Revy barrelled down the street to the gun range in the car she'd borrowed without asking Rock. She was furious with herself.
"Fuck!" she screamed, as she sped around a corner. "I'm from New York. I had a shit childhood. Now, I'm here, and I'm hunky-dory!" she said, rehearsing what she knew for a fact she should have told him. "Fuuuuuuuuck!" she screamed again more loudly, as she forced a couple pedestrians to jump out of her way.
Why had she told him? She could've invented any one of a million different loads of bullshit to feed him. He'd have never known the difference. Or she could've been vague enough not to have to relive that entire fucking night.
She would rather have chewed one of her own bullets than admit it, but she was scared. She was afraid that things between her and Rock would change after this. From this moment on, Rock might look at her in one of two ways. First, he could see her as damaged goods. Tainted meat. There was something dirty deep inside her that she would never get rid of. No matter how deeply she washed or many she killed, she had lost something forever on the cold, concrete floor of that cell that she could never get back, and now Rock knew what it was.
Besides that, he could see her as an object of pity. A perpetual victim of a man she'd been powerless to stop.
Powerless. Yes- that was the word to describe what she'd been. Pathetic, weak, small, worthless. Easily dominated by a more powerful man. She'd threatened the cop with death as a last ditch effort to keep him out. But the threat of an unarmed fourteen year old had protected her as much as her two tiny shackled hands, and he'd forced himself into her by brute force. Then, she'd gone limp. She hadn't made a sound nor movement to stop him. She hadn't wanted it, but she hadn't stopped it. It had hurt. She'd bled for hours afterward. She'd limped out of that cell like a cripple. Other cops had smirked at her as she passed. They took joy in her humiliation and pain. But however much pain she had felt, she hadn't forced him to kill her and take only her sad, tiny corpse as his prize.
And that was her fault, no matter what Rock said.
"Fuck," she said again. "I wanted to forget all that shit."
She felt the tears welling up in her eyes again. Her chest tightened and her breathing became ragged. She found a deserted street and pulled over for a few minutes, so she could kick, scream, and punch the car until she didn't feel like crying anymore. Then, she lit a cigarette, restarted the engine and kept driving.
She missed the old Roanapur. She missed the days when she could down a handful of yellow pills, butcher a warehouse of Colombians, chug a protein shake, and crawl into bed. Shots were always more satisfying when they shattered human skulls. Each new corpse to her name was a new testament to her power. A power that every low-life scumbag in that rathole city knew and feared. Now, thanks to Rock, all she had were clay pigeons, and memories she didn't want anymore.
She pulled into Chang's secret gun range and parked the car just off the unmarked dirt road. Even though she was no longer part of the Triads, Chang had given her permission to use it at will. A gift for all the lives she'd taken in his name.
She loaded up her favorite area and pressed four buttons at random with her foot. Four clay pigeons took to the air, and in milliseconds, she reduced them to rubble. She frowned. It wasn't the same, but it would do. She continued with her practice.
Boss Chang had had a rough morning. He'd woken up at his standard hour to discover several pieces of very bad news waiting for him. The first was an inquiry from Hong Kong about the possibility of assassinating Rock. He had to have several long calls explaining, for the second time since the end of the war, that this was a very bad idea. The money paid to Rock's firm was a worthwhile investment. It meant a more peaceful and prosperous city, which in turn meant a bigger take and fewer dead Triads. But all the old men in Hong Kong saw was an extra expenditure and liability on the books, so they peppered him with the same questions as before. Could it be done? Could they seize control of the city? Could they win the resulting war with Hotel Moscow? Chang rolled his eyes as he hung up the phone for the third time. As if any of them had any idea what the last war had nearly cost.
The second piece of bad news was about the Italians selling drugs to tourists outside the fairgrounds. This was in violation of a citywide prohibition on doing just that. Chang put in a call to the police chief to take care of it. Saensak might be as corrupt as Watsup, but he knew which laws to enforce and when. In the old days, Chang might have dispatched his own boys to take care of it, but Rock's work with the City Police had made that particular risk unnecessary.
