Thursday, 30 July 2015

Saga III Chapter VI - The Black Sea Blues


Back in the Middle East, within Mother's office, sits Lynch at Mother's desk. Mother herself is sat behind the desk, deep in conversation on her mobile phone. After a few heated minutes, Mother hangs up her mobile, placing it on the desk.

Mother: The Cobras Fumantes PMC has taken full control of Tennessee. It is now under control of the Brazilian government, as well as the Mercenary Academy.

Lynch: ....Is...uh...that good?

Mother: It is merely one stage of a complex plan. Though I regret the very high civilian body count that is emerging, the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. As sad as it sounds, Tennessee falling is a necessity. As soon as New Mexico, Texas and Louisiana fall, the second stage begins.

Lynch: ...and the plan is?

Mother: Once the United States weakens, it will fight back. Of course, it will walk headfirst into a Brazilian military juggernaut. While the Brazilian snake bites into the throat of the American mongoose, I will make a few political arrangements, mostly in the form of supplying Brazil with extra manpower from the Academy. If all goes to plan, I should be able to negotiate the freedom of the Academy from any national power. The Academy would still be recognised as being under the United Nations would be mine to control.

Lynch: And if it isn't?

Mother [Giving a wry smile]: Don't underestimate me, cher. I do think and execute plans on the move. Another plan is simply to have the Academy evacuated here and subsequently demolished with several thousand pounds of explosives.

Lynch: Ah, man, I love the blunt, explosive approach.

Mother: We will see.

Lynch: But isn't Cobras Fumantes headed by one of your guys? What is it...Daniel?

Mother: Daniel trained with us for a period of time and i'm hoping that will, considering he leads their PMC, allow negotiations between us and Brazil to go smoothly.

Lynch: From what I remember, he's a fucking insane bastard, though.

Mother: He is....passionate. He is also undyingly loyal. Though his loyalties lie to Brazil first and foremost, he does retain loyalty to the Academy.

Lynch: Let's bloody hope he does. So, who's going to be the unlucky bastard sent to fetch Dan?

Mother: I'll be sending in an envoy....backed by Reaper Company.

Lynch: Aye, fucking Reapers get all the fun..

Mother: ......Well, if you really want to be busy, I do have a mission--Well...a request.

Lynch: Say it.

Mother: As you know, Dibbley is doing a good job of sniping. Always vigilant, he is acting very well in the defence of Beale and Walker Street. However, I feel as if we need another sniper.

Lynch: Go on.

Mother: I need somebody to head to South Africa and find the man known simply as 'Krige'.

Lynch: NOT KRIGE!!

Mother: Yes.

Lynch [Laughing in disbelief]: Mother, Krige wasn't just dishonorably discharged, he fucking massacred an entire unit. HIS OWN UNIT! You took him in and he STILL fucked off whilst we were on a training mission in Cape Town! The crazy son of a bitch is living on a mountain, last I heard!

Mother [Calmly]: I want Krige here. He can prove to be invaluable.

Lynch: He could prove to be fucking insane!

Mother: I understand your apprehension, Marcus, but that is why we will make Krige an offer he can't refuse--

Lynch: Kill him?

Mother: No, Marcus: I do have a very attractive offer to make to him, one that won't require him to be out on the front line. Instead, he will be out here on defence, given an endless supply of PMC's to shoot and a meal in his stomach at the end of every day. Combined with fair payments, I believe Krige will not refuse such an offer.

Lynch: Like Krige gives a fuck about food. He's probably out in the African plains hunting and eating dik-dik or wildebeest or antelope or some shit.

Mother [Smirking slightly]: Don't worry, Marcus. You always worry, but you forget one thing: You can trust your Mother.

Lynch looks into Mother's eyes, giving a small sigh before nodding and pushing his chair away.

Lynch: You know I do, Mother, but sometimes.....I just....wonder if you're not under pressure.

Mother [Calmly]: I understand your concerns Lynch, but I am not making any decisions rashly. I am thinking about them, and there is not a minute of any day when I am not planning our next moves. Do not worry.

Lynch: Alright...

Lynch gets to his feet, turning around and walking towards the door of the office.

Mother: Marcus.

Lynch [Turning around]: Yeah?

Mother: Take Stephen, Tenpenny, Fabien and the newest anthro with you. I want to test the new blood.

Lynch: Yes, ma'am.

Mother: And Marcus?

Lynch: Yeah?

Mother: .....If Krige resist, kill him.

Lynch [Quietly]: You know me.

