Chapter Three:

Soon, the mercenaries all headed back through the streets of Maracaibo on foot, as their Vulcan had been stolen in their absence, probably by the Pirates themselves. Jen was at the head of the group, being the fastest of them all of course.

"So they said they sent us off to the Guerrillas?"

"On a boat." Ewan added, wiping the layer of sweat that had formed on his forehead away with the back of his hand.

"On one of their ships." Eva pointed out, squinting into the distance, her hand shielding her eyes from the blazing hot sun. "I mean, how hard could that be to find?"

A half hour later, they were all fed up with walking in the sweltering heat of the Venezuelan sun and they jacked from some poor old guy a rusted, worn out van. It was better than nothing though and Eva once more took up the driver's seat, driving at least twenty above the speed limit. "Okay, we're now driving along the coast, but I don't see a…"

"There it is, crashed up on the shoreline." Chris pointed out, shifting so he was right in the middle of the two front seats on his knees. Eva's brown eyes looked up and sure enough, there it was. Smoking, and partially on fire. Eva pulled up to the side of the road, which was near the bridge, hovering above the crashed yellow and green Pirate ship. Upon further inspection, they saw that the boat was on its side, burnt in various places, as well as smashed to shit up front.

"For being drunk and quite possibly high, it's not that bad." Jen replied as Eva started driving across the bridge so that they could go to the Guerrilla's place. Misha started to laugh.

"Hey, Misha fly jet, not boat. But could probably 'fly' boat if Misha try…" The pilot chuckled lowly. Eva rolled her eyes.

"Look, there are foot prints leading up the bank here, to the main headquarters of the Marxists." Jen pointed out, looking over at them. "And they've got the Converse treads."
"They're Fiona's then." Chris added as he started trekking up the steep hill, breathing hard as it was.

"Which means," Jen puffed, following the dark skinned man. "Fiona headed that way."

Once the group was up the hill, covered in sweat, and hot from the sun, they met up with the Guerrilla leader, Marcella Acosta. "Last night, you…" She pointed to Chris, pulling her thick black hair off her face, revealing that her left eye was swollen and black around the edges. She also had a little purple bruise on her cheek. "Came running in here like a damned maniac. Then you calmed down for a bit, and talked to one of my guys, Paco."

"Huh?" Chris looked around the room.

"Tell them what happened last night." Marcella told him.

"Well, you crashed the boat." A man with a thick moustache started to talk. "Then came running up here, and just started shit. Fighting, yelling, the like. Then you say you have the 'munchies' and start eating our food." Paco explained, rubbing his face.

LAST NIGHT:

"Hey, come on, give us somethin' to eat dammit!" Ewan barked at the men sitting around a fire. Mattias was with him, and soon the men bullied them to get them something to eat. It was chilli mixed with some kind of weird jungle Marxist protein. The women had struggled up the hill as both were high and intoxicated.

"Bloody fucking hell, I can't see straight…" Jen cursed. Fiona was next to her and was giggling uncontrollably.

"Hahaha, you're fineeeee…."

Eva had meanwhile gotten ahead of them, and was talking to Marcella, her mind in a faraway place.

"What do you mean you want to 'talk to me'? Huh? What the hell is that?" Eva growled.
"Woah, hold on, we just wanted to talk, nothing more." Marcella explained, trying to keep her calm. "We just wanted to thank you and…"

"Thank –you my ass!" Eva then lunged forward, striking the leader of the Guerrillas right in the eye socket, sending her on her ass. "You should have left well enough alone Acosta!"

Meanwhile, Mattias and Chris had walked over to the edge of the camp, eyeing their vehicles. They found what they wanted, Mattias chuckling.

"You ready for some fun?"

"Hell yeah."

BACK IN THE PRESENT…

"What 'bout the shiner you've got Marcella?" Ewan asked, chuckling. She glared at him with her one good eye. Then she looked over to Eva with an even worse glare.

"That one decided scrapping with me while drunk was a great idea. Fortunately for her, I was also, drunk."

"Ooo, bar fi-..er, jungle brawl!" Ewan exclaimed. He got looks that would kill him if they could from both women. Eva shrugged.

"Sorry…"

"It's fine, really."

"Hey, at least it brings out your hair colour." Ewan grinned. Chris shoved him back.

"You're not helping Irish." Chris grumbled. "So then what happened?" He asked Marcella.

"Then you left."

"What?" Eva looked at her.

"In what exactly?" Jen raised a thin brow.

"A tank." Jen and Eva's jaws dropped, as they exchanged worried, wide eyed glances.

"Heh, I remember it now." Chris gave them a wide smirk, smoking a fresh cigar. "We went to the A.N and blew a ton of shit up."