The sun was like an ex-girlfriend through the shutters, warm and steamy to start but soon hellfire all over. Revy looked around. Rock's room was a haze of greys, partly from the dimness, but mostly from the depressing decor.
"Hey, Rock," she said, kicking the bed frame.
Rock fell out of bed between heartbeats, hand shooting to the golf club against the headboard.
Revy snorted and put her foot on it before he could swing.
"Relax, it's just me!" Rock glared at her, but it was hard to be scared by a guy who looked nearly cross-eyed from sleep.
"What are you doing in my room?" Rock demanded.
"Testing your situational awareness," Revy said. "Congrats, you failed. Now get the fuck up."
Revy tugged the club out of his hands before the idiot hurt himself. Rock didn't seem to appreciate it, flopping back onto the bed with a groan. She swung the club around like a toy as Rock covered his face with his hands.
"How did you even get in?" he said, muffled. "I'm sure I locked it…"
"Pff, you can crack these open with a fingernail," Revy said. Living in a building of streetwalkers, drug dealers and opium addicts made for the worst maintenance records she'd ever seen, so no working doorknobs.
"Yeah, but the only person I'd expect not to break in was you," he said pointedly.
Revy nearly snapped, Suck it up, but she had to play nice. "Fine," she said, trying to sound contrite. "Sorry."
Bad move; Rock was now looking at her like she'd grown horns. Revy sighed.
"Look, I just need a favour," she told him. The tension went out of him like a cut wire and his eyes broadcasted, Thank god, Revy's normal again! Revy was already regretting this.
"I need help with a hit," she continued.
Rock's mouth fell open. "Seriously? And you're asking me?" he said. "Why?"
Revy was definitely asking herself the same question. Rock was about as hardened as a waterlogged biscuit - how had she got up thinking this was a good idea?
"I don't know," she muttered, scratching her head. The floor was suddenly very interesting. "I just get the feeling you'll actually try help me, I guess."
"Okay, but I don't know how useful I'll be at helping you kill someone," Rock said. His tone made it clear that the pole of righteousness was still residing squarely up his ass.
Revy flapped her hand in the universal sign of Yeah, yeah. "I need to find the guy first," she said. "Will you help me, or should I fuck off?"
Rock looked unhappy.
Revy was about to offer to cover next week's rent when he suddenly nodded.
"Okay," Rock said. "When do we go?"
Revy gave him a medium roll of US dollars to find a getaway car and told him to meet her downstairs in three hours. Rock didn't ask any questions, but when he pulled up in a junkyard model Honda, he didn't wait for her to shut the door before unleashing a barrage of questions.
"Dude, will you just relax?" she snapped, slamming her feet on the cracked dashboard.
"You've told me next to nothing," Rock countered. "At least let me know what we're getting into so I can help!"
Revy sighed. "Fine. One at a time, for fuck's sake."
"Why now?" Rock asked, curious.
"Every Chinese New Year, the triad holds this huge ceremony at the Grand Taipei, and every single member has to go there and give Chang and the bosses tribute," Revy explained, lighting up. "It's long, boring and everyone gets piss drunk to make up for it afterwards.
"The point is," she continued, "is that the entire triad will be busy all night, and we can get into their deep territories without them jumping our asses."
She could see a hint of steam coming out of Rock's ears. "So, are you trying to sneak into some triad location and kill someone?" he asked.
"Not quite," Revy said. "You know Prem? Runs that antique shop?"
Rock mimed putting glasses over his eyes. "Short, gold glasses, good forger?"
"That's the one. He ran up a fake identity for a guy I need to find. Tried asking him about it once, but the fucker banned me and called the Hong Kong brigade," Revy said. "Long story short, if he can't scream for protection while the triad's out, I can get the answers I need tonight."
"Gee, I feel sorry for this guy already," Rock commented, easing the car between two trucks, who immediately replied by blasting their horns.
