The Losers Page #4

Yeah.

Okay, so five dead men

hijacked you, Wade.

Did you happen to find out

who's behind them?

- Not the CIA, NSA, special ops.

- Yeah, I'm aware it's not us.

Seems like the only thing we do know is

who they're coming after.

Get me an 18-man fire team in 12 hours.

- What's the plan?

- What's the plan?

The plan is get me

an 18-man fire team in 12 hours.

- Okay.

- Are we clear on the plan?

Or we could do it a third time.

- Clear.

- Good.

Oh, Wade, you know what I was thinking?

I forgot earlier.

Get me an 18-man fire team in 12 hours.

Are we clear?

Do you want some?

Pooch has a wife.

Jensen has a niece.

When all this is over and they go home

to their families, what are you gonna do?

I'll think of something.

They'll never let you be a soldier again.

You know that, right?

- You have no one, do you?

- Do you?

I got Roque.

You know...

...if you two really fought...

...he would kill you.

Why's that?

Because of the others.

You care what happens to them.

And you think that's a weakness?

I know it is.

It's the law of the jungle.

Well, thankfully, we're not in the jungle.

Yes, we are.

Good morning.

Oh, wow.

That's just peachy.

All right, look.

We're not going anywhere

until you two squash this bullshit.

- We are on a schedule here. Let's go.

- Yeah.

Oh, we're on a schedule. Okay.

What are you doing?

Roque...

...I'm sorry I hit you in the face.

That was good. That was good. Roque?

Roque?

Clay, I'm sorry I threatened

to cut your head off.

Very good. Wow.

Don't you two feel so much better?

- No.

- No.

I don't give a sh*t, because I do.

Now, I say we go watch Jensen

get himself killed. Yup?

A singer in a smoky room

Smell of wine and cheap perfume

For a smile they can share the night

It goes on and on

And on and on

Strangers waiting

Up and down the boulevard

Goliath Worldwide Enterprises.

Mr. Anderson, please.

Mr. Frank Anderson, Human Resources.

One moment, please.

Wow.

Liking the angle of the dangle? Heh.

- Mm.

- Nice.

This is Anderson.

Mr. Anderson, this is Richard Hertz

from Internal Security.

I'm wondering if you'd make your way

to the lobby.

What is this about?

Well, it's a matter of somewhat

sensitive nature...

...involving an individual exposing himself

to women in the elevator.

Nasty business, really.

Best discussed in person.

All right. I'm on my way.

I'll see you there.

Thank you.

Hi.

I'm Skippy from Tech Support, here to

install the firewall on Anderson's system.

You just missed him. But if you want,

you can come back in, like, an hour?

I could be out in minutes.

He doesn't have to be there.

- You can't go in.

- Upstairs is riding me.

- But you can't... Sir... - Thank you,

I appreciate it. I like your dress.

Dress?

Too much.

Algorithm's on the mainframe.

Downloading it now.

- Skippy?

- Hey! Sh*t.

- Really?

- Oh, ho, wow.

Look, I know this probably doesn't look...

Clay, I need an exit!

Circle around the north side of

the building. You'll have cover.

Freeze!

Wow, this got serious.

I'm warning you.

I am a lethal killing machine.

It was a secret government experiment.

They did stuff to me. Spooky stuff.

Anal stuff.

Turned me into a dangerous telekinetic.

As the ancient Tibetan philosophy states:

"Don't start none, won't be none."

Telekinetic your way out of this.

- Pow.

- Ah!

- Poof.

- Argh!

Face down, or I'll make your heart

stop beating with my mind.

Thank you, Cougar.

- Who's got the hard drive?

- Yeah.

And uploading the algorithm.

And...

Holy sh*t. Girlfriend was right. Ha, ha, ha.

- It's a courier drive.

- A what?

Twenty-first-century bagman.

Russian mob banks pioneered them.

- Like an electronic bearer bond.

- Okay, all right.

Say that again,

but a lot slower and dumber, please.

Okay. Pretend you are super evil.

And you want to move

a ton of your ill-gotten blood money...

...but you can't,

because it can be tracked.

So you load your cash onto

this bad boy...

...and you can physically move it

anywhere you wanna go.

And we have Max's courier drive, right?

We have Max's $400 million.

All right, Clay, before you go

do something noble like smashing it...

...I say we go on Amazon

and get a jet.

It doesn't work that way.

Unfortunately courier drives can only load

and unload on their home systems.

Although if we were gonna buy stuff,

I'd say a canary-yellow stretch Hummer.

No, no. We're gonna trade it back to him.

He's gonna get his money

and clear our names.

- No, we made a deal.

- Yes.

Aisha.

He's gotta kill us now. You know that.

Yeah, I know that.

This has a record of every IP address

it's been jacked into.

And there's one address

that comes up a lot.

Obviously someplace

this keeps going back to.

Max's base of ops.

Port of Los Angeles.

Thing probably has files on

every black-book op he's ever pulled.

Including Bolivia.

We could hit him there,

we could clean it out...

...expose the world to what he's done.

Clear our names in the process.

All right, it's a good plan.

And we still kill him.

Absolutely.

We appreciate you meeting us

at a single-story facility.

No problem.

I view that entire incident

as your standard...

..."getting to know each other"

business orientation.

I agree.

But now that we do know each other...

...know that if you ever come near me with

that Yankee Doodle, tough-guy bullshit...

...you will be fed to my dogs.

As you know, we had a hiccup

on our end with the money.

One billion dollars. This is the new price.

- One billion?

- Cash.

Cash is gonna be difficult.

Difficult? Mr. Wade, life the way

you people want to live it is difficult.

You want less difficult?

Move to my country. Study Hinduism.

Meditate. Cultivate serenity.

Way less difficult.

But you want to buy bombs.

I'm afraid that's a more difficult

way of life.

Mr. Wade.

Hello.

He wants one billion, in cash.

That's a lot of paper routes.

Stay wet.

Did you get me my 18-man firing team

I asked for?

- Yup.

- Okay.

Change of plans. Kill them.

Kill my 18 guys?

Or fire them. Whichever is easiest.

Honestly, firing them.

Okay. Did you give them intel

on Clay's people?

- Well, yeah.

- And we're back to killing them.

Fine, I'll kill them.

What are we doing instead?

What's the matter? You related to them?

Actually one of them, yeah.

Really? By blood?

A brother-in-law. I said I'd kill him.

What are we doing?

It's not what we're gonna do.

It's what Clay's gonna do for us.

- And that is?

- Get us our billion, baby.

What are we up against?

Chryon.

Oh, sh*t.

Who's Chryon?

Chryon Security Solutions.

Ex-Special Forces.

Basically a bunch of guys like Cougar

without the warm and cuddly side.

We start recon at 0600.

Anyone not here for it...

...I'll understand.

I was just going over the plan.

You wanna go over the plan?

Let's go over the plan.

Ah, sh*t.

You okay?

Petunias are playing the Marigolds

on Sunday.

So?

These are the Marigolds.

Whoa.

- Those are some hard-looking 8-year-olds.

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