The third piece of bad news was a coded message from Balalaika that she wouldn't be available for lunch that afternoon. That last one hit Chang the hardest. Maybe it was just a product of age, but his improved relationship with Balalaika was by far the best thing to come from Rock's little power grab. They were able to meet every week on average and could normally skip the business preamble when they did. They often fell asleep together now, not out of exhaustion, but enjoyment. The king size bed he'd provided Mrs. Sabai was proving an excellent investment. Often, they could even have breakfast together the next day. They may still be rivals, but the fact they weren't trying to kill each other to seize control of the city meant they had more time to spend together. The blinis were always delicious.
He sighed deeply as he slumped in his chair, wishing he had her to look forward to. Each of these issues, he knew, was due to the recent attempt on Rock's life. Hong Kong smelled the chance to eliminate an expenditure. The Italians were pressing what they stupidly saw as an opportunity. And Balalaika was holed up in her fortress against any possible attack. Both Chang and she knew by now that much of the available evidence pointed to her as being responsible for the recent attempts on Rock's life. While he didn't believe it, she still had to take precautions.
So, when one of his men called to tell him that his former protege, Two Hands, was practicing at his private range, he decided to take a break from his normal habits and use his newly freed afternoon to see her. Besides, if he played his cards right, he might just get some fresh intel.
His driver parked the sedan next to what Chang knew had to be Rock's car, but he saw only Revy practicing on the range. He knew that Rock was no gunman, but around the city it was rare for them to be apart. Intrigued, he shifted his cigarette from one corner of his mouth to the other and stepped out towards her alone. No need for guards here. Apart from his personal driver, only a few Triads knew this location.
"Been awhile, Two Hands," he greeted her as he approached.
"Hmm," Revy held up one of the hands still gripping her gun and extended all her fingers except the thumb in salute. "What's up, bossman?"
"No need for such formality, Miss Rebecca," Chang answered. "I'm not your boss anymore."
He drew up in the area next to her and pressed a few buttons on the ground with his foot. Multiple grey pigeons took flight. He drew both his guns with his customary grace, and the back of his overcoat and scarf flew behind him like a cape. He hit nearly all of them, but when he aimed at the last one, the glare reflected off his gun at just the right angle that his vision was temporarily obscured. Revy didn't dare snort at him when she saw his shot miss, but she smiled to herself.
"You ain't gettin' slow on me, are ya old timer?" she teased.
Chang smirked.
"Eh, I'm old," he admitted, shrugging. "Not too old for a friendly competition though. You game?"
Revy cracked a huge grin. She suddenly remembered fondly the days when Chang had first taught her to dual-wield her pistols on this range. Several times she had observed that his abilities with a gun were superior to hers. The chance to match her skills against his was exciting.
"Fuck, yeah!" she laughed as she summoned more targets.
Jokes aside, after about twenty minutes, she could tell that Chang was showing his age. He didn't miss many, but even one in a hundred would have been unthinkable for the Heavenly Emperor two years ago. Now, Revy estimated he lost about one in fifty.
Chang noticed too. He made a mental note to come to the range more often to touch up his skills. Even today, he couldn't afford to go soft. In the meantime, he wondered if he might use Revy's confidence to his advantage.
"By the way, Two Hands," he mentioned as they reloaded. "Couldn't help but notice there's only one of you here."
Revy's face became a mask of detached boredom as she took her next shot. She had no intention of telling Chang anything of what had transpired between her and Rock within the past two hours, but she was reminded of her emotional garbage.
"Pfff. It's not like he could hit anything anyway," she retorted as she took her next shot.
Chang immediately noticed the change. He deduced that she knew he was talking about Rock. He also guessed that the shift in expression may signal something interesting. She was trying to play his absence off as inconsequential. This was worth pursuing.
"And how is my favorite negotiator doing?" he asked.
She looked at him darkly. He was trying to sound conversational, but in Roanapur questions like that always had a darker motive. She could tell she was being interrogated.
"He got hit five times at close range with your girlfriend's gun of choice," she said. "How do ya' think?"
Chang noticed her crack about Balalaika. On the one hand, he didn't appreciate it. However, her deflection and lack of answer was interesting. Something must have upset her to speak to him so bluntly. It could be about Rock's condition, but it could also signal something more useful.
He shrugged.
