Saga III Chapter VII - Mexican Mayhem

The scene opens in Tijuana, Mexico. At a taco stand, sitting on the side of a road in the baking Tijuana street, sits “Big Bad” Bobby Jameson, the lone English mechanic of the Chop Shop in Walker Street. The hulking, bald form of Bobby, complete with his twirled black moustache, stands out like a sore thumb in the Tijuana streets, a fact not helped by his chosen attire of a red Hawaiian shirt with the top two buttons undone, a pair of jean shorts and a pair of tan Doc Marten steel-toe boots. Bobby keeps glancing over his shoulder on occasion, looking at a red Lamborghini and, specifically, a plain wooden door behind it leading into a seedy bar. Bobby looks down at his tripa taco de cazo and taking a huge bite out of it.

Bobby [Smirking]: That’s good..

Bobby glances over his shoulder, across the street, watching as a young man with slicked-back hair, clad in a white suit with a pink shirt, walks out of the bar, clutching a brown leather suitcase.

Bobby [Quietly]: I’ve got you now, fucker..

Bobby watches the figure, but is quickly distracted by a huge, hulking Mexican making his way down the street to his right. Marcos Enrigue, known as “Stoofer” after he murdered a Canadian and stuffed his corpse, walks down the street. Wearing a white tanktop, jeans and black boots, the almost seven-foot tall mastodon cuts an extremely imposing presence on the street around him, even more so than Bobby does. Bobby turns his head, looking down the street and watching as Marcos walks down the street, having already noticed Bobby’s towering form. Bobby simply turns back to his taco, taking a bite as Marcos sits on a wooden stool to his right.

Bobby: Hey, Stoofer.

Marcos: Hello, Bobby. What brings you here?

Bobby: Shit, mate. A lot of shit.

Marcos: Like?

Bobby: Going to make some cunts pay. You?

Marcos: Same. That and I’m visiting family.

Bobby [Smirking]: I’m thinking there might be a coincidence in here somewhere.

Marcos: Why?

Bobby: Well, who are you looking to hunt down?

Marcos [Quietly]: A little Texan-born gringo by the name of Leon Valdez.

Bobby: Bingo! We have a coincidence!

Marcos [Laughing]: Shit, you a vigilante too?

Bobby: Nope. Drug Enforcement Agency.

Marcos: Former DEA? Goddamn.

Bobby: Yep, a member of the only Agency in the world that waged a war against an inanimate object and lost.

Marcos: Such is life for the Americans.

Bobby: Not our finest moment.

Marcos: So, what’s your story?

Bobby: It’s bloody long.

Marcos: We have all the time in the world.

Bobby [Calmly]: I was a top member of the DEA, me. Ten arrests, took down the top ten drug runners from Mexico. Got called ‘Big Bad Bobby’ because I turned to the gun rather than handcuffs. Stopped them running coke into Texas, made them bow and beg. I…got my badge taken away after a shoot-out in Tijuana with MS-Thirteen. Killed twenty, but a poor little kid who was playing soccer ran through and got caught in the crossfire. Took a bullet [points to his face] right above the eye. Now he has to be fed through a straw and is wearing diapers even though he’s fifteen.

A small silence falls over both men.

Marcos: That’s not true, is it? I mean, you’re not even American: You’ve got a British accent.

Bobby [Laughing]: Nah! I was never even a member of the DEA.

Marcos: So why are you hunting Valdez?

Bobby: Ah, me stupid cunt of a brother got caught smuggling heroin for him across the Mexican-American border. Stupid cunt’s rotting in jail and I just want to put Valdez away.

Marcos: Family redemption, eh?

Bobby: My brother’s a right stupid cunt, I’m doing it for myself, not him.

Marcos: Well, I guess we have an enemy in common. Want to team up?

Bobby: May as well, mate.

Bobby looks over his shoulder, watching as Valdez flicks his cigarillo to the ground, climbing into his Lamborghini and firing up the engine.

Bobby: Valdez is on the move: We need to tail him.

Marcos: Why?

Bobby: It's alright just killing Valdez, mate, but these cartels don't just die when the top dog is shot. If we can follow him, maybe get some extra information on him, we might be able to take out two or three birds with one stone.

Marcos: ....And how do you know this?

Bobby: He's carrying a suitcase. He doesn't have a fedora or a neckbeard which means he isn't some basement dweller trying to look cool, and he's a young, good-looking guy linked to a drugs cartel. I bet that suitcase doesn't have his lunch in it.

Marcos: Good point. So, we follow him?

Bobby: Nah, he’s a millennial.

Bobby holds up his smartphone, revealing the Twitter feed of Valdez, complete with location tags attached to selfies, the most recent of which appears to be him squatting beside several tightly-bound black bags.

Marcos: Sweet…So, what now?

Bobby: Fancy grabbing a few churros?

Marcos: I’m in!

Marcos and Bobby rise from the bench, walking down the street as Valdez’s Lamborghini speeds away. Bobby's phone whistles once more and he quickly grasps it, reading a tweet form Valdez which says "headin 2 guadalajara 2 meet with hombres!"

Bobby: Oh. Fuck.

Marcos: What?

Bobby [Darkly]: He's heading to Guadalajara.

Marcos: That's almost an entire day's drive away from here!

Bobby: Looks like we're doing it like the movies!

Marcos: PLEASE tell me you have a good car!

Bobby jogs down the street, followed by Marcos: Parked close by is a red Mini Cooper which Bobby unlocks, cramming his huge frame behind the steering wheel as he climbs in. Marcos simply glares down at the Mini, sighing loudly.

