The Yellow Flag

Lagoon Company had docked for the night and made their way to Yellow Flag.

Drinks were to be had and gossip was to be spread around the community from this very spot. Some very interesting gossip was to be had tonight, as word spread of four mystery men tearing through twelve of Abrego's gangsters.

Bao started, each member of Lagoon Company leaning in, eyes wide and ready to hear what he had to say.

"So apparently these four fuckin' guys came from that god damn lightning storm - a bunch of other shit, too. But back to the guys, right? They get chased by Abrego's guys down an alley and that's the last these guys were ever fuckin' seen, cause nobody fucks around in a chase or they get got."

Bao took a swig of whiskey.

"These four guys got 'em. Nobody knows how, but they never found nine a' the fucks, and two were shot in the alley. The last guy was found fuckin' disemboweled in the nearby building, piss on his fuckin' corpse and a bunch of other cuts and shit."

Bao took another swig.

"It's fuckin' crazy. People also sayin' a bunch of other shit's showin' up across town. Fuckin' sody machines, weird boxes and some fuckin' girl. That storm's the cause of this, I fuckin' tell ya."

Dutch leaned backwards in the chair he resided in, adjusting his glasses further up on the bridge of his nose with the free hand. The other tended a shot glass of scotch to his lips.

"I'll be damned. Any idea who did this, Bao? So we can steer clear of them?"

Revy scoffed; "Fuck no! I wanna take a shot at these guys! C'mon Dutch!"

Dutch shook his head. "No way in hell am I allowing that. The whole fuckin' city'd come down if you and them went at it."

Revy showed an expression of disappointment while Benny and Rock exchanged worried glances.

"Well," Bao started, massaging his lower jaw, "If what I heard is right, it's those four guys right there.."

The barkeep extended his right hand outward to four men sitting at a table. "A fuckin' Ivan, Nazi, American, and some tojo Jap. They was sittin' there when my guy came in an' told me about it."

Revy of course gawked, promptly shooting herself out of her chair.

"Holy fucking shit."

The four looked like they were pulled out of some war movie. The youngest one was - at best - in his early forties. The Japanese man looked like he was at the end of fifty, with the Russian and German not too far behind him. The American looked like a Marine Raider, the types that stormed the beaches of Iwo Jima and Okinawa in the second world war. Grunt types.

The Japanese man wore the uniform of an Imperial Japanese Army officer. A holster for some type of handgun, a combat harness, and a scabbard for an officers' katana was present on him. The thinly veiled mustache outlined his yellow-tan face, where the wrinkles of his past showed in detail.

The Russian was straight from the reaches of Stalingrad. Wrapped to heavily for this awful climate, the Russian had removed his headwrap and a good portion of his upper body's clothing to reveal a simple Russian military blouse, the rucksack, and his messy brown hair. The man's face looked constantly inebriated by way of alcohol.

The German looked ripped straight from the SS. Officer type with knee high boots, the SS collar pins, finely worn uniform and the typical combat rig. This one was missing the arm band and the cover. But he, too, looked wrought from the past years of whatever they've been through.

Something synonymous stunk about them, Revy thought as she stepped close to them, much to the chagrin of the protesting Dutch...

They smelled like rotting meat.

Revy scrunched her face as she realized what the stank was, wafting her hand over her nose. Another thing she noticed was the firepower they carried. Each had a reasonably powerful weapon, from the Galil battle rifle, the M14, and the SPAS-12. The Japanese man wasn't sporting a firearm at the moment, but the holster looked filled.

Revy walked to the table and slammed her hands on the table, a grin crossing her face. Behind her, Dutch could be seen gripping his Smith and Wesson revolver in its holster, edging from his seat.

"Heya guys! I heard you fuckin' destroyed some of Abrego's cartel goons! Mind showing me how you did it?"

The American glared at her, a cig in his mouth - the man looked tired. In fact, they all looked tired. He, named Tank Dempsey, leveled his eyes with Revy's. "Listen. There's a whorehouse upstairs. You look the part of it, so get the fuck out of my face and go back to work."

The Russian belted laughter, rattling something off in Russian and English, something about the red-haired woman before them that none of them cared to interpret.

Tank cracked a grin, removing the cig from his mouth. "Unless you're working now, and I'll pay you up front."

