Hey guys, Cross177 here with another Saint of Roaranapor. Haven't seen you guys since Thanksgiving. At least it wasn't a whole year, hell, beat my last update by 10 to 11 months. But you know how it is with school and shit. And school for most University students is up and coming in the next few days, so at least the Nazi Arc is done and over with.
DP: Hey, when the hell are you putting me in this?
You're already in it.
DP: Bullshit, I haven't seen hide or hair of my ass in here.
Not true, I'm using the Nolan North voice for The Boss/President.
DP: (guns cocking) Don't try that crap with me author.
Do it and I'll do to you what Wiz did to you in the Pinkie vs Deadpool episode of DeathBattle. And I ain't an artist that can put you back.
DP: Fine! Don't remind me. Buuuut that was an awesome birthday party. I swear, that pink horsie introduced to me to a whole new world of Changas.
Enjoy, I do hope I made this good. If you don't like it or something seems amiss that I may have left out that I was trying to give, don't be afraid to put it in the reviews or my PMs.
Chapter 4: Part 2: Saint on a Boat
Lagoon Co. Boat
Night fell as the three offensive members of the group suited up and geared up. Revy back in her usual wear, donning on her cut-off jeans, black tank top and combat boots, holsters were strapped over her shoulders and her twin cutlasses holstered in there. A dark scowl was marred on her face as she walked up on deck.
Dutch was set up with a SPAS-12 shotgun slung over his shoulder, buckling on an ammo belt filled to the brim with buckshot shells. Side arm ready, holstered at his side was his Colt .45 with several speed loaders in certain pockets.
Walking down the hall to meet with the crew on deck, Dutch spies Johnny in the small Mess Hall in his usual outfit, dark black jeans and sneakers, dark purple dress shirt, with his signature shades on his face covering his eyes. . On the chair, the Captain of the ship sees an off-the-shelf Grave Digger shotgun, and his Kobra holstered on a shoulder strap. Johnny was staring down at the table with his hand on his chin, pondering. On the table were an aluminum baseball bat and a sledgehammer.
"Johnny, we're about to go. The hell are you doing?"
Dutch's voice broke him out of his thoughts. "Oh, hey Dutch. Give me your personal opinion. Which one I should go with for getting up close and personal?" The Saint asked picking up the bat, "Should I go with bat. Make some pop-flys to their heads with America's favorite pastimes…" Picking up the sledgehammer, "or should I go with the hammer. Would be easier to break some bone."
Dutch just raised his eyebrow. Here he was, the Saint who suggested cannonballing a torpedo midflight into an attack chopper, now asking him what blunt weapon to bring like it was a dress to the wedding. "Johnny, don't you your knives on you?"
Johnny just shrugged, "Yeah. But considering were gonna be fucking up some Neo-Nazi skinheads, I've gotta have some fun here."
Dutch gave a sigh of exasperation, "Just go with the hammer. We're gonna be in some tight corridors and the bat needs a pretty wide arc. The hammer has more control for the end of your swing."
Johnny, with a small grin had dropped the bat as he twirled the hammer in hand like a parasol, "Thanks for the advice. 'Sides, this'll give me a chance to reenact the battle of Stalingrad on their asses."
Dutch just walked off as Johnny went to holster his weapons on his person, "Crazy ass bastard."
Nazi Research Vessel (Neo-Nazi Overseas Base)
On the small dinghy of the Lagoon Co. were Johnny, Revy, and Dutch heading towards their target, the Neo-Nazi controlled research vessel.
"Alright you two, we're gonna enter stealthy but capture violently. Get the painting by any means necessary," Dutch informed them, his eyes on the ship coming up, "from the sound of things, these guys are celebrating their recent victory. Let's crash the party."
Johnny took the grappling hook they had, swinging it around for momentum before throwing it up a couple stories. Feeling it snag on to something the Saint gave it a quick tug. But the rope started to slacken into the water making Johnny and the others to look up.
