Chapter 11: Warlord's Dream

Balalaika arrived at Lagoon's apartment early that morning, with Boris in tow as usual. It was the first time she had been seen out and about for over a week. Dutch suspected she was taking time to herself behind closed doors after the death of the troublesome Fritz, but he did not pry. His interest was solely placed in the phone call he had received the day before, arranging this meeting so that Lagoon Company could hear the job offer that Hotel Moscow had for them. They were getting back to business, and there was a matter that required the attention of Lagoon. Hotel Moscow's leader removed the military jacket draped around her shoulders and handed it to Boris before taking a seat across from Dutch. Revy was sitting on the table in the corner, her feet resting on one of the chairs, and Rock stood by the fridge in the kitchen, fiddling with the top of a beer can. After he arrived home that night with a broken nose soon after Revy, Dutch had put two and two together. His concerns surrounding the growing dysfunctionality of Revy and Rock's relationship were mounting, but he did not interfere for the moment. He would watch them closely over the coming weeks. The last thing he needed was for their companionship to break down like it had several times before. He returned his attention to the meeting at hand.

"Balalaika," he greeted the leader of Hotel Moscow. "Good to see you. Get you anything?"

"Water would be fine," she replied.

"You got it. Benny?" Lagoon's tech wizard set down his magazine and fetched a glass of water for Balalaika, placing it on the table before her.

"Much obliged."

"Things have been pretty unrestful for you lately. Everything is settled now, I take it?"

"Indeed," Balalaika answered him. "We can finally get back to business, thanks to Two-Hands. Speaking of…" Remembering the circumstances of Fritz's death, she reached into her jacket and produced a thick brown envelope, tossing it across the room. Revy caught it in her hand, feeling the weight of it.

"How much was that freak biting the dust worth to ya?"

"Twenty thousand," Balalaika informed her. Small money in the grand scheme of things, but satisfactory considering the short time the German man had been on the loose. Revy nodded, happy with the compensation.

"Appreciate it," she said simply.

"Now, down to business," Balalaika said, returning her gaze to Dutch once more. "I need a favour, Dutch."

"A favour," Dutch asked, "or a job?" Balalaika grinned.

"You'll be paid in full, have no doubt," she assured the room as they all became both intrigued and deflated at the idea that they were being roped into doing Hotel Moscow's dirty work without the prospect of payment to motivate them. "The situation in Hong Kong has come to a standstill. Most of the remaining Dead Men have been wiped out. They didn't put up that much of a fight after all. But another situation has arisen. Some of the former gangs that would have been subservient to Hunter Woods have since come together in a sort of uprising. I believe Chang had a run in with some of them recently."

"That's right," Revy confirmed. "They sent a bunch of assholes to take him out, but he had some crazy bitch with metal claws protecting him. They didn't stand a chance."

"Indeed," Balalaika agreed. "In any case, they've started a revolt of sorts and both the Triad and Hotel Moscow are being targeted. We've managed to broker negotiations for now. If successful, the fighting will come to a swift and painless end. That's where you come in."

"You want us to smuggle some of your people over?" Dutch asked, not quite sure where this was leading.

"Not exactly. I want Rock to head the negotiations with the leaders of these gangs." Rock came to attention a bit unenthusiastically at the mention of his name.

"You want me to convince them to sue for peace?" Rock asked.

"Precisely," Balalaika agreed. "We'll have a meeting set up with two of the highest ranking members of this new alliance between Hong Kong's gangs. We need you to meet with them and do whatever it is you do so well. All going well, the gangs will submit and my people can come home."

"And what happens to the gangs?" Dutch asked out of curiosity. He did not much care in the end, and he would accept almost any job as long as it paid well enough.

"Most of them will be absorbed into the Triad or exiled from the city altogether. I'm willing to let the surviving members of the Dead Men continue to exist so long as they act as informants in the city on behalf of Hotel Moscow. Should they disagree to these terms, the deal is off and the fighting will commence."

"That won't be easy," Rock said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Nothing ever is, Rock," Balalaika told him matter-of-factly. "But if there's one thing you've proven yourself to be it's an unrivalled manipulator. I have the utmost faith that you'll get the job done. With the consent of your employer, that is." She looked to Dutch once more for his input.

"You have yourself a deal," Dutch told her. "As long as you follow through with the payment, that is."

"I always do, Dutch," she said, feigning offense. "And Two-Hands? Can I count on you to accompany us in case things take a turn for the worse?"

Revy looked up from the ground and regarded Rock in his seat. The Japanese man was deliberately avoiding making eye contact with her, it seemed. She remembered what had happened the other night, how he had mercilessly torn her to shreds and gotten his nose broken as a result. Then, her mind went to older memories, flashes of Rock's selfishness and insolence forcing Revy to step in and save him while putting her own life on the line. She was weary, and could not keep this up for much longer. But he was her partner, and she would fulfil her obligation to protect him. For now.

