Hey everyone...I know I know, I need to stop uploading stories and finish updating my old ones _ don't worry I'm working out an uploading schedule as I get things planned out. Anyways. I hope you all enjoy this first chapter. It's still a work in progress but I hope you all enjoy it! Please remember to review!

There are a lot of things they don't tell you about the world in school. Crime, for one. It's real, and it's everywhere if you know how to look for it. Death is there too, but most people acknowledge that death exists, however if you start showing people the proof of crime in their backyard and they're likely to flip you off and keep going on being ignorant. I didn't have that choice. It started out as a simple enough job. Deliver a package. Don't look inside it. Simple. All travel expenses would be paid for by the Bouganvillia Trading company upon successful delivery...goddamn it this was supposed to be simple. Roanapur, Thailand, that was my destination. I go there, and deliver it to a Ms. Vasilinov at their local headquarters. I got flown in through Bangkok and waved down four different taxi drivers before finding one that was willing to take me to Roanapur, even then I had to pay him extra. He took me to the edge of town, right to the mouth of the bridge, a lone noose hanging at the entrance. My name is Jericho, Jericho Yurivich Boyka. I'm a courier, which is a fancy way of saying delivery boy. This bridge where I left all I knew about the world behind. I entered the streets of Roanapur on foot, greeted by stares and leers of all kinds. Local merchants, foreign workmen, white, Italian, Russian, Asian, all here. I kept out of reaching distance of every person I came across, I knew those stares, they were sizing me up, a mark. Wrong person, assholes. I kept moving. I made it within a hundred feet of my destination before some assholes decided to be direct, three people, Italians, blocked my route, they had a guy across the street, watching me. I could see two guns on them, two switchblades already in hand, but not deployed. I froze for a second and that cost me my option of booking it, I felt the metal of a gun barrel pressing into the small of my back.

"Easy, kid. No need to make a fuss, the alley on your right, walk into it." I stayed frozen for a bit, before he shoved the barrel of his gun, no, two barrels, shotgun, into my back. "Now, Ivan." I complied, slowly walking into the alley, subconsciously tightening the strap of my bag. This wasn't my first time being mugged, but it was the first time guns were involved. A few asshats with knives, I can handle. Three guns, one not a foot from my back? Not a good situation...even so I couldn't help letting out a grumble. "What was that?" I let out a sigh,

"I said I'm from Texas, asshole." I said, straightening up and turning to face him. "What do you want from me?" I could see the shotgun now, and old side-by-side, half-concealed in the sleeve of a trench coat. The man himself wasn't much to write home about, twenty-something year old, old straight razor scar on his left cheek, around six feet, bit on the stocky side. He pushed the barrels closer to my body, angling them up to my head. To be honest that wasn't my best move, aggravating the man with a twelve gauge pointed at me, by still, I was kinda pissed.

"Oh this cowboy's got spunk does he? We'll see how smart your feel with your head blown in half. What's in the bag?" I heard the click of a hammer being pulled back, none of the other guys had drawn their guns. Not a hammerless model then. Good.

"Clothes, a bottle of shampoo. My razor."

"Now see, why don't I believe you?"

"Because you want to believe you pinched the right guy instead of having fucked up and grabbed some dumbass going down the wrong street to his hotel. Whoever it is you're looking for, it ain't me." I let out with a sigh, unzipping my bag, revealing said items, dumping it onto the floor, the package wasn't in there, what? You think I couldn't get the hint that I would be heading to someplace not exactly friendly? Oh no, after the first cabbie refused to drive me, I shrink wrapped the package and taped it to my chest. It was thin enough to where my baggy clothes wouldn't show it.

"Jacket, off, now. Empty your pockets, all of em, fuckin' Captain cargo-pants here." Asshole. I let out another sigh and did so, pulling out two things, my wallet and a souvenir bottle opener I picked up in Bangkok. I held onto them in one hand, opening my wallet and throwing what little cash I had on me to the asshole on my left. Around 2500 Thai Baht. Not much by any means, but definitely enough for a room in a cheap hotel.

