Metal Gear Mercenaries : The Blast In The Past - Chapter II - The Traitors with the Brains of Potatoes

The scene opens up where we left off: With Ocelot and his GRU Operative surrounding Snake, Sokolov and the mercenaries. Snake warily eyes the GRU operatives, whilst Vince eyes Ocelot suspiciously.

Vince [coldly]: Furries…

Will: I mean, coming from an Otaku, I find your rage at another subculture hilarious, especially considering you own a pleasure-bot.

Vince [Coldly]: Don’t talk shit about Washu-bot.

Will: And that robot probably cost you far more money than a fursuit--

Vince [Angrily]: STOP DEFENDING FURRIES!!

Billy: I cannae believe yeh having this conversation right fucking now, while we’re surrounded.

Ocelot [Circling Snake]: What is that stance?!...That gun?

Ocelot starts laughing, which causes the other GRU operatives to laugh as well.

Ocelot: …If you’re not the Boss…then DIE.

Ocelot spins his gun with a flourish, pulling back the slide. A bullet swiftly jams in the receiver.

Ocelot: Oh.

Ocelot looks down at his gun. Snake grins brightly, lunging forward and grasping Ocelot’s right arm, extending it and moving behind him, holding his left arm which clutches his knife across Ocelot’s neck, holding the knife to Ocelot’s throat before slamming him backwards onto the ground. Snake stands over Ocelot, his right arm between Snake’s legs, and grasps the Makarov, wrenching it from Ocelot’s grasp. Sokolov yelps wildly, screaming and running off into the distance. A GRU Operative turns his head, watching.

GRU Operative: Major!

Johnny [Angrily]: FOR FUCKS SAKE, HE’S SPRY!

Lynch [Angrily]: WELL FUCKING CHASE HIM, THEN!!!

Jon [Angrily]: I WILL FUCKING SHOOT YOU IF YOU FUCKING KEEP RUNNING YOU FUCKING PINKO MOTHERFUCKING NERD MOTHERFUCKING PIECE OF MOTHERFUCKING SHIT!!!! I WILL FUCK YOUR SHIT UP IF YOU TAKE ANOTHER FUCKING STEP YOU ABSOLUTE CUNT OF ALL CUNTS!!!

Jon hurtles after Sokolov.

Major Ocelot: Leave him! Shoot the other one!

The GRU Operative lunges forward, but Snake twists, grasping the back of the operative’s head and gripping him tightly, moving him aside and firing a tranquilizer dart at a second GRU Operative, hitting him in the arm. Snake shoves the human shield into a third GRU Operative, knocking them both down, before turning to the fourth. Before he can do anything

A fifth rushes forward, which Bobby swiftly clotheslines to the floor. A sixth moves forward as well, aiming down his rifle, but he backs into a stack of two metal boxes, atop which is Billy.

Billy [Bellowing]: WHO REMEMBERS AOKIGAHARA?!?!

Lynch: Oh please no.

”Natural Born Killaz” by  Dr. Dre and Ice Cube starts playing as Sal, Bob and Brick stand beside Billy. All four men leap off the top of the box, flattening the GRU Soldier and a second who rose to his feet behind him.

Eligio: Well, it gets results.

Lynch: I swear to fucking God if they start to New Jack every goddamn time there’s an enemy below a tall spot…

Sal [Getting to his feet and dusting himself off]: No promises..

Phil: And technically, the correct term is “Gangsta Splash”—

Lynch [Bluntly]: Shut the fuck up.

Phil: Okay.

Snake turns to the GRU Operative he shot earlier. The Operative stumbles around before collapsing forward. Ocelot gets to his feet, lunging at Snake who grasps his right arm and spins him, locking his arm to his side before slamming the butt of his pistol into Ocelot’s jaw and slamming him down into the dirt with a deafening crash. The gun flies out of Ocelot’s grasp, the bullet finally ejecting across the floor.

Ocelot [Groaning]: Impossible!

Snake: You ejected the first bullet by hand, didn’t you? I see what you were trying to do. But..testing a technique you’ve only heard about, in the middle of a battle? Not very smart. You were asking to have your gun jam on you. I don’t think your cut out for an automatic in the first place: You twist your elbow to absorb the recoil. That’s more of a revolver technique.

Ocelot’s eyes slowly open, glaring at Naked Snake.

Vince: Aw shit, he woke.

Ocelot [Angrily]: YOU FILTHY AMERICAN DOG!

Ocelot swiftly unsheathes a knife from the rear of his belt.

Bill: LOOK OUT, SNAKE, HE’S GOT A STICKIN’ KNIFE!

Ocelot swiftly sits up and lunges for Snake with his right hand. Snake grasps it and twists it under him, pushing the knife aside and punching him in the left kidney. Snake stands up straight and, smirking, hits the back of Ocelot’s head with the butt of his tranquilizer pistol. He locks his arm around Ocelot’s neck before twisting and throwing him straight to the ground, aiming his pistol down at him. Ocelot grunts in pained anger.

Snake [Lunging downwards and holding the knife over Ocelot’s throat]: But that WAS some fancy shooting. You’re pretty good.

Ocelot [Angrily grasping Snake’s forearm]: Pretty…good…

Ocelot flicks out two fingers on his right hand in the shape of a pistol, his thumb extended into the air, before he slumps backwards to the floor, unconscious, his arms splaying out. Snake holsters his knife and pistol, getting on one knee to communicate with Zero.

Will: Big Boss got some moves.

Lynch: Wish I could knock people out that fancy.

Bill: Eh, fists work just as good.

Sal: So, there’s an internal Soviet power struggle going on?

Fabien: Ve could play zis to our advantage, non? Play one side against the other.

Lynch: We’re only here for this mission. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.

Snake slowly rises to his feet, turning to the mercenaries.

Snake: Well?

Lynch: Come on. Let’s head back to Dolinovodno and hope Jon and the others have caught Sokolov.

Lynch leads the mercenaries and Snake forward.

Sal: Well, hopefully this’ll be a quick mission.

Lynch: Homesick already?

Sal: Well, yeah, aren’t you?

Lynch: Well….

**BEALE STREET – LAMB AND FLAG - PRESENT DAY**

In the Lamb and Flag, everything is kitted out for New Year’s celebrations. Given the Lamb and Flag, however, this simply means a few pennants hanging from the dusty wooden timbers in the ceiling and a line of tinsel nailed across the bar, with a few party poppers strewn across tables. The fathers of the mercenaries, called in to protect the streets from intermittent PMC attacks, are all firmly lodged within the small confines of the pubs, and the round wooden tables are now littered with a variety of empty drink bottles and cans. Emilie herself is sat in the back right corner, closest to the toilets, with her arms folded and sulking foully with a party hat perched on her head, and with Crumpet, her pet rat, laying on her right shoulder.. Michael Kingston climbs onto the bar, raising his wine glass.

Michael Kingston: ALRIGHT, CUNTS, LET’S HAVE A CHEER!!!

The entire bar roars out a bellowing cheer, raising their glasses in unison.

Rick Sykes: GIVE ME A MOTHERFUCKING HELL YEAH!!!

A huge, unified “Hell Yeah!” goes up from the bar.

Maurice [Watching from the kitchen]: I ain’t cleaning this puke up.

Moe [Watching from the kitchen]: Should we go see Mother?

Maurice: About what?

Moe: Getting the fuck out of here and onto the mission.

Maurice: We have specific orders for being here, mate.

Moe: Which are?

Maurice: To protect these assholes.

Moe: From what?

Maurice: Themselves.

Moe [Sighing]: Ah.

Dick: Well guys, I’m glad you’re all happy but—

Boris Hellgenstrand [Jovially]: MORE DRINKS!!

Dick: Guys, we--

Rick Sykes: MORE DRINKS!!

Dick: Will you jus—

Stephen LaMarr: MOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!!!!!!!!

Michael Kingston: Shit, this is the life! Getting paid to sit around and drink beer!

Dick [Angrily]: You’re supposed to be protecting this place!

Joey Studlin: Hey, we sent out Truly Terrifying Tommy on patrol! That’s all we need!

Dick [Angrily]: HE’S NOT ON PATROL! HE’S STANDING OUTSIDE DRINKING!

Truly Terrifying Tommy [Peering through a crack in the door and waving an empty bottle]: Guys, empty out here.

John Chevrolet [Getting out of his chair]: Alright Tommy, I’m coming.

Joey Studlin: See? John’s his wingman.

Dick [Turning to Maurice and Moe]: I don’t even know what to do.

Maurice: Don’t look at us, mate, we don’t got a clue either!

Moe: Maybe we can ask Jericho’s lass.

Moe, Maurice and Dick look over towards Emilie who hasn’t moved an inch, still sulking foully.

Moe: Where did he find her anyway? Wearing that corset and with her ringlets and shit. She looks like she came from the Victorian era.

Maurice: Nah, it must be a new fashion or some shit.

Moe: That lace skirt, though?

Maurice: Never proclaimed myself to be an expert on current fashion mate.

Ian Stone [Squeezing past the bar]: I GOTTA TAKE A PISS!!

Dick [Angrily]: NOT ON THE BAR! JUST TAKE IT OUTSIDE!

Moe: Where did they find these guys?

Dick: I’m sure a few came from homeless shelters, knowing what veterans are like.

Dalip Tevany-Singh [Angrily, pointing at the kitchen]: DICK! YOU BETTER BE MAKING ME MY GODDAMN MANGO LASSI!! I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR FIVE MINUTES!!

Dick: I guess we’re not going home anytime soon.

Maurice: Don’t kid yourself, Dick, this is our home.

Dick: I meant London.

Maurice: ….Don’t kid yourself, Dick, this is our home.

**RASSVET – 1964**

Lynch: Absolutely fucking not.

Sal: Yeah, I can’t blame you.

The group emerge in Dolinovodno, making their way back to the area where the rickety rope bridge crossed over the yawning chasm that held a rushing river. Standing behind a tree, close to the bridge, is Sokolov with his nose pressed against the trunk. Jon stands behind him, aiming down the sights of his M16.

Lynch: At ease, Jon.

Jon slowly lowers his rifle. Sokolov turns around and Snake approaches him.

Snake: You okay?

Sokolov: Those men were from the Ocelot Unit.

Snake: Spetsnaz?

Sokolov: Yes. The best GRU has to offer…they’re coming for me. …I’m finish--

Snake [Sighing]: Calm down. I’ll get you out of here, I promise, and we’ve got some of the best damn backup we could ask for.

Lynch: Well--

Snake: Not you.

Sal: Bitch!

The sound of a huge explosion scars the air. The mercenaries, Snake and Sokolov turn around, looking for the source of the sound. Sokolov points upwards: In the distance, on the edge of one of the mountainous sides of the chasm, is the barely visible form of what is essentially a gigantic tank. The turret, smoking from firing a shot, stands on top of a hulking chassis, whilst two ‘treads’ peering from the front of the body actually appear to be ground drills, tucked into the treads to give the appearance of two stubby legs. Snake looks through his binoculars at the monstrosity.

Snake: That’s what they were making you build?

Brick [Squinting]: Looks like a pony.

Jon: What kind of fucking ponies have you been riding?

Sokolov: Shagohod. “The Treading Behemoth”. A tank capable of launching nuclear IRBM’s.

Snake: It can launch nukes from THAT terrain?

Sokolov: Oh yes, and without support from friendly units.

Snake: A nuclear-equipped tank capable of operating solo. Well, that just about ruins my day.

Lynch: Ruins anybody’s day, really.

Snake: Is it finished?

Sokolov: No, this is only the end of phase one. It won’t truly be finished until we complete phase two.

Snake: And that is?

Sokolov: The weapon’s true form. If it is completed and the Colonel gets his hands on it, it will mean the end of the Cold War.

Will: Wait, true form? You mean that launching nukes ain’t enough?

Snake: The end of the Cold War, huh?

Sokolov: Yes, and then the age of fear will truly begin.

Snake: So, a world war.

Sokolov [Sighing, pacing around]: I had no choice but to co-operate. I didn’t want to die! I wanted to see my wife and child again in America! Please, take me to America! Quickly! They cannot complete it without my help!

Snake: Well, let’s go. All of you: Behind me.

Snake readies his knife and pistol, taking point and moving across the bridge with Sokolov behind. Jon moves directly behind Sokolov, with the other mercenaries choosing to stay on solid land. Sokolov peers over the bridge, whimpering before uneasily moving ahead. As they get past the midway point, Lynch walks onto the bridge, staying behind Jon, with Frank also moving forward. A wispy fog slowly starts to descend.

Jericho [Looking around]: Well that’s coming from nowhere.

Bob: Bad signs ahead.

Footsteps slowly echo across the bridge. Snake stops, aiming down the iron sights of his pistol: Through the fog emerges a female figure, wearing khaki fatigues and carrying two metal gun cases in each of her hands, her blonde hair tyed back behind her head with a blue bandana.

The Boss.

Jon: Hey, you’re--

Female [Looking past Snake and at the mercenaries, confused]: Who are you?

Jon [Pointing at Sokolov]: Jon Manguel. I’m here to kick ass and remove this son of a bitch, and I’m all outta ass. Although honey, I got to say--

Frank [In disbelief]: HOLY FUCK JON, DON’T FLIRT WITH HER!!

Female: Do you know who I am?

Jon: Somebody important.

Female: The Boss.

Jon: …..Bruce Springsteen?

The Boss falls silent.

Tim: He’s gonna die, isn’t he?

Bill: Wouldn’t surprise me.

Snake: Boss?

Lynch: Well. This is something.

The fog slowly dissipates. The Boss drops the crate in her right hand, causing the bridge to shake violently. She drops the crate in her left hand, the force of the bridge shaking causing Sokolov to fall onto his rear and causing Lynch, Jon and Frank to grip the sides of the bridge to keep their own footing.

Jon [Angrily]: DAMMIT WOMAN! STOP DOING THAT!

