Robbie Bourbon has brought children Xbox One consoles for the sake of keeping them hushed over the fact he gassed them with knockout gas. TJ Wallace, revealed to be his partner, still requires a favor, to whit Robbie is beholden. The Dick of Peter Gilmour was recently captured at the Bourbon dojo.

Little did they know...

IT'S GOING DOWN AT THE DOCKS

We open to see Robbie standing at a pool table in the dojo with Cyberjaw, the man with the cybernetic jaw, and Diamondback, the man who can blend into any crowd. TJ Wallace enters the scene.

What's up?

Not much, good to see you. Welcome to the dojo, are you hungry?

Nah, not right now. Maybe in a minute. So, what do you want?

Straight to the point. Okay, I can appreciate that. So, I found a peice of technology that will help you out with that favor you need from me.

Cool. Why am I here then?

Well, I need help retrieving it.

I thought you had all these commandos or whatever, brah.

The Bourbon Men? Pfft, I wouldn't trust them on a black ops style mission like this. Tip top secret, cloak and dagger type shit going down, you know what I mean?

What the fuck are you talking about?

Look, there's a submarine off the coast, they have a sensor array that we need for your favor. It can track any kind of signal in the air, and for what you have in mind, besides the fact I want to backwards engineer one for myself, we need to get our hands on it. The best thing is, it's a spy sub, so there's no official record of it.

A spy sub? Dude, what the fuck are you on? You want me to go with you and invade a submarine? How the fuck do you intend to do that?

With me, bitches.

With that, the Dick of Peter Gilmour hops up on the pool table clad in a tiny little scuba suit and scuba tank and a tiny little facemask.

See, the Dick of Peter Gilmour is going to go beneath the surface and find a vent to enter in the sub, and make his way to the cockpit and make the sub surface. From there, we just enter and track down the sensor array.

That's right. I'm my own dick, I'm Cissexual, I go places Peter would never go.

After it finishes it's thought, Peter's Dick sticks it's tongue out at Robbie and TJ and gives them a raspberry. Who knew?

Woah, this is too much. I mean...

C'mon, TJ, you're my tag team partner. We're going to fuck shit up, yeah?

Damn straight.

Okay then, so handling a submarine full of paid operators is going to be cake.

Cake?

Angel food, stud, now come on, we have shit to take care of.

The Dick of Peter Gilmour hops onto Robbie's shoulder like a parrot would a pirate and the three all leave and get into Robbie's van. The Dick sits on the dash, looking back at Robbie and TJ.

Damn.

Damn nothing. Robbie is a good guy. Sure, we didn't get off on the most solid of terms, but we talked it out for a while. Got to know one another. Got to respect one another. He even helped me set up a Tumblr and got me set up on OK Cupid. I have a date with a girl named Michelle next week, we're getting coffee and donuts. Peter Gilmour never got me a date with Michelle over coffee and donuts, but you know who did? Robbie Bourbon.

Look, I get it's a hassle to come around here and do the leg work, but that's just what we gotta do to get results. This is going to pay huge dividends for us, trust me on that.

If you say so.

He does say so, mister. Robbie Bourbon is the kind of man who you can rely on. When you need results, and when you're in the crunch, you can always remember Robbie Bourbon.

Okay, we're at the docks!

Robbie unrolls the window of his car as he grabs a pair of tongs and grabs the Dick of Gilmour. He then tosses it out the window into some weeds.

What about the sub?

There's no submarine, we're just going up the road to Annapolis, doing a meet and greet, then getting a free tour of the place. We can get the signal tracking specs while we're there, they're in an old textbook that's considered outdated, we're getting it for free, Cyberjaw will be able to build it.

So why even come up with the submarine idea?

I needed to get rid of the talking penis.

Peter's Dick has a real hard on for you.

Heh, looks like it.

So why does Peter want to fight you so bad? To put you, and well, us, in a House of Hell?

Hrmm. I don't know. I think Dim suggested it to him.

Dim suggested it?

Yep.

Shit. Talk about the blind leading the blind.

They usually just follow the perimeter of a room when that happens.

What?

When blind people, never mind.

Heh, I get you.

Cool. So, know any white jokes?

Huh?

You know, white people jokes, and their ranch dressing habits, and their ventriloquists dummies.

I don't know what you're talking about.

Don't make me pull out my ventriloquists dummy, TJ.

You're a goofy fuck.

Only when I'm in a pleasant mood.

Well lets keep it that way, no reason for you to start wrecking shit before Wednesday.

Agreed. Come Wednesday, I'ma be a god damned torrent of destruction and ass whoopin'. Dim's an animal that won't be tamed, just subdued, which is sad but it is what it is. Peter is a douche bag that won't learn or even see the world around them. They're a pair of brainless twats who can't get enough of each other's stupid bullshit, day in, day out. Dipshits, the both of them, and they built their own fucking funeral site. Acid, and piranha, and fire, and barbed wire. That isn't hell, stud. Not yet. It doesn't become hell until we get into that fucking cage and show those two assholes what hell is. We show them suffering, pain, and anguish after anguish, in their tomb they shall languish, we will stomp them on the ground until their brains fall out and they go squish. Do you feel me?

I feel you.

God damn right. Now put something on the radio.

With that, Robbie reaches into a cooler and pulls out a Coca-Cola as TJ messes with the stereo.