"Boss, he may be right...he don't got anything other than tourist stuff. Passport, shaving razor, soap. We might've nicked the wrong guy." One of the people that blocked my path originally was going through my stuff. "Doesn't even got a piece or an extra pair of shoes." The guy holding me up turned to face the guy talking, jackpot. I lunged, grabbing the scattergun and slamming my foot into his wrist, I grabbed the collar of his clothes and pulled him in front of me, I put the shotgun to the back of his neck.

"Guns on the ground or I give this urod both barrels, capische?" I growled, and the fucker started laughing. The one with the shotgun to the back of his head. Laughing. What the hell was wrong with this place?

"Kid you've got balls, but unless you wanna lose 'em I suggest you drop me. You've got no idea how big of a shitshow you're stuck in right now." He stated, he had a smug confidence in his voice. I pulled back the other hammer.

"So your buddies can shoot me? No. Don't think so. I'm not stupid. Fuckin hell, wanna-be wise guys stay the same no matter where in the world you are it seems. Who you workin for eh? Six couriers? DeWitt deliveries? FedEx?" Yeah...you'd be surprised how low people will go to make sure they're the only ones delivering shit.

"Look kid, this is all just a big misunderstanding, alright? No need to do anything drastic. Just drop the gun. You'll be fine. Swear it."

"Now, see, why don't I believe you?" I stated, before shoving the fucker forward and blasting a barrel into his foot, his buddies dived for cover when I took aim at them, there was my chance and I took it, grabbed my bag and jumped off the dumpster onto the fire escape, I fired into the pile of guns as they were scrambling to get them. I made it to the roof before I heard gunshots ricocheting off of the building wall. Well this is just perfect.

"I WANT THAT BRAT DEAD, YOU HEAR ME? DEAD!" Brat? I'm nineteen you asshole. Honestly I don't get why people always called me that. Sure I was skinny but I didn't think it was that bad...okay back to the story. At this point I had jumped to an adjacent building and hid behind the roof access door, I had a good view, I could see them getting up the fire escape, practically climbing over each other to get to the roof, the guy I had shot in the foot was being helped by just one guy, however he had a gun in his hand. He's probably the guy that shot at me. The search party on the roof had missed me. They went into the building, I jumped to another building and made my way down to the ground floor while staying outside and bolted it towards my destination: Bougainvillea Trade company HQ. I actually made it to the door this time. There were a few guards but they didn't give me a second glance. I approached the welcome desk and greeted the clerk in Russian. "Zdravstvuitye, Jericho Yurevich Boyka here to deliver a package to a Ms. Vasilinov?" I said, standing straight and handing over my ID and passport. Had to look professional, despite having just escaped an attempted mugging.

"Da, Ms. Vasilinov will see you, her office is on the top floor, there are restrooms on each floor, I would suggest you use one to freshen up, Mr. Boyka." The receptionist replied, handing back my ID, "Boris, Mr. Boyka is here with the package, I'm sending him up shortly." With that she waved me away. After a quick stop in one of the aforementioned restrooms to remove the package from my chest and the cling wrap keeping it from getting all sweaty, I made my way up. At the elevators I was searched for weapons and then let up. I didn't mind the third degree, considering what had just happened to me not even a half hour before. I was greeted at the top floor by a large man with a scar running diagonally across his face, this must've been the Boris the receptionist was referring to downstairs.

"Mr. Boyka. Follow me." Well...man of few words it seems, I followed him and soon enough we were finally at my destination, the office of one Ms. Vasilinov. Said woman was tall, blonde, wore a maroon getup consisting of an above-the-knee skirt and dress shirt, she held a cigar in one hand and a phone in the other. Her body was marred with scars, one even clawing at the right side of her face, however that wasn't what caught my attention the most, it was her eyes, a dark blue, like looking at the soul of a shark always in frenzy. This wasn't a woman to mess with.

"Yes, Dutch, thank you. I'll be in contact with you for another job soon." She hung up the phone and addressed me with a nod towards the chair across from her. "Sit, Mr. Boyka, we have much to discuss." With a silent nod I did so. "By this point I assume you have deduced that my name is not Vladilena Vasilinov, Mr. Boyka. Please, call me Balalaika. Now, you have the package?" Balalaika...the person that turned my life on its head. God knows that I never should've taken that job, but nevertheless I saw it through.

"Da, Ms. Balalaika, here, it's still sealed." I retrieved the package from my bag and placed it on the desk, it wasn't large by any means, a cardboard box thinner than a VHS tape, but wider than a sheet of paper.