Lynch turns around, walking out of the room and shutting the door behind him as Mother sits there, reading through Krige's file.


Out in Beale Street, some life has returned to the street as some mercenaries have elected to return home rather than squander their pitiful lives on vacation. Outside Kebaborama, Dean's kebab shop, stand Dean, Samuel and Karab, now with the anthorpomorphic saluki Kane and the grumpy old redneck Bobby Bingham in tow. With rucksacks on their backs, Dean unlocks the door of Kebaborama, kicking it open and taking a deep breath.

Dean [Happily]: HOME SWEET [Darkly] Hell.

Tavi [Calling out]: Hey!

Dean, Samuel, Karab, Bobby and Kane turn their heads: Outside ReLoaded stands Tavi, who swiftly walks towards them. Her eyes are slightly wide as she points at Kane, who doesn't appear to share the same shock or surprise.

Tavi [In disbelief]: I-Is this h-him? Another one?!

Dean: Sure is. Andrew, meet Tavi. Tavi? Andrew Kane. Former SAS. Raised as Brit: Another fucking limey.

Kane: Shut up, Dean.

Dean [Coldly]: Fuck off, furfag.

Tavi [Laughing nervously, scratching her left forearm]: Well, our family grows!

Kane: Yeah, it does,

Dean: Be nice, furfag--

Tavi turns to Dean, hitting him with a blisteringly quick right hook. Dean's head snaps back and he hits the ground in a crumpled heap, splayed out in an "X" shape on the ground. Kane sighs in relief, looking down at Dean then at Tavi.

Kane: Thank you.

Tavi [Sweetly]: Don't mention it.

Samuel [Looking down at Dean]: Don't say I didn't warn you, Dean--Oh for fucks sake--Stop swallowing your tongue!

Samuel squats down, helping Dean up to a sitting position as he grumbles under his breath, rubbing his jaw.

Bobby [Laughing and walking into Kebaborama]: Boy, you hit the floor like a sack of shit!

A gunshot sounds out nearby. Tavi looks over her shoulder, then watches as Samuel helps Dean to his feet and guides him into Kebaborama. Karab, however, begins walking down the street.

Karab [Calmly]: I need a drink...

Tavi: Oh, sweety, don't hit the hard st--

Karab: I don't. I need some orange juice.

Karab sighs, walking past ReLoaded as Stephen walks out. The anthro is quickly flanked by Shane, who watches as Karab walks into the Lamb and Flag.

Shane [Sighing]: There's nothin' tae do 'round here.

Stephen: I like it. There's a lot of life to the place.

Shane [Scoffing]: It's a bunch'a feckin' black and tans and Yanks runnin' about.

Stephen: Really--

A jeep, daubed in beige with an open top, drives swiftly past them. Winston Tenpenny, the moustachioed English mercenary, is standing on the rear seats, clutching an M14 rifle with his left eye looking down the iron sights. His faithful servant still clad in a tuxedo, Jeeves, drives him towards the end of the street: On a sand dune roughly half a mile away are several Praying Mantis PMC's, jogging up and over the dune and away from the intermittent gunfire being dealt upon them by Tenpenny.

Tenpenny [Laughing]: BY JOVE, THE CUNTS DO RUN!!!

Jeeves [Tiredly]: Very good, sir.

Tenpenny aims down the M14 again, firing off another shot. A Praying Mantis soldier stumbles forward, collapsing over the dune and out of sight as Tenpenny lowers the rifle, wrinkling his nose and tapping the butt against Jeeves head.


Jeeves: As you wish, sir.

Shane: See?!

As the jeep starts to drive past the end of the street, it brakes suddenly as a beige van slowly reverses around the corner. Tenpenny lowers his rifle as Jeeves reverses, the van parking at the top of the street as Lynch climbs out of the drivers seat, turning around and walking into Beale Street.

Lynch [Looking at Tenpenny and Jeeves]: Out of the jeep, we're having a meeting.

Jeeves: Sir?

Tenpenny: You heard the chap!

Lynch walks down the street, standing outside of Kebaborama where Tavi and Kane are standing.

Tavi: Is....everything alright?

Lynch: Everything's fan-fuckin-tastic. Always is.

Tavi [Letting out a short, sharp laugh]: Yeah, right!

Lynch: Anywhere, where's Frenchie? Need to speak to him.

Fabien: MARCUS!!!

