Have you ever had one of those days when you're supposed to be doing something really important...but just can't? That's me today and this is the result. In the last chapter, the cat got out of the bag and now the rest of Lagoon knows the Twins are alive again. I highly suggest putting 66 Steps from the soundtrack on for reading this chapter, I had it playing when I wrote the first draft of it. I hope you enjoy it and don't go nuts reading it.


For the first time she could remember, Revy found herself frozen. It couldn't be possible…it shouldn't be possible! Perhaps she had taken a bullet to the head and these were the vivid hallucinations of her brain's last dying moments. She pinched the side of her thigh…yep. That hurt. Well, since it wasn't a hallucination, there was only one thing to do. She drew her Cutlasses and leveled them on where the Twins were standing, hidden by Country's shoulders and back.

"Country! Get the fuck outta the way!" She yelled. Didn't he know who they were, what they were? How could he not feel the pure evil standing no more than arm's length away from him?

"Country! Will you fuckin' move?!" He stood and turned, his eyes went wide with shock as he saw the two barrels pointed at him.

"Now Mizz Revy, wha's tha big…oh my. Why…why are those pointed at me?"

"They're not pointed at you, they're pointed at them! Now move!" Country looked around at the rest of Lagoon, searching for someone to help him out. He found no one.

"Dutch?" The Remington 870 swung down from Dutch's shoulder and was held ready at waist level. "Mizz Sawyer, Mizz Shenhuah?" Two M1 Carbines were trained on the Twins hiding behind his legs. "Lotton?" The Wizard answered by thumbing a new shell into the '97's tube. "Oh Benny, you too?" Benny had his Thompson at high ready. He didn't look too sure about himself, but the gun stayed up. "Rock? C'mon buddy. Help me out here." Country said, looking visibly scared. He took a step backwards towards the Twins and his eyes darted quickly from person to person, gun barrel to gun barrel. His hands strayed nervously along his gunbelt, too close to his revolver for Revy's liking.

"Don't you even fuckin' think about it! Move aside!"

"Okay…look…" At Revy's bark, Country had his hands up at shoulder height. "Why don' we all jest simmer down some an' figger this out?"

"There's nothing to figure out Country." Dutch said. "Those two behind you are supposed to be dead and should have stayed that way. The longer they are here, the more danger they put themselves and us in."

"What? Oh, c'mon. They's jest kids, what could they have done?" Revy almost dropped her guns in shock, hardly believing the naïve words coming from Country.

"Oh, you don't know? The little devils haven't told you about the hundreds of skeletons in their closet?"

"You should watch who you call a devil lady." Hansel said from behind Country.

"You hush up right now boy!" Country snapped, glaring down at Hansel. "Ah'm tryin' mah best here an' sass like that ain' helpin' me. Best fer you at tha moment is to be seen an' not heard." He looked back at Lagoon, confusion in his eyes as seven guns were trained in his direction. He looked over at Rock, his face pleading, screaming for help. Rock had no idea what to do. He could help Country, someone he hardly knew, sure. That would put him up against the rest of Lagoon and the Terrible Trio. Dutch, Revy and Benny probably wouldn't shoot him. Lotton was liable to miss him completely. Shenhuah certainly would and he was pretty sure Sawyer just saw everyone as a piece of meat that hadn't met her chainsaw yet.

On the other hand, he had tried to save them once, and had almost succeeded, at least with Gretel. It was a failure that had tormented him for weeks on end and still did some nights. He couldn't forget her smiling face running over with blood as she expired on the dock, cut down like a rabid dog. But now…they were back. It was if they were here to remind him of his failure. Perhaps they weren't real, just specters that had crossed the void to haunt and torment those that had wronged them in their past life. As Rock see-sawed as to what he should do, a dark grey car pulled through the airfield's gate. It headed down the runway straight for them.

Benny noticed the car first and dropped his gun like it had burned him.

"Where're you goin'?" Country asked as Benny turned away.

"Fuck it! Fuck it all! I. AM. OUT." Benny said as he headed for the GTO.

"Oh c'mon man, wha's tha problem?" Benny didn't stop walking but he did answer Country.

"If that's whose car I think it is, anyone in a half mile radius of this spot is dead meat and I intend to stay off the menu."

"Ain't we friends?"

"Yeah we are…but it's Miss Balalaika…there's nothing I can do."

"Ai-yah! I with him!" Shenhuah said, dropping her gun. "You pay Country, yes, but you no pay enough for this. I leave now, good luck Bumpkin!" She turned and followed Benny with Lotton and Sawyer in tow.