"Do you know what you've delivered to us, Mr. Boyka?" She held out her palm and Boris placed a knife into it, she quickly slit open the top, but placed the package down before extracting the contents.

"No, ma'am. I had orders not to open it, and, to be frank, idle curiosity isn't worth losing my job...or my life." I stated.

"Oh? What would make you believe your life is at risk, young Jericho?"

"Ma'am...if I may be frank, the only person in this building that doesn't have a gun or blade on them is me. I was mugged a block down by a bunch of-"

"Italians, correct? Not to worry, your accosters are being...dealt with, as we speak. Such a dirty business, asset delivery. Don't you think?"

"Ma'am?"

"The men that attacked you were small fry, working for the Italian mob that's branched here in Roanapur. Verrochio won't miss them."

"...they're dead and tossed in the ocean by now aren't they?"

"My you do pick up on things fast. You know what we are by now, I'm assuming."

"The Russian mafia, or a branch of. You're the leader. The big guy is likely your second-in-command."

"We are Hotel Moscow, young man. And you've done us a service. One we shan't forget. We would have used this job as a basis to continue hiring your company's services, however there needs to be a Dragon's Wing Express in order to hire a dragon's wing courier."

"...ma'am. The people in that company are a well oiled rifle. Reliable and capable of withstanding almost anything. Whatever you're implying, we'll bounce back." I didn't notice it myself then, but my voice had an edge to it that sparked Balalaika's interest, and seemingly worried Boris, because he spoke up.

"Mr. Boyka. Hotel Moscow had nothing to do with the assault on your company's headquarters. We received word this morning, just after your plane landed a group of men in masks stormed your building with milsurp weapons. They had a single sniper. There were no survivors, and the building was set on fire before they fled. At least, that's what the police have put together." He said, I let out a sigh.

"Mercenaries." I grumbled out "now I gotta find out who they are and who hired them." I grabbed my bag and stood up from the chair.

"Going for revenge already, young Boyka?" Balalaika quipped, lighting another cigar. I gave a shrug.

"As the sole survivor of the Dragon's Wing Express, I am contractually obligated to find the opposing party and either offer peace, or destroy them completely. Quite frankly, I'm not feeling very merciful right now. As the delivery has been completed, can I count on our previous agreement that travel arrangements will be made to deliver me back stateside?" I asked, Balalaika let out a laugh that chilled my soul.

"I can practically smell your bloodlust, Boyka. Sergeant, make the arrangements. Mr. Boyka, as your business partners Hotel Moscow will keep an ear out for intel concerning the mercenary group that attacked your company's HQ. There's a bar called the Yellow Flag, Go there and wait for Sergeant Boris. He'll show you your arrangements when they're done."

"Spasibo, Balalaika." And with that our conversation ended, I was handed a wad of cash by the clerk I had talked to on the way out. I got directions to the yellow flag from the sergeant himself, and then made my way there. I guess I must've looked disheveled after that experienced because I noticed a lot less eyes on me as I walked through the city of death. When I got to a bar there must've been a drinking competition going on because there was a crowd gathering at the bar, I took a seat a little ways away from the crowd but I could see the action. A Chinese woman and a Japanese man, both knocking back shots of rum. The bartender walked up.

"We don't serve milk here kid." He stated simply, he was a Vietnamese man, his voice was high pitched and gravely.

"I'm nineteen, bartender. Kvass please."

"Hotel Moscow's starting 'em younger and younger…you gotta name kid?" The bartender asked, fetching a glass and filling it with the dark brown liquid.

"Jericho. And I'm not working for Hotel Moscow. Just waiting on my travel arrangements to get back to the lone star state." I took a swig from the drink and let out a sigh.

"A Ruskie living in the states, that's different."

"My father was Russian, my mom was East Indian, they met in Kiev, moved to New Delhi, then emigrated to the states, with my mom expecting me. Three months after getting to Texas I show up, taking after my father."

"Sounds like they were running from something."

"I dunno, pa died before he could tell me or my step sis." I took another swig of my drink. "I don't know why I'm talking to you about this, the drink ain't spiked is it?"