Seemingly on cue, the doors of The Oasis burst open and Fabien rushes out, wearing nothing but a blue Hawaiian shirt, denim shorts and a bright grin. Fabien sprints over to Lynch, lunging his arms around his waist and lifting him up, hugging him tightly.

Lynch [Wheezing]: A-A-Alright! Put me down!

Fabien sets Lynch down.

Fabien [Grinning]: So do we have a mission?!

Lynch: We certainly do.

Tenpenny: This should be good!

Lynch: We're going after a man named Krige.

Whilst the others look confused, Tenpenny's face suddenly grows grave, his boisterous demeanour slipping in an instant.

Tenpenny: Krige? William Krige?

Lynch: Yeah.

Stephen: Who's he?

Tenpenny [Quietly]: The Wraith of Table Mountain. One hundred and twenty two confirmed kills, probably many more unconfirmed. A man with a calm exterior that makes Simo Hayha look positively apoplectic: He is extremely dangerous. Nobody knows if he's alive or dead because nobody can confirm it at all. Nobody sets foot close enough to Table Mountain to do so.

Lynch: And we're fetching him.

Kane [Sarcastically]: Great.

Stephen: Lads, I really didn't come out here to die a horrendous death in South Africa.

Lynch [Laughing]: Do you really fucking think i'll let you die out there, to Krige of all people?

Tenpenny [Quietly]: You may not have a choice, knowing that man.

Kane: Well, this is bloody brilliant, then. We're going to be sniped by some South African wanker.

Lynch: You're not going to get sniped.

Tenpenny: Yes, Krige prefers to stab.

Lynch: Look, none of you cunts will die, alright? Now shut up, let's get into the van and drive to the airfield so we can get this over with.

Jeeves: Well--

Lynch [Impatiently]: Shut up, all of you, and move!

Kane, Stephen, Tenpenny and Jeeves trudge off. An excited Fabien claps his hands, rushing into The Oasis, presumably to fetch his gear. Lynch sighs, wiping his brow as Tavi clears her throat. Lynch turns his head, looking at her.

Tavi [Hesitantly]: What about Stephen?

Lynch [Laughing]: He'll be safe!

Tavi: ....But we were just getting acquainted...

Lynch: Don't you trust me, furball? If I can guide these retards to several victories on the field of battle, I think I can do it with a bunch of people who somewhat know what they're doing.

Tavi [Cautiously]: ....Alright BUT let me go with you.

Lynch [Sighing]: Fine, whatever. Pack your shit. Just be aware that Zemus is flying us out there, not Brick, so if you're suddenly and violently ejected from the plane it's considered the best case scenario.

Stephen: This place really does scare me.

Lynch [Walking towards the van]: Yeah, well, it scares me too.


The Black Sea, lying between a myriad of Eastern countries including Bulgaria, Russia, Georgia, Romania and Turkey, is one of the more important seas in the world. The connection it has with a myriad of countries, as well as how the sea links in with the Bosphorus Strait which leads out into the Mediterranean, makes it a mecca for both legal shipping and illegal smuggling. In the modern times of global war between PMC's, as such, the Black Sea is now a mecca for stolen goods, illegal arms and the occasional radioactive device to be smuggled between countries.

The importance of the sea also means that many vessels patrol the depths, both looking to protect their interests and to attack their enemies. One vessel, however, is in the Black Sea for neither of these reasons. In fact, one could say that they are in the Black Sea for no reason whatsoever. That vessel is the U-Boat commanded by the mercenaries of the Sinai, commanded by Robbie Steinhatten.

In the Captains Quarters, separated from the rest of the crew by a lone curtain, and in their bunks are Robbie and Dave. Both of them are simply laid there, huddled beneath khaki blankets as they gaze at the metal ceiling.

Robbie [Calmly]: Today is a good day.

Dave: Why?

Robbie: We survived the night. Every day is a good day if you survive the night.

Dave: Unless you wake up on a tin can underneath the sea.

Robbie [Rolling his eyes]: You insufferable little shit, be grateful for life!

Dave: I don't wanna!

Robbie [Enthusiastically]: YOU SHOULD, FOR WE ARE MEN!

Dave: Yes. Yes we are. On a tiny tin can under the sea. Dozens of us. It's so, so gay.

Robbie: Some are. Technically.

Dave and Robbie turn their heads and eye eachother somewhat cautiously.

Dave [Quietly]: Why are you looking at me like that?

Robbie [Shrugging]: Not a clue.........Well, I'm lonely.

Dave: Me too.

Robbie and Dave keep eyeing eachother.