The car pulled up and the door swung open. A cloud of cigar smoke wafted out from inside the cabin. Miss Balalaika stepped out, distracted by her phone.

"Very well. I'll talk to you later Chang…baby." She teased and hung up. "Good evening Lagoon Company and associates! I thought I'd stop by and see the cause of all the noise you've been make…ing…" She trailed off; her cigar tumbled from her lips and snuffed out as it hit the ground. Her face flashed from confusion to fear to rage faster than a stoplight. She tried to find words; something to articulate the feelings flashing through her but all that came out was a scream of revulsion and horror. So terrible it was that the hackles of all who heard it were raised and even Sergeant Boris seemed taken aback at his Capitan's reaction.

"Wh…what are those…" Balalaika stabbed out with a quivering finger "THINGS! Doing here?!"

Over to the side of the gathering, Dutch muttered a quiet "Oh fuck me…"

"And why…" Balalaika continued "Are you standing in front of them Country?!" She shrieked as another storm rent the sky. The heavens opened up in the second big storm of the monsoon, soaking everyone. Country readjusted his hat so the rain wouldn't drip onto his face and continued to stand defiantly where he was with his arms folded across his chest, seemingly rooted to the spot.

"Answer me!" Balalaika yelled, holding her coat open so she could go for her gun.

"Ah stand in front of 'em 'cause there ain' no one willin' to stand beside 'em."

. . .

The rain continued to pour, snuffing out the fires of the burning trucks. A lightning flash lit up the runway as bright as noon and it was plain to see Balalaika was smiling.

"Very admirable Country…" She said, reaching inside her coat. "But also so very stupid, you dumb Hick." The Stechkin came out and was on its way up to its target. The Highway Patrolman cleared leather and its hammer was halfway back when a white button-up shirt appeared between the two.

"Yaponski! Not this again." Balalaika groaned as Rock stood between her and Country and the Twins. "I thought we had already agreed you weren't going to be acting out this little…hobby of yours when I'm around?"

"Sorry Miss Balalaika." Rock said, spreading his arms to cover more of the three behind him. "But old habits are hard to break."

"I was under the impression I spared your life once for this foolishness and made it clear I wouldn't make the same mistake twice…yet here you are."

"Come on, shooting them isn't going to solve anything!"

"Actually Rock, you couldn't be more wrong." Balalaika's smile widened to a cruel grimace. "You see, I can kill Country and he will have paid for the property of mine he stole with his blood. Then, I'll shoot those little brats behind him and they'll be dead for good this time. I will ensure there will be no way in Heaven, Earth or Hell that they can ever be brought back again. By the time I'm finished with them, the Devil himself will recoil with disgust should he lay eyes on them!" She paused, and then her face brightened a bit as if she'd just had an epiphany. "And while I'm at it, shooting you is becoming all the more appealing. It's nothing personal you see, but at least you will never be getting in my way like this ever again."

"Hey Sis!" Revy said, guns now pointed at the Twins and Balalaika. "I'd bury any thoughts like shooting Rock. They won't end well for you."

"Oh, how sweet of you Two-Hands, concerned for Rock are you?"

"Keep talking shit like that and you'll see just how concerned I can get." Revy couldn't figure out who to focus on with her guns. On her right were the Twins. They were unarmed but that was little comfort. On her left was Balalaika and she was certainly carrying. Worse was the rain and lightning. One flash of lightning could look like a shot, one roar of thunder could be mistaken for a round being fired and the little squabble could end in a bloodbath.

"Hold up. Hold up, hold up jest one secon'!" Country said, lowering his gun. "Don' this seem to be ah little outta proportion to anyone? Like, ain' we makin' ah mountain out of a molehill?" Everyone looked at Country, at each other and then back to Country and wondered what he was getting at.

"Ah mean, Ah'm still not even sure why yer all steamed up over two dern kids."

"They're sadistic, cruel and twisted demons that…" Balalaika started to say.

"Ah'm sorry to interrupt what Ah'm sure is ah well-written ramble with ah slideshow an' pie charts…" Country cut her off before she got into full swing. "But Ah don' wanna hear it from you." He turned around and knelt before the Twins. "Ah'm wantin' the story from the horses' mouth. Ah wanna hear their version." The thought had never occurred to anyone else present. Ask…the Twins…for their story and how they felt?

