Somewhere in Columbia
"Fuckin' A, Mendez! Hurry it up!"
"Danny" Cho almost jumped as he avoided stepping on his fellow Marine's rifle, which lay on the ground as he waited for the enormous Mexican-American to finish cutting through the fence. In the distance, somewhere in the village they had just crept through, a man shouted. Dogs barked, and a pair of gunshots rang out, followed by rapid-fire Spanish voices and laughter. They were running out of time…
"There! Fuck, I ain't cut out for all this sneakin' around bullshit, bro." Despite the fact that Mendez was whispering, in the relative quiet his accented voice registered to Cho as louder than his sister when she didn't have her way. The voices were drifting further away now. Seizing the opportunity, Mendez slipped through the hole in the cheap, rusting chain-link barrier as Cho's eyes swept over the area behind them like a hawk. Satisfied that they were clear, Cho, with his rifle still pointed in the general direction of the voices, followed suit.
Cho felt something squishy under his boot and frowned when he realized he'd stepped in shit. Human shit. Didn't these beaners have toilets? Cho sighed and decided it didn't matter. Ever vigilant, the two Marines began to move across the field beyond the fence. It wasn't the sort of field that Cho had grown up around all his life; the field was one part of a relatively large cocaine operation. Something didn't feel right…the Goddamn Columbians couldn't possibly be stupid enough to make their operations this conspicuous. But then again, this was Columbia, land of the powdery white stuff.
Two bursts of static came across the squad channel. Two more bursts. And another two. That meant that the others were through the perimeter defenses. With that, Mendez nodded and the two crept towards the rendezvous point. Other figures could be seen tiptoeing through the darkness; those were the other members of the squad Cho and Mendez belonged to. They were there to set explosives at specific locations; it was a plan devised partly to destroy cocaine shipments, but it was mostly meant to confuse the cartel troops guarding the compound. Once the explosions went off, a company of Green Berets would storm the compound and secure its essential staff for questioning.
But still: something was wrong. Cho could feel it.
"RPG! Fuckin' shit, RPG-"
An explosion threw Cho on his ass and illuminated Mendez' features, contorted in shock. Sergeant Korvek, thirty yards to Cho's right, flew back in two pieces. Machine guns rattled as several of the other Marines caught bullets. A Kalashnikov barked, followed by dozens more. How the cartel had discovered the Marines' presence, Cho didn't want to stick around and find out.
"Strike team, contact report!" Cho's earpiece barked as Colonel what's-his-name shouted into a microphone a few miles away, safe in a command post.
"This is the strike team, we've-"
The last thing Cho saw before he blacked out was the face of a mustachioed, olive-drab uniformed man as he slammed the butt of a rifle into Cho's forehead.
Roanapur, Thailand
"Listen up here, pinche chino! I don't know what the hell the boss think's you're so special for, but I don't take bullshit from fuckin' chinks like you! I don't care what they say, you gimme another fuckin' smart-ass answer like that and I'll cut your little gook dick off! Let's try this shit again, WHY THE FUCK DID THEY SEND YOU HERE?"
In his six years spent in Lagoon Company, Rokuro Okajima (or "Rock," as he was known to his comrades) had never gotten around to finding out how somebody as blatantly stupid as Abrego had survived so long in the shithole known as Roanapur. All he and Revy, a gunwoman who probably had a plethora of mental health issues and the closest thing he had to an honest-to-god friend here, had to do to find out Abrego's whereabouts was to take one of his goons and have Revy torture the guy enough to get him to spill. Easy stuff, really. What made Rock want to laugh even more was the fact that Abrego had left the hotel room in which he was staying at for some reason.
Nonetheless, after this, Rock wouldn't have to wonder a bit as to how Abrego managed so long. The relatively unintelligent Columbian drug runner would be dead after this. This technically wasn't official company business; Rock and Revy had been offered half a million dollars by a U.S government agent to take Abrego off the grid. Half a million, honest-to-god U.S dollars. Even Rock, who normally was very reluctant to take lives directly, was willing to put the Tokarev that Revy had started forcing him to carry a few years ago to use to get that money. His jaded ideals and "hobby" of saving people from Roanapur's dangers aside, that money could be used for quite a few things…
Rock realized for the nth time that he'd changed quite a bit. He'd even listened to Revy and ditched the white-collar suit of clothes that he normally sported, opting now for jeans, cowboy boots and a plain black V-neck shirt.