Revy's mouth echoed a cacophonous laughter that made all four of the men immediately lock eyes on the woman. They looked more bewildered than angry, but the emotions were soon superseded by the latter.

Revy pulled both of her Beretta's out, pointing them up in the air. Behind her, Bao could be seen ducking behind the counter, and Dutch was stepping forward.

"Wow, so fuckin' original ya' fuckin' pig. Sure, I'll let you fuck me, right after the world fuckin' ends you goddamn mutt."

Dempsey could be seen slumping in his chair, releasing a tired breath at the woman before him. "Sheesh, you got more T than fuckin' Tak. You hear that, Jap, this fuckin' bitch has a bigger dick than you!"

Takeo slammed his fist on the table, leaning over and eyeing Tank. "I value my honor over feeble insults, you monkey!"

Revy and Dutch were side by side at this point, watching an argument unfold between the Japanese man and American. It was a solid two minutes of their bickering that the two watched - both dumbfounded.

Nikolai was tired of their bitching, so he grabbed his SPAS-12 and pointed it skyward. Interrupting their conversation, Nikolai squeezed a shot into the ceiling, dropping the entire room to silence.

"You two fucking bicker and bitch like third wife! Shut the fuck up so I can drink!"

Nikolai waved the shotgun in Tank's face, and Tank responded in part by drawing his Galil battle rifle, putting the barrel straight into Nikolai's face. "Fuckin' do it you smelly sonovabitch, I'll fucking drop your ass in hell."

Richtofen belted in laughter with Takeo as the other two, now, bickered.

Nikolai swung the shotgun over at Richtofen, who continued laughing. "You are both fucking morons! Got /damn/ zhat was amusing! Do it again little monkeys, please!"

Richtofen's laughter trailed into him clutching his stomach with one hand, the other repeatedly slapping his knee.

Bao shouted at the four - "Hey! Don't go fuckin' shootin' shit in my god damn bar!"

Tank looked at the few in front of him, lowering his rifle to a resting position, but not quite putting it down.

"Fine."

Tank sat down and glared at the tall, dark man and the Chinese-american before him, both looking dumbfounded by the four's behavior.

"What?" He asked Revy and Dutch, "What do you want?"

It had been a long day outside of the office for Balalaika, but it looked like it would be an even longer night inside of her office.

That was mainly because something that wasn't there before - sitting in front of one a shattered window that allowed her to view the streets of Roanapur. Herself and Boris were glaring at the machine with some odd interest. A group of men were with them, scouring the office for any other odd things.

"What is it?"

Balalaika asked, perplexed.

"I mean... What is it?"

She continued asking this question as Boris prodded it with a screwdriver, still coming up empty. "I don't know Kapitan, all i can tell about it is the name. Pack a Punch... It's uh... Well.."

Then, the white-blue machine kicked to life. The rainbow colored lights behind the name panel, the rotating wheels within the mouth of the machine - it all sprung to life with an odd, ethereal glow.

A song played, and Boris drew his Ak-74 at the machine. More men crowded around as its jingle played..

"Friends, neighbors, ladies, gentlemen,

If you're feeling under-powered,

I'll help you make amends,

Stick your weapon in the slot,

And let it change your luck,

Few things in life are guaranteed,

But I promise this won't suck,

Punch your fists into the air,

And raise a rebel yell!

There's lotsa bad'uns out there,

You need to send to hell.

With Pack-A-Punch I have a hunch,

Your problems will be gone,

But if you end up on the ground,

Sing a country western song.

Pack-A-Punch, everybody!

Pack-A-Punch, yee-haw!

Pack-A-Punch,

Pack-A-Punch,

Pack-A-Punch, everybody!

Pack-A-Punch,

Pack-A-Punch, yee-haw!

Pack-A-Punch, woo-hoo!"

The jingle finished, but the machine was still alight. Boris glanced at his weapon, then Balalaika. "Kapitan, should we use this.. Machine..?"

Balalaika offered a nod, but no audible response.

Boris approached the machine and crouched to put his chest level with the opening of the machine. Slowly, Boris placed his AK-74 into the opening, the wheels immediately latching on and taking it into the center of the machine.

The jingle kicked on as high doses of element one-one-five pulsated through the room and the machine, changing them and the rifle Boris put inside of it.