"I think he go dien cai dao." Shenhuah whispered to Sawyer and Lotton as they watched from behind the GTO with Benny.

"Okay kiddos. Let's hear it." The Twins looked confused, unsure what was being asked of them or what to say.

"Where should we, I mean, what do I…?" Hansel asked, uneasy with all the eyes on him.

"Start from the beginnin' an' tell whatever needs tellin'." Country put a hand on Hansel's shoulder. "Ah'll lissen tah whatever y'all got to say. Git all of it outta yer system." They nervously peered over Country's shoulders at Balalaika, waiting with her gun in line with Rock, then Country's back, and them. On their left was Revy, one Cutlass pointed straight at them and the other at Balalaika, her fingers taking up slack in the triggers.

"Don' be lookin' at them. Jest look at me, 'kay? Start from tha beginnin' an' make sure yah speak up so's everyone can hear."

. . .

Their story started with their birthplace, Romania. There was the orphanage, a tall, cold, dark and foreboding castle of a house. Its days were filled with gloom and nights with bad dreams and crying oneself to sleep on a half-empty stomach of moldy bread and soup so thin you could read a newspaper through it.

Then there was a car. It was going to take them away to where "some very nice men" were going "to take care of them", or at least that's what the head of the orphanage told them. They saw the money change hands and didn't understand what it meant…at first.

Things immediately took a turn for the worse in their story as they recounted their first film: "Hansel and Gretel go to School." They had thought it was a game; they were even given uniforms to change into. They were shoved into a room with desks, chairs, a blackboard and everything a classroom usually contains except for the stern looking, older man in a grey suit and the camera crew. They said the man began yelling at them in a language they didn't understand. He grew louder and harsher, throwing things around the room as he worked himself into a rage. They hadn't known what was going on and being just children, they started to cry. Their tears only enraged the man more and he had then began to beat Gretel. Hansel tried to protect his sister and was beaten as well. The film concluded with both being raped and then beaten again, for good measure. After the final take, they were tossed into a room and left to themselves.

For what seemed an eternity, the stories continued and each was more terrible than the last. The Twins began to cry softly as their memories came flooding back. Their tears mixed with the rain that was pouring down in sheets, their silver hair matted down to their heads. The detail they remembered was staggering. Every punch, kick, slap, broken bone was accounted for. Black eyes, broken and bloody noses, nights spent writhing in agony from pain and hunger were too many to count. Every rape, film, photograph was dredged up for all to hear…and then their fighting started.

Their first fight had been a two versus two. It was Twins VS Twins. Silver hair and blue eyes were pitted against brown hair and brown eyes with a baseball bat between the four of them. First bruises, then lacerations and finally, cracked and leaking skulls later it ended. For once, because of their victory, they were not beaten. The pattern repeated itself the next night, and the night after that. The harder they fought, the crueler and more ingenious their methods, the louder those watching cheered and the better they were treated. The more they killed, the longer they were allowed to live.

They were still raped, still filmed, still rented out to whoever had the fattest checkbook and possessed the most twisted mind. The duo told how they became a traveling show of sorts, a freak circus. Instead of fairways, their venues were underground dens, dank basements, hidden coves in dark forests and even the brightly lit and ornate halls of politicians and nobility. Wherever they were sent the sick, perverted and deranged came slithering out of the woodwork. Every new city was a fresh look into the world of darkness where no kind hand would even dare reach into to try and pull even the smallest and most innocent from its depths.

As the Twins continued, those who remained in earshot and hadn't already walked away in disgust found they were transfixed. It was the same with an accident on the road. People will drive by in their cars and see the wreckage. It is always a horrific scene, grotesque to behold and terrifying to witness. But, the observer will always find they are unable to look away. Their eyes are drawn to the carnage, no matter how awful, no matter how loudly their mind screams at them to look away. The same held true for the Twins tale as it wound ever and ever on…going further and further down the rabbit hole.

Their violence became refined, sophisticated in a depraved sense of the word. They told of how they were hired for their first assassination: Murder of a local mayor. They had posed simply as themselves, sold to him as slaves for a week to do whatever he commanded. After their first and only night at his manor, the mayor was found dead. He had been hung from the chandelier in the foyer and then drawn and quartered with knives from the kitchen. Demand for their skills exploded as they found themselves on a tour of Europe and racking up a body count along the way. Every fresh kill, every film, every beating took their tender souls and rent them in half and then those halves were ripped into quarters, eighths, sixteenths…until all the remaining pieces simply would sift through your fingers like grains of sand on the beach. Finally driven to madness, their acclaim crossed hemispheres to the Roanapur branch of the Italian mafia.

