho [Confused]: …Why?

Phil: Those are some nice arms you’ve got there—

Ivan: Phil, those are mine.

Phil [Quietly]: ….Wow, this is awkward.

Ivan: Zat vas a nice compliment, though.

Phil: Hey, no problem—

Jericho: Alright, I’m lighting up!


A small flicker of flame fills the room as Jericho lights up a zippo, holding it high. Phil, Ivan and Steve, who are all on all fours on the floor, look around, noticing that the room is, in fact, completely bare aside from a lightbulb swinging from a lone wire on the ceiling. Phil gets up onto his tiptoes, grasping the bulb and unscrewing it, slipping it into the pocket of his parka.

Phil [Happily]: Another lightbulb! Brilliant!

Steve and Ivan get to their feet, looking around the empty room and sighing.

Jericho: Anything else?

Phil: Nothing aside from the crippling feeling of boredom.

Jericho: There has to be something to loot!

Ivan: There is noving! It has all been taken!

Jericho: So much for our get-rich-quick scheme, then.

Ivan: May as vell get out of here..

Phil slowly heads to the door, rattling as he does.

Jericho: So our haul is fifteen lightbulbs?

Steve: And a dead rat!

Ivan: Hardly anyving phenomenal.

All four of them head down a rectangular winding staircase to the bottom floor, crouching down and crab-walking through a small hole they kicked in the wooden boards that shielded the door. They turn right, heading down Beale Street and passing by Tavi who is still laid in the streets.

Jericho: Hey Tavi.

Tavi: Hey…you guys found anything?

Ivan: No. Just lightbulbs.

Phil: I swear, anyone pats my back and they’ll get stabbed.

Tavi [Sadly]: ..That’s not nice—

Phil [Quickly]: No, seriously, they will, I’ve got lightbulbs everywhere in this parka with me. They pat my back and they’ll break!

Jericho: Don’t ask.

Tavi [Bluntly]: ..Agreed.

Phil: Here’s one, guys!

Phil turns left, jogging up a set of concrete steps towards the door of a building directly opposite of ReLoaded. A door, boarded up, greets him. He quickly slams his foot into the boards, cracking them.

Jericho [Happily]: Maybe this one will hold some loot!

Tavi: And if there isn’t?

Jericho: He will die at dawn.

Tavi gives a small yawn, stretching her arms.

Tavi: ..Ehh..I’m gonna go catch some sleep..

Ivan: Vell, goodnight.

Steve walks beside Phil, slamming his foot forward as well. The combined force of their kicks caves in the planks of the doors, revealing a large, splintered hole in the middle of the planks which leads into a dark abyss. Phil quickly begins kicking away the shards of wood at the bottom of the doorway, getting on his hands and knees and looking over his shoulder.

Phil [Excitedly]: COME ON, GUYS!!

Phil crawls in, followed by Steve as Tavi hops up to her feet. Jericho sighs, rubbing his eyes.

Jericho: God, there better be something here..

*ReLoaded – 3:47am*

The white plastic door to ReLoaded opens with a small ring as a dusty old bell shakes beside the door. Tavi slowly tiptoes into the shop, carefully shutting the door behind her. She gives a small sigh, looking over the shop.

Tavi [Quietly, to herself]: ..Maybe I’m just overreacting. I don’t even know where I came from. Don’t even know if I was born or created. If I am the last of my species, what does it matter? Species die out all the time. I’ll just be another member of my species, dust in the wind..

Tavi gives a small sigh, carefully and slowly walking behind the counter, flipping up the wooden hatch and carefully laying it on the counter near the register.

Tavi [Quietly]: …But..I don’t want to be alone. I want to be with me. I want to meet others like me..Want to see what it feels like for them..being a…a…a different being to the others…Know what it’s like for them to go through as well….God, I wonder what they’re like…Wonder if they even exist..I mean..they have to, right? They have to exist…I can’t have been the sole member of my species..It’s impossible..

Tavi sighs, opening the door behind the counter on the left-hand wall and slides into it, carefully tiptoeing up the stairs.

Tavi: I mean..if I was genetically created, that means there had to be others…Brothers, sisters…friends……lovers…I can’t have just been the sole one created…

She eases up the white plastic door at the top of the stairs, sneaking into the darkened bedroom where Wolf and Courtney are snoring loudly.

Tavi [Growing sadder]: …But who would know?...Mother Mercenary? Could she know where I came from?..

Jericho’s Voice [Excitedly]: JACKPOT!

Steve’s Voice [Whooping]: WOOHOO!

Ivan’s Voice [Excitedly]: WOW!! LOOK AT ZAT!!

Tavi yawns quietly, strolling over to the window and looking from behind the lace netting over the street: The top half of the building has been shelled by an old bombing run, tearing off the roof and upper-half of the second floor. Barely visible is Jericho, grinning brightly.

Jerichos Voice: Fucking hell, an old Victorian dresser. How the fuck did it survive the bombs?

Phils Voice: Who cares? Someone get down there and get ready to catch this thing!

Tavi [Sadly]: …Do I really belong here?...I mean, I feel like these people..are…sort…but..I just wish there was another of me….Mother must know..

Tavi watches as Jericho crawls out from the shattered doorway, moving under the bombed-out window frame and looking up, holding out his arms. Tavi slowly lifts her head, watching as Phil and Steve tilt an ornate, carved wardrobe onto the window ledge.

Steve’s Voice: SEE IT, JERRY?!

Jericho’s Voice [Calling up]: YEAH! I SEE IT!!

Phil’s Voice [Quickly]: CATCH!!

Jericho’s Voice [Calling out, Panicking slightly]: WOAH! HOLD ON! MAYBE WE SHOULD WINCH—

Jericho screams violently as Phil and Steve topple the wardrobe over the window frame, sending it tumbling down to the sands below. Jericho looks up, watching as the entire weight of the wardrobe slams down into his body, sending him collapsing to the floor. The wardrobe smashes into pieces as it hits the floor, revealing Jericho splayed unconscious on the floor, blood pooling from his head where he took a large hit. Phil leans over the window frame.

Phils Voice: Oh! Fuck! We killed him!

Jericho groans loudly.

Steves Voice: He’s still alive!

Steve pats Phil enthusiastically on the back, sending him straight over the frame. Phil screams violently, slamming down roughly into the sands.

Tavi [Sighing]: …Maybe I don’t belong here…maybe I do…I’ll have to contact Mother..make sure I’m not the only one..I can’t be..

Tavi sighs, slipping off her trenchcoat, walking to her bed next to the wall where the window is and throwing the covers up, climbing in and closing her eyes.

Tavi: ….I’m not the only one of my kind..