They stared watching a body falling down towards them.
Their heads followed as it fell away from the dinghy until it fell with a splash.
Pulling back the rope, they see the body as one of the Neo-Nazi grunts with one of the hooks at the end of the rope gouged into the poor guy's mouth and through the back of his head.
"Jeez Gat, you have any other ways to kill a fucker?" Revy asked rhetorically.
Johnny ignored her, pulling the hook out of his latest victim and he threw it back up once again, this time hooking it onto the corner of a railing and a pole. Climbing up the rope the three raiders hopped on the boat pulling out their weapons of choice. In Johnny's case, the sledgehammer he slid under his belt climbing up.
The night was quiet as a Neo-Nazi Private patrolled the lower deck, flashlight in hand. On the corner in his eye in the moonlight the Private saw something on the railing. Dashing closer to the tool, he looks down and spots the dinghy floating below the rope.
"INTRU-"
*BLAM!*
Revy's Cutlass pistol rang in the air as the bullet exploded from the Private's forehead.
The heavy march of boots sounded from above, scrambling trying to find the sure sign of intruders.
Dutch cocked his shotgun giving out his orders, "I'll take the upper deck, and you two start shit around here."
Johnny gave a grin, "Gonna have a good night," Pulling his hammer to his hand, carrying it by the neck to the weight of the hammer as he ran to down the rear of the ship.
"Gotcha," Revy confirmed as she hugged the doorway frame to her back, garnering a dark look to her features, "I'll be sure to give them an extra dose of lead in their diet."
Another Private stumbles their way around out prompting her to unload a round into his head. Behind him was another grunt who gasped in shock as Revy rounded in as she used her other gun to pop a few bullets into his chest. Down the corridor, she aimed both her firearms, unloading both her firearms, killing a good half-dozen men in front of her. As the last few victims fell dead, her Cutlasses clicked empty as she unloaded and reloaded new clips.
Walking down to the intersection of the corridor, guns were heard cocking at her. On both sides, six men on each side, each one aiming semi-automatic rifles at her. Revy aimed one gun towards each side and unloaded once more before anyone had time to fire, not even bothering to take a glance at them. Anyone who was lucky enough to fire off a shot or two missed as the bullets whizzed by her, at worst nicking her clothes or make a scratch on her person from a bullet.
W/Johnny
Johnny made his way to the rear of the ship. Four Privates ran towards him, each with a rifle at hand. Johnny took out his Kobra, shooting them down with expert marksmanship; the leading man fell with a shot to the head, second caught a bullet to the throat, third and fourth to the leg and hip.
The one catching a bullet to the leg fell flat on his face. Using his arms to prop himself up, his face splattered to lacquered wood floor with the top of the hammerhead nailing him in the back of the head. The one with the hip wound flopped to his back, he saw only a mass purple and muscle as the hammer that killed his friend saw the falling flat end caving into his chest, puking blood before falling dead.
Johnny takes a deep breath, looking at the first kills of the night. Glancing to the left, he spies one of many entrances to the barracks of the ship.
"Let's take a look at door Number One," he mutters to himself.
W/ Dutch
Dutch was having his own sense of fun taking his SPAS-12, taking potshots at the guys trying to take formation. Five shots taking a total of six men shot dead. Reloading his shotgun, Dutch makes a call to Johnny.
"Johnny, you copy? Where are you?"
"I'm over in the other side of the barracks. 'Bout to give these fuckers a wake-up call." Comms paused until he heard an audible smash from Johnny's hammer until the booms of Johnny's shotgun echoed in his ear piece, the volume of Johnny's voice causing Dutch to wince, "ROOM SERVICE MUTHAFUCKAS!"
Couple seconds of silence went by as he cocked his shotgun, feeling his SPAS fully reloaded. "Yeah, I'm movin' to the next area. Give ya a call later."