The Boss: Good work, Jack.

Snake: What the hell are you doing here?!

The Boss: Sokolov…comes with me.

A dark cloud suddenly appears, sweeping through the air and blotting out the sun slightly. However, as the cloud descends, it reveals that it is actually made up of thousands upon thousands of swarming…

Frank: Hornets.

Jon stops, looking around. His eyes widen slightly as a swarm of hornets swiftly descend from the sky, stopping between him and Sokolov, whilst also swarming Snake. He stops, his brow furrowing angrily.

Jon [Angrily]: I DON’T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT NO GODDAMN STINGING BEANS!! OUT OF MY WAY, TINY CUNTS!!!

Jon stomps forward and into the swarm of hornets. As he does, a Russian Hind flies over them, hovering over the bridge.

Tim: JON!

Jon [Wincing]: DAMN HORNETS, THEIR STINGING IS HURTING ME!!!

Lynch: JON, RETREAT!

Jon [Wincing]: I’M FINE! NANOMACHINES, SON—ACTUALLY, THIS IS VERY PAINFUL!

Jon spins around on his heels, jogging out of the cloud of hornets and barging into Lynch, sending both men down. Snake looks over his shoulder at Sokolov, and at the mercenaries. A figure descends through the hornets, grasping Sokolov by the back of his jacket and pulling him into the air, towards the Hind. Both of them are obscured by the swarm of hornets as they ascend. The hornets disappear, revealing a heavily-scarred man wearing a ski mask and black-and-yellow tiger stripe camouflage vest over black fatigues leaning out of the side of the Hind. Snake looks up, as does The Boss.

The Boss: My friends. Let us fight together again!

First Figure: I have waited long for this day!

second, Scarred Figure: We will fight with you once more!

The Boss: Now that all five of us are together, it’s time we go to the depths of hell itself.

Snake: Can we stop the exposition and cut to you telling me what the hell was going on?

Lynch [Calling over]: I AGREE!

The sky darkens suddenly, and rain begins to pour over them.

Bill: And just what the fuck is this?

Vince: Some real bad juju.

Jericho: I’ll tell you what it is: Bollocks. Stupid bollocks.

The Boss [Holding out her arms]: It’s raining blood..

Vince holds out his tongue.

Vince: Tastes normal to me.

The Boss: Is he crying?

The Boss looks around the bridge, as if she hears a presence nearby.

Sal: Well, she’s nuts.

Bob: Of course she is. We’re all mad here.

From behind her, through the rain, emerges a gigantic figure, tall and imposing. Clad in a khaki greatcoat, with gold buttons, red shoulderpads and a black holster belt crossing across the chest, the figure strolls onto the bridge, red leather boots echoing off of the wood.

Figure: Kuwabara, kuwabara…

Jon: And just what the fuck is this?

The figure continues walking forward, revealing a heavily scarred face, almost as if the flesh had been stripped away in certain places, and cold grey eyes. Perhaps the most striking feature of this figure, however, were the arcs of electricity dancing off of his body.

Lynch: Well, this is new.

The rain stops.

Commander: Ah, what a joyful scene.

The Boss: Colonel Volgin..

Lynch: What the FUCK?

Volgin’s head snaps up, looking at the mercenaries who instinctively flinch.

Frank: Oh crap. Lynch! Don’t mess with the lightning man!

Volgin: Who are these?

The Boss: I have no idea.

Lynch: We’re…friendlies!

Volgin: I don’t recognise any of you.

Lynch: I’m Lynch…ski--

Frank: He’s our Commander. We’re here under orders of Kosygin.

Volgin: You. Under Kosygin’s orders.

Frank: We’re double-agents.

Volgin: Explain.

Frank falls silent.

Jon [Calmly]: Our unit is a black ops unit under the CIA, known as BAU or the Bad Ass Unit within the ranks. During the Cuban Missile Crisis we were approached by spies within the CIA’s ranks who offered us a lot more money to ally with them with a view of eventually travelling to Russia to train with and alongside GRU. We managed to make our way here and the first mission to prove our loyalty was to hunt down Snake and Sokolov.

Volgin: I was never informed of this.

Jon: We ARE a Black Ops unit. If the CIA discovered this, they’d put a burn notice on us and have us all hunted down to the ends of the Earth. And if they discovered we’d allied with the Russians, of all people?

Volgin: I see. Secrecy is of the utmost importance. So what is the CIA’s official reason for being here?

Jon: To take Sokolov back to the West.

Volgin [Smirking]: But the odds were always in my favour. Excellent. Very well then, comrades. I take it that’s why those four were chasing Sokolov?

Lynch: He’s sadly spry and our orders aren’t to kill him. I ordered them to chase him out of Rassvet towards the ravine where he’d be apprehended.

Volgin: Very well done. I’ll take it from here, comrades.

Volgin turns around.

Lynch [Quietly]: Well done, Jon.

Jon: Hey, I’m smart, what can I say? That and Frank was close to pissing himself.

Frank: He’s fucking terrifying!!!

Sal: Bad Ass Unit? Really?

Jon: He believed it! And plus now we order people to call us bad asses because we’re at the same rank as the GRU!

Bob: How did we even talk ourselves into this?!

Phil: Jon. That’s how. And I like it.

Volgin: Welcome to my country. And to my unit!

Snake: Boss? What is this? And you lot?!

Snake looks over his shoulder. Lynch, Jon and Frank shrug.

Phil: The rules have changed!

Snake [Angrily]: What rules?!

Will: Our personal rules. The one’s where we stay alive.

The Boss: Also, I’m defecting to the Soviet Union.

Bob: See? We’re all staying alive here!

The Boss: Sokolov is a gift for my new hosts.

Lynch: We don’t have gifts. Dean makes a mean steak, though.

Dean waves from the huddle of mercenaries until Samuel slaps his hand down, shaking his head.

Volgin [Leaning down and picking up the gun crates]: And recoilless nuclear warheads! These will make a fine gift for me!

Snake [In disbelief]: This CAN’T be happening!

Volgin: Who is he? Another one of your disciples? Are we taking him with us?

The Boss [Turning to Volgin]: No, this one is still just a child. Too pure for us Cobras. He has not yet found an emotion to carry into battle.

Snake: What are you talking about?

Volgin turns around. Snake swiftly readies his pistol and The Boss moves forward.

The Boss: Think you can pull the trigger?

Lynch: Snake, just let it go.

The Boss jolts forward, pulling back the slide of the gun and managing to remove it from the body of the gun in one deft movement, pushing Snake down onto his rear. Snake aims down his pistol, only to notice its missing, before The Boss throws it at him. He quickly gets up, aiming a left-handed strike at Boss who catches the arm, jolting it downwards and swiftly punching him in the face, twisting his arm around and taut to the side. The Boss swiftly slams her forearm down into the elbow, dislocating Snake’s arm and causing him to scream in pain.

Lynch [Wincing]: Jesus.

Dean: And this is why we defected.

Samuel: To avoid broken arms?

Karab: And death.

Snake falls onto all fours. Volgin sets down the crates gently and turns around.

Volgin: He’s seen my face. We can’t let him live.

Volgin flicks out his arms as The Boss moves behind Snake, marching towards Snake.

Volgin: If Khrushchev finds out about this, we’re finished.

Volgin reaches into his pockets before pulling out bullets held between each of his fingers, crossing his arms over his chest as his arms crackle with electricity.

Samuel: I mean, what even is going on at this point.

Eligio: Something interesting.

Samuel: Interest--

Eligio: Yes. Interesting. Which is the story I’m keeping because I don’t plan on getting on the bad side of a guy who can manipulate lightning.

Volgin: He must die.

The Boss: Wait. He’s my apprentice. I’ll take care of him.

Volgin lets his arms hang by his side as The Boss turns to Snake.

The Boss: Jack, you can’t come with us.

The Boss holds out her hand. Snake hangs his head but takes her hand anyway: She grips his hand, pulling him towards her and elbowing him roughly in the abdomen. Snake hunches over her arm, but grasps the back of her head with his right hand, glaring at her. The Boss grasps the collar of Snake and throws him ruthlessly over the rope and towards the ravine below. Her bandana is torn off by Snake, who lets out an angry bellow, which quietens as he heads to the bottom of the ravine.

Brick: Aw. Fuck.

Steve [Aside, to Lynch]: I thought you said that, as long as you were here, nobody would be getting thrown off of the bridge.

Lynch: I meant our guys.

Steve: Did you?

Lynch [Calmly]: Steve, I lie. Is that so hard to believe?

Snake crashes into the water with a huge splash.

Joseph: Really hope he can swim.

Vince: That looks like it hurt quite badly.

Sal: Thanks, Sherlock. Any other nuggets of wisdom you wish to share?

Vince: That was a very high drop he just suffered.

Billy: Well, yeh did ask..

The Boss walks over to the side of the bridge, watching the rushing water below.

Volgin [Standing beside her]: Are we done here?

The Boss: Now, on to Sokolov’s research facility.

Volgin: Shagohod is ours!

Volgin walks away. The Boss grips the rope on the side of the bridge.

The Boss: Drift away…My place is with them now.

The Hind slowly lowers towards the bridge.

Lynch: So, what do we do now?

Volgin: Come with me.

Lynch: Well, lead the way.

Lynch leads the mercenaries across the bridge, following Volgin and moving past The Boss..

**BEALE STREET – PRESENT DAY**

Back in Beale Street, Emilie is stood outside the Lamb and Flag, eyes shut as she sighs loudly, listening to the sounds of breaking glass, whooping and party poppers in the building behind her. She slowly opens her eyes, turning her head to the left and watching as Tavi slowly walks over to her, hands tucked in the pocket of her jeans beneath a thick, quilted black parka. She lets out a visible breath, chuckling as she stands near Emilie.

Tavi: Cold desert night, huh?

Emilie: Yes..

Tavi: You alright? Sitting here in the cold with nothing but laces and petticoats?

Emilie: Yes…

Tavi: The drunken assholes getting to you, huh?

Emilie [Quietly]: I hate this. I want to be out there with my love, killing his enemies.

Tavi [Chuckling]: That’s cute, hon, but you really don’t want to be out there.

Emilie: Why?

Tavi: They have a very unique habit of messing things up horribly.

Emilie [Frowning]: You speak ill of your allies?

Tavi [Chuckling]: Of course I do. Have you seen them? They’re hardly useful.

Emilie: What do you mean?

Tavi: Look at them! They’re hardly house-trained, they’ve been discharged from their militaries and they’re given the most unimportant location in the entire Academy area!

Emilie: Last I checked, this is one of the closest locations to the Suez Canal.

Tavi falls silent.

Tavi [In disbelief]: Are you telling me they’re stupid on purpose? Like, as a ruse?

Emilie: Have you not thought that they like to have mindless fun? Much like children, they have simple, one-dimensional tastes and pleasures. That does not make them stupid. Childish? Of course. Stupid? No.

Tavi: Hm. Guess I’ve never thought about it that way.

Emilie: You’ve lived amongst them and haven’t thought about it?

Tavi: No. It’s like when you hear a pneumatic drill: You don’t think about it, it just fucking annoys you.

Emilie: You underestimate them.

Tavi: I do?

Emilie: You mock them, but they have protected these arid lands for many years. You dislike them, but they keep you amongst them without penalty. You laugh at them, but they are trusted enough to be committed to a top secret mission with grave implications.

Tavi [Taken aback]: …Huh. I guess when you put it that way..

Emilie: You may speak ill of them, but they are highly trained men of worth. After all, do you think they would fail this mission? Let those who they were sworn to protect die? Ally themselves with a great evil? Of course they would not do that. They are heroes, regardless of your mockery.

***

The fleet of transport helicopters are beginning their flight away from the jungle, carrying the now-Volgin aligned group of mercenaries and transporting the Shagohod to its new location.

On Volgin’s helicopter are Ocelot, a member of the Ocelot Unit and an unidentified blonde female wearing glasses and a khaki uniform, complete with a short skirt, pale brown stockings and, oddly enough, black leather boots. Accompanying them are Lynch, Phil, Frank, Bob and Steve. Lynch is stood to the left of the helicopter, opposite from Volgin, gripping the side of the open door as he watches the landscape roll past under him.

Lynch: We let Big Boss die.

Steve: Yep.

Lynch [Bluntly]: …….Well, guess we better write that in our report.

Phil: “Failed mission by killing the asset we were supposed to protect”--

Lynch: We didn’t kill him!.....We just stood idly by, is all.

Phil: “Failed mission by failing to protect the asset”--

Lynch: Shut up!

Phil: Mother’s gonna have our nuts in a sling for this one.

Lynch: Not if we don’t return.

Phil: Wait, what?

Lynch: What if we don’t go back to our timeline? Let’s just…ride this one out.

Steve: You cannot be serious.

Lynch: I like my balls intact, thank you very much.

Lynch sighs, raising his head. Across from their Hind is a second Hind, the side doors open just like theirs. Standing in the open doorway is Brick, head leant out as he looks down, whooping loudly with his fishing hat in his hand.

Lynch [Angrily]: WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, REDNECK!!!

Brick [Cupping his hands over his mouth]: HEY, BOSS, THIS IS SOME OLD SHIT RIGHT HERE I TELL YA!!! HIND’S AND SHIT?!?!?

Lynch [Cupping his hands over his mouth, angrily]: SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!

Brick [Cupping his hands over his mouth]: I CAN’T HEAR YOU, THESE THINGS ARE TOO LOUD!!!! CAN YOU BELIEVE WE’RE TRANSPORTING A BIG TANK THING?!?!?!

Lynch slides the door shut with a resounding slam.

Lynch [Turning around]: I shall murder him.

Steve: Well, wait til we get back. We have a mission to complete.

Lynch: I’m mighty impatient, Steve.

Steve: Anyway, there’s probably a lot of murdering going on there anyway.

Lynch: I doubt that. We don’t murder, we get even in other ways. Sneaky, underhanded, vicious ways.

