Friday, 8 April 2016

Saga III Chapter XI - Familia


The scene opens in Grenoble, France. Specifically, a grotty, small hotel room. The room is dark, the window covered by what appears to be little more than tarpaulin. Lying in a bed with moth-eaten covers, Lynch is snoring loudly. The wooden door creaks open and Antiope, clad in her fatigues, steps into the room, gently closing the door behind her.

Antiope [Quietly]: Lynch?

Lynch [Quietly, in his sleep]: …Mmm..Frank, fuck off….No…avoid the landmine….you dumbass….Ah man, I’m gonna need new fatigues…Fraaaankk…

Antiope [Quietly]: He even dreams about his men?..

Lynch [Snorting]: NO!!! NO!! STOP!!

Antiope steps forward, but Lynch flails his arms, quickly sitting up in bed and staring at Antiope who, appearing somewhat nervous, quickly steps backwards.

Antiope: Good morning, Lynch.

Lynch [Confused]: Antiope. Why are you here?

Antiope: I’ve been here a while, Marcus..

Lynch: Did we sleep together?

Antiope simply laughs.

Antiope: Not a chance in hell, Marcus!!

Lynch: Thank fuck.

Antiope: What? Got drunk, did we?

Lynch: VERY.

Antiope: I trust that it was an entertaining night?

Lynch: It certainly was!

Antiope: I see not one, not two, but three Romani hookers sleeping with you!

Lynch looks to his left and to his right: Three women, each one completely naked with their shirts and skirts discarded on the floor, are laying in bed with him.

Lynch: Yep.

Antiope: Get lonely, do we?

Lynch: You bet…..Alright, how do I get rid of these hookers? What language do they speak?

Antiope sighs, grasping the covers and wrenching them from the bed. The hookers scream, stumbling to their feet naked as Antiope glares at them, pointing towards the door. The hookers stumble forward, quickly dashing out of the door. Antiope spins around on her heels, giving the door a swift kick shut. Lynch sits up in bed, naked and looking at the door.

Lynch: Did..they just run outside naked? Is that even legal here? Man, the French really are barbar--

Antiope: Lynch..please take the mission seriously.

Lynch: We’ve been waiting over two months for further intel in regards to the bases in the Alps. I’m taking this about as seriously as those motherfuckers in Cairo are--

Antiope [Laughing in disbelief]: Intel doesn’t just fall from the sky, Lynch!—Oh, wait, I forgot, you’d just walk across the entire mountain range without rest, blowing random holes into rock and shooting everything you saw!

Lynch: Yeah, I would! But with the occasional rest!

Antiope: Lynch: Learn to do things efficiently. Maybe if you did, you wouldn’t have been sentenced to hold Reject Company’s hand.

Lynch: Does it not strike any of you..ANY OF YOU…that I actually LIKE leading Reject Company?

Antiope: Wh--

Lynch: Let me tell you: I have a fuckload more fun with those assholes than I could ever have you with stuck-up cunts!

Antiope [Laughing]: Well, it’s your funeral.

Lynch: At leas I’ll die laughing.

Antiope’s laugh cuts short as she sighs loudly, folding her arms and looking at Lynch.

Antiope: I hope that you’re focused on the mission.

Lynch: You know me--

Antiope: I do, which is why I’m asking.

Lynch: I’m fine and I am. Let’s go, shoot some scientists and stop some furry scum from wreaking havoc in France.

Antiope: Yes, don’t forget that.

Lynch: I mean, some hairy, furry bastards run amok in France over a millennia ago and you know what they became? Normans. And you just ask the English how that one worked out.

Antiope: My my, you know your history.

Lynch: Yeah, I do, which is why we can’t afford more brutal hairy bastards to run amok in France AGAIN. Otherwise they’ll be given some territory, name it…I dunno…Furryandy and then proceed to launch an invasion of England.

Antiope: But they’d have to cross…THE WALL.

Ominous music. Lynch reaches under the covers, grabbing his mobile phone and throwing it against the wall, watching as it smashed into tiny pieces.

Lynch: Well, as long as the Night’s Watch keeps……The Night’s Watch? That’s what they called them? Really?!

Antiope: That’s what they call themselves, Lynch. Their official name is The Keepers Of The Channel Wall, but they said it was too much of a mouthful so the mouth-breathers decided to take on a new name.

Lynch [Sighing and shaking his head]: Man, this world is fucked up..

Antiope: Get dressed and let’s go. We’re meeting up with Randolph.

Lynch: Sweet, another nutjob who gets paid too much. Let me just contain my excitement.

Antiope scowls as Lynch clambers out of bed, sighing loudly as he does..


The Lamb and Flag in Beale Street is, once again, bustling with activity. However, the activity appears to be relative as Dick stands behind his wooden bar, polishing the top as Keenan and James Wallace, sitting at a square table next to the window to the left of the double doors, play a game of checkers.

Keenan [Sighing quietly]: Seems too quiet here..

James [Looking over his shoulder at Dick]: Oi, Dick, when does this place pick up? Any girls with titties around?

Dick: Well…………the Dog and Handgun has them.

James: Oh. Is it open yet?

Dick: No, I tried knocking last night: Jon just shot at the door.

James: Like ran towards it?

Dick: No, he literally shot at it. Was lucky not to be standing too close or I’d be picking buckshot out of my guts.

Keenan: Why is that young man so violent?

Dick: He’s short. That means he has to compensate for it. And he does so by being incredibly angry and violent.


Dick [Calling out]: It’s just your imagination, Jon! Go home!

Jon’s Voice: I AM HOME!!!

Dick: No, go back to where you came from!!

Jon’s Voice [Angrily]: LEAVE MY MOTHER OUT OF THIS!!!

Dick: I’ll be right back.

Dick reaches under his bar, grabbing a sawn-off shotgun and twisting around, heading through a wooden door directly behind him, next to the shelves of liquor, slamming it shut behind him as his footsteps are heard descending down wooden steps. Suddenly, the doors fly open as Dean strolls in, grinning brightly as he opens his arms.


Samuel: Yes, it’s still here. Still covered in sand, too.

Karab: Hey, new people!

Karab looks at Keenan and James who simply look at the trio, remaining silent. Dean simply walks forward towards the bar.


