It is an impromptu gathering spurred by a rare visit from the leader of the Russian criminal organization, Hotel Moscow, Balalaika, a tall, thin, mature beauty with a waterfall of butterscotch hair flowing straight down and just beyond the small of her back. Her demeanor businesslike, matching the scarlet of her knee length skirt, the pearl white blouse housing an abundance of cleavage that proudly bares her trademark souvenir, pale flesh burned and scarred on her right side snaking up to her face, rudely interrupting the glamor of her movie star good looks. It was an unwanted gift from her military service in Afghanistan as a paratrooper, earning her the crude nickname fry face among her "business" rivals in Roanapur, which she took as a compliment.
But the city of Roanapur is scorching in more ways than one and, apparently, the air conditioner at the Bougainvillea Trade Company offices has "broken down".
Revy, the infamous Lagoon Company gunslinger, and The Rip-Off Church's own Sister Eda are already seated at a table below a life-sized Crucifix when Balalaika arrives at the Church of Violence, a very attractive refugee from the brutal afternoon heat.
The unholy trio of cold-blooded killers begin chatting among the curls of smoke rising from a premium hand rolled Cuban cigar, intermingling with the swirling plumes from a pair of burning cherries on the ends of Natural American Spirit cigarettes. Ashes pile up in the ash tray.
A couple of fifths of Stolichnaya stand side by side in the middle of the table next to a bottle of Kentucky bourbon nearing its half way point, a soon to be casualty like the fifth of Bacardi lying dead on its side, a much earlier fatality and evidence of Revy's bad luck during her and Eda's now long abandoned card games.
The hours tick away.
What started as the occasional smirk, an escaped giggle soon become frequent bursts of laughter following the profane, morbid and vulgar wit spewing from the three women who know all too well that there is no need for any kind of respect and reverence inside the Church of Violence, which is already in short supply of Godliness with an even smaller demand.
Eda gets up from the table, still wearing a pair of cat eye sunglasses, lights three candles, placing them in the center of the table in holders, illuminating the three faces of the women with a soft glow, almost ceremonial, as the setting sun quickly ushers in the darkness that climbs to the high ceilings, filling the long front rows of empty pews inside the main chapel with their imposing shadows.
"Excuse me, Sister Eda," Balalaika says speaking in a soft yet commanding tone, somewhat seductive with a nearly undetectable Russian accent. "Why don't you just turn on the lights?"
"Well, according to Sister Yolanda, God only performs one miracle at a time in here, Miss Balalaika." Eda answers in mock formality, her nun's habit betrayed by a Glock 17L within her reach next to the bottle of bourbon. "The miracle of the day is the a/c and Revy knows what I'm talking about."
"Yeah, we kept begging the ol' whore almost every fucking day to get some a/c in here but she said the church couldn't afford it, which was bullshit. She just didn't want us in here drinking anymore. Fucking hypocrite. So Eda brings Rock one day to talk to her and the next thing we know there's fucking a/c cold enough to make me flash my high beams. Ol' skank! All that begging we did and she goes wrists to ankles for Rock."
"She's not the only one." Eda swiftly adds as Balalaika quietly looks on in amusement at another possible storm brewing between the two "friends".
Revy sharpens her killer's glare on Eda, piercing through the dark tint of her sunglasses but Eda is not intimidated. "Watch it you fuckin' tranny! Anyway, that horny ol' bitch probably has poor Rico trying to bang out the wrinkles on that salt and pepper snatch uh hers." Revy continues, unleashing her venom in the absence of the church's matriarch, who she openly despises, a view held by Balalaika as well. "It's no use of him trying to be a priest. He's already in hell!" She laughs to herself, taking a quick drag of her cigarette while leaning back in her chair enjoying the coolness of the church wearing her cut off jean shorts, combat boots and braless underneath her black tank top.
She's also secretly enjoying the camaraderie of the kindred trio, a guilty pleasure of sorts, however temporary with her two modified 92F Beretta Cutlass' holstered but ready for action.
"Shut the fuck up, Rebecca! Sister Yolanda's not here to defend herself. Besides it's better to have salt and pepper than cobwebs," Eda fires back pretending to defend Sister Yolanda but is really distracting from the truth Revy has unknowingly revealed. She takes a sip of her bourbon and asks Revy point blank, "When is the last time you got laid, bitch?"
"Yes, do tell, Rebecca. After all, it's just between us girls." Balalaika gently interjects puffing on a stogie, surprising Revy with her sudden alliance with Eda.
"Why the fuck should I?" Revy asks feeling somewhat uneasy and annoyed.
"Because you haven't fucked Rock you dumbass and I assume that's why he's still alive. What the fuck are you waiting for? Aren't you afraid your little lost Japanese lamb will find his way to much more greener pastures of the Rip-Off kind?" Eda teases propping her legs on the table and begins to slowly pull the hem of her nun's habit up to her knees, as she displays a Cheshire grin in the candlelight, "Who knows? It could become habit forming."
All three women bursts with laughter at the ridiculous prospect.
"You wish, bitch. Rock is a walking tampon," Revy says amidst the continued chuckles. "Besides, once he gets a gander at what's underneath that habit he'll lose his lunch or more likely switch teams."
"You know what? Fuck you, Revy!" Eda says backing off, unable to think of a comeback fast enough.
"Now, now girls." Balalaika interrupts the verbal sparring, quickly burying a laugh and remaining composed, as both participant and referee. The church immediately grows quiet. "Two Hands, you are avoiding the question which means the answer is all too obvious. I'm afraid Lagoon Company's top gunslinger has what I like to call the Roanapur Itch."
"Pardon me, Big Sis, but what the fuck are you talking about, an std?" Revy asks with her trademark surliness. Eda lights another cigarette and leans forward in a sudden show of interest.
"You two need to listen closely," Balalaika is about to begin in all seriousness like a battle hardened war veteran, a commander preparing her troops before engaging the enemy.
But then...
"Don't worry, mom. I'm using birth control," Eda jokes.
"Yeah, it's called your face," Revy swings at the soft pitch.
"Well, Rokuro doesn't seem to mind it." Eda catches the pop fly.
"You'd better leave Rock out of this!" Revy warns Eda. "Anyway, aren't you late for your nightly gangbang at the Yellow Flag where customers pay to drink but cum for free."
"Thanks for reminding me. I'll make sure Rokuro is the first in line." Eda continues to push Revy's buttons, or more to the point, an extremely sensitive one of the Japanese kind.
"If you mention his name one more time..." Revy threatens. Her hands reach for her Cutlass'.
"There's no need for that, Two Hands," Balalaika says calmly bringing some much-needed order to the discussion, like a teacher getting the attention of two unruly students. "I'm sure Sister Eda is just teasing. However, your jealous reaction only serves to prove my theory about the Roanapur Itch."
"Okay, Big Sis. I'll bite. What the hell is the Roanapur Itch?" Revy finally surrenders, while Eda relishes in the fact that she was able to get under Revy's skin and get a little payback.