**BEALE STREET – MODERN DAY**

Back in Beale Street, Emilie gets to her feet, dusting off of her skirt.

Tavi: You alright?

Emilie: I’m going to head home. Maybe I’ll go and see Mother later.

Tavi: Are you sure about that? She’s very strict about her missions and you…Well, honey, you ain’t even trained.

Emilie: I have skills.

Tavi [Shrugging]: Either way, hon, she ain’t gonna like it.

Emilie [Smirking]: All I need is a sign and I’ll go to her.

As if at will, a few flakes of snow slowly drift from the sky, dropping on top of Emilie’s head. She looks up, watching as a small flurry of snow slowly begins to fall from the sky.

Emilie: ..Snow….

Tavi [Looking to the sky]: Snow. Never seen it before?

Emilie [Quietly]: I never knew it could fall here…

Tavi holds out her arms, feeling the snow fall as she smiles.

Tavi: The snow glows white on the mountain night. Not a footprint to be seen..A kingdom of isolation, and it looks like I’m the queen! The wind is howling like this swirling storm inside, couldn’t keep it in; Heaven knows I’ve tried! Don’t let them in, don’t let them see, be the good girl you always have to be. Conceal, don’t feel, don’t let them know…Well, now they know! Let it go! Let it go! Can’t hold it back anymore!

Emilie watches, her mouth hanging agape in slight horror.

Emilie: What are you doing?

Tavi: Singing.

Emilie slowly slides down the wall, hugging her knees to her chest and covering her ears. Crumpet places his paws over his own ears, huddling against Emilie’s neck. Tavi spins on the spot, holding out her arms.

Tavi: Let it go! Let it go! Turn away and slam the door! I don't care what they're going to say! Let the storm rage on…The cold never bothered me anyway!

The doors to the Lamb and Flag open and Stephen LaMarr takes a step outside. He stops, taking one look at Tavi before slowly shaking his head and turning back around.

Stephen LaMarr [Jabbing his thumb over his shoulder]: NAH LADS, IT’S JUST THE FURRY! SHE’S GONE FUCKING NUTS!

The doors to the Lamb and Flag are shut as Emilie starts rocking slightly.

Tavi: It's funny how some distance makes everything seem small; And the fears that once controlled me, can't get to me at aaaaalllll! It's time to see what I can do, to test the limits and break through! No right, no wrong, no rules for meeeeee, I'm freeeeeeeee!

Emilie [Quietly]: Please stop..

Tavi: Let it go! Let it go! I am one with the wind and skyyyyy! Let it go! Let it go! You’ll never see me cryyyyyy! Heeere I staaaaaaand! And heeeeere I’ll staaaaayyyyyy! Let the storm rage ooooooonnn!

The doors open once more and Maurice peers his head out, looking on in disbelief.

Maurice: Aw, fuck, he was right!

Maurice slams the door shut as Tavi ignores them, her head looking at the sky as she takes in the snow!

Tavi: My power flurries through the air into the grooouuund! My soul is spiralling in frozen fractals all aroooouuund! And one thought crystallizes like an icy blaaaaassst! I’m never going back! The past is in the paaaaaaasst! Let it go! Let it go! And I’ll rise like the break of daaaawn! Let it go! Let it go! That perfect girl is gooooone! HERE I STAND, IN THE LIGHT OF DAY!! LET THE STORM RAGE OOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!! The cold never bothered me anyway..

Tavi nods her head, snorting and tearing off her parka, tossing it aside. The entire street falls still, and sound stops within the Lamb and Flag.

Emilie [Shaking her head]: I really wish I was on this mission now.

Tavi: Sometimes, you’ve just gotta--

Emilie: Please do not say ‘let it go’.

The doors to the Lamb and Flag open and Rick Sykes head peers out, looking at Tavi.

Rick Sykes: Was that you singing that shitty fucking song from a shitty fucking film?

Tavi: Yes.

Rick Sykes [Shaking his head]: You, woman, have issues. Don’t fucking do that again.

Rick slams the doors to the Lamb and Flag shut. Tavi grins wickedly.

Tavi: Say, Emilie, do you want to play a little prank?

Emilie: Does it involve these troglodytes?

Tavi [Evilly]: Yes. Very much so.

Emilie: Then yes, please! I would enjoy it much more than singing!

Tavi reaches into her back pocket, pulling out a small, rotund ball with a black fuse: A cherry bomb. With her free hand, she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a box of matches, looking around. She turns around and stops: In the alleyway opposite is a dearth of building materials, remnants of when Al and Dick had a variety of competitions to see who could outdo the other and score the most visitors. Tavi nods towards the alleyway, specifically a pile of six pieces of lumber peering just out of the entrance.

Tavi: Grab a plank, Emilie.

Emilie [Grinning goofily]: Oh my goodness! I have not experienced such fun for a long time!

Emilie trots quickly over to the alleyway, grasping a slender plank of wood which she quickly pulls out, revealing its relatively short, roughly two feet in length. Holding it in both hands, she quickly turns around and walks back over to Tavi.

Tavi: See those door handles? Put it through them.

Emilie: Post haste!

Emilie slots the plank through the door handles, effectively barring the door shut. Emilie claps her hands, grinning brightly. Tavi holds the cherry bomb out to Emilie who takes it before lighting a match, also handing it towards Emilie.

Tavi: Emilie. The honours go to you.

Emilie lights the cherry bomb, placing it delicately at the foot of the door before both her and Tavi scuttle away a few feet, watching. After a few moments, a small explosion scars the air. Tavi and Emilie listen closely as the sounds of dozens of boots hit the wooden floor, growing louder before being punctuated by the sound of thudding and yelping, the door shuddering and shaking as dozens of bodies slam into it.

Tavi [Grinning, nodding]: They truly are their son’s fathers.

Emilie: What now?

Tavi: Let’s go. They will find a way out. Until then, let us enjoy the New Year.

Tavi and Emilie walk up the street. A few moments later, Boris Hellgenstrand dives through the right-hand window which shatters violently. He rolls through, quickly getting to his feet and looking around.

Boris Hellgenstrand: WHO GOES THERE—

Boris is flattened as David Ross leaps through the broken window, tackling him to the ground…

**RUSSIAN AIRSPACE – 1964**

The mercenaries look around, confused at hearing voices of known comrades seemingly emerge from the ether.

Phil [Cocking an eyebrow]: We shouldn’t have been able to hear that. I guess the time streams are awfully fragile.

Steve: Well, considering we’re converging two different points of time, I’m surprised the weakness of the time stream isn’t more pronounced. Like, where we fight velociraptors.

Bob: Does the Man in the Banana Suit count?

Steve: I notice how we never ran into him this year.

Lynch [Mumbling]: Give it fucking time..

Phil: Man, that sounds exciting.

Steve: Fighting velociraptors does not sound all too exciting to me.

The mercenaries watch as Volgin drops to his knees, letting out a hissing rumble of laughter as he flips open the gun crates: One reveals a small, red nuclear warhead, and the other a missile launcher of some description.

Phil: Ooo, new toy, Colonel?

Volgin slowly rises to his feet, clasping a large handle on the launcher.

Volgin: Excellent. A great success! Thanks to the Boss and her Cobras, I have Sokolov and the Shagohod…

Lynch: We helped.

Volgin: You certainly did. And your reward is not dying.

Steve: I find that to be a highly underrated reward.

Ocelot sniffs the air audibly before rising from his seat, turning to the young blonde and moving behind Volgin.

Ocelot: What are we going to do with the girl?

Volgin [Looking over his shoulder]: Who is she?

Ocelot: Apparently, she’s Sokolov woman.

Phil: No fucking chance!

Volgin turns, walking towards her. The woman shuffles away, turning her head away, but Volgin grasps her chin and pulls her head to face him.

Volgin: She’s a nice catch. I’ll take her.

The woman slowly reaches for her skirt pocket.

Bob [Pointing]: SHE GOT A GUN!

Volgin quickly grabs her arm, pulling it towards him to reveal a tube of lipstick. Volgin takes it and opens it to reveal no lipstick, but instead a small barrel.

Volgin: A kiss of death? Well, you were half-right.

Ocelot: Are you KGB?

Lynch: CIA?

Phil: MI-Five?

Volgin: Either way, we may be able to use her.

Volgin grasps her hand again, forcing the ‘lipstick’ tube into it.

Volgin: She has spunk.

Phil sniggers. Volgin reaches inside the metal crates, loading the nuclear warhead into the launcher.

Frank: Just don’t, Phil.

Phil: What? I was agreeing with him.

Lynch [Quietly]: Goddammit Phil, stop agreeing with the enemy!

Phil [Whispering]: Look, if they haven’t killed us yet, I refuse to class them as an enemy. And will you shut up? We’re double agents now.

Ocelot: Shall we take her back to base?

Volgin: Well, we have no further use for Sokolov’s research facility and I wish to test out this new toy. Any objections, please raise them.

Lynch [Quietly]: Me.

Volgin: Why are you so quiet?

Phil: My commanding officer seems to wish to express his hesitancy at launching a nuke into that jungle.

Lynch scowls. Volgin walks over to the side of the Hind, aiming the launcher out of it.

Volgin: Any objections? I repeat, any objections?

Ocelot and Lynch [In unison]: I--

Volgin: Overruled.

Ocelot: But Colonel, even if they are our enemies, they are still our countrymen!

Volgin: I’m well aware of that. But I’m not the one pulling the trigger: It’s our friend, the American defector.

Ocelot [Angrily, grasping Volgin]: YOU’RE GOING TO NUKE YOUR FELLOW RUSSIANS!!!

Volgin shoves Ocelot, causing him to stumble to the right and hit the floor.  Volgin simply girds himself.

Volgin: Remember the Alamo.

Lynch: Davy Crockett never fired no nukes.

Phil: I’m sure if he had a nuke, he’d have launched it right up Santa Anna’s arse.

Volgin: Exactly.

Lynch [Angrily]: Phil!!

Volgin: So, there are no objections?

Lynch: THERE ARE--

Volgin: Overruled.

Volgin presses the button on the handle. With a huge explosion and a burst of smoke, the warhead surges forward from the launcher. After a few moments, a fiery mushroom cloud rises from the jungle, sending a shockwave cascading towards them. The fleet shudders somewhat, but remains resolute as it continues to fly forward.

Lynch [Angrily]: WHY MUST YOU KEEP SAYING OVERRULED?!?

Volgin: My word is law. Yours is not. And while I appreciate that Kosygin has brought you here, I will not appreciate further insubordination.

Lynch walks away, clutching his lower jaw in shock and irritability, marching to the opposite side of the helicopter and folding his arms. Frank walks over, hands in his pockets.

Frank [Quietly]: Lynch?

Lynch: Snake’s still down there.

Frank: Is he dead?

Lynch: I hope not, otherwise we basically just fucked this up in record time.

Frank [Quietly]: Nah, he’s gotta be alive. Gotta be.

Lynch: I fucking hope you’re right..

The helicopters fly into the sunset, the scene fading to black.

Saga III Chapter V - Shades of Eternal Battlefields (Our Academy Fell)

**SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA*

San Francisco: Even in this strange new world of global war and PMC's, San Francisco remains a bastion of culture and acceptance. In comparison to the world outside of it, in fact, San Francisco may be one of the last surviving bastions of kindness and humanity left on a planet ripped apart by war.

On Union Street, sitting outside Rogue Ales, in a wooden chair at a small square wooden table, is Frank Daniels. His usual untrimmed moustache appears to have been overwhelmed by a full beard, and he's wearing a garish combination of a tweed grey flat cap, a red Hawaiian shirt, barely buttoned to reveal a hairy chest, and a pair of red bermuda shirts, as well as white socks and leather sandals. Uncaring as to his fashion faux pas, Frank simply sips at a pint glass of Chocolate Stout and watching the world go by.

Frank [Quietly]: Ah, yes, a man could get used to this..

Frank's moment of zen is disturbed as a flier blows past him. Reaching out, Frank swiftly grabs it and turns it over, glancing at it. The black flier shows a picture of the moustachioed face of Will Studlin, his fellow mercenary, surrounded by a bevy of beautiful women. The title, written in pink, states crudely "Will In Pussy Wonderland 8". Frank looks down at the flier in disbelief at the fact that such pornography would be openly advertised, accompanied by a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that this is some kind of sign that his day is about to be ruined quite swiftly. That feeling, alas, is completely correct.

Will's Voice: Get off that flier! I wanted a pretty lady to catch it!

As if by the cruelty of some vindictive bastard of a God, Frank looks to his left, watching as Will Studlin walks towards him. Wearing a vile suit of bright lime green with a black shirt and white leather shoes, Frank winces from the very sight. Will puts his hands on his pockets, looking down at Frank.

Frank: Look who escaped jail from the fashion police.

Will: God, I thought i'd escaped you.

Frank [Scoffing]: I'm on holiday, Will! I need this!

Will: So, this is where the fifty thousand Ocelot gave us is going?

Frank [Shrugging]: Nothing wrong with Cali.

Will: I was talking about the beer.

Frank: Nothing wrong with the beer, either.

Will: Tell me, Frank: Do you like or....hell, DO anything other than drink?

Frank [Shrugging]: I collect firearms.

Will: That's it? Booze and guns? That's your life? Fuck, you sound like the average Marine. All you need is the inflated sense of self importance and you'll be all "SEMPER FI HOO-RAH".

Frank [Impatiently]: Look, I don't know you being a fuckwit around here, so tell me: What are you doing here?

Will: What are you doing he--

Frank: I asked first.

Will: ....Alright, I'm here in San Francisco to promote my.....new film.

Frank: Wow. That's awfully progressive of you.

Will: Say what.

Frank [Glancing down at the flier]: Well, we're in San Francisco, one of the most progressive cities on the planet and renowned for homosexual acceptance and its allegiance with the Pride movement--

Will [Quickly]: Woah, woah, woah! Don't get me wrong, i'm not a homophobe, but it's not that kind of film!

