Well, I got my computer back. Here's a quick chapter before I leave for the week.
Rated M for satanic themes, violent killing/death scenes, language, and dark humor.
Disclamer: I do not own Black Lagoon. I only own Phantom
A Mongolian man exited an uptown barber shop. Blood could be seen on the front of his shirt, and he carried a HK USP .45 in his hand. I'm never taking a job to take out some shitty barber ever again, he thought angrily, clutching his arm to his side, hoping to stop the bleeding from the laceration under his ribcage, which had come from a sharpened pair of scissors. As he walked down the street, he saw a glint from the top of one of the buildings in front of him. He inhaled sharply and started running the way he had come.
Phantom peered through his scope at the Mongolian man running in his direction. So he fell for both of the decoys, he thought, so much for the 'best' assassin in Mongolia. He's probably used to raiding villages instead of killing in a city. Phantom pulled back the charging handle for his custom made Barrett M107, decorated with engravings of pentagrams, with a black and red finish and a bright green trim. It was loaded with his favorite incendiary rounds with serrations. He gently nosed the muzzle down at the target and fired twice. Through his scope, he saw the first round cause the man's right leg to explode in a red mist. The second round separated the man's head into two parts. The Phantom sat back, satisfied.
Suddenly, a chill went down Phantom's spine. He whipped a Glock 18 out of its holster, turned around, and fired at the door to the roof access staircase, which was several meters behind him, until the twenty two-round clip was empty. A thud was heard from behind the bullet-ridden door. Phantom walked towards the door and opened it. Another Mongolian man with a scar on his face laid in a pool of blood, an assault rifle in his arms. "So this was the real assassin," Phantom said to himself silently, "Damn, I need to shake off some rust."
"What?" everyone else in the room said collectively.
"Wh-What do you mean 'last job'?" Rock asked, trembling uncontrollably. Benny was also shaking. Even the steely Revy was wearing a look of horror. She knew Dutch could be a lot of things, but he was not a liar or a kidder.
Dutch's hands clenched. "Yeah, Rock," he said in a low voice, "What does 'last job' mean? We have to kill an assassin whose killed thousands of men, women, and even children." Dutch stopped. Then, he slammed his fists on the table and snarled, "We have to kill a demon incarnate! That's what 'last job' means, Rock!"
Everyone was silent, and it was silent for some time.
Benny broke the silence and asked, "Maybe there's some mistake. What if this is the wrong story?"
"Benny-boy," Dutch said in the same low voice, "this is Balalaika giving us this job. If she was the kind of person who made mistakes, Hotel Moscow might not even exist."
"What if there is some kind of mistake, Dutch?" Revy asked, "I mean, killing the devil? Not exactly something you get hired to do."
Dutch sighed impatiently, "If it makes you happy, I'll call Balalaika to confirm the appointment, but don't get your hopes up."
Dutch picked up the phone and dialed the number to Balalaika.
Balalaika was going through papers of some mundane affair on the lower levels of the Hotel when the phone rang.
"Is this Dutch?" she inquired.
"That's a good guess, Ms. Balalaika," Dutch answered over the phone.
"Did you see the story on the news?" she asked.
"Yeah, now answer me a question," Dutch responded, "How do you suppose we kill The Phantom of Roanapur?"
"What?" Ms. Balalaika said, confused.
"How are we supposed to kill him?"
Balalaika began laughing hysterically. Once she was able to speak, she said, "Oh, Dutch, you misunderstand! You're not gonna kill him. You're gonna help him kill anyone he needs to before he leaves again!"
She then hung up, leaving Dutch to wonder what was going to happen next.
Hope you enjoyed this chapter! R&R and follow me on Tumblr for updates and progress (link's on my profile).