The Whose Line men arrived in Sydney to a particularly bleak morning. It was thrashing down with rain with gale force winds. This had meant a rather turbulent landing and Ryan cacking himself.

“And to think on TV it’s always sunny,” Brad sighed.

“Yeah, and on TV you can’t tell the President is a puppet,” Greg jeered.

“Now that’s just harsh,” Chip mused.

“Oh please, you can see the hand up his butt,” Greg stated.

“I hate to break up the cheery debate, but we’re supposed to be rescuing our rich, sitcom-actor friend,” Ryan grumbled.

“Where are we gonna start, huh?” Greg spat. “Cos I don’t know about you, but I don’t have any idea where he is.”

“He’s got a point,” Colin mumbled.

“I know he’s got a point,” Ryan snapped.

“Well there’s no need to be so horrible,” Wayne scorned.

“Well if people could keep focused and stop pissing me off, things would be fine,” Ryan huffed.

“Look, I need to shower and food. Call me when you get your shit together and your grumpy bootums off,” Greg spat and hailed a taxi.

“Greg’s right. I’m starving,” Brad chirped.

“Me too,” Chip nodded.

“You don’t mind if we…” Brad’s voice trailed off.

“Go,” Ryan sighed.

“I can’t believe you don’t even know where to start,” Wayne huffed.

“Well do you?” Ryan asked.

“I’m going with them,” Wayne snorted.

Ryan turned to Colin.

“Are you going to abandon me as well?” he asked.

“No, of course not. Actually, I’ve got an idea,” Colin announced.

“You do?” Ryan said, bewildered.

“Well I’m not just here to hold you hand when we’re flying,” Colin scorned. “I think we need to find that house we were taken to. The big one Ritza held us hostage at.”

“You’re a genius,” Ryan gasped.

“No, I just remember stuff good,” Colin smiled.

“So you know where it is then?” Ryan perked.

“No idea,” Colin shrugged.

Greg booked himself a room at the same hotel they’d stayed at before. He had a nagging feeling that the staff remembered him. But then how could you forget a bunch of Americans being marched out at gunpoint.

Greg dumped his bag on the large bed, unzipped it and fumbled about for some clean clothes and a razor. After shaving, he stripped and wearily slid into the shower. There was nothing better than getting rid of the ‘in flight’ smell, which always consisted of stale air, vomit, and that spray they use to kill germs before you get off.

Greg had been in the shower twenty minutes when he felt a cool breeze on his back. The type of breeze you get when the shower door is quickly opened and then closed. He decided to ignore it and fumbled for the shampoo.

What happened next happened fast. Greg was spun around, pushed up against the tiles and a knife placed at his throat.

“Didn’t think you and your friends would be game enough to come back,” a female voice breathed.

“Hey, it was totally Ryan’s idea ­– he’s the tall one,” Greg panted.

“Darling, I don’t care whose idea it was. None of you will make it home,” the woman snarled, her skin briefly touching Greg’s.

Greg winced and wondered whether the guys would believe his current predicament: being threatened by a naked chick in the shower, and he couldn’t even see properly…dammit.

Brad, Chip and Wayne found a small café and ordered big breakfast and several pots of coffee. “I hope Ryan cheers up,” Chip announced grabbing a slice of toast.

“He’s probably just tired like the rest of us,” Brad mused. “Pass the syrup,” he added.

“What do you think, Brady?” Chip asked.

Wayne didn’t respond.

“Wayne? Oh Wayne,” Brad jeered.

“I can hear you. I recognise those two guys,” Wayne hissed and motioned to two large men guzzling coffee.

Brad and Chip looked.

“I guess, sorta kinda,” Chip shrugged.

“Shit, they’re Ritza’s heavies,” Brad breathed.

“What are we gonna do?” Chip gasped.

“Follow them,” Wayne mumbled.

“Are you serious?” Brad whispered.

“Yeah. They might lead us to Drew,” Wayne replied.

At that moment the two men got to their feet and headed out the door. Wayne, Brad and Chip leapt up and walked casually outside.

“Dammit, they’re getting into a car,” Chip hissed.

“TAXI,” Brad yelled, walking out onto the road.

The driver looked slightly shocked as three men clambered in and then ordered him to follow the car in front.

The heavies stopped at the dry cleaners and an outdoor shop before they headed into the country.

“Sorry fellas, this is as far as I go,” the taxi driver announced.

“We’ll pay for you to keep going,” Wayne begged.

“Out,” the driver scorned.

They guys paid and were left at the side of the road in the pouring rain.

“Now what, Sherlock?” Brad grumbled, turning to Wayne.

“I say we run,” Chip announced.

“Why?” Brad and Wayne asked in unison.

“Because the heavies have turned round and are heading this way,” Chip squealed.

There was a unified scream and they set off across a wheat field.