That part of the story was still very fresh in everyone's minds except for Country's of course. He hadn't said too much while the Twins talked, only a few prodding words here and there when they had faltered. His face had turned ashen and was drawn tight as he listened, his eyes hidden under the brim of his hat. A few times it looked as if he was going to be sick as his body trembled with disgust. He choked the feeling down and stubbornly continued to remain rooted in his place.

The Twins rehashed their deeds in Roanapur for Country's understanding. The Russians they had cut up and gunned down in the bar, the one they had taken alive and tortured. Every hammer blow, every nail and every twitch of the man's corpse was described in minute detail; much to the dismay of the stomachs of everyone listening.

They finally began wrapping up with their deaths. As they relived them, Country glanced over his shoulder at Balalaika and attempted to make eye contact but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. They went on to describe the lab, their dreams as they lay comatose. Gretel spoke of her revelation after months of reflection, then their escape and discussion at the bus stop. Then, for everyone besides Country, they made their conclusion. Two weeks ago they had arrived at the airfield and Country had allowed them to stay. They had begged, pleaded and offered to do anything for him as long as he didn't breathe a word to anyone that he had seen them or that they were even alive. With no questions asked, he'd stopped dialing the Lagoon Company office number and hung up the phone.

. . .

Finally, they'd a chance to tell their side of things. 13 years of cruelty an' sufferin' had been dug-up an' tumbled out through ah series of sniffles, hiccups, sobs and tears. I took a gander 'round to see how everyone else was doin'. The best way to describe the average look was mortified at least. Benny'd made it until their first fight an' s'cused himself to disappear behind tha hangar an' had yet to return. He was followed by Mizz Sawyer, Mizz Shenhuah an' Lotton not long after. Rock had turned green as ah seasick crocodile an' probably wouldn' make it to behind tha hangar if he sprinted. Mizz Revy looked almost angry. The stories had probably resurrected ah few memories of her own she thought she'd long forgotten. Dutch was stoic as ever, holding everything back behind his Hoover Dam of sunglasses. Boris had turned around, unable to look. He continued to listen however, not abandoning his post at his Capitan's side. Mizz Balalaika seemed to me struck dumb, her Stechkin held limply at her side. For once, it seemed she couldn' think of anythin' clever or witty to say. She'd known of their lives an' certainly what they'd done in this city. I guess what slice she did know paled in comparison to tha full story. Listening to them talk an' recount everything in full, living color had certainly succeeded in unsettling her. Mizz Balalaika stood unresponsive; I guess her mind was reelin' from the full scale of the new information. Well, time to see if it did ah lick of good.

. . .

Country stood up. The Highway Patrolman went back into its holster and the shotgun's sling was hiked up his shoulder. The Twins looked up at him with their eyes shimmering, puffy and red from the past hour. He pulled out a handkerchief from his back pocket and held it out to them.

"C'mon now. Dry yer eyes. Wipe yer nose Hansel, yah got snot leakin' like ah fire hydrant." He sighed and leaned back so the rain pattered down on his face. He stood motionless like that for a moment, like he was a tree being watered by the storm.

"Whooooooooooo…" Country breathed, staring up at the sky, hands on his gunbelt and eyes shut. His throat quivered and stomach jumped as he tried his best to concentrate on not throwing up.

"Country, are you…?" Rock began to ask but Country waved him off.

"Jest…uhg…give me ah sec'…Ah'm…uh-ugh…gonna need ah moment." He finally got his body to behave and slowly turned around to face Balalaika again.

. . .

"Ohhh…kayyyy…Mizz Balalaika." I said, tryin' to keep my stomach at bay. "Ah don' know 'bout you, but that little yarn has given me 'nough Nightmare Fuel fer ah hundred years, at least."

"It was certainly a lot more…in depth…than I had anticipated." Mizz Balalaika said quietly. Fer a moment, everyone stood clammed-up, starin' either off into space or at the ground an' not darin' to look at each other. The only sounds came from tha snifflin' behind me an' the poundin' of the rain on the broken chunks of the runway. I cleared my throat an' after a few false starts I found my voice again.

"Ah'd uh, like to say somethin'. They've had their go, an' Ah'd jest like to add to it a little. If yah still has a mind to, go ahead an' shoot me but at least lemme finish." Mizz Balalaika didn' raise her gun so I continued.