Bobby [Grinning]: Hop in, mate!

Marcos [Darkly]: Yeah, i'm going to need to shoot something after this.

**THE BLACK SEA**

Back in the Black Sea, Robbie and Dave’s U-Boat has ran into trouble or, rather, is running away from trouble. The issue is that they are being pursued by Russian nuclear submarines, who appear less than pleased that Robbie is trespassing close to the Black Sea. To make matters worse, they are being followed, or rather accompanied, by “Crazy” Ivan Hellgenstrand who has somehow procured his very own U-boat. Both U-Boats are racing away from the submarines as fast as they can, heading for the Bosphorus Straits which will set them free into the open seas and, hopefully, allow them to fully shake off the Russian menace chasing them down. Within the U-Boat itself, Robbie is busy looking through the periscope at the several submarines chasing them.

Robbie [Calmly]: The Russki bastards just won’t yield.

Lindemaan, the Second Watch Officer, approaches Robbie, standing beside him.

Lindemaan: Sir, we have released all of the mines we had on board.

Robbie: And how many was that?

Lindemaan: Four, sir.

Robbie [Quietly]: We only had four mines?

Lindemaan: Well, we don’t have the room. Nor did we expect to run into Russian nuclear submarines.

Benito: He has a point.

Robbie [Coldly]: Shut up: I want solutions, not excuses!

Dave: They’re chasing us and they haven’t fired yet. Maybe they’re just trying to scare us off?

Heinrich: He has a point—

Robbie [Calmly]: Do not listen to my trained monkey, listen to me: I want a solution.

Dave: You can be a real cunt sometimes.

Robbie: Only because I hate your insolence.

Benito: We really need to consider our next move, because lying at the bottom of the Black Sea was not my plan when I woke up this morning.

Dave: I want to admit that it wasn’t mine either.

Lindemaan: Nor mine.

Ludwig: Certainly wasn’t mine.

Rudolf: Nein.

Steiner: Mine neither--

Robbie [Angrily]: ARE YOU CUNTS FINISHED?!

Dave: Now we are.

Robbie sighs, pulling himself away from the periscope and rubbing his temples.

Robbie [Quietly]: I just need some good news…just some…

The radio handset, now in the hands of Luther, crackles.

Luther: Come in. Come in.

Ivan’s Voice: I have seen the Bosphorus Straits!

Robbie [Angrily]: Move your fucking ass, Russki, we’re first!!

Ivan’s Voice: Not so fast, comrade! Ve are going first!

Robbie [Angrily]: DAMMIT, IVAN, THE RUSSKIS ARE BEARING ON US!!!

Ivan’s Voice [Laughing]: The race goes to the swift, comrade!

Dave: Cheeky bugger!

The U-Boat shakes somewhat, presumably as Ivan’s own U-Boat begins to power forth past them.  Robbie’s own U-Boat continues going forward, picking up speed as it does.

Robbie [Angrily]: CAN’T THIS U-BOAT GO ANY FASTER?!!!

Rudolf: Not really.

Heinrich walks over to the periscope, looking through it as Robbie begins to pace left and right impatiently.

Dave: Calm down, Rob.

Robbie [Through gritted teeth]: Shut. The fuck. Up. We need something to keep those Russki fucks at bay while we escape.

Dave: Suppose we could launch Benito at them.

Benito [Calmly]: Please don’t.

Robbie [Angrily]: SHUT UP! I’M THINKING!

Heinrich: Oh.....well. That’s interesting.

Robbie: What is it?!

Heinrich: Chechen separatists, sir.

Robbie: Chechens?!

Robbie shoves Heinrich out of the way, looking into the periscope: The Chechen fleet appears to be little more than ten rowing boats manned by two people each, one who is rowing and the other who is entirely covered with wires and semtex.

Robbie: Yep, it's the Chechens.

Benito: Sir, I'm getting radio chatter: The Russians are distracted!

Robbie: Full steam ahead, then!

Heinrich [Yelling]: FULL STEAM AHEAD!!

Robbie [Calmly]: Heinrich, go to the engine room and tell them, you fucking oaf.

Heinrich [Saluting]: Yes sir.

Robbie: Tell them that if this thing doesn’t go any faster, I will personally rip off their fucking testicles.

Heinrich: …….Yes sir.

Heinrich scuttles off down the corridor as Robbie stands there, watching through the periscope. The distance between them and the Russian submarines is growing as several small thuds are heard. Robbie watches as a bald, shirtless Russian sailor emerges from the water and grasps the front rowing boat, tipping it over. The Chechens scream as the Russian swims towards them, axe between teeth as he drags both men underwater, the blood turning a violent shade of red in his wake.

Robbie: Well then, i've just seen a shirtless Russian man butcher two Chechen separatists with an axe while underwater.

Dave: Ordinary day for us.

Robbie: Keep moving, the Bosphorus awaits!

The U-boat lurches forward as Robbie keeps his eyes glued to the periscope. The U-boat, moving once again, begins to pick up steam, finally moving closer to the Bosphorus.

Lindemaan: How are we doing?

Robbie: They’re…getting smaller, at least.

Dave [Pushing Robbie aside and glancing through the submarine]: Yep, we’ve gotta be passing through the Bosphorus now!

Robbie: Well, at least we're safe.

Dave: Nope. Want to know how I know that we’re passing through the Bosphorus?

Robbie [Sighing]: ……..Why?

Dave [Gazing through the periscope]: Because the Turkish are sending their submarines after us now.

Robbie [Angrily]: FOR FUCKS SAKE!!!!!