Frank: ....It's not?

Will: Nah, just kidding, it is. But there's only one other guy in it!

Frank [Shaking his head, laughing]: Say no more, Will, say no more.

Will: What are you doing here?

Frank [Holding up his beer]: Holiday. I'm drinking across California! Next stop, the big one: Los Angeles!

Will: Well, good for you, I best be off now--

Frank [Quickly]: Why don't you pull up a seat? Maybe i'll find you less of a asshole if we talk! I'll get you a drink, even.

Will [Sneering]: I already have a drink.

Frank: So, that's what's in your purse?

Will [Angrily]: It's a fucking satchel!!

Will reaches in, pulling out a transparent Starbucks cup filled with a lurid pink liquid. Frank winces slightly, looking at it.

Frank: Damn, didn't realise Starbucks had the market cornered on sugary shit. I thought it was just bitter, burnt and overpriced coffee filled with cream, sugar and syrup.

Will: This isn't just any drink: It's a Cotton Candy Frappucino. From their SECRET menu.

Frank: The secret menu? REALLY?

Will: Quiet, peasant.

Frank [Laughing]: You know who orders stuff from the secret menu? Fourteen year old girls and fat, lonely, middle-aged women.

Will [Angrily]: I SAID QUIET!!!

Frank: Fuck, you're pathetic. I bet they hated you and spit in your cup for ordering it.

Will: They made it, that's all that matters.

Frank: Not if they dunked their balls in it.

Will: Will you shut up?!

Frank laughs, only for a familiar figure to stroll past, wearing a grey t-shirt, a black M82 military jacket and a pair of jeans with sneakers: The skinny figure, with his glum face and demeanour, is unmistakably Thomas "Bob" Benito.

Frank: Hey!

Bob stops beside them, looking down at their table and forcing a small smile.

Bob: ...Oh...hi guys....

Frank: Hi Bob.

Bob: ........So....

Frank: Pull up a seat!

Will [Sighing]: Really? With the manic depressive?

Frank: Be nice! It's nice to be together. After all, we fight together, why shouldn't we have a few drinks together?

Will: We only fight together because we got strongarmed into fighting for the Reject Company.

Bob: ......Well, alright.

Bob sits in the seat at the foot of the table, looking at both Frank and Will.

Will: ....So...

Frank takes a sip of beer.

Frank: Why don't you order drinks? This place does some amazing beer.

Will: Not for me.

Bob: I'm fine.

Frank: Well.....we're here.

Bob: Yep.

Frank takes a drink of beer. Will looks around and Bob shuffles uncomfortably.

Will: Well...

Bob: It's...It's Steve!

Bob points across the street: Crossing over the road towards them is Steve, wearing a rainbow tye-dye shirt, a pair of jeans and sneakers, his rucksack still slung over his shoulders. The rucksack is bulging, and now appears to be covered with several badges, the decor complimented by a rainbow LGBT Pride flag wound around one of the straps over his shoulder. Crossing over the road, Steve glances at them, nods and walks up the street to his left.

Steve: Hi guys.

Steve whistles to himself, walking past their table.

Steve [Stopping and looking over at them]: ...Holiday?

Frank: Holiday.

Steve: Yep, holiday. Just crossing places off of my bucket list.

Steve stands there, looking around and nodding slightly.

Frank: ....Join us for a drink?

Steve: Sorry guys, i'm heading off to snap a few pictures of Alcatraz before heading off to Mexico.

Will [Pointing at the rucksack]: Didn't know you were gay.

Steve: Bisexual. Besides, It's nice to have mementos of your trip. Better than drinking yourself into a coma.

Frank [Raising his glass]: Only mildly buzzed but i'm hoping to fix that!

Steve: Frank, man, you really should get checked out for PTSD, we're all sure you're just drinking to forget.

Frank: In my defence, I forgot was I supposed to forget.

Bob: He's got a point: Frank remembers nothing.

Frank: I don't even remember if I have a mother or a father.

Steve [Sighing]: That's definitely PTSD.

Will: Frank, man, you should find a woman. That'll help.

Frank: Why?

Will: Well, you won't be drinking yourself to death because you're a lonely, pathetic loser.

Frank [Scowling]: Fuck off, Will, i'm fine. Besides, I had--

Will: Don't you start that stuff: That was a symbiotic relationship and you know it. She was fucking psychotic.

Frank: Oh yeah? And what about Raging Raven?!

Will: That was...................fun.

Bob: Yeah, righ--

Will [Angrily]: And don't you start that stuff either, you were with a woman who took pleasure from pain! I'm guessing she tied you to the bed and dripped hot candle wax onto your chest too while she had your balls tied in--

Steve [Pushing his chair away from the table]: Right, well, I'm going to go. I've heard enough for more than one lifetime.

Steve gets to his feet, hauling his rucksack up and walking down the street.

Frank: For fucks sake, Will!

Bob [Calmly]: And for your answer: She did.

Frank [Wincing]: You motherfuckers need Jesus.

Frank shudders slightly, continuing to drink his pint as a woman walks out of the shop. A pale Hispanic woman, with jet black hair slicked up and back over her scalp, strolls out, wearing a black tanktop with thin shoulder straps and a pair of urban camouflage pants with black leather boots. Walking past Franks table, she sits at the table to his right, clutching a pint of lager. The woman glances over at Frank who gives a small nod back.

Will: Try tipping your hat.

Frank: Fuck off.

Will: Men's rights activist.

Frank: Ugly fuckface.

Frank [Smirking]: She's pretty hot.

Will [Laughing]: Like you have a chance with any woman who isn't psychotic and wants to kill you.

Frank looks over at the woman, who is busy drinking her beer, before sighing and looking at Will.

Frank: Y'know, your words hurt--

Will: They're supposed to. Tough love, sunshine! If it wasn't for me, all of your egos would block out the sun!

Frank [Laughing in disbelief]: OUR egos? You have an ego the size of Jupiter! You're the most arrogant son of a bitch i've ever met!

Will: And women love it!

Frank: They don't.

Will: They do.

Frank [Impatiently]: They don't!

Bob: Why can't we just be nice to eachother?

Will [Getting to his feet]: You want nice? YOU WANT NICE?!

Bob [Looking up]: ....Well, yeah.

Will: ....Alright, follow me, you two little bitches, we're going to Las Vegas!

Will snaps his heels together, spinning around and walking up the street. Bob and Frank get to their feet, looking at eachother and shrugging in unison.

Frank: As long as he's paying.

Bob: And taking us there.

Frank: Maybe he'll gamble too much, get in trouble with the Mafia and end up being shot!

Bob: Uh, sure, that too.

Bob and Frank jog up the street after Will..

**WHITBY, ENGLAND**

In Whitby, Jericho and Emilie are together within a small bedroom. This little hotel bedroom, situated in The Marine Hotel, is the perfect place for the unorthodox couple. With a sizeable queen bed decorated with white and black linen and beige pillows, flanked by two black endtables with lamps upon them and a desk at the foot of the bed, the room is decorated impressively. A floral red couch sitting close to the foot of the bed, turned to face a small black table which a flatscreen television is perched on, standing beside a wardrobe with a mirror attached to the front of it. Emilie is busy curling locks of her bright red hair, gazing into the mirror as Jericho sits on the edge of the bed, tying the shoelaces of his brown leather brogues.

Jericho [Quietly]: I wish we could stay here.

Emilie: One day, we will be able to. Until then, let's just enjoy the moment.

Jericho: I'm trying, love. I really am.

Emilie: Then try harder. We're here: Ignore whatever torments you.

Jericho: I just don't fancy going back into the bloody Middle East.

Emilie: None of us do.

Jericho: Don't mind saying that i'm getting sick of this global war malarkey. Can't wait until it's all over.

Emilie [Chuckling]: Don't we all, dear?

Jericho stands up, walking behind Emilie who turns around, giving a small smile.

Jericho: So, what do we do?

Emilie: Enjoy it.

Jericho [Quietly, leaning forward]: When the fuck do we tell the others that you know how to access the Dejanel family fortune?

Emilie: We don't. We keep it for ourselves.

Jericho: Seriously?

Emilie [Smirking]: Yes. When this global war ends, we retire with it. No more of this dreadful killing business and certainly no more vile sand in my hair. Enjoyable for the both of us, don't you think?

Jericho: Sounds right.

Emilie: Good. Now, let us go: I'm hungry.

Jericho: Alright, i've heard of a place Phil recommended here.

Emilie: I do hope it's good.

Jericho: Well, Phil recommended it so..................Fuck it, let's just see it and hope it isn't filled with drunks trying to kill eachother.

Jericho and Emilie leave their room, heading outside and onto Pier Road, the main road

Heading left out of the doors, Jericho and Emilie  walk forward, sticking to the path in front of them and strolling past a small shop selling various beach equipment including buckets, spades and quaint handheld windmills. Continuing forward past a small kiosk selling ice creams, the town itself appears quite empty in spite of the summer, leaving somewhat empty paths stretching ahead of them with the few tourists sat outside restaurants and pubs across the road from them.

Jericho [Looking around]: Huh. Not so full.

Emilie: Strange, isn't it?

Jericho: Normally it's crowded in summer...It was yesterday..

Emilie [Shrugging]: Such is life: It ebbs and flows.

Jericho: It's just....strange.

Emilie: Don't let it bother you, dear. You let too much bother you.

Jericho: When you're fighting to save the world, you kind of have to let everything weigh on your mind.

As they continuing walking down the street, Jericho stops, looking up at a looming white building across the street, the words "THE MAGPIE CAFE" clear on the side of the building in large black letters. Though a queue normally extends up the stone steps outside the door and into the restaurant itself, the queue appears to be, thankfully, absent as Jericho and Emilie cross the road, walking towards the restaurant.

Jericho: Well, here it is: The Magpie Cafe. Phil always recommended this place and I guess we'll see the hype.

Emilie: It does look quite nice.

Jericho: Well then...let's check it out.

Emilie [Smirking]: Maybe you shouldn't doubt your friends.

Jericho: Come on, i've seen the man eat baked beans out of a tin. Cold. With his HANDS. He's hardly a culinary genius.

Walking up the stone steps and into the cafe, Emilie and Jericho approach the counter, where a young woman with blonde hair, wearing a black polo shirt with the Magpie Cafe logo on it.

Jericho: Table for two please, love.

Hostess: Right this way, sir.

The hostess leads them into a small room to the left with five circular wooden tables. Led to a table beside an unlit iron fireplace with two seats, Jericho and Emilie sit down at the table. The hostess sets down a pair of menus, as well as two laminated sheets that make up the drinks menu, which they take.

Jericho [Looking around]: Bloody hell. This ain't half bad. Even got flowers on the table.

Emilie: And they're not plastic, either.

A waitress approaches the table.

Waitress: Can I get you any drinks?

Jericho: Aye, sure, get me a bottle of Baytown Bitter.

Emilie: And i'll have a glass of the Sauvignon Blanc, Gran Hacienda white wine.

Waitress: Got it.

As the waitress leaves the table, Jericho looks blankly at the ceiling. Emilie watches him, curling one of her locks slightly as she does.

Emilie: Penny for your thoughts.

Jericho: Nothing, just daydreaming of the day when we can move out together.

Emilie: That reminds me: Those men you live with......Do you not like them? You seem to have grown distant from them lately.

Jericho [Sighing somewhat]: ...They....They're brothers to me. Y'know...it's complicated....I mean, to me,they are brothers. Me and Phil, we actually go back. Way back before being mercenaries. Before the company was a thing, even. Do you know when we first met?

Emilie: Go on.

Jericho [Laughing slightly]: On a piss-up in Manchester. Me and a few lads are sitting there, having a drink, and there's this lad sitting in a corner. On leave from the Royal Engineers, so he's in uniform, and he's quiet. Real quiet. He had two drinks on the table in front of him, and he's sitting there. A few moments later he gets up, pats me on the shoulder and points over to the table, saying that I can have the drink cause he got stood up by a mate of his. Can you believe that?

Emilie: What happened?

Jericho: Told him to bring the drink over and he did. And we talked. And got completely hammered. And that's it, really. We met a few times after that, actually. All involving alcohol.

Emilie: And you were in the Academy together?

Jericho: Phil was sent over to the Academy about...a month....two months?......after I arrived. Around a month and a half, let's say. Guess it was fate that we got lumped together in the same class.

Emilie: What about the others? Steve and Ivan?

Jericho: Steve? I've never got to talk to Steve much. But I do love him like a brother too. He's a rare breed: Never really loses his temper, takes everything in his stride. Probably one of the strongest of our company mentally, which is saying something, considering his past brain damage BUT...he's a nice lad. He was quiet in the Academy, too.

Emilie: Good..

Jericho: And Ivan? That lad is a goddamn hoot to be around, he really is. Honestly, ever since meeting him, he's amazed me. Lovely lad. We have history too, first met him in the Academy, we were there since day one when they were pumping him full of nanomachines just to stop his brain from melting. He's a bloody laugh riot, one of the strongest lads there. Man, there was this time when he snuck into the cafeteria and blew up an industrial blender using dynamite. It was after that when we FINALLY stopped getting served shitty creamed corn in the Academy and started getting proper frozen stuff in.

Emilie: Isn't he the one subjected to frankly lethal doses of radiation?

Jericho [Quietly]: .........Yeah.....The nanomachines are keeping him alive...Stopping the cancer from multiplying and overwhelming his body...

Emilie: I'm sorry..

Jericho: Don't be, he's going to remain alive for a good while. I hope we grow old together, cause I can imagine that crazy Russian bastard as an old man. He won't tell kids to get off his lawn: He'll use dynamite and blow them away! Man, I remember the time we were on a training mission in Japan. We were in a hot springs and the son of a bitch used a grenade to create a geyser. Then he stands in the middle of the plume, singing "It's Raining Men"! Man, we weren't allowed into ANY hot springs after that.....mostly because Coach Fury was trying to relax in the same hot springs....but it was fucking funny! And that time in Libya where we had the sheep and--

Emilie [Calmly]: Sounds like you're not ready to leave them..