"Oh, please," Revy muttered around her cigarette. "Everyone hates Prem. He's a goddamn weasel and would fuck you over in two seconds. Hell, the triad's foiled two hits on the guy already, and that's just this year."
"But it's still January…"
"Exactly."
"So who's the guy you're actually trying to kill?" Rock said, sounding disapproving. He parted a group of motorcycles as he took a right onto the highway.
"Anthony Diaz," Revy supplied. "You wouldn't know him. He was a dirty cop in New York."
"So this Diaz got Prem to make him a new name and identity…" Rock said, half talking to himself. He gave her a sidelong glance. "Are you the reason this guy needed a new name?" he asked.
Revy thought about it hard. "Don't think so," she said finally. "He doesn't even know I'm here. Honestly, running into him here is a motherfuckin' coincidence, but hell if I'm gonna let him get away again." The weight of three full magazines slung on her belt was reassuring - he wouldn't outrun those.
"Well, I doubt you're running down this criminal out of the goodness of your heart," Rock said, only mildly sarcastic. "What did he do to you?"
Revy felt the world bleed away in her vision, and a lump formed in her throat.
"Nothing," she said eventually. "He did nothing, and that's why I want him dead."
A long silence stretched between them, conspicuous in the thrum of traffic. Revy ignored it, looking out the window as bicycles and cars competed for the same lanes. Still, the cacophony of vehicles outside was less messy than the feelings in her head. Viciousness eventually won out. She drew out one of her gleaming Berettas, catching Rock's worry on the spit-shined surface.
"Relax, Rock," she said quietly. The buildings shrunk in height as they pulled into the messy suburbs, where businesses both legit and illicit ran side by side. "I'm not gonna lose it. I'm here for a job, and I just want it done."
From the look Rock gave her, she hadn't convinced him one bit. King of loaded glances you are, Revy thought irritably. She'd met hookers who couldn't say half as much with glittering mascara stink-eye.
An ornate Buddhist temple caught Revy's eye and she elbowed Rock hard. "Turn left here!" she said loudly, drowning out his yelp of pain. Rock quickly pulled over in front of an old shop, peeling letters picking out "Sunrise Traders" in English and Thai on the dirty glass. Revy was out of the car the moment it stopped, swinging her arms in preparation.
Rock got the wrong message. "You're going to bash answers out of him like a common robber, aren't you?" he said flatly, crossing his arms.
"What? No!" Revy said. She allowed herself a big smirk. "I know for a fact that this asshole has a collection of porcelain ducks he loves like children," Revy said. She made finger-guns at him.
"It's time for target practice," she said as she pushed the door open.
The door chimed as they entered, tinkling merrily. The shop was long and spacious, metal shelves lining the walls, holding all sorts of expensive-looking knick knacks. Revy paid no notice to the valuables around her, heading straight for the back counter.
Raising his head from behind the desk, Prem got as far as, "Hello, how can I help—" before the sight of Revy bearing down on him made him turn around so fast he nearly left his thinning hair behind. He tried to flee into the back office, but Revy leapt over the counter and jammed her elbow into the closing door.
Revy ignored the growing pain in her arm as she grinned down at him. "Hey, Prem," she said. "Is this how you treat your regulars?"
"Rebecca, you bitch!" Prem shouted, trying to wrestle the door shut. "Get the hell out before I call Kang over!"
"Your triad goon?" Revy asked, before shoving the door open with a loud bang, knocking Prem flat on his ass. One of the hinges went with him, trailing plaster dust.
"Funny, if he was doing his job today, I wouldn't have been allowed on this street," Revy said mockingly. She bent down over the wheezing forger. "Where d'ya think he's gone?" Revy whispered, enjoying the mixture of rage and fear that boiled in Prem's eyes.
Out of the corner of her eye, Revy spotted Rock hovering at the door, like he was trying to give them some privacy. She threw him an incredulous look.