Dave: Well, this is great. Turks.

Benito: Angry Turks.

Dave: The worst kind of Turks.

Robbie [Scoffing]: Ha, it’s the Turks! What could their submarines be, a man in a fez on a bicycle underwater?

Dave: Nope, those are definite submarines.

Robbie shoves Dave out of the way, gazing through the periscope at six submarines, assuredly fully intact and not consisting of a fez-wearing gentleman riding a bicycle, now heading straight towards them. Turning the periscope, Robbie notices that Ivan’s submarine is nowhere to be seen, either having dove deeper or made a quick escape. This simply leaves Robbie now facing the six submarines by himself.

Robbie [Bluntly]: Fuck.

Dave: I say we open up communications and surrender.

Robbie [Angrily]: NO SURRENDER! WE FIGHT AND DIE TO THE LAST!

Rudolf: I really wish you would stop saying that.

**TABLE MOUNTAIN, SOUTH AFRICA**

South Africa. This magnificent country in the horn of Africa, the southernmost country on the continent, has had an exceptionally turbulent history and, in the age of the war economy, that history has not ceased to be written in blood.

With its own PMC, South Africa is very much an active participant in the global state of war. However, South Africa is more concerned with keeping their soldiers within the country to help to contain the rampant crime and chaos that awoke in the age of global conflict than they are fighting neighbouring African countries. Despite the heavy PMC presence, Lynch and his mercenaries, consisting of Tavi, Stephen, Tenpenny, Jeeves and the newly-found anthro Kane, have landed in South Africa relatively safely.

The mercenaries are currently at the foot of Table Mountain, one of the most iconic places within South Africa. This large mountain with a flat top, swamped with a staggering array of flora and fauna, is now home to one of the deadliest snipers in the world, and Lynch is leading a small force to capture him. Standing at the eastern foot of the mountain and currently heading through the Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens, the mercenaries begin their mission in earnest.

Lynch: Welcome to South Africa, lads and lass.

Tavi [Looking around]: Well...it looks nice enough.

Lynch: South Africa does, it's just too bad that it's basically a ton of makeup placed on the face of a rotting, maggot-riddled carcass. There's so much crime in this place that you can have things stolen before you even know that you own them.

Tavi: …Well, these gardens are nice.

Lynch: They’re probably full of crime and corruption.

Tavi [Sighing]: Lynch, are you ever positive?

Lynch: I certainly am.

Tavi: Well….go on, then.

Lynch: I’m positive that this place is filled with crime and corruption.

Stephen: It’s bloody hot.

Lynch: Of course it is: It’s Africa. It’s not bloody Ireland.

Stephen: And why are you making me wear this satchel?

Stephen looks down at his side, where a leather satchel hangs which is clearly weighed down with something.

Lynch: You'll find out why soon enough.

Stephen [Shuffling uncomfortably]: It's bloody uncomfortable..

Lynch: Quit whining, will you? You'll be fine..

Tenpenny [Calmly]: Fine? We'll be far from fine. It's dangerous if Krige is around..

Tavi: How will we know this guy when we see him, anyway?

Lynch: He’ll be the only guy at the top of the mountain. He’s unshaven, crude and generally hostile to all human life aside from his spotter. He’ll also shoot at us if he catches a glimpse of us.

Tavi: So, avoid bullets. Sounds……fun.

Lynch [Smirking]: Oh, you don’t fuckin’ know fun til you’ve met Krige.

Kane: He sounds like an interesting man, that’s for sure.

Jeeves [Calmly]: He’s a cunt.

Lynch suddenly stops the hike, as does everyone else, stopping and looking at the usually calm and terse Jeeves. Jeeves simply stands there, looking at the others.

Jeeves [Calmly]: Well, he is.

Tenpenny [Chuckling]: Well, Jeeves, it’s nice to see that you’ve found your voice!

Jeeves: Indeed, sir. And I must really, really put emphasis on the fact that Krige is a violent, sociopathic wanker whom I wouldn’t urinate on even if he was smothered with flames.

Lynch [Laughing]: Wow, Jeeves, so you do know the guy!

Jeeves [Gravely]: Indeed, sir. Krige was the one responsible for the Kingston Massacre in Jamaica.

Kane: The what?

Lynch: The Kingston Massacre. Several Jamaicans protest against their government starting their own PMC. Several soldiers try to defuse the situation: Krige shoots one for fun. Soldiers opened fire and blew around two hundred protestors away. He’s a fucking horrible man.

Kane [Laughing in disbelief]: And you want this guy to work for US?!

Lynch: Honestly, it’s a case of ‘better with us than against us’.

Tenpenny: I’ll say!

Tavi [Sighing and walking forward]: Let’s just get this done with: This humidity is making my fur feel like fucking dreadlocks.

Lynch [Walking forward]: Put your backs into it, then. And if you hear a gunshot, run for fucking cover because that means Krige has us in his sights.

As if on cue, a gunshot fires out, cracking a tree trunk directly next to Lynch’s head.

Stephen [Taken aback]: What was that?!

Lynch: That was a warning shot, mate. We should probably start moving very quickly, cause the next one will be a kill-shot.

Kane: How can he even see us in this garden?!

Lynch: You don’t want to know and if you want to live, you really ought to follow me.

Lynch begins to jog up the trail, swiftly followed by the others…

**GUADALAJARA, MEXICO

ONE DAY LATER**

In Guadalajara, Bobby and Marcos have successfully followed their target, one Leon Valdez, following a solid overnight drive to Guadalajara. The young drugs baron, leaving a trail of selfies in his work, is not even trying to hide where he is, presumably due to the fact that he has several hundred cartel members ready and willing to fight and die for him should his life ever be threatened.