Jericho [Sighing quietly]: .............I'm not....I just wish....I could tell them how much I liked them. I really do.

Emilie: Why can't you?

Jericho: I dunno. It's difficult.

Emilie: How so?

Jericho: It just feels forced from me, honestly. Like...sarcasm....Like I wouldn't be able to convince them that's how I feel.

Jericho sighs, glancing down at his plate.

Jericho: I just wish....I could tell them...

Russian Voice: But you already have.

Jericho slowly raises his head, looking over his left shoulder: Standing behind him, with a napkin tucked into the collar of his white t-shirt, is Crazy Ivan. Still bald, still stubbled and still scarred, Ivan gives a bright grin, looking down at Jericho.

Ivan: And here I vas, eating, ven I heard your voice. And all the things you said about me. Vell, I love you too.

Jericho [Shakily]: How..long...were you listening?!

Ivan [Grinning]: Heard it all.

Jericho: Oh, bollocks.

Ivan: You are good man, friend.

Jericho: Uh...yeah...sure...

Ivan places his hands on Jericho's shoulders.

Ivan: Ve are good friends.

Jericho: Yeah...

Ivan [Leaning down, pulling Jericho closer and kissing his cheek]: I LOVE YOU, ENGLISH!!!

Jericho [Quietly]: I need a fucking vacation.

Emilie [Smiling wryly]: You're on one: Enjoy it.

**NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK**

Over in New York City, Dean, Karab, Samuel, Bobby and Kane are busy on the hunt for the succubus, having failed to reach a resolution to their case in the last episode. For now, the four men and one man-dog...thing...are lounging in the suite of the Adamska Hotel, where Dean and Samuel found the murdered victim of the supposed succubus.

On the first floor, their room is fit only for two people, leading to a somewhat cramped situation. A single bed, which Dean is sat on, lays against the wall to the right upon entering the room. Across the room for it, beneath a single window, is a couch that Samuel is laying on, gazing at the ceiling. Between the bed and couch, Karab is sitting cross-legged on the floor, looking across the room and watching a television perched on a small desk. Bobby is sat on the edge of Dean's bed, while Kane is laid on the floor at the foot of the desk, gazing at the ceiling.

Kane: What are we doing?

Samuel: Trying to find a succubus.

Kane: ....That's just stu--

Dean [Interjecting]: Before you finish that sentence, I hope you're aware that you're a walking, talking dog.

Kane: ............Point taken. But we're not doing anything.

Bobby: I'm waiting for a call.

Dean: Regarding what?

Bobby: Anything. I've got a contact in the NYPD who's promised to give me any information as it comes up regarding bodies in the area.

Dean: What if the succubus has moved--

Bobby [Angrily]; JUST TRUST ME, DAMMIT!

Dean: Hey, Bobby, you know I do, it's just--

Samuel: Don't, Dean. Just.......don't.

Bobby's mobile phone rings suddenly. Bobby quickly answers it.

Bobby: What is it?..............Right.................I see.........................................I see. Okay.

Bobby hangs up the mobile phone, appearing oddly calm.

Kane [Looking over]: That doesn't look good.

Bobby [Quietly]: They've called in another body.

Dean: Drained?

Bobby: Drained.

Samuel: Where is it?

Bobby [Angrily]: IN THIS FUCKING HOTEL!!!

Dean: Wait, WHAT?!

Bobby throws the phone onto the floor, storming up to his feet and unsheathing a bowie knife from his waist.

Bobby [Angrily]: Third floor. They just called it in!!

Dean: Aw, piss, we're not very good at this hunting lark.

Bobby: You're goddamn right you ain't!

Dean: Why didn't you sense it?!

Bobby: Why didn't you?!

Dean: Why didn't Karab?!

Karab: Don't bring me into this!

Bobby snorts, storming up to his feet and walking towards the door.

Bobby [Impatiently]: Follow me, you waste of space!

Bobby kicks the door open, storming over to the elevator as Karab gets to his feet, automatically following Bobby. Dean sighs loudly, shrugging.

Dean: I don't want to be a hunter anymore..

Samuel: Too bad, this is the life that you chose.

Dean sighs, rolling off of the bed and landing on all fours before pushing himself to his feet, sighing loudly.

Dean: Well, I don't want it anymore.

Samuel [Getting to his feet]: Too bad.

Dean walks over to Kane, tapping his feathery tail with the tip of his shoe.

Dean: Oi, furball, get up.

Kane [Calmly]: My name is Kane, if you don't mind.

Samuel: You'll have to forgive Dean, he's from a different time.

Dean: No i'm not--COME ON! He's a fucking furry! He's a walking talking Saluki! It's not fucking normal!

Kane: I know that, but you could at least call me by the name I was given.

Samuel: Come on, Dean, just use his name.

Dean: Fine. Kane, get up, you fucking fur--

Samuel clasps his left hand over Dean's mouth as Kane gets to his feet.

Samuel: Forgive him.

Bobby [Angrily]; MOVE IT, YOU PAIR OF BABIES!!!

Samuel, Dean and Kane hurry out of the room, crowding into the elevator as Bobby presses the button for the fifth floor. The elevator goes up two floors before stopping, the doors opening: For some reason, the NYPD aren't stationed on the floor, and the door ahead of them is slightly ajar with a simple orange traffic cone standing in front of it, as if to deter visitors. Bobby steps out of the elevator, walking forward, grabbing the cone and throwing it aside, pushing the door open.

Kane [Stepping out of the elevator]: Is it..normal for there to be no police around?

Bobby: NYPD isn't paying much attention to this case anymore. They've got bigger fish to fry.

Dean: Side effect of having PMC's running around and shooting shit. Always got to clean up after them.

Kane: Why even have a police force anyway if Praying Mantis runs this place?

Samuel [Walking out of the elevator]: We don't know. We guess it's to keep up appearances, mostly. Some even think that the NYPD is their own little PMC.

Kane:.....Really?

Dean: Well, it'd explain the average mortality rate of the streets being two hours.

Dean, Samuel, Kane and Karab walk into the room. To their left lies a single bed and, as they suspected, a naked corpse, with a thin blanket thankfully covering its groin region, is laying there, the pale skin sunken and almost leathery, but with an oddly serene grin on the corpses face.

Karab [Looking at the body]: Again, the dead look happier than me.

Samuel walks over to a table opposite the bed and against the wall, searching through a pile of various papers as the others walk into the room, looking over at the body.

Kane [Looking at the body]: Oh, there it is!

Samuel: Yeah, he's dead.

Bobby walks over to the body, gripping the head of the corpse and pulling it back, revealing a deep vertical gash from beneath the chin to the top of the windpipe, practically drained of all of its blood.

Bobby [Quietly]: Pretty much identical to how the others were killed.

Dean audibly sniffs the air, looking at Kane who is wrinkling his nose somewhat irritably.

Dean: Do you smell that too, furry boy?

Kane: Mm. Rotten eggs.

Samuel steps away from the table, squatting down and picking up what appears to be a very small bundle of leather fabric. Getting to his feet, Samuel unfurls them, revealing them to be very skimpy leather panties.

Samuel: Uhhh....this is new.

Dean: What have you found?

Samuel: Panties. Used panties.

Dean: Well, sniff 'em.

Samuel [Taken aback]: What?!

Dean: If they smell of sulphur, they must be succubus panties.

Samuel [Holding his hand towards Dean]: Fuck you, YOU smell them!

Dean: Alright.

Dean takes the panties and lifts them to his nose, taking a deep breath. Samuel, Bobby, Karab and Kane watch in shock and disgust as Dean's right eye twitches and he starts coughing before nodding.

Dean [Retching slightly]: Yep, sulphur!!

Karab: What in the actual fuck is wrong with you?!

Dean: We had to check!

Karab: Surely there was another way, you sick fuck?!

Dean: Oh, did you have a better way of checking?!

Samuel walks back over to the table, grabbing a sheet of paper and holding it over to Bobby who snatches it up: A bloody fingerprint is marked on the map, which appears to be of the mainland United States, directly within the state boundaries of Louisiana.

Bobby: Only one marking. Deliberate?

Samuel: Conveniently so, I guess.

Dean: Are you fucking kidding me?

Samuel: No, the map's marked for Louisiana.

Dean [Sighing]: Great, we're heading deep into redneck country.

Bobby: Come on, we've got to put this fucking thing down.

Bobby shoves the door open, walking out and towards the elevator.

Dean: No, we're not going to fucking Louisiana!

Samuel: We have to.

Karab: Yes, because we're hunting a succubus. For some reason.

Samuel: This was the life you wanted to follow if you weren't a failed soldier, Dean. You wanted to be a hunter, and now we're hunting.

Dean [Whining]: But it's shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!!!

Karab: Oh, man the fuck up, will you?!

Karab storms outside as Dean watches in surprise.

Samuel: He has a point, Dea--

Dean [Coldly]: Fuck off. I'm onto you.

Dean follows Karab outside, and is followed by Samuel and Kane. The elevator doors have shut, indicating that Bobby has already decided to leave the bickering children alone and go for the Impala without them. After a few seconds, the doors open and Karab, Dean, Samuel and Kane step inside. As Dean steps inside, Samuel sniffs the air audibly.

Karab [Sniffing the air as well]: You smell that?

Samuel: Yeah, it's.....................it's.......................................[Somewhat disgusted] Dean, did you pocket those succubus panties?

Dean: I thought Kane could track the scent.

Kane [Coldly]: I will claw out your fucking colon if you put those things anywhere

near my nose.

Dean [Angrily]: LET'S JUST GO!!

Samuel: Dean, why do you still have them?

Dean [Angrily]: SHUT UP!!!

Dean punches the button of the elevator, inadvertantly breaking the control panel.

Samuel [Calmly]: Well, that was foolish of you. Now we have to take the stairs.

Dean screams, running out of the elevator, twisting left and sprinting down the hallway.

Kane: Is he always like this?

Karab: An angry manchild?

Kane: Yeah.

Karab [Nodding]: Pretty much.

**MEMPHIS, TENNESSEE**

Outside Memphis in Tennessee sits the Mercenary Academy of the United States. Churning out recruits slowly and used mostly to host those even too useless to be shipped off to the Middle East, the Academy is little more than the United Nation's idea of planting a flag in American soil. Though the Academy has regularly been fought over by Ocelot's own PMC's, it faces an entirely new threat from a war machine heading from the South.

Roughly a mile east of the Academy is a small hill, standing on which stands a young man, clutching a pair of binoculars and looking directly at the front doors of the Academy. The man, oddly enough, is wearing a garish, full length officers coat which is leather and dyed with multiple vertical stripes of varying colours, making it resemble a rainbow. With smooth and heavily tanned skin, a scalp of spiked black hair and a soul patch hanging from his lower lip, the figure looks truly out of place in the middle of redneck country. This is emphasized by the fact that, behind him, countless men and women are dressed in flak jackets, with alternating military jackets of yellow, blue, green and white over them. The dull chatter in Portuguese across the contingent of soldiers suggests that this is a Brazilian PMC.

Nodding his head, the man slowly lowers his binoculars.

Figure [Raising his right hand]: LET US GO IN AND SHOW THEM HOW REAL WARRIORS FIGHT!!!! COBRAS FUMANTES, MY DEAR PMC, LET US FIGH--

The group falls silent as, to their right, the "Brew On The Mo'e" wagon rolls up beside them, the serving window facing them as Phil's grinning face leers out.

Phil [Ecstatically]: DANIEL, YOU CUNT!!! IT'S ME!!!

Daniel: Oh God.

Phil: Well, if it ain't the Rainbow Warrior himself! Planning to storm the Academy, I see.

Daniel: We're neutral, friend. We need the weaponry and they have it. Once we have seized their weaponry, we will leave them alone, BUT WE WILL ANNEX TEXAS, TENNESSEE AND NEW MEXICO FOR THE BRAVE SOUTH AMERICAN PEOPLE WHO FIGHT EVERY SINGLE DAY OF THEIR LIVES!!!!!

A huge roar goes up from Cobras Fumantes as they raise their rifles into the airs.

Phil: Good luck: With that fucking coat, they probably know you're here.

Daniel [Coldly]: I like this coat.

Phil: Why not join us, man? Don't attack the Academy!

Daniel [Coldly]: MY LOYALTY BELONGS TO BRASIL AND THE BRASILIAN PEOPLE!!! NOT TO A FACELESS ACADEMY THAT BELONGS TO THE UNITED NATIONS!!!!!

A huge roar goes up from Cobras Fumentes once again.

Phil [Raising his arms]: Alrighty then, i'll let you get on with what you've got to do.

Daniel: Good. You sit there, white boy, and watch as the proud Latinos and Latinas make their--

Phil: Woah, let's hold off with the racism there.

Daniel [Raising his pistols into the air]: THE SNAKE WILL SMOKE!!!!!!!!!!! CHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

With a bellowing war cry, Cobras Fumentes begin to sprint down the hill. Wave after wave of this armed group consisting mostly of young men and women head down the hill. Daniel aims down his pistols, firing both rapidly and cackling loudly. Phil simply stands there, watching as even more of Cobras Fumentes charge forward, the number of soldiers clearly in the thousands as a huge wave of bodies heads down the hill and towards the Academy.

Phil [Taken aback]: Motherfuckers mobilised an army.

Daniel reaches the chainlink fence surrounding the Academy. He stops suddenly, watching as the guards in the two guardtowers flanking both sides of the gate simply disappear from view, the gate swinging open mere seconds later.

Daniel [Calling up]: THANK YOU!!

Guard In Right Guard Tower [Yelling down, in distinct Liverpudlian accent]: GO'WAN LAD, ASSAULT THE FOOKIN' ACADEMY! WE FOOKIN' HATE IT HERE!!!