"Let's go along with Mr. Wells an' his machine back ah few years. Look at yerselves now with tha eyes of yer past self. Is what you see how you pictured yerself five, ten, twenty years ah-go? I sure ain't what I pictured five years ago. Rock, lemme pick on you fer ah secon'. You didn' see yerself in Roanapur five years ago, hell, you prob'bly didn' even know it existed. You prob'bly saw yerself in ah corner office by now. Mizz Revy, you prob'bly, Ah dunno, saw yerself gittin' shit put right, findin' peace in life or maybe finishin' school. An' you Mizz Balalaika, I am sure you didn' see yerself runnin' tha Roanapur branch of tha Russian mob, am I wrong?"

"No…" She said, still refusing to meet anyone's eyes.

"Same's with Hansel an' Gretel here. Ah'm sure they couldn' have even imagined the life they was goin' to be leadin' for tha past 13 years an' how much of ah hell it was gonna be. Ah'll bet they wish they could go back an' do it over an' would if they could. I'm sure everyone here has something they wish they could do over or not do at all. Rock, maybe yah wish some days you'd never gotten on that ship or had managed tah talk some sense intah that girl ya carry ah photo of in yer wallet."

"How do you know about that?"

"Not important right now."

"Revy told you?"

"…May have mentioned it. An' speakin' of Revy, Ah'd bet she wishes some days that she got outta Mott Street sooner or done things different in her life, jest fer example. I know I do. Some days Ah would saw off mah trigger finger to be given a chance to go back to tha day Ah signed up for tha militia. Ah'd march in that meetin' hall, haul my dumbass 18 year old self outta there by his ear, put him in his truck an' send him straight home. These two behind me ain' no different. They's done some awful an' terrible stuff that'd make some fellahs in tha Jackson state penitentiary hurl. But jest like me, an' Rock an' Revy, they can' go back an' change it. What 'bout you?" I decided to throw the ball in her court an' see if she'd pick up an' play. "Anythin' in yer life you wish'd gone different?"

"I fail to see how that is any of your business!" She snapped.

"Ma'am, Ah already know 'bout the Olympics." Ah said an' that got her good.

"How do you know about that? Who did you talk to?" She said quickly.

"No one. Remember tha day we first met an' Ah was in yer office? You have ah bunch of VHS tapes on yer bookshelf. Mah Russian ain' tha greatest but 'Olympics 1984' an' 'Olympics 1988' an' so on is ah dead give away. That'n 'Balalaika' is known even in tha States as to be slang fer tha Dragunov. Wasn't hard to figger out."

"Well congratulations Country, should I call be calling you Holmes now? You beating me over the head with my past isn't going to make me change my mind."

"I'm jest tryin' to make a point."

"Well get to it then, before I shoot you out of boredom."

"We all have skeletons in our closets. Some more 'n' others. We all have strayed from where we'd planned on endin' up in life an' made plenty of mistakes 'long tha way. Again, some more 'n' others. We all had things we was gonna do, what we wanted outta life. Yers was to compete in tha Olympics. These two? Who's to say if they never are given ah chance to live their life freely? Tha's all Ah'm askin'. We may have missed our chances, our dreams in our lives. That feelin' of messin' up may eat at us from tha inside out so bad that by the time it reaches our skins, we're dead. But that don' mean we hafta take theirs away from them. Jest give 'em ah chance to do somethin' with their life besides suffer." She seemed to think about it for a moment, her brow furrowed as she planned out her response.

"And why, should I allow that to happen? What's in it for me?"

"W'all, the way I figger it, you at least ain't got nuthin' to lose. If they're gonna try an' change like they says, then you'll never haftah worry about them causin' trouble for you ever again."

"And what happens should they don't?"

"Thought you'd ask. Ah guess you'd consider me their caretaker since they's stayin' with me. That'd make me responsible fer their actions. Sooo…Ah guess you'd shoot me then." I said. That seemed to appeal to Mizz Balalaika an' she laughed at the thought, ah most unpleasant sound fer me.

"And since you wouldn't be around to complain, I suppose I'd kill them after that wouldn't I?"

"Well that'd be tha logical next step so, yeah Ah suppose." Mizz Balalaika thought it over, weighing out her options. Shoot me an' tha kids now…or let me think I got away with it an' wait fer them to shoot up ah bar or chop up the wrong man on the street and THEN shoot us. Either way she got what wanted. She couldn't see herself losing Ah guess.

