"We got a new job. A long distance job at that. Someone wishes to move a set of large packages from Samoa to Roanapur." Dutch echoes throughout the torpedo boat. Sighing, he takes another sip from his beer, reflecting on the past few weeks. It was their first job since the Feng and Jane Bhai fiasco resolved itself in a truly brutal fashion.
"Any word on what we are transporting?" Rock asks. Seated next to Dutch, Rock fidgets, reeling from the aftermath of the Feng incident. His hands shake almost out of reflex as he holds a cigarette between his right index and middle fingers. Revy, seeing this, shifts her attention to a blank wall. 'At least that shit is over,' Revy thinks to herself.
Dutch adjusts his sunglasses, responding. "Our client stated that we will receive further instructions in Samoa. Nothing else is known." He cracks a wry smile as Rock prepares to retort. "I find this suspicious as well, Rock. The pay is good, however. $25,000, in American."
"25,000! Who the fuck is our client?" Revy yells out, fully engaged. There hasn't been any work in two weeks. The sound of such a job, one of the largest pays in months, piqued Revy's interest.
"The client identified himself as a Luca Cavalcanti. I would expect this to be a job from the Sicilians, but his English was very clear with an American accent."
Revy arcs herself back on to the couch from her original seated position. Her attention turns to Rock, who's peering out at the Indonesian waters with a cigarette tucked in his mouth. "Do we even have enough food for the trip?" Revy asks Rock.
"I haven't been to Samoa before, but I do know we clearly need to make a stop along the way, with our low food reserves. Papua New Guinea makes the most sense to stop at convenience wise. I'd imagine we'd stock up on enough food at Port Moresby, should be enough for the trip. Just watch out, Revy. Roanapur isn't the only broken city out there." Growing a pained smirk, Rock adds, "I can't claim to be the first employee from my company to be kidnapped overseas."
Revy cracks a bemused smirk "Ha! Now I really am looking forward to this. Dutch! When do you think we will reach Moresby?"
Dutch gets up from his seat, beer in hand, and heads toward navigation. "Around 3 days."
"Three…Fucking…Days. Nothing but fucking bananas, avocados, and spam. ROCK! Please tell me that Samoa is near." Revy buries her head into the couch. She groans from boredom, slightly drunk off of beer. A half dozen empty cans lie on the ground nearby.
"Benny says that we are two hours away. We will reach Samoa by noon," Rock responds, leaning on a chair.
Revy tilts her head upwards, facing Rock, some of her hair partially obscuring her face. "What do they eat in Samoa? Bananas and spam?"
"Nope…Coconuts and spam," Rock answers, hiding his amusement for his own safety.
"Ugh…," Revy belts out. "Someone fucking shoot me." She reaches for another beer on the table.
"This is the place." Dutch solemnly says. Before the Lagoon is an old wharf with a partially rotted dock and a black SUV by the dock. As Dutch, Revy, and Rock step out onto the partially broken wharf, the occupants of the SUV get out. Two men, the driver and a passenger riding shotgun, leave the SUV. They hurry to the back of the SUV and open the trunk. The passenger then grabs a pair of large duffle bags and struggles to raise them off the SUV and onto the ground. The driver then grabs two more duffle bags and sets them down next to the first pair. The driver turns to the passenger and gives him an embrace, patting him on the back. "In bocca al lupo, paisan (break a leg, friend)," the driver utters. The driver then gives a quick glance at Black Lagoon company and motions them over, then opens the door to the SUV. As Dutch approaches the passenger, the driver hits the gas and quickly drives away.
"You Luca?" Dutch asks the passenger. The man appears to be in quite good shape. Dutch, Revy, and Rock size the man up. He appears to be around Balalaika's height, with well defined shoulders. Clean shaven, with slick black hair, slightly beyond shoulder length. His hair flows over his two shoulders, on top of a large blue and green t-shirt. Bangs grow long enough to obscure his eye brows. Upon closer inspection, the shirt is revealed to be a Vancouver Canucks jersey, with the number 16 on the front. Under the jersey is a pair of slightly worn denim jeans and a pair of white tennis shoes. Surveying his face, one would see a cleft chip and a bandage over his forehead. The passenger looks into Dutch's eyes and answers.
"Yes. You must be Dutch. You look larger than I expected. I am certain you are swarmed with questions by now." Revy's eyes lit up. She noticed the accent on the voice, an accent she hasn't heard in years. The sound of a distinct New York City accent, coupled with an apparently sophisticated method of speaking.