Dick: Hey, Dean, have you seen the Hateful Eight?

Dean: I certainly have!

Dick: Then you should know that I’m here, below the floorboards, with a shotgun. Do you like those huevos of yours?

Dean: ….Dick, don’t shoot my balls. I’m just here for a drink.

Dick: Then give me a second. I think Jon’s hiding down here.

Jon’s Voice: I’m not!

Dick: You just gave yourself away, dumbass!!

Jon screams as two shots are fired. Dean looks down at the floor, listening to footsteps as Dick makes his way back up the stairs, re-appearing behind the bar and slamming the door shut behind him.
Dean: So, Dick, what’s it like knowing that the gang’s back?

Dick: Painful.

Dean: Surely you missed us?!

Dick: I missed you like a cancer survivor misses fucking chemotherapy.

Dean [Taken aback]: ….Well, touchĂ©.

Dick: Just order a drink, will you?

Dean [Quietly]: Dick, man to man: Why are you hostile?

Dick: ….Well, you see, I’m on my period--

Dean: Okay, now you’re just not being helpful.

Dick [Scowling]: Shut up.

Dean: You’re being soooooooo tsundere--

Dick sighs, reaching under the bar once more and grasping his sawn-off shotgun, pointing it directly at Dean’s head.

Dick: Alright, I admit: I could be friendlier, but now you’re using weeaboo terminology and that’s just fucking intolerable.

Dean [Raising his arms]: Alright, point taken! Can’t we just have our usual drinks?!

Dick: …..Alright. One orange juice for Karab, a gin and tonic for Samuel and a bottle of Bud for you.

Dean [Nodding]: Yes!

Dick sighs, placing his gun under the bar and walking over to a fridge with a clear door to the right of the wooden door, opening it and pulling out a bottle of Budweiser.

Karab: New fridge, eh?

Dick: Yeah. Try not to throw anyone through it.

Dick opens the bottle, handing it to Dean before turning back to the fridge, pulling out a small glass bottle of orange juice, opening it and handing it to Karab. Dean and Karab take their bottles to the nearest table behind them, sitting at it as Samuel stands at the bar, waiting.

Karab: Nothing ever changes, eh?

Dean: Well, that is how I like it.

Karab: But Dick could surely clean the tables free from sand, right?

Dean: Hey, I like it this way!

Dick: Stop whining. I’ve had better things to do than tend the bar.

James: Like?

Dick [Pointing at James]: Don’t you fucking start, old man.

Dean: Who are the old timers, anyway?

James: James Wallace. Father of Billy.

Karab: Oh shit!

Keenan: And I’m Sal’s grandfather. You can call me Mr. Memeh-Porpington.

Dick: Or Keenan.

Keenan: I’d rather you didn’t--

Dick: Well, I’d rather you didn’t spend all of your time here since you arrived, but yet you’re here.

Keenan: I would rather castrate myself than stay at my grandson’s mansion.

Dick: I’m sure I could do it for you!

Dick slides Samuel’s gin and tonic towards him. As Samuel walks towards the table, the doors fly open as Phil walks into the store, a leather leash tied around his waist which is attached to the collar of his dour-looking bulldog. Phil opens his arms, looking around.



Phil: It’s just me, you bloody walnut!

Dick: What is that thing?

Phil: It’s my pet, Winston, Born of Winstons! Who won’t be abandoned like Brick’s snake.

Samuel: I miss that snake.

Dean: It spoke in ebonics. Fucking ebonics. Frankly, being left in the Amazon was the best fate for it, otherwise I’d have stomped on it.

Dick: Does this thing talk?

Phil: Nah, it just farts, snores, shits and eats. And please, don’t make the obvious joke.

Dean: Joke? Hell, I’d like to live like that.

Phil: That’s the joke I was talking about.

Dean blows a raspberry. Phil walks over to the bar, slapping his hands on it.

Dick: So, more of you are back.

Phil: Sure are, Dick! Now, I’ll have the usual!

Dick: One pint of spit coming up.

Phil: C’mon Dick, why you gotta be like that?!

Dick: Because you order a different drink every fucking time you’re here!!!!

Phil: Alright, alright!...I’ll have a gin and tonic.

Dick: That’s better.

Phil turns around, leaning back against the bar and looking at Dean’s table.

Phil: Sup, fellas?

Dean: Sup.

Samuel: Hey.

The bulldog sits between Phil’s feet, snorting loudly and shaking its jowls.

Phil [Looking down]: I think he likes you.

Samuel: So, now that you’re back, are you going to stop this Brew On The Mo’e crap?

Phil: Of course………………when we’re on missions. Personally, I enjoy making a small amount of money whilst pissing you lot off. It’s cathartic.

The doors quickly fly open as several men stroll in, wearing their distinctive U-boat uniforms. Led by Dave; Benito, Lindemaan, Heinrich and Rudolf, the most senior members of the outdated vessels, follow him into the pub.

Dave [Waving]: Dicky, we’ll have bottles of your finest German beer. God help you if it’s Heineken.

Dick: Why are you all coming into the Lamb and Flag?! What about The Oasis?! What about the Dog and Handgun?!

Phil: Jon insists that it’s closed and I don’t want to get on the wrong side of that psychotic midget.

Dave: We like it here, Dick! Just be happy that we pay you a lot of money for watered-down piss!


Phil [Taking a swig from his glass]: Could’ve fooled me.

Dick: Right, that’s it: CLEAR OUT! ALL OF YOU!

A loud groan goes up from the bargoers.

Samuel: You can’t be serious?!

Benito: We only just settled in!!

Dick: I don’t care! When Lynch returns, THEN you can come back!

Phil: Where is he anyway?

Dean: France.

Phil: Poor bastard. Having to deal with the French.

Dick: Actually, he’s fighting off anthropomorphic super soldiers.

Phil: Ah, well, that’s good!

Heinrich: Can we get a drink?

Dick: …….Fine.

Phil walks away from the bar, carrying a glass of gin and tonic as he sits at Dean’s table, the men of the U-boat walking towards the bar. As they do, the doors fly open once more as the titanic form of Maurice waddles into view, with Moe quickly following behind him, both men wheeling luggage behind them.

Maurice: WE’RE HOME!!

Dick [Breathing a sigh of relief]: Finally, two people I don’t want to shoot!

