Hey readers, Its been a hot minute since I've wrote anything so out of the abyss I return to give you content. Its good to be back to why not crack a bottle for one of my favorite anime, Black Lagoon. Gritty, in your face, real, and over all bad ass it inspired me to write again.

Enjoy it and remember to RR&FF

With Love ~Dresner

A heavy breath leaves him as he sinks into the couch more. The smell of fresh rain enters the room from the open window near him. Heavy storms were dew for the next few weeks which only meant two things: Power outages and flooding. The locals wouldn't be happy or law abiding once the street lights stopped coming on. The flooding would come later to hopefully put a end to all that, or at least that's what some thought when Katrina hit in 05. The television turned to static and the internet refused to load leaving him with his own thoughts and the last cigarette for the rest of the night.

"Damn the storm." He grunts attempting to lift himself up only to knock over his half empty bottle of Finlandia. "Fuck."

The vodka bottle smashes on the tile floor. In his drunkenness he throws himself to the floor to try and save the spirits, but to no avail. His shirt became soaked in booze and blood from his bleeding hands. If that wasn't enough his last cigarette soaked up some of it in the puddle before him. Drunk, tired, angry, and bleeding the fool lashes out at the coffee table throwing it over on its side as he gets up cutting his feet open on the broken glass.

"Let it go… Seriously.."

Her words echoed in his subconscious as he staggers to the bathroom with blood oozing from his feet. Whispers could be heard in the shadows among the rain as one wet step after another carried the battered man to the bathroom. He throws himself to the toilet to hurl the consumption into the netherrealm.

"Look at yourself…"

From his dilapidated throne he gazed up at the fading light of the flickering bathroom light toward the mirror on the wall by the sink. With what strength he had left from throwing his dinner away he throws himself to his feet.

"You lost weight… And sanity…"

Bloodshot and hollow eyes, greasy hair, five o'clock shadow, and paling skin. His feet begin to feel cold and wet. He wipes his hands and pulls glass from his palms slowly dumping them into the small trash can to his side. The white towel beside him turns red at his feet as he cleans up the blood and rapping them up just enough to stop the bleeding.

"Their you go…"

He throws the shower curtain open and tumbles in. The pain in his feet plants him firmly on his ass as the water rains from above. In his drunken state all he does is sit their as a mix of blood and dirt melts off his body into the drain.

"You can't wash it away…"

"Go to hell." He replies.

"Hell is to good for me. I'd rather be here with you."

He awakens from the trance and launches himself out of the shower. The pain electrifying his body with every step until he returned to the living room. The rain became worse blocking out all the windows and nearly blacking out the whole room if it wasn't for the TV in the corner filling the room with blue light. A gun laid on the table, its blued finish gleaming in the light of the static filled TV. A ora seemed to form around it in his mind, calling to him. A dark voice whispered in the shadows around him…

"Do it…"

The ominous clicking of a locked hammer…. The scent of gun oil and burning gunpowder...

The heavy thumping of rain against concrete slowly began to wake him. He could feel himself drowning almost as he pushes himself off the ground to find himself face first in an alleyway in the pouring rain. The man sat up vomiting water and bile beside him as he tries to keep himself from rolling onto his back.

"Fuck." He says as slowly began to regain some senses. The fading amber light of halogen car lights and the rumble of older model cars caught his attention in particular. The world was boring to him as everything began to lose soul, even the automotive industry as well. To actually hear a car anymore was rare as they all began to become conservative and quiet having more in common with caged elephants rather than wild and free beasts of the savanna. He tries to stand and nearly collapses to the ground with a piercing headache. Blood oozed from his nose and into the water below. He puts his hands on his temples and to his dismay they were perfect.

The man screams to the sky with rage cursing the gods above and the woman responsible.

"Alright junky that's enough!" The sound of a rather cranky cop shouted as flashlights shined on him.

"I'm not a junky, asshole." He replies to the cop catching a reflection in the water of a woman behind him.