"Glad to hear he's having fun," Dutch sighed. Tapping the earpiece again, Dutch called his other gunner, "Revy, what's going on your end?" Unfortunately, silent static was all he heard. "Revy! Where are you? REVY!"
W/ Revy
Revy's killing spree didn't stop as she kept walking down the long hallway, not even bother by the sticky blood on her boots trailing behind her with every step she makes. The dark look she's had since the ride over, her mind echoing Johnny's contradictions of her belief in this world, like the annoying ringing in the back of her mind.
The process was practically mechanical. She walked in a blind haze. If she found anybody, any breathing thing with a pulse, she shot.
No banter, no questions asked, bullets tearing into flesh without distinction.
Now a door stood in her way. No match for her heavy boots and leg muscles. A swift front kick swung the steel door with a slam, revealing the control room filled with operators. Strange thing about these operators, they didn't don the Neo-SS uniform the others wore, but Revy didn't care, her eyes were set to kill anything with a pulse. All of them were just looking at her in fear.
Pointing her Cutlasses at them increased the fear and panic already welling within them.
"Wait! Wait!" one of them pleaded, coming forward, "We aren't part of those idiots downstairs. They're just paying us to get them here and back."
"And that's supposed to mean anything to me?" Revy said in a grim monotone, "Skinhead or not, you're still here. In the end, shit like that doesn't matter when we're all just pigs in this world to be slaughtered."
*BLAM!*
The bullet exploded from the back of the man's head. As she inched forward to the rest with both pistols train on two pigs at once.
"Oink, oink"
W/Dutch
Outside Dutch walks into the communications room where he hears the familiar ringing of Revy's signature Cutlasses.
It didn't take long to get up there. He watched as Revy walked out, blood of non-important targets splashed onto her face.
"Revy, the fuck are you doing here? I said 'Start some shit' not kill everything."
The lifeless eyes didn't leave her, "What's wrong Dutchy? I'm just having fun. Bloody murder is just the thing that we do here."
"Business as usual, huh?" said Dutch, her passing form not leaving the reflection of his glasses. In one fell swoop, he grabbed her tank and slams her into the wall. "Listen here you trigger-happy piece of shit. We kill people for a living when we're assigned to do so is our job. Killing people because it suits you is shit that a fucking psychopath does."
Revy stared on into that reflective gaze of her boss' glasses as he continued to chew her out, "Just remember, you fuck up because you get pissed off or something, I'm the one that's gonna die. So either cool off or get the fuck outta here and start shooting up kids from a bell tower."
"Don't get all high and mighty on me Dutch," Revy growled at him.
"Don't you forget who signs your paycheck," Dutch retorted back at her.
Both stared each other down until they broke contact. Revy aimed her Cutlass on her right hand and started shooting down Neo-Nazi's trying to ambush them on her right. Dutch whipped out his revolver and fanned the hammer dropping down the ambusher's on his right.
The gunfire's echoes died down as both looked on their respective sides
Revy let out an exasperated sigh as her eyes went back to normal looking back with a deadpan expression at Dutch, "You know, for a second there, I actually thought you were gonna shoot me."
"Won't lie, thought you were too," Dutch replied, "You wanna talk about it?"
"Not now, we're still on clean-up detail. So what now?"
"Their numbers are thinned down. Now, we go after their commander."
W/ Johnny
Johnny roared with a shout, charging in with a Neo-Nazi's gut on the head of the hammer, turning the man's body into a make-shift umbrella soaking in oncoming bullets like a meat shield. Anyone he came in contact with were either pushed away or knocked down.
Coming to the end of the hallway, he crashed the body into the door, tossing the body onto an upturned table, effectively snapping his spine in half on the edge of the cheap furniture.
The sudden intrusion in the room surprised his meat-shield's comrades as they jumped in surprise. Johnny dropped his hammer before reaching his left hand behind him and pulling out his Grave Digger. The one in front of him stumbled to get his gun.