"The hell you standing there for?!" Revy spluttered, trying not to laugh. Rock flushed, awkwardly rubbing his arms like the least popular kid at a party. Jesus… She nodded him over. "C'mere, hold his arms together…"
They bound Prem to his own chair. He struggled like hell, landing a solid kick in Revy's face. She didn't give a shit about his circulation after that. The fucker looked like the ugliest grey mummy when she finally tossed the roll of duct tape aside, pulling him up roughly by the chin.
"Listen," she said, 'let me make this easy. Where is Anthony Diaz?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Prem spat. Revy sighed. Her face was starting to throb, bruising in the shape of an Oxford.
"Ya sure about that?" Revy said, pulling out her gun. Rock started, looking like he wanted to dive between them, but she pointed it at the china cabinet and fired.
Prem screamed as though he'd taken the bullet himself. Glass exploded everywhere, sending what was left of a lumpy porcelain turkey smashing onto the other shelves. It was the biggest of his prize collection, and she wanted to start with an easy target.
"Not the peacock!" Prem cried. "Stop!"
Her ears ringing, Revy shouted, "Fuck you, I could do this all day!" and took out the next one, some bird with long-ass legs. The bullet sent huge red shards flying, some of them looking blood-splattered as they fell. Prem swore at her in Thai, looking demented.
Revy approached the ruined cabinet, searching for the next showy target. She picked out a gold-filigreed ceramic swan, holding it up for a closer look. Veins of yellow threaded through the pale grey glaze. "Ooh," she said brightly, "I think I'll keep this one." It wasn't going to fit in her tight back pockets, so she tossed it to Rock for safekeeping. Unfortunately, throwing a fragile ornament to someone with zero warning went as well as expected.
The swan smashed into a dozen pieces. "You bitch!" Prem howled, straining against the duct tape. "There was real gold in that! Stop!"
Revy ignored him. "Rock, what the hell?!" she yelled, spreading her hands in disbelief.
Rock was frozen, hand outstretched, too late to save the poor swan. "You didn't tell me!" he complained. A single forlorn wing had landed next to his foot, which he nearly stepped on when Revy threw a shittier bird at him in revenge.
Prem was practically foaming. "Crazy fucking bitch, if you stop I'll tell Kang to spare your fat ass -" He cut off abruptly when Revy backhanded him hard.
"God, I have to do everything myself!" Revy fumed. She grabbed the forger by the collar, pulling him and the chair to a dangerous tilt. "Listen, fucker," she said, deathly quiet. "You don't seem to understand. Your triad goons are getting wasted at the biggest festival in town and won't be leaving it to save your sorry ass." Her eyes flicked over the remaining porcelain figures. "Or your stupid ducks."
"Swans!" Prem snapped.
"Whatever." She rolled her eyes. "Point is, do you really want me to waste my entire cartridge—" she spun her gun by the trigger-guard, stopping it against his temple, "-on your pedigree collection, then get my other gun, and spend that one on you?" Revy grinned.
Prem opened his mouth, took a long look at Revy, and snapped it shut again. Revy knew her own reputation: a whacko bitch who loved going off the rails anytime, any day. She figured it was worth cultivating that sort of talk if it made interrogations this much easier.
The fight in him vanished, leaving him limper than a dead goose. "O-okay… I'll tell you," he said hoarsely. Revy holstered her gun, signalling him to continue.
"His… his new name is James Malone," Prem said. "I set him up in a hotel in Chanaburi last week, told him to wait there if he wanted the rest of his papers."
"Which hotel?" The triad would sleep off their hangover before Revy could trawl the whole suburb.
"I don't know-" Prem's voice jumped an octave when Revy drew her gun again. "No, I mean I don't know the address! I wrote it on his new visa, I can get it out for you!"
There was no fucking way she'd cut him loose though, so Revy had to swallow her indignation and follow his instructions.
"Were you hiding them or what?" Revy demanded, pawing through the third filing cabinet. "I can't find anything in this fucking shit!"