"Still alive?…"

The man turns quickly to strike the woman. Instead of a punishing blow to the demon who robbed him of death it landed against the nose of a police officer. The officer fell to the ground on his back dead as a door nail. Clicking of revolver hammers locking in place from the hands of nervous policemen triggered his instincts and the other two policemen were thrown to their backs from a low roundhouse kick. He was lucky for one of them smashed his head on the ground cracking it open like a egg. The other dropped his gun in the fall as well as his flashlight. The man sprang on him smashing the cops skull into the ground till he could only feel the wet mush of crushed bone and brain matter.

"Still a murderer… Even in this new life I've given you…"

"To hell with you witch!" He screamed into the storm above.

"Hell is to good for us… So I brought us here…"

Sirens blare as the faint blue flashing lights of police cruisers drew closer. He snatches up both the revolvers and a gun belt from the dead police officers before dashing into the night.

"You can't escape that easy Karl." The woman chuckles darkly.

That name… That gilded name… The laugh… The arrogant verboten laughter of the succubus.

It followed him through the dark back streets of this city for what seemed to be a eternity. The alley opened like a stream to a river like main road packed with cars and tuc-tuc cabs. Signs written in some Asian language hinted to his location until he saw the obviously Asian skyscrapers in the sky. He knew he was in Asia, but no idea exactly.

"The fucking Orient Claudia?" Karl curses. The street lights were giving off more than enough light for him to realize what he was wearing was more than out of place in Asia. His grey track pants were still blood stained from his drunken doctors work on his hands and feet, The black A-shirt was torn, but at least his combat boots were still good albeit wet. But there was no time for a wardrobe change as more cops appeared from the sidewalk north and west of him.

A passing bus sends a tidal wave at him and in it he saw her face twisted in a demonic fashion with blazing red eyes and shark like teeth. "GGGGEEEEETTTTT OOOOOOUUUUUTTTT!"

Demonic laughter filled his ears as he charged across the streets with guns in hand. He runs. He runs faster than he ever ran before as the laughing grew louder and louder. The demonic face races across the sky after him as horns blaze from the angry drivers echo around him as he dashes across the street.

"Run little rabbit…. RUN!"

"RUN!"

The light fades away into darkness once more but the demon behind him drew ever closer with every chuckle. He turns quickly to fire his revolvers at the demon in a attempt to fight back, but only succeeded in blinding him from the muzzle flash from the snub nose .357 Magnum. Spots filled his eyes and laughter filled his ears until he hit the ground sliding across the wet concrete till he crashed into a dumpster. Pain shot through his side and left arm as if he were shot and could feel the blood dripping from his wounds. The demon appeared before him with a wicked smile in between the spots in his eyes.

"No place to run baby…"

Karl drew both the revolvers and empties them into the demon till the heart breaking sound of clicking hammers echoed in the alleyway. It was gone and in its place were three bodies of run of the mill street trash with knives in hand.

"Six… You've killed six people tonight…" The woman taunted him. Her caijin drawl in full swing only made her words more ominous. "But don't worry Karl, You're still a good person…"

"Come out and face me." He replies as he rips the shirt off one of the men to rap his wounds. "Come on! Face me. FACE ME!"

"Maybe if you ask nicely." She chuckles.

"Maybe you need to fight fair for once." Karl hisses as he struggles to his feet. "Instead of sending me across the fucking world with your FUCKING MAGIC!"

"My magic isn't to blame for this, cherr." She replies as her figure appeared in the rain. "You wanted to end it all, but it isn't as easy as you think especially since we made our agreement."

The slim figure of Claudia appeared in the rain dressed gypsy rags with brown leather boots. "You're mine till I say otherwise. You gave your life away years ago and there is no going back on your word. Now your going to do something for me here in this dead city."

"And what would that be?"

"Suffer."

Suffer… With that word she melted into the storm leaving him wounded, no cash, and lost in a city he didn't know.