Moe: The guys giving you stress, eh?

Dick: Yes…

Phil: Just by existing, I guess.

The bulldog snorts loudly, sitting at Phil’s feet.

Moe: So, does that talk?

Phil: No. No special pet here: Just a lazy, useless mascot for the Company.

Maurice: Didn’t Frank fill that role?

Karab: He isn’t exactly a good mascot.

Samuel: I’ll agree to that--

Dick: GET OUT!!!

Benito: But we just got here!

Dick sighs, kneeling behind the bar.

Phil [Raising his glass]: Well, lads, here’s to us. We’re all coming back.

Dean: Is that something that is worthy of raising your glass for? Sounds like something to regret.

Dick slowly rises to his feet, now clutching a hose that leads under the bars, the bronze nozzle pointed directly at Dean’s table.

Samuel [Rolling his eyes]: Oh, boy, it’s a hose. Big deal.

Dick: Yes, it’s the hose, but I’ve filled it with rancid piss from the urinals.

Phil quickly finishes his gin and tonic, pushing his chair away from the table and standing up.

Dean: Aw, come on, he’s bluffing.

Phil: I know Dick: He’s not bluffing. He’s a fucking miserable and insane bastard.

Dick: Good point.

Dick, Samuel and Karab finish their drinks, getting to their feet and following Phil as he leaves the pub. Keenan and James follow, leaving only Dave and his fellow U-boat crew members.

Dave: You’re bluffing.

Dick: Try me.

Dick turns the valve on the nozzle as a torrent of golden liquid bursts forth, smelling like a mixture of a burst sewer and a male public toilet….


In Cairo, amidst the bustle of the market stalls, That Other Random Guy is walking down the middle of a crowded street, hand clasped firmly around the hand of his wife, Melissa, who is wearing a full niqab. That Other Random Guy, less inconspicuous, instead dons an England football shirt and a pair of cargo shorts. He stops, sniffing the air.

That Other Random Guy: Goddamn, do you smell that?

Melissa: Hm?

That Other Random Guy: Smells like a bloody burst sewer.

Melissa: Is it Cairo itself?

That Other Random Guy [Sniffing the air]: Nah, that’s coming downwind.

Melissa: And you can smell that?!

That Other Random Guy: I’m a man of many talents! Many useless talents, but many talents.

Melissa [Looking around]: So busy around here..

That Other Random Guy: Well, Melissa, what do you think of Cairo? Aside from busy.

Melissa: It’s fine. I wish people would stop trying to sell me stuff, though.

That Other Random Guy: That’s the entire charm of Cairo, though! Could be worse: They could be trying to shoot you.

Melissa: Mmhm.

That Other Random Guy: I mean, I get that all the time.

Melissa: Not particularly shocking.

That Other Random Guy and Melissa continue walking up the busy street. As they do, a familiar figure with a slick, shaven head and a gaudy turquoise suit appears, squeezing through the crowd with his right hand visibly clasping a wad of notes: Dion. The owner of The Oasis, the newest club on Beale Street.

Dion: *BEEP*!!

That Other Random Guy: Oh..God.

Dion: Why are you here?!?!

That Other Random Guy: Vacation with wife. Why are you here?

Dion: Finding strippers for my new club!

Melissa [Sighing, sarcastically]: Lovely.

Dion: Hey, you--

Melissa [Calmly]: If you suggest what I think you want to suggest, I will castrate you with my bare fucking hands.

That Other Random Guy: She’s tough, mate. You don’t want to get on her bad side.

Dion: Hey, alright! Alright!

Dion walks backwards, disappearing into the crowd.

Melissa: What a crude, crude man.

That Other Random Guy: And he’s just a newbie to Beale Street!

Melissa [Sighing]: Indeed.

That Other Random Guy: The guys’ll corrupt him even further.

Melissa: Well, they haven’t corrupted you..

That Other Random Guy: I don’t hang around them enough to be corrupted. I just smile and nod.

That Other Random Guy walk out of the other end of the packed street, emerging in a small square, in the middle of which is a fountain flanked by several benches. That Other Random Guy sits on a bench and he is joined by Melissa who lays her head on his shoulder as they simply choose to watch the chaos of Cairo unfold before them.

Melissa: I guess it’s kinda nice..

That Other Random Guy: It is, isn’t it?

Melissa: I like how multi-cultural it’s all become.

That Other Random Guy: Yep, just tolerate local religious laws and it’s all fine. Kinda helps that they’re neutral to the whole global conflict thing.

Melissa: A shame that the UK isn’t..

That Other Random Guy: It’s not a global conflict unless the UK stirs shit somehow. It’s an Empire thing.

Melissa: Well, at least Cairo’s…slightly more peaceful.

That Other Random Guy: Yeah..

Though they enjoy watching the hustle and bustle of the Cairo crowds, their peace is cut short as, walking past them, are Eligio, Marcos, Mustafa, Bobby and Johan, with a hog-tied Melvin over the shoulder of Marcos. Nobody notices this, and nobody cares. Johan glances over at That Other Random Guy.

Johan: Hey, *Beep*.

The group stops. That Other Random Guy sighs loudly, looking over at them.

That Other Random Guy: Oh. Hi, guys.

Eligio: Hey, *Beep*, nice to see you here!

That Other Random Guy: How come you guys are here?

Mustafa: Flying back from Mexico. Don’t ask.

That Other Random Guy: I just did.

Eligio: Shut up.

That Other Random Guy: What’s with Melvin?

Eligio [Calmly]: He was being his usual self: Annoying.

That Other Random Guy: Oh.

Eligio: So we’re taking him home.

That Other Random Guy: I see.

Eligio: Well, we’ll see you at the garage.

That Other Random Guy: Bye.

Eligio, Mustafa, Johan, Bobby, Marcos and Melvin disappear into the crowd. Melissa steps forward, standing beside That Other Random Guy.

Melissa: That was somewhat cold.

That Other Random Guy: Well, I prefer being with you.

Melissa [Sighing]: But you know I have to go home after this..

That Other Random Guy: Why?!

Melissa: You’re fighting a war: I’m not.

That Other Random Guy: But can’t we just stay together?!

Melissa: I’m sorry, *Beep*..

That Other Random Guy: ….Let’s leave together.