"It's not shit, it's Thai!" Prem snapped. "If you could read I wouldn't have to describe each fucking letter to you!"
"I can read Thai," Rock piped in from his watch at the door.
"Round of applause for ya," Revy snapped, before realising what he meant.
"Oh… okay, switch." She stood up, dusting her hands, but Rock was stock-still, looking back out to the shopfront with a worried look on his face.
"Revy, how many people did you say wanted Prem dead?" Rock asked.
She shrugged. "At least ten?"
He turned to her with a resigned expression. "Looks like they're all here," Rock said.
Revy didn't wait; she bolted to the door and pulled him inside roughly. "Get the papers!" she barked, dropping into a crouch. Revy slid underneath the counter, staying out of sight. She drew her pistols and risked a peek out the front windows.
Fuck, Rock was totally right. Several men in face-masks were making a beeline for the shop, and from the vague distortion under their jackets, they were all armed to the teeth. Revy flicked off the safeties in preparation, remembered who she had to protect, and groaned loudly.
"Prem, you motherfucker, I'm not doing this for you—" was all she managed before the shop windows imploded under a barrage of automatic fire, shattering the lights and shelves. Revy aimed over the counter and loosed her own reply, taking down two unlucky sods before their buddies forced her back with more bullets. It didn't stop the rest of them heading through the wrecked front door though, so they meant business.
She'd counted nine more in the brief glance, her mind processing her surroundings faster than she could think about it. Revy's heart pounded in her ears, drowning out the sounds of Rock and Prem arguing in Thai. Normally, that bullshit would have annoyed her, but her body had entered the combat lull, utter peace in the storm.
It helped that she knew her small arms. The triple blasts of burst fire and a softer pap-pap-pap from the other side of the counter helped Revy pick out submachine guns and semi-auto pistols, possibly Glocks or cheap Colts. From the scatter pattern they were carving into the back wall, their owners were firing out their ass. Revy felt her lips curl back. Time to take the fight to these fuckers.
Rock must have had a sixth sense for murderous thoughts because he looked up from the files and yelled, "Revy, don't -" right as she launched herself over the counter, twin pistols blazing.
Bullet time was real and Revy loved it. In the arc of her jump, she could see the completely trashed shop, everything in pieces or turned into wire sculptures. And in the middle of it all, nine clueless fools, mouths hanging open and ready to take a big, fat bullet.
Revy landed in their midst, turning their counterattack into crossfire. Her guns fired in rhythm, alternating blasts as she danced around their stunned attackers, sending hot lead into skulls and torsos. The first guy went down screaming when she shot in him the chest, wasting his last breath before a bullet took him in the throat. Revy deftly dodged the spray of blood from his neck and shot the next one through the jaw, relishing the hard crack of breaking bone.
A brave idiot flung himself over her back, causing Revy to stagger. His weight would have swung a hand-to-hand fight in his favour, but Revy pressed both barrels to the fleshy underside of his chin and squeezed the triggers. Blood and grey matter hit the ceiling fan, which was shot off its hinges by her next target blind-firing as he tried to outrun her Beretta.
Only five more… Revy heard a click in her left hand and cursed; she'd gotten so caught up in the thrill she hadn't realised she was short in her bullet count. Her hand automatically released the empty magazine as another guy fired so close it singed the hairs off her arm. She saw into his thoughts through the rough eye-holes, the momentary triumph as he swung his fist into her face.
She rolled with the blow, dodging a broken neck, but it knocked her vision right out. Too bad for him, Revy could reload blind, so when he came in with his M3 she greeted him with a bullet between the eyes, then grabbed him for a human shield and shot the next bastard three times in the chest.
Three more… Her right gun went dry just as the remaining guys pooled their brains and retreated outside the shop. They barricaded themselves behind a car door, shooting continuously. Revy was forced to hide behind the remains of a display case as the bullets hailed at her makeshift cover. Luckily, the shit was hardwood, and didn't even splinter on her side. Revy heard a short pause in the shooting and decided to gamble on them reloading, even though she only had one working pistol —
— only to stand up and see a grenade falling straight for her.