Hours later…

The rain seemed to have no end as another blanket of hot rain fell on him. He tried finding shelter but it was as if every damn house and business had a iron gate. To his surprise he found a open garage to a large warehouse. It almost seemed like a tunnel to paradise through the pouring rain and darkness. When he entered he was rather surprised to find while it was well lit, but quiet and rather tranquil or as much as a warehouse could be. Unlike most warehouses it was mostly covered with light blue with red smires on the walls. The smell of blood in the air gave away that this was a meat packing warehouse which explained the red smires.

"There has to be some medical kits or at least some booze to clean the wounds. Damn third world shithole has to at least keep pure grain booze in the med cabinet." He says as his boots click against the tile floor.

Turning a corner he finds a large open room near another garage door with a large drain in the middle of the floor. A large meat hook lingered above the drain swinging gently from side to side with a eery creak. He could feel a presence still lingering in the room and he pulls out one of the revolvers just incase someone here wanted to pick a fight. After his run ins with the police and some locals it seemed this place wasn't the most hospitable place on earth.

"Maybe killing those three was a good idea." He says as he looks at the revolver. Karl noticed it was S&W Model 10 with a strange asian markings along the barrel. "Import markings… Hmmm. Southeast Asian maybe? The characters are more southern than their more northern neighbors. Thai? Viet? Maybe Laotian? Can't be Viet, They would have issued Makarovs by now. Hmmm…"

He spots a sink with rags, a bottle of everclear, and a small medical kit with a hand drawn red cross. "Thank the gods." He says as he moves to the sink with a purpose to clean himself up. "And their is soap, Hot damn."

Though Claudia had whisked him away to the orient with nothing but the cloths on his back she didn't bother to clean him. He turned on the faucet and started washing his face and arms. With the medical kit he patched himself up and cleaned his wounds with the everclear.

"Damn those bastard." Karl says as he takes a drink from bottle. "Damn the blade and those fucking cops. And damn that woman for sending me here."

Footsteps echoed behind him and from the corner of his eye he could see a figure dressed in doctors garbs with a blood covered apron and a mask. The figure steps into view with a large chainsaw dripping with fresh blood from its chain.

"Busy night doc?" Karl asks the figure, eyeing the rather disproportionate sized chainsaw.

The figure looks over at the tool and back at him nodding.

"I'm not here to hurt you." Karl says bluntly. "I'm not from here and so far no one from the police to the local junkies wants to help me." He points to the slashes on his arm and chest as well as the deep cut into his shoulder. "Sorry to intrude in your workplace, The dark and the rain didn't help me. Though if you wish to wash that chainsaw in my chest… I would not hold it against you."

The figure shrugs and reaches for the pull cord on the motor.

"Then so it be." Karl replies with a matter of fact tone. "I can respect your decision. Though if you are going to kill me, I want to see the face of my killer. At least give me that respect."

The figure stops and looks back at him in confusion. What confused Karl was the device the figure drew from his back.

"I am a little confused." The figure said in a robotic voice. "Did you say you wanted to see my face?"

"Yes." Karl says leaving the revolver on the table.

"Usually they just scream and beg for mercy." The figure said putting away the device in a holster as he removed his mask and goggles. To his surprise it was a young goth girl under the mask with scars on her neck. "You're not like my customers or the cattle they bring me. What are you doing in my office?"

"It was the only place for a wounded tourist to get out of the rain." He replies as he watches her body language.

"Understandable," She said as she put the chainsaw down cutting the tension in the room down to a acceptable level. "So you wanted to get out of the rain? Why not go to the bars nearby?"

"I've lost a bit of blood, stabbed a few times, and-" Karl pauses as the image of the demon flashed in his eyes.

"And?" The girl asks him awaiting an answer.

He closes his eyes and shakes his head. "Nothing. I think I might have lost a little to much blood. I don't know how I got here, this city."

"You look like you've seen a ghost." She replies, her robotic tone giving off a strangely sympathetic vibe.