Guard In Left Guard Tower [Yelling down, in distinct Cockney accent]: IT'S BLOODY SHITE HERE! THEY DON'T PAY US, WE BARELY GET FED AND THE LOCALS ARE A BUNCH OF FUCKIN' WEIRDOS! THE COACHES ARE RIGHT CUNTS TOO! COME IN!

Phil [Watching]: Welp, I heard that the Academy had trouble with morale, but this takes the biscuit.

Daniel and several of the Cobras Fumentes soldiers charge through the open gates, amassing outside of the doors. A towering man, at least seven feet tall whose skin is deeply bronzed and his hair slicked back in a ponytail, stomps forward, ripping off his white military jacket and grasping the handles of both doors, practically ripping them open. As soon as Cobras Fumentes rushes into the Academy, gunfire explodes out momentarily before stopping just as quickly. Out of the front doors stroll several figures wearing urban camouflage, indicating that they are students within the Academy. Carrying M16A2 rifles on their back, they simply walk out, shrugging and shaking their heads.

Phil: So much for fighting, then.

Pounding drum and bass music begins to play, accompanied by the sight of strobe lights emitting from the windows of the Academy. On the roof, Daniel emerges, waving a Brazilian flag as several more students simply begin to file out of the Academy. One of them, a young African-American woman, has an American flag draped over her shoulders. The students simply head up the hill, walking past Phil's van.

First Male Recruit [With a Brooklyn accent[: Well, that's the Academy dead. Guess that's what happens when all of your Drill Sergeants--Oh, sorry, COACHES....are too busy drinking themselves into a coma.

Second Male Recruit [Laughing, with a Scottish accent]: Aye, all feckin' four of the wankers. Feckin' United Nations, I'm gonna feckin' join Praying Mantis.

African-American Female Recruit [With a light Texan accent]: Not me. I'm going to get shipped out to France or the Middle East, where the real action is, not here where all we do is watch Praying Mantis get shipped out to fight some backwards PMC in Cuba.

First Hispanic Male Recruit [With a distinct Cuban accent]: Leave Cuba alone!

Second Hispanic Male Recruit [Laughing, with a Californian accent]: Man, Cuba's being teabagged by Praying Mantis as we speak!

Phil [Ringing the bell, loudly]: BREW ON THE MO'E!! GET'CHA TEA HERE BEFORE YOU LEAVE YOUR COACHES TO DIE!!!

As soon as he calls out, several recruits quickly amass outside the van.

Blonde Female Recruit [with a Cockney accent]: Finally, some proper tea, and not the icy shit these bloody Yanks love!!

Phil [Grinning]: Nothing like the death of an Academy to bring business up.

Phil begins to serve several polystyrene cups of tea as a large explosion blows out all visible windows on the top floor of the Academy, causing Daniel to stumble forward slightly.

Phil [Calling out]: DON'T FALL, DANNY! DON'T FUCKING FALL!

Daniel flips the bird at him before raising his arms, cackling loudly as the Mercenary Academy of the United States sees the UN and American flags on its roof lowered....

**LAS VEGAS, NEVADA**

Las Vegas, Nevada. Similar to San Francisco in that it has been untouched by PMC's. However, this could be because most PMC's make a visit to Las Vegas a mandatory holiday at least once a year. The strip still glitters with neon lights, the casinos still stand tall and resolute and the sleaze and vice still penetrates the city to its very core.

Will, with Bob and Frank in tow still wearing their ordinary clothes, strolls in through the front doors of the MGM Grand Hotel and Casino. This titanic entertainment complex, providing restaurants, a hotel, a casino and more, is one of the true highlights of the Las Vegas Strip. The huge circular lobby greets them, a graphic of a lion on the floor and a golden statue of a lion ahead of them on a circular plinth, surrounded by a variety of vegetation. Behind the statue, on the rear wall, blink several screens flashing graphics and advertisements at them while, to their left, the casino unfolds and to their right stand several desks, including the front desk. Will grins brightly, his arms opening as he walks into the casino.

Will: Here we are, gentlemen!!

Frank [Looking around, scratching his right ear]: It's awfully noisy.

Bob: And bright.

Will: That's Las Vegas, peasants.

Bob: So...what do we do?

Will [Scoffing]: Party! We party! Gamble! Drink! Screw! Shop!

Frank [Shivering]: But it's.....fancy.

Will: Yeah, it is--Hang on a second, Davidoff?!

Bob: Who?

Will: Clothes! Beautifully expensive clothes!

Will rushes over to the outlet: Outside of the Davidoff outlet emerges a somewhat tall man. Shaven headed with immaculately sculpted facial hair and a fine physique, clad in a solid black suit with a red dress shirt, the man cuts an imposing figure. Behind him is a bodyguard, thick and heavy set, also shaven headed with a pencil-thin goatee. Wearing a tight black t-shirt, a pair of black dress trousers and a beanie, with arms like gnarled tree trunks, the bodyguard of the man appears even taller and bigger than his client.

Will [Surprised]: It's....It's Maynard Hetfield. And his bodyguard, Dave Markinson.

Bob: Who?

Will: Former professional wrestler. Used to wrestle across the world in various small promotions. Rumour has it that he's linked to biker gangs and the Mafia.

Frank: Isn't that the guy who used to have a Roman soldier gimmick?

Will: The very same.

Bob [Shaking his head]: I....don't know what we're talking about.

Will: He's a very rich man. Very rich, and he loves flaunting his wealth. So i'm going to go and make friends with him.

Frank [Laughing]: And how do you know he won't just kill you? Or that Dave guy? Bald with the beanie? Yeah, that Dave guy could shit you out. Literally shit you out after eating your whole.

Will [Dusting off his lapels]: The rich love pornstars, and he'll love me. Later, peasants.

Will grins, walking forward confidently towards Hetfield. Behind him emerges a third figure, carrying several bags in his hands: Unlike the other two, this figure is skinnier, wearing a plaid blue and white dress shirt, jeans and with his spiked hair gelled up, with a thin soul patch beneath his lower lip. Hetfield looks over his shoulder at the figure.

Hetfield: Come on, Mr. Cornell, time waits for no man!

Markinson: Move it, Zack, we've got a party brewing upstairs.

Hetfield [Suddenly noticing Will]: Speaking of parties....

Will [Grinning]: Hey, Maynard Hetfield! Huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuge fan of yours!

Hetfield [Laughing, pointing at Will]: Shit, it's that pornstar! What's his name....one who got banned from visiting Japan because of indecent exposure.....Will! Will Studlin! Fan of your work too, lad! Just seen your newest DVD!

Will: Well, I'm here from the Pussy Wonderland! Figured i'd fly myself in from San Fran and see what the fuss is about in this little ol' place.

Hetfield: Welcome to Las Vegas! Enough booze to drown heaven and enough poon to smother hell!

Will: My kind of town!

Hetfield: Hey...Hey! Hey! I've got a party up in my room: One of the SkyLofts, just a little classy shindig, some champagne, few nibbles, just to celebrate me heading back here from purchasing a little wrestling company that started up around here: Ever heard of TITAN? Just purchased it from some guy named Ashton Matthews. Poor sap.

Will: Can't say I have...

Hetfield [Shrugging]: Never mind. Anyway, mate, come on up! Could use a male pornstar, there's about six female ones up there anyway.

Cornell: It's gonna be a blast!

Hetfield: Yeah, yeah, it will be! What do you say?

Will [Laughing]: Well, who am I to deny an invitation from a celebrity? I'm in!

Hetfield: Sweet! So, you bringing up any friends?

Will: Well--where the fuck did the drunk go?!

Will looks around as Frank is nowhere to be seen. Bob himself has disappeared, leaving only Will with Maynard Hetfield and his entourage.

Will [Turning around]: ....So...

Hetfield: Leave 'em. Let's rock. And show me that trick with the lady and the melon baller.

Will [Laughing, walking away with Maynard Hetfield]: Of course, friend! Of course!

Bob is ambling aimlessly around the floor of the MGM Grand casino like a lost little puppy. Walking past Beacher's Madhouse, Bob is somewhat overwhelmed by the noise and the lights, gazing at the ceiling and walls as he stumbles forward.

Bob [Mumbling to himself]: Fucking hell..

Ahead of him and slightly to the left lies the Tap Sports Bar. Bob walks into it, where Frank is sat on the right-side of a bar which forms a square around a central display of liquor. Frank looks to his left, giving a tired smile at Bob who wanders over to Frank through the crowd, pulling out the wooden bar stool to Frank's left and sitting on it, resting his back against the small backrest and letting out a small sigh.

Bob [Calmly]: Vegas, eh?

Frank: Not your idea of fun?

Bob: Not really.

Frank: Yeah, I hear you: Gambling ain't my vice. Drinking is.

Bob: Same here. Just seems....pointless.

Frank: Here we are, in the middle of one of the most famous cities in the world. And we're not doing anything.

Bob: Yep.

Frank takes a drink from his bottle as Bob watches.

Bob: Frank, honest question: Do you have PTSD?

Frank slowly sets the bottle down, giving a small shrug.

Frank: Never thought about it.

Bob: Frank, will you please see a psychiatrist or something while we're on holiday?

Frank [Chuckling]: That concerned with my drinking?

Bob: I'm just concerned, Frank. You really do drink heavily: No-one else does.

Frank: I just like drinking....Bob, man, I appreciate you being concerned. Honestly, I do, but at the same time....It's nothing. I like beer, it's that simple: I like tasting new beers. Like this! [Holding up bottle] Hoegaarden White Ale! Tastes great. Don't worry about me....Worry about Lynch. Lynch has PTSD, I can see it in his eyes and I don't think he realises it--Hell, I think he's too fucking busy to realise it. I think......well, it may even be nanomachines.

Bob: Nanomachines?

Frank: Lynch has seen a lot of shit in his life. A lot of shit. There is no way a man like that has been through so much while appearing untouched. Willpower doesn't do shit for PTSD: It HAS to be nanomachines. Has to be.

Bob [Blankly]: Fucking hell.

Frank [Taking a drink]: Yeah.

Bob [Leaning over the bar]: Hey, can I get a bottle of Beck's over here?

Bartender: Comin' right up.

Frank: So...yeah. Don't worry about me.

Bob [Reaching into his pocket and pulling out a $10 bill]: Too late. I do.

Frank [Chuckling]: Thanks. But...no PTSD. If anything, i'm just a bit, well...lonely since Mantis left. I mean, you guys are cool, but since Mantis went......well......

Bob: I understand. What happened to the pleasure-bot, though?

Frank [Frustrated]: Y'know, I dunno. She just vanished one day. Same day Robbie and Dave left for their u-boat. Guess they must've taken and dumped her, I know Dave hates that shit..

Bob [Paying the bartender]: Dave hates everything, to be fair.

Frank: Too right.

Bob takes the bottle of Beck's, taking a quick drink.

Bob: Yep, that'll hit the spot.

Frank [Holding his bottle towards Bob]: To mercenaries.

Bob [Clinking his bottle against Frank's]: To hell, sand and gunfire.

Bob and Frank drink from their respective bottles, looking around at the bustling bar.

Frank: Busy, eh?

Bob: Yep!

As Frank and Bob drink, a small hustle of whispering rolls over the crowd. Frank and Bob look around, and then to the doors as Will strolls towards them, wearing nothing but a pink wool dressing gown with a white trim.

Will: Knew i'd find the drunkard in a bar!

Frank: For fucks sake, Will, did you just walk off set?

Will: Hetfield is hosting a party and guess what, you ugly fucks? We're in!

Frank: Wait, what?!

Will: I told you! The rich love pornstars! I've been trying to find you for a long time to tell you: We're in! Come on!

Frank looks at Bob, who smirks and shrugs.

Bob: Ah, hell, may as well!

Leading them through the hotel, towards the elevators and into the depths of the MGM Grand, Will, Frank and Bob eventually emerge on one of the highest floors of the hotel: The SkyLofts, a premium experience sought after by the wealthiest and most elite of society whenever they head to Las Vegas. And now three bumbling mercenaries have found themselves there. Strolling towards a nearby door that is opened slightly, Will shoves it open: The room in front of them is filled with people and the sounds of heavy drum and bass fill their ears. In front of them is a small white table, covered in a variety of finger foods. To its right is a white leather couch, behind which is a long wooden table flanked by a number of chairs. Behind that is a small bar and to the left of the bar is a large pool table. Several leather chairs dot the room, whose lights have been dimmed. Frank looks over at the wooden table: A large leather championship belt with a gold centre plate and four golden side plates, two on each side, lies on the table, with the letters "UWL" emblazoned in green on them. As soon as they walk in, a well-groomed male wearing a black suit and white leather gloves slowly shuts the door.

Will [Laughing]: WELCOME TO NIRVANA!

Frank looks to his right, noticing a private bar.

Frank [Eyes widening]: BOOZE! FANCY BOOZE!

Hetfield: Help yourselves, boys, it's all paid for!

Frank quickly walks over to the bar, eyeing a bottle of Remy Martin XO brandy. Uncorking the bottle, Frank pours it into a glass, taking a quick drink.

Frank: Hell yes!

Hetfield [Laughing, opening his arms]: It's all yours!

Will walks over to the pool table, snatching a cue from the stand and looking around. The guests are mostly hovering around Maynard Hetfield, eating finger food from the table as he discusses his deal to buy TITAN. Will's face falls slightly as Bob walks over to the bar, standing beside Frank.

Bob: Enjoying yourself?

Frank: Hell yeah!

The butler walks over to the mini bar, looking over at Frank and Bob.

Butler: Sirs, would you like a signature drink? A SkyTini, perhaps?

Frank: No thanks, my good man: This cognac is like nectar!

Bob [Looking over]: Y'know what? A SkyTini sounds awesome!

The butler approaches the mini-bar, beginning to fix a drink as Bob and Frank step back, turning around and watching as Hetfield vaults over to the couch, walking over to the minibar himself and winking at Bob and Frank.

