Chapter 1: Alpha

"Line them up," Ladarius ordered his men. The mercenaries, clad in makeshift cloth and armoured vests, grabbed the three prisoners and lined them up before their leader. The bags currently covering their heads were removed by Ladarius, who proceeded to examine them. The first, to the left, was a short man, with matted brown hair, blue eyes and a mean glare. He wore a denim jacket and combat pants. The man in the middle was taller, wearing a leather aviator jacket and black, woollen gloves. He refused to look Ladarius in the eye. Lastly, to the right stood a burly, bald man in his thirties. He wore only a tank top and shorts. Their weapons had been confiscated when Ladarius's men took them aboard the carriage container they found themselves in. Judging by the movement and the lantern hanging from the top of the container, they were being transported by a truck of some sort. Where they were going was another matter.

"Alright, boys," Ladarius began. "You know why you're here. Well, one of you does anyway. The name's Ladarius. About two weeks ago, one of my associates by the name of Rex Huntington was assassinated. We've narrowed the suspect list down to you three fine specimens." He spoke with a southern American accent and if the way he held himself meant anything, he was former military. Now, he was the ruthless and unforgiving leader of an expansive, convoluted mercenary organisation calling themselves the Black Marchers. Rick had shot Res Huntington dead from the rooftop of a nearby building. He would not admit to it, of course. He preferred to bide his time while Ladarius tried to figure out which of the three men before him was responsible. "Rex was my second-in-command. I'm sure I don't need to tell you three why his death pisses me off. I'm going to give you one chance to tell me which one of you did it." That was met with complete silence. "Alrighty, then. Shoot their knees." There were only three mercenaries present in the container, not including Ladarius. Rick needed to act right away. As one of the men raised his gun, Rick shot a calculated kick into the man's hand, knocking the gun to the ground. "It's the middle one! In the aviator jacket, shoot him!" But they were far too slow. Rick had them all dead in seconds. He aimed his gun at Ladarius.

"Sorry, man," he said mockingly. "Not today."

"So, you're the infamous Wolf. I've heard about you. Didn't believe my boys when they told me it was you that offed Rex. I thought you'd have bigger fish to fry."

"What can I say, the job paid well," Rick, otherwise known by his moniker of 'the Wolf', admitted dryly. The truck came to a halt, presumably because the driver heard the gunshots. As the container door opened, Wolf shot the driver dead instantly. The two men that had been in the line-up fled immediately. While they were most certainly criminals, they had nothing to do with the conflict currently taking place.

"You don't have to do this," Ladarius pleaded, though he bore an expression of strength and stoicism. "I can double whatever your client offered. All you have to do is walk away and leave me to my business." Wolf smiled sinisterly.

"It's funny, I wasn't actually hired to assassinate you." An expression of relief spread across Ladarius's face. "But if I leave you alive, you'll more than likely send someone after me." He pulled the trigger, not thinking about it too much. It was always better to be safe about these things, especially in this business. Wolf had somewhere he needed to be. Had Ladarius not sent his goons to kidnap him, Wolf would be there already. He left the container and started towards the centre of town. He needed a ride back home.

"Are you just going to sit around and drink all day?" asked Rock, taking a seat on the couch that Revy was currently not splayed out across.

"Yup," she answered shortly, cracking open another can of beer and guzzling a quarter of it in one gulp. It was just the two of them alone in the apartment today. Dutch was out talking to a client and Benny was who-knew-where with his new girlfriend. Nothing much had happened in Roanapur during the last two months. Lagoon Company hadn't gotten any jobs, either. Apparently, the business involving the Lovelace family had caused a severe drop in criminal activity. Things would pick up soon, naturally. Dutch's meeting with a client proved that much. Even so, it felt strange to go so long without working.

"Seriously?" Rock asked. Revy never failed to surprise him. As long as they had been colleagues and despite the signs that suggested she might be softening, Revy always reverted to her cold-hearted, callous persona.

"The fuck else is there to do?" That was a fair point. "You find someone for me to shoot, you let me know."

"Will do," Rock replied sarcastically under his breath. All they could do right now was to wait for Dutch to come back. Hopefully, he would have news. If they didn't get work soon, they would go insane. Revy was already becoming increasingly irritable, and that was saying something. Even Hotel Moscow hadn't been in contact with them for some time. It was slim pickings in Roanapur these days. Rock snatched up the remote and turned over to the international news. Considering there was nothing particularly exciting happening in Thailand, he thought he might as well check in on the rest of the world.

"…although police say they do not recognise a pattern. The men were found dead just last night outside of Rhinebeck, New York. One of the victims, a man that has been identified as Ladarius Crews, was known to be the leader of a prolific mercenary group calling themselves the Black Marchers. It is unknown who was responsible for what is being described as a 'rival killing.' Police will continue-"

"Same shit, different day," Revy grumbled. "Isn't there anything better on?" Rock left the remote down by her side.

"See for yourself," he told her glumly, heading for the door. He left the room without another word, making his way through the streets. While at one time he may have been pickpocketed or attacked by Roanapur's many criminals, today was a result of the 'crime drought' the city was having. There were hardly any people about and those that were either had something to sell or someone to kill. They paid Rock little to no attention. He strolled through the winding alleys and streets for almost an hour. Lately, he had been conflicted about his life choices. He often found himself pondering how he had come to find himself in this moment, under these circumstances. He was unsure yet whether he was content or not with this life. A lesson he had almost come to embrace was that if one truly sought to live and thrive in the filth, one had to completely submerge oneself in the darkness. Rock had long considered plunging into the darkness and letting it corrupt him thoroughly. He almost did, not long ago. Even so, now was not the time for such thoughts. He turned around and made his way back home. Entering the apartment once more and making his way to the living room, he found Ditch. The large man turned to face him.

"Rock," he began. "Glad you're here. I've got news. Big news. Get your shit together, we've got a job."