Part IX - Dogs, Handguns, Booze And Bastards

*Phil, Jericho, Ivan and Steve's House*

In the darkened house of Phil, Ivan, Jericho and Steve, Jericho is laid on the couch, snorting and grunting loudly in his sleep, despite sunlight pouring through a gap in the
dirt-riddled curtains hanging loosely over the window to the left of the wooden door. He gives a small grunt, shaking slightly and pulling the woollen blanket over his body tighter, shuffling his head harder into the pillow.

Jericho [Sleepily]: Mmm..Martha…stop…Mmm..

Jericho shuffles slightly, groaning under his breath.

Jericho: C’mon…stop…Your lips are so fucking cold..

Jericho’s eyes slowly open, screaming loudly as he realises there is nothing there. The door to Phils room flies open and he runs out, wearing nothing but a grey t-shirt, blue boxer shorts and carrying an iron poker. He lets out a violent war cry, swinging the poker violently in the air.

Phil [Surprised]: WHAT IS IT?!?!?

Jericho [Shocked, Gasping]: THAT-THAT-THAT-THAT CREEPY GHOST BITCH TRIED TO SEDUCE ME!!!

Phil’s face falls as he looks at Jericho.

Phil [Nonchalantly]….Oh. Well, goodnight.

Phil lowers the poker, turning around to his room. Jericho quickly sits up, looking over at him.

Jericho [Angrily]: WHAT?!?!? IS THAT IT?!?!? “Oh”?!?!

Phil [Calmly]: Jericho, I’m a fighter, not a priest. What do you want me to do? Ask her nicely? Besides, she’s not even there! You were probably just dreaming!

Jericho: I wasn’t dreaming of sex!

Phil [Groaning]: Fine, you fucking baby..

Phil sighs, turning around and rubbing his eyes and looking around the darkened room.

Phil: Oi, Emilie, if that’s even your fucking name, leave Jericho alone!

Silence. Phil gives a half-hearted shrug.

Phil [Yawning]: Well, I tried, she won’t listen. Goodnight.

Phil turns around, slinging the poker under his right arm and walking towards his room.

Jericho [In disbelief]: Is that it?!?!?

Phil: You only said to ask her nicely!!

Jericho [Angrily]: FINE!! SLEEP, YOU BASTARD!!

Phil: FINALLY!

Phil walks towards his room, slamming the door shut behind him. Jericho gives a small sigh, rubbing his eyes as a hand grasps his. He yelps loudly, stopping suddenly and sighing.

Jericho [Sighing] Fuck this, I’m getting a priest.

*Port Said*

In an open-topped shipping warehouse in Port Said, Robbie’s U-Boat, the scourge of the sea, has been temporarily decommissioned. Hanging in mid-air in the middle of the warehouse thanks to several steel cables held in place with the assistance of a crane normally used to load and unload shipping crates, two sets of wooden scaffolding have been set up in a large gap in the floor in the middle of the warehouse, denoting its previous status as a dry dock. One scaffold extends high, up to touch the bottom middle of the U-Boats hull, where one of the ballast doors is busy being welded back on by a team of several mechanics, while three other mechanics are busy checking the hydraulics inside the U-Boat itself to ensure it can be deployed. The second scaffold extends much higher than its brother, extending up to the right-hand side of the U-boat just enough to reach the deck, where another set of smaller scaffolding has been set up uneasily. Five mechanics are busy with welding, examining the damage and pounding the sheets of metal that will make a new right-hand Foreplane which was destroyed just a day earlier by a PMC attack. Robbie watches from the south of the warehouse, his eyes mainly scanning the mechanics fixing the ballast tank door as he keeps his hands clasped behind his back, his fur-collared leather overcoat taut on his body, yet pristine, especially compared to the oily vests and overalls the mechanics are wearing. Johan, wearing a tanktop that is barely even white anymore and stained with oil, rushes over, rubbing his oil-ridden palms on his cargo pants.

Johan: Robbie, the ballast door is nearing completion. We will need to check the hydraulics, however, in a live test.

Robbie: Live test?

Dave, who was sitting at an abandoned metal desk behind Robbie on a wooden chair, busy spinning a globe in boredom, looks up, his eyes widening.

Dave [Slightly worried]: Shit, you’re joking! A live test could kill us! If the repairs aren’t correct, we’ll sink like a stone!

Johan: Have confidence, my friends. We would not allow you to sail under dangerous conditions.

Dave: So you’ll be sailing with us?

Johan lets out a loud, bellowing laugh.

Johan [Loudly]: Hell no!

Dave: So you’re saying that we have to test this thing in the fucking water?

Johan: I’m not saying that. I’m implying it would be best. After all, being in a large battle under fire would be the last time that you would want your ballast tank to suddenly malfunction and sink you to the oceans floor.

Robbie: He has a point, Dave.

Dave [Bluntly]: You first.

Robbie [Snidely]: I need my crew, underling.

That Hispanic Guy, wearing a pristine white suit, red shirt and white tie, strolls over, whistling happily to himself and looking up at the mechanics pounding away at the metal, the sounds of grunting and hammering filling the warehouse.

That Hispanic Guy [Happily]: That sound…Music to this latinos ears!!

Johan: Remember: They get off early.

That Hispanic Guy: Oh yeah, Robbie, we’re finishing early tonight.

Robbie [Quietly]: ….Why?

Johan: Because it’s party night at the Dog and Handgun! Male night out!

That Hispanic Guy gestures excitedly as the mechanics raise up their worktools, whooping once in unison before continuing to work.

That Hispanic Guy [Laughing loudly]: Si! Sisisisisisisisisisi! Alcohol! Women! Texas Hold ‘Em!

Robbie [Sneering]: Ah, yes, a night out. Where the male gender of the human race play card games while eating knots of salted dough called pretzels and consume vast amounts of fermented fruit, vegetables and yeast which has been liquidized into alcohol.

Dave: ..You really don’t have to sound like a pretentious cunt, Robbie.

Robbie [Quietly]: I sound educated, peasant.

That Hispanic Guy: Woah woah woah, gringos, let’s all be friends here! Robbie, the work will take forty-eight hours to complete…now….where’s our next payment for this? Fixing a U-Boat doesn’t come cheap!

Robbie gives a half-hearted grunt, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a gold bullion embossed with a swastika, handing it to That Hispanic Guy who giddily takes it, darting off into the south-east corner of the warehouse and stroking it, giggling to himself. Johan rubs his eyes, shaking his head and walking over as Robbie looks over his shoulder at Dave.

Robbie: Shoo.

Dave [Raising an eyebrow]: …Gesundheit?

Robbie: I meant fuck off. Do what the others have done and leave. Take leave while you can, go and get—

Dave lets out a happy squeal, vanishing in a cloud of dust as he turns around and bolts out of the rear door of the warehouse.

Robbie: --drunk. Wow, hope he’s got some good shoes on. It’s a long run from here to Romani.

Robbie shakes his head, dusting off his coat and continuing to watch the mechanics work as Johan slaps a hand on That Hispanic Guys right shoulder. He twists around, gnawing on a corner of the gold bullion.

Johan [Shaking his head]: …….I won’t even ask.

That Hispanic Guy: …I was…testing to see if it was real.

Johan: Where did he manage to get Nazi gold?

That Hispanic Guy [Cheerfully]: DOES IT MATTER?!??!? MECHANICS!!! WORK HARD!! FOR TONIGHT WE DINE IN THE DOG AND HANDGUN!!!

The mechanics turn their heads to That Hispanic Guy, grunting before returning to work. That Hispanic Guy gestures excitedly to the mechanics.

Johan: Maybe you should let me announce that we’re getting off work early to get drunk.

That Hispanic Guy: Do it, then!

Johan twists around, cupping his hands around his mouth.

Johan [Loudly]: HEY, AMIGOS!!!! WORK HARD, BECAUSE IN JUST A FEW HOURS THE DRINKS ARE ON THE BOSS!!!!

The mechanics cheer wildly, throwing their tools into the air as Johan turns to That Hispanic Guy, nodding successfully. That Hispanic Guy simply stands there, dumbstruck.

That Hispanic Guy [Sneering]: Fuck you! I’m not buying the drinks!

*Beale-Walker Square*

In the small Square connecting Beale Street and Walker Street, Steve is sitting on an office chair, wearing a white t-shirt and grey boxer shorts, having clearly just been woken up. In stark contrast, Rex, Johnny and Tim are stood in front of him, each man clad in different suits. Tim hoists up his boom-mic, looking over at Johnny.

Tim: Well, this may be the first under-dressed guest we’ve seen.

Steve [Yawning]: …..You woke me up.

Rex [Sneering]: Disgusting.

Steve growls and Rex flinches.

Johnny: Down, boy!

Johnny flicks a few switches on the side of the camera, giving a thumbs up.

Rex: Name. Place of Birth. Rank.

Steve: Steven Llarec Barrett…….Wichita…Kansas…uh..Private First Class!

Rex: Woah, triple-barrelled name.

Steve: ….They call me Steve!

Rex: Indeed they do.

Steve: ……Steve Llarec!

Rex: So they don’t add Barrett to the end?

Steve: Nope!

Rex: Do they even know that’s your last name?

Steve: Nope!

Rex: Okay. That’s the pleasantries done—

Steve: My name’s Steve!

Rex: Gotcha.

Rex: You were hesitant to state your rank and hometown. Don’t you know, or are you suffering from mental damage?

Steve tilts his head.

Rex: Are you a bit nuts?

Steve: Oh, that!..No..no no….I like ice cream!

Rex: ….Ooooookay.

Steve: And….my brain gets fuzzy sometimes…..brain damage! Years ago..But I’m happy! Makes me all warm and fuzzy!

Rex: ..Brain damage? How did that happen?

Steve: Something hit me on the head.

Johnny: No shit.

Rex scowls at Johnny.

Steve: I….can’t remember…..odd…..I think…forest…trees. I like trees! Trees help us breathe! I like them!

Rex: Do you usually break away from the subject?

Steve: Yuppers!

Rex: …Oooooooooooooooooookay.

Steve: It’s…brain damage….really! I mean…..at Shadow Moses….I was……I think…normally! Yeah! Normally!

Rex: So you were at Shadow Moses?

Steve: Yuppers!

Rex: I seriously doubt that.

Steve: I was! We shot stuff, there was a big robot that went “Pchew pchew!” and everything!

Rex rubs his eyes, letting out a desperate sigh.

Rex: So, what’s your role in the company?

Steve: …………..Friend!

Rex: …Friend?

Steve: …I search for stuff! And I tell them about the stuff!

Rex: So, reconnaissance?

Steve: I also look for bad guys!

Rex: And surveillance?

Steve: ……….Yep!

Rex: I suppose that’s a good as place as any to put someone suffering from brain damage.

Steve: I’m good at it! They give me binoculars and everything!

Rex: And you whistle when you see an enemy?

Steve: Yep!

Rex remains silent, scratching his nose.

Rex: ….What else can we ask?

Tim: If he see’s pink elephants?

Rex: Alright, Steven Barrett, do you like working in the company?

Steve: Yep!

Rex: Why?

Steve: ..They’re nice! And, I mean, they’re just…uhh..misunderstood! We’re the same here!....Misunderstood!....Friends!

Rex: So why are you misunderstood? Something had to have happened before the brain damage, right? Do you remember?

Steve twiddles his thumbs, his eyes rolling up to the sky.

Steve: ….Uhh…..Uhh…..I think…..I know……Uhh…..

Johnny: Spell it out…take your time—

Rex: C’mon!!

Steve: …..I remember….lighting a flare……and then……my….uhhh….commander? Commander! My commanders jeep……went boom from a missile.

Rex: So you gave away your position while trying to signal incoming forces?

Steve: …Flare lit up early.

Rex: Flare malfunctioned and gave away your position?

Steve: ……I had some funny tablets in my drink.

Tim: Shit, you took LSD while in the armed forces?!

Steve: I had headaches!

Rex: So you took drugs?!

Steve: They had them in the medkit!

Rex: What kind of fucking army did you work for?!

Steve: ……Can’t remember.

Rex, Johnny and Tim groan in unison.

Steve: But they said the tablets and stuff were for tests!

Rex: Woah woah, hold on a second…you were fed this shit as a test? What kind of fucking test?!

Steve shrugs.

Steve: Psychicmabobs.

Rex: ….What?

Johnny: It happened. Experiments during the Cold War into trying to make soldiers gain psychic powers. Telepathy, ability to kill someone with their mind, telekinesis etc;

Steve: Yeah! Telemapathy!

Rex: Yeah, right, I bet that shits just for tinfoil hat wearers—

Steve: Them too!

Rex looks at Steve awkwardly.

Rex: …Right. Let’s move the subject on. Do you like it here?

Steve: It’s hot.

Rex: …Is that a yes?

Steve: Yep! I like it! It’s hot! Kinda sandy, but nice!

Rex: Ooooooookay.

Steve: The people are nice too! They wish peace upon some guy named Muhammad! I wish my name was Muhammad!

Rex: Muslims?

Steve: No, Muhammad.

Rex: …I meant the people who give you these wishings of peace are Muslims.

Steve: Muhammad!

Rex: …And you like them?

Steve: Yep! We go into Egypt and eat stuff! Then we buy stuff! Phil likes to argue with the shopkeepers about paying. Jericho just folds his arms and looks angry. And Ivan’s crazy!

Rex: Yes, we know.

Steve: Veryyyyyyyyy crazy.

Rex: Yes, we—

Steve: VERRRRRRRRRRRYYYYYYYYYY crazy!

Rex: We know. We know.

Steve sits there with an inane smile on his face as Rex, Tim and Johnny simply stand there, slightly unnerved by his calmness.

Rex: ……Anything else to say?

Steve: ….I like ice cream!

Rex [Hastily]: Alright, we’re done here.

Steve blinks.

Tim: You can go now.

Steve blinks again. Johnny switches off the camera.

Johnny: …Like..right now.

Steve jumps up to his feet, hurtling towards the alleyway connecting Beale Street and the square at inhuman speeds, leaving a small cloud of sand blowing up in his path. Rex stumbles back slightly, coughing loudly.

Rex: What the fuck?!

Steve’s Voice: ICE CREEEEAAAMMMMMM!!!

Johnny laughs loudly, shaking his head as Rex rubs his hands over his face, wiping away the grains of sand.

Rex: What the fuck? Ice Cream? Really?!

Johnny: Well, beer gets Franks attention, Mr. Dibbley gets Sals attention, and poon gets Will’s attention. I like him. He’s the last innocent soul!

Rex: Yeah, of course you’d say that after you learnt he took LSD.

Johnny: It was an experimental time in my life!

Tim edges past Johnny, dipping a hand into the pocket of his khaki cargo shorts and pulling out a clear pack filled with a shredded green substance.

Tim: Oh yeah? And what’s this?

Johnny: It’s for my…..Ah fuck it. GIMME THAT BACK!!

Tim lifts the bag up high as Johnny jumps up repeatedly, stretching for it. Steve walks into the Square, licking a strawberry popsicle. He looks over at Johnny and Tim, his eyes brightening.

Steve: Hey! Cornflake sprinkles! We used to have those in my army!

Tim looks over at Steve bewildered while Johnny snatches the bag, quickly stuffing it into his pocket. Steve shrugs, turning around and walking out of the Square while licking his popsicle calmly.