Its pineapple surface glinted in slow motion, marking out a fragmentation grenade which was almost certainly going to blow her into a patchwork of bloody chunks. Revy felt her mind go blank and her breath catch, even though her body instinctively reacted by swinging her arms up in defiance, as though she could shoot the thing out of existence.
Click. No more bullets. Anyway, Revy didn't need a physics degree to know that there was no way her gun could spit out enough firepower to make the grenade change its course. Well, fuck, she thought, closing her eyes. This is it.
Goodbye, shitty world. Fuck you and the assholes here. Except maybe Dutch and Rock -
Oh shit, Rock! Revy screeched internally. Rock was still inside, desperately searching for the documents she needed, on a favour she asked him to do, and he was gonna fucking die if she decided to stop fighting here and now—
Her eyes flew open to see the grenade hovering just in front of her. Time was gonna start moving again any moment now, but it was enough.
Ya think they got visiting hours in hell?
With a yell, Revy reversed her pistol grip in a flash and smashed her gun hilt-first into the grenade, sending it back through the front door like a baseball. The remaining attackers didn't even have time to swear before it crashed through the car window and detonated behind them.
The blast was immense, sending a huge cloud of thick smoke into the sky, rattling the walls like an earthquake. Revy fell to her knees, pressing her face into the ground as though praying the deadly shrapnel away.
It worked. She looked up blearily to see a smoking, broken car, and three very still piles, crumpled in bloody heaps. Revy hadn't caught her breath when she heard someone calling her name.
"Revy!" Rock's voice sounded so far away. "Revy! Are you alright?!" He was scrambling over the broken antiques, panic in his face. He didn't even look as he ran over the corpses she made, seizing her by the shoulders and patting her down for serious injury. Revy made noncommittal sounds, trying not to fall on him as the world pitched and swirled around her.
Rock's hands made a strangely comforting sensation over her arms and sides, the way one might rub down a racehorse after a run. He even ran his fingers through her dusty hair, checking for head wounds. Rock breathed a sigh of relief when his fingers came away clean.
"Okay, okay… you're fine. Oh my god, you're fine," he said, the colour returning to his face. "It's just… I heard— "
"Yeah," Revy cut him off, then coughed, spitting up grainy saliva. "Grenade. Got rid of it though." She tried to smile, but it pulled her face in different directions and made her wince. Of all the goons who had attacked her today, it was the wimpy Prem who actually made a dent in the great Revy. That bruise was gonna swell real bad tomorrow. Revy felt a bit of admiration for that old fucker.
"Did ya get the documents?" Revy asked, trying not to move her lips too much.
"Yeah, they're inside," Rock said. He stayed close to her as they picked their way back through the debris, insisting on taking her arm and helping her over the larger chunks of ceiling. "You should sit for a bit, you're gonna fall," he told her.
If he's like this every time I save his life, he'll die young from worrying anyway, Revy thought morosely. Why did Rock have to be so troublesome?
"Yo, Prem," she said, flopping onto the desk like she owned it. "I just took care of eleven hits on you."
Prem was red-faced and frowning. "I noticed," he said grudgingly. "Thanks."
"That's eleven favours you owe me," Revy said with a big grin, not caring if her lip split.
Prem yelped, outraged. "Hell no!" he snapped. "Rebecca, you shot up my beautiful birds, I should call a hit on your dumb ass!"
Revy raised her hands, ready to bargain. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry - "
"'Sorry' doesn't cover it! Most of them were custom made!"
"Can you 'custom make' your shitty life back if those fuckers got past me?"
"Girl, I don't owe you eleven…"
After intense haggling, Revy finally managed to wheedle three whole favours out of Prem ('I took a fucking grenade for you!') and got the lifetime ban revoked. Not that there would be much shopping to do here for a while. They cut him loose and left him to stocktake the bullet-ridden merch, heading to their car. As they pulled back onto the main road, Revy hummed along with the radio, feeling lucky.