Bobby, driving his red Mini Cooper which stands out as an odd vehicle in their surroundings, parks several metres away from Valdez’s Lamborghini, which is parked outside of a bar. Marcos, sitting beside him, watches the Lamborghini carefully.

Bobby [Yawning]: Fuck me, i'm knackered...

Marcos: I'm tired too.

Bobby: Yeah, well, I get cranky without me beauty sleep.

Marcos [Quietly]: Me too. I can't sleep in this tiny, shitty car.

Bobby: But it's English--

Marcos [Calmly]: Which means it's shit.

Bobby: Alright, good point. Maybe we ought to go in and just crack this fuckers skull, then. Save us another drive.

Marcos: Guess he’s in the bar?

Bobby: Yeah--

A whistle sounds and Bobby checks his phone.

Marcos: What was that?

Bobby: He’s posted another selfie……Yeah, he’s in the bar. Guess he must be meeting someone here.

Marcos: And if he isn’t?

Bobby: We’ll tail him some more.

Marcos: What now?

Bobby [Nodding towards the bar]: Drink?

Marcos: Really? We’re going to drink where the target is?

Bobby: Why not?

Marcos [Shrugging]: Let’s go, hombre.

Marcos and Bobby manage to pry their large frames from the Mini Cooper, slamming the doors shut behind them. Both men walk into the bar: A small, musty interior greets them, as well as several circular tables dotting the floor. A long bar stands against the wall opposite them, with several bottles dotted across wooden shelving.  The bar appears relatively empty aside from the barkeep, a few patrons and Valdez himself, who is sitting at the table closest to the door, eyes and thumbs firmly fixated on his iPhone. Bobby and Marcos walk over to the bar and the bartender turns around, wiping his fingers down a white apron.

Bartender: Si?

Marcos: El Tesoro Reposado.

Bobby: Same.

The bartender nods, turning to the shelves of drinks.

Marcos [Turning to Bobby]: So, while we wait, any news from your home?

Bobby [Shaking his head]: Nope. England is still allied with the French. London’s still a shithole. The English are still cunts.

Marcos [Chuckling]: Not fond of home, eh?

Bobby: There’s a reason I left at sixteen and headed to fucking Guadalajara of all places.

Marcos: How the hell did you even make it?

Bobby: Patience and a boat, mate. Patience and a boat.

Marcos: And that’s where you met Eligio?

Bobby: Aye, that’s where I met the little bugger.

The bartender sets down two glasses of a straw-coloured liquid. Marcos takes his glass, taking a small sip before setting it down.

Marcos [Chuckling]: Still need to properly thank you all for busting me out of jail all those months ago.

Bobby: Bloody hell, yeah, Eligio bust you out of the cell he was in following that commotion at the lowrider meet-up in Tijuana. He does manage to get into stereotypically wacky hijinks..

Marcos: That he does.

Bobby [Calmly]: That he does.

Marcos: So, you heard about Tennessee?

Bobby: Yeah. Brazilian territory now. Heard that the inhabitants of Smyrna, Memphis, Murfreesboro and Nashville attempted a rebellion but were rounded up and crucified for their insolence.

Marcos [Sighing darkly]: Really?

Bobby: Men, women and children, nailed to fucking crosses on the side of the Old Nashville Highway. It's insanity.

Marcos: The United States should've kept their eyes on Brazil. Still, they created the global climate of war and the dependency on PMC's....I have no sympathy for them.

Bobby: That’s a bit cold, mate.

Marcos: That’s life.

Marcos takes a drink of his tequila, smacking his lips slightly and looking at the glass.

Bobby [Looking at Marcos]: Before I came here, I never knew you could buy tequila that, y’know, you could sip. The stuff here makes Jose Cuervo taste like rancid asshole.

Marcos: Jose Cuervo’s good for getting drunk, that’s all…I suppose your equivalent would be…..uh…..

Bobby: Lambrini?

Marcos [Taken aback]: The fuck is Lambrini?

Bobby: Horrible cheap cider available for cheap. Tastes like fucking battery acid rather than cider.

Marcos [Laughing]: Then…yeah, sure.

Bobby [Nodding towards Valdez]: Cunt’s on the move.

Valdez has began walking towards the doors out of the bar. Bobby and Marcos rise from their stools, walking towards the doors themselves as Valdez leaves the bar. Marcos taps the side of his waistband instinctively as they walk out of the bar. They both watch as a black van slowly reverses into the alleyway to the left of the bar.

Bobby: Gotta see what’s in that van.  

Marcos and Bobby walk across the street towards a tall office building with a large set of black steel fire escape stairs winding up to the top floor. Bobby grasps a ladder, climbing up it and quickly followed by Marcos.

Marcos [Laughing]: We’re going to need a vacation after this, eh?

Bobby: You’re damn right, mate!

Bobby, having made it halfway up the fire escape, leans over the railing and watches carefully. Bobby’s view is mostly obscured, but he can clearly see the rear doors of the van open, followed by two PMC soldiers clad in solid black climbing out, carrying a khaki gun crate between them and walking around the side of the van. Marcos, on the level below him, leans forward and watches as the drivers door open.

Clad in a black suit with a red shirt, the top two unbuttons undone, with his trademark grin and a bullwhip coiled at his right hip, is the unmistakeable face of Eligio.

Marcos: For fucks sake, it's Eligio.

Bobby leans forward, watching carefully as Eligio climbs out of the van, slamming the door shut behind him.