"I ain't stupid enough to risk that in this town. Name's Bao, kid. I've got a feeling you're gonna be around here more often than not." I laughed and raised up my glass,

"I ain't an alcoholic yet, Bao. I'll be sure to come here at that point though." I ended up talking with Bao a good bit after this, learned that this bar was his pride and joy, unfortunately he often had to rebuild due to the violence this city was known for. Must've been a bad omen because soon after I heard jeeps pulling up outside, and rifles being cocked. Bao must've heard it too because he grabbed my shirt and yanked me behind the bar just as three grenades went off.

"BLYAT!" I yelled, ducking my head down, gunfire was slamming into the other patrons, as well as the bar we were hiding behind. A new voice spoke up,

"Oh hey you bulletproofed the bar." It was the Chinese woman, calmly sipping on a glass of rum.

"This baby can handle up to a .50 caliber." Bao remarked with a bit of pride, before his face went angry. "REVY! Are these assholes friends of yours?!"

"Don't know 'em." She replied,

"Why is it that whenever you're here someone manages to fuck up my bar?! Who's gonna cover this, huh? If I find out you had anything to do with this I'll weld your asshole shut and open up a new one in your head!" Wow...that's a scary thought.

"REVY, you okay?" Another voice, deep, older.

"I'm good, Dutch!" Revy called back, I caught a glimpse of the man yelling, he was African American, wearing a green vest, camouflage pants, and combat boots, his eyes were covered by simple shades.

"Benny?"

"Miraculously still alive!" Blonde guy, Jewish, he ducked for cover behind the doorway with Dutch.

"Rock?"

"Dead! We're all so dead!" That must've been the Japanese guy. He was panicking. The gunfire was slowing.

"Rock calm down. Revy! Why don't you give 'em a taste of two hands." Dutch seemed to be the leader

"Gotcha Boss." There's my confirmation. The gunfire stopped. I tensed up and cracked my neck.

"Head inside boys, I heard voices, and if Texas taught me anything, it's that there's nothing I hate more than survivors." …

"Bao, stay down." I let out in a whispered growl, I caught sight of Revy grinning like a maniac and unholstering her pistols. I didn't have a gun, but the fucker on the other side of the bar did, as well as a knife. Bingo. I rushed the bastard, he tried to fire, he was empty, dumbass. I took the knife out of its shoulder sheath and slashed his throat. His buddies shot at me, I used his body as a shield, Revy sprung up from behind the bar and started firing, she killed the people shooting at me, and I rushed into the group turning to her. Stabbed two of them kicked the last one into Revy's line of fire, I flung my knife into a shooter across the room, and kicked the gun out of the one closest to me's hands. Then proceeded to beat him into the ground with a flurry of quick kicks and a final hook to the temple, I picked up his gun and opened fire into his teammates.

"REVY! We're leaving!" Dutch yelled, I saw Rock dash through the door. Revy was using one of the mercenaries as a shield, taking shots at whoever she had a bead on. She never seemed to miss.

"Got it, Dutch!" She said, backing towards the door, all the people on the inside were dead, it was only the stragglers on the outside, and even they were loading up their jeeps. I grabbed the unconscious merc and dragged him behind the bar. The jeeps rolled off and Bao stood up, shotgun at the ready.

"Kid...whatever they fed you, where can I get some. People would pay top dollar for no self preservation instinct." Bao and I exited the bar, dragging the unconscious mercenary outside.

"A whole lot of curry, bread, and pelmeni. Bao...do you know where I can get some answers out of this asshole...him and his buddies busted up my company's HQ stateside. I'm about to exact some street justice." I said, leaning the man against the wall with a sigh.

"There are a few places, if you have the money you can take him to Sawyer. A Cleaner, works out of a building called UG pork. She'll get him to squeal." Bao dashed back inside, coming back with sets of handcuffs, a few strips of cloth rope, and a large suitcase….

"Bao, should I even ask why you have this stuff?" I let out with a sigh. This city was insane.

"I run a Brothel upstairs, helps with all the repair bills. Thought you were a bit too young and sober to try and get you up there and I ain't doing this for free kid. He dies slow. Hear me? Tell these words to Sawyer: He. Dies. Slow." his voice was cold, tired, definitely a 'done with this bullshit' kind of tone.

"Orders received, Bao, If Hotel Moscow comes by, tell them where I am."