Rex: Y’know, it’s always the quiet ones..

*Dog and Handgun*

Inside the Dog and Handgun, neither Jon nor Brick have even bothered to alter the look of the place before the large night out. The mauve carpet remains soiled, the mothbitten chairs surrounding the circular stage remain dusty, and the stripper pole remains slightly rusted, while the lights swing from their chains, squeaking every so often. Jon is busy ruffling the ruby curtains that stand behind the stage, while Brick is polishing glass tumblers and tankards with a soapy rag.

Brick: This is it. The night when our business skyrockets, and as such, we need results!

Jon: Now, getting results is simple enough: We already have a loyal fanbase who mindlessly piss away money on booze and poon, but tonight? We need to expand!

Brick: Yes. Expand.

Jon: ..That’s what I said.

Brick: I know.

Jon looks over his shoulder edgily at Brick.

Jon: …..Riiight.

Brick: You should probably go get the girls.

Jon: Fuck ‘em. What can they do that they don’t already do?

Brick: Well, if they could dance without vomiting!

Jon [Bitterly]: I’m not the one who replaced Tiana’s energy pills with laxatives, was I?!

Brick [Snapping his fingers]: We need…..moonshine. Al’s moonshine! That’s it!

Jon: What? You think he still has some left over?

Brick: And I can mix it with some of my own moonshine!

Jon: We want to make them forget their troubles, not..y’know, kill them.

Brick [Waving it off]: Yeah yeah, catch you in a few!

Brick sets down the glass and rag, rubbing his hands together vigorously and hopping over the bar, bolting out of the double doors and out into the street. Jon finishes adjusting the curtains, nodding to himself before walking through a small wooden door with a golden handle beside it, slamming it shut behind him and walking forward a few steps, past a practically identical door to his left and towards a trapdoor embedded in the floor, stomping on it.

Jon: Breakfast time, ladies!

The trapdoor opens up, a flood of golden light coming from it. Jon looks down at the concrete staircase which is well lit and spirals down into the basement, covered in red velvet carpet. Jon opens his arms, grinning brightly as a young Indian woman with brown eyes and flowing black hair, wearing a purple silk nightgown, begins walking up the stairs.

Jon [Cheerily]: HELLO PRETTY LADIES!!!

Woman: Jon, our last bottle of champagne has gone.

Jon [Hastily]: Don’t worry, I’ll replace it! We’re getting plenty of money tonight!

Woman: Are we dancing again?

Jon: You bet’cha, babe.

Woman: Why are we still dancing in a shitheap?

Jon: Because most of our money is used to make you fed and clothed? Most of our money is used on you women, and solely you women?

The woman shrugs.

Woman: Touche.

The woman walks past Jon, who screws up his face angrily.

Jon [Venomously, Under his breath]: You lousy fucking prissy..

Woman: Did you say something?

Jon quickly reverts to his face neutral.

Jon: Yeah, I said ‘You lousy fucking prissy’, and then you interrupted me before I could finish the sentence.

The woman snorts loudly, opening the gold-handled door and walking into the bar, stepping over a dried puddle of urine.

Woman: Well, maybe if you had better funding management—

Jon: Fuck off. We don’t need funding management. We can’t afford it.

Woman: You do realise Diamond was an accountant, right?

Jon: Diamond?

Woman: She’s the only fucking American stripper! How can you not know her?

Jon [Calmly]: I don’t remember faces in a strip bar.

Woman [Snidely]: Charming. Well, maybe if you asked her rather than ogled her—

Jon: You talk way too much, you know that?

The doors to the Dog and Handgun open up as Brick shoves his back through it, violently pulling a large metal keg into the Dog and Handgun, leaving it near the doors and wiping his brow.

Brick: Woo-wee! That’s some heavy liftin’!

Jon: Brick….You were quick. Too quick.

Brick: Naw man, he gave this to me fer a discount!

Jon: …..Why?

Brick [Laughing]: Oh, something ‘bout tequila worms and shit, I don’t know. ANYWAY! Wanna crack ‘er open?!

Jon: I’ll pass.

Brick rubs his hands together giddily as the woman walks to the right of the bar, shoving open a white plastic door with a metal strip for a handle.

Woman: Where’s the eggs? I want some Eggs Benedict!

Jon [Under his breath]: Stupid bitch..

Woman: What??

Jon: Stupid bitch!

Woman [Darkly]: Charming..

Jon: We can’t keep paying for these fucking women while letting our bar collapse around our ears!!

Brick looks at the ceiling before looking at Jon, shrugging.

Brick: I know. But these women are our star attractions, and you’re the one who brings them in and promises them good stuff!

Jon: Dammit, we have to replace them with real dogs.

Brick: …..You sick freak.

Jon [Angrily]: I meant ugly women, you cunt!

Brick: Oh. But that won’t work! They come here for the women!

Jon: But if we can show them we can deal drinks with the best, then we won’t have to spend money on these women!

Brick [Giggling]: I know.

Jon: ……Okay?

Brick jogs to behind the bar, kneeling out of sight for a moment before standing up, pulling out a steel cocktail shaker and grinning inanely.

Brick: I’m gonna make us a cocktail bar-slash-strip club-slash-dive!

Jon simply stands there, slowly rubbing his eyes exasperatedly.

Jon [Sighing darkly]: …I’m going to work for Al one day. I swear, I am.

*Beale-Walker Square*

In Beale-Walker Square, Courtney is now sitting on the office chair. Rex is tapping his feet impatiently as Courtney licks her palm, straightening out her hair slightly and dusting off her desert camouflage pants and t-shirt, coughing slightly.

Courtney [Shivering]: Windy today!

Rex [Not listening]: Yeah.

Courtney: Usually means a sandstorms brewing.

Rex [Still not listening]; Yeah.

Courtney: You know. Sandstorm. Big wall of sand. Can make a man choke to death. Cough cough. You know.

Rex [STILL not listening]: Yeah.

Johnny: He’s usually like this, don’t worry.

Rex [Bitterly]: Fuck off.

Courtney: Charming man.

Tim adjusts the boom-mic slightly above Courtney’s head. Johnny flicks a few switches on the side of the camera, giving the thumbs up to Rex.

Rex: Name, Place of Birth, Rank.

Courtney: ..Courtney Inuko. Northampton, Massachusetts….Don’t have a rank.

Rex: ….What?

Courtney: Not a mercenary.

Rex: ….Oh.

Courtney: Problem?

Rex: No! So…uhh…why the hell are you here?

Courtney [Shrugging]: Fun. Guns. Violence. Blood. Any of the above.

Rex: ….I see.

Courtney: Yup.

Rex [Clearing his throat]: ………So what now?

Courtney [Bluntly]: You ask questions.

Rex: Right, so, uh…any past military experience?

Courtney: None.

Rex: Self-trained?

Courtney: Yup. Shooting at moving targets. You know..humans and stuff.

Rex: Right.

Courtney [Grinning slightly]: Did you know there’s a point in the human skull which, if you hit directly with the right calibre bullet, the head will EXPLODE?!

Rex: No, I did not know that.

Courtney: It’s fun. [Clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth] Pop.

Rex: You seem calm to the whole killing thing.

Courtney [Shrugging nonchalantly]: Done my fair share.

Rex: So you did have past military experience!

Courtney: I joined the academy three years ago when these guys were out on this very street. Is that military experience?

Rex: Well, the mercenaries are a section of United Nations-sanctioned armed forces, so…yes.

Courtney shrugs.

Courtney [Chuckling]: Guess I am, then. I don’t pay it much attention. I just like shooting things in the head. Or the crotch. Or even both!

Rex: So, what is your role here?

Courtney: Armorer, mostly. Every gun one of them steals goes through me. I fix it, polish it, spit in it, make sure every single part works, then hand it back. Some of the guns we scavenge for ourselves, keep in ReLoaded and sell to passing rebels. It keeps the town able to pay for extra food and water drops from either rebels or the Academy, at least.

Rex: ..Every gun goes through you to be fixed?

Courtney: EVERY gun. You go out into battle, you don’t want your gun jamming. I make sure that never happens. Then again, with the people I’m working with, I’m surprised I don’t see more of them picking their noses with barrels.

Rex: You feel you’re underrated?

Courtney [Chuckling]: Hey, I handle guns and get paid for it. Do I care? Not really. I get business. I get a house, and I take potshots at any PMC passing by. It’s fun! It’s more fun than chewing gum! See? Pararhyme!

Rex: …Okay.

Courtney [Shrugging]: Honestly, we're a hub here. Passing Western military units pay for drinks here. Middle Eastern rebels buy weaponry from me. We're sanctioned by the United Nations, but that doesn't mean they can just ship us guns on the fly. Ocelots got an army brewing, and every single step we take to ensure that he'll at least be stopped makes that army grow. Every visit to that alternate timeline changes this place. Soon, the PMCs will be given orders to wipe us out when Ocelot discovers the Patriots when they re-visit the alternate timeline once again. The moment that clicks in line....Either way, the money we earn here helps us buy better weaponry from passing Western units. Every M4, Every AN, Every single modern weapon, from the XM8 to the F2000 is what we look for. If we don't get them? We're fucked. Even I can't work miracles.

Rex [Laughing]: Now you're just rambling about the same stupid bullshit the others have.

Courtney [Narrowing her eyes]: Don't fuck with me..

Rex: And why's that, eh?

Courtney [Grinning brightly]: I’m also trained in close combat. Funny story. One time, on a training mission down in Bolivia, we ran into a unit of PMCs. Seven of them. Killed them all with a knife, a thumbtack and a piece of string!

Rex [Raising an eyebrow]: Where do the thumbtack and string come in?

Courtney: Wouldn’t YOU like to know!

Rex: Well..yeah.

Courtney narrows her eyes.

Courtney [Bitterly[: My stories are not for the ears of mere boys. They are for the ears of men and women!

Rex: …Oooooookay.

Courtney: I can kill a man with a knife and a gun. Sometimes my hands. My bare hands. I snap necks like you snap into a Slim Jim.

Rex: Really?

Courtney [Smiling sweetly]: Twist neck one way, twist the body the other. Easy!

Rex gulps slightly.

Rex: Uhh..okay, but you mainly maintain the weaponry?

Courtney: And acquire it. Ever smelt the barrel of an MP5 after it’s been fired? Smells beautiful. Sometimes I fire guns just to smell that wonderful smoky smell that comes out of the barrel.

Rex [Mumbling]: Talk about gun porn..

Courtney: I’m dedicated to my work.

Rex: We can tell.

Courtney: I also use explosives too.

Rex: I see—

Courtney [Grinning]: Claymore mines. I love them. Ever seen what happens when a man steps on one? It’s beautiful. The leg he steps on it with ends up a pile of mangled mincemeat, while the other one is rendered useless by shrapnel. Sometimes, the shrapnel hits his groin, effectively castrating him—

Rex [Hastily]: Alright! Interview is done!

Courtney hops to her feet, dusting her hands off and grinning.

Courtney: About damn time. Now, if you excuse me, I have killing machines to make and polish! Remember: The biggest guns require two hands to handle!

Courtney gives a small grin.

Tim: ……Well, yeah.

Courtney [Smile fading]: ….No-one gets the joke?

Johnny [Looking up]: …..Oh. OH.

Courtney [Grinning]: YEAH.

Rex: Sorry, what? Two hands? What?

Courtney: Biggest guns. Need two hands.

Tim: It’s obvious.

Rex: ….No, sorry.

Courtney [Angrily]: IT’S A PENIS JOKE!!

Rex blinks rapidly.

Rex: Ohhhh!!

Rex begins laughing loudly, and somewhat forcibly. Courtney rolls her eyes, grabbing Rex by the shoulders and kneeing him swiftly in the crotch with a sickening crunch. Rex’s eyes widen and he lets out a high-pitched squeal as Courtney steps back, allowing him to crumble to the floor as he clutches his groin, breathless and whimpering.

Courtney: Yep. That’s better.

Courtney turns around, giving a small salute to Johnny and Tim as she walks past them.

Courtney [Boisterously]: Keep up the good work, CHAPS!!

Courtney whistles and sticks her hands in her pockets as she strolls out of the alleyway. Johnny and Tim look down at Rex, who is too busy sobbing quietly.

Tim: Yeah, we better not actually mess with anyone who can make a mans testicles part of his stomach.

Rex lets out a guttural sob, flailing his feet wildly in agony.

*Frank, Mantis, Will, Raven, Bob, Octopus, Dave and Robbie’s Flat*

Dave is sitting on the worn leather couch in the middle of the main room, wearing nothing but a pair of y-fronts and eating cereal by the handful from a box of Lucky Charms, watching “Band of Brothers” while he eats. The door a few feet behind the couch opens and Will strolls out, wearing a dashing sapphire suit complete with sapphire-studded cufflinks, a black dress shirt and a horribly-garish sequinned sapphire tie. He grins, but his face falls when he see’s the back of Dave’s head, sniffing the air loudly.

Will [Scathingly]: Dave. You’re home. I thought I could smell shit.

Dave [Bitterly]: Fuck off.

Will: How long have you been there? Did the stench help you materialise?

Dave: Fuck right off.

Will [Sneering]: Charming. So, you’ll be going to the night out in your tighty-whities, then?

Dave: I said fuck off.

Will: Look, ugly, we’re having a night out, now I’m sure the entire world will not combust into flames if you put some damn pants on and get moving. We have to be out in four hours!

Dave makes a come hither motion over his shoulder with his index and middle fingers together. Will strolls over hesitantly, and Dave grasps his collar, wrenching his head down violently next to his.

Dave [With a quiet, controlled rage]: Will. I have spent days and days in a fucking tin can underwater. We have sailed everywhere from the Channel to the Korean Sea to the fucking Red Sea to the Suez. All I have had for female company are old copies of Penthouse, Playboy and Private. Now, combine that with the fact that all I’ve had to eat is rations, ready to eat rations, ready to eat rations filled with dirty, tasteless crap that makes me want to VOMIT!....and combine that with being stuck with a sociopathic madman inside said fucking tin can for what seems to be an eternity, surrounded by incompetent assholes and racist assholes, while you wear a uniform two sizes too tight which squeezes your dick and throat if you sneeze. Now, keep that in mind, AND LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE TO EAT CEREAL OUT OF THE GODDAMN FUCKING BOX WHILE I WATCH SOME FUCKING TELEVISION, YOU CUNT!!

Will yelps loudly, pulling back and wrenching himself free from Dave’s grip.

Will: Alright! Alright!

Dave blinks emotionlessly, digging his hand into the Lucky Charms box and pulling out a handful.

Dave: Tres bien.

Frank walks out of his and Mantis’s room, wearing a white shirt, black tie with yellow polka dots and a pair of black dress trousers, quickly fastening a pair of solid silver cufflinks in the shape of miniature AK-47s.

Frank: Hey, you alright? Heard yelling.

Dave [Angrily]: WE’RE FINE.

Frank: Dave, not getting dre—

Dave lets out an angry growl, akin to a rabid dogs, which cause Frank to cut his sentence short, turning to Will.

Will: He’ll join us later.

Frank: Right. Well, the thing isn’t happening for a few hours yet. Figure we’d head to the Lamb and Flag for a bit of warming up….By the way, how do I smell?

Will leans forward, sniffing the air near Frank, his nose wrinkling.

Will [Sneering]: ...Yeuch…Paco Rabbane?