"You know what Country? I think I'll play a little game with you." She said, letting off the hammer on her Stechkin. "I'm not going to kill you…today." The Stechkin went back into its holster inside her coat. "Instead, I'm going to let you try and prove me wrong. Let's suppose they do become productive citizens, then it will be as you say and I'll have nothing to worry about." She paused an' lightnin' flashed 'cross the sky, showin' her eyes, merciless as a wolf circlin' a dyin' deer. "But I know it won't happen. They are not going to change, they will never change. I'm going to enjoy every moment of watching you fail. I'll enjoy it right up to the moment I put bullets in all three your skulls." She said with a smug look that made it appear she considered herself already the winner. "You're living with two trained animals Country. Two wolves from the wild. They may have learned not to shit in the house or rip up the furniture but it's only a matter of time before their wild side comes back and they bite your head off. I wouldn't be surprised if you're found with your throat cut within the week."

"Well Ah survived tha first two weeks in one piece. Not ah bad start I'd say."

"HA! You've just been lucky." She adjusted her coat an' started to her car. She stopped and addressed Dutch. "Oh, and Dutch. From one employer to another, I would have a company meeting if I were you. Your pilot and some of your sailors have…" Her eyes flicked from me to Revy an' to Rock. "Forgotten their places." She climbed inside her car and slammed the door shut behind her. Her window dropped as she wanted to get in one last word.

"Country, don't forget that I'll be watching you and those little brats. One slip-up…" She lit up a cigar and blew a cloud of smoke out the window. "And you're dead to the world. Understand me?"

"Perfectly ma'am." I said.

"Very well. You have been warned." She put up her window an' her car rolled away into tha rainy night.

. . .

Inside the car, Balalaika pulled angrily on her cigar, burning through it at double her usual rate. Boris was silent as he tried to find words that could even begin to cover what had happened. He looked at his Capitan who was very much distressed about the evening's turn of events. She looked quite upset and stared out her window silently, watching the city lights flick by.

"Capitan? Are you feeling alright?" Boris asked. Balalaika was silent for a while, just puffing away on her cigar. Boris decided he would just wait for an answer if it ever came.

"God damn him Sergeant…" She said softly, tiredly running her fingers through her hair and holding her bangs out of her eyes as she leaned on the car door. "He just had to get them to tell their entire library of horrors, had to bring up the Olympics and jab right at my heart like that."

"Capitan, if I may speak freely?"

"Of course Sergeant." It was now Boris's turn to sit quietly as he tried to put what was on his mind in the best of phrases.

"In my years of serving at your command, I have never heard so horrid a story as theirs. I probably will not sleep tonight. What was done to them is…beyond description."

"That is all true Sergeant but what are you trying to say?"

"Miss, allow me to explain it this way. In my home, there was an old man who was a vetran of the Great Patriotic War. He had been a tank commander but his vehicle was hit with a white phosphorous shell. He lost his right leg below the knee, part of his right hand, was blind in one eye, was deaf and was horribly disfigured from the chemicals. He had no family, no friends to take care of him. He slipped into drunkenness and had a ferocious temper even when he was sober. But, every night without fail, my mother would fix a small meal, roll it up in a cloth and send me down the street to deliver it. He was always cross, usually in some stage of drunkenness. I did that every night for years. Many times he wasn't even awake when I went, passed out from drinking. I always wondered why we were so kind to such a bitter person. One day I could not wonder about it anymore and asked my mother. She said it was because 'Those who show the least kindness are often those who need kindness the most'."

"So what do you want me to do Sergeant? Bake them a cake, send a bouquet of flowers with an 'I'm sorry you had a fucked up childhood' card?"

"No, that wasn't what I meant. I'm just…thinking that we may give them a chance. A small bit of kindness on our part may go a long way on their end."

"Your old age is catching up to you Sergeant." She rolled down her window to let out some of the built up smoke. "I think you're going soft on me."

"Ma'am, perhaps we have become too hard. I have been a soldier all my life. I have done and seen things I can never forget. But for us soldiers there has always been a mission, an objective, something to accomplish and a reason for every action. Every kill is necessary, calculated. Even those children the first time they came to this city were necessary to kill. We had comrades to avenge, an organization to protect and we were preventing further deaths. And we did. But now…" Boris paused to see if Balalaika was going to stop him. She didn't and continued to watch the city pass by outside her window. "Well, you know how the men and I worry about you."

"Hmm…what of it?"

