My first Black Lagoon one-shot ever. I bought the series on boxset, and I loved it.

I don't own Black Lagoon, but please tell me what you think of this one-shot. Thank you.

Merry Christmas.

Nazi Death.

Revy watched as Dutch left her in the corridor while he went to confront the commander, and to cool down from her 'Whitman fever' as Dutch called it - she hoped he left something of the motherfucker for her to deal with, but even if he didn't she didn't really care. She had killed dozens tonight, her emotions were still swirling around her like a hurricane. Ever since she had given Rock the lessons of life in that tin can at the bottom of the ocean, and when those skinhead bastards had attacked them inside the cramped remains of the U-boat, her mood had darkened, and even the slaughter of the Neo-Nazi's hadn't done much to calm her down.

Neo-Nazis.

Just thinking about them made her insides clench with contempt. They might have had big guns and they might've been good at using them, but when it came down to it, they were unbelievably pathetic. They had the uniforms alright, attitudes were definitely spot on, but truthfully they were stupid. When she had been growing up in New York and her life became darker, Revy had encountered her own fair share of Neo-Nazis and other skinheads.

They were all the same in her eyes - they were just a bunch of fuckers who lashed out at people they didn't like, and if those people happened to worship a different religion, had darker skin, then great. Revy had met, and killed, dozens of Neo-Nazis. If you had had the type of criminal career that she had had, then you would encounter Neo-Nazis a few times, either in person or by word of mouth.

They were brutal bastards, extreme, and each group sprouted out their own form of propaganda which was basically a replaying of the shit Adolf Hitler had used, but while they believed their own propaganda they had never been in the same league as Hitler or any of the other fascist fuckups.

The Nazi's were not the only people on the ship she had lost control on. She had also attacked the crew of the ship, seeing them as accessories to the Nazis. Who cared if they were innocent or not? If they truly weren't with these guys, and if they knew what they were carrying - machine guns, rifles, missiles - and saw them use those weapons, and trying to shoot down two divers (namely her and Rock) and nearly destroying their own ship, why didn't they contact the navy and supply them with photos of the Nazi's in uniform along with pictures of their weapons, and some basic coordinates? That was what the Internet was good for, right?

But no, they'd just rolled over and let them onboard. They had let the Nazis pipe that disgusting anthem that Benny and Dutch had described after she and Rock had managed to get back to the boat, they had let them shoot at the boat, and at her and Rock. To them, the Nazis were just another job, sorta like the one the Lagoon company had been given to get that stupid painting (she still thought it was crap though she didn't know what had made the Nazis go to so much trouble to get hold of it, she had seen splatters of puke that looked better than that).

Revy let out a breath, but then she paused when she heard a noise and swiftly turned in that direction. A wooden door was smashed in half, and a huge man appeared, dressed in full Nazi uniform that looked neater than the ones worn by the others she'd seen tonight.

"So, you're still alive, little girl. I compliment you on your audaciousness," the Nazi spoke in a loud voice that took Revy a little by surprise - shouldn't he be killing her by now instead of talking to her, and coming off like a truly bad comic book villain?

The Nazi walked over to her until he loomed over her. She found the gap in the top of his jaw interesting, but she quickly lost interest - he'd probably lost that tooth in a fight. "The name I have proudly carried since birth is Fritz Stanford," he went on. Why the hell should she care about his name? He lifted his head so she could see his wide eyes - the eyes of a fanatic. "I am the acting captain of the glorious Aryan Socialist Union, and you a nefarious graverobber. This is clearly the most fated of confrontations."

Okay, now he was becoming unbearable to listen to.

Again, what made him think she cared about his rank and who his organisation was? They were all the same anyway in her mind.

The more she let him speak, the more convinced she was he had watched some (allowed under Nazi propaganda) films and TV shows which showed the villain gloating over the hero, and he had just adopted some of their pathetic antics without taking a good long look at the real world.

That was the problem with Nazis today - they were so full of themselves and believed in their own fucked up shit, but they didn't take one look at the world around them and saw the world didn't even need them. Besides, they wouldn't last five minutes in a place like Roanapur. If they tried then Revy knew they'd be slaughtered; the gangs might be at each other's throats, but they wouldn't stand for fuck-ups coming in and trying to take over.

"For the sake of those who died for the union," Stanford went on, reaching for his own weapon while Revy simply ejected the spent clip from one of her guns - the Nazi didn't even notice, "you shall atone with your blood!"

No way, she thought to herself.

Stanford held up his gun and he was so so absorbed in it Revy doubted if he would even notice if she just walked away. "Behold," Stanford practically bellowed as he pulled the toggle on the gun - and for the first time she paid the barest amount of attention to the weapon. She recognised it as a beefed up Luger, and it was gold plated (god, was this guy trying to compensate for something, and she had to wonder if this guy had had this thing custom made to resemble the guns used in the Second World War). "Witness this mighty gun I wield. I call it the Eisenreich Luger special," Stanford went on, so thoroughly turned on by the gun, Revy wondered if he was getting a hard-on just looking at it.