Bobby: Cool, we get to kill our boss.

Marcos: American dream, eh?

Marcos and Bobby watch as Eligio and Valdez momentarily disappear from view, obscured by the black van and the alleyway. After a few moments, they watch as Eligio climbs into the drivers seat of the van, with Valdez climbing into the passengers seat. The PMC soldiers, still carrying the crate, quickly rush around the rear of the van, bundling inside and slamming the door shut behind them.

Marcos: What do you think that was about?

Bobby: I think Eligio’s arming Valdez.

Marcos: We have got to take him out, ese.

Bobby: This is…fucking unbelievable. I never thought Eligio would do something like that.

Marcos: We gotta go get him. Now.

Bobby: Yeah. Come on, we’ve got to tail those bastards.

Bobby and Marcos quickly begins to climb down from the roof as the van reverses out onto the road, quickly driving into the distance. A whistle sounds out and Bobby checks his phone: Valdez has since posted a selfie with Eligio to his Twitter, accompanied by a caption "on way 2 tijuana with hombre 4 sum stuff LOL #cartellife".

Bobby [Angrily]: OH GODDAMMIT!!

Marcos: What?

Bobby: He's going BACK to Tijuana!

Marcos [Angrily]: YOU MEAN THAT FOLLOWING HIM WAS BASICALLY A WASTE AND I HAVE TO SIT FOR ANOTHER TWENTY FOUR HOURS IN THAT TINY ENGLISH TIN CAN?!?!?

Bobby: Sorry mate. [Laughing] Guess they don't show this in the movies, eh?

Marcos [Angrily]: HIJO DE PUTA!!!!!!

Bobby: My thoughts exactly.

**THE AEGEAN SEA**

Back on the U-Boat, a determined Robbie is left fleeing an onslaught of Turkish submarines as he heads towards the Aegean Sea. Robbie’s plan, it appears, is to break through the Aegean Sea and head directly towards the Suez. However, the Turkish submarines remain in hot pursuit, refusing to relent and let the U-boat escape that easily.

Robbie: How are we doing?

Benito [Examining the radar]: Awfully close to Crete.

Robbie [Impatiently]: For fucks sake, go around it, then!

Dave: Why don’t you trust them? I trust them. I know they’ll go around it and won’t make land in lovely, sunny Heraklion.

Dave sighs loudly.

Luther: I do like the sound of--

Rudolf: Shut up.

Lindemaan: So, we’re heading for the Suez?

Robbie: Yes, we’re going home. I’ve had enough of travelling the seas…….for now. That and everybody seems intent on killing us.

Dave: You do have a habit of bringing that out in people.

Robbie [Coldly]: Fuck you.

Rudolf: That does beg the question as to what we’re going to do about the Turks. Are we just going to lead them home and risk having the might of the Turks on our doorstep?

Robbie [Laughing]: The mighty of the Turks?! The fucking TURKS?!?! What the fuck kind of might do the Turks have?!

Dave: Well, you could ask the Byzantines. Although the Ottoman Turks ended their empire. Oh, and you could ask the ANZAC’s who tried to invade Gallipoli in--

Robbie [Waving him off]: Alright, alright, I understand.

Benito: The Turks really are--

Robbie: Nobody asked for your input, Benito.

Heinrich: What do we do, then? Tell us.

Robbie: I’m thinking..

Luther [Looking through the periscope]: Think faster, they’re still on us.

The U-boat lurches slightly, indicating that it is turning. Having approached the island of Crete, one can only presume that the U-boat is turning around it, indicating that it is very much preparing to head to the Suez.

Dave: Don’t tell me: We’re heading AWAY from Crete!

Robbie [Angrily, grasping the radio handset]: FINE, I’LL TELL THE CUNTS TO MAKE LANDFALL!!

The titanic forms of Steiner and Ludwig step forward, arms folded. Robbie wraps the wire connecting the handset to the radio around his wrists, glaring at Dave.

Lindemaan: Robbie, please stop threatening the crew and come up with an idea of what we’re supposed to do about the Turks, keeping in mind that we have no naval mines.

Heinrich: We have plenty of food. We could send them some.

Dave: I’m sure the Turks wouldn’t be pleased with Dairylea Lunchables.

Robbie [Calmly]: They’re the only things that agree with my stomach when we’re at sea—Don’t fucking laugh, Steiner!

Robbie glares at Steiner, whose mouth twitches slightly as he tries to suppress laughter.

Steiner [Calmly]: Sorry boss.

Robbie [Sighing]: I’m surrounded by morons..

Dave: And Turks.

Robbie [Angrily]: LEAVE ME ALONE, YOU TURKISH BASTARDS!!!

Dave: They can’t hear you.

Benito: So, what CAN we do?

Lindemaan: Well, we have no naval mines to drop. We COULD engage them and torpedo them straight out of the water.

Benito: In which case they’d fucking slaughter us. So we can’t do that.

Dave: We need to open communications!

Robbie: NEVER! WE SHALL FIGHT AND DIE WITH THIS U-BOAT!!

Steiner: I really, REALLY wish you’d stop saying that.

Dave: So, what now?

Robbie [Determined]: FIRE EVERYTHING!!!

Benito: Are you se--

Robbie [Angrily]: I AM DEADLY SERIOUS! THAT IS THE ORDER: FIRE EVERYTHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!!!!!!!!!!

