I forgot the disclaimers in the earlier entry.

Punisher belongs to Disney/Marvel.

Black Lagoon belongs to Rei Hiroe, Shogakukan Inc and Viz Media.

I want no money for this. Only reviews.

PROLOGUE 2

Headquarters of the International Criminal Police Organization (INTERPOL)

Lyon, France

8:00 AM, Local time, two days later

In a dark conference room, there were two men. Both were sitting, but one was showing a slide show on a large screen. The man in charge of the slide show was also a high ranking member of INTERPOL. He started speaking, in English, with only a slight French accent:

"Thank you for coming." He paused. The other man nodded. The INTERPOL agent clicked a button. A map appeared on the screen.

"That is the target area. The city of Roanapur in Thailand. A harbour town. Quite possibly the most corrupted city in the world. Home to all manner of fugitives, killers and murderers. But there are also normal people, civilians, who live there and who try to make a decent living. That city is the home of many of the most wanted criminals on our lists. The police there is a joke. They do absolutely nothing in the way of serious crime fighting. The reason the city is not in complete chaos in because there is a sort of pact, a cease fire, if you will, between the many criminal organizations. Though each faction has a small army among their ranks, they all share territories and none of them have any restrictions when it comes to making money. Drugs, human trafficking. Anything to maintain their power and wealth. They bribe and blackmail whoever they can't murder."

The INTERPOL agent took a second to repress the frustration and bitterness. He exhaled and went on.

"There are four prominent criminal syndicates in that city."

The slide changed to show the face of a man who has smooth features and blond hair. He was wearing a cocky smile on his clean shaven face.

"This," the man from INTERPOL said, "is the head of the Italian mafia. He has a few aliases but is mainly known as Ronny The Jaws. Vicious and ambitious. Relatively level headed. Unlike his second-in-command."

The screen showed a darker man, with darker hair, no facial hair, but harder features.

"Tomazo. He does or dispatches the dirty work. Short tempered, violent. A dangerous customer."

The next set of pictures showed several gentlemen of South American origin. There was a diagram. A picture was on top-the leader, a man in his 40s with a thin moustache and slick hair- with lines branching out to a few other men.

"This is the Roanapur chapter of the Manisarera Columbian cartel. The leader is a man called Abrego. He is cold-blooded and cunning. Not prone to excessive violence, but doesn't shy away from it either. His lieutenants are Gustavo and José. Loyal henchmen."

The screen then showed an Asian man. Handsome, smiling, wearing nice clothes and designer shades. Another man was next to him.

"This is Chang," the INTERPOL man said, "Don't let his movie star looks fool you: he'll put a bullet in your head as easily as he'd offer you a cigarette. He represents the Triads. Brillant. Ruthless. A keen strategic mind. From what we've heard, he's the moderate one among the...pillars of Roanapur. The long haired fellow next to him is Biu. He's right hand man."

Then another slide. A woman, approaching 40. Blonde. Blue eyes. Slavic features. She was wearing a burgundy business suit. She might have been attractive, if it weren't for the large section of her face that was burned. And next to her was a large, broad shouldered man with a scar making a diagonal across his hard features.

"Last, but not least: Balalaika. That's the name we have for her. Former Russian Special Forces."

"Spetsnaz," the other man said.

"Yes. She was part of the unpleasantness in Afghanistan. She's a very hard woman. When the Wall came down, she became a soldier without a country. She-along with dozens, maybe hundreds of former comrades-joined the Russian Mafia. She's now in charge of Hotel Moscow in Roanapur. The local branch of the Russian Syndicate. We've heard many adjectives about this one. Ruthless. Insane. War crazy. Her small army of veterans are fanatically loyal to her. Trained fanatics. Battle tested warriors, all of them. Like the man next to her. Boris. Her second-in-command. Probably the biggest of the syndicates. Probably the most dangerous of them all."

The slide show stopped. The INTERPOL agent stood and turned on the lights.

"There is more information," he said, "Freelancers. Wild cards. Like the Lagoon trading company."

"Lagoon?"

"Yes. Couriers. Mercenaries. We don't know exactly where their loyalties lie. But, they seem to be involved in many of the shady events. We will give it all to you on a CD-ROM. But those four groups are your primary targets. Also, the Church of Violence."

"They deal in weapons and intelligence. Run by this older nun, Yolanda? They operate out of an actual church... A younger nun works there. A real gunslinger. We know about them."

"So I see."

"Okay. So...what do you want from my people?"

"ICPO's charts limit us in the actions we can undertake. And we certainly don't have some of the...resources you and your people have. Those groups have made the city of Roanapur a no man's land of filth and crime. We can't touch them. Local governments turn a blind eye to what's going on there. But, if it were possible to...reduce the level of difficulty to facilitate-"

"Cut the crap. You want my agency to go in there and do the dirty work, in the spirit of...'interagency collaboration' or some shit, right? That much I figured out. Just tell me exactly what you want from me."

"Hard intelligence to take these people to justice. Most of what we have is hearsay and speculation. Or, worse comes to worse: termination, with extreme prejudice."

The ICPO agent's voice and face hardened when he spoke those words. The other man nodded.

"All right," said the man facing the ICPO member, "All right. Of course, if we get caught or killed, it's ours asses. That about sums it up?"

"That is accurate."

"Uh-huh. Now, we're being clear. Good. Now, I'll be clear. Your people will owe my people big time. Big fucking time. Not money, we ain't mercs. But..."

"We understand."

"I'll need a week, maybe two, to get a team to do this job. And brief them."

"Of course. We understand that as well."

"Swell. Black bag borderline suicide mission with no official back up."

The ICPO man handed a CD-ROM to the other man. The latter one took the disk, smiled and let out a wry chuckle.

"Heh. This should be loads of fun."