Revy just stopped paying attention to him go on as she worked on reloading her own guns - she heard him say something about "artillery long," and "hardened carbon," and something about it being one of a kind. Revy was getting such a headache she didn't pay him much attention. She fought the urge to rub her eyes to relieve the pain, which wasn't helped by the loud voice she was hearing from the Nazi who was only pissing her off even more.

Why the hell was he toying with her, for fuck's sake?

Why wasn't he even trying to kill her?

Did he truly think she was impressed by him?

Couldn't he tell she wasn't interested in either him or his gun? She didn't care one bit about the gaudy thing, not when she had guns that, to her, were better than most. But she did pay attention to him when she noticed in her peripheral vision he was pointing the rifled barrel of the luger, or whatever it was fucking called, at her head.

"I am the only one on Earth capable of taming this terrible gun," Stanford went on, and she closed her eyes - both to relieve some of her headache, but also to try to drown out the loudness of the Nazi's voice. It didn't work.

Stanford laughed. "Are you afraid?" He taunted, and her anger rose in her chest. She had been pissed off since she had boarded this ship, and being shouted at by a Nazi while he boasted about his name and his fucking gun when he should be shooting at her like the others had done was not doing her temper any good. If there was one thing Revy really hated it was morons who bragged first and didn't shoot later.

They deserved to be put down.

"There's no way you're not," Stanford was either incredibly blind or unobservant, otherwise he would have known to shut up. "Now witness the awesome power of-" he held up his gun, but Revy just shot him in the chest, partially to kill him but more importantly to shut him up. The Nazi just collapsed to the ground. Pathetic. Revy had seen transvestites fall to the ground from a bullet wound do a better job than this guy, some of them even had enough balls to keep standing for a bit.

"Shut the fuck up! Couldn't you see I wasn't even listening? I mean, were you trying to sell me the damn gun, or what?" she sneered down at him as he struggled to keep his head up. So much for being supermen, she thought to herself privately.

Stanford was in a bad way as he tried to lift himself up, using whatever strength he had left in his body to do it - he had a bullet wound to the chest, and blood was pooling down from his right nostril. "You-fucking-coward-!" Stanford tried to say, but she didn't pay much attention to the last word and planted her foot firmly on his chest and pressing him down, making him whimper in pain as she jammed the barrel of one of her guns into his forehead.

He immediately shut up, and their eyes met. Revy had known for a long time you could tell a great deal about someone just by looking into their eyes, so she was curious about what Stanford could see in her eyes now he was quiet for the first time to pay attention to her. She wondered if he could finally see what most of the population of Roanapur could see whenever she was around - a cold-blooded killer with a tendency to explode with rage if pushed.

But she didn't care.

Stanford had had the opportunity to kill her, the mighty Revy 'Two-hands' and he had blown it for his ego.

"Now it's my turn to talk. Here's some advice - if you can hit your target, pretty much any gun would do the trick," she grinned sadistically down at him as she pressed the barrel deeper into his forehead, making him shake due to the blood loss but also the fear he was probably feeling that he was going to die in a moment. She didn't care.

"Now that's one to go on. Say hi to the Fuhrer for me, would ya?" Revy grinned sarcastically and sadistically down at Stanford as she fired her gun, ending the Nazi's life without a shred of pity, and she stood up. Ignoring the gaping hole in the forehead as she stood up and the look of frozen pain and fear on Stanford's face as she did, dragging the barrel of the gun away from the dead body.

Revy had no idea if that fuckup was the last Nazi apart from the commander - Dutch wouldn't kill him, not just yet. She knew he wanted to get some clear answers from him about what was going on, but she didn't care. She left the corridor, keeping her weapons ready while she searched each room in case there were Nazis still onboard that were either lying in wait or hoping to keep quiet so they could escape.

There was a sound like someone smashing a bedroom in a tantrum, and as Revy approached she could overhear an aged voice coming through a phone line. "…as for you, black man, that was a splendid job. If you had were fortunate enough to be born an Aryan, I would have sent you an Iron cross."

Dutch's signature gravelly growl replied but it was deeper, and Revy could tell he was pissed off a little at the insult. "I don't want one. All I want is the money, y' old Nazi fuck."

So, these guys were being controlled by a puppet master, an older Nazi? Interesting, and she guessed that it was the same so-called antique dealer who'd sent them on this merry cruise in the first place. If Revy had had the time, she would have tried to hunt him down, but there was no doubt in her mind he would probably be long gone by the time she got there.