Karl turns off the water and stares blankly into the full sink of reddish ooze. The reflection of a old man of forty with heavy five O'clock shadow, recessed green eyes, and thick black hair cut short. Hard to believe this old man was only thirty two years old, but war and depression ravages men from young studs to old men or the walking dead.

"You can say that." He replies quietly. "Excuse me, but I didn't ask you what your name was."

"Frederica." She says as moves closer to him. "But mostly people call me Sawyer the Cleaner."

Frederica is a short woman of around 5ft 3 or so with short black hair and ghostly eyes. Compared to the 6ft Karl she wasn't much, but the way she moved the large chainsaw with no effort said something for her physical abilities.

"Karl, Karl Dael." He replies letting out his hand for a handshake. Frederica looked at his hand and back to him rather surprised, or at least he thought she was by the slight change in her glare. After what seemed to be a eternity she removes her gloves and firmly shakes his hand. He gives a relieved smile and returns it to her.

"Cleaner eh?" Karl asks her as he pulls out a needle and thread from the medical kit. "Judging by the large saw and the meat hook, You're cutting up something bigger than a cow."

"You can say that." She replies with a slight sadistic smirk.

"Cleaner." Karl replies. "You clean up after people. Why else would you use a legitimate chainsaw rather than the tools of the butchery trade?"

"Those are for the front. That is for my real job." She replies pointing at the chainsaw.

"Knew it." Karl says as he threads the needle. "We had guy that did this. Use to be a butcher and a surgeon, believe it or not. Polish guy from Żagań who use to work on a farm and later became a surgeon for the Polish Army. He could make a messy wet work look like nothing happened."

"A professional." Frederica says with a slight smirk.

"Indeed." Karl replies as he tries to stitch himself up and failing. Frederica stops him and takes the needle.

"You're making it worse." She says bluntly. "Have you ever done this before?"

"No. Have you?"

"On the corpse of a dealer who cheated my employer out of fifty grand." She says as she sows up the cut on his arm with ease. "He wanted him to look good as new after I hollowed him out and his men filled his chest with C4."

Karl was surprised to hear something so cruel and so bluntly said from such a young girl. Even with the voice box it was deadly cold. "For what reason?" He asks her.

"For his funeral." She replies with a smirk. "The cartel believes they are the cruelest faction here in Roanapur. Then my employer gave them something to mourn."

"Huh." Karl says with a mix of disgust and intrigue at her story. "Smart, underhanded as well, but smart."

She bites the excess string off the sealed wound and moves to the next one on his shoulder. She couldn't help but admire his tattoos as she motions him to come with her to the back. "I'm too short to reach your shoulder. Come with me, but leave the gun here."

"I will." He replies reluctantly and follows her. To his surprise she leaves the chainsaw behind as well. Maybe he could trust her…

"What was the name you said? Roanapur, was it?" Karl asks as they walk through the warehouse section.

"Yes." She replies as they round the corner to a break room with a old green couch and what looked like to be a changing room by it.

"Hmmm, What country are we in?"

"You really are lost." She says as she removed some of the protective clothing. "Thailand."

Karl didn't know anything about this place, but what he could gather it wasn't the best place to be. The cops, the locals, and now a cleaner. He wouldn't recommend it so far to anyone. He gave a troubled glare and thanks her for the info. Frederica ignores him and goes to the changing room. Karl sits down and takes a breather running his hands through his hair.

"Great… Just great…" He thinks to himself. "I have no idea where in Thailand I am and zero contacts in this country…. No… That's what she wants…. To give in, to panic. No… I'll have to make them…"

Fredrica returns wearing a more gothic attire of dark purple. She takes a seat next to him and begins stitching him up like a taxidermist.

"What part of Thailand?" He asks her bluntly.

"You really don't know where you are." She replies. "We are on the coast. Toward Cambodia and a day drive from Bangkok."

"I've never been here before or to Indochina either." Karl says as she hits a nerve with the needle.