Frank: I like it! It’s musky, yet—

Will [Chuckling]: Like hobo stank?

Frank: Shut up!

Will scratches his neck roughly. Frank sniffs the air, slapping Will’s chest roughly. Will laughs loudly, nodding and straightening his sapphire tie.

Will: Yup, Dolce and Gabbana to match the suit.

Frank: Shall we go? Dave ain’t moving.

Dave growls loudly.

Will: Lamb and Flag? Alright..what about the women?

Frank [Shrugging]: Fuck ‘em

Will [Laughing]: ALRIIIIIGHT!!

Will grabs the zipper of his pants, but Frank simply grabs his arms.

Frank: Will, I meant it in the context of leave them alone.

Will gives a small whine.

Will [Whining]: Where’s the fun in that?!

Frank: Look, let’s get to the Lamb and Flag, alright? Dave can join us later.

Will: Someone should stay here in case he takes root!

Dave throws down the box of Lucky Charms, twisting around and hopping over the back of the sofa before planting a perfectly-executed right hook into Will’s right temple, sending him instantly onto the ground, splayed out and unconscious. Frank steps backwards, holding up his hands.

Frank: Woah! Dave! Calm!

Dave grimaces, clutching his clenched fist and shaking it in pain.

Dave [In pain]: FUCK HE HAS A HARD SKULL!! FUCK!

Frank [Shakily]: Dave, calm! Come with us and get a drink! Just calm! Calm!

Dave pulls his fist back, advancing on Frank.

Dave [Venomously]: TELL ME TO CALM AGAIN AND I’LL PULL YOUR LUNGS OUTTA YOUR ASS!!

Frank stumbles backwards against the wall beside the door, holding up his hands and clenching his eyes shut tightly, waiting for Dave to punch him. Dave simply lets his arm drop by his side, walking over to the couch and sitting down on it, grabbing the box of Lucky Charms and shaking them slightly.

Dave [Nonchalantly]: Fucking cereal. Wish it was just marshmallows. Why don’t they make Lucky Charms which is just marshmallow? That’d be awesome.

Dave reaches a hand into the box, pulling out a handful of cereal and dropping it into his mouth. Frank looks over at Dave, dropping his arms.

Frank [Sighing]: Fuck it, I need a drink.

Dave: That’s your solution for everything, pussy!

Frank flips the bird at him, and Dave turns around, glaring at him. Frank quickly hides his hands behind his back, giving an innocent whistle before walking over to the door and hastily opening it, sliding out and slamming it shut. Dave gives a small smile.

Dave: Finally…..peace.

Dave sets the box down on the glass coffee table in front of him, propping his feet up and giving a happy sigh, watching television and wrapping his arms around the back of his head.

Raven’s Voice [Angrily]: MANTIS! WHERE DID YOU PUT MY FUCKING GRENADE LAUNCHER?!?!?

Mantis’s Voice [Angrily]: HOW THE FUCK WOULD I KNOW?! IT’S YOUR FAULT FOR LOADING IT WITH FLASHBANGS AND FIRING THEM AT THE BIRDS ANYWAY!!!

Raven’s Voice [Enraged]: I STILL HEAR THEM, DAMMIT!! WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO, LIVE WITH IT?!??!

Dave’s face immediately falls.

Mantis’s Voice [Screeching]: DO WHAT I DO WITH THE SCREAMING: THINK HAPPY THOUGHTS!!

Raven’s Voice [Enraged]: OH, LIKE UNICORNS?!?!?

Mantis’s Voice [Screaming]: THAT’S IT! I’M GOING TO BREAK YOUR NECK, YOU SCRAWNY BITCH!!!

Dave lashes his feet out, getting off the couch angrily.

Dave: Fuck this! Fuck the world! Fuck the fact I have to put fucking pants on!

Raven’s Voice [Screeching violently]: BRING IT, BITCH!!!

Dave [Angrily]: JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!!

The house falls silent. Deadly silent.

Dave [Gulping]: Uh-oh.

Dave quickly runs towards the door, quickly leaving the house as fast as he can.

*Sal, Billy and Vince’s Mansion*

Inside Sal, Billy and Vince’s Mansion, built on a dune of sand several miles to the south-east of Walker Street and stood tall on a foundation of concrete in the scorching sunlight, Billy is inside his room, buckling the side of a red, yellow and black tartan kilt. Billy’s room is notably one of the smaller rooms inside the mansion, and consists of little more than a mattress thrown onto the floor with a duvet covering it, to the left of which stands an ornate wardrobe carved out of ash wood. Above a large wooden lattice, inside which sits several bottles of single malt whiskey, hangs both the Scottish Saltire and Scottish Royal Seal. Billy looks up, placing his hand over the heart of his Prince Charlie jacket with silver studs, tears welling in his eyes.

Billy [Shakily]: Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Flooooooooooooower of Scoooooooooootlaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaandddddddd..Wheeeeen wiiiilllll weeeeeee seeeeeee yeeeerrrrr liiiiiiiike agaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiinnn?..

The cast-iron windowless door to Billy’s room is shoved open as Sal, wearing a white silk shirt with ruffles and laces around the neck and collar, enters the room, buckling a snakeskin belt over his black dress trousers. He looks up at Billy, who looks over at him.

Sal: Billy. The kilt. WHY?!

Billy: Easy access.

Sal [Sighing in disgust]: …..Please tell me you’ve put some damn underpants on.

Billy lets out a shrill laugh before glaring at Sal.

Billy [Laughing]: If I wore underwear with it, it would be a skirt an’ not a kilt!

Sal: You know, I hope Brick and Jon leave the air conditioning off. That thing blows up and Tavi’ll be dealing with several blind mercenaries!

Billy: Here’s a tip: Stop looking at ma crotch!

Sal [Retching slightly]: And for fucks sake, open a window in here, will you? All I can smell is Old Spice and malt liquor!

Sal walks into the middle of the room, walking over Billy’s lone mattress and grasping a metre-tall window to the left of it, grabbing both bronze locks and shoving it open.

BillY [Angrily]: Hey! I spent months trying ta get that smell in ‘ere!

Sal: And you wonder why women have sex with you on the floors of bars as opposed to in here?!

Billy growls loudly, turning to the window and stomping over to it, grasping the right-hand bronze lock and glaring at Sal, who glares back at him.

Sal: Billy, behave. I don’t want to spend another goddamn night picking my teeth off of the floor. Now, the boss is going to be there—

Billy [Angrily]: What the FUCK does opening a window have to do with me behaving?!

Sal: It was a—It was a general comment.

Billy [Scathingly]: Ah, fuck off yeh li’l pussy! We’re not going for “Tea and Scones, chap!” We’re going fer a feckin’ drink!

Sal [Bluntly]: I’m your superior, Billy.

Billy: And I’m ten times more violent then yeh, Sally-boy! So watch out who yer tryin’ ta push around..

Sal: Just behave, will you? I want to make a good impression on Lynch—

Billy: Then get it done with!

Sal: ..Eh?

Billy [Spitting]: Get on yer knees and suck his cock already! Yer asskissing is feckin’ ridiculous!

Sal clenches his right fist, but is interrupted as Vince bounds into the room, buttoning up a black silk shirt screenprinted with an image of a white dragon. He quickly buttons up the chest, scratching his beard roughly and looking around blankly.

Vince: Hey guys, what’s up?

Billy [Scathingly]: Nothin’, jus’ ‘bout ta gut Sal.

Sal [Coldly]: About to punch Billy in-between his fucking eyes.

Vince: Hey, come on, guys! Let’s be friends! We’re going out, having a drink—

Sal [Snorting]: And wearing silk shirts that we used to wear before our balls dropped.

Vince: Fuck you, Sal! Every man owns a silk screen shirt! EVERY FUCKING MAN!

Sal turns his head, looking at Vince and snorting condescendingly.

Sal: Yeah, maybe the poor—

Billy shoves the window open, reaching forward and grabbing Sal by his collar before shoving him out of the window. Sal’s screams echo throughout the desert, and Billy watches as Sal slams into the sand dune with a soft thud before rolling down it. He slams the window shut, turning to Vince and dusting off his hands.

Billy [Calmly]: So.

Vince [Raising an eyebrow]: ….So?

Billy: Quick drink before we go and see tha titties?

Billy walks over to the wooden lattice, pulling out a half-full bottle of Highland Park 12 Year Old, turning to Vince and taking off the top.

Vince: Yeah, sure.

Sal’s Voice [Enraged]: YOU ASSHOLE! MY SHIRTS GOT SAND ON IT NOW! THE FUCKING RUFFLES, MAN! YOU CREASED THE RUFFLES!

Billy: I say we get really drunk, beat Sal up and leave him for dead.

Vince [Chuckling]: I agree.

Billy takes a swig from the bottle, handing it to Vince who takes it and takes a small drink, handing the bottle back to Billy who wipes his grizzled mouth with the back of his hand, motioning at Vince’s torso.

Billy: Like tha shirt.

Vince looks down at his shirt.

Vince: Thanks!

Billy: Had one like it once. Had Goku on it.

Vince: Nice.

Billy [Shrugging]: Aye, staple of my wardrobe..Until I, y’know, got transferred here.

Vince: Didn’t bring it with you?

Billy: Nah, suitcase was full with Scottish stuff and all tha’.

Vince: I see.

The door is flung open once more and Sal marches into the room, chest puffed out as he storms over to Billy, jabbing a finger into his chest.

Sal [Angrily]: YOU CUNT! YOU SKIRT-WEARING, WHISKEY-DRINKING DUMB CUNT!

Billy takes a quick drink of Highland Park, replacing the top and turning around calmly, slipping it back into the wooden lattice before standing up straight and cracking his knuckles.

Billy: Sorry Vince.

Vince: Why?

Billy turns around quickly, grabbing Sal’s cheeks and forcibly turning him around before grabbing the back of his hand, shoving him forward roughly and slamming his head against Vince’s, sending both men to the ground. Billy takes a deep breath in, letting out a happy sigh before grasping the windows catches and shoving it open, leaning down, grabbing Sal and hoisting him up by the ruffles on the neck of his shirt before throwing him backwards and out of the window.

Sal [Enraged]: CUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNT!!!!!!!!!

Sal hits the sand-dune with a soft thud, followed by a loud crack.

Sal’s Voice [In agony]: …I need a new rib..

Billy: And tha’ sound means we can go. Get up, Vince.

Vince groans loudly, sitting up and rubbing his forehead.

Vince [Coldly]: Asshole.

Billy [Bluntly[: Pussy.

Billy claps his hands, strolling calmly out of his door.

*Lamb and Flag*

In the Lamb and Flag, Dick is standing behind the bar, clad in his usual working attire of a white shirt, black apron and dress trousers. In front of the bar, however, are Moe and Maurice. Maurice is busy buttoning up a Hawaiian shirt roughly the size of a tarpaulin, while Moe slips on a pair of small black brogues, tying his bow tie tighter around the neck of his white shirt.

Dick: I can’t believe it.

Maurice: Wha’?

Dick [Angrily]: Fraternising with the enemy. YOU’RE FRATERNISING WITH THE ENEMY!

Maurice clears his throat, looking over at Dick and pulling up the zip of his jeans.

Maurice: We’re all invited. ALL invited.

Dick [Angrily]: So, we’re fraternising with the enemy?!

Maurice: Yes.

Dick [Shrugging]: Alright, lock up, Moe.

Dick throws off his apron, reaching into the pocket of his black chinos and pulling out a breath spray, spraying it into his mouth.

Moe: Dick, we’re not going on a speed-dating service. We’re going on the piss!!

Dick: Who cares? I don’t want my breath smelling of peanuts when my tongue’s going down a strippers throat!

Moe retches slightly as Dick gives a small laugh, shrugging his shoulders.

Dick: Bite me, assholes! It’s time for me to have a night out for once!

Maurice: Let’s just go ladies. Let’s go and get some fucking drinks!

Moe: And pretzels. There better be pretzels!

Dick: …….Well, this is goodbye..

Dick keeps his hands clawed on the bar, scratching at the bartop. Moe looks up at him.

Moe [Impatiently[: Dick, what are you doing?

Dick [Crying]: I CANNAE LEAVE MY BABY!!

Maurice sighs, leaning over the bar and grabbing both of Dick’s shoulders, clamping on them tightly and lifting him directly up and over the bar before setting him down on the floor.

Maurice [Bluntly]: Move. We’re going on the lash.

Dick [Desperately]: B-But I’ve got the shakes, man! THE SHAKES!

Dick holds out his arms, his hands shaking very little. Maurice folds his arms, looking distinctly unimpressed.

Maurice: Move now.

Dick: But if I-I leave..I m-might displease h-her..

Moe [Bluntly]: Displease WHO?

Dick turns his head, looking at the bar. Behind it appears a woman with pale grey skin, leathery black wings and long white hair covering her ample frame. She purses her luscious red lips, blowing Dick a kiss before opening her mouth to reveal a set of razor-sharp teeth.

Woman: DON’T BE GONE LONG!

Dick lets out a primal, panicked scream, twisting around and hurtling towards the double doors, diving straight out of them. Both Maurice and Moe turn their heads, looking behind the bar: There’s no-one there. Maurice looks down at Moe, shaking his head.

Maurice: Ow, we gotta drug him. He’s fahckin nuts, man.

Moe reaches into his pocket before pulling out a small case of pills, rattling them.

Maurice [Cocking an eyebrow]: …Where tha fuck didja get them?!

Moe: Somewhere.

Moe looks around shiftily, looking over his shoulder.

Moe [Whispering]: Johnny.

Maurice nods, walking past him and patting his shoulder.

Maurice: Let’s roll, little lad. There’s drinking competitions ta be won, like!

*Beale-Walker Square*

Despite the first male mercenaries beginning to slowly make their way towards the Dog and Handgun, the hub for the designated night of relaxation, Jon is sitting on the office chair in Beale-Walker Square, hastily adjusting the black tie that accompanies his white shirt and dress trousers. Johnny is busy setting up the camera as Rex folds his arms, tapping his elbow.

Jon: COME ON! I don’t have all fucking night!

Johnny: Hey, neither do we!

The sound of jogging footsteps fills the square. Rex turns his head, watching as Brick jogs towards them, wearing a tuxedo jacket with the sleeves torn off which accompanies a pair of solid black three-quarter-length shorts and a pair of hi-top Nike sneakers.

Rex: Fuck me, it’s the bumpkin.

Brick: Fuck you, I’m country to the core! I spit tobacco and shit hogs!

Jon [Smirking]: He doesn’t lie, you should try unclogging the toilet when he’s been.

Rex: What the fuck are you doing here?

Brick [Quickly]: Getting this shit done with! C’mon, C’mon!

Johnny flicks a quick thumbs up as Brick trips up in front of the camera, landing at Jon’s feet. Jon rubs his eyes, growling in frustration as Brick grabs Jon’s legs, pulling himself up and quickly standing to Jon’s right, giving a small grin and motioning at his forehead as if tipping his cap. Brick strokes the air around his head, quickly snapping his fingers in realisation and reaching into the back of his shorts, fluffing out a solid black truckers cap and placing it on his head.

Jon [Scathingly]: Are you fucking done?

Brick: Chill out, Jon-boy!

Jon [Mumbling]: Fucking redneck..

Brick: Hey, that there’s a compliment!