Melissa: What?!

That Other Random Guy: Seriously! Let’s elope somewhere where Mother and the Patriots cannot find us!

Melissa [Laughing]: Deep underground? *Beep*, we both know that you belong here.

That Other Random Guy [Sighing]: Please don’t do this to me.

Melissa [Sighing]: *Beep*….We need the money..

That Other Random Guy: Still wanting to retire to Dubai, eh?

Melissa: Yeah…

That Other Random Guy: How much do you think we get paid?!

Melissa: Enough. It’s not like you have major living expenses.

That Other Random Guy [Shrugging]: Good point.

Melissa [Quietly, tracing her index finger down his chest]: But let’s enjoy what little fun we have left….

That Other Random Guy: We’ll have a great time, or my name isn’t Joseph Stone!!

That Other Random Guy or, rather, Joseph, suddenly goes silent, slowly raising his head to the sky.


The scene fades to black.

Joseph’s Voice [Angrily]: OH, HA HA! FUCK YOU!!

Melissa’s Voice: Shut the fuck up and kiss me, Joe.

Joseph’s Voice: With pleasure, ma’am.


Over on the other side of the world in Tokyo, Japan, Sal awakens in a hotel room, laid on a small wooden table, sitting just inches above the floor. The traditional tatami mats are strewn across the room, with one other his face, fluttering as he snores loudly. The walls of the room are surprisingly intact, with a sliding door gently being pushed open to reveal a haggard looking Vince, whose rust-coloured beard appears even more unkempt with grains of rice stuck to the various hairs. Wearing nothing but a pair of blue boxer shorts, his gut hanging loosely over the band, he stumbles forward past an overturned couch which Billy is laid on top of, two bento boxes stacked atop his face.

Vince [Quietly]: Sal, wake the fuck up.

Sal grunts loudly, slowly sitting up and tossing the tatami mat aside. He smacks his lips, narrowing his eyes through blurred vision to see Vince. His eyes open as he stumbles off of the table, hugging Vince tightly.

Sal: Vinnie!.....You’re alive!...

Vince: Yes. Yes I am.

Billy stirs slightly, sitting up and causing the bento boxes to spill onto the floor.

Billy [Groaning]: …Did we find ’im?...

Vince: Uh, yes, I’m right here.

Billy [Smiling]: Eyyyy…Vinnie…how did we meet up?

Vince: Normally, I’d subject you to a lengthy explanation regarding how we met up. Instead, I will show you this clip on my iPhone.

Vince squats beside Billy, holding out his iPhone and showing him a video recording.


The camera shakes slightly, showing a back-alley in Tokyo which Vince stumbles down.

Vince’s Voice [Quiet]: So, I’m getting this weird feeling I’m being followed or something. Just gonna record for a few minutes, see if I’m right. Then the police can use this as evidence….

Vince sighs audibly, the phone shaking as Vince walks out into a large street. He turns left, the camera briefly focusing on the skirts of two Japanese schoolgirls. Vince quickly swipes the camera to the right, focusing on a third plaid skirt.

Vince [Chuckling]: Man, the schoolgirls here are so kawaii—Look, this one has such smooth legs.

Rough Scottish Voice: THANKS MATE!!

Vince’s Voice: OH FUCK!!

The phone quickly moves up, revealing Billy’s face. Wearing a kilt and a white dress shirt, Billy begins to sprint towards Vince.

Billy [With determination in his eyes]: FOUND YEH, YEH WEE HAIRY BASTARD!!!

Vince screams and the phone hits the floor. The feed occasionally catches glimpses of hair, skin and plaid, indicating that Vince was tackled to the floor quite quickly. The final shot of the video is the phone pointing in the air as Sal walks forward, his crushed velvet pants all that are visible as he stands over Vince.

Sal: See? I told you he’d be spying on Japanese schoolgirls!


Billy [Laughing]: You dirty fucker!

Vince: I wasn’t!!

Sal: You were!

Vince: I wasn’t!!!!

The room falls silent.

Sal: You we--

Vince grabs a blow-up doll dressed like Sailor Moon, throwing it into his face. Sal laughs, grabbing it and looking at it.

Vince: Well, guys, we better get going to Cairo. It was great while it lasted, though.

Sal [Looking at the Sailor Moon doll]: What the fuck did we do?

Vince: What every weeaboo in Japan does: Go completely insane.

Sal: Looks like we got drunk with salarymen…

Vince: We did.

Vince grasps the overturned couch, pulling it back onto its feet and revealing two Japanese salarymen, still wearing their suits with red ties tied around their forehead, sleeping on top of eachother.

Sal: Cool.

Billy: One hell of a night, lads, but now it’s time to go home in a peaceful manner, thus indicating we got up to no shenanigans last night.

Vince [Sighing]: Billy…

Billy stumbles into the bathroom through the door which Vince entered from, looking into a large tub which appears to be filled half-full with champagne.

Billy [Grinning]: Sweeeet!

Billy climbs into tub, sitting down and cupping his hands, drinking repeated mouthfuls of the mixture as Sal walks into the bathroom, standing beside a porcelain sink and brushing his teeth.

Sal: Billy, you don’t ever change.

Billy: How did this happen?!

Vince sighs, entering the room with his iPhone held out once more..


The shaky video feed shows Billy dashing away from a store with several bottles of champagne in his arms, a pair of white panties strewn across his face in a haphazard attempt to disguise his identity.


Vince’s Voice [Shakily]: YOU’LL ANGER THE FUCKING YAKUZA!!

Billy [Gasping]: Awwwww sheeit, the Jappy Po-Po!!! RUN!!

Sal dives out of a window the left of the store’s door with armfuls of champagne bottles, a pair of black fishnet stockings over his head as he sprints past Billy.



Billy, now flossing his teeth in front of the sink, just laughs.

Billy: Sweet.


Billy shrugs, walking out of the bathroom and wrapping a white cotton towel around his waist.

Sal [Buttoning up his black shirt]: Yakuza shmakuza! They haven’t faced the Scots!

Vince [Angrily]: They’re fucking dangerous!

Billy walks over to the door, opening it and revealing a samurai sword jammed directly into the wood. A Yakuza member, wearing a brilliant white suit with his hair spiked up, hangs from the sword, screaming unintelligibly. Billy looks at the Yakuza member, nods, and shuts the door.