Tavi yawns loudly, shuffling under her covers. Wolf opens an eye, giving a small grin and throwing the covers up, sliding out of bed and strolling over to the door with a seductive sway in her hips

*Beale Street – 4:01am*

In Beale Street, Dean and Samuel are busy investigating a two-storey building directly opposite of the Kebaborama. Despite being boarded up, a window on the left-side of the front wall of the second floor is unboarded, left open to the air, something which draws suspicion from both men, who roughly kick down the door after making their way up a dusty set of stairs. Dean quickly rushes in, aiming down the sights of his Sawn-Off

Dean [Inanely]: Heeeerreeee ghosty ghosty ghostyyyyyy..

Samuel: Dean, I don’t think it’ll react to baby talk.

Dean: Well if it did, I know that I’d run out of the door screaming.

Samuel: Why? We’ve dealt with worse. WAYYYY worse.

Dean: I guess so..

Samuel: Guess so? We’ve dealt with demons, Wendigos, Wraiths, Skinwalkers, Shapeshifters, Shadow People..

Dean: I get the picture—

Samuel: Angels, Okamis, Reapers—

Dean [Impatiently]: I GET THE PICTURE!!

A sudden gust of wind blows through the top floor, causing Dean to sweep his gun around the room.

Dean [Panicking somewhat]: WHO GOES THERE??!!

Samuel: Dean. It’s the wind. See? That window boards came out.

Samuel inches past Dean, strolling across the dusty floor, the floorboards creaking beneath his feet as he walks over to the open window, looking down at the sands outside before turning back to Dean, shrugging.

Samuel: Nothing here.

Dean [Panicking]: Where the fuck did the screaming come from, then?!

Samuel: A hint: Not here. Look around, Dean: The floors are covered in dust an inch thick, there’s nothing here, and smell the air. What do you smell?

Dean: …Mould and old people.

Samuel: Exactly! No sulphur, meaning a demon can’t have been here!

Dean: What about a shadow person?

Samuel scans the walls: The only lone beam of moonlight piercing in is from the open window frame, and the only shadow upon there is Samuels, absolutely static.

Samuel: That’s a no.

A sudden, bloodcurdling scream fills the air, causing Samuel to almost jump out of his skin and jolt his head towards the window, his eyes narrowing.

Dean [Screaming]: WHAT WAS THAT?!?!

Phil’s Voice [Distant]: I told you not to pat my back, you idiot!

Jericho’s Voice [Distant]: My hand! My fucking hand! You cunt!

Ivan’s Voice [Distant]: Mudak! You just dropped ze refrigevator!

Jericho’s Voice [Distant]: Fuck off! My hand just got skewered!

Phil’s Voice [Distant]: Oh, my heart bleeds! And so does my back!

Samuel listens as the sound of faint slapping and scuffling fills the air. He shrugs, turning to Dean who is no longer there.

Samuel [Worried]: Dean?...DEAN?!

Samuel walks to the open doorway, peering his head left around the doorframe and looking at Dean, who is huddled in a corner inside an alcove, his knees tucked into his chest and his arms around his knees, shaking wildly.

Dean [Hysterically]: FUCK THIS! FUCK THIS!

Samuel [In disbelief]: You seemed so confident when we agreed to this, so what the hell happened?!


Samuel: C’mon was only the Four Stooges..

Dean looks over his shoulder at Samuel before giving a shaky sigh, standing up and turning around to face Samuel, clutching his Sawn-Off tightly.

Dean [Breathing heavily]: ..Okay..I’m okay..

Another bloodcurdling scream fills the air, this time sound much, much closer.

Samuel: That sound like it came from the Kebaborama!

Dean [Angrily]: I’LL KILL IT!!

Dean rushes past Samuel, hurtling down the stairs.

Samuel: But before you were afraid, and now—

Dean [Quickly]: ADRENALINE RUSH!!

Samuel [Shaking his head]: ….Jesus Christ..

Samuel follows Dean out of the building as he runs towards the Kebaborama, stopping at the bottom of the concrete steps and looking around quickly. Another bloodcurdling scream pierces the air, roughly in the direction of a building two buildings to the left of Kebaborama. Dean quickly rushes over to the bottom of the three-storey building, stopping at the bottom of the steps, almost paralyzed.

Samuel: What now?!

Dean: ..Intelligence snap! I AIN’T GOING IN!!

Samuel: Dean, the scream came from this building. We need to go in!

The scream emits again, around the rough area of the building. Dean responds by giving a fearful scream himself.

Samuel [Impatiently]: Oh, fuck it—

Samuel grabs Deans arms, lifting him slightly before darting forward, slamming the full force of Dean’s body into the wooden planks that bar access to the doorway and sending him straight into the building..

*Walker Street – 4:28am*

In Walker Street, the sky is starting to turn a lighter shade of purple as the sun begins to rise from the horizon. In a small, two-storey building that stands at the northern end of Walker Street, marking its end, Phil, Jericho, Steve and Ivan are busy scouring the buildings top floor of each and every corner. The lone room that stands on the top floor, filled with only a cast-iron bedframe and a few rusted cans, is riddled with dust and torn white patches of linoleum that still remain following the constant barrages from PMCs. Jericho leans under the bed with a bandaged hand, encrusted with black blood, pulling out a cracked brown leather-bound diary, glancing down at the simply embossed words reading “Diary” on the cover.

Jericho: Wow, look at this..An old diary..

Phil: How old? Valuable old or dirty old?

Jericho: …This thing is actually quite old..

Phil [Impatiently]: Then bin it! We don’t kitsch, we want rich!

Jericho ignores Phils orders, instead sitting down cross legged and opening the diary, reading the first page which has several scribbles upon the wrinkled, yellowing paper.

Jericho [Quietly]: Emilie Dejanel..Huh..nice name..

Ivan continues glancing around the room as Steve finishes scraping in the right hand corner before standing up and turning around, shrugging and shaking his head. Phil looks down at Jericho.

Phil: Oi, there’s nothing here.

Ivan’s head notices a peeling piece of linoleum on the floor. Shrugging, he slowly walks over to it, kneeling beside it.

Jericho: “Dear Diary, today marks the start of my new life. The life in the asylum was a horrible one, but after managing to have myself smuggled out in a crate of figs destined for Egypt, I ended up here. This place is a far cry from London, the air is clearer, the smell is nicer, and I can generally see a bright sun in the sky, as opposed to a thick, green smog that fills the air. I hope today will bring me luck, as I am currently resting following a several-mile trek from a nearby river.” Must be the Suez, huh?

Phil [Yawning]: Shut up, man.

Phil sits on the iron bedframe, bouncing on the springs noisily before swinging his feet around, laying down on it. Steve walks over, sitting on the edge as Ivan begins to peel the linoleum tile.