Lindemaan sighs, making the sign of the cross over his chest and rushing down the corridor as Robbie stands there, arms clasped behind his back…

**TABLE MOUNTAIN, SOUTH AFRICA**

Back  on Table Mountain, Lynch and his mercenaries aren’t in the best position. Squatting in thick undergrowth outside a clearing, Lynch and the others remain hidden from view. Fairly nearby, they can hear the shuffling of bodies, presumably Krige, but Lynch isn’t willing to move, even as cramp begins to set in on his legs.

Stephen: Can we move yet?

Lynch [Quietly]: Shut the fuck up.

Tavi [Quietly]: Will Krige really shoot us? He recognises you, right?

Lynch: He will. He fucking will…..Shoot us, that is.

Tavi: When can we move?

Lynch: When he’s lost interest….

Sharp Voice: Aye, and I haven’t lost fuckin’ interest, Yank. Any last words?

Lynch slowly raises his head, turning to the left and staring down the barrel of a VSS Sniper Rifle. The man wielding the sniper rifle could best be described as psychotically rugged, with a beard that is wild around his face and sharp blue eyes that appear devoid of any emotion. The figure is clad in a ghillie suit, but the figure’s face is pale and somewhat worn by age, appearing tired at best and downright exhausted at worst. The figures lips, however, are contorted in a sneer as he aims the rifle down at Lynch.

Lynch: Hello, Krige.

Krige [Calmly]: Fuck off, boykie. What are you doin' up here?!

Lynch: We're here to--

Krige: Actually, no, just fuck off, alright? I don't want any of your shit! The only reason I haven’t fuckin’ shot you yet is cause you saved my arse back in Bolivia from that weird lady with the tentacles, but you’re testin’ my fuckin’ patience.

Lynch [Calmly]: Krige, can we talk? Seriously, my knees are killing me here.

Krige: Alright, get up—REAL FUCKING SLOWLY! I don’t fuckin’ trust you!

Lynch slowly rises to his feet, followed by the others. Krige scans the figures, taking note of Tavi, Stephen and Kane. Much to Tavi’s surprise, Krige simply gives a small nod.

Lynch [Looking at Krige, then at Tavi, then at Krige again]: You don’t look surprised.

Krige: I almost shot one of these walking furry fuckin’ freaks once. But when you see something like that, you don’t shoot: You ask questions.

Tavi [Quickly]: Who was--

Krige [Aiming his rifle at Tavi, angrily]: YOU BEST STOP FUCKIN’ MOVING IF YOU WANT TO GET OFF OF THIS FUCKIN’ MOUNTAIN ALIVE!!!!!!!

Lynch [Quickly]: Tavi, Krige isn’t someone that you can casually talk to. He really is psychotic: That’s why we never even tried to bring him back when he wandered up this mountain and stayed.

Krige: Yeah, he’s right.

Lynch: Seriously, Tavi, put your curiosity to rest: I know your curious about your kind, but Krige is not the kind to ask.

Krige [Smirking]: Like I fuckin’ care anyway.

Tavi remains stoic, seething beneath her calm demeanour as Tenpenny looks at Jeeves. Krige spins his rifle and aims it at Tenpenny, who simply looks at it and gives a defiant smirk.

Tenpenny: Dear fellow, have you forgotten your old friend?

Krige slowly lowers his rifle, giving a sharp laugh that even causes Lynch to look shocked.

Krige [Grinning]: Sorry, Winnie, but you only talked to me through that fuckin’ biplane of yours, never saw you once.

Tenpenny: That’s how the best mercenaries operate, old chap!

Lynch: Alright, Krige, you have to tell me about--

Krige [Coldly]: I don’t have to tell you shit.

Lynch: ….Yeah, sorry, I forgot.

Krige: Look, what do you want?

Lynch looks at Stephen and nods. Stephen reaches into his satchel and pulls out gold bullion. Krige’s eyes widen, a grin spreading across his features.

Krige: That's fucking gold bullion! You slide that to me, you furry freak, or I'll blow your fucking teeth out!

Stephen gulps, slowly squatting down and grasping the bullion, pushing it. As expected, the bullion barely moves across the dirt, resulting in Stephen slowly and uneasily pushing it towards Krige.

Lynch [Sighing]: Just...give it to him.

Stephen looks up at Krige, gulping and picking up the bullion. He takes a hesitant step forward, holding the bullion towards Krige.

Krige [Looking over his shoulder]: Oi, Cloete, move!

From behind Krige emerges a figure completely obscured by a gillie suit, clutching a spotters scope in his left hand. The figure turns around, walking over and standing beside Krige.

Cloete: What?

Krige: Get the gold bullion off the little fucker.

Cloete strolls over, reaching out a hand completely covered by green mesh with leaves laced into it, taking the bullion from Stephen before walking back to Krige.

Krige: This here's Cloete, me spotter from Namibia. You try anything funny and he'll fucking stab you.

Lynch: We know, Krige. We fucking know.

Cloete hands the bullion to Krige, who takes it, weighing it in his hand.

Krige [Calmly]: Is this real?

Lynch: It sure is.

Krige: …..So what do you want?

Lynch: We want you to come with us to the Sinai. We need a guard dog while we're out on operations and we couldn't think of anyone more rabid than you.

Krige [Giving a twisted grin]: I see, and givin' me gold is supposed to tempt me away from a fucking nice place where I can kill everyone who shows their eyes, eh?

Lynch: You'd be in the Sinai Desert where PMC attacks are increasing daily. You’d have no shortage of people to kill.

Krige turns his head, looking at Cloete who remains stoic. The only sign that Cloete gives as to his own opinion of the offer is a small shrug of the shoulders.

Krige [Quietly]: Well, it’s better than fuckin’ staying here, eh?