Luca takes out a pack of Parliaments and removes a single cigarette. He then searches his back pocket and sighs. "I must have left my lighter in the car. May you spare a light?" Dutch retrieves his lighter and helps Luca light his cigarette. "Grazie. Now listen. You have been hired to transport these five packages to Roanapur. From there, you will move the five packages to a safehouse near the…" Luca retrieves a scrap of paper from his back pocket. "Ah yes, …the Yellow Flag?"
"We know the one," says Dutch.
"Bene," Luca answers, taking a puff from his cigarette. "Now, if you would help me carry these onto the boat..."
"Wait a minute. You said five packages, but I only see four duffle bags." Rock yells out. "You must be the fifth package."
"You are a bright one," Luca gave a bemused smirk as the four of them carry a duffle bag each. Revy stares at the back of Luca's jersey, the name Linden written out. 'Who the fuck is Linden?' Revy thinks to herself as she makes out the outline of a pistol concealed under his jersey. Revy, annoyed, yells out. "What the fuck are we smuggling? Boulders?"
"Cocaine. Around 100 kilos worth in each bag. So unless you desire to be indebted to my organization for over a few million dollars, I would certainly recommend that you not drop that bag into the ocean."
Revy silently glares at Luca, imagining various ways to kill him. He has succeeded in angering her in mere seconds.
All four carry their bags onto the Lagoon, with Luca carrying the last bag. "We need to store these parcels someplace dry," says Luca.
"I got it," says Dutch, who opens a hatch and climbs down a ladder. Luca, Rock, and Revy take turns dropping the bags down the hatch as Dutch catches them.
"So…*pants* what organization did you mean?" asks Rock.
After Luca drops the fourth bag down the hatch, which gives a thud as Dutch catches it, the man turns to Rock and answers. "The 'Ndrangheta."
"The 'Ndrangheta?" Rock's eyes light up. Memories of newspaper articles he read back in Japan flood his mind. Articles of a ransomed kidnapping of the son of an oil tycoon come clear to mind. These images are soon replaced with the recent memories of Japan, of Balalaika's assault on the Yakuza. "Damn it all. This is going to be Japan all over again."
Revy raises her left eyebrow. 'The 'Ndrangheta? Have I heard of them before?'
"So it is true, then." Luca responds. "I heard about what happened with Hotel Moscow and the Kousa Council. Some members were quite intrigued with the unique way you and that lady over their handled the remnants of the Yakuza. Even more so impressed with the resolution for the Loveless incident. This prompted a background check that proved to be quite rewarding. We desired someone we could rely on, that is where the job came from. You, and the fair lady," Luca adds, growing a crude smile.
"Lady? The name is Revy, ass-jaw." Revy blurts out. Each word that Luca utters pricks Revy's skin with needles as she struggles to repress memories of NYC.
"Nice to meet you too." Luca answered back with a wry smirk. "The 'Ndrangheta has been planning to expand into South East Asia for some time, to tap the markets in Thailand, 'Nam, Laos, Cambodia, etcetera. My superiors determined Roanapur would be an excellent springboard for further expansion into Australia, Malaysia, Indonesia, and possibly Hong Kong. I am certain you already know that, in light of the cargo being transported, that the Sicilians and the Colombians will not take kindly to us, but I'd imagine they would be the only potential hostile factions. Hotel Moscow's revenue depends largely outside the drug trade, and Chang's Triads rely on the heroin trade. The Colombians themselves have been on rather unsupported ground since the 2nd Loveless fiasco, and lack the resources to attack. Lastly, the Sicilians have been under great suspicion since the Romani twins incidents, and Mr. Ronald Cuccia has demonstrated a lack of...diplomacy in negotiating with the other factions, and would be destroyed if he wages war. As such, I am certain that this job will not shatter any alliances that Black Lagoon has established that are worth maintaining, nor attract any organized violence."
"You seem to know a fucking lot about us," Revy snarls. "And why would you be at war with the Sicilians? I thought you're Italian as well."
"The 'Ndrangheta is a loose international confederation of mafia strongholds, though we do meet for certain meetings in Calabria. That is on the Italian mainland, not Sicily itself. I am from the 'Ndrangheta branch in Western Canada. We have been trying to form a drug route from Italy to Thailand through Canadian borders for quite some time now. Now if you would entreat me, as a guest, I humbly inquire if you have anything to eat?"