Jon: Whatever. Are you guys ready yet?

Rex: Alright. Both of you: Names, Places of Birth, Positions.

Brick: Brick Schmicker, Houston, Texas, Senior Airman, boy!

Jon: Jon Manguel. Colorado Springs, Colorado. Private.

Rex: Brick first. So, Brick, Senior Airman? Pilot?

Brick [Laughing]: HOO-WEE! Yessir!

Rex: I don’t see any aircraft around here.

Brick: Yeah, I know.

Brick keeps smiling as Rex looks at him.

Rex: ….Uhhh…so why is that?

Brick shrugs nonchalantly.

Brick: Dunno. Budget cuts?

Rex: ….You’re a Senior Airman. You should be the pilot.

Brick [Grinning]: Well, yeah!

A small silence fills the air. Jon clears his throat, trying his best not to jump to his feet and punch Brick right there and then.

Rex: ….How can you be a pilot with no aircraft?

Brick [Twiddling his thumbs]: Oh..my role comes later, y’know. When we’re on..like, missions and stuff, I fly planes and shit.

Rex: ‘Planes and shit’. Lovely expression. So, a southern boy who learnt to fly?

Brick: Yep!

Rex: Dare I ask how?

Brick [Chuckling]: Well, there was this one time, when a news chopper was left right there on a field while some reporters were doing some stuff. Interviews for charity, so me and Zemus done took that thing for a spin! WOWEE! IT WAS SWEET!

Rex: …You knew how to fly, just like that?

Brick [Shrugging]: Naw, I nosedived that thing into the ground before we got too high. Me and Zemus spent a few nights in hospital….They never did find his left arm…

Brick snaps his fingers.

Rex: So—

Brick: From that day on, I wanted to fly! To touch the skies! So I signed me up to the Air Force, got transferred over to the Twelfth Air Force! They done put me in Three-Fifty-Fifth Fighter Wing, where I got to fly an A-Ten Thunderbolt!

Rex: ..What was it like?

Brick [Grinning]: Aw man, I fought me in the First Gulf War and Second Gulf War! I was one of the fighter pilots who done got to fly over Libya, too!

Rex: Wow, Libyan Revolution guy.

Brick: Yeah, and then I done got to fly over Australia too, where they had their revolution!

Rex: Australian Revolution? The one a few years ago?

Brick: Oh yeah, that was some crazy shit! I remember flying over Queensland and shooting me some Aussies who were trying to shoot flares at us!..I’ll never forget that hissing sound..

Rex: Australian Revolution…That’s interesting. I heard that when the Australian civilians tried to raid a military base in Townsville, a unit of Thunderbolts actually flew into it and blew themselves up………Brick?

Brick [Laughing]: Naw, that wasn’t me, that was Zemus! He done took a nosedive cause he thought he saw Russell Crowe on the ground! He hated Gladiator, y’see, so he dived down and flew into those Australians !Took his whole unit with him! Was purty explosions, though.

Rex: So how did you get sent here?

Brick: Oh, that was after Australia. Just five months before they were gonna go for a training mission, the fellow mercenaries, I went on an impromptu mission to assassinate the rogue leader Nick Clegg!

Rex: British Revolution?

Brick: Yep!

Rex: By impromptu, you mean—

Brick: Yup, I just flew up and took off! Warned with a court martial, but I thought “It’s been ages since I’ve had me some fish and fries!” so I flew off over to England and divebombed Ten Downing Street for Zemus!

Rex: …..You nosedived into it, you mean?

Brick : Divebombing sounds purtier. Didn’t help the revolution none, but it killed What’s-his-name Cameron.

Rex: David Cameron? The guy who the Liberal Democrat Army took hostage?

Brick: That’s the one! Sadly though, revolution never done worked out. Either way, they patched me up, shipped me home, and then shipped me with the mercs as punishment. Pretty turd if ya ask me. Only fly transport planes now.

Rex: Pretty sad story.

Brick shrugs. Jon clears his throat.

Jon: Alright, let’s go—

Rex: Jon, tell us about yourself.

Jon [Mumbling]: I’m a Libra, I hate you, I like the rest of these assholes, and I’m the impatient one. Goodbye.

Jon goes to stand up, but Brick clasps his shoulder tightly, keeping him pinned in the seat.

Brick: C’mon, Jon-boy! Give an interview! How did’ja end up here, anyway?

Jon [Bluntly]: I killed a guy.

Rex: ….Wow, calm much?

Jon: What? I never said I’m proud of it. Oh yeah, it was three guys, and it was during a nasty fight.

Rex: ….Okay, where were you stationed?

Jon: Mountain Warfare Training Station. California.

Rex [In disbelief]: No shit?! You were a fucking Marine?!

Jon: Never got further than Private, but yeah. I was.

Rex: So, what’s your role here??

Jon: Scout.

Rex [Chuckling]: …Scout?

Jon [Calmly]: The things I learnt up in those cold fucking mountains can come in use. Mountain Survival, Mountain Communications, Rough Terrain Driver..But no, I’m a fucking scout. Because I climbed mountains and shit, they pack me up with binoculars and communication equipment and send me ahead.

Rex: ….So you killed three guys?

Jon [Coldly]: Hand-to-hand combat. Broke the necks of two and shoved the nose of a third into his brain.

Rex winces.

Brick: Yeah, but can you tell why kids love the taste of Cinnamon Toast Crunch?

Jon [Bluntly]: Because it’s coated in sugar. Kids love sugar.

Brick’s jaw drops.

Brick [Amazed]: This dude is amazing!!!

Rex: So, why did you kill them?

Jon [Muttering quietly]: I was up in the mountains………scouting. Teaching myself to scout. I ducked into a cave up in the Sierra Nevada mountains. It was snowing. I ducked in to get some heat. Three trainees were there, smoking dope and shit. They attacked me. I fought back and killed them. End of.

Rex: That bad, huh?

Jon [Sighing]: I almost got my fucking guts carved out with a smashed bong pipe. Yeah, that bad. I told them I was going to report it back to headquarters. So they attacked me, and I killed them. Their weed-addled brains made them forget Marine combat. I taught them it. Last thing they were ever taught. I ended up carrying their bodies down the mountain, one stacked on another. Another Marine found me, I got dragged back, court-martialled……..ended up shipped here…..to be a…..scout.

Rex: ….Wow, that’s sad. In self-defence, too?

Jon [Bluntly]: Yeah. Bye.

Jon pushes himself up, walking out of the camera’s view and towards the alleyway linking the square and Beale Street.

Johnny: What’s his problem?

Brick: He killed three guys with his hands and got shipped here just for defending himself?

Johnny: So?

Rex: Alright, this interviews over. Shoo. Go on.

Brick scratches his rear.

Brick [Grunting]: Damn, these pants are going up me buttcrack.

Brick waddles away, repeatedly raking at his rear as Tim glances, giving a small shudder.

Tim [Coughing slightly]: That’s nasty.

Johnny: Almost enough to put you off men, eh?

Tim: I dunno. I know some bears who’d be glad to have him.

Rex [Cocking an eyebrow]: What the fuck are you two on about? Bears?

Johnny: You mean you still don’t know?

Rex remains silent, slowly shaking his head. Johnny rolls his eyes.

Johnny: Fuck it. Let’s just pack up and head down to the bar.

*Phil, Jericho, Ivan and Steve’s Flat*

In Phil, Jericho, Ivan and Steve’s Flat, the final preperations are beginning to leave for the Dog and Handgun. Jericho is stood in the tiny living room near the door, dusting off his camelskin trenchcoat and leather gloves, adjusting the red silk tie over his dress shirt. Phil walks out of his room, coughing loudly and wearing a white construction hat modified to hold two cans of beer with straws coming out of them, which accompanies a white shirt, purposefully-undone black tie and a pair of black dress pants. Ivan steps out of his and Steve’s room, wearing a double-breasted woollen officers coat over a pair of desert camouflage fatigues tucked into black army boots. Jericho claps his hands together roughly.

Jericho: Alright, are we ready?

Ivan: Da.

Phil: As am I.

Jericho: Phil, what the fuck is that?

Phil looks up at his drinking hat.

Phil [Calmly]: ….A form of sustained alcoholic sustenance.

Jericho grabs the hat roughly, ripping it from Phil’s head and throwing it to the floor.

Jericho [Scathingly]: We’re going to a fucking pub, we don’t need that…..And why haven’t you shaved?!

Phil: Because I’m a real fucking man, and not one of those skinny-ass hairless fake-tan-donning, preppy-fashion-waistcoat-and-shirt-and-tie wearing pussies. This beard reminds people that I hold guns and knives in my hands, and not cocks.

Ivan strokes his bristly chin instinctively.

Ivan: ……We’re all manly men here.

Jericho: You can be a manly man and still shave.

Phil [Angrily]: LIES! LIES AND SLANDER! Have you been brainwashed by the Prepluminati?!

Jericho [Scathingly]: Are you calling me a prep? ARE YOU CHALLENGING ME?!

Phil: YES I AM!!!

Jericho slaps Phils cheek roughly. Phil reels backwards as Ivan stands there, looking neutral. Jericho rubs his gloved hand.

Jericho: I’m sorry about that, but if you say it again, I will slap you.

Phil [Gasping slightly]: Jerry…..

Jericho: Yeah?

Phil [Angrily]: SUCK ON THIS!

Phil lunges forward, tackling Jericho by the waist and slamming him violently to the ground. Emilie’s Diary spills out of the inside pocket of his trenchcoat and slides across the dirty carpet as Phil kneels over Jericho, slamming a punch downwards. Jericho shifts his head to the right, so Phil slams his fist into the carpet. Phil yells out in agony before Jericho lunges up, placing two fingers into his mouth and pressing down into the sensitive area under his tongue. Phil lets out a garbled scream, instinctively getting to his feet as Jericho gets out. Phil glares at Jericho, swinging a knee up and kneeing him directly in the testicles with a swift crunch. Jericho’s eyes widen and he stumbles backwards, falling to his knees and letting out a winded wheeze/

Phil: Oh shit, sorry man! Sorry!

Jericho [Wheezing violently]: FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF—

Phil [Chuckling]: Man, we might need to get some ice.

Steve bounds out of his and Ivan’s room, wearing a white silk shirt, red bowtie, matching cummerbund and, oddly enough, a pair of black jeans and accompanying sneakers. He looks at Jericho, then at the diary nestled in the corner of the room in front of a terracotta pot with a dead plant consisting of nothing more than dry branches. Steve strolls over, leaning down and grabbing the diary. Jericho looks over.

Jericho [High-pitched]: Don’t read it, Steve! It’s the last thing we need!

Steve doesn’t open the book, but the room suddenly turns ice cold. Ivan lets out a breath of visible mist.

Phil [Mumbling]: You know, they say ghosts only haunt places of great sadness, pain or negative emotion to them. D’you think Emilie was murdered here? Emilie and…y’know. The rat…thing.

Ivan: Do you guys smell zat?

Ivan sniffs the air.

Steve [Bluntly]: Smoke.

Phil, Ivan and Steve look over at their stove. One of the gas rings is emitting orange flames roughly two feet high.

Phil: Who left the oven on?...Who used it?

Ivan [Angrily]: Phil, you cunt! It does vork!!

Phil [Shrugging]: Shut up, are you telling me takeaways aren’t giving you valuable nutrients?!

The flames let out a vicious flicker as Ivan rushes over, twisting the gas knob and turning off the flames. Ivan lets out a small sigh, turning around and suddenly standing still, paralyzed by fear. Phil dusts off his jacket, looking up at Ivan.

Phil: What? Is my fly undone?

Jericho: She’s behind me..isn’t she?

Phil takes a step to the right, looking at Jericho who now has a deep cut on his right cheek which is bleeding slightly.

Steve [Gasping]: Jerry!

Jericho runs his hand against the cut.

Jericho [Shaken]: …..What the fuck?

Phil [Eyes widening]: Jerry…WHAT DID YOU DO?!

Jericho looks around hesitantly, reaching into his inside pocket and pulling out a dusty old skull: Emilie’s supposed skull.

Steve [Panicked]: WOAH!

Ivan [Stepping backwards]: VAT ZE VUCK?!?!?!

Jericho: I want to know what happened to her, dammit!!

Phil storms over, wrenching the skull from Jericho’s grasp and clutching it like an American Football, pulling his arm back.

Phil [Angrily]: SAY GOODNIGHT, EMILIE!!

Jericho: PHIL, DON’T!!

Ivan [In terrified disbelief]: PHIL, ARE YOU VUCKING CRAZY?!?!

Phil [Shrugging]: Well, yeah..but not that crazy.

Phil’s arm drops by his side and he strolls over to the cardboard box which acts as a coffee table in front of their mothballed, torn leather couch, setting it down. Jericho’s wound stops bleeding.

Steve [Calmly]: Need drink.

Steve turns around, strolling past Jericho and kicking the door open roughly before jogging down the steps.

Ivan [Rolling his eyes]: Vell, you heard him.

Phil and Ivan stroll past Jericho who is simply standing there, rubbing the scratch on his cheek. He takes a step towards the skull, but stops himself.

Jericho [Hysterically]: What?! I only want to know what happened!! Is that illegal?!?!

Jericho suddenly stands frozen, his eyes rolling in his sockets before snapping to.

Jericho: Well…yeah, there is that, but disturbing your grave was the only way! I mean, it wasn’t even a grave!

Phil strolls back into the house, grabbing the back of Jericho’s trenchcoat collar, dragging him out of the house and slamming the door shut behind them.

*Dean and Karabs Kebaborama*

In the only bedroom of Dean and Karab’s Kebaborama, Dean is busy buttoning up a black silk dress shirt, whistling happily to himself. Karab is sitting on the edge of his bed, clutching the barrel of a Mossberg Shotgun and tapping the polymer butt against the torn carpet while Samuel strolls through the bedroom door, his hair slick with gel as he pats it down.

Samuel: Ready?

Dean stands up straight, puffing his chest out and rubbing down his shirt.

Dean [Happily]: Yup!

Samuel: Good.

Karab: I don’t see why you’re dragging me along for this. I need to keep my body pure, and resist sexual urges.

Dean: …..But we’re not dragging you along.

Karab [Bitterly]: Oh, I thought you were since, y’know, I’M A FUCKING FRIEND?!

Dean: Yeah, but….you’re…y’know, religious.

Karab [Angrily]: And? I’ll be lonely here! And now that I know what happens to lonely people here, I DON’T WANNA BE ALONE HERE!!

Samuel: Karab, there’s nothing here—

Karab: STOP LYING! I’VE SEEN THAT SHIT WITH MY OWN TWO EYES!

Dean: Look…Karab…[Dean slaps a hand on Karab’s shoulder.]…….Karab…………….goodbye.

Dean lets go of Karabs shoulder, turning around and walking over to the door. Samuel looks back at Karab, then gives a small sigh, turning and walking to the door. Both brothers stop when they suddenly hear the sound of a guns hammer cocking.

Dean [Not turning around]: …Karab, look…We’re not taking you, alright?!

Karab [Shakily]: I know, man! I KNOW!

Dean and Samuel turn around, noticing that Karab has climbed into his bed and is clutching his Mossberg shotgun tightly, his eyes darting around the interior of the room.

Dean [Hesitantly]: Jesus, should we leave him? I don’t want to come back to a barricaded room filled with piss and tears.