Long enough for Johnny to blast him, launching him back with nothing more than a splatter on the wall, then grabbing his Kobra with his right, pulling two well placed shots into their heads.
Another shout gained the Saint's attention as another Neo-Nazi grunt charged at him with a bayonet equipped rifle. The inexperienced grunt yelped in surprise with Johnny catching the charge by the barrel over the bayonet, catching the guy's throat with a quick snap of an elbow check, forcing him to relinquish it to Gat.
Turning it in his hand, Gat thrust the bayonet into the coughing solder's throat through his hands before pulling the trigger, leaving the poor bastard a huge hole in his neck. The lack of meat holding the weapon in place caused him to drop effortlessly to the ground.
"Twice I've killed someone through the throat, surprised I haven't made a deep throat joke," Johnny muttered to himself. Turning around he was welcomed to a low cry and the blurred sight of a sharp object aimed at his head.
Survival instinct kicks in with that raise of the bayoneted rifle, the underside of the barrel impacting with the shaft of a fire axe, the image of the axe blade reflecting off his shades.
"SUNOVABITCH!"
The axe pulled back allowing Johnny ample time to stab his assailant in a 90 degree swing. But the bayonet didn't pierce flesh and bone, but the thin material of drywall and cheap metal. Backing away, Johnny narrowly avoided the fire axe as it chopped through the rifle and stuck itself into the floor of the ship.
Reaching back, the Saint pulled out his trusty K-Bar with his left, slashing at his assailant's forearms. The sudden pain of the cut causing him to flinch away from the fire axe. The Neo-Nazi stepped back to try and get some distance from Johnny before pulling out his Walther from his back holster, the pistol now trained on the Saint.
But Johnny wasn't really paying attention to the fact the Walther was trained on him, rather, the face of his opponent. The bald Neo-Nazi that was leading the raid group down in that sub.
Rather than wait for him to train his aim on that Walther, Gat closes in the gap, slamming the guy's arm into the wall to make him drop the gun before pinning his palm in with his knife. Compared to the slash to the Raid Leader's arms, the pin would have to be the most painful experience of his life as he struggled to remove the knife, or at the very least, get his hand free.
"You know, I never really recognize too many people when I'm on a killing spree unless they're someone who got a good shot on me most of the time. You were part of the Volley Team in the back but I think I could recognize the leader of the pack after I throated one of your guys with my speargun."
He stopped his struggling and looked up at Johnny, seeing his own fearful expression through the reflection of Johnny's shades. All the confirmation that the Saint needed.
"You know, I'm usually not one for torturing, just killing. But I got a nice lady-friend that left me a nice little present before she left for home," Johnny told him as he pulled out the spiked-knuckle guarded combat knife Roberta left him, giving the blade some nice twirls between his fingers as the Raid Captain stared at it in fear.
Johnny only continued on with his story, "Now, I've only gotten a few nicks and cuts here and there, but none so memorable than this knife wielded by her. Can't really see it but that's because she went for the body shots. But the blade is just the finesse killer, only matched by its brutal conjoined twin here with the knuckle guard. When that bitch tried to take me out, I nearly got my head caved in by this thing, like so…" Johnny proceeded with a quick jab near the guy's head, only to yelp with pants-pissing fear.
Johnny, however, was mesmerized by his handiwork as he punched in the wall with a dent, the white dust of the drywall covering the spikes. The Saint cocked his arm back for another shot, this time at the whimpering Captain, "Whew! That is impressive, let's see how well it works on a human skull."
"THERE'S EXTRA CARGO IN THE HOLD!"
Johnny's fist stopped mere inches away from the Captain's face.
"What was that?" Johnny asked/demanded, intrigued.
"The boat is a research vessel," he reasoned, "When we commandeered this vessel to use, we took a few deep sea trips for treasures, artifacts for the Fatherland before we hit the submarine. I'll give you that in exchange for my life."
The Saint's eye rose in skepticism, "Really, you're gonna barter with me with shit you supposedly 'found' on your way here?"