Billy: Yep, that’s how you can tell it was a good night.

Sal: How typical of us to be accosted by Yakuza!

Vince: Maybe if you didn’t piss on them!!

Sal: Wait, what?

Vince points at Billy, glowering angrily.

Billy: What?

Vince: Think back.

Billy’s left eye twitches as he remembers back to last night..



More darkness.

A street in Tokyo. Flashing, blinding neon lights.

More darkness.

The sight of vomit streaming down Billy’s shirt and onto the floor.


More darkness.

The embrace of darkness.

Billy groans loudly, looking ahead at a young Japanese gentleman in a sharp black suit and sunglasses, despite it being night-time.


The Japanese gentleman sneers, saying something unintelligible. The sound of a zip is heard as the Japanese gentleman looks disgusting, reeling backwards.



Billy cackles, looking down as he grabs his groin and sprays urine all over the shoes of the Yakuza…


Billy: Oh.

Vince: Right, we’ll just head straight to the airport.

Billy: What? We’re not going to go out there and fight--

Vince: NO!!! Let’s do something sensible for a change!!

Billy; Fuck being sensible!! LET’S GO WILD!!

Vince: Can we not?!

Sal: YES WE CAN!!!

Vince walks into his bedroom, exiting almost immediately and wheeling out his suitcase behind him.

Vince: No. We’re leaving.

Billy: What about the salarymen?


Sal: Vince, you a bitch!

Billy [Pulling on his underwear]: He’s right, yeh know.

Vince: If you guys wanna die: Die! I am not dying myself!

Sal wanders into the bedroom before walking out, carrying a black leather suitcase.

Sal: Well, I’m ready.

Billy: Heard the word ‘death’ and shat yersel’, eh?

Sal: No!

Vince: Guys, can we please leave?!

Billy [Sighing]: Do we have to?!

Vince: It’s not like we have any choice!

Billy walks into the bedroom before walking back out, somehow instantaneously clothed and wheeling a suitcase behind him.

Sal: What the fuck? Did you freeze time or something?

Billy: Nah, I’m used to dressing quickly when somebody wants to kill us. We get tons of practice in the Academy.

Sal: Like that time we came under fire from the Coaches while we were sleeping in the buff? Because they wanted us to put on our ballistic vests in two seconds just in case the enemy ambushed us while we slept?

Vince: No, that happened because Billy was caught with Coach Cussion’s whiskey stash.

Billy: Exactly.

Billy’s left eye twitches as he begins to think back again.

Sal: Uh, I think he’s having a flashback.

Vince: Looks like he’s constipated--

Sal: For fucks sake, let’s just hurry!

Sal and Vince take one of Billy’s hands each, dragging him away as Billy succumbs to the horrors of his thoughts..


Billy is imagining back to his time at the Academy. Billy is sat in a toilet stall, looking at the closed door ahead of him. In his hands, he holds a battle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label, glancing at the amber liquid inside with intense longing.

Billy: Shit, if Coach Cussion says he catches me again, he’s gonna kill me while I’m sleeping……One sip won’t hurt..

Billy touches the cap. At that very moment, he listens as he hears the bathroom door open, followed by the stomping of a pair of heavy combat boots.

Billy: FUCK.

Coach Cussion’s Voice [Enraged]: I THOUGHT I HEARD A SCOTTISH BASTARD IN HERE!!!

The door of the stall is booted open as the bald, blue-eyed form of Coach Cussion stands there, brows furrowed furiously and cold eyes glaring at Billy, arms folded.

Billy: Uhh…I was………holding this for you.

Coach Cussion doesn’t respond, instead throwing a straight jab at Billy, causing his thoughts to swiftly cut to black.


Billy comes to, being dragged through the crowded streets of Tokyo. He digs his heels into the concrete, stopping himself as Sal and Vince let his hands go.

Sal: Are you finally awake?!

Billy: Yeah, I got lost for a second.

Sal: Fuck, man, that’s one scary place to get lost in: Your damn mind.

Billy: I’ll second that!....Uh…where are we going?

Vince: We need a taxi! There should be a taxi rank at the end of the street! Hopefully!

Billy: If not, LET’S JUST FIGHT!

Vince: Let’s not!

Vince and Sal continue to hurry down the street, with Billy bringing up the rear somewhat reluctantly. Billy stops, turning his head and looking at two maids handing out packages of tissues as a means of advertising their café.

Billy: Hey, maids--

Vince: Don’t!

Billy sighs, walking past the maids and through the bustling Tokyo street, following Vince and Sal.

Billy: Can’t we just stop fer a drink?!

Sal: If you want to die, sure!

Billy: Anything for a drink--

Billy goes to walk into a side-alley but Sal backtracks, grasping him by his collar and pulling him forward.

Sal: You really do have a goddamn one track mind!

Billy: Why are we even running?!


Billy’s left eye twitches again.

Sal: oh, for fucks sake, he’s having a thought process again..


Billy flashes back to last night. The scene is little more than blurred lights passing in front of his eyes. However, he focuses on one scene: Standing in front of a small bar, Billy jabs his index finger into the chest of a young man wearing a vivid white suit.


The young man speaks in Japanese, a language complete foreign to the garbled mind and tongue of Billy, but he appears confused. He pushes Billy away with his right hand: Billy growls angrily, lunging forward and grasping the black tie of the young man, pulling it out of his jacket and towards him.

Sal: Goddammit Billy, he’s Yakuza! Stop!

Billy tightens the tie, effectively choking the Yakuza.


Sal: Oh, great, he’s being Scottish again.

Billy [Angrily]: DIE, YOU WEE FUCK!!

Billy pushes the Yakuza member to the floor, turning around and opening his arms, goading two more Yakuza members who are walking down the street towards them.


Vince [Sighing]: Please don’t do this.


Sal: It’s Tokyo, you dense, dense fuck.

Billy spins around, grasping Sal and locking his hands around his throat, throttling him violently. Sal screams, choking wildly as Billy drags him to the ground. Vince simply continues to record it.

Vince: And this, Youtube, is a Glaswegian in Japan.


Billy: Yeah, it’s coming back tae me.

Sal: So, we fought the Yakuza and won?