"Sure thing, Sis," she said blithely. "Wouldn't miss it for the world." Balalaika decided to ignore the sarcasm of that last part.

"Splendid," she said, satisfied. "You'll have plenty of time to prepare. The meeting's not set to take place for another nine days. When the time comes, I'll call on you."

"No problem," Dutch told her. "I'm sure we could do with the down time. All of us." He did not take his eyes from Hotel Moscow's leader, but both Rock and Revy looked up when he said that. They could not help but feel a bit singled out by his remark.

"I'm sure," Balalaika replied, winking at him. The implication was far from lost on her. "Oh, there is one more thing. Mister Chang has an assassination contract on one of the more troublesome of these gang members in Hong Kong. Supposedly, this person has been lighting fires beneath the Triad's operations for the better part of a month and the Triad's leaders want him found and eliminated. Chang would like you to extend the contract to the Wolf when you see him." An odd request, to be certain.

"Sure," Dutch conceded. "Who's the guy?"

"No names as of yet, but Chang will call ahead when you are all in the city to give Wolf the details." That was stranger still. It was unusual enough to hire a hitman with no details to offer on their target, but even more so to request the assassin go to the location and prepare for the kill before receiving any further direction. Lagoon Company did not question it. They would have their own work to do on behalf of Hotel Moscow.

"We'll wait for your call, then," Dutch said politely.

"Perfect," Balalaika responded. She rose from her seat and retrieved her jacket from Boris, draping it over her shoulders again as she went to leave.

(*)

The room was dimly lit, but Rahul could see the faces of his people clearly as they all stood below and watched him intently. With his close friend, Augustus Kells, out of the city, Rahul had given into impulse and done something he probably shouldn't have. He had chosen this room for them to meet in so they would not be found. It was located at the back of a slaughterhouse, in a small area where meat was processed and shipped out to other destinations. Rahul stood upon an elevated platform in front of a closed shutter where presumably lorries and trucks would reverse in and be loaded up with meat. He balled his hands into fists and poised himself for what he was about to do.

"Brothers," he addressed the room, "sisters and friends. Too long have I sat idly by while our people suffered. Too long has someone else made my decisions for me. No longer." He reached into his navy suit jacket and produced the Walther PP handgun that had been locked away for so long. It was beautiful, white in colour with a black grip and several black oriental designs across its surface. He held it up into the air. "Hunter Woods is dead! He can control you no more. And now, we have foreign invaders on our doorstep and they want to back us all into a corner because of who we are. They would label us Dead Men still, but we are free from that life, now! And we deserve to live in peace in our own city! What do we do when an enemy threatens our own?"

"We fight!" one of the women said loudly.

"We fight!" Rahul mimicked her. "Our enemy will not stop until we are dead and their name is Hotel Moscow. Will you roll over and submit to these Russian dogs? Or will you help me fend them off so we can take the city as our own?!"

"What about the Triad?" a man asked naively. "We could go to them for help."

"Don't be a fool!" Rahul berated him. "The Triad and Mister Woods had a precarious balance of power for a long time, but that balance is gone. If these Russians don't come for us, he Triad will move into old Dead Men territory while we fumble around in the dark, divided. Unless…we unite under my leadership."

The people in the room all exchanged looks with one another, not sure what to make of this revelation. They were all members of gangs that had one time opposed one another, and then either fled or been absorbed by the Dead Men when Hunter came to the city. Now, they had an unsteady alliance, but there was no true leadership there. Rahul, it seemed, sought to swoop in and fill that void.

"We didn't come here to swear loyalty to you," another man said from the back. "We came here so we could come up with a plan. Our people are dying out there!"

"There was a time when you all followed my commands!" Rahul reminded them. "Before Hunter Woods stripped my power away, the Matsumoto name was the one that commanded respect. The time has come for that again, my friends. With me as your leader, we will destroy these invaders that have come to test us. But we will not submit to them. We will never submit to anyone again."

He was winning the room, now. They all knew that he had been the top dog in Hong Kong for a long time, and the memories of submission and servitude under Hunter Woods were still fresh in their minds. Under the current circumstances, they were being beaten, and the last thing they wanted was to be wiped out by foreign invaders.

"You will have the guns of the Liu family," a woman piped up.

"The Chen Dynastic Order will stand by you as well," another man added. The rest continued until all of the prominent gangs still remaining in the city had pledged allegiance to Rahul Matsumoto. The once placid man had become power-hungry with the opportunity to take control of the families that used to bow to him and his bloodlust rose by the day with the threat of occupation and annihilation. His peaceful home life would take a back seat as he lead his people to war.

"We will take the fight to them!" Rahul roared triumphantly. "And these foreign dogs will rue the day they trifled with our mighty alliance!"