Robbie: Well, we could--

Dave: Not a fucking chance.

The uneasiness of the situation is defused once the curtain is pushed aside and Heinrich, the unfortunate Kommodore with cropped sandy blonde hair and a thin, spindly frame, walks in. Heinrich looks around the Quarters, giving a small sigh.

Robbie [Looking up]: What is it, Heinrich?

Heinrich: Why do me and Benito have to sleep with the rest of the crew?

Robbie: Captain's Quarters should mean Captain's Quarters.

Heinrich: Then why is Dave in here?

Dave looks up, slowly exchanging another awkward, drawn-out look with Robbie.

Heinrich [Somewhat knowingly]: .....Ahhhhhhhhhhh! I see! Well then, forgive--

Robbie [Angrily, pointing at Heinrich]: If you're insinuating what I think you're insinuating, you had better shut the fuck up!

Heinrich: ....Alright, sirs.

Robbie: Look, what is it, Heinrich? Did you disturb us just to complain about sleeping with the rest of the peasants?

Heinrich: I figure that you'd be interested in our current co-ordinate--

Robbie [Sitting up anyway]: Not now. Now, I want a cup of coffee and a boiled egg and if the yolk isn't runny, I'll fucking slit your goddamn tongue.

Dave: Charming little fucker!

Heinrich: As you wish, then.

Heinrich snaps his heels and turns around, rushing out of the room as Robbie swings his legs out of bed, getting to his feet and revealing he's wearing nothing but a pair of white socks. Robbie whistles to himself, walking over to the trunk at the foot of his bed and squatting down, opening it and reaching in, pulling out a small bar of worn soap.

Dave: This place is beginning to fucking stink.

Robbie: Having showers or bathing facilities would mean less room for crew and supplies.

Dave: Great, so we have...that fucking soap.

Robbie [Coldly, looking over at Dave]: Look, you anus, be glad we have our own personal quarters. The rest of the crew have to sleep in the goddamn forward torpedo room and there's forty-two men on board with thirty-nine bunks available.

Robbie pulls off his socks, strolling outside of the curtain and whistling to himself as Dave simply lays there, listening quietly to the commotion outside.



Dave simply lays in his bunk, yawning and stretching out his arms. Robbie strolls back through the curtain, throwing the soap into the locker as he begins to pull out underwear and his captains uniform.

Dave: So, what's on the agenda today?

Robbie [Shrugging]: Shooting a torpedo at something. It's been too long since we blew something up.

Dave: We blew something up last night....That little merchant boat, wasn't it?

Robbie: Yeah, but i'm looking for something bigger. Better explosion.

Robbie pulls on his clothes, whistling to himself as Heinrich walks through the curtain, holding a steaming tin cup of coffee in his right hand and a boiled egg in the left.

Heinrich: Your breakfast, sir.

Dave: You have fucking odd eating habits.

Robbie [Coldly]: If I wanted the opinion of a dog, i'd go to the pound.

Dave [Rolling his eyes, sarcastically]: Gee, that hurt.

Dave climbs out of bed as Robbie, fully clothed, takes his breakfast from Heinrich and walks out of the quarters. A few minutes later, Robbie is climbing out  onto the deck, looking across at the deck gun. The hulking, bald and scarred figure of Leutnant zur See / Second Watch Officer Lindemaan is standing beside the gun. Next to him, examining the shells, is a small and wiry figure with a fresh and youthful face and shaggy black hair. Both men are wearing the waterproof coats and boots as expected of working on a U-boat. Robbie steps forward, clutching his egg and coffee as he takes a drink from his cup, looking around at his surroundings which is little more than sea unfolding for several miles around him.

Robbie [Taking a deep breath]: Tis a pleasant day!

Heinrich: No it's not, sir.

Robbie takes a bite out of the egg, looking at Heinrich.

Robbie: It is.

Heinrich: Not when you find out where we are.

Robbie: Why?

Heinrich: Well sir, judging by our co-ordinates, we're in the Black Sea.

Robbie slowly turns his head, looking at Heinrich as he swallows the egg.

Robbie [Coldly]: ...What?

Heinrich [Looking down at the chart in his hand]: The Black Sea, sir.

Robbie [In disbelief]: THE BLACK SEA?!

Heinrich: That's what I said.

Robbie: The Black Sea. Great. How the fuck did we go from patrolling the Mediterranean to being here?

Heinrich: The Bosphorus, sir.

Robbie: Shut up and give me some good news.