Vince: Billy did. And now they’re pissed.

Sal: Why can’t this shit be like anime?! Why can’t he beat up random people in the street and win the affections of a harem of dense girls?! Preferably monster girls!

Vince: Monster Musume?!

Sal: What?

Vince: Monster Girls! You watch Monster Musume?!

Sal: Is that what that weird shit was with the snake girl, the centaur with massive ta-tas and the little birdie?

Vince: Yeah!

Billy [Laughing]: HA! YEH FOOKIN’ WEEABOO!!!

Sal [Sighing]: My flaws have been exposed. How awful.

Billy: That’s one hell of a flaw, mate.

Vince [Angrily]: Can we just keep walking?! We need to get a taxi!

Billy: Can’t they just drive up this street?!


Billy: So? Ram ‘em, they’ll heal!

Sal: Billy, stop being a psychopathic cunt!

Billy: Never!

Vince: We’re almost there!

Billy: Yeah yeah, yeh wee Jessie!

Vince: Back to Cairo!

Sal: Yeah, we have to go home.

Vince sighs loudly.

Vince: I wish we could stay longer. If you hadn’t pissed off the Yakuza!

Billy: We may have to..

Vince: REALLY?!?!

Billy [Pointing ahead]: Aye, the Yakuza look pissed.

Ahead of them, blocking off the street, are ten Yakuza members in white suits, carrying a myriad of weaponry including bike chains, kendo sticks and even tanto knives.

Sal: Oh.


Lynch, Antiope and Spartan Company, having recovered from their alcoholic start to the New Year, are busy making their way through the Belledonne once more. They are making their way up a rocky path which appears to have been disturbed by relatively fresh footprints which have scattered and flattened the snow, making it somewhat easier to navigate the mountain. Antiope and Lynch, however, are using hiking poles to make their way up the Rocher Blanc mountain within the range. Lynch is breathing heavily, the shortage of air as they breach the subalpine zone clearly affecting him.

Lynch: I…fucking hate…France.

Antiope: Lynch, you produce so much whine that we’re in danger of being attacked by the French for having a monopoly in the market.

Lynch [Snorting]: Smartass motherfucker…..aren’t you?

Antiope: Yep.

Lynch: Where…is this damn…..laboratory anyway?

Antiope: Fairly close by. Mother said to follow the disturbed path.

Lynch [Quietly]: And the disturbed wom--

Antiope [Sighing]: Lynch, are you…so unintelligent that you just HAVE to choose the obvious insult?! I mean, at least TRY and be original!

Lynch: Like?..

Antiope: Shut the fuck up and follow me, you dumb bastard.

Lynch: That’s not original!!

Antiope: And try not to die, will you?

Lynch: Fuck you!!

Antiope: You sound like you’re about to collapse and I don’t want my Company having to snowboard your ass back down into Grenoble.

Private Jameson [Laughing]: It won’t be me!

Lynch [Sighing]: HOW MUCH FURTHER?!

Antiope: Not much: The footprints terminate ahead.

Lynch looks ahead: Sure enough, at the crest of the hill, the footprints seem to vanish, leaving untouched, fluffy snow before them. Lynch leans on his hiking stick, gasping for air as he looks around.

Lynch: So where the fuck is it?!

Private Robertson: To our left.

Lynch and Antiope turn left: Embedded into the rock, as with the other laboratories, is a fairly obvious white metal door with a circular handle. A label with the word “TOP SECRET” in red letters is pasted above the handle.

Antiope: How did nobody notice this sooner?

Lynch: The French don’t give a fuck.

Private Robertson: He has a point.

Antiope: Quiet, Private.

Lynch [Mumbling]: Can’t believe this is my holiday. Frank called me yesterday and that son of a bitch is in Las Vegas with Will and Bob.

Antiope: I wish you were there too, Lynch, for what it’s worth.

Lynch [Angrily]: IT’S WORTH NOTHING!!

Antiope: Much like yourself, then.

Lynch: ….Well, I walked into that one.

Antiope: Alright, Adler: Work your magic on the door.

Lieutenant Adler walks over to the door, carrying a satchel charge in her hands.


Adler pushes the satchel charge across the door, which slowly opens up into a hallway carved straight into the jagged rock of the mountain.

Lieutenant Adler: …I seem to be way ahead of you, Ma’am.

Antiope: You’re good, Adler!

Lieutenant Adler: No, ma’am, it’s just that there’s somebody here.

Antiope: Oh.

Lynch: Lemme guess: Randolph?

A silence punctuates his sentence.

Antiope: Maybe we should check.

Lynch: Yeah, cause that lazy asshole ain’t gonna move anytime soon.

Antiope and Lynch walk through the door, leading the Spartan Company inside the compound. A short corridor awaits them, with light tubes directly down the middle of the ceiling above them, forming a line towards their destination: A pneumatic door which is opened, revealing a room which is already packed by soldiers who are busy peering and rifling through desks. Antiope and Lynch enter the room, noticing that it appears more like an office than a laboratory, with no vats or scientific equipment anywhere to be seen: Simply a random assortment of desks with monitors on them, each of which have had their wires cut. Standing near the door, Captain Randolph spins around, arms clasped behind his back.

Antiope: Hello Randolph.

Captain Randolph: Ah, Antiope…and Marcus!...Yet only Spartan Company?—Don’t tell me the Rejects finally killed themselves?!

Lynch: No. Mother has me assisting Antiope and Spartan Company for this mission. Why are YOU here?

Captain Randolph: After receiving your communications, she sent several teams into the Alps to scour for secret bases. So far we’ve discovered…… This one, to be precise.

Lynch: Plus ours! That makes…..two.

Antiope: That’s it? No sprawling complex of laboratories?

Captain Randolph: Makes sense, though. I imagine it would be pretty fucking obvious if you saw that the Alps was using enough power to heat an entire country.

Lynch: But have you find anything? Like…psychotic furry super-soldiers?

Captain Randolph: Y’see, the weird thing is that all we’ve found are abominations. Horrendously mutated, barely living abominations--

Lynch: --And that’s just the French!

Captain Randolph: Yes yes, get the French jokes in while you can, Lynch!

Lynch: I think I will!

Antiope: What is happening, Randolph?