"Sounds like that fuckin' border jumper's pouncing on some local," said Revy. Her eyes were already narrowing in anticipation, and her twin "Cutlasses" were loaded and ready to go. When Rock had first met her, Revy had some serious character issues. She was ruthless, greedy, and she hid behind her guns and her tragic past; in Rock's opinion, she had been a textbook coward. Six years and what had to be hundreds of thousands of death threats, drinking contests, inebriated fistfights and attempts to kill each other later, Revy had mellowed out a lot as far as Rock was concerned. Of course she was still extremely rude, and she still made death threats towards Rock (who had also wound up picking up that sort of behavior somewhere along the road,) and she was still murderous and bloodthirsty as ever. But at least she had learned to value the lives of those around her.
Rock drew the Tokarev and pulled the slide back a hair. There was a round chambered. Good.
"Okay, Rock, you know the drill. I go in first; you cover my ass and keep it from getting shot off." Revy's blood-crazed smile had stopped creeping Rock out long ago. In fact, he'd even gotten used the Chinese-American gunslinger's habit of waving her weapons around at Rock.
One…
The soundproofing of the hotel room must have been terrible, because Rock could easily hear another person speaking. Not English, though. He recognized it as Korean, with a slight American accent. Not that he could understand a word of what was being said, though.
Two…
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean, chinky? I never thought I'd be the guy sayin' this, but speak motherfuckin' English!" Abrego's voice was louder than ever, and his increased anger, as if it wasn't already obvious enough, was evidenced again when the smack of a fist against flesh came from behind the door.
Three!
Revy put a 9mm bullet in the door's lock and kicked it down, grinning the whole time.
"What the-Revy? What the fuck are you doing here, you fuckin' psycho bitch?"
"Shut up, Abrego." Revy said, her smile changing to one that actually seemed…happy? "You sound like a fifth grader out of earshot of his mommy, y'know? Anyways, we're being paid a shitload of money to kill you. So, save the fuckin' chat and I'll make it fast."
It all stopped just as quickly as it had started. Revy's dual pistols barked as blood and brain matter exploded outwards from the heads of Abrego and the two men he had in him with the room. Rock sighed and put the Tokarev in its holster as Revy laughed. Rock took in the sight of the hotel room. The place, one of the cheaper places to stay in the city, was a shithole, like Rock's own room as well as the rest of Roanapur. Wallpaper was peeling off, mold could be seen in a few places, and a huge reddish-brown stain decorated the far left corner. Probably some other poor bastard had met his fate there. Whatever…that's this fuckin' town for you.
A groan came from a man on a chair. Looking at him more closely, Rock noticed that he was Asian and wore a tattered, blood-stained military uniform. His nametape read "CHO" on the right and "U.S MARINES" on the left. This would be interesting, to say in the least.
"So I guess this is the fucker that the beaners were holding. Name, pussy. Make it fast."
"Corporal Daniel Cho, First United States Marine Force Recon, serial number-"
Revy's boot connected with the Marine's gut. "Shut up, I wanted your fuckin' name, nothin' else. Rock, you thinking what I'm thinking?"
Rock sighed again. Perhaps Revy really hadn't changed much. In all practicality, though, it wasn't a bad idea. Rock wanted to save this guy, but what exactly was wrong with making a little cash on the side? It wasn't like they were going to kill him or anything.
Revy cackled again, her crooked, ill-kept teeth showing. He'd have to keep an eye on her. Rock shook a pair of Marlboros from a pack and lit one for himself. He proffered the other to the Marine, who politely shook his head as Revy snatched it away. He took a long drag and blew it into Revy's face, for no apparent reason other than to get back at her for her blatant rudeness.
"Rock, you fuckin' asshole! Anyways, I hope this jarhead doesn't mind being ransomed off to his government for a nice wad of cash. I wonder how much a Marine rifleman would be worth, huh?"