Heinrich: Well, sir, as you know this is the Black Sea, which is a hub for trading and smuggling, right?

Robbie: Yep.

Heinrich: There is no good news, sir, everything and everyone here wants to kill us and everyone else.

Robbie [Bluntly]: Fuck. Well, can't we blow a vessel out of the water and scour it?

Heinrich: Not unless you want to draw attention to the fact that we command a valuable U-boat.

Robbie [Angrily]: Is there any good news in regards to us being here, then?!

Heinrich: Well, sir, do you know how you talk about us being the only U-boat around?

Robbie [Sighing]: Yes?

Heinrich: Well, sir, that's also what I wanted to tell you...

Robbie: Fuck.

Heinrich: ...There's no need to be lonely anymore because we've found another U-boat. It opened up communications with us a few hours ago, but they only spoke Russian.

The deck falls silent. Robbie slowly removes his peaked cap, rubbing his brow with his forearm before replacing his cap.

Robbie: ........I see....Well...I don't see it...THAT'S THE FUCKING PROBLEM!!

Heinrich: What do we do, sir?

Robbie [Pointing to Lindemaan and the figure next to him]: LINDEMAAN, REINHARDT, PREPARE THE MINES! WE'LL BOMB THIS COMMIE FUCK OUT OF THE WATER!!

Heinrich: No time, sir.

Robbie [Angrily]: WHY?!

Heinrich [Pointing across the deck]: Well, sir, they appear to be surfacing.

A huge wake spreads out as the control tower of a U-boat begins to peer out of the waves. In mere seconds, the form of a U-boat, it's deck gun glistening in the sun, emerges from the depths, facing them.

Robbie: Well, shit.


In Northern England lies the city of Manchester. Mostly known for the football/soccer teams of Manchester United and Manchester City who, amongst football teams across the world, have been taking a prolonged break from football thanks to the tiny issue of global war, Manchester is a city with nothing to do. For a city known for its high levels of crime and violence, this is generally seen as a bad move since the city is little more than several dozen pockets of violence wrapped up in an urban shell. The entire city is divided into two gangs: The Citizens, who once supported Manchester City and whom are now known for wearing their typical City sky blue jerseys, and the Red Devils, who once supported Manchester United and who are now signified by wearing the old red and black Manchester United kit, from the jersey and shorts to the socks, alongside their habit of cutting off Manchester City badges from the jerseys of their fallen foes and gluing them to their rifles.

Jericho Kingston, a lifelong Manchester United fan, decides not to show his allegiance as he walks down Moss Lane, a warzone in of itself where the gunshots are simply punctuated by explosions nearby. With Emilie Dejanel by her side, who is wearing a long white dress and a black corset so as to display a neutral figure in the warzone, walks beside Jericho as he walks down the left-hand side of the street, looking at the various houses, many of which are little more than shards of bricks and concrete in large holes, the few which are standing are boarded up with thick metal over their windows and the doors replaced by huge, steel constructions which could probably withstand a tank shell at close range.

Jericho: Moss Street. Y'know, this is where I grew up.

Emilie [Sighing]: You poor thing..

Jericho: Hey! I like it here!.............................Slightly.

Six of the Red Devils gang members, wearing full Manchester United kit and making the distinct clicking sound of football boot studs off of tarmac as they move, rush past both of them, turning left around the corner at the end of the street. Gunshots explode nearby as four gang members run back around the corner, sprinting past them.

Emilie [Sarcastically]: I can see why.

Jericho [Laughing]: It's just the Red Devils, they're an alright bunch of lads. Besides, when I was born, there was.......little fighting. It was relatively peaceful, aside from matchdays and ESPECIALLY derbys when it got very rowdy.

Emilie: Derbys?

Jericho: You know, when both teams from the same city or even the same area face eachother in a match.

Emilie: Oh. Anyway, why are we here? I trust we're not here just to view the horrendous tribal lines that this city is now drawn down.

Jericho: I never got to say goodbye, y'know? Never got to give me home a proper farewell. When the army got rid of me, they just sent my arse packing to the Middle East.

Emilie: ....Why did they do that?

Jericho [Sighing]: Well, I knocked out one of my NCO's.

Emilie: Oh.

Jericho [Chuckling]: Yeah. In the middle of a drill. I mean, I was already..well, disobeying orders. Hated polishing my shoes, making myself neat and saluting and all that shit. So we were in a drill and I just lost my temper and...WHAM! Smacked a nearby NCO. Uppercutted him, it was beautiful.

Emilie [Sighing]: Oh, how thing's could have been different for you.