Jericho: “Dear Diary, today I walked into town and traded some scraps from my old petticoat to a wandering seller, who gave me a few items of food. I’m trying to survive her, but this town seems thankfully abandoned. I am enjoying the new life here, and it is extremely exotic to see my surroundings, from odd looking creatures with no legs that slide on the ground, to men with dark and swarthy skin as opposed to pale skin. This is better than the asylum upon which I found myself after an affair with my father’s footman—“ [Chuckling] ..Ooo! Getting saucy!

Phil [Growing more impatient]: Dude, you are seriously boring me.

Steve yawns loudly as Ivan tears up the scrap of linoleum, revealing four cracked floorboards which he begins to scratch at. Jericho flicks further through the diary, only for a cold, sharp gust of wind to pierce the room.

Steve [Rubbing his hands together vigorously]: …C-C-Cold!

Phil: It is getting…oddly quite nippy in here.

Jericho: “Dear Diary, I fear that my time spent in the asylum where I was incarcerated for sexual sins failed to quell my fire. I dreamt last night of being with fathers footman once again. While it was pleasurable, I was awoken by the sound of footsteps. I fear that I have been found, and must remain more low-key than I was previously. Luckily, I have quite a few pieces of fresh, albeit exotic, fruit left. I just wish my pet rat, Crumpet, was here to see this with me.”

The door suddenly and violently slams shut. Phil slowly raises his head, and Steve turns his head.

Phil [Confused]: …What the fuck?

Ivan fails to pull away the floorboards, instead clenching his fist and starting to smash them noisily.

Jericho: “Dear Diary, I was awoken by footsteps again, as well as a tickling sensation on my face. A rat whom I recognised by a small white mark on his back. Crumpet! Being joined by my friend made me ecstatic, but it made me wonder where he came from..”

Jericho shuts the diary suddenly, turning his head to the door.

Jericho [Hesitantly]: Did I see something?

Steve: Like?

Jericho: A shadow?

Steve: Mine!

Jericho: Nah..not yours..

Ivan successfully manages to pound in the floorboards, staring deep into the dark, dusty abyss that greets him. Slipping his hand into the hole, he rifles around. Jericho looks down at the diary, patting it.

Jericho: Might be an interesting read. This Emilie sounds like an interesting character!

Phil: Who names a rat “Crumpet”? Hell, who seduces a footman?

Jericho [Angrily]: It must be from the Victorian times, you uneducated heathen! An asylum for sexual deviancy? Petticoats? Footmen? VICTORIAN ERA!!

Phil: And she escaped to Egypt?

Jericho: Must have!

Ivan pulls out a tiny skeleton: A rats skeleton.

Ivan [Disturbed]: ……….Uh oh.

Steve [Confused]: Uh oh?

Ivan [Shaking slightly]: Uh oh!

Jericho [Confused]: Uh oh?!

Ivan [Panicking]: UH OH!!!

Phil [Starting to panic as well]: UH OH!

Jericho [Panicking]: UH OH!!

Ivan [Panicking more]: UH OH!!!!

Ivan slowly sets down the skeleton, choosing instead to thrust his hand back into the abyss.

Jericho [Calmly, Swallowing]: ….That….is a rat skeleton…

Phil: So? Buildings infected by rats. Big whoop!

Jericho: Fuck that, man! That’s too big of a coincidence!

Phil: Wow. Reading that thing scrambled your brain.

Jericho: It didn’t!

Ivan pulls out a skull: A dusty human skull, covered with cobwebs.

Ivan [Confused]: BIGGER UH OH!!

Phil, Jericho and Steve slowly turn their head to Ivan, grasping the skull. He shuffles around on his knees, facing them.

Jericho: I bet the building isn’t infested by humans, Phil.

Phil snatches the skull from Ivan’s hand before holding it out at arms length.

Phil [Over-dramatically]: ALAS! POOR YORICK!...I knew him, Horatio!

Phil sniggers as Ivan snatches the skull from him, stroking the scalp.

Ivan: My old human skull!

Jericho [Hesitantly]: Ivan, put it back! You’re desecrating bones!

Ivan [Laughing]: So? Ve desecrate everyving!!

Jericho [Bitterly]: Put. It. Back.

Ivan: Or vat? Your girlfriend vill show u—

The door suddenly snaps open, sending a piercing gust of freezing wind through the air.

Ivan: --p.

Phil: ….Baggsy not me going checking.

Jericho: Well, it ain’t me!

A figure flickers in the doorway, causing Ivan to suddenly set the skull back into the crawlspace.

Ivan: It vas him!

Ivan points at Jericho.

Jericho [Looking at Ivan in disbelief]: ME??!?! You dug up the skull!!!

Ivan [Shaking]: KILL HIM!! HE LIKES IT!!!

The figure fully appears in the doorway, glowing an ethereal shade of white. The figure is that of a young woman, her cold, pale violet eyes shining like diamonds in her skull, surrounded by abnormally dark sockets and pale, lifeless skin. Her bare feet glide inches above the ground, almost obscured by a flowing white petticoat, trimmed with a fine lace around the hem of the flowing skirt and the short sleeves at her biceps. The top few cords of the white silk corset were undone, showcasing her sexual deviancy in her lifetime, and revealing an ample, full-figured cleavage. Jericho gulps loudly, standing up and shuffling backwards against the back wall as Phil and Steve jump to their feet.

Jericho [Disturbed]:. ….Mother of God.

Phil [Panicking]: ….Where’s Dean and Samuel when you need them?!?!?

The figure glides a few inches towards them before stopping, giggling cruelly as they inch back into the wall. Ivan inches back towards an empty window-frame, staring at the woman as the small ghost of a grey rat with a white circle upon its back scuttles beside the womans side.

Jericho [Triumphantly]: See? It WAS Crumpet!!

Steve [Hastily]: Not good! NOT GOOD!

Jericho: …Why do the dangerous woman always look so hot?!

Phil: Avert thine eyes, Jericho! She will seduce you!

Jericho: She already has!

Phil shoves Ivan away towards Jericho, turning to the window and swan-diving straight out of it and towards the sands below.


Ivan turns to the window, diving out himself.


Steve turns around, walking into the wall and shaking his head before sidestepping in front of the window, diving out.


Jericho is the only one left in the room as he listens to the three soft thuds as his friends hit the sands. Jericho gulps, staring at the form of whom is presumably Emilie.

Jericho: Bugger.

Jericho slowly holds out the diary, his arm trembling. Emilie responds by holding out her right hand, her red-painted nails suddenly sharpening into claws. Jericho turns around, jolting towards the window and diving out to the sands below.


Jericho hits the sands with a loud thud as Emilie vanishes.

*Beale Street – 4:47am*

Back in Beale Street, Dean and Samuel are now in the top floor of the abandoned building, carefully scanning what appears to be the remains of a bedroom, complete with an oddly-intact, albeit rusted, cast-iron bedframe. Deans head suddenly snaps up from examining an empty fireplace.

Dean: You hear that?