Captain Randolph: Well, what you are seeing are the experiments that weren’t quite right. We haven’t found a perfect specimen, like our sugar glider female friend down in the Sinai. All we have are these horrible, gnarled, twisted…things driven by bloodlust and hatred. But there’s none here, as you can see, which is odd.

Lynch: Can I make a joke?

Antiope: Don’t pick low-hanging fruit, Lynch. Did you find any information at all?

Captain Randolph: Those folders and a single memory stick. That’s all. They knew we were coming. And there’s nothing here at all. It all seems out of place.

Private Theys [Walking over, carrying a laptop under his arm]: It’s all shit, sir.

Theys throws the laptop onto the floor dramatically, smashing the screen and sending several keys across the floor.

Lieutenant Adler: Seems odd that we find nothing, and that it’s all been evacuated..

Lynch: Hm. A mole in the Academy?

Antiope: Not a pleasant conclusion to jump to, but…..

Captain Randolph [Sighing]: Great. A mole.

Lynch: So, what now?

Captain Randolph: We’re heading home. We need to debrief Mother about what we’ve seen.

Lynch: The violence and the furries?

Captain Randolph: All of it. She’ll want to know about this.

Private Johansson, the soldier who was mutilated in Karelia, stumbles forward, walking on a cybernetic leg which creaks slightly as he walks forward. He salutes Randolph, who returns the salute.

Captain Randolph: Is everything alright, Johansson?

Johansson: We’ve found nothing, sir.

Captain Randolph: So, that’s it? We scoured every inch of this place?

Johansson: Well, sir, you’re looking at every inch of this place. This fucking room IS the place.

Lieutenant Thompson [Nearby, angrily]:  A FUCKING WASTE OF TIME!!! I WANT TO KILL SOME FURBALLS!!!

Lynch [Cautiously]: Randolph, do you have any information about the experiments?

Captain Randolph: Some.

Lynch: Are we really going to bring it home? We should destroy that shit.

Captain Randolph: I’d think the same, old friend, but it’s clear that our enemies are already several steps ahead of us with the Perfect Soldier Project. This information could help us level the playing field. Could let us know what we’re dealing with. Maybe even let us know WHO we’re dealing with.

Antiope: The Patriots.

Captain Randolph [Chuckling]: Those psychotic AI’s? I doubt it. No, this is something new. Something……interesting.

Lynch: Aw, come on, it’s clearly Ocelot or The Patriots. It’s always them.

Captain Randolph: What about Big Boss?

Lynch: Big Boss ain’t shit. Motherfucker had two—No, THREE bases and they were all destroyed.

Antiope: Really? You’re going to criticise THE mercenary of mercenaries?

Lynch: Damn straight! Unlike him, I ain’t a bitch!

Antiope [Sighing]: Really, Lynch? Really?!

Lynch: I oughta be Big Boss!

Captain Randolph [Laughing]: Keep dreaming, Marcus!

Lynch: Fuck you, Randolph! What? Do you think YOU could be Big Boss?

Captain Randolph: Well, I do have actual evidence of experiments from this mission, while you have blisters from walking through the Belledonne.

Lynch [Scowling]: You have three folders and a memory stick!!

Captain Randolph: So it seems, Marcus, but I have no doubt that there’s more to be found.

Lynch: So why don’t we try and find it?

Antiope: It’s not here. Mother’s going to send in the Reapers and Ghost Company to clear everything out, and that’s it: They’ve probably relocated. Maybe they wouldn’t have been spooked if Karelia hadn’t been carpet-bombed..

Captain Randolph; But it was so fuckin’ beautiful.

Antiope: We need to evac, then.

Captain Randolph: Follow me and my men. We’ll have you home soon.

Captain Randolph walks past Antiope and Lynch, following his soldiers outside.

Lynch [Sighing]: What a waste of fucking time..

Antiope: Indeed. But, at least you can have your vacation now.

Lynch: ………..Good idea.

Lynch quickly rushes out of the room as Antiope dusts off her hands.

Lieutenant Adler: Is everything alright, ma’am?

Antiope: Adler, I don’t think we’re done in the Belledonne..

Lieutenant Adler: ………I agree, ma’am.


Back on Walker Street, the adjoining street to Beale Street, the Mechanics have arrived at their Chop Shop. Mustafa slips a key into a control box to the left of the roller shutter, twisting it and activating the shutter which swiftly rolls upwards. Eligio walks in and against the back wall is a galvanising bath, in which is sat Dave. Completely naked, Dave is busy scrubbing under his arm with a sponge. The smell of harsh chemicals hits Eligio’s nostrils immediately as he retches slightly, waving his hand in front of his nose.

Eligio: Dave, what are you doing?!

Dave: Bathing.

Eligio: Those are harsh chemicals, hombre!

Dave: Dick soaked me in rancid piss. It’s the only thing that’ll work!

Eligio: You’ll strip your skin--


Bobby: Leave him. We have business to attend to.

Eligio: Si, si…Dave, leave when you’re done.

Dave: Yeah yeah.

To the right of the galvanising bath is a metal door. Eligio leads Mustafa, Marcos, Bobby and Johan, who is carrying Melvin, through the door and up a set of stairs, towards another door which opens up into Eligio’s office. Despite the stylishness of the man himself, the office is surprisingly threadbare, with little more than a wooden folding table set up in the middle of the room with a metal folding chair behind it and a random menagerie of papers scattered across the top of the table, held down by a single glass. Eligio walks behind the table, sitting in his chair as Johan sets Melvin down onto his stomach, cutting off the ropes that bind him and letting him up onto his feet.

Melvin [Dusting himself off]: Thanks guys. We..can let this all go now, right?

Eligio: We’ll have to see.

Mustafa walks into the room, followed by Bobby and Marcos, who shuts the door behind him. Bobby walks over to a pair of filing cabinets to the left of the door, opening the middle drawer of the right filing cabinet and pulling out a bottle of Arette Gran Clase Extra Anejo tequila, walking over to the table and handing it to Eligio.

Melvin: Oh come on, guys! I’m not that bad, am I?

Mustafa: We risked our balls for you again!

Bobby: I mean, seriously, mate: Between your addiction and you damn near getting yourself and Eligio killed, you’re not the flavour of the month.