The Captain nodded furiously in hopes this would be enough to let him live.
Oh he had to see where this was headed.
And thus began a 5 minute long tale of how in their trek sailing to this part of the Pacific, picking things up like paintings and golden pottery.
Though, not one word this guy was uttering told Johnny there was some inkling of truth. He just wondered how far this jackass was going to go here.
"How about this," Johnny interrupted, "I'll let you take whatever shit you guys picked up and get the fuck outta here on one of the few lifeboats that's on this heap. Just remember I didn't let you go out of pity or some bullshit, only that you're just so fucking pathetic trying to talk your way out of this with your life with that story."
The wet slide of the blade was heard as the guy dropped like a sack of potatoes, whimpering at the pain as the Saint walked away as he sheathed both his blades to their sheaths, his eye on the stuck fire axe.
All the while the whimpering man makes his way to the nearest closet and barges in, not bothering to be quiet as he grabs the biggest gun he could find. Grinning as he found and hefted an LMG, loading it and himself with as many bullets that he could carry.
Rushing out he slams into the wall before regaining his balance to aim at Johnny and a battle cry that was interrupted by a small whoosh in the wind. Time slowed for this man as he fired, not on his feet because he was fall, taking the mere seconds to realize that there was the fire axe jutting out of his chest. And another few seconds to realize he was still shooting as he fell. Rounds kept on shooting until the trail of bullets hit the armory and towards the box of grenades. Barely a gasp before he was engulfed in an explosion of flames.
In real time, Johnny heard all the commotion as he yanked the fire axe out of the floor. First sign of the barrel, Johnny reeled both his arms back and threw the axe across the hall as he fired his gun before the room he came from blew up and engulfing him in a fiery death.
"Well, that was a letdown."
Hitting up his radio for Dutch, "Yo Dutch, unless I missed anyone here, I think we're clear on the first floor."
W/ Revy and Dutch
"Alright, Revy took care of the second. We're on the third floor looking for the commander," said Dutch.
"Gotcha, meet you in a bit, just gotta get my stuff," said Johnny over the comms before cutting out.
"'Gotta get my stuff'," Two-Hands mocked, "Little obsessed much?"
"Says the girl who practically squealed over the underwater rifle," Dutch retorted.
Revy's eyes narrowed at the notion, "The hell is that supposed to mean?"
"I'm just saying you and Johnny have a lot more in common, especially when it comes to your toys," said Dutch, "Should've seen him when we were prepping."
Though Revy retained the darkened expression she had earlier. And Dutch took notice.
"Hey Revy, you alright. Or are you still as heated as you were back there?" her boss inquired.
"The hell is that supposed to mean?" Revy growled as they kept walking.
"You get Whitman's Fever whenever we get a new guy. Shit, Benny was your last trigger, but Johnny seems to turn this up to an eleven," Dutch explained, "Anything happen down there?"
"I thought we kept our noses out each others businesses. You know I'll get the job done and done right like always," Revy assured.
"You better. I'll be taking portside, you take starboard," Dutch left through the door leading portside.
Seeing her boss leave, she took a deep breath before sending a rage filled punch to the wall, Johnny's words back on the boat still ringing in her mind.
"You live on the goddamn idea that the world is only run by two things, guns and money."
Snippets of her memories flashed in her eyes, her with the smoking gun, standing over a body, head smothered in a bloody pillow. Her eyes empty as she stared at the corpse, the smell of burned gunpowder wafting towards her nostrils.
Back to reality, she was staring at a fist shaped indent she made at the wall.
"Goddamn it Gat."
The sound of splintering wood broke her concentration as she found a muscle bound Neo-Nazi bashing out in front of her from a barricaded door, grinning and laughing out loud "menacingly".
"So you're still alive little girl? My compliments on your audaciousness. The name I've carried proudly since birth is Fritz Standford, Acting Captain of the glorious Aryan Socialist Union," Greeted the hulking man before her.