Samuel [Somewhat calmly]: We need someone to guard this place. Who knows what sort of vile, evil things might inhabit this room when we’re gone?

Dean [Stopping slightly]:…..What kind of evil, vile things?

Samuel: Shadow men.

Dean [Nodding]: That’s bad.

Samuel: Yeah, very bad.

Dean: I agree.

Samuel: Maybe even a poltergeist.

Dean [Gravely]: ….Yeah…..Karab’s gonna have to stay…

Samuel: Definitely, I mean, what if a succubus takes up residence?

Dean suddenly turns around.

Dean: Wha?

Samuel: A succubus.

Dean: Eh?

Samuel [Impatiently]: A succubus.

Dean snaps his fingers, causing Karab’s head to suddenly snap up.

Karab [Hastily]: Yes’m?

Dean: Grab your shit, you’re coming with us.

Karab hops out of bed, leaning down and pulling a pair of grey socks from the floor, hopping around as he pulls them on. Samuel narrows his eyes, turning his head to Dean.

Samuel [Angrily]: What the fuck is wrong with you?!

Dean [Grinning]:Succubus! Tits! Demon tits! Huge, big ol’ soul-fed demon tits!

Samuel purses his mouth, his face wrinkling angrily.

Samuel [In a sudden fit of rage]: YOU FUCKING RETARD!! DO YOU ONLY THINK WITH YOUR DICK?!

Dean rolls his eyes to the sky, deep in thought.

Dean: Yup.

Samuel [Bluntly]: I hate you.

*Port Said*

Back in Port Said, the giant warehouse used to house Robbie’s devastated U-boat has ceased work. Two vans, one a bright crimson red and the other as black as night, are parked feet away from a small side doorway in the side of the warehouse. Robbie is stood in the doorway, arms latched onto the sides as he stands firm.

Robbie [Angrily]: NO! YOU WILL NOT MOVE! I PAID YOU GOOD MONEY TO REPAIR MY BABY!

Robbie is pushed backwards violently as Johan pushes him aside, busy buttoning up a red shirt as he walks around to the side of the black van, several of the other mechanics gathering around the red van.

Johan [Calmly]: Sorry, but we’re going on a night out.

Stoofer walks through the doorway, dusting off a red paisley shirt and jeans and rubbing his oily fingers on the wall beside him.

Stoofer: About damn time.

Robbie: A night out.

Johan: Yes.

Robbie: And it’s interfering with my U-boat repairs?

That Hispanic Guy’s Voice: No, what’s interfering with your U-Boat repairs is that it’s a fuckin’ U-Boat, compadre! We can’t exactly find spare parts easily! We’re having to construct spare parts with scrap!

Robbie [Bitterly]: I’m paying you good money. VERY good money.

Johan: What’s the bet this gold is cursed?

Stoofer: Great. Cursed gold. Now we’ll have undead Nazi’s to battle.

Robbie [Impatiently]: It’s not cursed!!

That Random Guy walks out of the doorway, buttoning up the collar of a black Nehru jacket.

That Random Guy [Calmly]: Bet it is.

Robbie: Is not.

That Random Guy: Is.

Robbie [Snarling]: Shut up or I’ll fucking gut you.

That Random Guy [Chuckling]: Is.

Mustafa strolls through the doorway and calmly walks past Robbie and the other’s towards the van, wearing what appears to be a custom made black silk suit.

Mustafa: I don’t know ‘bout you guys, but I’m off.

That Hispanic Guy’s Voice: Hold on, we’re coming.

Robbie [Angrily]: You cunts! You’re just leaving me here?!

That Other Random Guy now hops out of the doorway, busy pulling on a black leather shoe and tucking his black dress pants into it.

That Other Random Guy: Or you could come if you want? Your choice.

Robbie [Boisterously]: NEIN!

Stoofer: Just leave him and let’s get moving!

Robbie blinks, watching as Stoofer climbs into the passengers seat, lacing up his boots.

Robbie [Enraged]: INSURREXTION IS PUNISHABLE BY DEATH!!

Johan flicks Robbie’s on the back of his forehead, walking past him and climbing into the passenger seat of the van as Stoofer shuffles over. That Random Guy and That Other Random Guy look over at Robbie.

That Random Guy: Why don’t you come?

Robbie [Glaring at them]: Fun is evil.

That Other Random Guy: No, it’s not. Just let the hair down. Take the gloves off.

Robbie [Venomously]: I will gut you. Get back and finish the U-Boat.

The red van roars into life, driving off to the right and by the side of the Suez Canal, heading away from the warehouse. Robbie turns around, running after the van and waving his arms.

That Random Guy: You know, why is it that the one guy who is actually doing his job as a mercenary is absolutely insane?

That Other Random Guy: That’s how it goes, friend.

That Random Guy [Whistling shrilly]: Yeah, right. OI! BOBBY! YOU COMING?!?!

Bobby strolls out of the side door of the warehouse, wearing a black button-up shirt that appears much to small for his chest and arms, he quickly buttons up his jeans, rubbing his thick neck and jogging forward.

That Other Random Guy: Woah, someone’s got the aftershave on!

Bobby: It’s not. It’s motor oil mixed with sweat, sugar and bacon fat.

Bobby climbs into the back of the van, causing it to jolt and tilt to the right as he sits on the right-hand side.

That Random Guy: …Lovely.

That Hispanic Guy finally walks out of the warehouse, wearing a garish suit that consists of a lime green blazer and matching tie with a white shirt and black dress pants, accompanied by a pair of dusty old shoes with Cuban heels. He gives a small grin, opening his arms.

That Hispanic Guy [Laughing cheerily]: My compadres!! It is good to see you all!!

That Random Guy steps back slightly.

That Random Guy [Wincing]: Dude, that jacket should be made illegal.

That Hispanic Guy: Yeah, well, it costs about two of your paychecks, so shut up.

That Hispanic Guy walks around the side of the van, climbing into the drivers seat.

That Other Random Guy: So that’s what happened to your paycheck these past two months!

That Random Guy scowls violently as he and That Other Random Guy climb into the back of the van, slamming the doors shut behind them as the engine roars into life.

*Dog and Handgun - A few hours later*


Outside the Dog and Handgun, a long line of solely males has formed in a rough formation. The males jostle amongst themselves, a jovial atmosphere filling the air. Frank and Will enter the bar first as Dave jogs out of the steps of his flat, pushing a dress shirt which is underneath a leather bikers vest into a pair of stonewash jeans, his tongue sticking out between his teeth.

Dave [Angrily]: DAMN PANTS!

Mantis, Raven and Octopus walk to the top of the concrete, looking to their right at the long line that has formed. Dave joins the very back of it, directly behind That Hispanic Guy, Johan and Mustafa. The back of the line is close to a small, cramped alleyway leading to Walker Street, while the front of the line is forced to wait outside the open doors. Both Brick and Jon are stood either side of the doors, waving the males in and checking them to make sure they aren’t either PMCs or female mercenaries.

Dave: Hey guys.

Johan looks over his shoulder before quickly looking forward.

Johan: Women. Eight o’ clock.

That Hispanic Guy turns his head slightly, waving and grinning at the three women. Octopus gives a timid wave back, while the others don’t bother.

That Hispanic Guy [Bluntly]: Charming chicas.

The line shuffles forward amidst a wave of grunting and talking as Moe, Dick and Maurice enter.

Maurice: Show me the bar, Jon!

Dick: Show me the women, Jon!

Jon: Find them yourselves.

Brick: And no touchin’ the bar til we make sure everyone’s here!

Moe [Snorting]: Boo!

Jon waves him away, motioning to Dean, Samuel and Karab who stroll forward. Brick holds out a hand, stopping them.

Dean [Faux-innocently]: Yesssss?

Brick: Him. The Sikh. He can’t drink.

Karab [Calmly]: And? I’m here to meet the others.

Brick: Yer beard might scare people.

Karab looks down at his bushy, wiry chest-length black beard before looking up at Brick, narrowing his eyes.

Karab [Bitterly]: You didn’t just insult the beard..

Brick: Nope! Just saying—

Jon: We have coke, water, juice, whatever. You got money?

Karab: Ye—

Jon [Hastily]: Then quit talking and get in here! We have a Poker Room and an arcade machine in what used to be the utility closet, while the female toilet is now a small lounge!

Samuel: ….You just put cushions on the toilets, right?

Jon [Darkly]: We don’t have much money around these parts, friend.

Dean: Whatever guys, let’s go. I wanna come home to a succubus!

Samuel slaps Dean sharply around the head as all three men file into the Dog and Handgun. Phil, Jericho, Steve and Ivan stroll forward, nodding at Jon.

Jericho: Lads.

Brick: Jerry. Open the coat.

Jericho cocks an eyebrow, grasping the sides of his trenchcoat and pulling it open.

Jericho: You perving on me or something?

Brick: No, just needed to check you ain’t smuggling in a woman!

Jericho [Narrowing his eyes]: ……You’re fucking weird.

Ivan: That he is.

Jon: Move it or lose it.

Phil: I want to know how Jerry could smuggle a woman in under his trenchcoat?!

Jon: The same way that you can smuggle in Crying Wolf on your back.

Phil looks over his shoulder, cocking an eyebrow.

Phil [Calmly]: ….There’s no-one there.

Jon: Oh, she’s on Ivan now.

Ivan looks over his shoulder at Crying Wolf, who is latched tightly onto his back and is busy nomming on his right shoulder.

Ivan: ….Vat ze vuck?

Wolf [Muffled]: Nomnom.

Jon walks into the bar, reaching behind the right-hand door and grabbing a broom, walking out of the bar and batting it at Wolf. Wolf hisses ferally, scuttling away from Ivan and down the street.

Steve [Taken aback]: ……….Ew.

Phil: That is perhaps the scariest thing I have ever seen in my entire life.

Jericho: What about the Human Centipede?

Phil [Shuddering]: ..I stand corrected!

Jon motions them in, and all four men stroll into the bar. Billy, Vince and Sal stroll forwards, stopping suddenly.

Billy [Bluntly]: There will be Poker, right?

Jon: Poker, booze and chips.

Billy strolls forward, shoving Jon forcefully out of the way.

Jon: Charming cunt….Alright, go in you two.Vince, you couldn’t even shave?

Vince: You didn’t give any stick to Phil for not shaving!

Jon: But he’s a greasy fuck!

Phil’s Voice [Angrily]: I heard that, you shortass motherfucker!

Brick: Just come in.

Sal: I wanna see boobies!

Jon: Look in the mirror, cause you’re an absolute tit.

Sal: Limey insult for the fail.

Jon: …I’ve been hanging around those tea-drinking bastards for way too long. Alright then: You’re a complete and absolute pile of revolting shit and I hate you.

Sal flicks the thumbs up, strolling past Jon.

Sal [Sneering]: That’s better. You put some fucking effort in for once.

Bill, wearing only a pair of camouflage fatigues and boots, strolls forward behind Vince, looking at Jon and Brick. Jon and Brick hold out their hands and Bill stops.

Bill: What?!

Jon: No shirt, no service.

Brick: Yeah, you’ll scare the others.

Bill slams his foot down angrily, reaching into the back pocket of his fatigues and pulling out a crumpled grey rag. Unfolding it and whipping it in the wind to blow it out, he pulls it on, buttoning up an incredibly dirty dress shirt.

Bill [Bitterly]: Happy?!

Jon: No, but get in anyway.

Rex strolls forward, wearing a black tuxedo with a red silk tie and matching cummerbund. He widens his arms, giving a quick spin.

Brick: Purty. Get inside.

Rex nods, grinning at them and strolling past them, flanked by Johnny and Tim. Both men are wearing matching dress shirts, the same silver cufflinks studded with sapphires and even the same dress pants. Brick and Jon hold out their hands, looking at both of them edgily.

Tim: We’re not smuggling in women.

Jon [Staring at their hands]: …Yeah, about that.

Johnny [Looking at Jon hesitantly]: What? We’re holding hands.

Brick: So..you two are--

Johnny [Bluntly]: Yes, homosexual.

Brick looks at both of them cautiously.

Brick: I thought you guys were supposed to wear fake tan, have blonde hair and be better dressed with higher voices?

Johnny [In a stereotypically camp voice]: OH BEHAVE!!

Jon cocks an eyebrow.

Tim: No, but we are. Is that a problem?

Brick: Are female strippers a problem?

Johnny: No, we’re here to drink and maybe play car—

Brick [Cheerily]: Then come in, friends!!

Brick motions them in cheerily as That Hispanic Guy strolls forward, pointing at Johnny and Tim.

That Hispanic Guy: …Gay?!

Jon: So it goes.

That Hispanic Guy shrugs, walking into the Dog and Handgun. Johan and Mustafa follow him in, stopping and cracking their knuckles. Jon and Brick quickly part, allowing them to stroll into the Dog and Handgun. Dave finishes buttoning up his shirt as That Random Guy, That Other Random Guy, Bobby and Stoofer surface behind him.

Jon: Damn, how many more is there?!

Brick: What about the penguin dude?

Jon: ..No. Just no.

Mr. Dibbley [Clearing his throat]: Ahem.

Mr. Dibbley appears from behind Dave, waddling forward and wearing a red silk bowtie.

Jon [Raising an eyebrow]: …….Uhhhh..

Mr. Dibbley waddles through the open doors.

Dave: Hey! I was next!

Dave runs forward through the open doors.

Brick: Hey! Stop! We’re trying to be secure!

Jon: Fuck it. Just come in.

Bobby and Stoofer stroll through the open doors, flanked by That Random Guy and That Other Random Guy. Robbie takes a hesitant step forward.

Jon: What? Aren’t you coming in?

Robbie: I smell a jovial mood.

Jon: That’s the aphrodisiac pumping through the air conditioning.

Brick: Family recipe!

Robbie uneasily walks forward and through the open doors into the dark interior. Brick and Jon slam the doors shut, only for them to have to open them as a rough banging slams on them. Brick and Jon open them, revealing Bob, wearing a preened and pressed black suit.

Bob: Guys!

Jon [Impatiently]: GET YOUR ASS IN HERE, NOW!!

Bob quickly jogs in and Jon and Brick look outside the women still standing at the top of the steps leading up to Frank’s flat.

Brick: Yes?

Octopus hisses violently.

Jon [Snorting]: Cheeky bitch.

Jon and Brick slam the doors to the Dog and Handgun shut, leaving the women standing there.

Raven: Shall we set the place on fire?

Mantis: No.

Raven gives a small whine.

Raven [Sadly]: Why not?!

Mantis: Because it will be much, much more fun to hurt them later.

Raven, Octopus and Mantis wink at eachother all-knowingly.

Octopus: But seriously, what now?

Mantis shrugs nonchalantly. The door to ReLoaded opens and Courtney pokes her head out, her voice loud and clear in the desolation of the street, the only sound being a heavy thudding of bass coming from the Dog and Handgun.

Courtney: Want to come inside?!

Mantis: Yeah, sure.

Raven [Clapping her hands excitedly]: GUNSGUNSGUNSGUNSGUNS!

Raven runs down the steps, hurtling towards ReLoaded. Octopus suppresses a laugh, and both Mantis and Octopus follow Raven.


*Dog and Handgun*

In the Dog and Handgun, business is booming for Jon and Brick, who are busy tending the bar and the kitchen respectively. Near the stage are sat That Random Guy, That Other Random Guy, Vince, Sal, Bobby and Frank, watchingas a blonde stripper undulates against a pole.