"Dunno," Rock said, working at the rope that bound Cho with a box cutter that he kept in his pocket. "Maybe you could get a couple million? He's probably got family, you know. So I think the Americans would work pretty hard to get him back. But…are you sure that this is-"
Revy kicked the chair out from under the Marine. "Fuckin' A, Rock! I thought you'd actually gotten rid of that stupid notion of yours! Don't you know that-"
"That you don't harm a hostage that you're exchanging for money. Revy, I now officially prohibit you from calling me 'shit for brains.' That wasn't what I was going to say." Rock felt like chuckling as Revy started to fume. All those years and she still got pissed whenever Rock was right and she knew it. "What I meant was: are you sure that this is safe? You know, the U.S probably isn't going to sit on its hands and simply fork over taxpayer money to save one of its citizens from people they view as terrorists. It's likely much cheaper to dispatch a team of SEALS or Green Berets to rescue him. And when that happens," Rock began to speak as if to a child, "No more Revy, no more Rock, no more Dutch, and no more-"
"Who the fuck cares about that fuckin' kike anyways-"
"Remember what you said about sounding like a fifth grader out of his mother's earshot? What's wrong with poor 'ol Benny?"
"YOU WANNA FUCKIN' DIE, ROCK?" Despite Revy's sudden temper swing, Rock was grinning and chuckling in satisfaction. He'd gotten to the point where he knew that pissing Revy off would never actually result in his brains being splattered all over a wall, and it'd actually gotten to be enjoyable. "Anyways," she continued, her scowl turning into a smile, "If they do send troops they'll have to get through me first. It's kind of a shame that I didn't get to shoot at those troops that came after that glasses bitch some time back, huh? That could have been fun."
Rock sighed again. The fuckin' psychos I hang out with…
"Yep," he said as he twirled the keys to the Pontiac. "Could've been."
Lagoon Company Offices, Roanapur
"You two fuckin' shit-for-brains assholes!"
This wasn't the first time that Rock had seen Dutch's temper in action, but it was the first time that the African-American Swift Boat veteran's fury had been directed at him. And it was sure as hell not fun. Dutch had been seriously angered when Rock and Revy, who had both left behind Dutch's back in the early morning, had come into the office with a briefcase and a battered East Asian man.
"C'mon, Dutch," Revy said, her trademark Cheshire cat grin adorning her features, "Do you know how much money we just made off of this shit-"
Dutch's fist smashed into Revy's face as she flew into the wall, making Benny look up from his computer for once. "I don't fuckin' care, you dumb bitch! What the hell is wrong with letting me know where you're going and why? Now the whole goddamn cartel's gonna be pissed at us, and for all you know that little deal you made with the U.S government could have been a trap! And who the fuck is this guy?"
"He's just some punk that those beaners were beating up. All we know is that he's a U.S Marine, and that he'll probably be worth something if we ransom him to the American government." Revy, despite the force with which Dutch had punched her, was still grinning. She was in way too good of a mood to lose her temper now. "Think about it, Dutch. From what we can tell, this guy probably has a family and a life. The U.S isn't going to let one of its citizens be executed by a bunch of pirates, not if it doesn't want an assload of civil unrest on its hands. We wouldn't have to work; we'd be set for fuckin' life with what we could get out of this!"
"Maybe you should be a bit more like Rock and think, Revy. What if they send troops instead of cash?"
"Funny, 'cause that's exactly what our resident pussy-ass Jap told me," Revy said as she snorted and winked at Rock. "If they do send in their military, I don't think they'll exactly be prepared for Roanapur and all its fuckin' freak-show residents. That pussy-ass agent who hired me and Rock for this job didn't suspect a thing when he gave us the money; he even looked the part of the naïve newcomer. God, there were so many goons pouncing on him when we left that I think it's a shame we didn't bring a video camera."
Dutch growled. "Whatever. But if you do this again, and pay attention 'cause I'm dead fuckin' serious, I'm going to supersize both your assholes manually before I give you a second one, free of charge. Got it? I don't waste money I could have for myself to pay you two to take unnecessary risks. And the lost time's coming out of your share from the next few jobs, Rock."
Rock jumped back, his eyes widening. "What the fuck, why me?"
"'Cause Revy don't think, partner. Didn't you hear me earlier? You've gotta do it for her; you pickin' up what I'm puttin' down?"
Rock nodded sullenly. Dutch wasn't right, since they took "unnecessary" risks to earn money practically every time they accepted a job. But if hearing a scary black guy out was the worst they had to do during this otherwise easy job, then Rock was all for it.