Revy tuned out the old man's reply as she leaned against the door, just wishing Dutch would just get on with it, and put a shell into the fat man she could see in the chair behind the office desk, and her eyes caught sight of the wrecked room, but she doubted Dutch had done it; her boss didn't go in for trashing places, not when he could kill whoever was in them.

So, that meant the commander himself had wrecked the room, but she didn't see the point in getting answers now - she could ask Dutch when they left.

"….I sincerely wish your kind will one day be wiped off the face of this planet."

"Thank you kindly," Dutch growled. "And I sincerely wish that you rot in hell." Using the butt of his shotgun, Dutch smashed the phone he'd probably set to speaker mode so the commander could take part in the conversation in half.

Revy grunted impatiently and knocked on the door. "Come on, are you still not done cleaning up?" She looked up and out of the corner of her eyes she examined the fat bastard sitting behind his desk, shaking and wide-eyed with either anger or fear, she didn't care which. "So, is guy here the commander?"

"Yeah."

Revy grinned and walked slowly into the room, making sure the commander saw her face, and her sadistic delight in the way he blanched made her as happy as when she had killed Stanford.

"Wanna make a bet Dutch, ya know, the usual?" Revy asked, anticipation heavy in her voice.

Dutch grunted impatiently with the air of a father being exasperated with a child who wanted him to retell a story but was going to relent anyway. "It's really not much of a bet, Revy."

Revy knew that and so did Dutch - ordinarily, whenever they made this type of bet, it was usually always over someone who had the balls to prove they weren't cowards.

But this guy - just looking at his fat form even in that chair, shaking with anger (she could see it in his eyes now she was closer to him to take in his expression, but she didn't bother asking either him or Dutch what that phone call was all about, she could do that later), she knew he was nothing really.

"Let's just try it," she said, holding up one of her prized guns,"Here you go, old man. Knock yourself out."

She threw the gun on the desk before the commander's bewildered eyes. Revy didn't need to be a genius to see what was going through his brain, why are they giving me this chance to kill them?

Revy folded her arms and leaned against the door. "I say black," she said casually like she was placing a bet on a horse race or a boxing match.

"I already told ya, it's not much of a game. I say black, too," Dutch said in exasperation, but quickly finishing with his own bet. Revy hid a smirk, though truthfully she knew he was right - this was not a game, it wasn't even a bet. They both knew the gun was empty.

The Nazi commander lifted the gun, taking the bait like they'd expected him to, probably taking in the skull and crossed swords logo on the weapon, but Revy could tell from his shaking hand and whimpers the commander was going to use the gun, but the problem was they didn't know what he planned to do with it.

Would he a, try to commit suicide, or b, would he try to shoot Dutch or even herself?

Revy and Dutch watched as the commander whimpered and lifted the gun to his head, shaking and sweating. Revy sneered at his pathetic expression even as he tried to decide what to do, his instinct to survive clashing with his desire to get revenge before he let out a scream like a madman. He pointed the gun at Dutch. He pulled the trigger, but the gun clicked empty a couple of times to confirm his senses were telling him the truth, that the gun was empty.

Dutch turned to Revy. "I told you, 's not that much of a bet."

Revy laughed, and when she stopped she turned to the commander and sneered at him darkly which made him pale and quiver with fright. "Y'know, I thought the commander might surprise us and actually show some balls," she said, speaking as much to the commander so he knew she thought he was a cowardly piece of shit. "But I guess I was wrong," she pulled out her second gun, the one she knew was still fully loaded. "These guys are all the same, pathetic to the end."

The commander collapsed into his chair, whimpering and shaking with fear, looking up at them pleadingly. Baby seals must look up at hunters in the same way before hunters killed them, Revy thought idly, though, in the case of the commander, it was probably more fitting to describe a young black kid surrounded by hundreds of guns, knowing he would never get out alive.

For a moment, Revy took in the commander as he leaned back in his chair, shaking with fear but knew he couldn't do anything, couldn't say anything to save his worthless life, knew that he would soon be joining the bastards he'd commanded so badly with his Aryan superiority bullshit, and had let everyone become so overconfident in their 'superiority' they were left open to attack.

She wished she had Adolf Hitler here instead of this pathetic shit, just so she could see the ugly bastard cower before someone that his very doctrine described as inferior shot him, but she also remembered this bastard had authorised his men to fire on her and Rock in the water.

Revy felt her anger return at the thought of Rock being threatened in such a way, never mind the fact she had held him at gunpoint more than once, and he had just managed to survive the shootout at the Yellowflag, but she pushed that aside for now (she was still confused about her feelings for Rock, but this wasn't the time to think about them).

Together she and Dutch stalked towards the desk, guns pointing right at his chest. "You're right about that," Dutch said. "Let's finish this job."

"Fucking A."

Revy knew she and Dutch would be having words in a short time, but she didn't care. This guy was just another pig for them to slaughter, and he did look like a pig. They pulled the triggers of their guns.

Oink. Oink. Oink.