Dean and Samuel strain their ears, listening carefully as they hear the sound of rustling, followed by the sound of meat tearing. Samuel carefully sneaks over to the empty window pane, looking down into the alleyway: A dark figure is crouched down, chewing on something. Samuel points down, turning his head to Dean and nodding before pressing his finger to his lips.

Samuel [Muttering]: Somethings down there…

Dean grins.

Dean: I’m going to shoot it.

Samuel: ….Adrenaline rush?

Dean: Yes! Plus, it can’t be a demon.

Samuel: Why not?

Dean: Do you smell sulphur?

Samuel: No, but—

Dean [Grinning]: It’s ass is mine!

Samuel [Calmly]: Let’s go about this carefully, alright?

Dean [Inanely]: Carefully?! Screw that, let’s shoot it!

Dean turns around, hurtling down the stairs. Samuel sighs, rubbing his eyes.

Samuel: Why can we never go about things carefully?

Samuel follows Dean down the stairs as he bursts out of the door, jumping over to the left of the steps and flattening his back against the wall. Samuel looks down at Dean, who presses his index finger over his lips.

Dean: …I’m going in.

Samuel [Underwhelmed]: ….Oooooooookay.


Dean twists around the wall and rushes into the alleyway, shining his flashlight at the figure who hisses loudly. The figure is revealed to be Crying Wolf, clutching a human skull covered in blood and scraps of muscle. Her lips and teeth are stained a bright red from the blood, as well as her white tanktop. She hisses violently, spitting a scrap of muscle onto the floor.

Samuel [Disturbed]: WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT THING?!?!

Dean: That’s Crying Wolf.

Samuel: ….I knew that.

Wolf: …What do you two juicy men want?

Dean: We’re he—[Disturbed]...Juicy?!

Wolf sets down the skull on the floor, licking her lips and walking out of the alleyway with a seductive sway in her hips, bearing down upon Dean and Samuel who step backwards as she walks into the moonlight, an evil smile spreading across her lips.

Wolf [Licking her lips]: ..Oh, so juicy..

Dean: Are you the fucker whose been causing the screaming?!

Wolf: …Yes…I slaughter PMCs in that alleyway whenever they stray near…Cut their heads off….eat their flesh…fry it…cook it..sometimes I keep them alive, peeling off strips of skin and nibbling it…like jerky…

Samuel [Retching slightly]: Oh fuck me. This is way worse than a werewolf!

Phil, Jericho, Steve and Ivan walk out from the Beale-Walker Square following their close encounter with an undead force, turning their heads and staring at Wolf whose eyes dart to them. She gives a large, bright grin, turning away from Dean and Samuel and walking towards them instead.

Wolf [Smiling sweetly]: …Hello boys..

Ivan: Guys. She’s not normal.

Steve [Panicking]: …She..She..She..She’s scary!!!

Jericho [Quietly] : Lads…don’t make a sudden move…

Phil [Whispering]: Psst..Ivan. Have your medicine?

Ivan: Yeah..Right pocket..

Phil’s hand snakes into the pocket of Ivans fur coat, pulling out one of the small, metallic injectors Ivan uses for his psychological medicine. The four remain stood still, paralyzed by fear as Wolf draws closer.

Wolf [Seductively]: ….Boys…I want you..

Phil: Guys, what I’m about to do should absolutely not be replicated by anyone here.

Jericho: Just do it.

Phil [Bitterly]: Oh, thanks for the sentiment you sour cunt!

Wolf quickly approaches Phil, grabbing his collar and forcefully marching him backwards across the square.

Phil: OH FUCK ME!!

Wolf [Smiling]: …I plan to…and then I’ll eat you and your entrails..

Dean and Samuel quickly run in, aiming their weapons at Wolf. Steve quickly reaches into Ivans pocket, pulling out a second metallic injector and charges at Wolf, letting out a loud, uncharacteristic war cry. Wolf shoves Phil away, turning around and looking at Steve who jumps at her. Wolf slams her fist into Steves gut as he lands, winding him. He lets out a surprised cough, but Wolfs eyes widen as her hands begin to twitch. Steve quickly presses down the plunger of the injector, releasing a clear fluid into Wolfs neck. She stumbles backwards, groaning loudly and clutching her neck as Steve stumbles back, clutching his gut. Phil quickly lunges forward, locking an arm around Wolfs neck and pulling her back, sitting down and forcing her into a sitting position, keeping her pinned. Wolf begins twitching violently, groaning loudly.

Jericho [Disturbed]: Can someone fill me in on what the fuck is going on?!?!?

Wolf falls unconscious quickly before her eyes shoot open, a sadistic grin spreading across her lips.

Wolf [Laughing under her breath]: ….Do you think it would be that easy?

Phil [Disturbed]: Oh motherfuck—

Phil quickly lets go of her, turning around and bolting straight out of the square. Jericho and Ivan quickly follow him, leaving Steve simply standing there, clutching his gut as Wolf strolls past him.

Wolf [Quietly]: ..Nice try, Steve…but it ain’t a problem…It’s a pleasure..

She pats his shoulder, strolling towards Samuel and Dean who continue aiming their weapons at her. Wolf yawns, pushing both of them aside.

Dean [Angrily]: HEY! DON’T IGNORE US!

Wolf: I’ve had my fill for tonight. Don’t make me hungry again.

Wolf walks down Beale Street calmly as Samuel and Dean exchange confused looks.

Samuel [Confused]: …What the fuck just happened?!

Dean: Well, I guess that explains the screaming and the blood.

Samuel: ..So what now?

Dean slips his Sawn-Off into the pocket of his jacket and pats Samuel on the arm.

Dean: Lamb and Flag for breakfast?

Samuel shrugs.

Samuel [Smiling slightly]: Sure!

Steve watches as Samuel and Dean stroll off into Beale Street, turning around and walking off towards Walker Street. Phil quickly darts into the Square.

Phil: Steve? Are you alright?

Steve: Yuppers.

Phil sighs, placing an arm around his back.

Phil: Some shit we have to deal with, huh?

Steve: Steve hungry!

Phil: Let’s get Jericho and Ivan out of handing, raid one more building..and then we’ll get some breakfast.

Steve [Chipper]: Alrighty!

Phil: ..By the way, where did you get the balls to jam a syringe into Wolfs neck?

Steve [Shrugging]: ….Random outburst!

Phil [Bluntly]: Steve, I will never understand you. NEVER.

*Dog and Handgun – 5:01am*

Back in the basement of the Dog and Handgun, Jon is busy holding a large metal lantern in his left hand, and a barbed-wire-covered crowbar in his right hand, making his way into the large hole. Jon looks around, noticing the wooden support beams holding up the tunnel as a walkie-talkie crackles on his chest. He sets the lantern down, holding a button.

Jon: What?

Brick: it human?

Jon: You know it.

Brick: Who built it?

