Placebo

plä-chā'bō

–noun
Roman Catholic Church - The service or office of vespers for the dead.

Disclaimer: Black Lagoon and its characters © Rei Hiroe

The light from the morning sun created a glorious facade as it struck the Church of Violence; the building appeared to glow. Butterflies fluttered in the exotic foliage that surrounded the area, and the small Corella cockatoo resting on its perch chattered while it preened its feathers. Sunshine spilled through a window and struck a sleeping woman with golden hair. With a small groan, she slowly opened her bright blue eyes.

Registering the morning light on her face, the woman shut her eyes and muttered an obscenity under her breath. She turned her back to the window and pulled the blanket over her head.

Stupid sun, she didn't need it shining in her face while she was fighting a hangover. She grit her teeth as she felt a throbbing in her skull. It was terrible. There was no way the pain could get any worse.

"EDA!"

Unless some idiot slammed her door open and came running into the room screaming like a maniac.

"Damn you, Rico," Eda groaned. What the hell did he want? The apprentice priest shook her blanketed body.

"Sis! Sis! Get up! You gotta come with me! It's bad! Really bad!"

"I told you not to call me 'sis,'" she hissed under the sheets.

"Come on! Get up!" Rico promptly ripped the blanket off of Eda. The blonde woman glared at him through bloodshot eyes.

"Rico, you jackass, can't it wait 'til later?"

"It can't!" Rico grabbed her by her wrist. "You need to come with me now! It's important!" Eda tore her wrist from his grasp and placed a hand over her eyes.

"I don't give a damn if the bird learned a new phrase. Let me sleep."

"This isn't about the cockatoo!" Rico shouted desperately, agitating Eda further. His screaming was the equivalent of a pickaxe going through her head.

"Leave me alone, Rico. It's too early for this." Eda turned face down in her pillow, hoping that the young apprentice priest would get the message and let her rest in peace. She had no such luck.

"But sis–!"

"GODDAMNIT, RICO? WHAT? WHAT IS SO FUCKING IMPORTANT?"

"Yolanda is dead!" Eda's rage disappeared. She sat up straight and put a hand behind her ear to see if she had heard him correctly.

"...Yolanda is dead?" she asked quietly. Rico nodded in confirmation.

"How do you know, Rico?"

"I was up doing maintenance. I usually see Yolanda by the alter; you know she's always up earlier than everybody else. But she wasn't there this morning. That's not her usual routine. I was worried there was something wrong. I went to her room to see if she was sick and she was in her bed and..."

"Yes?"

"She wasn't moving." The answer was simple, but it got the point across.

There was a moment of silence. Eda let the words sink in. While the elderly woman's stern discipline and blatant dislike of her drinking in the chapel grated her, for the most part, Eda did have a good opinion of the woman. If she was being honest with herself, Yolanda was one of the few people Eda had grown to trust in this godforsaken city. Yolanda was her informant and confidante, she gave her guidance. To suddenly wake up to hear that she was dead...

"I see," Eda whispered. She lowered her head and closed her eyes.

"I'm going back to sleep." She turned away from Rico and got back under the covers. Yolanda was dead. There wasn't anyone there to scold her for sleeping in, so she could rest all she wanted and let the hangover ebb away. Good for her.

Rico's jaw dropped.

"What? Wait, sis!" He shook her again. "Aren't you a little bit upset? Is it so much to go back to see her with me before we inform everyone else in Church?"

"Don't call me 'sis'," she muttered. Her eyes clenched shut, and she lifted up her hand and waved. "Relax, Rico, we can see the Ripoff Mother Superior later. Unless she's Jesus, she won't be waking up anytime soon. She won't go anywhere."

"Eda! How can you think about nursing your hangover at a time like this? Yolanda is dead!"

"Yes, you have made that very clear to me, Rico."

"No! I mean, don't you get it? Yolanda is dead. This is really serious, sis," he said worriedly. "She controlled the Church, she created the Church. She's the reason it exists! Now that she's dead, there's no one at the helm to make sure everything works! Without her, the Church will fall apart!" Eda grunted and rolled her eyes. She turned toward him.

"Rico, don't be stupid. Yolanda might have run this place with an iron fist, but that doesn't mean her death spells out the end. She taught us all about the Church functions, and there are enough people in the organization to conduct the work properly. Even at its worst, we'd still have a few more years left before this place goes to hell." The words did provide some comfort for the normally laid back apprentice priest.

"I guess... But we have to do something about this," said Rico. With a deep exhale, Eda nodded.

"We'll make funeral arrangements later–"

"We must avenge Sister Yolanda!" Rico pumped his fist up in the air for emphasis.

"...What?" Eda asked incredulously.

"There's no way this could have been natural. Someone must have killed her!" he said. Eda shook her head at the theory.

"Rico, I doubt–"

"Yolanda liked to have a cup of tea before she went to bed! It soothed her. Someone must have sneaked his way into the Church and laced her drink with poison! Just like Saint Benedict!" Upon hearing this, Eda found herself silently asking the Heavenly Father to give her the strength not to smack Rico upside the head.

"Saint Benedict was never poisoned, and neither was Yolanda. Rico, she smoked, and she was old. She probably could have recalled a time when there weren't any hills. It's a miracle she stayed alive as long as she did. Now leave me alone." She closed her eyes and settled herself in the bed. Finally, she could get some sleep.

"I'm not dead," came an aged, yet firm voice.

Eda's eyes snapped open. She imagined the sound of glass breaking. A large smiled graced Rico's face as he turned around.

"Sister Yolanda!"

"She's not dead," Eda said through her teeth, her eyes nearly bulging out of her face as she was rigid in bed. The elderly nun made her way from the door over to the pair.

"Yes," Yolanda spoke in a gentle tone. "A rare break in my usual routine, I was only resting. There was no need for alarm, Rico."

"You didn't check to see if she had a pulse?" Eda hissed at Rico, avoiding eye contact with Yolanda. "You only saw her and just assumed she was dead?" Rico looked sheepish.

"Well, when I saw her lying there, I just thought because she's ol– I-I mean, I made an assumption that..."

"It's nothing," Yolanda interjected. "Rico did jump to a conclusion. It was a mistake. He is forgiven." She smiled warmly.

"It was pleasant to hear that you care so deeply for my well-being, but now that you see that I am not deceased, I advise you get back to work. I need to have a discussion with Eda." There was cold, iron quality behind the deceptively frail tone. Rico took the hint and left the room. There was an audible gulp from Eda as Yolanda towered over her body. She gripped the sheets and had a strong urge to hide under the covers as she made eye contact with Yolanda's steely gaze. The pounding in her heart surpassed the pounding in her skull and she broke into a cold sweat. The room began to spin.

"Eda," Yolanda started with a false smile. "What was this you were saying about me recalling a time when there weren't any hills?"

Eda's hangover disappeared when she fainted.

THE END

A/N: Saint Benedict – Eda is correct about the "never poisoned" thing. The monks in Saint Benedict's monastery tried to kill him by poisoning his drink. The story goes that he prayed a blessing over the cup and it shattered into pieces, preventing him from drinking the laced wine.

The more you know.

Cheers.