It took me a few minutes to reach the aforementioned UG pork. Lugging the big suitcase around, with it occasionally shaking, I still managed to make it to the building, knocking on the door. An ambiguous figure opened the door,

"Bao directed me here, this is one of the guys that shot up his bar earlier, I'm here because him and his guys made this personal, I'll pay, and Bao only has one instruction: he dies slow." the figure seemed to nod, I couldn't much tell, they were in scrubs, goggles, and wore a medical mask, they moved to a whiteboard across the room.

"I'm assuming you want to get first go at him?" they wrote, I nodded before tossing the suitcase into the building and closing the door. It took a bit of work but with, I assumed, Sawyer's help I was able to get the struggling mercenary into a chair and secured to it. I undid the gag and moved around to face him, Sawyer had provided me a hygiene mask. "You don't want splatter getting into your mouth, its not a very nice taste, not to mention the diseases you might contract." she had wrote, oh yeah, Sawyer was a woman underneath all those scrubs apparently. Anyway. After a triade of cursing that would've made a drunken sailor proud, I gave the man a quick straight to the gut.

"You done?" I asked, yanking his head back up.

"You're fucking dead kid! You know who you're fucking with right now? We're not some gang, we're mercenaries, you'll be hunted down and made an example of." the mercenary yelled. I let out a shrug.

"And what exactly do you think I'm going to do with you, hm? Y'see. I don't particularly enjoy hurting people...but right now, I'm staring at someone who murdered a bunch of my friends, coworkers, and the closest thing I had to family. This, is personal, i have a feeling I'm gonna find myself enjoying it."

"Heh, then you know what's gonna happen to you when they find out what happened."

"Your buddies beat a hasty retreat, you got beat into the ground by a scrawny nineteen year old. They got no idea where you are, and that's just fine with me, because that means you and I can have a nice little chat."

"You ain't gonna get shit from me. When my guys find you, you're dead, you, your little pet butcher, you're gonna suck my dick in hell-" I cut off his triade with another punch to the gut.

"You won't be so sure when I put the Acetylene to ya." I growled into his ear. Sawyer brought out the said blowtorch, simply shrugging when I raised an eyebrow. "I'm gonna make this simple, because no matter whether you make this easy for us, or difficult, it's going to end the same way. You're going to tell us the name of your outfit, the name of your employer, and why you went after the Dragon's Wing Express Delivery Company. And however much pain you endure before you tell us is entirely up to you." I picked up the nozzle of the Acetylene torch and lit it quickly. "Please, please, make this difficult. I'm begging you." the sound of a chainsaw revving up behind me signalled Sawyer's enthusiasm. I was right about my earlier assumption, when i eventually did put the Acetylene to him, he wasn't nearly as tight lipped.

At the end of our little interrogation of the mercenary I learned a lot. First thing was that I could only put up the front of sadistic revenge-driven bastard for so long, after the third hour or so I left the room and hurled.

"The fuck am I doing?" I mumbled, leaning up against the outer wall of UG Pork. A new voice spoke up, synthesized.

"You are emotional, doing things you wouldn't normally do, you've been in a red haze and now it's clearing. You are not suited for this life." It was Sawyer, she had removed her mask, goggles, and bandanna. She was holding an Ultra-voice to her throat. I could see the faint lines of a scar, straight razor cut...jesus.

"I'm no stranger to crime. Or even being mugged...hell this isn't even my first time ending someone's life...it's just...its the way people are reacting that's getting to me. Like this is commonplace, and I'm not sure if thats whats getting to me or if it's the fact that I'm turning out to be good at this...blyat this is just fucked. No other way to say it."

"You're better at this than most, but I would not get ahead of myself if I were you. For one you cooked his hand for too long, he did not feel the full extent of the pain. Your removal of his fingernails was sloppy, and could have led to excessive bleeding that would jeopardize Bao's orders."

"He dies slow."

"Indeed"

"How much do I owe you?"

"Bao and I have a previous agreement, as such I'll only charge you for the use of my equipment...I'll admit, while you made amateurish mistakes at times, you definitely made good on your promise with the Acetylene. If you return to Roanapur after dealing with this...Kageyama, you may find work for you here, if you toughen up your stomach that is. Leave two hundred american dollars in the tip jar at the entrance."