Lynch: Of course it is.

Krige [Laughing, holding his hands out with the wrists together]: Alright, boykie, I'm with you!

Lynch: Uh, Krige, we ain't cuffing you.

Krige looks down at his hands before dropping them by his side.

Krige: Lead the way. OI! CLOETE! MOVE! WE'RE GOING TO THE MIDDLE EAST!

Cloete [In a quiet voice with a deep, bass-like rumble]: Understood.

Cloete follows Krige as Lynch sighs, turning around and walking down the trail..

**TIJUANA, MEXICO

ANOTHER DAY LATER**

Marcos and Bobby have since tracked Valdez and Eligio all the way back to Tijuana. In a large parking lot surrounded by a chainlink fence topped with razor wire, the black van has parked and Eligio and Valdez are now talking amongst themselves with several PMC soldiers standing guard near them. In an alleyway opposite, sitting beneath a fire escape and in the shadow of the buildings sandwiching them, sits the Mini Cooper. Both Bobby and Marcos watch as a second black van rolls into the parking lot.

Marcos [Darkly]: I will fucking kill them all with my bare hands.

Bobby: Well, it does look like we’ve got a fight on our hands.

Marcos: I hope you’ve come prepared. I really will kill them all with my bare hands.

Bobby [Laughing]: You know me, mate!

Bobby climbs out of the Mini Cooper and walks around to the rear of the car, followed by Marcos. Bobby opens the boot: Despite the small size of the Mini Cooper, Bobby has clearly tried to ram as many weapons into it as possible. Hung up on metal pegs are two AA-12 automatic shotguns and a PSG1 sniper rifle. On the floor of the boot is a Steyr AUG and a FAMAS, with a cardboard box nestled between them. To the left are several magazines, hastily stuffed into boot and to the right sit two pistols: A Glock and a Beretta M9.

Bobby: Ain’t much but it’s something.

Marcos: ….Y’know, if you had a bigger car, you could fit more weapons in the boot. You could also drive in fucking comfort.

Bobby: I like the Mini, though.

Marcos: Well, my back doesn’t. Anyway, what’s the plan?

Bobby: Kill ‘em all.

Marcos nods, folding his arms and looking into the trunk.

Marcos: That’s a good plan and there’s going to be plenty of them, so…..Dibs on the AA-Twelve.

Bobby: Automatic shotgun, eh? You’ve got good taste.

Marcos: I’ll take both. Have you felt the recoil on those things?....Well, the lack of recoil. Should make mincemeat of any PMC soldier.

Bobby: Yeah, well, I’m taking the PSG-One.

Marcos: Didn’t Sniper Wolf use that?

Bobby: I love the classics.

Marcos: Got the earplugs?

Bobby: Tons of ‘em.

Bobby reaches into a small cardboard box nestled between a Steyr AUG and a FAMAS, pulling out a set of silicon earplugs and handing them to Marcos.

Marcos: At least now I won’t go deaf.

Bobby: Aye, we won’t. Well, maybe a little bit. Wish we had our Academy-issued ear plugs.

Marcos: Well….these will do.

Bobby; Aye, they will.

Bobby stuffs the earplugs into his ears, reaching in and taking out the PSG1 sniper rifle and two magazines. Marcos takes both AA-12’s and two additional magazines, stuffing them into his pockets. Bobby closes the boot, looking at Marcos.

Bobby [Nodding up at the building]: I’m going to head to the roof. You make mincemeat out of those cunts and I’ll cover you.

Marcos [Grinning]: I love the sound of that.

Bobby: ‘Stoof’ them, aye?

Marcos: I’ll do more than that..

Bobby nods, beginning to climb up the fire escape once more as Marcos walks forward out of the alleyway and onto the sidewalk. Inside the parking lot, both vans have since parked and at least twelve PMC soldiers are now huddled around four khaki gun crates, with Eligio and Valdez talking amongst themselves. Marcos calmly strolls across a road and walks towards the parking lot, walking through a small gap in the chainlink fence. Bobby quickly takes his position on the roof, laying down and steadying himself as he aims through the scope, putting Valdez’s head firmly in sight of his scope.

Bobby [Quietly]: So, Marcos, what are you going to--

Without warning, Marcos swiftly opens fire with both shotguns towards the PMC’s. Valdez and Eligio quickly dart towards their own van, taking cover behind it as several soldiers are cut down without mercy from Marcos.

Bobby [Sighing]: Yep, should’ve guessed it.

Eligio: POLICIA!!! POLICIA!!!

Eligio ducks behind the van as Marcos calmly walks forward, firing his shotguns rapidly. Several PMC soldiers, trying to return fire, are cut down in almost an instant as the behemoth moves towards him.

PMC Soldier [Desperately]: We can’t even open fire!

Valdez [Angrily]: YOU HAVE FUCKING GUNS! USE THEM!

Marcos turns towards the van, firing the shotguns repeatedly at it and blowing several ragged holes into the metal. A PMC soldiers crawls under the van, aiming up at Marcos, but Bobby fires his PSG1 down at the soldier, scoring a headshot and blowing a hole straight through the soldiers face, causing the back of his head to almost explode into chunks of gore.

Bobby [Laughing]: I bloody love rifles!

Valdez [Angrily]: CAN SOMEBODY KILL THIS ASSHOLE!!! ELIGIO?!?!

Eligio: Shit, ese, this is way above my pay-grade!