She rode her high all the way to the Kwinala Hotel, practically bouncing in the lift up to room 1433. Rock didn't seem to share her feelings at all, moodily clutching the envelope of Diaz's fake documents. She shouldn't have taken his silence for obedience, because when she pulled out her gun at the door, Rock grabbed her by the belt and hauled her into the emergency stairwell.
Her good mood evaporated on the spot. "What the fuck?!" Revy said, furious. "We know he's in there!"
"Use your brain, Revy," Rock snapped. "If he was smart enough to change his name, he's smart enough to have an escape route. Gun down that door and he'll just disappear!"
"I want to kick that door down so hard his mother in Midtown gets a heart attack!" she growled, but fuck Rock for talking sense! Diaz was always a slippery asshole, there was no way he didn't have a back door out of justice itself.
"I didn't come all this way to see you fail," Rock said. "I'll talk him into opening the door, then you take him down before he can run."
As much as she wanted to start the show with gunpowder, it would be like shooting into the sky while the rabbit ran away. Revy grimaced then nodded, letting him take the lead. As she watched from the side, Rock pulled out a few of the papers, placing it in view of the peephole as he knocked politely.
The door opened a crack, security chain glinting in warning. A man's voice, casual and North American, came through the small gap. "Yeah?" He sounded young, or at least, tenor.
Rock's voice was even. "I've got a delivery for you. From Prem." He placed a hand over the documents. "He sent something extra too, if you catch my drift."
Diaz's eyes flickered in understanding. "Hang on," he said, vanishing for a moment. There was a click, and he reopened the door. "Okay, come in and - "
Diaz didn't have time to register that the Asian delivery boy outside was now a viciously grinning delivery girl when Revy clocked him soundly, knuckles slamming into his cheek. He dropped like a stone. It never sounded as satisfying as the movies, but it sure as hell felt good. She jumped over Diaz, placing him in a chokehold so he couldn't yell. He kicked the floor desperately, but Revy quickly dragged him inside as Rock closed the door. It locked automatically.
A hand suddenly smacked into her ear; Diaz was blindly swinging at her. Revy swore, resisting the urge to twist his neck in mercy. Instead she tightened her hold until he made a strangled noise.
"Get the duct tape," she told Rock. They worked quickly before she choked him to a quick death, shackling him firmly to a chair. Revy let go to survey her handiwork. Amazing how so little of the grey stuff could make a grown man powerless.
From his wheezing, Diaz was trying to work up enough breath to yell for rescue, so Revy pressed a gun helpfully to his temple. "Don't even think about it, motherfucker," she said, deadly quiet. Rock padded the door gap with pillows and drew the curtains while Diaz looked on in horror.
"Who are you? What do you want?" Diaz panted. Revy rolled her eyes. Terror sure made conversation predictable. Time to make things fun.
Revy yanked his collar, enjoying the way he flinched. "Tony, Tony, Tony Diaz," she said mockingly, "you should know both those answers, shouldn't ya?"
Anthony Diaz didn't have time to act surprised at his real name before Revy punched him hard in the stomach. He flopped over her hand, gasping. That only winded him, she knew, but she wanted to start off easy. No good talking to someone in too much pain to think.
"I tell ya, Tony, it was a seriously good day when I found out you were in town," Revy told the top of Diaz's head, his wavy brown hair glistening with sweat. "No, a fucking GREAT day. Like God Almighty sent me a present Himself," she said, spinning her gun. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Rock shift against the wall, but he said nothing.
"It's like seeing an old friend again," she continued. "But what kind of old friend wouldn't remember me, huh?" Revy ended her sentence with another blow, this time going for the ribs. Diaz cried out, jerking away from her fist.
"Is your memory getting better now?" Revy said, pulling him up again.
"I don't know… what you're talking about," Diaz whimpered. "What… what do you want?"