Revy just rolled her eyes, 'Great, these types.'
"No need to introduce yourself, for YOU are the nefarious grave robber in this story."
Little ways away, Johnny climbed the stairway, trusty sledgehammer in hand as he whistled a tune while spinning the thing like a 10 lb. propeller. At least until he heard talking half a floor above him. Making his way up, the Saint opened the door quietly so as to not arouse attention.
And was soon introduced to the sight of some big guy staring down Revy as he pulled out this bronzed luger aimed at the female gunswoman.
"BEHOLD! Witness this mighty gun I wield!" Fritz announced, pointing AWAY from Two-Hands as he looked upon his gun in admiration, "I call it Eisern Reich Luger Special, it is clearly one of a kind."
The Acting Captain went on in a rant DESCRIBING all the ins and outs of his gun. Not even noticing Revy even paying attention to him, rather she was checking her guns and reloading and looking at Johnny silently WALKING right behind him with one of the ends of the hammerhead aimed right at the Aryan Socialist's head. The Saint looked at Revy for confirmation of attack
But Revy shook her head.
"The barrel is luger artillery long with the frame made of hardened carbon," Fritz continued on aiming his sights TOWARDS the window.
Johnny turned the hammer vertically, motioning an overhead smash towards the outstretched arm holding the luger. Though seeing him continuing his monologue, Revy shook her head. This was gonna be a pretty humiliating final moments for this guy.
"And the grip here is doubly wide for twin magazines able to fire a .454 Casull round to stop any man in his tracks."
Johnny arced down imitating a golf swing towards Fritz's legs as said man had finally started aiming at Revy.
"I'm the only one here that can wield this powerful gun," Fritz grinned.
Revy finished checking the chamber on her gun before looking towards Johnny with a nod, giving him the go ahead.
"Are you afraid?" Fritz cackled, "There's no way you're not! Now witness the awesome power of…"
*THWACK*
*CRACK*
"AAAHHHHHH!" Screamed Fritz as he fired in the air falling on his back, letting go of the luger. The pain in his leg and the shock seeing the lower half of his leg pointing towards him, the Aryan Socialist just kept screaming. At least until Revy gave a boot-heeled kick to the face, turning that pained screaming to a pained groan facing his sight towards Revy and Johnny who was finally within his peripheral vision.
"Shut the fuck up," Revy groaned, obviously tired of this guy's voice, "Seriously do you ever shut up? Obviously I wasn't listening. Hell, me and Johnny here were looking at each other wondering where to hit you while you were talking. I mean were you trying to sell me the damn gun or what?"
"I dunno Revy," Johnny piped up, lifting the sledge, keeping the head parallel with his fist. "I was wondering where he was gonna go with the price on that piece. Betcha it was an arm and a LEG!" said the Saint, slamming the hammer's head onto his forearm, bringing forth another cry of pain for another few moments until he was eye to barrel with Revy's Cutlass.
"Just so you know," Revy starts with a grin, "Any gun will do so long the bullet can hit your target."
*BLAM!*
Suddenly the top of Fritz's skull exploded, startling Revy as she pulled her trigger finger, sending the bullet into the Acting Captain's already dead corpse.
"Words to die by, huh?" Said Johnny holding the smoking gun of the Eiser Riech (E.R.) Luger in his hand.
"WHAT THE FUCK JOHNNY!?" Revy raged in Johnny's grinning face.
"Told ya Revy, I take shit from people I've killed. 'Sides, dumbass took like five minutes talking about the damn gun, thought I'd see how well it works," explained the Saint.
Revy just fumed, her mind deciding whether or not to shoot this grinning asshole in front of her. But she gave into deep breath instead, "C'mon, let's just get to Dutch. He's probably got the guy at gunpoint."
The walk didn't take long hearing what seemed to be the end of a conversation between Dutch and someone on the phone, slightly audible outside the only room that had somebody living on this ship.