Marcos spins around, firing on a PMC soldier and killing him instantly, before spinning around and looking at the van. Even with his earplugs in, he can hear the belching sound of an engine and the screech of tires behind him, causing him to turn around once more as another black van pulls up, this one commandeered by a heavily tattooed gang member. A shot rings out and Marcos watches as the windows of the van are splattered with gore, indicating that Bobby scored a perfect shot on the driver. Rather than wait, Marcos moves forward, continuously firing the shotguns at the side of the van. Three gang members scramble out of the rear, one of whom is cut down instantly by Bobby with a sniped shot to his torso.

Valdez [Angrily]: WHO ARE THESE FUCKERS?!?!

Eligio [Quickly]: HOW THE FUCK WOULD I KNOW?!?!

The remaining two gang members are quickly cut down in a hail of gunfire by Marcos, but as their bodies fall, the resounding clicks of an empty magazine sound out. Valdez sweeps around the van hearing this, but he quickly ducks behind once he sees the telltale glint of Bobby’s sniper scope on the building opposite. Marcos slowly begins to walk towards the van, knowing that Valdez and Eligio have nowhere to run. An engine roars violently and Bobby watches as a beige-coloured DNC-1, an armoured personnel carrier, slowly rolls into view, slowly pushing the chainlink fence of the parking lot over and parking a few feet away from the vans. The rear doors open and nine soldiers carrying HK G3 assault rifles pour out, aiming them at Marcos. Marcos slowly raises his arms, still wielding the shotguns as Valdez quickly sweeps out from behind the van, raising his arms as three soldiers quickly turn and aim their rifles at him. From the DNC-1 emerges another soldier, dressed somewhat more formally and, presumably, acting as a Colonel for the soldiers.

Eligio: Ejército Mexicano!

Eligio quickly moves out from behind the van, appearing behind Valdez with his own arms raised. Bobby quickly moves away from the roof, beginning his descent down from the building. The Colonel and several soldiers move forward, still aiming their G3 assault rifles at the four men. Eligio slowly lowers his arms, reaching towards his pocket, causing the soldiers to sweep their rifles around and point them directly at him.

Eligio [Calmly]: Stand down. Stand down.

The Colonel raises his right arm slightly and the soldiers remain still as Eligio reaches into his pocket, pulling out a folded ID. The Colonel moves forward, takes it and unfolds it, reading it before looking up at Eligio.

Colonel: ... Policía Federal Ministerial?

Eligio: Si.

Marcos: That’s who you want: Valdez!

Valdez [In disbelief, glaring at Eligio]: You fucking turncoat!!!!

Eligio [Laughing]: Yep! Double agent, baby! I'm a filthy snitch!

Marcos: Wow. And that doesn't bother you?

Eligio: No honor among thieves, ese.

Marcos: Hm. Good point.

Valdez [Angrily]: You shithead! I ought to--

The Colonel reaches into the holster at his left hip, pulling free a HK P7 and pointing it between Valdez’s eyes.

Colonel: Cover your ears.

Eligio looks around as the Colonel pulls the trigger. Valdez’s head snaps back and Eligio screams, covering his ears as Valdez stumbles backwards, the back of his head hanging open in gory tatters before he collapses onto the floor, splayed out.

Eligio [Angrily, shaking his head repeatedly]: MY FUCKING EARS ARE RINGING!! AT LEAST GIVE ME MORE THAN THREE SECONDS WARNING!!!

Colonel [Smirking]: Sorry.

Eligio [Loudly]: WHAT?!

Marcos [Looking down at Valdez]: Huh. Would’ve thought he’d go to prison.

Colonel: After the trouble we’ve had with him, why should we bother? He’d just have his men break him out of jail. Besides, we’re taking a zero tolerance approach to these people now. May as well shoot them and let the birds eat them rather than have them scuttling around like rats.

Marcos: …Well, I can’t complain.

Colonel: Go. We’ll clean this mess up.

Eligio [Taking his ID and laughing]: Another good day!

Marcos: Hang on: You’re not an agent in the PFM!

Eligio: Outsourcing, hombre! Mexican government wants to track these filthy cockroaches down, so I contact them, make a little deal with them and boom! They tie the noose around their necks when I drag them into the open!

Marcos: Do you have any more assignments?

Eligio: I’ve heard that *beep* and Melvin are in Mexico City, and I want to see the gang: Let’s pay ‘em a visit.

Marcos: Where’s Mustafa?

Eligio: He’ll be around somewhere. Let’s just drive and forget about that filthy desert in the Middle East!

Marcos: Bobby’s here. He can drive us.

Eligio and Marcos walk out of the dusty parking lot and towards the alleyway. In the driving seat of the Mini Cooper sits Bobby, waving at them.

Bobby [Leaning out of the window, looking at Eligio]: So, the cunt’s not a bad guy, then?

Marcos: Double agent.

Bobby [Laughing]: I should’ve known you’d do something like that.

Eligio [Quickly]: Shotgun!

Marcos: Goddammit.

Eligio climbs into the passengers seat and Marcos climbs into the rear, setting his shotguns down beside him and laying across the seats.

Bobby: Where to, lads?

Eligio: Mexico City, hombre.

Bobby: Well then, lads: Let’s have a mini adventure!

Eligio: If you make any more puns, I’ll have to whip you.

The Mini pulls out of the alleyway, turning left and driving off towards the sunset...

Marcos: Bobby, could you drive away from the sun? I'm being blinded here.

The Mini takes a sharp turn right at a crossroads up ahead, driving away. Shattering glass sounds as Marcos's legs hang out of the rear window.

Bobby [Angrily]: I have to get that repaired!

Marcos [Irritably]: GET A BIGGER CAR, ENGLISH!!!

The scene fades to black.