Frustration made Revy hiss, because what was the point of revenge if the guy didn't know why?! She twisted his chin sharply, forcing him to look at her as she cocked the pistol in her spare hand.
"Think. Harder," she said angrily. "Use your fucking brain, Officer Diaz, before I blow it to the roof—"
His eyes widened in realisation. "Oh god," Diaz breathed, "You're the one Barrett—"
"Finally," Revy sneered, then pistol whipped him. His head snapped to the side. Oops, she thought, as blood started to pour out of his scalp. Might have been too hard.
Diaz took a while coming down from la-la land after that, so Revy took a breather. She lit a cigarette and huffed the nicotine down like a race. She looked over at Rock, who was watching her with unabated disapproval.
"The fuck you mad for?" she snapped. "I haven't killed him."
"This is torture, Revy," Rock said.
She turned her back on him, but Rock wasn't finished.
"You know, a hit, a kill, I get it. It's what you have to do sometimes," he said heatedly. "But this is wrong."
A quick look at Diaz's crossed eyes pegged him as still out for this conversation, but Revy gritted her teeth to keep from screaming at Rock's naivety.
"Listen, Rock," she said tightly. "It's not about right and wrong. It's about what's owed, and who's come to collect."
"But you don't need to do this," he said. Rock was clearly only getting antsy at all the blood. It was starting to drip down Diaz's chin as he mumbled his way back to consciousness.
"Yeah, I don't need to," Revy agreed. "But I want to."
Revy gagged Diaz with a torn sheet and got to work. She'd seen the triad people do it: she knew what to hit, what to break, when to pull back and let them breathe. Diaz howled around his gag uselessly through the beatings. Most of the time though, he could barely breathe through the blood and snot. She kept going until her knuckles went numb and Diaz was limp with pain. Useless, fucking dirtbag, Revy thought, wiping her hands.
"Why don't you just kill him?" Rock said icily. "You obviously don't want him to live."
There was a miserable sob from Diaz, hunched so low his head nearly touched his knees. Revy twirled her gun absent-mindedly.
"Too good an end," she said finally, holstering her pistol. "But fine, I'm getting bored. No fun beating someone who can't fight back." Someone who can't fight back, her mind echoed, I was someone who couldn't fight back. For a split second the four walls caved down on her, separating her from reality like a guillotine of dripping spit and hot breath -
"Make him comfortable, Rock," Revy said softly, and she saw him pale. Revy sauntered to the bathroom and scrubbed her hands and face, wondering whether she should try for a headshot or get the knife.
As soon as she stepped out, Revy knew she'd made a terrible mistake. Rock wasn't even trying to hide the scissors he'd used to hack the duct tape and gag off, leaving Diaz swaying in the middle of the room.
"You son of a bitch!" Revy said, pulling out her guns. For the millionth time, she was glad she had two - one for each of these lying fucks! Rock didn't move when she cocked her pistol at his face, but Diaz wasn't so stoic, leaping backwards with a cry.
"Don't kill me! I didn't do anything to you!" he shouted.
Revy was speechless with rage. Taking off the gag was the worst fucking thing Rock could have done for him! She grabbed Diaz by the collar and threw him into the dresser, not caring if anyone heard it smash. The cheap wood splintered into more pieces when Revy jumped on him, a knee on his chest and her hands at his throat.
"You're right!" Revy yelled, too angry to enjoy the terror in his eyes. Her own thoughts roared as her stomach flipped and sent acid burning into her lungs. "Holy shit, you're fucking right!" she screamed. "You did nothing; you just sat there and watched Barrett fuck me on the floor! And you did nothing!"
She didn't even realise his eyes were bulging too much, or that those bloody lips were turning blue under the foam, that that final gurgle masked his death rattle because inside, inside her was fourteen-year old Revy, full of fear and hopelessness on the dirty cell floor, wishing that her hands weren't wet with her tears but his blood instead—
Rock shook her shoulder, and Revy blinked away New York.