"I look forward to the day I see your inferior race wiped off the face of the Earth." They heard over the speaker of the phone.
"And I hope you burn in Hell you Nazi bastard," They heard Dutch say when they rounded into the Commander's room, seeing him sitting on the Commander's desk as he ends the call with his shotgun. On the other side of the desk, was the Commander slumped in his chair with a defeated expression on his face.
Revy knocked on the door frame getting their Boss' attention, "Hey Dutch, you haven't finished up already?" Revy asked before her eyes spied the big guy on the leather chair, "Fat boy the Commander here?"
"Yeah," Dutch answered.
Then Revy got a sadistic grin on her face, "Hey Dutch, Johnny, how about a bet? The usual bet," she offered hanging one of her Cutlasses on her finger.
"Bet?" Johnny asked.
"Not really much of a bet," said Dutch.
"What 'bet'?" Johnny pressed.
"It's a simple one," Revy answered, tossing her gun towards the commander, "Red or Black?"
Finally catching on to the Craps innuendo, the color coding and the gun was pretty simple.
"I'm betting on Black," Revy said.
"It's no contest, I bet Black too," Dutch replied.
Both looked back to the Saint, "Fuck it, always bet on Black," Johnny shrugged.
The moment felt tense when they saw the Commander picked up the gun and pressed the barrel to his temple. The man was visibly sweating, gritting his teeth in seething anger.
"RAAAGH!" the Commander shouted as he turned the gun towards the three and pulling the trigger, only to be met with the sound of the gun dry firing with a few clicks.
"Told 'ya Revy, no contest," said Dutch while Revy cackled at the fat man.
"I would hope he'd have some balls and try and off himself," Revy replied trying to calm herself down, "But people like himself are all the same, willing to shoot their own mothers if it meant living just one more day."
"How about we just finish this shit up, shall we?" said Johnny while cocking his newly acquired E.R Luger back, pointing at the Commander.
Dutch and Revy did the same with his shotgun and her second Cutlass.
The now-shivering Commander watched as the three intruders pointed their guns at him.
"Sieg Heil motherfucker," said Johnny before all three shot him down into his chair.
The three walked out of the cabins of the newly made ghost ship with Johnny carrying the painting in hand. Dutch offered the flare gun to Johnny to call Benny and the boat over. Revy and Dutch watched the flare fly into the night sky.
Revy watch the Saint as he pocketed the gun and leaned on the railing. Dutch noticed with a keen eye as they both lit up a cigarette for themselves as silence enveloped the entire boat.
Dutch couldn't help but notice Revy staring at the Saint. So, he decided to break the silence, "This job had too many close calls, too many variables in and out."
"Fuck off Dutch," Revy replied almost robotically.
You don't have to say anything Revy, but I do have the right to worry."
Revy shook her head, "I won't cause any more trouble, but I can't shake this feeling off."
"I can tell you got some issues right now, you let off steam whenever you got something going on in your head," Dutch analyzed walking off.
"Dutch," Revy called out a little uncomfortably.
Dutch stopped in his tracks, waiting for his main gunner to keep going. There was a slight hesitation, "I…I know Johnny's apart of this lifestyle, but there is something about him that I can't imagine. He was playing psychoanalyst with me down in that sub, even called me out on a few things."
"Certain things in your past?" Dutch questioned, but just sighed, "Personally, I thought at some point you two would've found some common ground between you two."
Revy shook her head, "He's so similar yet so different. I can't help but feel things will change if he stays in Roaranapor."
"Yeah, I got feeling too," said Dutch.
Cross177 here enjoying the last days of my Winter Break to give you this new chapter. Won't guarantee you the new update is coming as fast as this one did, but I try my damndest for both quality and effort. Me working and going to school does take priority over my fanfiction hobbies, saying "Update Faster" does not make me update faster. You guys enjoy the last days of your Winter Break like I am.
See you guys next time on Cross Time
-Cross177
