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An Unknown Frequency

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*a young Irish boy takes out his radio from his rucksack next to him and starts to broadcast*

Even though Jerry is gone and Bobby is god knows where just know...

*he takes a long drag from his cigarette, then continues*

Aiden fuckin Murphy aint goin nowhere, any of the lads out there still?

*he takes another drag*

I see them crazy Family fucks are still here, I thought I wiped the lot of you out last time, count your fuckin blessings because i'm finishing the job this time

*he turns off his radio and starts walking down from the mountains he had been residing in*

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*Laughing as he fans out his favorite bandana. Hears the sound of Aiden on the radio*

"Call me crazy, but this our little partnership will go long way people pendejo..."

"Still going to kill Rick."

*Transmission cuts as a raspy Latino laugh fades away*

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[A naked, bald Englishman lies on a beach looking up towards the sun high above him. Next to him lays the fragments of a large, shattered radio as well as a splintered baseball bat. His hands lay cushioned behind his head as he soaks in the rays of sun shining down upon him.]

[He stands abruptly, entering the small wooden shack behind him before emerging with yet another large radio. He tunes the radio whilst backing towards a small wooden rocking chair until he hears the familiar voice of Carlos Martinez. Joey Summers clicks down the large red "TRANSMIT" button. He clears his throat and begins speaking in a harsh Cockney accent.]

"Ah fought evrywun woz fuckin' dead!"

[summers laughs hysterically.]

"Iss good to 'ear 'd' voice of a man ah still trust. Still in Saaf Zagoria? What a fuckin' shit'ol'. Eye 'alf expected you ta find a way back to fuckin' Colombia or sumfin, back ta somewhere wiv some nice birds, a good bitta blow, luvely sunshine...!"

"Anyway uh... I'd luv to 'ear all abaat ya travels some time soon. I'm currently uh..."

[summers looks around at the hard rock walls of the alcove before looking out towards the sea.]

" Lost majority of me cloves awhile back. I've bin explorin' more of a natural side-a-fings for a while. Gets cowd as bollocks at night but nuffin ah can't 'andle. I'm way aat in the boonies right nah. Might 'ead back ta civilisation soon-ish."

"See ya wen I see ya."

[summers presses the large red button again, leaning back in his chair.]

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*Right before Carlos kisses his new AK goodnight, he hears a voice, distant from his memory but still there. He chuckles and picks his radio backup*

"Well... if it isn't Summers, the fucking legend himself. I always knew you were a tough bastard pendejo! Good to see your still out there killing."

"From the sounds of it amigo, you are getting drunk without me."

*Carlos laughs as he chugs the rest of his shitty Chernarussian vodka*

"Tu sabes que, really wish I had what you were drinking because I am not really into this mierda they call vodka."

                                           (you know what),                                                                                                                                                               (shit)

"Well amigo, I've spent the majority of my day killing the innocent, so if you manage to crawl yourself toward our home town, well...you already know"

*Carlos sets down his radio, so excited about hearing an old friend, laughs at the broken safety button on his gun and fires the weapon aimlessly into the air while screaming Spanish profanities.*

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