Jon: Look, Brick, I’ve barely get halfway through it. The winds still blowing through, and this shit probably leads outside, alright? So I highly doubt someone would be stupid enough to write their name on the—Hold on a second.

Jon squints, noticing a discolouration on one of the vertical support beams. He slowly walks over to it, tilting his head and noticing the words “Dick Woz Ere” carved into the beam.

Brick: Someone was stupid enough, right?


Brick: What?

Jon [Angrily]: It’s Dick! Dick’s been stealing our shit! That fucking snake!

Brick: Wow. Don’t do anything hasty up in there—

Jon [Angrily]: Hasty? I’m going to tear his fucking head off! How’s THAT for hasty?!

Brick [Calmly]: ..Well, yeah, that’s quite hasty—

Jon: Jon out. I’m going to kill that fucker!

Brick: Jon, for fucks sake, do—

Jon releases the button and leans down, grasping his lantern before heading forward. It only takes three minutes of slow walking through the dank, cold tunnel before Jon reaches a set of hastily-constructed wooden steps. Jon quickly jogs up them, surfacing in the basement of what is presumably the Lamb and Flag. Holding his lantern out, he approaches a pile of four boxes, noticing the Dog and Handguns logo stamped, in red, upon them.


Jon sets his lantern down on the box, turning around and walking past the small, open hatchway that leads down into the tunnel before turning left, grasping the cold, steel handle of a wooden door and opening it before turning left, jogging up a few concrete steps and turns right, grabbing a golden handle which he pushes forward. The door is unusually heavy, but Jon manages to force it to open slightly before he sidles through the gap, emerging right behind the bar of the Lamb and Flag with Dean, Samuel, That Hispanic Guy, That Random Guy, That Other Random Guy, Johan, Stoofer, Mustafa, Maurice and Moe, all sitting around a group of four rectangular tables set together, looking over at Jon, who is now breathing ferally through his nose. He grasps the door, slamming it shut and revealing Dick who is stood there, staring straight at Jon.

Dick [Nervously]: ….Uhh..hey…Jon…What’s wrong?

Jon slowly advances towards Dick..

*ReLoaded – 5:16am*

A few doors down in the weaponry shop of ReLoaded, Tavi is sitting up in bed, unable to sleep. Despite the room being cascaded in darkness, she simply gives a large sigh, causing Courtney to roll over in bed, looking at her and giving a small yawn. Tavi turns her head, glancing at Courtney blankly before turning her head back, lowering it and giving another deep sigh.

Courtney [Calmly]: Tavi, why are you so morose all of a sudden?

Tavi’s head snaps up quickly, turning to Courtney.

Tavi [Bitterly]: I’m worried, alright?! Worried I’m the last of my kind!

Courtney: Oh.

Tavi: Yeah. I know it’s nothing for either of you to worry about since you’re run –of-the-mill homo sapiens, but in these shoes? It’s fucking terrifying!!

Courtney [Slightly hurt]: Wow, alright, I was just wondering..

Tavi lets out a small sigh, clenching her fists before unclenching them again, pulling her knees closer to her chest.

Tavi [Sadly]: I just wish I knew for certain if there was another one like me out there. I don’t want to die and have that be the end of the road for whatever I am. I want to get out there and meet others like me, and not feel left out..

Courtney: What are you talking about, feeling left out? You’ve integrated here!

Tavi: But not with my own kind..I mean, I do appreciate being integrated here, and I do appreciate the effort people put in to overlook this..freakish façade..but..I want to meet people like me. I want to be part of a community where I don’t have to be afraid of how I look.

Courtney: Except people aren’t afraid of how you look here.

Tavi [Scoffing]: Do they even care?

Courtney: No.

Tavi: I’d like people to at least care, and not just accept me through default by ignoring me!

Courtney [Starting to grow impatient]: We don’t ignore you!

Tavi: I’m the Medic, and the only person who comes to me is Sal. Because he’s a hypochondriac and because Billy makes him believe he has ridiculous diseases.

Courtney: He might have them!

Tavi [Bluntly]: Courtney, Disco Fever is not a real disease.

Courtney [Scoffing and shrugging]: Look, just….I don’t know. What can I say? I don’t know. Is there anyone else like you out there? I don’t know, but that just makes you very special, like the rare flower when it blooms. You’re exotic, a rarity, and I’ve seen you turn heads..So don’t worry about integrating into society, alright? You’re there.

Tavi: Only here. I have to cover up in a hijab when it comes to travelling outside of here.

Courtney: Oh, right, because that’s why the Mercenary Academy took you in!

Tavi [Angrily]: THEY CREATED ME!!

Courtney [Snapping]: AND HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT, HUH?!?!

The room falls deadly silent as Tavi’s mouth opens, but words fail to come out.

Courtney [Ranting angrily]: You don’t, alright!? No-one knows what you are. Don’t you find it suspicious that two years ago, you were taken in by government officials who had no idea just what the fuck you were? Don’t you find it odd that you only remember the Academy as a place that trained you how to patch wounds, and not as a nursery? You know what, why am I even having this conversation with you? You want answers, go to the Mother!!

Tavi [Sadly]: …And how would she know what I am?..

Courtney: Because the womans lived through it all and seen it all, alright? She’s the one who took you in, so she MUST have answers!

The door to the bedroom opens suddenly as Wolf stands there, clutching a raw liver in her hands with blood smeared around her chest and around her mouth and jaw, smiling contently.

Wolf [Groaning happily]: …Was so hungry..But then I heard hostility, so I came up to check it out…What’s wrong?

Courtney: Tavi’s going through a quarter-life crisis.

Wolf: Worried about where she came from and who she is?

Courtney: Yup.

Tavi [Snuffling]: It’s a serious worry!!

Wolf: Of course it is, deary! But it shouldn’t bother you to be a rare flower…After all, you can’t be the only one of your kind..

Tavi: And how do you know that?

Wolf: A gut feeling.

Tavi [Bluntly]: ..You have raw flesh swimming around your guts. I’d rather not trust your gut feeling.

Wolf: Trust me, alright? All will work out in the end. Until then..please just try and enjoy life for what it is, alright?

Wolf strolls over to the foot of Tavi’s bed, climbing on the end of it and kneeling down, looking at her carefully.

Wolf: Trust me.

Wolf throws the liver out of the open window above Tavi, leaning in and taking both of her snowy cheeks in her hands, leaning in and kissing her deeply on the lips. Tavi blushes deeply as Wolf slowly pulls away, smiling sweetly and leaving the snowy fur around Tavis jaw bloodstained. Tavi gives a small hiccup.

Tavi [Venomously]: …Don’t ever do that again when you’ve been eating raw liver..

Wolf [Giggling]: Sorry..You’ve got a little..uhh…

Wolf motions around her mouth. Tavi glares at Wolf, pressing a hand to her lips and pulling it away, looking at it and noticing the blood.