"Sorry." She apologized. "I'm not use to using a needle on a live subject."

"How old are you Frederica?" Karl asks as she finishes the stitches on his shoulder. Frederica douses the stitches in everclear to clean it and takes a sip from the bottle.

"Nineteen." She says to Karls surprise.

"Nineteen years old?!"

"In this city," She says with a noticeably heavy heart. "You grow up quickly."

"And you do whatever it takes to survive, eh?" Karl says with deep understanding. "Even if it means doing dirty work."

"Mercenary? Bounty hunter?" Frederica replies, trying to change the subject. "The scars and tattoos scream military or extremist."

Karl chuckles, "I'm a old soldier, yes, and a mercenary. I've been a mercenary since I was twenty two."

"How old are you, old man?" She asks him with a sneer. His tone was rather arrogant to her ears like that of Balalaika or Mr. Chang, two people she didn't like in the slightest.

"Thirty five." He replies honestly. "Though I look older, don't I? Hehe. The war did that to me."

"Afghanistan?"

"Never been."

"Huh." Frederica replies and gets up to get something from her office.

"No." He replies as he looks over her handy work. "What made you say Afghanistan?"

"You said you have never been to Southeast Asia." She says as she returns from office with another bottle of everclear. "Care for a drink?"

"Sure. Thank you." He said taking the bottle and drinking a couple of gulps.

"I was never in Afghanistan." Karl said as he began to remember some of the place he fought on in his youth. "I mostly did wet works in the Americas and Europe, my employers mostly operated there and at the time both of these regions were more hectic than the middle east or the middle kingdom could ever be. Things have changed over the years, but war remains the same. The only difference is most of the combatants don't bother having a uniform or a flag to unite them, only money binds them together. Damn this war economy."

"Surprising." She said as she finishes a gulp from the bottle. "I thought you were with Hotel Moscow by the way you carried yourself. Who do you work for?"

"No one. I'm not for sale anymore." Karl replies as she hands him back the bottle. "Hotel Moscow, Russians. Bratva. What made you think I was working with them? I'm not exactly your spitting image of a Russian."

"You're right, but the tattoos on your left arm are Russian prison tattoos." Frederica points out. "Some of the people the Triad have brought me had some form of those tattoos. At least when they were fighting years ago."

"Correct." Karl says as he takes another drink. "But I didn't get them in Russia, I got them in North Korea."

He quickly takes another gulp and changes the conversation before the memories came back to him about his time there in the DPRK. "Bratva… Triad… Chinese Triad I assume?"

"Hong Kong Triad." She replies as she begins to feel a bit tipsy and sway back and forth.

Karl groans and takes another drink. This night felt like a nightmare and no matter how much he drank it wouldn't kill the horror or wake him up from it. He looks over at the young girl sitting next to him sharing the bottle of spirits with some regret and pity for her. The once proud mercenary was now deduced to sharing a bottle of everclear with a nineteen year old butcher in some backwater he never heard of.

"You ok kid?" He asks her as she sways from side to side.

"A little hazy, but I am fine." She replies with some slurring.

"I'm surprised you decided to get drunk with a stranger."

"You're different than the scum come through my door." Frederica says as she lays back in the chair relaxing herself. The tension was gone and strangely Karl felt the same calm in the air as well. "And besides, I like you."

"I guess there isn't many people here that aren't scared of you, eh?"

"Yes. They mostly just give me a body or a victim to cut up to make a statement to someone." She replies drunkenly. "You're not scared, just out of your element. I was once too. Such a gentleman too."

"You need some rest Frederica." Karl says to the girl as she finally tilts over onto his shoulder passing out instantly.

He smiles as he admires his new friend blacked out on his shoulder. Karl turns to let her lay down on his chest so they could be somewhat comfortable on the couch in the cold meat packing plant. He takes a heavy breath and closes his eyes in hopes of actually sleeping after walking into a nightmare.

But he knew Claudia wouldn't give him the luxury. But after all… He did kill her daughter.