"I'm just concerned you want to kill them just for killing's sake. We do not stand to gain anything from it…"

"I think that will do Sergeant." Balalaika said as they arrived at her office. They exited the car, trying to catch the least amount of rain. Boris walked her up the front steps as he had done every night for years. Balalaika stopped at the door, looking like she had something that was weighing heavily on her mind.

"If you would listen to my thoughts for a moment Sergeant."

"Of course Capitan."

"Damn that goofball Bumpkin. God damn him, he's right." She said bitterly. "Look at us, proud and honorable soldiers reduced to gangsters. If only I could go back and set things right…"

"The Olympics ma'am?"

"Yes…maybe not even that, maybe doing things differently in the war…" She was down to the dog-end of her cigar and smoked quietly for a moment, blowing the smoke out her mouth in short, angry, puffs.

"The child from the refugee camp?" Boris asked.

"Yes…" She said and continued to smoke.

"Whatever happened to that child?"

"I don't know. Most likely it was sent back to Afghanistan and was probably dead within a week, maybe a month. If it lived through that, probably in the Mujahideen now, training to fight the next war in that shithole."

"What do you believe happened?"

"I tell myself the child was sent somewhere far away. Maybe it became a scientist, a writer, a doctor…something better than an opium grower or resistance fighter. If they were able to do that, I could sleep maybe just a little better at night."

"So what about these two, the Twins? What do you think they will do, become normal or at least something like it?"

"It's hard to say. If Two-Hands doesn't beat Country to death for tonight and Dutch doesn't fire him, I'd say that they might stand a ghost of a chance with Lagoon watching over them...of course that would be like the lunatics running the asylum. Time will be the only sure way to tell." Her cigar fizzled out and she pulled out her lighter to light it again.

"So you actually think they do stand a chance?"

"Well, anything in this world is possible I suppose. And like Country said, if they relapse, then I get to kill them…if I want to." She relit her cigar, brightening the front stoop of her office. In the light, she looked very tired, lines were starting to creep across her face and bags were forming under her eyes. 'I need a vacation' she thought.

"Are you going to tell Country you think they might make it?"

"And miss the chance to mess with the boy? Sergeant, you really don't know me after all."

. . .

"Well I hope you're fuckin' happy!" Revy hollered at me, throwin' her Cutlasses back into their holsters. "You just had to go and piss off Big Sis and paint a huge fuckin' target on all of our backs!"

"Well 'scuse me fer stoppin' her splatterin' them two all across mah runway! What did'ja want from me Mizz Revy? To jest let her kill 'em?!" I shot back as we all walked to the house and out of the rain.

"I'm still on the fence about that." Revy said, glaring at the Twins like she was waitin' fer them to sprout fangs, claws an' start attackin' whoever was within arms reach. "If they don't learn to behave themselves, I'll save Balalaika the work and kill them myself." She leaned over to talk to Hansel. "You'd better figure out how to watch that mouth of yours. Smartin' off like that in this city is gonna get you more than a few brand new assholes. And you!" She rounded on Gretel. "I don't want to be hearin' you talking any sort of weird shit with Rock again or I'll have to beat the hell out of you. Got me?!"

"Revy, take it easy on them, they just went through a lot." Rock said as he stepped on the porch. "I mean, they did just go through their entire life story."

"AND YOU!" Revy snagged Rock by tha tie an' dragged him around the side of the house, yellin' on about how she can' be protectin' his sorry ass if he's always puttin' in in tha line of fire. Their hollerin' faded out as they argued and Dutch motioned fer me to join him down tha porch, outta earshot of everyone else.

"What's up boss?" I asked, thinkin' this was gonna be a 'yer dumb ass is fired' talk. Dutch stared out across the airfield, watchin' the rain fall an' puddle in the cracks of the runway. He fiddled with the pockets of his flak jacket an' pulled out ah crumpled pack of cigarettes.

"Smoke?"

"Nah...oh what tha hell." We smoked fer ah spell an' I waited fer Dutch to say somethin'. As tha longer he didn't, I decided it was up to me to break silence.

"Am I fired?"

"HA!" Dutch laughed, a deep chuckle that sounded like ah mountain shakin'. "If I fired my sailors' everytime they did something as stupid, asinine, and suicidal as that stunt you just pulled, I would burn through three a month and Revy wouldn't have lasted her first week." He started rubbing his head, like the motion would release ah magic genie outta his ear that'd grant him three wishes to solve all his troubles. "So no, you're not fired, today." He blew out a cloud of smoke an' held his forehead with his free hand, tha day must've been gittin' to him.

