Story's from Revy's POV

The sun was out, and my blood was boiling, not because it was Monday, not because it was so hot you could cook an egg on a manhole, but because I was fucking menstruating. But Two Hands was a legend, and as far as other people were concerned legends don't menstruate.

I wish I had a cock.

Walking past the alleyway, it was the smell that hit us at first, that made Rock sick, and it was the sorry sight that made him pull me back when he should have kept walking. I knew what we were going to find, and I knew that he knew it too, but apparently it just wasn't in him to let it be. The man was like a puppy: so pitiful, so bright-eyed and so fucking willing to stick his nose into every little thing that drew his attention. We've gone all over the city doing business, and if it wasn't for me standing behind him and glaring at anyone who so much as blinked, he'd have lost his wallet and clothes at best, and his life at worst.

She was stretched out across the gutter and between the dumpsters, all filth and weakness. She had pissed herself. Looking her over was like reading a story. Addict because of the needle marks and the fucked up teeth. Hooker because you can't buy your bags of powder without dough. Overdose because she's convulsing. I hung back. I've already seen and smelt all there was to know the rest. Rock stepped closer. I warned him. I really fucking did.

The addict came to life. She lurched up and pawed at the air, reaching for him. I didn't need to listen to know what she was croaking about. I didn't need to look at Rock's face as he stumbled back to know he was horrified and disgusted. That sound he made when he whimpered reached my ears, and once again I was stuck with the compulsion to break his nose.

I managed to yank him to one of the dumpsters before he spewed. I held his hair up and away from his mouth as he let out the coffee and leftover pizza we had for breakfast and the dumplings we had for lunch. I looked at the addict as she collapsed back against the wall, narrowing my eyes as I looked at her more closely, seeing the dyed hair and the sallow face twitching below it, her lips working feebly, chin flecked with spit.

She could be my sister. Fucking hell.

By the time Rock had finished she was gone. Flies were already settling on her body to lay their maggot-jammed eggs. I dragged Rock back to the office and went to finish off the rest of our errands myself, only unlike Rock I swore, threatened and glared. Although I never showed it, and certainly would never say it, I appreciated the magic Rock could do with his wheedling and his bartering and his ass-kissing. Dutch knew yuppie-speak too, but with Rock it was in his nature, and like me Dutch would eventually use bullets where words failed, whereas Rock would just keep talking and talking and talking until I threatened to weld his mouth shut. So you could imagine what a headache I had from having to deal with all that while keeping my guns in their holsters and fight my period at the same time.

We wouldn't talk about the addict until the night. Dutch and Benny had gone out for drinks at the Yellow Flag, and usually, we would come, but not this time. Because tonight Rock wouldn't come, so I told them I'd stay behind too. It was unlike Rock and definitely not like me to turn down a date with alcohol. But that was how it happened.

I sat him down on one of the couches, tossed him a beer, and then lit one up as I threw myself down on the other one. I took drags and blew smoke as I waited for him to say his first words since he saw the addict. Past him, I could see the rain begin to fall.

"What's the point?"

"The point is, Rock, is that you're still alive, that you're not her and neither am I."

"That's a rather callous way to look at it."

"It's the only way to look at it. Back home where I come from, they're trying to fight it, this whole business with drugs. They're calling it a war back there, but it's a war they'll lose just like the one they lost when they came over here to fight the commies. You know why? Demand and supply. It's because you can't fight something when someone is making money out of it, when someone needs it to make it through their shit life." I leaned forward. I should have stopped, but I was menstruating. "And that's another thing. Life is cheap. No, it's the cheapest thing there ever was, Rock. The fish lay more eggs in the sea than we apes have ever existed. Your balls alone hold more than enough jizz to fill a fucking country with little brats who'll go on making more fucking brats just like themselves." I snapped my fingers and pointed to the window, to the city view and the storm clouds. "What's the point? For every moment we breathe there's a dozen girls out there who look just like me who are dying out there alone in the gutter. The fact that you saw one today was an unlucky coincidence, and if you think you can change that, then go save all the fish eggs that never managed to burst while you're at it. Go save the world and be the hero it doesn't need and certainly doesn't deserve. Because no matter how hard you try, you still wouldn't make a difference. You'd have better luck trying to catch every drop of rain you see falling out there. What's the point? The point is you should look out for one person and one person only." I jerked a thumb at myself. "Yourself."

I stood up and went outside before I said made things worse, leaving him alone in that office with his thoughts and my words. What I said was all true, and I believed it all.

At least, I used to.