Next day, I get a grand tour of the yacht. Waldo's christened the thing the "S.S. Enterprise."

Murdoc thought it was funny. Sort of. Murdoc insisted on coming aboard with me because "these fucking loonies'll try ta take ya away when I've got my back turned." Remarkably, nobody took offense to that. The twins certainly didn't. They were in the presence of one of their idols. Murdoc doesn't like them too much. He hates that they're children, and mexican children to boot. Murdoc uses them to fetch him stuff.

"Oi! Twin A! Get me a beer!"

"Yessir! Right away boss!"

Twin A is Taz, and Twin B is Ditto. They look identical, especially since Taz is flat chested and Ditto sports the same short spiky haircut as she does. Ditto's left handed. That's one of the ways. It's certainly the easiest way.

The yacht is pretty nice, with wood floors and a pool, but a sort of Nouveux rich feel emanates through here. "It's okay," I finally say to Waldo while the group of us are wandering down a hallway. "You haven't seen the best part yet!" Taz says, walking backwards in front of us.

Murdoc decided to stay on the boat's deck (Is that what it's called? I don't boat. I know how to fly a plane. But drive a boat? Hell no) with his beer and Ditto playing servant while I go below deck. Good to know that I'm after alcohol on Murdoc's list of concerns.

"Okay...you ready?" Taz asks me.

"Sure."

A light is flipped, and the entire room is awash in light.

"Holy Motherfuckin' hall of weapons, Batman."

"You got that right."

Everything a mercenary could possibly need. Sneak suits, reversible outfits, and shelves of guns and other weapons.

"Awesooome..." I stretch out the word as I wander past guns, trailing my fingers along them. I've missed this. Just a bit.

Waldo leans heavily against a gun rack. "Pretty cool, right?" he asks, sweat beading on his forehead. His eyes are bloodshot to boot. I jumped to conclusions.

"You been smoking weed or what?"

"No, Gina. I'm just a bit...sick. Food poisoning," Waldo snapped, rubbing a palm over his forehead. "You look awful," I say, watching him. "Well thanks! Just what I fucking needed!" Waldo says, punching a gun rack.

"Holy! You got PMS too?"

Waldo laughs, but then it turns into a cough. Then the coughs degenerate into a spluttering retch.

"I'm gonna puke," Waldo moans through a half-open mouth, wheezing.

"NO YOU ARE NOT!"

I am not going to be witness to another bout of Waldo being sick. Especially not on ME.

I grab the back of Waldo's turtleneck (what a fuckin' hipster) and drag him out of the Batman Weapons Hall.

"Where's the bathroom?"

"Down the hall to-urp-the left. I'm gonna be sick, Gina."

I don't even respond, just drag Waldo like I'm dragging a dead hooker into a river.

Shove Waldo into a bathroom and listen to the poor guy puke his guts out.

"Jesus! You been binge drinking?"

"BLURRRGH. No. I haven't been drinking."

"Is this an allergic reaction to arsenic or something? Wouldn't be the first time."

"Why don't you go fu-oh shit. BLURRRRRGH."

Then Waldo screamed embarrassingly high, "I'm vomiting blood! I'm dying!"

No. I'm not losing this guy.

Waldo's covered in black blood, but it's shot through with dark blue. "Easy there, it's okay. You're gonna puke for a bit then sleep for a very long time," I tell him, trying to reassure him, but it turns out badly.

"I don't wanna die yet!"

"Shut up! God. Okay, this happened to me when I got to this island, alright? I was fine, and thus you'll be fine. Don't be a pansy," I almost throttle the guy.

Waldo looks thoughtful. "Really?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Well, there has been a lot of, just a minute, BLURRGH. Demonic activity. So that's probably reacting badly with our blood."

"Oh yeah?"

"Hold that thought. BLURRGH. I think so."

I mull that over. "Huh."

"Yep."

There's a silence, punctuated by Waldo puking his guts out.

"I'm gonna, just, go back to the island. You okay with that?" I call to him.

"Sure!"

Murdoc's waiting for me on the deck, leaning on a chair. Ditto is leaning over the railing, dry-heaving. "Twin B's sick," Murdoc points out to me. "Thanks for letting me know," I say, trying not to sound bitterly sarcastic. "I'm alright!" Ditto calls, and then pukes over the side of the Enterprise.

"Jesus. Let's get outta here before we catch somefin' eh?" Murdoc says. "Bye Mr. Niccals!" Ditto shouts, and then his head's back over the side of the boat.

"So you're gonna go on wif this thing?" Murdoc asks me as we head down to the smaller boat that I'll use to get us back to Plastic Beach.

"Yeah dude. Totally," I say, sounding like such an Asian with my engrish and my so American speech.

Murdoc smiles, patting his pockets for cigarettes, finding one, and lighting up. I start the boat, and get us back to Plastic Beach. I'm worried about Operation Final Crusade. There are so many things to go wrong. But I'm in. I'm definitely in.

(A.N. Argbarg sorry for not updating sooner I wanted to get this right. I will continue this, but just sort of slower. Please leave a review, can be anything really. Hate, Love, random, whatever floats your boat.)