"He's dead. You can let go now," Rock said quietly.
Revy looked down at the corpse she was still squeezing. She dropped him and got up.
"Shit. Forgot you were here," she said, still dazed. Rock didn't reply, taking her by the shoulders, propelling her out the door and down the stairs, footsteps around them looking for the source of the noise.
Revy didn't know how they made it back to the car. It was hard to remember anything when your brain was stuck on rewind. The memory of the holding cell made her hands cold and her throat burn. City lights streaked like movie hyperspace as she did the mental version of trying to shut Pandora's box, snatching up ugly thoughts and ramming them back where they couldn't affect her aim.
They drove on in silence. Good, Revy thought savagely. That way this pasty Jap can't say anything to piss me off. But the twisting in her chest had absolutely nothing to do with Rock, so she gritted her teeth and continued kicking away her memories.
Revy stared at the billboards and street signs until a local fast food chain caught her eye. "Go there," she said. "God, I'm starving." Revy was surprised at how quickly Rock agreed to fetch their order by himself. He usually pulled some 'keep me company, we're buddies' bullshit.
"Here," Rock said, handing her a heavy paper bag before getting back into his seat. "I got us some drinks too."
Cold soda was never unwelcome in the tropics. Revy slurped halfway before she noticed Rock was sitting there empty-handed.
"You didn't get anything for yourself?" she asked. It was way past dinnertime by now.
"Watching someone die kind of ruined my appetite," Rock said. Revy searched his face for sarcasm and found none.
Revy sighed. "Well, it didn't ruin Diaz's at all, back then," she said, leaning back in her seat. "I remember him ordering bagels on the phone right after I got beaten to shit.
"Heh, just think," she continued. "Me lying there with no sense of time, my legs burning, and that dumbass desk jockey is making sure they put extra onion in every fucking bagel he's getting—"
"Revy," Rock said softly. "You don't have to joke about that."
Revy caught the look in his eyes and the twist of her mouth fell away. She looked down at the ice in her drink.
"I'm not," she said at last. "The 'after' is still really clear. The way the lock clicked. The number of footsteps going past. Diaz's stupid fuckin' bagels. I think about it all the time."
She looked out the window. The streetlights bloomed bigger the longer she stared. By the time she found the words, they were larger than the moon.
"…I guess it's so I wouldn't think about what he did to me," Revy said quietly. Her throat hurt as the words fell out.
Revy could feel the barest touch of their elbows where they met over the stick. She tensed, ready to shank him if he said any of his stupid useless things like "I'm sorry" or "I hope you're okay".
"You did the right thing," Rock said suddenly. Revy splattered hot sauce on herself as she missed a bite.
"What?" She spun towards him, not believing her ears.
"You did the right thing today. I'm glad he's dead," Rock said through gritted teeth.
You don't sound very happy, Revy thought, but she said loudly, "What happened to 'Aw, Revy, did you have to kill them?' It was, like, your fucking catchphrase! Don't go throwing that away 'cause I couldn't take the shock—"
Revy's words died in her throat as Rock cupped her face gently, turning her to face him. He spoke so quietly she nearly didn't hear.
"I would kill anyone who tries to hurt you again," Rock said.
Revy nearly quipped No take backs till she saw the look in his eyes.
Revy swallowed as he drew his hand back. She tried to concentrate on eating, but Rock had just shown her something she'd never thought she'd see: not a sight impossible like a unicorn, but more like the midnight sun; rare, searing and so bright she'd wanted to look away. Revy could still feel the traces of that heat, putting a strange new warmth inside her. It soothed the bile, and curled like a cat in the cavern left by anger and revenge. It was… nice.
It wouldn't last. Revy blinked so hard the cityscape refocused. Something wet stung the bruise on her cheek, dripping into her meal. She chewed her last mouthful woodenly, wiping her wet mouth on her hand as she turned away.
"We're never coming back here again," she said. "This shit's too salty."