Tavi [Angrily]: WOLF!!!

Wolf: Don’t blame me, you’re just so adorable!

Tavi lunges forward, tackling Wolf straight onto the floor as Courtney swings her legs out of bed, getting to her feet.

Courtney [Calmly]: I’ll go get the coffee, then.

*The Suez – 5:40am*

Back under the waters of the Suez, one of Ocelot’s battleships granted to the Praying Mantis PMC’s is steaming towards the U-Boats rough position. It stops slowly, skimming across the water and sending a set of waves rolling over an inky shadow in the depths of the waters.

In the U-Boat, the interior is filled with the sound of boots pounding on metal as the various crewmen squeeze desperately past eachother, manning their stations. In the control room stands Robbie, Dave, Second Watch Officer Lindemaan and Rudolf. Rudolf is busy examining the radar, noticing that the battleship has stopped.

Rudolf [Shouting above the sound of pounding feet]: SIR! WE FEAR THE ENEMY MAY BE GETTING READY TO FIRE!

Rudolf rushes over to the periscope, pulling the viewer down and pressing his eyes against the glass, scanning eagerly as the battleship stands clearly before the rising sun, casting a haze of orange against the periscope as the U-Boat remains in stasis between diving and rising, getting as close to the surface as possible without fully giving away its position. Dave is sitting calmly at one of the metal tables beside the radar which is bolted to the floor, reading an old issue of Private Magazine.

Robbie [Barking]: MAN THE TORPEDOES!!!

Rudolf [Shouting]: MAN THE TORPEDOES!!

Dave [Laughing]: AND TORPEDO THE MAN!!

Robbie [Venomously]: Dave…Shut up.

Heinrich runs into the room, squeezing past all of them as he mans a small communication phone on the central pillar which holds the periscope, grabbing it and holding it to his ear.

Heinrich [Hastily]: Makes me wish the United States just decommissioned the fucking battleships instead of going ahead with construction!! PERMISSION GRANTED TO FIRE TORPEDOES!! PREPARE THE PAYLOAD!!

Rudolf [Panicking somewhat]: Oh, fuck me. This thing’s big. Really big. I’d say we might be staring down one of the big three. And to make it worse, they’ve fitted them with Y-guns, too! TWO OF THEM!

Dave [Confused]: …Big three?

Rudolf: Yeah, big three. Ocelot granted the Praying Mantis PMC three battleships after he took control of the Sons of the Patriots. I think we’re seeing one right now, but I can’t get a read on the name.

Dave: What’s a Y-Gun?

Robbie [Bluntly]: You fucking idiot, it fires depth charges from the centreline of the ship. It only fires small ones, but by God, it only NEEDS small ones when we’re underwater. One small explosion, and a hole gets ripped in the hull and this U-boat becomes a coffin.

Rudolf: They appear to lack a rack, though.

Dave [Sniggering]: Teehee..rack—

Robbie: Dave, shut up. Them lacking a rack is a good thing, since it means we only have to fear that bloody Y-gun.

Rudolf [Speaking up]: Two Y-guns.

Robbie: Two? C’mon, Rudolf, now you’re just being—

Two simultaneous explosions rock the U-boat violently from side to side as the sound of a flume of water jettisoning upwards fills the air, signalling a very narrow miss.




Rudolf: We’re firing magnetic pistols! If we get too close, then we could get hit ourselves!

Robbie [Confused]: I thought we fired contact torpedoes!


Robbie: That’s not my job!

Rudolf [Angrily]: WHAT IS YOUR JOB?!?!

Robbie [Calmly]: …To wear my hat and order you dicks around!

Dave [Bluntly]: That’s all you’re skilled to do.


Rudolf: Turning around could take minutes, and by the time the battleship finds out, we won’t even be halfway turned! It’d just get on top of us!

Robbie: So?

Lindemaan [Calmly]: I could man the deck gun. It would be a suicide mission, but it would slow them down enough to pull back.

Robbie: Fuck that. Fire the torpedoes.

Rudolf: Sir—

Robbie [Angrily]: HAVE YOU FIRED THEM YET?!? NO!!

Lindemaan: How far away is the ship?

Rudolf: Seventy yards—

Robbie: Adding in that we are aiming for the ships centre…Fire them.

Rudolf: Sir—

Robbie [Angrily]: I SAID FIRE THEM!! If we die, then we die with this boat as our coffin! No man shall look back, nor shall any of us regret what we are about to do! We are the mercenaries who are fighting, not the lazy peasants back in Beale Street! If Ocelot wants a fight, then we will take it to him, and we will, by God, DIE TRYING!!! FIRE THEM!!

Heinrich [Down the communicator]: Are you ready to fire? OPEN FIRE, DAMMIT! OPEN FIRE!

The U-Boat rocks violently as hissing and bubbling sounds emit from near it as three torpedoes, equipped with magnetic pistols, shoot towards the battleship. Two more explosions rock the U-Boat violently, shaking it roughly and causing the members of the control room to fall to the floor. Rudolf pulls himself to his feet, rushing over to the right hand side and viewing a control panel situated on a computer station.


Heinrich scrambles to his feet, grabbing the communicator and pressing a white button.


A red emergency light bathes the control room as the inhabitants are thrown backwards, hitting the wall behind them as the U-Boat begins to tilt upwards thanks to only one of the ballast tanks being hit and forced to release the air, thus half-surfacing the U-Boat. In a heartbeat, the U-Boat slowly begins to straighten out as the second, intact ballast is released, while the magnetic pistols make contact with the battleship, sensing the magnetic field and detonating violently. Robbie claws himself to his feet, tearing off his kriegsmarine overcoat to make himself lighter, and grasps the periscope, looking on as the battleship begins to snap in half. The torpedoes, having made contact with the underside of the ship, cause far more damage, effectively splitting the battleship in half and allowing the force of the water rushing into the scorched hole to do the rest. Robbie watches as several shadows, deciding the damage is far too futile to even salvage, dive off of the deck of the ship, leaving those inside the ship to die in a horrible inferno. A violent, horrifying creaking of metal fills the air as the ship begins to fold inwards, slowly falling into the Suez. The U-Boat slams up to the surface roughly, allowing the men to get to their feet.

Robbie [Calmly]: We scored a direct hit. The ship is down.

Lindemaan: We need to assess damage, evacuate and call for repairs. No way can we be effective without a main ballast tank.

Robbie: Affirmative—Hey, I give the orders here!

Lindemaan [Calmly]: I was merely making a suggestion.

Rudolf begins gasping violently, his back leaning against the central pillar of the control room. Heinrich rushes over to him, wrapping his arms around him as Rudolf continues to gasp.

Heinrich [Soothingly]: It’s alright..It’s alright..

Robbie: Heinrich, give the order: Prepare for evacuation. Today, we survived.