Hetfield: You two mercenaries like Willy boy?

Frank: Yeah.

Hetfield reaches into his pocket, pulling out a pair of business cards and handing them to Frank and Bob, who take them.

Hetfield: You two ever run out of work, I'm always looking to add more security to my entourage.

Bob: So..this is why you invited us up?

Hetfield [Laughing]: Nah, I just like the company. But keep it in mind, yeah? Can't imagine sitting in the Middle East with sand up your ass is too pleasing.

Frank: Not at all.

Hetfield: So...keep it in mind, eh? And mingle! We're all friends up here!

The butler turns, handing Bob his SkyTini as Hetfield walks over to the mini-bar, grasping a bottle of Cristal champagne and twisting around again, hopping over the sofa and onto it.

Hetfield [Raising the bottle of champagne]: I'M THE EMPEROR OF VEGAS, BABY!!!

A huge cheer goes up from the crowd. Will walks over to the bar, wrinkling his nose somewhat irritably.

Frank: What's wrong, Will?

Will: Nothing.

Bob: He's just jealous that he isn't the centre of attention!

Cornell [Walking over, clasping his hands on Will's shoulders]: Not in our world, friend. Not in our world.

Will [Coldly]: Take your hands off of me.

Cornell: Nah.

Will turns to Zack, his eyes flashing violently.

Will [Angrily]: Listen here, you little shit, I'm Will fucking Studlin! And don't you fucking forget it!

Dave Markinson slowly walks over, glaring down at Will and folding his arms. Will gulps, looking up at Dave.

Markinson [Calmly]: Calm down, Will, or I will eject you from the party. Through the window.

Hetfield [Walking over]: Woah, woah woah woah! Woah! Leave Will alone, eh? Let him prove himself!

Will: What?

Hetfield: Prove yourself. Fight me. C'mon, you want attention? Pin the champion, baby!

Will [Rolling up the sleeves of his dressing gown]: Alright then, you little shit, I wi--

Before Will can even react, Hetfield kicks him in the stomach. Will wheezes, doubling over as Hetfield pulls him under his right arm. Hetfield leans forward, lifting Will into a suplex and hooking his right leg as he does before dropping backwards and planting him with a Fisherman Suplex. Will hits the floor with a deafening crash, wheezing as Hetfield gets to his feet, placing his right foot on Will's chest.

Frank: HOLY FUCK!

Bob [Laughing]: GOOD! FUCKING GOOD!

Zack Cornell quickly kneels beside Will, slapping his hand down beside Will on the floor three times. The crowd of people, including Frank and Bob, let loose a huge cheer as Hetfield raises his arms.

Hetfield [Laughing]: YOUR CHAMPION, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!

Markinson walks over to the championship belt and picks it up, handing it to Hetfield who stands on the sofa, raising it high above his bed.

Frank [Raising his glass]: TO THE CHAMPION!!!

Crowd [In unison]: MAYNARD! MAYNARD! MAYNARD!

Hetfield [Laughing]: Hail to the Emperor!

Will slowly sits up, clutching his head and looking around, his head snapping towards Frank who laughs loudly, raising his glass.

Frank: Cheers, Will!

Will [Angrily]: FUCK YOU!

Frank hits the empty bottle of Remy Martin violently over Will's head, the sound of glass clunking off of bone filling the air as Will hits the floor. Frank looks at the bottle, then at Will, before throwing it onto the ground and smashing it, raising his arms in the air.

Hetfield [Cheering]: GET THAT MAN ANOTHER DRINK!!

The entire crowd roars in delight as Hetfield raises the title above his head. Bob pours a glass of Macallan 12 year old whiskey for Frank, handing it to him.

Hetfield [Laughing]: That's how we do it in Vegas, bitches!

Bob [Laughing and raising his glass]: You know, a man could get used to this!

Frank [Raising his own glass]: I'll drink to them!

Frank and Bob clink their glasses together, drinking as Hetfield begins to dance on the sofa.

**UNITED NATIONS MERCENARY ACADEMY OF THE MIDDLE EAST, THE SINAI**

In the Academy, in Mother's office, sit Lynch and Joel, the brother of Bill whom had double-crossed his only family to bring them to justice. Bill is nowhere to be seen, presumably drinking himself into a stupor in Beale Street. Mother remains her usual dour self, looking at both Lynch and Joel and sitting back in her chair. Father Mercenary is stood to her right, flicking through a folder labelled "SYKES, JOEL", that appears to be a record indicating prior military service.

Mother: That is the deal, Joel. Take it or leave it.

Joel: So, you want me to work on this.....Project...Eos?........And it involves time travel?

Mother: Yes.

Joel [Laughing in disbelief]: Well, hotdamn, if I said 'no', you'd probably just shoot me anyway for telling me that.

Mother: We're not planning on you saying 'no'.

Joel: .....Well, ma'am, you're right. I've got nothin' left for me back home. May as well throw in my last chips here and help you with your fight.

Mother: Good.

Joel: Well, I look forward to working for you, Mother.

Mother: I'm glad.

Joel: I thought i'd be working for......well, Lynch's company.

Mother [Sitting back in her seat]: Lynch has other leads to pursue. You, Joel, are a valuable asset to have within our technological operations. You were not dishonorably discharged and were a credit to your team. Therefore, you will have a use elsewhere.

Joel: Thank you kindly, ma'am.

Mother [Giving a small smile]: A charming young man you are. Anyway, Father will want to take you away to show you where you will be working. I must converse with Lynch.

Father [Stepping forward and placing the folder on the desk]: Come on, lad, let's show you the ropes.

Joel pushes his chair away from the desk, getting to his feet as Father leads him from the room. Lynch spins the folder around, opening it and examining the contents.

Lynch [Quietly]: Huh. MARFORCYBER. Kid must be a natural with computers.

Mother: He is.

Lynch: So you're making him work on Project Eos?

Mother: The United Nations are growing suspicious. It's becoming more and more difficult to hide what is causing the energy spikes from this region of the world. I need extra eyes and ears to ensure that our computer systems remain safe from intrusion: Our usual team of grunts are intercepting tens of intrusion attempts every hour.

Lynch: Doesn't sound too bad--

Mother: Just yesterday, we recorded a record seventy-one attempts from twelve until one in the morning: That's one a minute, more than enough for those men and women. The United Nations already have their battering rams at the door, just in cyberspace as opposed to reality.

Lynch: If the UN are growing restless, then why are we on holiday?

Mother: I want your entire team rested before one final push. After the events of Operation Virtuoso and Snake Eater, the last pieces will fall into place. By finding the Philosopher's Legacy and ensuring that Volgin is eliminated, there's no risk of awakening a man with unlimited funds at his disposal. Considering Big Boss already leant himself towards the Les Enfants Terribles project, preventing his disgrace will....merely be a cherry on top of the cake. A side effect, even. Eliminate Volgin and secure his funds.

Lynch: ...That's the only reason why we haven't launched the assault? The small risk that Volgin might still be alive?

Mother [Somewhat irritably]: I am not going to stake my chips, just to have a wild card wipe out my bet. I am not moving until I am certain.

Lynch:....Understood.

Mother: Oh, I received a call from Samuel Chevrolet yesterday.

Lynch: Him? What did he want?

Mother: It seems as if the Perfect Soldier Project continues to throw up interesting discoveries.

Lynch: ......Another furry?

Mother: An anthropomorphic soldier was found, yes. That's not all, though: Apparently, Bielefeld wasn't the only area where testing on the Project was being carried out. They were told that Karelia in Finland also hosts, or hosted, another location where the Project was being carried out.

Lynch: I'm not going to Karelia.

Mother: You won't need to: We're sending in Father's First Company. This job requires more finesse than your men and women can provide.

Lynch: Understood.....What do you want me to do?

Mother slumps back in her chair, twiddling her thumbs as she looks at Lynch. A few moments pass before she answers.

Mother [Calmly]: I want you to go back on your holiday.

Lynch [Somewhat hesitantly]: Honestly, Mother, i'm fi--

Mother: Of course you're fine. However, I order you to go on holiday and not to return until I give the explicit order.

Lynch sighs, pushing his chair away from the desk and getting to his feet.

Lynch: ....I mean, honestly, I can--

Mother [Sternly]: Do not disobey a direct order. You know what the punishment is for that.

Lynch [Nodding]: .....Understood. But.......look, can I spend it in Beale Street?

Mother: Why?

Lynch [Quietly]: ....It's....pretty much the only place I can call home....I can't go back to Long Island.....Back to my house. You know it reminds me of.......

Lynch's voice cracks slightly and trails off. Mother simply nods.

Mother: Then you may do so.

Lynch: Thanks, Mother..

Lynch turns around, trudging slightly through the open and shutting it behind him. Mother watches the door before spinning her chair around and getting to her feet, gazing outside of the window and down at the yard of the Academy, where a large drill is taking place for Ghost Company in the blazing midday heat.

Mother: Oh, how the wheels of fate are turning...

**LOUSIANA**

Close to Hardwater Lake, Dean, Bobby, Samuel and Karab have tracked the succubus, dragging the unfortunate anthro in Kane with them. Tracking through miles of forest, the land seems nigh-on inhospitable to life or, at least, Dean, who is grumbling to himself at the rear of pack. Bobby, now wearing a large rucksack, is leading the march, machete in one hand and hipflask in another. Trekking through the dirt and mud, with insects buzzing around their flesh, the five of them appear somewhat bemused by where their journey has led them, and they can only hope that their tracking instincts are correct.

Dean [Mumbling]: Fucking Louisiana...Why Louisiana?

Samuel: Why not?

Dean: It's Cajun country! Do you know who the Cajuns are?

Samuel: Yeah, descendants of the Acadien--

Dean: EXACTLY! A bunch of French people who got lost and made up their own language that is half French, half redneck, full retard!

Samuel: Technically, they were forcably removed by the British and forced to set up a colony around this area. Many died on the journey.

Dean: Hey, great: Retarded French people with a grudge and a Southern American attitude which is basically "Me lose civil war, me cry now."

Samuel [Sighing]: Dean, just get it off your chest now so we don't have to put up with your whining.

Dean: Alright, alright, alright, here's one: What's the difference between a souffle and the South?

Samuel: Go on.

Dean: A SOUFFLE CAN RISE SUCCESSFULLY!!!

Karab: ....Heh, that was good. Slightly.

Dean: Seriously, though, fuck the South. Bunch of thick retards who have delusions of grandeur when they couldn't even win a Civil War. Oh, but they call it the War of Northern Aggression when they're a bunch of rampant slavers and rapists! Their food is stupid, greasy and fattening to the point where the average Southern menu is basically a fucking Social Darwinism doctrine, their accents are stupid, they dress like retards, they have an odd obsession with family and they smell funny.

Karab [Aside, to Samuel]: Is he normally this moody and aggressive?

Samuel [Aside, to Karab]: It was a long flight and he hates flying.

Karab: Ah.

Samuel: I could go on about how shit Kansas was. I could go on about how shit the United States are. I could even go on about how shit the world is. But I won't, because this is just embarrassing, Dean. This really is a stupid grudge that you hold.

Dean [Angrily]: FUCK THE SOUTH AND ITS STUPID FUCKING PIPEDREAMS OF RISING AGAIN!!

Samuel: Well, given what's happening in Tennessee right now, I don't think you have to worry about that.

Dean: Why not?

Samuel flicks through his iPhone, accessing a news site and highlighting a news story entitled "LIVE UPDATING: Cobras Fumentes rebels initiate hostile takeover of Tennessee; Plan to take government and secede power to Brazil."

Karab: ....Well, that's new.

Dean [Reading the news story]: ....Alright...so..."The PMC, led by an unnamed man in a rainbow coloured coat, has currently taken large swaths of Memphis, Murfreesboro and Smyrna and is making headway towards Nashville. Unconfirmed reports of ongoing executions in the area".....What does that mean for us?

Samuel: Well, the Mercenary Academy of the United States is outside of Memphis. Or, right now, I should say that it WAS.

Dean: Shit, did they take it?

Samuel [Scrolling down]: ....Wait.....hang on...."The Mercenary Academy of the United States, under United Nations control, remains untouched. Unconfirmed reports are being leaked of a large party being held on Academy grounds to celebrate Cobras Fumantes arrival."

Dean: Hang on, isn't it mostly Brits and a few retarded Americans in that Academy?

Samuel: A lot of Brits and a fairly large South American contingent....."Reports state that the British troops, many of whom were due to be sent to the Middle East, raise a Brazilian flag besides the UN flag." So, it's looking like they're part of it. I mean, the United Nations won't get involved, this just helps the war economy and cause Tennessee doesn't have a PMC, it means they aren't losing out on extra money.

Dean: What about....well, Mother's plan to unite the Academies?

Samuel [Shrugging]: I'm hoping she has a plan. Hey, maybe she's in contact with Cobras Fumentes and she planned the takeover?

Dean: That'd be amazing.

Bobby [Calmly]: Keep moving.

Walking through a thicket of undergrowth, slashing it apart, Bobby and the others emerge in a small clearing. A small area of marshland is situated to their left with a skeletal wooden hut atop of it. Ahead of them is a huge thicket of gnarled reeds, covering the source of what sounds to be running water. Bobby heads towards the reeds, but Dean stops, looking at the hut.

Dean [Turning to the hut]: Aw, man, that's spooky. We should check it out.

Bobby [Steeping towards the hut]: Stand back then. I'll check it.

Bobby shoves his hipflask into his pocket, wielding his machete as he walks towards the hut. He stops suddenly, a ghostly hollering filling the air.

Dean [Looking around, terrified]: Oooooohhhhhhhhhh fuck, we disturbed redneck ghosts!

Karab [Pointing near the hut]: WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!