"Got it." With those two words I walked out, with a lot on my mind. Turns out, Boris was waiting around the corner of the building, as well as a car.

"Mr. Boyka, I'm assured you're not going to get blood on the seats?" There was a ghost of a smirk on his face, I shrugged

"I'm clean, don't worry." I said as we entered the car. "So how is this going to work?"

"We've arranged for two options, as you've no doubt found out the individual that contracted Extra Order is a Masahiro Kageyama, an executive of Asahi Industries. Option one is for you to be taken back to the United States, where you could prepare your assault and make accommodations to Japan on your own expense. Balalaika advises against this. The second option is a direct route to Japan, where you will be provided with directions to the Asahi Industries building where Kageyama works. If you choose this route this will be considered another job for the Dragon's Wing Express from Hotel Moscow, you will be provided a Makarov, a knife, and, if you prefer, a Dragunov."

"Sergeant, I'm going to talk to the man. Not murder him without reason...hell I might just send a message...albeit a violent one involving broken bones and bloody knuckles but still."

-Japan, Two Days Later-

My Japanese was never the best. Hell I only learned it in the first place because of my sister went through an Otaku fase while I was in high school. Still, it was enough to realize that the locals...were really freakin racist. At least, the ones in the Asahi Industries Kansai building were. Either way, I was directed up to Masahiro Kageyama's office quickly and without much prying, which was good. The room itself was an actual room, the only windows being the ones on the outside.

"It is my understanding that you have a delivery for me…"

"Aye, Kageyama-san...although probably not the one you were expecting." the said package wasn't anything special, a bit of force tore through the paper and drew out the contents, a nine-millimeter makarov with a suppressor, the business magnate's eyes widened. "Stay seated, hands up. Keep your mouth shut and you may keep your head without any extra holes.

"Hotel Moscow sent you…"

"Oh no, I'm not a part of the mafia, this is a bit more...personal. You see, I am the sole remaining employee and now owner of the Dragon's Wing Express Courier Company. I came here for a single reason. And that is to know why. Why did you hire mercenaries to attack and destroy my company?" I stepped closer with each sentence, eventually standing right across from the man, the only thing separating us being his desk, my gun holding steady over his forehead.

"I see...I'm assuming depending on my answer you may or may not let me live."

"You've got it in one."

"You must realize that there was no personal ire against you or your compatriots. It was a simple business maneuver. Eliminate a tool before a threat can use it against you. Statistics, probabilities, logistics. All concluding that the elimination was the best move."

"You could've just sued, even if it was bullshit it would've tied us down. Why the excessive force huh? Why burn my friends alive, why send in psychopaths with guns? You're Japanese, your people fear firearms more than almost anyone on earth. We were a small outfit, no threat to your international conglomerate. "

"A show of force. Displays of strength often deter action of enemy factors."

"Sure as hell did the opposite this time." I growled, "I should rip you to shreds wit my bare hands for what you did...I really should."

"I would not stop you. I'm too old to fight off someone as young as you. This entire caseload has been nothing but trouble. If it's any comfort you do have my condolences. It was never meant to be personal...just business. " I let out another growl...fucking hell I wanted to pull the trigger. Would've been so simple. So easy...too easy. So I decided to do something worse. Something slow…

"Kageyama-san, you do not have my sympathies, and you do not have my pity. You gave the order to kill those I consider family...your own way of Bushido would allow me to remove your head in retribution...but no. You will deal with the consequences of your actions for the rest of your life. I would keep an eye on the news, Kageyama, there's a storm coming." with that spiel I hid the gun in my jacket and grabbed the business magnate by the back of his head, slamming his nose onto the edge of his desk. "OH GOD MR. KAGEYAMA ARE YOU OK?" I shouted, loud enough to be heard outside, I ran to the door and opened it, shouting outside "MR. KAGEYAMA FELL! I'M GETTING HELP!" I ran past many suddenly concerned looking salarymen, a few branching off to do what I had just said. I did not in fact get help, I made my way out of the building and into a waiting car, driving off and pulling out my cellphone and texting a message to my sister. We hadn't kept in touch for a while but I was still her baby brother...she would do me this favor. Janet Bhai was a lot of things, but a shitty hacker was not one of them.