Dave pulls himself up, looking at his crumpled copy of Private Magazine before giving a small sob.

Dave [Sadly]: MY TITTY MAG!!

Robbie shakes his head, clasping his hands together behind his back and standing tall as Heinrich mans the communicator.

Robbie [Calmly]: Today, we are lucky. But tomorrow, we must not count on luck alone.

*Lamb and Flag –6am*

In the Lamb and Flag, Jon is busy holding the crowbar against the side of Dicks head as Dean, Samuel, Karab, That Hispanic Guy, That Random Guy, That Other Random Guy, Johan, Mustafa, Stoofer, Maurice and Moe watch on.

Jon: No-one move, or the asshole gets it.

Dick: I would really appreciate it if someone could tell me just what the fuck is going on here!!!

Jon: I came here from the Dog and Handgun—

Dick: Well, duh.

Jon grimaces violently, shuddering in rage as he resists the urge to grind the crowbar into Dick’s face.


Stoofer: Hey, that’s a nice trick, Dick!

Dick: Thank you!

Jon: So tell me, Dick: How long did you think you would get away with stealing our supply of salted peanuts?!

Dick [Calmly]: A few months.

Jon: A few mo—How long has that tunnel been there?!

Dick [Calmly]: Three months.


That Random Guy: We’re trying to have breakfast here.

Jon: Blow it out your ass! I ain’t leaving til Dick pays me back for stealing my stuff!

Dick: Fuck off, you bleedin’ psychopath! It’s all fair in love and war!

Jon [Angrily]: Oh, so you want a war, then? YOU WANT A WAR?!?

Dick: Anything that makes it so I don’t have to pay you back.

Jon [Bluntly]: I’m going to tear your throat open.

Dick: No, you won’t.

Jon: Why?

Dick [Smirking]: Cause all is fair in love and war. I knew you would find me out eventually, that’s why I had a pneumatic boxing glove installed under the bar to be activated by a trigger.

Jon simply looks at Dick, twisting his head slightly to try looking under the bar.

Jon: I see nothing.

Dick: Exactly. I installed it under the bar.

Jon: But it’s not under the bar!

Dick: Sorry, did I say bar? I meant belt!

Jon: Under the bel—

Dick jabs his foot out, kicking a small metal pressure plate that’s installed beneath the bar, just under the counter. A tile from below Jon breaks away as a pneumatic boxing glove shoots up, hitting Jon square in the ground. Jon drops the crowbar, letting out a high-pitched squeal and doubling over, clutching his crotch and letting Dick go. Dick turns around, shrugging nonchalantly before taking a few steps to the right as Jon collapses forward, clutching his groin in agony.

That Hispanic Guy: Wow, I never thought it’d work!

Dick: It didn’t: Putting the tile over it kinda cut the power. I wanted to sterilise him, not hurt him.

Johan: Well, it worked somewhat, then.

Dick [Shrugging]: Indeed it did.

Dick looks down at Jon, giving a mock wave as Jon’s legs twitch in agony. Dick simply reaches into the pocket of his pants, pulling out a single quarter and throwing it onto Jon.

Dick: Here, you might want this to fix the blood-pissing problem you’ll have.

Jon’s legs twitch more violently in response.

Jon [In agony]: ..I think I’m bleeding internally..

*Beale Street – 6:11am*

With the sun now beginning to rise and cast a warm glow over Beale Street, the night has been lifted, and now the streets are beginning to awake and breathe as one as their inhabitants awaken. Down Beale Street walk Steve, Jericho, Phil and Ivan, still thickly wrapped up from their unsuccessful night of scavenging. Beside Jericho walks Tavi, and several feet behind her walks Courtney and Wolf.

Tavi: There might be anthros out there. People…like me.

Jericho [Calmly]: Maybe. Or maybe there isn’t.

Tavi: I’m trying to keep my head held high, Jericho. I believe there are more like me.

Jericho [Calmly]: Indeed.

Tavi: So..did you guys find anything of use?

Jericho gulps loudly.

Ivan: Jevicho found a book.

Tavi: Valuable?

Phil [Bluntly]: Depends on your meaning of the word valuable.

Tavi [Confused]:…Why???

Jericho [Bitterly]: Phil…DON’T.

Phil [Calmly]: He’s being haunted, apparently.

Tavi [Laughing slightly]: …Really???

Jericho [Glaring at Phil]: It’s kind of a ..long story..

Ivan [Calmly]: I’ll say.

Jericho [Angrily]: IT ISN’T FUNNY!!!

Phil [Sniggering]: Oh, it is!

Steve: Jerry being haunted by strange woman!

Tavi [Smirking]: So, you took a lesson of Phil, then?

Phil: The student has become the master—

Jericho [Angrily]: AH, FUCK YOU BOTH!!

Jericho storms ahead of all of them, heading towards the Lamb and Flag.


Tavi: ..Who is he talking to??

Phil [Laughing]: Who cares? It’s funny as fuck!!

*Lamb and Flag – 6: 15am*

Jericho storms into the Lamb and Flag, looking sour. The tables have been parted, and the Hispanic Mechanics, aside from That Hispanic Guy, have notably departed. Billy, Sal and Vince are sat at a table, drinking steaming cups of coffee.

Billy: Look what the cat dragged in!

Jericho: Fuck you….LEAVE ME ALONE!

Vince: …Are you talking to yourself?

Jericho sits down at a lone table, huffing violently.

Jericho [Thankfully, Breathing out]: …She’s gone now

Sal: Well, he’s out of it. Another broken mind joins the ranks.

Jericho: What?

Sal: You’re talking to someone who isn’t there.

Jericho: She’s gone now!

Billy: Right, Jericho’s gone. How many sane people do we have left?

Sal [Raising an eyebrow]: …..None?

Billy: I like to think myself of sane!

Sal: Then why are you wearing nothing but a kilt?

Billy looks down at his kilt, shrugging.

Billy [Chuckling]: Comfortable.

Sal: Exactly. You’re nuts!

Billy: What about them?

Sal: are nuts.

Billy [Sighing in relief]: OH! Thank God, I thought you were looking at them!

Sal [Sneering]: Keep ‘em tucked away, you sicko.

Phil, Steve, Tavi and Ivan stroll into the bar, looking over at Jericho.

Phil [Laughing]: Hey! There’s the haunted bastard!

Jericho [Bitterly]: Fuck off..

Phil: Aww..he needs cheering up!

Dick: Alright, are you assholes going to order something?

Phil [Cheerfully]: Usual for me, Dick!

Dick pulls out a bottle of Jose Cuervo Silver from beneath the bar, pouring a half-full tumbler as Phil walks over, setting down a bill and taking the glass. Steve, Tavi and Ivan sit down at Jericho’s table as his head remains in his hands.

Tavi: Wow. And I thought I was glum.

Jericho: It’s over..My life is over..

Ivan: Vhy?