"Some days I feel like I'm running a psych ward, with all of you kids as patients and it's all I can do to keep you from killing each other or getting killed by the stupid shit you get yourselves into. Now it looks like there are two more to add to the list." We looked over at tha Twins down the porch. They were talkin' to Shenhuah an' Lotton while Sawyer hid behind Shenhuah. The kids seemed to have ah natural gift of gab, or maybe jest had never had an audience that was willin' to lissen to 'em. Either way, they seemed intent on talkin' Shenhuah an' Lotton's ears off.

"Yep, seems that way. Dutch…what do you think?"

"About what?"

"Did Ah do the right thing? Do they stand ah chance? Is Mizz Balalaika seriously gonna kill 'em?"

"Well Country, I think under the circumstances and what information you knew of, you did the right thing. I would say that you still should have told me at the least about them. As far as Miss Balalaika goes, the answer to that question ought to be obvious to you. Them standing a chance, well that's different. I don't know. It will be part of us to try and shape them in a good form, but most of the responsibility for that lies with them." Dutch finished his cigarette, dropped it and crushed it out with his boot. Rock and Revy came back from around the house with Revy fumin' an' Rock lookin' like he'd jest ran through tha beaches of Normandy. Benny sheepishly reappeared from behind tha hangar an' idled up to tha porch. With everyone gathered, Dutch decided to close out tha day.

"Well people, it seems we have picked up two more misfits." He said, looking at tha Twins. "You two are going to learn to behave and listen to Country…right?" He asked sternly. The Twins nodded. "That's good to hear, but actions speak louder than words. For the next few weeks, you're on probation and under house arrest. You may be safe at this airfield and inside its fence, but there are a lot of people outside that gate who would love to get ahold of you. Country." He addressed me, but kept looking at the Twins. He was doin' it again. That stare where he looks through his sunglasses an' into yer heart, readin' people as easy as you'd read ah billboard. I wondered what he would see in the depths of their hearts.

"Yessir?"

"I'd better not have nor hear any trouble out of these two. You did well not losing your temper today with Miss Balalaika but things were still too close. Do not…screw this up."

"Ah'll do mah best Dutch. After all, its mah head that ends up on tha choppin' block if things go south."

"Good. I'm glad you understand. Now, let's all head out and get some sleep. We need to be up early tomorrow, there's a shipment for the Columbians coming in and we need to pick it up."

Everyone got in their cars an' went back to their homes fer tha night. Ah got tha Twins upstairs an' intah bed. They was tuckered out from tha day an' dropped right off to sleep. Once they were settled, I got ah beer from the fridge an' sat down on tha front porch to think. I ran over tha day in mah head, the sheer insanity of it all. Ah'd have never guessed what the Twins life was like 'fore they came wanderin' into mine. Their story was probably gonna make sleepin' fer me tonight hard. All things considered an' how it could have gone, today went alright. I figgered I could spent all night goin' over all the different ways things could go wrong fer me, worryin' about Mizz Balalaika blowin' mah head off fer tryin' to show some kindness in ah city were words like 'feelings' an' 'empathy' were four letter words, but that'd be ah waste of time. No point in worryin' about what could be comin'. Best to do is jest take things one day at ah time an' hope fer tha best.

I tossed the can into the trash an' made my way upstairs. I stopped an' peeked into tha Twins room. They were sawin' logs, passed out cold. Ah'd fixed them up with two small beds but they'd insisted on pushin' them together. They lay sleepin'like they was gittin' paid fer it, holdin' hands. Ah closed the door an' went to mah own room, fallin' back onto mah bed an' starin' up at tha ceilin'. I'd sure stuck my neck out tah-day, puttin' my life on tha line fer two kids.

"Well yah big doofus. Was it worth it?" I asked myself. "Guess you'll have to wake up tomorrow an' see."

. . .


This was an interesting chapter to write, I went through three different versions of it before I finally settled on this one. The original had everyone in Country's house for dinner and Miss Balalaika just showed up unannounced. Scrapped that. Next was kind of the same but Country and Miss Balalaika slug it out, knives and brass knuckles get pulled and it gets really ugly...also scrapped. The more I read it, the goofier and dumber it sounded. I mean, honestly: If Country and Miss Balalaika got into a fistfight, there's no way Country is walking away from that because...Spetznaz. So this is what I ended with and I hope you enjoyed it. As always, feel free to review and let me know how I'm doing.