Jericho: Well, if you look at it in a way, if I didn't uppercut that cunt Smith, we wouldn't have gotten together.

Emilie [Smirking slightly]: Oh, hush.

Jericho stops, turning his head to the left. Along the row of terraced houses, Jericho is standing in front of a house whose door is boarded up. Jericho gazes up at the top floor, then at the door, gripping the planks.

Jericho: Here it is. Home.

Jericho pries the planks away, dropping them to the floor as several gunshots ring out. Jericho quickly pulls open the door, allowing Emilie in as he enters behind her, slamming the door shut behind him.

Unknown as to exactly what he was expecting, Jericho is met by a small hallway that is completely bare, the floor nothing but stone and the walls nothing more than wooden panels. To his right is an open doorway, leading into a large, barren room. Jericho turns left, pushing open a white-painted door and walking into a slightly smaller room. Just as empty as the other two, the only sign of life is a lone lightbulb hanging in the middle of the ceiling. Jericho flicks on the lightswitch, surprised to see that the light still flickers on.

Jericho [Walking into the room]: Well, this is my childhood home.

Emilie [Sighing]: Good grief, Jericho..

Jericho: What? I spent many happy years here.

Emilie: I...imagine it looked one time.

Jericho: Eh, it was alright.

Jericho turns to his left, walking towards and looking out of a small window.

Emilie [Looking around]: I suppose I should be pleased for you: My ancestral home is now little more than a tourist attraction which charges obscene prices for entry.

Jericho: ....So, where's your fortune?

Emilie: Don't worry: I know where it is.

Jericho [Calmly]: I hope so..

Emilie: It will take time to access it, dear. patient. My dear sister, prior to her sacrifice, made it known as to how to access the fortune. It's just that the Memeh-Porpingtons are keeping a very close eye on the grounds of my manor.

Jericho: The....grounds?

Emilie [Calmly]: Jericho, the fortune isn't money. Not....per se. It's a combination of paintings and pottery.

Jericho [Bluntly]: What?

Emilie: My sister knew a few sellers, so i'm hoping I can make a quick sale....once I access them.

Jericho: But when everybody talked about the vast Dejanel fortu--

Emilie: They are famous paintings and very beautiful pottery.

Jericho [Calmly]: Let's agree to NOT tell the others about this.

Emilie: Agreed.

Jericho simply keeps looking out of the window, gazing around the streets.

Jericho [Sighing]: Home, home, home..

Emilie: ....Where are your family?

Jericho: No idea. The guys back in the Middle East are pretty much the only family that I have.

Emilie: And does that not bother you?

Jericho [Calmly]: I mean, it's not that--DUCK!

Jericho and Emilie duck under the window as several gunshots fire out, one shattering the window.

Emilie [Calmly]: You were saying?

Jericho: Yeah, it does bother me, but at the same time....I mean....It doesn't. I don't know if they're alive or dead. I just....haven't given much thought to it.

Emilie: We could try and find them.

Jericho: Y'know what? Part of me doesn't want to know. Part of me--

Several more gunshots fire out, two hitting the window and spraying them with small particles of glass.

Emilie [Calmly]: Then can we please leave?

Jericho [Sighing]: Fine, we can go.

Emilie: We're in the middle of a warzone, dear, it won't be easy.

Jericho: It will be, the lads are too busy killing eachother to kill us.

Emilie [Rolling her eyes]: How comforting.

Jericho and Emilie rise to their feet as Jericho turns around, looking around the barren living room.

Jericho [Calmly]: Well, i'm ready to go home.

Emilie [Smiling slightly]: Good.

Walking out into the main hallway, Jericho sighs, taking one final look at his childhood home before flicking off the lights and walking outside with Emilie, slamming the door shut behind him. Several gunshots burst out in the night, two hitting the window beside the door as Jericho walks down the steps.

Jericho [Quietly]: I have done what needed to be done.

Emilie: And that is?

Jericho [Looking up at the house]: Paid one last visit to the old house to get it out of my mind.

Emilie: Let's go home.

Emilie smiles slightly, taking Jericho's hand as both of them walk up the street. Behind them, three of The Citizens gang members swiftly burst into Jericho's home, slamming the door shut behind them as a hiss sounds, followed by an RPG rocket shooting towards the door and exploding violently, a fiery explosion lighting up the night. Jericho looks over his shoulder, giving a small grin as a Red Devils gang member emerges from between two houses, raising the RPG-7 rocket launcher above his side and screaming unintelligibly in victory.