Dutch sighed. "And Revy, don't think you're getting off scot-free. You ain't getting a share from our jobs for the next two months. Before you ask me whether you heard me right, you damn well did. You ain't getting paid for a two fuckin' months. That's the first, last, and only thing that I'm going to say on the matter, short of one thing: you'd better be ready to shoot up some Columbians, because when they find out that you and Rock are behind this…"
"You realize that we got five hundred thousand dollars from this job," Revy said, expressionless. "Five hundred fucking thousand. And considering how much that is, I really could say I don't give a shit about the whole pay dilemma because you and Jew Boy aren't getting any of it because you two didn't do a fuckin' thing to earn it. I'm splitting it with Rock, sixty-forty-"
"We agreed on fifty-fifty, Revy," said Rock as his head perked up. "What did I tell you about things like this?"
Revy laughed, not a laugh of happiness, but a laugh that gave Benny an uneasy look. "Alright, fine. Since I'm not a fuckin' kike like Benny I'll keep the fifty-fifty split deal. Happy now, Rocky baby? After we make some more, maybe we can both ditch this shithole town and relax!"
"You can call me Rocky but not baby, okay-"
"Apologize, Dutch!" Benny said, clinging to Dutch's waist. "That's too much money to pass up because of pride! C'mon, Rock! Can't you find it in your heart to spare a little for me and possibly Dutch? Revy? Don't you remember how many times I've saved your asses these past eight years? Please?"
Revy's middle finger came up in the hacker's face. "I wasn't going to give you any anyways. Remember, you didn't do shit? Though I guess that proves that Hitler got something right about your people, I guess."
"I don't know where we're going with this, but I'm having a talk with you and Rock after we're done here. In private. That means get in the fuckin' back room. Anyhow …" Dutch looked down at the quivering figure on the floor as Revy and Rock walked back to the aforementioned room, both angered to some extent. Dutch didn't need either of them whining or bitching about anything when he started to do this.
"What's your name, son?"
"C-c-corporal Daniel Cho of the United States Marine Corps, First Force Recon! Serial number-"
"That's enough, okay? No need to get your panties in a bundle. So, where are you from?" Dutch felt slightly nostalgic as he sat down in front of the man. It'd been around six years ago that he'd done something like this with Rock, but this time he felt like he might be hiring a new crew member. And with Revy taking more risks than ever and with Rock's increasing…what exactly was starting to take form in him? Ruthlessness? Guile? Perhaps a rapidly growing sense of cynicism as he was exposed to more and more of Roanapur's rampant injustices? It was hard to pin a word on it, but sooner or later it would make Rock a prime target for some random mobster who felt threatened by the man who was once the heart of Dutch's company.
Cho regained his composure and rested against the wall. "Lincoln, the one in Nebraska. I'm…um…kinda guessing that you're from the states too?" Cho seemed to relax a bit more as he finally met someone who wasn't itching to kill him, torture him or ransom him off to make a bit of extra cash.
"Yep. Texas, myself. Just some damn town in the middle of nowhere. As far as I remember, that place was a cow pasture, a dozen houses, a grocery store and a church. Didn't have much to do there. So, I guess I better stop making you tense with all my bullshit small talk and ask you something: how did you end up here in the asshole of the universe?"
"About a month ago," Cho said, considerably more confident now that he could say he was reasonably safe for the time being, "my unit was sent to pave the way for an assault on a Columbian drug compound. I thought something would go wrong; if the cartel had their operations out in the open like that, then they had to have something up their sleeve. So anyways, we went in, me and my squad, hitching a ride on two Zodiacs. Eight of us went in, operating in teams of two. My team, which was me and another guy named Mendez, snuck through a village just outside of the compound; the place was a shithole, if you ask me, but I digress.
"We went in and didn't find anything, so we moved on through and apparently nobody saw us. I saw a couple of guys who looked like they were holding Kalashnikovs, so we made a break for a ditch near the compound's fence. I heard a couple of gunshots after a dog barked, so I knew that there were armed men in the village. They started talking, but I didn't know about what. After Mendez cut the fence, we moved on through a coke field as quietly as we could and that was when they opened up on us. They were way more watchful than we thought, and as one of the cartel members told me the guards in the village had seen us. Anyways, they'd…they'd killed the rest of the squad off, but they captured me and Mendez. After the fuckers beat me up and shot Mendez, their boss shipped me over here so they could keep their end of the ransom that they were planning away from significant American assets. After that dumb son of a bitch…Aguinaldo or Abrego, I can't remember his name, beat me up, your guys came in and…I don't know whether to consider this saving my ass or not."