Elias had bought Lizzy for the night.

It was gonna be a fun night.

Elias was an out of towner who came here to buy beautiful women and fuck them as he pleased. A stock holder, he had plenty in reserve for fruition like this. Lizzy, a tall, blonde woman who sounded like she was from America tagged onto the taller man's shoulder. He wore slacks and a baggy green T shirt. He was incognito - while she wore a skin bearing dress that left little to the imagination.

They were laughing, and they came to a spot in an alley away from the place he bought her out for the night.

"Here, now,"

Elias looked Lizzy in the eye, the hunger pouring through his gaze to the prostitute. She shuddered, not from him, but a sense of unease flowing through the air. Elias felt it, but ignored it, gripping Lizzy's shoulders and pushing her up against the wall.

Lizzy almost protested, but gave in, her hands tugging at Elias's clothing as he trailed his tongue up the side of her neck. Lizzy trembled, her fingers groping his shirt, lifting it off in tantalizing anticipation for what came next..

Something snapped further down the alley, and then something cracked.

Elias pulled back, turning his head in the direction of whatever that noise was. "What the hell?" He asked nobody in particular, taking a step back from Lizzy. "Did you hear that?" Lizzy shrugged, her arms folded over her chest, seemingly unaware. "No, I-"

Then something loud ripped through the air, a scream that was immediately silenced by a loud squelch. Elias froze, a cold sweat beading at his forehead. Lizzy, too, froze.

Elias tore a compact M1911A1 from his belt and pointed it down the dark alley... But somewhere down there.. Yellow dots illuminated the alleyway.

"Hey! Who the fuck is down there?!"

Lizzy moved to Elias' side, clutching the hems of her dress.

Deep in the dark, a wet, slapping noise rebounded off the walls as several husks of man-shaped shadows lumbered around one another. The shadows wagged in the darkness, some suggestively bending over to tend what quarry they had. Several of the ghoulish features took notice of the man...

What the fuck is that?

Elias ran the possibilities through his mind as the shadows leaned side to side, slowly approaching through the darkness. The air grew dry and stiff, Elias suddenly finding it hard to breathe as his chest didn't want to respond to his brain signals. He couldn't understand what was in front of him..

Elias found the strength to yell-

"I said, who the fu-"

One of them stepped out. Elias and Lizzy immediately recognized their uniforms - Hotel Moscow. But something was wrong. Hotel Moscow was always stiff, professional... And they didn't have their guts hanging from their abdomens. Several of them were that way, intestines pooling around their waist, fleshy tears at their legs, necks and arms. One man had his jaw unhinged, teeth glowing white with emaciated musculature surrounding it.

"What the fuck?!"

The first five of the lumbering ghouls snapped their heads back, then forward in a dizzying motion, then their eyes locked onto Elias. Slacked, torn, flesh-filled jaws slowly crept open to emanate a howl that shook Elias to the bone.

Yellow beads took place of their eyes, and all of them stared into Elias' soul.

"Fuck this!"

Elias pulled the trigger of his .45, punching a round into one of their chests. The ghoul just flinched, and the other four bolted in unison at the man, heads wagging wildly as they hungered for the man.

He stepped back, dumping three rounds into the closest one and dropping him with a final headshot. The other three leaped through the air, two tackling Elias and one tackling Lizzy.

Elias' gun was flung from him. One of them seized his throat, lumbering its jaw down and threatening to take a bite from his face. Elias put his left arm up, blocking the creature at the throat. But, he wouldn't have much purchase in this pursuit..

The second one crawled to the exposed portion of Elias' right ribcage. In the background, Elias could hear Lizzy screaming as this thing was chewing in her neck, ripping veins and muscles out of her. She squealed, squirming on the ground and smacking the Russian ghoul uselessly as her throat was vigorously ripped from her neck with a vigorous squelch.

The second ghoul, Elias saw, fished a knife from its side and ripped open Elias' midsection. Elias tried screaming, but his voice was cut off as the creature above him squeezed his throat so tight it crunched/. Elias couldn't breathe, and his arms gave out.

The last thing he saw was the second Russian ghoul heaving his entrails into its mouth, and the first one taking a large, conservative bite out of his neck. The pain would have killed him if element one one five wasn't keeping him alive for other reasons.

To take Roanapur.