Frank [Whooping]: Take it off!

Vince: Dammit, you cheapskate, you have to give her money!

Vince nudges Sal, who coughs loudly, reaching into his pocket and waving a dollar bill.

Sal [Excitedly]: I HAVE MONEY!!

Sal waves the dollar bill in the air.

Vince: That’s it?

Sal [Sneering]: This is a Benjamin, peasant!

The blonde stripper immediately hops down from the stage as the crowd groan loudly, but quickly cheering when a second blonde stripper, seemingly the twin sister of the first, walks onto the stage.

Stripper: One hundred dollars can get you some…time with me.

Sal: That’s what I planned on.

The stripper takes Sal’s hand, dragging him to his feet. Sal lets out a small chuckle, waving goodbye to Vince as the stripper leads him to the male bathroom.

Vince: Cunt.

The door flies open as Dean walks out, looking at Sal and the stripper.

Dean: Hey, Sal, getting laid?

Sal: Yup!

Dean: How much?

Sal: …I resent the implication that I need to pay for sex.

Dean [Chuckling]: One hundred dollars, isn’t it?

Sal [Snarling]: Fuck off.

Dean laughs in his face as Sal and the stripper walk into the toilets, slamming the door shut. Dean strolls over to Maurice, slapping a hand on his back and causing him to belch loudly.

Maurice [Grunting]: Ah shite man…Don’t think the burrito agreed with me like..

Dean: I’ll pay for it, man. Just go release the troops.

Maurice: Good idea, kidda!

Maurice slides off the stool, clutching his bulbous gut and belching loudly, waddling towards the male toilets and pulling the door open so roughly he almost pulls it off his hinges, slamming it shut behind him. Dean laughs loudly, slapping a ten dollar bill down on the counter.

Dean [Smiling happily]: Ahh..cheap price for that kind of happiness.

Jon: So, Dean. What can I get you? Food? Drink? Illegal substances?

Dean [Raising an eyebrow]: …I’ll just have a scotch. A good one. Hold the ice.

Jon: Comin’ right up.

Dean looks to his right, nodding at Moe who is sat the bar.

Dean: Little dude.

Moe: Dean. Are you tired of this?

Dean: Tired of what?

Moe: The game of life. We’re born, we live, we die. Some of us are made to be jokes, like me. Some of us go through with a string of bad luck. Either way, we come out of it dead.

Dean: That’s some heavy shit, man.

Moe slams his glass down, growling loudly and rubbing his eyes.

Moe [Rubbing his temple]: Fucking drink! It’s making me think! JON! I WANNA FORGET!

Jon looks over his shoulder, nodding.

Jon: One Brain Melter, coming right up.

Samuel taps Dean on the shoulder, causing him to twist around.

Dean: Yeah?

Samuel: Where’s Karab?

Dean jabs his thumb to the ceiling.

Dean: Upstairs, second bedroom on the left.

Jon: My bedroom. It’s become the detoxification lounge.

Samuel [Nodding]: …Alright.

Samuel walks past Dean and the bar, opening the first door to his left and looking inside. Inside the cramped, smoky room is a circular table, at which sit Jericho, Ivan, Steve, Billy and Bill. Ivan slams his cards down, yelling out a curse in Russian before stomping out of the room and past Samuel.

Ivan [Spitting violently]: DAMMIT! I HATE THAT FUCKING GAME!!

Ivan lashes a foot out, slamming it into the bar before walking back over to the still open doorway, leaning in and pointing at Vince, who is standing in front of an arcade cabinet with a plastic guitar controller in his hand, strumming noisily to incomprehensible music amidst the bass, laughter and chatter.

Ivan [Angrily]: AND YOU, YOU CUNT, I ALMOST HAD THEM GOING ALL IN IF YOU DIDN’T GIVE MY HAND AWAY!!

Vince: Ivan! I’m on “Through Fire and Flames”! You can kill me later!

Ivan slams the door violently, spitting on the floor.

Ivan [Venomously]: MUDAK!!!

Samuel: Well, wrong door.

Samuel walks away from the door, taking the next door to the right and opening it, turning right and into a stairwell, jogging up the stairs, turning right and pushing open a wooden door. In front of him stands Mustafa, busy drinking from a glass of amaretto.

Mustafa: Samuel.

Samuel: …..Mechanic guy.

Samuel strolls past him, opening the second door on his right. Only two people are in this room, where the air is at least clear enough to breathe: Bob and Karab. Bob is clutching a glass of vodka over ice, while Karab is sitting there with a can of Pepsi, nodding at Samuel.

Karab: Sam.

Samuel: Karab. Just came to check on you.

Bob [Calmly]: He’s fine, we’re just regaling eachother with various tales.

Samuel: Alright.

Bob: Fine tales.

Samuel: I get it. Bob, why are you here anyway? I understand why Karab’s up here—

Bob: I don’t belong down there. I belong up here with select company.

Samuel: Wow, you’re pretentious.

A dull thudding is heard on the wall next to them.

Bob : Pretentious? No, I’m just select about the company I keep.

Bob gives a small sigh.

Karab: So, Samuel, you gonna stay here?

Samuel: Yes, I am.

Samuel strolls over to Karab, sitting next to him on the two-seater leather couch which had been hastily dragged into the room.

Karab [Quietly, to Samuel]: Thank goodness you’re here. He was about to drive me nuts.

The thudding grows louder

That Hispanic Guys Voice: Will you guys shut up in there?! JESUS!

In the room to there left sit That Hispanic Guy, Johan and Mustafa at a glass coffee table, upon which is sat one of the gold bars Robbie handed them.

Johan: So….What now?

That Hispanic Guy: It makes me suspicious. Very suspicious.

Mustafa: …Why?

That Hispanic Guy: How many gold bars have you seen embossed with swastikas?

Mustafa: Not many—

That Hispanic Guy [Snapping his fingers]: EXACTLY!!

Johan: Why would it be cursed?

That Hispanic Guy: Nazi’s!

Johan remains unimpressed.

That Hispanic Guy: Evil!....Grr! Kill you! Rarr!

Johan [Unimpressed]: …Whatever, I’m going to go grab a drink.

Mustafa: And I’m going to set up a Roulette table.

Mustafa gets to his feet, taking the gold bullion off of the table and setting it down, leaning under the couch and pulling out a large Roulette wheel, one presumably abandoned by the Dog and Handgun at an early stage in its life and only recently found. Mustafa sets it on the table, kneeling down and fiddling with a small black motor that extends from the bottom of the wheel by two wires.

That Hispanic Guy [Stroking his chin]: We need suckers to get money from—

Mustafa: Frank!

That Hispanic Guy [Cheerily]: PERFECT!!

Johan: I’ll go. Need a refill anyway.

Johan gets off of the wooden chair he’s sitting on, turning around and walking out of the room and past Johnny who is walking down the coridoor.

Johnny: Sup.

Johan: Hola.

Johan turns left, jogging down the stairwell and turning left, walking through the door and into the main room, walking over to the bar and glancing left through the open door immediately beside it at the Texas Hold ‘Em Game ensuing between Jericho, Billy, Bill, Phil and Steve.

Jericho: Alright Phil, what’s your hand?

Phil’s eyes dart shiftily around the table before setting down three cards.

Phil [Hesitantly]: Five of a kind Aces.

Billy gives an angry sneer, looking over.

Billy: One, there’s only four Aces in a deck. Two, you’re only supposed to have two cards.

Phil: Oh! Shit! I mean full house!

Phil snatches a Ace of Hearts from his hand, one which is clearly forged as judged by the red permanent marker scribbled heart on the card. Phil quickly attempts to look innocent, straightening his face and looking around the table.

Jericho: See, I don’t know whether to stab you in the kidneys, or laugh at you for such a pathetic attempt at cheating.

Bill: Alright Phil, pull your sleeves up.

Phil: I am, I am trying my bes--

Bill [Impatiently]: I MEAN LITERALLY!

Phil gulps, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up. Several cards pour from the sleeves, each one incredibly crudely drawn, including a King of Clubs which appears to be a photograph of Burt Reynolds superglued to a piece of card.

Phil [Nervously]: ……I was….uhh…keeping them…in case the deck…….sets on fire.

Bill [Slamming his fists on the table]: I’m going to set you on fire!!

Vince [Whooping]: I’M GOING FOR THE HIGH SCORE, GUYS!

Bill and Jericho are stopped from lunging over the table by Vince’s call. The five men around the card table look over at Vince, who is busy strumming noisily on the plastic guitar with his tongue sticking out between his teeth in deep concentration.

Jericho: Through Fire and Flames? You do realise Dragonforce is for pussies, don’t you? Real men listen to classic rock! The Scorpions, Deep Purple, Black Sabbath, T-Rex..Real music!

Vince [Impatiently]: SHUT UP! I’M GOING TO DO IT!

Phil gently pushes himself away from the table, edging towards the door and opening it as quietly as he can before shutting it lightly, walking back into the main bar.

Bill: Right, where were—

The men turn around, noticing Phil’s departure.

Bill: ---we.

Jericho [Sneering]: Fuck him. Fuck that cheating cunt. WINNER OF THE NEXT HAND GETS HIS CHIPS!!

Billy snatches the deck of cards.

Billy: Alright boys, put the blinds down.

Jericho places down ten chips, while Steve places down five chips. Billy deals out two cards each to the remaining four men before setting his hand down, keeping the other hand on the deck.

Billy: Right, are we going to be men about this?

Jericho: Say wha’?

Billy shoves every single one of his chips into the middle of the table.

Billy: Let’s rock.

Jericho nods, shoving all the coins and bills next to him into the middle of the table, followed by Bill. Steve simply blinks, and Billy grabs his own piles of money, pushing them into the middle of the table before dealing out five cards next to the pile: A King of Diamonds, A King of Hearts, A Nine of Clubs, A Queen of Hearts and a Two of Spades.

Billy: Alright guys, this is for the pile. Jericho?

Jericho flips his cards, revealing a Two of Diamonds and a Two of Clubs.

Jericho: Three of a Kind. Twos.

Bill flips his cards.

Bill [Angrily]: FUCK IT!

Bill flings his cards across the table, folding his arms angrily.

Bill: A pair of Nine’s. That’s it.

Billy sets his cards down: A Nine of Hearts and a Nine of Diamonds. Jericho glares angrily at the cards as Billy grins happily. Steve remains looking blank at the pile of coins and dollars.

Jericho [Angrily]: CUNT!!!

Billy: That’s right, Three of a Kind Nine’s! Too bad, Jerry!

Steve coughs loudly before flipping his cards, revealing a King of Clubs and a King of Spades.

Steve [Smirking]: Full house?

Steve cracks a cheeky grin as Billy and Jericho stare at his hand, absolutely dumbstruck.

Jericho [Angrily]: FUCKING ARSEWANK!!

Steve rakes in every single coin and dollar bill towards him, grinning inanely and flicking his eyebrows.

Steve [Happily]: Me win!

Billy slams his head off the table, while Jericho simply sits there, paralyzed with rage and amazement.

Vince [Angrily]: DAMMIT!! ALMOST HAD IT ONE HUNDRED PERCENT!!!!

Sal gets back to his feet, grasping Vince’s left shoulder.

Sal [Retching]: Maybe…you should….stop..pissing about…with…..fake guitars…..Uh oh.

Sal doubles over, vomiting on the exposed console and causing it to explode in a shower of sparks and a puff of smoke. Vince grabs the neck of the controller, his eyes flashing angrily as he wields the controller like a club.

Vince [Inanely]: Daihasu moisume….KANTA!!!!! SHIGUUUUUUNNNNNEEEEE—

Sal punches Vince directly on the crotch, causing him to wheeze loudly and double over.

Sal [Laughing]: Your weeaboo power….no match……FOR THE BANG-COCK!!!

Sal laughs loudly, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he collapses backwards.

Sal [Retching]: ….That fucking disgusting Maurice..


*ReLoaded*

Back upstairs in ReLoaded, Wolf and Mantis are sitting at the card table, arms extended over it and palms locked as they struggle in a violent arm-wrestle. Tavi is busy laid on her bed, her legs twitching slightly as Octopus, Raven and Courtney watch the arm-wrestle.

Octopus [Happily]: COME ON, WOLF!!

Mantis hisses violently, pushing with all her strength. Wolf gives a small smile, barely budging.

Wolf: Sorry dear, I’m too strong.

Mantis [Bitterly]: FUCK….YOU!!

Courtney: Damn, Wolf, where’d you get the strength?!

Wolf [Calmly]: Years of gun recoil and handling a railgun tends to build ones strength.

Raven [Chuckling]: Oh, hush, don’t be so humble!

Wolf: What? It does!

Wolf begins to push down on the palm of Mantis, but her arm remains firmly dug into the table, stopping Wolf from slamming the arm down.

Mantis: Not…so…FAST!

A fanfare of trumpets blast out as Dean Martin’s “Ain’t That A Kick In The Head” blares out from the next door Dog and Handgun. Mantis looks up, the momentary distraction costing her as Wolf slams her arm down, causing her to jump to her feet and whoop incessantly.

Wolf [Whooping wildly]: WHO’S THE BEAST?!?! WHO’S THE BEAST?!?!

Mantis: I would have won if it wasn’t for those pathetic meatsacks and their fucking music!

Octopus: Likely story, pay up, Mantis!

Mantis hisses violently, reaching into the pocket of her jeans and handing five dollar bills to Octopus, Raven, Courtney and Wolf.

Raven [Sighing]: Right, well, that’s the gambling done. Should we just say fuck it and ruin their fun?

Mantis: Oh jeez.

Raven: What?

Mantis looks out at the window directly opposite, barely making out the form of the naked Frank as he stumbles back against the window, backflipping out and quickly latching onto the ledge, crying loudly.

Frank [Crying hysterically]: NO! PLEASE! I DIDN’T MEAN TO CHEAT!

The form of Mustafa appears in the window, clutching a steel cobalt-blue crowbar and grinding it against the wooden windowsill.

Mustafa [Bellowing]: I WARNED YOU!! NO ONE RIGS MY ROULETTE MACHINE!! NO ONE!!

Mantis sighs, getting to her feet and walking over to the window, grasping it and shoving it fully open.

Mantis: What did he do?!

Frank looks over his shoulder, laughing nervously as Mantis glares at him. Mustafa quickly pulls the crowbar back.

Mustafa [Angrily]: Rigged my fucking Roulette machine!

Mantis blinks rapidly, looking up at Mustafa.

Mantis: That can’t be. I had to tie his fucking tie tonight.

Mustafa: Then explain it to THIS!

Mustafa reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small, smashed black box that is emitting a feeble beeping sound. Mantis leans out of the window, catching it and looking at it before looking at Frank, then at the device which appears to be an electronic scrambler of sorts.

Mantis: FRANK?! What the fuck?!

Frank gives an innocent chuckle.

Frank [Calmly]: It’s a…uhh..hobby…

Mantis: I can’t belie—Hang on, why are you naked?

Frank [Chuckling nervously]: I..kinda gambled my money…so I bet my suit..

Mantis sighs, rubbing her eyes.

Mantis [Bitterly]: I can’t even remember what I see in you anymore..