Eligio grasps the glass he’s using as a paperweight, pouring some of the tequila into the glass and taking a sip before sighing quietly. The usually talkative and energetic Eligio remains somewhat downbeat as Mustafa walks to the right, grabbing a black leather briefcase beside the door and lifting it up, placing it on the table in front of Eligio.

Johan: I must admit that it’s proving tiresome.

Melvin: I’m not doing it on purpose--

Mustafa: So the drugs accidentally injected themselves into you?!

Melvin: Come on, guys!!

Bobby: Don’t bloody whine to us! Did you know that even Mother finds you to be a liability?!

Melvin [Chuckling]: Mother finds everyone a liability!!

Melvin chuckles, but a tense silence follows. Mustafa shoots Bobby an uneasy look. Melvin walks over to the desk, looking at Eligio.

Mustafa: Melvin..

Melvin: Look, guys, I’m ready to come back to work. I promise, I won’t get into any more trouble! What do you say, Eligio? Let me back?

Eligio takes another sip of tequila before finally raising his head and looking Melvin directly in the eye.

Eligio [Quietly]: I have done many, many things in my life that could be considered questionable….Y’know, one day I actually stole some change off of a blind beggar down in Tijuana. Just…some old blind guy with change in his hat…Thirty centavos, that’s all. Thirty.

Bobby: What the fuck are you on about, mate?

Eligio: There came a day when I looked in the mirror at myself and didn’t like what I saw looking back. It was because of this that I started my own business: I used my own money that I earned from washing cars and used it to buy property, which I turned into a car wash. It took many, many years, but I could finally turn that car wash into a garage. And I turned my love of vehicles into my business. And so I opened up another garage in Mexico City, then another in Guadalajara--

Mustafa: Can you get to the point?

Eligio [Angrily]: WHEN I CAME HERE, I DID IT OF MY OWN FUCKING FREE WILL!! I DID IT BECAUSE I WAS SICK OF BEING A COWARD!!! I WANTED TO HELP IN ANY WAY THAT I COULD TO BE A THORN IN OCELOT’S SIDE!! I WAS NEVER A PART OF ANY MILITARY, I JUST WANTED TO BUILD THE TANKS THAT WE COULD DRIVE UP THE ASS OF OCELOT AND THE PATRIOTS!!!!!!!....I promised to never do anything that could be considered evil again…I mean, sure, I whip people, I’m a harsh owner in your eyes, but I pay you well, don’t I?

Marcos: Well…yeah.

Eligio: And I protect you as well! I do my fucking damnedest to make sure that none of you come to harm, right?!

Johan: You sure do, boss. Remember when Praying Mantis attacked and you fought them off? That was awesome!

Eligio [Nodding]: I am going to break my promise now, and I hope and pray that none of you hold it against me.

Bobby: Eligio…

Eligio slowly rises to his feet, unclasping the briefcase and pulling out an FN Five-Seven pistol from it.

Eligio [Struggling slightly]: …I….I’m sorry…but we can’t keep protecting you…I cannot risk the lives of me and my friends…for one man…

Melvin [Eyes widening]: You can’t be fucking serious?!

Eligio [Sighing]: We..can’t keep someone who doesn’t have faith in Mother…We can’t keep someone who is a liability….We’ve spent far too many resources rescuing you…

Melvin: AND YOU!!!

Mustafa: He didn’t turn his back! He tried to fight off those Praying Mantis bastards who kidnapped him and you!!!

Bobby: And now we have Los fucking Zetas after us!! I don’t know if you’ve noticed, mate, but ever since the Patriots and Ocelot began fucking around with PMC’s, all they’ve done is grow. You’ve seen it for yourself.

Eligio: And we can’t afford that. Not now.

Melvin: What?! You want me to stand here and say “Remember the Alamo!”?! Do you think that I’m going to sacrifice myself just so you crazy fucks can sit here, bone idle, and not do anything?! Just so you can throw my corpse to the feet of Los Zetas in an attempt to appease them?!

Eligio [Growing angry]: We’re building and preparing for the war effort--

Melvin [Laughing]: The war effort?! We’re a bunch of lost fuckers in the middle of a wasteland waiting for a single PMC to smarten up, launch a full-scale attack and wipe us all out!! THERE IS NO WAR EFFORT!!

Eligio turns the safety off on the gun.

Mustafa: There IS!

Melvin [Shrugging]: Fine, y’know what? Do it. Fucking do it. What? You want me to run? Hide? Beg?

Eligio: Melvin--

Melvin: --Because we all know that you, Eligio, don’t have the fucking balls to do what you’re thinking of doing!! I mean, what are you going to do, really? Shoot m--

Without hesitation, Eligio sweeps the gun upwards and pulls the trigger. A single shot rings out and Melvin collapses backwards onto the floor. Blood sprays back against the door behind him as he hits the floor, a bullet planted directly in his forehead. Melvin’s eyes glaze over as he has no time to let out fitting final words before he dies.

Eligio lets out a deep breath, placing the pistol back into the suitcase.

Marcos: Those are some poor last words.

Bobby [Quietly]: …What do we do now?....

Mustafa [Quietly]: …I’ll take the body out to the desert…Bury it deep…Take a picture before I do and upload it……Make sure Los Zetas know that he’s dead…

Bobby: Alright, mate…Alright…

Mustafa squats down, cradling Melvin’s body in his arms. Bobby reaches over, placing his hand on Melvin’s face and closing his eyes.

Eligio: Go.

Mustafa: Yes, boss.

Mustafa turns around, walking out of the door. He’s followed by Bobby, as well as Johan, leaving only Eligio and Marcos in the office as the door shuts.

Marcos: What do we do about Dave?

Eligio: Dave’s a good guy: We’ll make up a stupid lie for him.

Marcos: ….Y’know, I always thought the gang would remain intact for this entire journey. Now one of us is dead.

Eligio: Maybe there’s some small comfort we can take from the fact that it was one of us who pulled the trigger.

Marcos: ….Not really.

Eligio sighs, sitting down in his chair. The sound of a distant aircraft can be heard as Marcos falls silent.

Eligio: The others will be here soon anyway.

Marcos: Looks like the streets are about to get noisy again.

Eligio: Yeah..

Eligio sits back in his chair, eyes glazing over as he listens to the sound fade into the distance before the scene fades to black.

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