Dutch simply nodded. "A Marine, huh? I'm a Swift Boat vet myself, served in 'Nam for a couple of years before I wound up deserting. Can't remember why I did that, especially considering that I now reside in this shithole city. But, well, I guess fate's kind of a random bitch. Anyways, I guess I'd better introduce you to some of our crew. I'm Dutch if you haven't figured it out already. That," Dutch pointed to the man sitting sullenly at his computer, "is Benny. He's our hacker and electronics specialist.
"The woman of the two that dragged you here is Revy, and I'd advise you to stay away from her for however long you're here. She's tough, mean, rude, and most of all she's definitely a total psycho; considering all she's been through, she's got justification for that.
"The guy she was with is Rock, and we picked him up when he was in the same situation that you're in. I've sometimes had regrets about taking him in, but he's shown himself to be damn resourceful and intelligent at least part of the time that he needs to be; hell, he came up with a plan to blow up a fuckin' Hind with a torpedo, and it worked."
"You're shitting me," Cho said in amazement.
"No shit," Benny said, not looking up from his computer. "That's what Dutch said when he came up with the plan. Not to say that it didn't piss me off when it did work; we were all alive but it fried my electronics worse than Revy's cooking fries my tongue."
"I heard that, you fuckin' kike! These walls ain't soundproof, y'know!"
Dutch let out another sigh, ignoring Revy. "Believe it or not, Rock actually used to have a set of morals. But now…he's starting to scare me. But back on topic; I'm not going to lie to you, Danny. I'm thinking about hiring you if things go to shit, provided you can do something other than shoot; I just hope that the U.S government doesn't follow some sort of 'no negotiations with terrorists' policy. We don't actively look for good crew members, but like Rock and Benny, they always stumble across us. And you're a Force Recon Marine…a potential employee too damn good to pass up."
"What the fuck, Dutch! What is it now? I'm guessing that we're not good enough for ya? I don't want to go through the shitstorm of breaking in the new meat like I did with Rock!"
"REVY! Shut your fuckin' trap and wait 'till I'm done before you start bitching!"
Dutch turned to Cho once more. "You should get some rest; it looks like you've been through a lot. There's a cot in the room to the left, but that's Rock's office so don't touch anything. We'll try to negotiate your handover with the U.S government. If something goes wrong…I guess I'll cut through the bullshit and you can consider yourself a member of Lagoon until you're dead or I find somebody better."
"No."
Dutch was taken aback by the man's blatant refusal. "Umm…"
"I've had enough of this shit! I've been beaten, tortured, hell, I've been nearly fuckin' killed! And all because of what? Because I decided I'd be fuckin' with some beaner cartel in the name of my country! I've lost all my friends to those monsters! I'm not dealing with them anymore! It's fuckin' suicide for me, man! Fuckin' shit, man, my mom was right! I'm not cut out for this!"
"You were tough enough to make it into a unit like First Force Recon," said Dutch, his unthreatening tone not changing. "But still, it's your choice. This is a world of self-determination. Although," Dutch's eyes narrowed behind his sunglasses, which he wore even when it was dark out, "I don't think that's exactly the smartest thing to do. Roanapur makes NYC, LA, Moscow and all those other crime-ridden dumps look like utopia. Nobody survives out there alone, with no money, no weapon and no place to stay. But, again, it's your choice. Go ahead and think it over, but just get some shut-eye. I'll let you decide whether you want to stay or not.
"But just remember," Dutch advised, "This company often operates outside the bounds of the laws of many, many countries. If you decide to join us, you'll be branded an outlaw as well. And I have no doubt that the U.S government would be willing to have you handed over, so don't forget that once you join us, you'll be a deserter as well. Keep that in mind."
Cho shivered and nodded. Dutch actually felt a bit of sympathy for him; the guy would probably be having a long night.
But there was one more thing he had to take care of. As he kicked open the door to the back room, he sure hoped that this would sink in with the two employees of his. They were changing, and not for the better. As an employer, Dutch indeed had a problem with that.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Okay…before you kill me for totally butchering Rock's character (and the characters of pretty much everyone else,) remember that he's been with Lagoon for six years straight. That's plenty of time to change a man drastically. Anyways, I guess I haven't much more to say about this piece of crap I've just written. Please review so I know whether I have disgraced my family or not. Also, I own none of the characters in this story save for the lousy original ones I dreamed up in a few seconds.