From out of the swamp rises a figure. Stepping forward, first visible is a green full-face welding helmet, covered in reeds and dirt. As the figure continues walking forward, forcing Bobby to quickly walk backwards, he reveals yellow plated armour, roughly welded and riveted, tarnished and dirty. On the figures back are a pair of green fuel tanks, in which is a bright yellow nozzle for a flamethrower. The mysterious figure known only to the mercenaries as the Man in the Banana Suit, supposedly only haunting the backwaters of Texas, has risen in the backwaters of Louisiana.

Samuel: Oh God.

Karab [Eyes widening]: IT'S HIM!

The Man In The Banana Suit stomps forward, reaching back and grasping the nozzle, clutching his flamethrower threateningly as he looms over them.

Dean [Bluntly]: Well, i've just soiled myself.

The Man In The Banana Suit [Angrily]: WHAT YE DOIN' IN THESE PARTS?!?!?

Samuel [Gulping]: ...Uhh...we're....hunting a succubus...

The Man In The Banana Suit: THE FUCK YOU SAY, BOY?!

Karab: Hang on, it isn't Halloween. Why are you here?

The Man In The Banana Suit lowers his head, glaring at Karab before reaching over his shoulders and slipping the nozzle of the flamethrower between the tanks.

The Man In The Banana Suit: YEH WERE TRESPASSIN' ON MY PROPERTY! But, point taken, i'mma go now.

The Man In The Banana Suit slowly walks backwards, his feet plunging into the swamp waters as he continues to walk backwards, slowly disappearing from view. The other simply watch, blinking in awe.

Samuel: He lives...in a swamp.

Dean: Yeah, well, only psychotic inbred retards who marry their cousins live in swamps.

Kane: He has a point this time.

Bobby [Storming forward]: Shut up, will you? The hut oughta be around here somewhere.

Samuel: Hopefully not where the Man lives.

Dean [Ominously]: The Man.....IN THE BANANA SUIT!

Kane: Really? That's his name? How fucking unoriginal is that? What kind of absolute bellend without a brain came up with that?

Dean, Samuel and Karab look around. Dean looks up to the sky, then at the reader, then at the sky again, giving a wink.

Dean: You fucking know it.

Karab slaps Dean around the back of his head, causing him to yelp. Bobby is busy wading through the swamp, clutching his machete as he approaches the thicket of gnarled reeds, hacking away at them.

Karab: No breaking the fourth wall.

Dean: Sorry, Avanash--

Karab [Angrily, grabbing Dean by the collar of his jacket]: I WILL FUCKING GUT YOU IF YOU CALL ME THAT AGAIN!!

Dean: But it's your real name!!!

Bobby [Angrily]: WILL YOU FUCKING IDIOTS STOP AND FOLLOW ME?!?!?

Kane walks forward, begrudgingly wading through the swamp as Karab sets Dean down, pointing at him.

Karab [Coldly]: Say it again and I'll kill you.

Karab turns around, wading through the swamp. Samuel follows as Dean stands at the edge of the swamp, biting his tongue before shrugging.

Dean: Keep going, Avanash!!

Karab screams wildly, twisting around and slowly wading through the swamp towards Dean who stands there, laughing loudly. Halfway towards Dean, Karab stops, reaching into his belt and pulling out a throwing knife. Dean's face falls in an instant.

Dean: Ooooooooooooooo, fuck.

Bobby [Angrily]: MOVE IT, YOU FUCKING RETARDS!!!!

Dean: Alright, alright!

Karab sighs, turning around and wading through the swamp towards Bobby, shortly followed by Dean. Bobby himself wades through the thicket, followed by Samuel and Kane: Behind it, erected on four stilts, is an old decrepit hut, sitting right in the middle of the water. The hut itself appears heavily damaged, with no windows and only black shrouds covering them, and with a screen door that is hanging off of one hinge.

Kane: Oh, look, an abandoned hut in the middle of a swamp. Where could the succubus possibly be hiding out?

Samuel: You don't have to be THAT sarcastic.

Kane: If you've been around the British as long as I have, it becomes a natural response to many things.

Bobby continues to wade towards the house, grasping the wooden porch and pulling himself up onto it. He turns around, watching as Samuel pulls himself up onto the wooden porch, twisting around and holding his hand to Kane who takes it. Samuel helps Kane onto the porch as Dean still wades forward, past Karab who is moving somewhat slowly. Dean manages to reach the porch first, pulling himself up and onto that. Bobby sets the rucksack down and reaches into it, pulling out a large leather-bound book.

Dean: Cool, deus ex machina!

Bobby pulls out a small bundle of post-it notes as well before pulling his rucksack onto the back.

Bobby [Holding up the post-it notes, which are marked with an odd red sigil appearing akin to a crucifix]: This should hopefully bind the succubus.

Dean: Bind?

Bobby: Null her powers somewhat, leave her open to an incantation. The incantation, in this book, should hopefully drive the very evil from her body. Or, at the very least, keep her stunned and reeling for a killing blow.

Dean: Which is?

Bobby: Well, take off the head.

Samuel: That's it?

Bobby: Hey, nothing can survive without a head, and it's not like a succubus can just grow one back. Come on.

Dean: What about Karab?

The others look over at Karab who is very slowly making his way towards the hut.

Bobby: Y'know what? Leave him. We always need someone to bring up the rear.

Bobby slowly forces the door open. The inside of the hut smells foul, a mixture of sulphur and mould stinging their nostrils. Directly opposite the door, a sigil daubed in blood is painted on the bare wood, a pentagram accompanied by a mixture of various archaic religious symbols. To their right is a single bed, little more than a moth-eaten mattress on a battered wooden frame and, to their left, a wooden desk that is covered with cobwebs and dirt. Behind the desk stands the remains of a bookcase, now completely empty aside from a single jar, filled with blood. Untouched by dirt or dust, it is clear that the jar is new.

Kane [Pointing at the jar]: That ain't normal.

Dean [Looking at the sigil]: Neither is that, to be fair.

Bobby: ....So, where's the succubus?

Samuel: I'm guessing this is where she's summoned. Should we bunk down and wait for the summoner? Or hunt for the summoned?

Seductive Voice: Hello boys.

Karab: Uh oh.

Bobby: Does that answer your question?

From out of the bloodied sigil appears the form of a succubus in a black haze. With extremely pale skin and black horns, wearing nothing but a leather bra, panties and knee-high boots, the seductive succubus cuts an alluring figure, with an ample bust and waist, her devilish beauty capped off with a flowing black devils tail. Bobby quickly rushes behind the table slams the book and the post-it notes onto the table, flicking through the book.

Bobby: Shitshitshitshitshit--

The succubus glares at Bobby with pale brown eyes, and an unseen force throws him backwards and into the wall behind him. Bobby slumps down the wall into a sitting position on the floor, dazed, as the succubus slowly walks towards them. Unknown to the succubus, Karab still hasn't emerged from the swamp. The succubus walks towards Kane, who gulps loudly.

Succubus [Grinning]: Fresh meat, eh?

Kane slowly whimpers, a pair of black claws extending from the ends of his fingernails.

Dean [Looking down at Kane's hands]: Dude, I wish I could do that.

Succubus [Licking her lips]: Oh, yes, fresh....meat....

Kane yelps wildly, twisting around and kicking the door open, bolting out of it with his tail tucked firmly between his legs. Literally.

Dean [Watching]: Oh, that useless little fucking--

The succubus turns her head to Samuel, giving a lustful grin. Samuel's eyes widen.

Samuel: Aw, shit.

Dean slowly steps over to the desk as Bobby stirs slightly. The succubus quickly lunges forward, grabbing Samuel by his throat and pinning him to the wall beside the bed. Samuel can only watch as the succubus leans up, her nose touching his.

Succubus [Quietly]: And what's your name?

Samuel: Uh....hi...I'm Sam......yours?

Succubus [Grinning]: Luna..

Dean [Pointing to the sky slightly and smirking]: Hehe, that's a good one.

Samuel [Angrily]: STOP FUCKING DOING THAT AND HELP ME!

The succubus glares over her shoulder at Dean, who is suddenly thrown back, hitting the wall behind him. Dean slumps down onto the floor as Samuel sighs darkly.

Samuel: He's fucking useless. If only Karab was here...

Luna: Don't worry....I'll be gentle...

Samuel: Yeah, right.

Dean slowly sits up, shaking his head and crawling over to the table, grasping it and leaning up, looking over at Samuel.

Dean: Sam, what's the incantation?! Is it in this funny book?!

Dean is thrown back once more, hitting the floor with a thud as Samuel shakes his head.

Samuel: Can we skip the sex and have you just kill me? Honestly, it'd be a relief.

Luna: Not until I have my fun...

Samuel: Dammit.

Dean crawls forward once again, leaning up and over the table, flicking through the book as the succubus leans in, licking Samuel's left cheek.

Luna [Smirking]: Tasty...

Samuel [Shuddering]: Just let me go, crazy lady...

Bobby slowly sits up, getting to his feet and stumbling over to the table, leaning over the book.

Bobby [Quickly, looking at Dean]: Page fifty-three. Incantation. Recite it.

Bobby twists around, stumbling quickly towards the succubus and slapping the post-it note with the sigil on it onto her back. He's automatically thrown backwards and Dean ducks, watching as Bobby sails over his head and slams violently into the wall, rolling down it and onto the floor.

Dean [Looking over his shoulder]: Poor fucker---Shit.

Dean is thrown back into the wall, making him fall on top of Bobby. Luna leans in, gripping Samuel's shoulders tightly.

Luna [Calmly]: Now we have peace...

Karab's Voice [Hissing quietly]: Aayo Gurkhali.

Luna looks around, as does Samuel.

Samuel [Loudly]: KARAB! HELP!

Dean, once again, is up to his feet, stumbling over to the book and flipping through to the right page, gazing at the writing.

Dean [Quietly]: ...The fuck?...

Samuel: HELP ME!!!

Karab [Leaping through the door, clenching his fists]: AAYO GURKHALI, MOTHERFUCKER!!!

Samuel [Looking up]: ........Uh, Karab, where's your kukri?

Karab opens his palms and looks down at his hands, noticing his lack of a kukri.

Karab: Shit, hang on, I dropped it.

Karab leaps back outside as Samuel struggles violently against the grip of the succubus which slams him down onto the bed. Dean is thrown back once again as the succubus straddles Samuel, grinning and gazing down at him.

Samuel [Straining]: HELP!! SOMEBODY!!!

Bobby stirs once again as Dean slowly gets to his feet.

Samuel: Dean, how the hell are you--

Dean [Angrily]; DAMMIT SAMMY!!

Dean is forced back slightly, the succubus too focused on Samuel to care about Dean who quickly rushes over to the book.

Kane [Peering his head in, meekly]: H-Have you done it yet?

Dean: Shut up, I can't read this shit! IT'S ALL IN LATIN!!

Samuel [Angrily]: IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE, YOU GODDAMN IMBECILE!!!!

Dean: Ah. Well....I can't read or even pronounce Latin correctly.

Samuel [Angrily]: ARE YOU JOKING?!

Dean: Nope.

Luna [Grinning]: Good.

Samuel [Angrily]: YOU STUPID FUCKING BASTARD!!! I MAY AS WELL JUST FUCKING DIE NOW! WE'RE FUCKED, DEAN, FUCKED!!!

Dean: Well, technically speaking YOU'RE going to be fucked.

Samuel [Straining angrily against the succubus, glaring at Dean]: I OUGHT TO GUT YOU MYSELF!!

Karab suddenly rushes into the hut, now wielding his kukri which is covered in slimy mud.

Karab: AAYO GURKHALI, SWAMP CUNT!

Samuel: KILL HER!!!

Dean [Flipping through the book]: FUCKING LATIN!!

Karab looks at Dean, then at the succubus, before sprinting forward. Swinging his right arm backwards, he cleaves forward with the kukri with all his might. The succubus turns her head, only able to watch as her head is sliced off with the kukri, the head rolling across the floor and landing at Dean's feet as black blood fountains from the open neck wound, spraying Samuel as he retches and coughs.

Karab [Screaming loudly]: BY THE GURU GRANTH SAHIB, I PROTECT!!!

Samuel: GET THIS FUCKING THING OFF OF ME!!

Dean [In shock]: DUDE, YOU DECAPITATED A SUCCUBUS!!!

Karab: Quick, we gotta make sure!!

Karab throws the body of the succubus onto the floor, stabbing repeatedly and wildly into it with his kukri. Dean rushes over, quickly spraying salt across the form of the succubus as Samuel rolls off the bed, spraying lighter fluid on the body.

Samuel: Karab, you can stop--

Karab [Wildly]: AAYO GURKHALI!!!!!!!!

Samuel: AVANESH!!

Karab stops suddenly, pointing his kukri at Karab.

Karab [Bluntly]: I fucking told you--

Dean quickly reaches into his pocket, fumbling with a box of matches and lighting one, throwing it onto the succubus and watching as the body erupts into flames.

Dean [Sighing in relief, stumbling backwards]: FINALLY!!

Karab [Screaming wildly]: AAAAAYYYOOOOOOO GURKHAAAALLLLLIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Samuel [Breathing heavily]: Goddamn, Karab!

Karab [Raising his kukri into the air]: Aayo Gurkhali.

Dean holds his hand out to Samuel who takes it, and Dean pulls him to his feet. Bobby slowly sits up, groaning and clutching his head before looking over at the burning corpse of the succubus, getting to his feet and walking over to the corpse, looking down on it.

Bobby: About damn time you boys did something right.

Samuel: ......Well, Dean, we got our resolution: How do you feel?

Dean: Well, Sammy, it feels good to finally have a fucking episode where things ended right for us that didn't involve zombies.

Samuel: That's good. Yes, everything has ended nicely.

The door to the hut opens and Kane walks in, his claws having receded and his tail flowing once more as he glances over at the flickering flames.

Kane [Speaking up]: I thought we were going to the Middle East.

Bobby [Raising his hand]: And i'm still here too.

Dean and Samuel [In unison]: Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.

The scene fades to black.