Mantis suddenly stops, her head lifting up and watching as a grey sloth uneasily edges across the gutter across the roof of the Dog and Handgun. She turns her head to the left, watching Dave shimmy across the gutter, reaching his hand towards the sloth.

Dave: No! Mishter Deeleeleeleee! Shtop!

Mantis [Bluntly]: That is the weirdest fucking thing I have ever seen in my entire life.

Dave yelps, falling down and letting out a loud cry as he slams into the sanded concrete below with a vicious crunch.

Dave [Laughing inanely]: I’M ALRIGHT! JUST BROKE MY ARM!

Courtney: Hey! Sloth!

Dave: YOU LEAVE MISHTER DEELEELEEE ALONE!!!!

Courtney blinks rapidly, walking over to the window and squeezing her head out of the window, looking down at Dave whose right arm is visibly broken.

Courtney: Ouch, might want to get that patched up!

Dave: Psssh! Nonshensh!

Tavi gives a small groan, rubbing her eyes.

Tavi [Angrily]: Do I have to get up?!

Octopus squeezes her head out of the window, getting on her tiptoes and raising her head above Courtney’s, watching as Mustafa gives out a small, bull-like snort before dropping his crowbar and slamming the window shut on Frank’s fingers with a sickening crunch. Frank squeals like a pig, letting go of the windowsill and falling downwards, landing on Dave who inadvertently cushions Frank’s fall.

Frank: Dave…You saved me!

Dave [Enraged]: I’LL KILL YOU!!!

Frank screams loudly, jumping to his feet and running out of the alleyway as Dave stumbles up to his feet, reaching into the inside pocket of his leather jacket and pulling out a switchblade.

Frank [Crying]: NO! DAVE! DON’T!

Dave [Cackling inanely]: I’MMA GUT’CHA LIKE A PIGGIE!!!

Mantis sighs, pulling her head from out of the window, followed by Octopus and Courtney, before slamming the window shut and turning into the room, tapping her feet impatiently.

Mantis [Sighing]: Right, fuck it, we’re going in.

Tavi: ….Do we..have to?

The other women look over at Tavi, who slowly raises her head, her legs still twitching.

Tavi: Wh-what?

Mantis: Do we want to know?

Tavi [Flushed]: SHUT UP!!!

Courtney: Just give her a few minutes. Either that or help her.

Courtney gives a small wink at Wolf, who winks back at her. Mantis and Raven look at both of them oddly. However, their train of thought is interrupted as the window visible to them from the Dog and Handgun is flung open and Dave, now shirtless, climbs out and latches onto the gutter, shimmying over to the sloth and reaching out a hand.

Dave: Mishter Deeleeleeleeee! Come on!

The sloth slowly turns its head, looking at Dave before dropping down into his outstretched arm, Dave pulls his arms towards him, cradling the sloth close to his chest.

Dave [Laughing]: I LOVE YOU, SHLOTHY!!

The sloth snuggles into Dave’s chest before swiping lightly with its incredibly-long claws. Dave lets out a rough scream.

Dave [Shocked]: NO! SHLOTHY! SHIT!

Dave lets go of the gutter in pain, screaming violently as he falls from the gutter, landing on the concrete a second time with a sickening crack.

Dave: Well, there goesh my cocshyx!!

Tavi lets out an enraged grunt, swinging her legs around and sitting on the edge of the bed, getting to her feet.

Tavi [Growling irritably]: Let’s roll, ladies.

*Dog and Handgun*

Back in the Dog and Handgun, That Random Guy is sitting at the bar, clutching a Tequila Sunrise and drinking it happily.

That Random Guy: Y’know, this is the best cocktail I’ve had!

Jon winks at Brick happily. Brick winks back.

Brick: You could say the extra ingredient is moonshine!

That Random Guys lips purse as he swallows, his eyes slowly glazing over.

That Random Guy [Quietly]: …..I can tell……Well, goodnight.

That Random Guy collapses backwards off of his stool. Jon scowls, slapping Brick’s arms.

Jon [Angrily]: We want them to remember it, you dumb cunt!

Brick: Hey! Not my fault the boy can’t handle his drink!

Dave appears through the double doors, kicking them shut behind him and clutching the sloth tightly in his arms. Jon scowls, walking from behind the bar and over to the doors, bolting them shut.

Jon [Angrily]: Look, will you stop doing this shit? We’re trying to keep the women out!...And where the fuck did you get a sloth?!

Dave [Giggling]: Found it upstairs..

Jon slowly turns his head to Brick, who whistles innocently, pouring a whiskey into a glass.

Jon [Scowling]: What the fuck did you do?!

Brick: What? I was gonna give Moneypennies a treat! He likes the occasional sloth! Although it makes cleaning his shit up a nightmare..

Bob strolls over to the bar from the stairwell, tapping the bar.

Bob: Gin and tonic, Brick.

Will stumbles over to the bar with That Other Random Guy in tow, hiccupping and holding a finger up.

Will: Make mine a gin…just gin.

Bob: Hey Will.

Will [Sneering]: Piss off, peasant.

That Other Random Guy and Will laugh loudly. That Other Random Guy latches onto Will’s back, laughing loudly.

Bob: Hey, *Beep*….I thought you hated Will?

That Other Random Guy [Cheerily]: Nah..Will’s a cool guy!

That Other Random Guy leans towards Bob.

That Other Random Guy [Quietly]: It’s a ruse. I need his wallet. Mustafa threatened to break my legs if I don’t give him the money I owe him.

Bob [Quietly]: Ah. So, Will…How are things with Raven?

Will [Mumbling]: Fine. Just fine.

Bob: Right..

That Other Random Guy slips into Will’s back pocket, pulling out a snakeskin wallet and slowly inching away towards the stairwell. Brick sets down a gin in front of Bob, who sniffs it, his eyes almost crossing.

Bob [Retching]: JESUS! What’s in this?!

Brick: Gin.

Bob: Smells like fucking turpentine!

Phil: You should try the whiskey. It smells like gasoline.

Phil approaches from behind Bob, slamming a glass on the bar.

Phil: Speaking of which: Fill ‘er up, Brick.

Bob takes a sip of the gin, crunching his nose before diving over the bar, grabbing the bottle that Brick had placed on the shelf and unscrewing it, gulping down half of it before collapsing. Jon walks over from locking the door, only to slap Brick roughly on the cheek and step over Bobs fallen body.

Jon [Angrily]: STOP KNOCKING OUR CUSTOMERS OUT!!

Brick: Not my fault they can’t handle liquor!

A loud, raucious banging explodes against the door. Jon sighs, leaning down and slamming his head against the bar.

Bob [Giddily]: The colours! I see the colours!

Jon storms over to the door, pulling out the locks and opening the doors, only to fly back when the person kicks the doors open. Standing in the doorway, his visage backed by the setting sun, is Coach Lynch, fully clothed in a tuxedo which contrasts oddly with his Marine-style cropped sides haircut and his general rugged demeanour,

Jon [Surprised, Frightened]: OH FUCK!

Lynch: That’s right, asshole. Trying to bar me?

Jon [Gasping]: Where the fuck were you?!

Lynch: I had duties to pull at the academy, rookie. Unlike you guys, some recruits actually want training.

Jon: Bullshit!

Lynch slaps Jon roughly around the cheek.

Lynch [Snarling]: Are you going to pour me a drink or what?!

Jon [Reeling]: Yeah, fine..

Jon rubs his cheek, turning around and walking behind the bar. Lynch slowly moves behind Frank, who is sat to the side of the stage, slapping a hand on his shoulder.

Lynch: Hey Frank.

Frank: LYNSH!! OH SHIT!!

Frank collapses backwards out of his seat, sending Lynch scuttling backwards.

Lynch: ..Indeed.

Jon places a cold bottle of Budweiser on the bar and Lynch strolls over, snatching it up.

Jon: If you want to gamble, we have a poker room beside the bar or roulette upstairs. Even though we didn’t set the fucking thing up AND WON’T PROFIT FROM IT!!

Mustafa’s Voice: Quit whining!

Jon [Scathingly]: Asshole.

Lynch: So, roulette upstairs?

Jon: And a relaxing room next door to it—[Angrily] For fucks sake, DAVE!!

Dave turns around, still holding the sloth who is now busy urinating on the carpet. Jon reaches under the bar, grabbing a baseball bat.

Dave [Inanely]: Wha? Huh? Wha?

Jon [Venomously]: I’m going to knock you the fuck out.

Dave: Like hell you will!

Dave throws the sloth at Jon. The sloth immediately latches onto Jon’s face as he screams loudly, running out of the bar and waving his arms as Dave gives chase.

Dave: NO!! COME BACK MISHTER DEELEELEEE!!!

Lynch [Calmly]: …Ooookay.

Lynch takes a quick drink of Budweiser, turning right and shoving the door to the Game Room open. Mr. Dibbley, Dean, Vince and Samuel are sitting around the Poker Table, the plastic guitar controller from the arcade cabinet firmly embedded in the wall behind it.

Dean [Happily]: Hey, Lynch! Finally made it?

Mr. Dibbley: Good to see you, old boy!

Lynch: Holding down the fort, boys?

Samuel: Yeah.

Lynch: Just waiting for the day when we can give those PMCs the what-for, huh?!

Vince [Bluntly]: No.

Lynch [Snidely]: Who said I was going to let YOU anywhere near the front line?

Vince: I can blow stuff up!

Lynch: So does half the damn Company!

Vince jolts up and Lynch slams the door shut, laughing cruelly before turning around, watching as Jon walks past him.

Jon: I need to….deal with a few things.

Bob [Drunkenly]: I CAN SEE THE RAINBOW!!

Lynch cocks an eyebrow, turning around and walking over to the bar, leaning over it and looking down at Bob who is laid on his back, giggling inanely.

Bob: I can see….STUFF!!

Lynch [Surprised]: Jesus Christ, it must really be a special night if you’ve let your hair down!!

Bob giggles inanely, stumbling up to his feet and grabbing Lynch’s jaw.

Bob [Inanely]: Lynch…Lynch..You want to know something?...I LIKE YOU!....And I like…..PIZZA!!!......And…..OH GOD, WHAT HAS BECOME OF MY LIFE?!?!?

Bob breaks down, slamming his head on the bar and sobbing hysterically. Lynch takes a few steps back, turning right and instead jogging to the stairwell, quickly edging through the door and jogging up the stairs, jogging past Johnny and Tim who edge past him. He heads through the door, turning and walking through the first door near him, opening it and walking into the room. The two leather couches and glass table have been shunted aside, piled against the left room, leaving only a large wooden table presumably scavenged elsewhere with a Roulette Wheel set upon it behind a piece of green cloth with hastily drawn black marker markings drawn upon it. That Random Guy, That Other Random Guy, Johan, Phil and Jericho are stood in front of the table, staring at the wheel with odd intent.

Phil: C’mon, lucky zero!

Jericho [Excitedly]: Red fourteen!! RED FOURTEEN!!

That Other Random Guy: No way, black nine! BLACK NINE!

The wheel stops, the ball rattling as it does.

Mustafa: …Green Zero.

Phil [Ecstatically]: FUCKYEAHFUCKYEAHFUCKYEAHFUCKYEAHGIMMEGIMMEGIMME!!!!

Phil jumps up and down, holding out his hands. Mustafa slowly raises an eyebrow.

Mustafa: Yes, very lucky.

Phil: HAHAHA No, seriously, give me the money I won.

Mustafa hands over a wad of money over to Phil who snatches it up, flicking his thumb through it and looking up at Mustafa.

Mustafa [Raising an eyebrow]: Yes?

Phil: You aren’t thinking I cheated…are you?

Mustafa: ……..Maybe.

Phil: Search me!

Phil tears off his shirt, throwing it to the floor as Mustafa cringes.

Mustafa [Disgusted]: Jesus, put your fucking shirt back on, I get it..

Phil turns around, stumbling back when he sees Lynch.

Phil: Fucking hell!

Lynch [Wincing]: I was about to say the same thing..Could at least shave your chest, you filthy fucking hippie..

Phil: Yeah yeah.

Phil inches past Lynch, shutting the door behind him.

Mustafa: Lynch. Here to place a bet?

Lynch: No, just here to check up on my soldiers.

That Random Guy: C’mon Lynch! Just a few bucks!

Lynch: …Fine.

Lynch inches between Jericho and That Random Guy, pulling five one-dollar bills from his pocket and placing it on black twenty-one. Jericho places a few dollar bills on green zero as Mustafa spins the wheel.

Mustafa: I swear, if this thing lands on green zero again, I’m going to tear some fucking heads off of necks.

The ball rattles as the wheel stops, the ball landing firmly on black twenty one.

Lynch [Smirking]: My lucky day.

Jericho [Angrily]: FUCKING HELL!!!

Mustafa [Laughing]: That’s some shit luck, Jerry.

Jericho [Angrily] : Fuck off! Fuck this game!

Jericho turns around, pulling the door open roughly and storming out of the room as Johnny edges in, looking at Lynch and nodding.

Johnny: Yo.

Lynch: Camera guy.

Johnny: That’s me.

A small, awkward silence punctuates the air.

Lynch: ….As you were.

Lynch takes his money from Mustafa, turning around and sliding out the door before heading back to the stairwell, jogging downstairs with Karab in tow.

Lynch: Eeny meeny miny mo, I sense I have a Sikh in tow.

Karab: Alright, how can you tell I’m a Sikh?

Lynch: I can’t, but I can smell the spices from the Kebab shop. Neither Dean nor his brother would have the balls to walk behind me either.

Karab [Smirking]: Yes, well, us Gurkha’s do have balls. Mainly from the men we cut them off.

Lynch [Bluntly]: I honestly would not put that past you.

Karab suddenly shivers, causing Lynch to stop.

Lynch: What?

Karab [Disturbed somewhat]: …I sense trouble.

*Beale Street*

Out on the dark street, Tavi is leading Octopus, Courtney, Raven, Wolf and Mantis on the incredibly short walk towards the Dog and Handgun, which is literally five steps away. They reach the door in mere seconds, but as soon as Tavi lunges forward, Mantis grabs her, pulling her back. Tavi glares at her angrily.

Tavi [Angrily]: What the fuck are you doing?!

Mantis: Bad plan! We have to be smart about this!

Tavi [Snarling]: Smart my ass! I want to spill some fucking blood and break some fucking bones!

Mantis: No, we have to go in there, seduce them and leave. They’re drunk, they’re stupid, and they won’t respond well to swift and blinding violence, as satisfying as it might be.

Raven raises her hand. Mantis nods at her.

Raven: Can I set the bar on fire afterwards?

Mantis: …Maybe.

Raven lets out a giddy giggle, tapping her feet.

Tavi [Sneering]: C’mon, that’s bullshit!

Mantis: Why?

Tavi: Because violence is ALWAYS the answer! ALWAYS!

Octopus [Calmly]: She has a point. If they’ve been drinking, they’ll be easier to drag out after a few kicks and punches.

Wolf [Giddily]: I agree. Spill their blood and break their teeth!

Mantis: Look, can we be reasonable about this?

Wolf [Cackling]: NEVER!

Tavi [Grinning]: Let us cut their throats and spill their sweet blood!

Mantis: Okay, what the fuck is wrong with you? You’re awfully violent tonight. Aren’t you supposed to be the tame female of ReLoaded?

Tavi: I was busy.

Mantis cocks an eyebrow and Tavi shrugs.