Jericho: I’m being haunted by a woman..

Phil: Eh, it ain’t the end of your life..It’s when they retaliate..right, Tavi?

Phil sits between Tavi and Ivan, setting down his glass.

Tavi: Yup. Why are you asking me?

Phil: Well, considering you nor Wolf like me.

Tavi: I like you! It’s just you’re nowhere near what I’m looking for.

Phil: I know, if I grew a tail—

Tavi [Bluntly]: And got a six pack, and shaved the beard, and oiled and tanned yourself up—

Phil: Thanks, I think I’ve got the picture.

Jericho [Under his breath]: Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck…

Steve: Get Jerry his usual?

Ivan: Yeah, do it bevore he commits suicide or someving.

Wolf and Courtney stroll into the bar, making a beeline for Tavi’s table. Courtney sits between Jericho and Ivan, while Wolf grabs a chair, pulling it around and sitting between Phil and Tavi. Wolf slowly turns her head to Phil, giving a small, sickeningly-sweet smile.

Wolf [Seductively]: Hello Phil..

Phil: Hello Wolf.

Wolf: Tell me…how’s that liver of yours? Juicy?..

Phil: I’m pickling it so that eating it would kill you via alcohol poisoning.

Wolf: What about your lungs?

Phil [Shrugging]: Took up smoking.

Wolf: And your brain?

Phil: I took up smoking weed.

Wolf: …And your heart?

Phil [Impatiently]: ….Wolf, shut up.

Tavi [Giggling]: She just wants a bite!

Jericho [Inanely]: Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

Ivan: Vill somevone just punch him out?!

Wolf [Smiling]: How cute..he panics..

Steve strolls back over to the table, taking his seat.

Sal: Jesus, I’m glad I’m not sitting over there.

Wolf: Sal. Be quiet.

Sal [Hastily]: Yes ma’am.

Billy slaps Sal’s arm, scowling at him.

Billy [Angrily]: Yeh fookin’ pussy!

Sal: Hey, you want to mess with her? Go right ahead. I refuse to!

Billy [Quickly]: Fuck no! I’ve messed with tha’ for the pas’ few mornin’s!

Wolf slowly turns her head, looking at Billy and giving a small, seductive wink, causing Billy to gulp loudly.

Vince [Grinning]: I think she likes you!

Billy: Go get beat up by a lassie again, yeh Sassenach!

Vince [Angrily]: Just let it go, Billy!

Billy: NEVER!

Dick walks over to Wolf’s table, carrying a pint glass of Carling with whipped cream on top of it in his hand.

Dick: Here you go, one Jericho morning special coming right up.

Ivan [Sneering]: Zat shit never vails to disgust me..

Jericho [Mumbling]: Shut up..

Jericho takes the glass, taking a deep drink and sighing happily.

Jericho: How I like it..warm!

Wolf: Hey, Dick, can I get some raw bacon here?

Dick looks down at Wolf, blinking rapidly as if to come to terms with her odd request.

Dick [Warily]: …….Ooookay.

Dick walks over to the bar, giving a shrill whistle.

Dick [Bellowing]: OI! MAURICE! BACON!

Maurice’s Voice: Aye, lad! Crispy?

Dick: NO! RAW!

Maurice’s Voice [In Disbelief]: …Raw?

Wolf: What can I say? Loooooooooooooooong night..

Jericho: At least you’re not haunted. And your hands aren’t cut open.

Phil: Shut up. My back go—

Wolf looks at Phil, tilting her head cutely.

Wolf: Go on..

Phil [Quickly]: I said nothing.

Wolf: Is your back red raw and..cut open?

Phil [Quickly]: NOPE! IT’S FINE!

Wolf smiles sweetly, pulling her hand back and slapping Phil roughly on his back. Phil remains sitting straight, albeit trembling in silent agony.

Phil [Voice quavering]: See?...Didn’t…feel a….thing!

Phil collapses off his chair, clutching his back. Wolf quickly lunges down, pulling off his parka and pulling up his thermal, revealing several deep gashes in his back from where Jericho accidentally smashed the lightbulbs he was carrying after patting him on the back. Wolf carefully shakes the glass out of the parka, leaning in and lightly stroking over the cuts, like a lion running its paws over a fresh kill.

Wolf [Happily]: ..It’s like a buffet table!

Steve [Panicked slightly]: Wolf! Don’t! He’s in pain!

Phil [Groaning]: It’s okay, Steve…Do me a favour….when they cremate me, spread my ashes over the Riverside…so I can choke Geordies after my death..

Wolf [Pouting]: I’m not going to kill you, you big baby!

Phil: Please do!

Tavi: Jeez, at least you’re not having an existential crisis!

Ivan [Bluntly]: Indeed!

Maurice walks out of the kitchen with a plate of raw bacon. Wolf sniffs deeply, her head snapping around to Maurice.

Wolf [Grinning]: Lay it on his back..

Maurice: ….I’ll pass.

Wolf@: ..You’re looking tender toda—

Maurice [Quickly]: Sorry Phil.

Maurice simply dumps the bacon on Phil’s back as he lays there, smashing his head repeatedly off the floor.

Billy: Can yeh keep it doon?

Phil: NEVER!

Phil slams his head down violently, knocking himself unconscious. At that moment, the doors to the Lamb and Flag suddenly shoot open as Lynch appears in the doorway, looking over them.


The pub remains relatively silent. Lynch scans the room again, opening his arms.

Lynch: I SAID—

Jericho: We heard..

Tavi: Maybe there is another like me..maybe.

Ivan [Bluntly]: So you’ve said.

Tavi: Does anyone care about my plight?

Courtney: We’ve already clarified that there are people who care.

Tavi: ..Just feels like I’m not even alive..

Jericho [Shrugging]: Where there’s pain, there’s life. Just look at Phil.

Tavi: …Maybe I’ll go goth…D’you think I could pull it off?

Ivan [Shaking his head]: …

Wolf [Disgusted]: Euch! There’s glass in him!

Jericho [Chuckling]: What’s more amazing is how none of it hit his spine!

Lynch: And this is my kingdom. How sad.

Lynch simply stands there, letting out a small sigh.

Lynch [Sighing]: I’ll make soldiers out of you bastards someday….one day..

Jericho [Bluntly]: But until then, shut up and let me drink in peace.

The scene fades.


-- With tensions beginning to brew between the PMCs and Mercenaries following the successful aversion of an attack by Robbie and his crew, how long can the inhabitants of Beale and Walker Street last before the war comes to them? What will Jericho do about being haunted? Will Phil finally find his paralysation one day? Will Vince ever avenge his humiliation at the hands of an Israeli agent? And will Dean and Samuel ever get this much exposure in the blog ever again? Tune in next time, to witness a mercenary night out, more cameo appearances, more U-Boat mishaps, and more swift and blinding violence!

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