Jericho [Grinning]: Good lads.


Robbie, Heinrich, Lindemaan and Reinhardt watch as the U-Boat faces them menacingly. Robbie slowly narrows his eyes, watching ahead. The U-boat rocks slightly, the sound of catches being released as the U-boat releases several naval mines into the water.

Robbie: Good.

Lindemaan [Calmly]: Waiting for orders, sir.

Reinhardt: Nobody is manning their gun, sir, we could wipe them out before they even know what hit them.

Heinrich: Sir, if I may, they aren't firing at us, they have merely confronted us. Maybe we should communicate with them.

Robbie [Quietly]: Hmm. We have quite the conundrum on our hands, then.

Heinrich: Yes, we--

Robbie: ....OPEN FIRE!

Heinrich: Sir, can we just open communications with them? We don't have to obliterate everything we see.

Lindemaan [Cautiously]: It may be wise. We should try it out.

Robbie: Fine, get down into the fucking boat.

Robbie glares at the U-boat as Heinrich, Lindemaan and Reinhardt rush towards the hatch, opening it and climbing into the U-boat. Robbie himself turns around and climbs down the ladder, pulling the hatch shut as he does and locking it tightly. At the radio desk to the left sits Benito, who appears to be opening up communications.

Benito [Turning and looking at the descending Robbie]: Sir, we've opened up communications. Should be getting a reply soon.

Robbie walks over to the radio, snatching the handset from Benito.

Robbie [Impatiently]: Who are the cunts who are face us?!

Crazy Ivan's Voice [Laughing]: ROBBIE!!! YOU LITTLE BASTARD, HOW ARE YOU DOING?!


Dave: So, shall we ask him--

Robbie [Angrily]: OPEN FIRE!

Heinrich: I don't wanna die here!


Dave [Sighing]: Robbie, for once, just once, can we try and negotiate a peaceful settlement for this?

Robbie [Breathing deeply, calmly]: ........................Fine.....

Robbie breathes rhythmically, calming himself down as he walks towards the radio, picking up the handset. He lets out a deep, calm breathe.

Ivan's Voice: Vell, hello Robbie. Calmed down?


Ivan's Voice [Cackling]: THAT'S ME!!!

Robbie [Quickly]: Ivan, GET OUT OF THE FUCKING WAY!!

Ivan's Voice [Determined]: Russian's do not surrender that easily.


Ivan's Voice: Do it.


The receiver falls silent for a moment, punctuated only by quiet, Russian chatting.

Ivan's Voice: Vell, ve are doing it for fun.

Robbie: ...FUN?!

Ivan's Voice: Yes.

Robbie: You insane cunt!

Ivan's Voice: Yes.


Dave rushes over, wrenching the handset from Robbie's grasp.

Dave [Quickly]: Robbie's just kidding, Ivan.


Dave: Robbie, just calm down.

Robbie screams, grasping the wire of the handset and jolting to his feet, wrapping the wire around Dave's neck and moving behind him, wrenching back violently as he strangles him.

Heinrich [Quickly, looking at the crew]: Goddammit: Steiner, Ludwig, help!

Two hulking men, dressed in Kriegsmarine uniform, stomp forward from near one of the torpedo tubes. The balding figure with a thick, rust-coloured beard moves behind Robbie, locking his trunk-like arms around his waist and pulling him away from Dave as the second figure, with a shaven head and stubble, grips Dave and pulls him away from Robbie.


Heinrich: Robbie, will you stop?!

Robbie [Angrily]: NEVER!!!!!!!!

Dave: Look, let's just head back through the Bosphorus, into the Mediterranean and leave Ivan to it!

Robbie [Angrily]: NEVER!!

Heinrich: I think we may need to tie Robbie up.

Ivan's Voice: Uh, can ve say vhy ve are here?

Benito [Snatching the handset]: Go on.

Ivan's Voice: Several Russian nuclear submarines have been spotted in this area.

The interior of the U-boat falls silent.

Heinrich: Aw, scheisse.

Benito: Yeah, that's not good.

Ivan's Voice: That is vhy ve confronted you: Not to challenge you, but to warn you. They are heading this vay as ve speak.

Dave: I'm beginning to think we should leave.

Ivan's Voice: Ve stopped because ve thought that it would be bad manners to leave you open to being completely obliterated.

Dave: Yes, it's definitely time to leave.

Heinrich rushes over to a grey box on a nearby wall, grasping the handset.