"Yeah, fucking bananas, fucking coconuts, and fucking spam. Have fun," Revy snarls again at Luca. Luca responds with a blank smile and then climbs the ladder down to the lower deck. Rock closes the hatch and then turns to Revy.
"Is there something the matter there, Revy?" Rock asks.
Revy pulls out a cigarette and lights it with a match. Tossing the match over her head and into the water, Revy answers. "There's something about Luca that really fucking pisses me off. Fucker gives off the same vibes as Chaka did, only more subtly. Be careful around him Rock. He got the smell of blood on him, but not blood that he drew. More like the type of asshole that makes others kill for him." Revy blows a puff of smoke out of her mouth. Her words immediately take Rock back to Japan, to Balalaika and the massacre of the Kousa Council. "You'd make a fine villain." Rock has not forgotten those words, the words Balalaika gave for Rock after he asked her to massacre every last one of the Washimine Group.
"Someone like me?" Rock solemnly asks, almost whispering. Revy's eyes twitch. She takes another drag from her cigarette.
"No Rock, not exactly like you. You don't carry a fucking gun because of some half-assed belief that doing so proves a point. Unlike Luca, who carries a gun to show that he can kill, not because he needs it. He fucking irritates me. The sooner we get this job over with, the fucking better."
Rock turns his attention to the horizon, the Pacific stretched before him. He takes out a cigarette of his own and lights it with a match. Exhaling smoke, he gives a sigh as the Lagoon budges, beginning its return to Roanapur.
"Signora…do you…" Luca tries to talk to Revy inside the Lagoon.
"For the last time, shit for brains, it's Revy!" Revy snarls at Luca, glaring. She finds herself impressed that she hasn't pushed Luca overboard and left him to drown. Luca responds with a smile, the same largely expressionless smile he has responded to Revy the entire trip. Luca gets up from his chair and walks toward navigation. Walking through the opened door, Luca knocks on the wall to catch Dutch's attention.
"How long until we reach Roanapur?" Luca asks.
"4 days with a stop. We are making a stop at Port Moresby tomorrow, to buy gas and some storage goods." Dutch answers without turning to face Luca.
Luca nods his head, and then smells something. "I will never get the smell of fried spam out of my nose." Luca gives an annoyed smirk.
"Meatloaf without the basic training. Had my fill of it back in Vietnam." Dutch emotionlessly responds.
"You served in Vietnam?" Luca asks, with a wry smirk.
"Yes." Dutch blankly responds.
"How was it, fighting in the jungle? Seeing close friends get skewered on booby traps?" Luca asks, silently grinning.
"I would prefer not to answer." Dutch responds, mildly annoyed. Luca reaches for a cigarette, bemused. He leaves without saying a word. Walking back inside the lobby of the Lagoon, Luca sits on a chair. Revy ignores Luca as he lights his cigarette. Suddenly, Rock enters the lobby with a pair of bowls and a pair of beers juggled on his arms. "Microwaved and chopped spam with Sriracha sauce and beer." Rock announces.
Raising her head from the couch, Revy speaks out. "Ey Rock, want to know what would make this meal better?"
Rock reaches for a fork and starts twirling the fried false pork around in the bowl. "Rice?" Rock asks.
Rising from the couch with a violent smile on her face, Revy yells "IF THERE WASN'T ANY FUCKING SPAM IN IT!" Luca continues to smoke, not even flinching when Revy yells. "I am sick of fucking pork already. Someone make a pizza!"
Luca quietly chuckles. Revy notices this, which draws her ire. "And what the fuck is so funny Ozzy Osbourne? Fuck I hate this day."
Amused, Luca asks another question that he knows the answer to. "And what kind of canned foods can we buy in Port Moresby?"
Revy's eyes twitch again, the accent and the tone irritating her. She tries to think of something to say, and all she could say is "Fuck you" as she returns to ignoring Luca.
Rock notices the rising tension between Luca and Revy, which brings some concern to him. Opening a can of beer in preparation for his lunch, Rock analyzes Luca and realizes that he is intentionally drawing a reaction out of Revy. The question for Rock became 'why'. Revy's advice echoes through his head as Rock realizes what Luca is doing. 'What kind of person is this guy?' Rock asks himself, soaking in all the variables around him, as the torpedo boat roasts under the Pacific sun.