Tavi [Smirking]: What can I say? It gives me concentration!

Courtney cocks her right eyebrow, pulling her head back and looking at Tavi hesitantly.

Courtney: Why do I doubt that?

Mantis sighs, shaking her head and snapping her fingers roughly.

Mantis: Alright ladies, you know the plan. Go in there, seduce our men, leave.

Raven: I thought it was go in, seduce our men, set fire to bar, leave?

Mantis: ….We’ll see.

Raven grins brightly, clapping her hands together giddily. Mantis clears her throat, walking forward and knocking on the doors.

*Dog and Handgun*

Frank, who is now laying out on the floor just in front of the doors wearing only his underwear, grunts loudly, rolling onto his stomach.

Frank [Grunting loudly]: No…No mama…..No….Not barbecue...gimme some salad…..

Frank quickly hops onto his knees, rubbing his eyes roughly.

Frank [Gasping]: SHIT!!! I’d never order salad over barbecue! What the—Oh, right.

Frank looks to his right at Dave and Robbie sitting at the stage, drinking a bottle of Budweiser and a glass of Armagnac respectively, moving his eyes and watching as Mr. Dibbley slaps a flipper on the bar, with Jon setting down a glass of water over ice. Frank belches out a few cigarette butts, hairs and a nickel, rubbing his dry lips.

Frank: …Good night so far…

The knocking occurs again and Frank stumbles to his feet, grabbing the handles. Steve looks over at them, walking out from the female bathroom with Karab and Lynch in tow, all three men clutching empty glasses.

Steve [Hastily]: Frank! Don’t! I sense evil!

Frank: Yeah, right.

Frank pulls the doors open, revealing the women. The music suddenly cuts out and the head of every single male turns, quickly hopping to their feet and forming a rough huddle between the bar and the stage. In the game room, Vince, Dean and Samuel rush out.

Dean: What’s the hubbub—OH SWEET JESUS!

Heavy thudding is heard as several people run down the stairs, the door to the stairwell bursting open as Johan, Mustafa, Johnny and Tim appear, still clutching handfuls of dollar bills.

Johnny: Uh oh.

Frank scuttles backwards towards the group on his rear, crying out hysterically as the women take a few steps forward into the bar.

Mantis [Grinning]: Hello boys.

Mantis tears off her top, revealing a black lacy bra.

Vince: This isn’t good.

Mantis: Frank. I have a present for you.

Tim [Wincing]: You were right!

Tavi: I’m not going to fucking degrade myself just to ruin their fun! But I’ll degrade her.

Tavi grabs Mantis’s pants, tearing them off in one swift swipe.

Billy [Bluntly]: Ah shit.

Moe [Slowly stepping backwards]: This definitely isn’t good.

The bar falls silent.

That Hispanic Guy: ….I don’t like this!

Vince: Neither do I! Hold me!

Vince grabs That Hispanic Guy, who slaps him roughly around the cheek, causing him to stumble backwards and hit the floor.

That Hispanic Guy: No homo! No homo!

Johnny: OI!

That Hispanic Guy: Not like that, compadre!

Mantis [Quietly]: Frank? Aren’t you supposed to be drooling?

Frank [Chuckling nervously]: ..It’s kind of hard to surrounded by more guys than women.

Jon strolls out from the toilets, pulling up his zipper and stopping suddenly, carefully watching the women.

Jon: …Uh oh.

Raven [Snarling]: We want our men back. Right now.

The men remain stationary and stoic. Will shoves Frank forward, causing him to stumble forward, stopping mere inches away from Mantis.

Frank: uhhh…hi…honey?

Mantis: Hello Frank.

Jon: Well, this is awkward.

Frank looks up at Mantis’s black lace thong, gulping loudly.

Frank [Whining]: ….Lynch?

Lynch: ………What?

Frank [Whining]: ….There are certain parts of me that are acting very un-American right now..

The entire male section of the bar groans in disgust, taking a few steps back.

Johnny [Wincing]: That’s actually quite sickening.

Jon: Why the hell are you women doing this?!

Mantis: Oh, it’s not personal. It’s just that we hate being shunted aside.

Jon: But Lynch said you were organizing a night out!!

Mantis [Smirking]: ….I never said I wasn’t being selfish, darling. I just prefer my men under the thumb and screaming until their lungs pop.

Dave [Chuckling]: In all fairness, that does sound like Frank.

The male section of the bar mumbles in agreement amongst themselves, nodding.

Octopus [Angrily]: BOB?!

Lynch: What about him?

Octopus [Inanely]: My poor little Bob, forced into this bar to drink like a heathen! Where is he?! TELL ME!!

Bob slowly raises his head above the bar, letting loose a small hiccup.

Bob [Groaning]: …..Hey…….

Bob ducks under the bar, vomiting noisily. Octopus’s right eye twitches violently.

Octopus: …It took me months to make him obedient. MONTHS!

Lynch [Intensely]: WE BOW TO NO MAN!

Vince: Or woman.

Lynch: OR WOMAN!

Lynch slaps Vince sharply around his left ear, causing him to yelp loudly.

Mantis: Look, all we ask is for our men to be returned to us, and we’ll leave.

Lynch [Intensely]: WE WILL NOT BACK DOWN!! WE WILL NOT SURRENDER!!

Bob’s head pops out from behind the bar again as he gives a small hiccup.

Bob [Giggling]: ……..Penis!

Bob ducks back under the bar, vomiting once more.

Brick: Hey! I have to clean that up!

Octopus sighs, lifting her shirt slightly to reveal her navel.

Octopus [Bluntly]: Well, since my little slave has been forced from me, the first person to touch me gets me.

Sal stumbles forward, but Billy locks him in a rear naked choke, pulling him backwards as Sal claws at the air.

Sal [Inanely]: ME. WANT. ME. WANT. ME. WANT.

Billy [Angrily]: Dammit, Sal! She’s a succubus!

Dean strolls forward, whistling innocently. Karab slams the edge of his fist into the area between his neck and shoulder, causing him to fall straight forward onto the floor, unconscious.

Lynch: Nice one, Sikh.

Karab: ….You could’ve just said nice one.

Lynch: I like to label you with your ethnicity or religion. It’s…….a sign of affection.

Samuel [Bluntly]: No it’s not.

Mantis clears her throat loudly, once again getting the attention of the male half. Mantis nudges Raven, who glares ahead. Will scuttles forward, falling onto his knees in front of Raven and bowing down, grabbing her high-heel clad feet and kissing them.

Will: Forgive me, ma’am, they forced me!

Raven gives a small smile.

Raven: Good boy.

Will gives a small, cat-like purr, nuzzling his cheek against her feet.

Lynch [Wincing]: That’s so embarrassing I’d cringe if I didn’t have a spine.

Robbie [Snarling]: You’re surprised? He’s no more of a man than a dog!

Several of the male mercenaries turn their heads to Robbie, who was absent from the surroundings for most of the night, clutching a glass of Armagnac.

Robbie [Raising his glass]: What? Fight on, I say! Fight on! I always love appearing whenever there’s danger brewing!

Mr. Dibbley [Raising a flipper]: Bloody good show!

Robbie [Laughing]: Bloody good show!

Mr. Dibbley edges forward slightly, but he catches the eye of Karab who raises his outstretched palm again, eyes flashing dangerously. Mr. Dibbley waddles backwards into the crowd.

Wolf [Smirking]: Alright, speaking of men who are dogs…Where’s Phil? It’s time for his daily bloodletting.

Dave: …You know, if Octopus lifts that shirt more..

Tim: Stand firm, men! Stand firm!

Dave [Grinning]: ….I am.

Another groan of disgust ripples across the male mercenaries, some of them stepping away from Dave as Octopus lifts her shirt further, revealing the lower portion of her bra. Dave takes a few steps forward and Karab edges towards him, palm raised high.

Dave: …..Me want that.

Dave takes another step forward, but stops suddenly as Karab takes a step forward.

Karab [Bluntly]: Another step and I will literally force your head up your own rectum.

Dave: Charming!

A sloth drops down from the disco ball glinting above them, landing in Dave’s arms.

Lynch [Confused]: What in the mother of Jesus?

Samuel slowly inches forward towards Octopus. Karab notices, raising his other hand up high.

Ivan: Even you?

Samuel [Calmly]: Well, what red-blooded male wouldn’t want a smoking hot blonde like her?

Ivan slowly steps forward.

Ivan: You have a point..

Octopus gives a small, devilish smirk.

Karab: Dammit! Someone help me, here, I’m not Vishnu!

Lynch pulls Ivan backwards with his right hand, stepping in front of him.

Lynch [Calmly]: Men, stand down.

Mantis: This will only work if we all get involved.

Wolf [Venomously]: I’m not going to make myself a piece of meat for these pathetic misogynists. I would rather see them bleed out than seeing them whimper for me.

Samuel slowly takes another step forward.

Octopus: …You have a point.

Octopus lowers her shirt and the entire male section breathes out a sigh of relief.

Dave: Dammit. Well, at least my dreams will be more real now.

The male mercenaries slowly turn their heads to Dave.

Dave: You were all thinking it, don’t lie!

Johnny: Man, this is pathetic. Look at you all! Aren’t you supposed to be tough-as-nails? Sex should not be an option! You should be standing firm! And no, that wasn’t a sex joke.

That Random Guy: And what if it was….Johnny Depp…or…Bruce Willis?

Tim: He’s got a point.

Frank [Shrugging]: I’d go gay for Johnny Depp.

That Other Random Guy: Wouldn’t we all?

Dave: Bruce Willis? Maybe for guys into older guys, sure.

Johnny: Who wouldn’t want to rub that bald dome of his and whisper sweet nothings into his ear?

Jon: I bet he’s a fucking tiger in bed.

Every male mercenary slowly turns their head to Jon.

Jon [Shrugging]: What?? You were all thinking it!!

Mantis: This is actually an interesting, if rare, view into the psyche of you males.

Lynch: I never really saw this conversation coming.

Mantis: Shall we get back on topic?

Courtney: Alright. As much as I’d love to tease them, I have too strong of a spine to do so.

Tavi [Smirking]: Like I said: Blow the fuckers away.

Mantis: No, we’re not-----……Hold on.

Mantis looks down at Frank, licking her lips.

Frank [Gulping]: Ah fishsticks.

Lynch: Dammit Frank, get outta there!

Frank: Hold on…blow?

Mantis [Smirking]: Yep.

Mantis stops as Phil, Bobby and Jericho wander in through the open doors, giggling like schoolgirls. The women turn around, scowling at them. Wolfs expression brightens.

Wolf [Grinning]: PHIL.

Phil: SOMEONES VOMITING COINS UP OUT THERE!!!

Jericho: It’s fuckin’ crazy! There’s blood and coins and shit!

Bobby: You should see it! You should fuckin’ see it!

Jericho doubles over, laughing and wheezing as Phil falls to one knee, somehow laughing louder than Jericho. Wolf, at the sound of the word blood, rushes past Jericho, Bobby and Phil and out of the doors. The males remain still and stoic, looking uneasily at eachother. Mantis groans loudly, turning around and following Wolf as she bounds outside, followed by Tavi, Raven and Octopus. Courtney looks at Phil, cocking an eyebrow.

Courtney: Phil, are you lying?

Phil [Laughing inanely]: NOOOOOO!!!

Courtney glares at Phil, edging past him and uneasily walking through the doors. Jericho, Bobby and Phil suddenly stop laughing, hopping to their feet and twisting around, grasping the doors and wrenching them forward and pushing the shut with a violent slam. Mantis growls loudly, realising she’s been had, and turns around, pounding on the doors. Every single man rushes forward, pressing their bodies against the door as Bobby struggles violently, reaching inside his suit and pulling out a monkey wrench, sliding it between the handles to form a makeshift bar. Mustafa follows up, placing a crowbar above the wrench to strengthen the makeshift lock. Raven kicks violently at the door, causing it to buckle slightly and causing the crowbar and wrench to bend, which only serves to lock the door more.

Jon [Cackling]: TAKE THAT, BITCHES!!!

The Dog and Handgun bursts into a roar of laughter. Jons face presses against the window of the right-hand door, jabbing a finger down at them and laughing. In the left hand window, Dave unbuckles his jeans, crawling up several of the mercenaries and pressing his rear against the window, mooning the women and causing a giant roar of laughter to fill the air.

Lynch [Ecstatically]: WELL DONE, MEN! WELL DONE! MEDALS FOR ALL!

A giant roar goes up again as Raven kicks the door again, growling hysterically. Phil, Jericho, Bobby and That Hispanic Guy run to the left hand window, bolting it shut and pointing at the scowling women, laughing loudly at them.

Jericho [Laughing]: TAKE THAT, YOU SUCCUBI!!

Bobby pounds the window with the flat of his fist, deliberately riling them up as both Mantis and Raven begin kicking wildly at the double doors. Lynch takes a few steps backwards, pumping his fists into the air as the men remain against the doors. Sal, Frank, Bill and Ivan run over to the right hand window, pounding on it and laughing wildly. Frank gives a small shrug and a smile as Mantis walks in front of the window, beginning to pound against it angrily with her fists.

Jon: Double-glazing and bulletproof, bitch!

Dave slaps his rear as Lynch laughs loudly, the banging slowly subsiding. Mantis walks up to the left hand window, swiping a thumb across her throat before walking off to the right, flanked by Octopus, Raven and Wolf. Courtney and Tavi look somewhat amused by the ordeal. Courtney presses her face up to the left-hand window, staring at them.

Courtney [Hissing]: Iiiiiiiiii keeeeeellllllll yoooooouuuuuu…

Jericho slams the window with his fist and Courtney steps backwards, sticking her tongue at them before following Mantis. The males quickly step back from the door, turning around and letting out a united roar of victory.

Lynch: DRINKS ARE ON ME!!

The roar gets even louder, causing the disco ball to dislodge and fall to the floor, shattering into pieces. Several mercenaries run over to the bar, diving over it while several others hop onto the stage, dancing with the strippers as Jon quickly changes the music to “Looking For A Fox”. Dave surfaces from behind the bar, clutching two bottles of beer and raising them high, smashing them together and causing an explosion of foam to fly into the air, quickly drinking them.

Jon: …You better be paying for those!

Moe crawls onto the bar, grabbing a bottle of Absolut and unscrewing the top, beginning to drink the contents.

Lynch: Leave ‘em! We need the morale!

Jon [Angrily]: You’ll be getting the fucking bill!

Lynch [Laughing]: LET ME! I DON’T CARE!!

Lynch laughs loudly in Jons face, tapping his feet in time to the song as Jericho dances past him, hopping onto the stage and dancing with a brunette stripper. Frank stumbles towards Lynch, patting him on both shoulders.

Frank [Tearing up]: LYNCH! I LOVE YOU!

Lynch: Hey, I just bought a round, let’s keep it there for now.

Lynch puts his hands on his hips, nodding as Frank stumbles past Johnny and Tim who are dancing together, laying out cold on floor and letting out a noisy belch. Lynch gives a small smirk, watching as Sal, Vince and Billy hop onto the bar, beginning to dance. Billy leans down, grabbing Mr. Dibbleys right flipper, pulling him onto the bar as they begin clapping their hands in unison to the song.

Lynch: Damn straight. Damn fucking straight. About time we got some sense of unity rolling.

Lynch claps his hands, whistling shrilly in approval as the scene fades.