Cackling, Excited Voice: CAN I OPEN FIRE?!

Heinrich: Calm yourself, Kapitänleutnant Rudolf, this is just an advanced notice for you to prepare to fire.


Heinrich places the handset back into the holder.

Dave: So glad we keep that guy far, far away from us.

Benito: Admiral, we have something on radar! It's....well, it's one thing.

Robbie: Fine, since you're all a bunch of pansies, fill the ballasts, we're fucking getting out of here!

Ivan's Voice [Audible from radio]: FILL BALLASTS!!

Robbie [Seizing the radio handset, angrily]: STOP COPYING ME, YOU RUSSKI BEAR-FUCKING ALCOHOLIC PIECE OF SHIT!!!!!

Steiner moves forward once more, taking Robbie's shoulders and pulling him away from the radio. Robbie drops the handset, breathing ferally as Lindemaan, manning the periscope, gasps in surprise.

Lindemaan: What the fuck?!

Robbie: What?!

Lindemaan [In shock]: There's some retard in a van, on a dinghy, floating about out there!!

Robbie [Sighing darkly, hanging his head]: Fuck.

Phil [Calling out, somehow audible]: GET'CHA BREW ON THE MO'E!!

Robbie [Sighing darkly]: What is he doing?

Lindemaan: Selling tea in the middle of the Atlantic. Apparently.

Robbie pushes Lindemaan aside, looking through the periscope: Sure enough, the "Brew on the Mo'e" wagon is bobbing about on the waves on a blue dinghy, with the bulldog in the driving seat of the van and Phil standing in the wagon itself, hands on the counter as he gazes out, grinning.


The wagon continues bobbing along as Phil leans out of the serving window, waving at the periscope.


Robbie pulls away from the periscope, turning to Dave who looks on, bewildered.

Robbie: No. Just no.

Benito: He's being driven by a dog.


Robbie: For fucks sake, there's Russian nuclear submarines scouring the Sea and that fucking imbecile is selling tea?!

Benito: Leave him!



Benito [Grabbing a nearby handset from a radio close by]: FILL BALLASTS!!!

After a few tense moments, the crew of the U-boat feel their stomachs churn, the U-boat having began to fill its ballasts as it begins to slowly descend beneath the waves. The U-boat rocks somewhat as large waves, from Ivan's U-boat moving below the waves, rock the hull.

Dave [Grasping a nearby wall]: Fucking hell!

Young Crewman [Grasping onto his bunk]: I AM STILL NOT USED TO THIS!!

Robbie [Coldly]: Make yourself useful, Luther, and check the toilets to make sure the food isn't moving about.

Heinrich: Why are we storing food in the toilets again?

Robbie: Because we barely have any fucking room anywhere else. I don't know if you've noticed, but this U-boat is hardly, well, spacious. When you consider how many torpedoes we're packing...

Luther rushes down the corridor as Robbie simply stands there, closing his eyes and taking a deep breathe as the U-boat fully evens out below the water.

Dave [Retching slightly]: Fuck this feeling!

Robbie [Calmly]: So, we are facing several Russian submarines. There is only one thing for it--

Heinrich: Well, sir, I have a plan.

Robbie: Of course you do, Heinrich, but right now we're facing several Russian submarines. MOVE FORWARD!! WE HEAD THROUGH THE BOSPHORUS!!

Heinrich: Sir--

Robbie [Angrily]: FORWARD!!

Heinrich [Calmly]: Sir, the Turks won't be pleased.

Robbie [Screaming]: FORRRRRWWWAAARRRRRRD!!!!!!!!!!

The U-boat jolts, beginning to jolt forward as it makes a valiant attempt to head for the Bosphorus Straits.

Benito: Admiral, the other U-boat is beside us!

Robbie: Ignore it!

The radio crackles once more. Dave rushes over as Steiner grips Robbie's shoulders firmly, stopping him from moving.

Dave [Taking the handset]: What now?!

Ivan's Voice: Vell, friends, ve have company and ve think it would be...preferable...if ve left together.

Dave: Yeah, sure, whatever, just don't fucking torpedo us!

A huge explosions rocks the rear of the U-boat, causing it to shake slightly.

Lindemaan [Checking the periscope, laughing]: Those little red fools just ran one of their submarines into one of our mines!

Robbie: Let us flee, men, we shall make it to the Suez yet!

Robbie clasps his hands behind his back, stepping away from Steiner and scanning the torpedo crew as the U-boats speed forward towards the Bosphorus Straits..