"Having taken a few of those slugs myself, I can't imagine him running marathons," he joked. "Playing cards with you though…" he added pointedly.
Revy kept her eyes glued on her targets. Chang took another few shots as well. So they were fighting. Revy would never kill Rock; of that Chang was certain. And she wasn't his bodyguard anymore, so his security wasn't compromised by her absence. Still, Chang couldn't help but be curious. They almost never fought. It wasn't in Rock's nature. She could get angry, lord knew, but he could almost always talk her down. Something must have happened.
"What are you? My boss?" she finally asked. "I can do what I want."
Chang smirked.
"That goes without saying."
They took a few more rounds without exchanging words. Then Revy piped up.
"How's ol' Fry Face these days?"
Chang took note of the change of subject. He decided to give her a few things to regain her trust.
"Holed up in her fortress. It's nice to have a break, if ya catch my drift."
She smirked.
"And ya didn't run right to her side? You ain't that old."
Chang shrugged.
"Eh, Work keeps me busy."
"Uh-huh."
Chang noted the sarcasm in her voice.
"Hey. If I could just stroll into Hotel Moscow and kidnap her for a week, I would. But things are just not that simple."
Revy sighed and her shoulders fell. She had never entirely gotten over the fact that, once upon a time, she had put on cheap lace for this man in a desperate attempt to get him to keep her, only to be rejected and dumped on Dutch's doorstep like an unwanted pet. Later, she had had to watch when, after desperately fighting Hotel Moscow for weeks, Chang had shown more affection for Balalaika than he ever had for her. Time had dulled that wound, but it would never go away entirely. Hearing him profess his attraction to her still stung.
She took another shot and was shocked to see the still intact pigeon sail away out of range.
"Maybe getting older yourself," Chang teased.
Revy scowled, pressed another button, and reduced another pigeon to dust. She sighed in muted satisfaction.
They paused for a moment to smoke. Chang offered her a light, which she accepted. Revy took a breath and let them lapse into silence.
"Know who did it?" Chang asked.
She shook her head.
"Nope. Rock and Benny'r tryin' to figure that out."
Chang decided to throw caution to the winds.
"They think it's her?"
She glared at him again.
"Ask 'em yourself."
Chang saw that this was going nowhere. He decided to give it another ten minutes to see if she would reveal anything on her own. In the meantime, he lined up another shot.
"Let me ask you somethin' now, boss," she said after he hit a few targets.
Chang paused with his arm extended, looking at her.
"What's your endgame with her?"
Chang thought about this for a moment. There was a sharp difference between the truth and what he could tell her. The truth was that, given the choice, he'd retire from his position as head of the Triad and move somewhere warm with the woman he loved.
He wasn't getting any younger, his performance at the range today was just another reminder of that. He might retrain and get back some of his old speed, but he knew he couldn't fight the reaper forever. He had come to cherish the time he could spend with Balalaika and wanted to spend more. Given the choice he'd move with her to some tropical island and drink with her on the beach. They'd stay there, not for a week, but until he closed his eyes for the last time and she told him that she loved him before he took the long sleep. Sadly, in their world, such things were barely worth dreaming of. The very fact that Hong Kong was asking about another war with Hotel Moscow was proof of that.
He lowered his arm, extracted his cigarette from his mouth, and blew out a cloud of cancerous smoke.
"Well," he said, "I was thinking of kidnapping her for two weeks. Whaddaya think?"
Revy frowned.
"Be my guest, Casanova," she retorted. "Try not to get shot."
He chuckled, but he noted the dark undertone of her words. If she was trying to force any kind of wedge between him and the woman he loved, he would cut this at best mediocre conversation short real quick.
He missed Balalaika. He missed the way she tossed back her hair when she put on that over-large military overcoat. He missed the way she slept on her left side so as not to irritate the chemical scars that covered her right. He missed the way she flirted with him. He missed her capacity to care for and respect other human beings, which was a quality his current company sorely lacked so far as he could tell.
"Gotta say," he continued, "we don't normally discuss personal plans."
Revy threw up her hands, still holding her guns.
"Hey! You're askin' 'bout mine so I ask about yours," she protested.
Chang supposed he couldn't argue with that. Maybe she'd learned a few things from Rock. So he replaced his cigarette in his mouth and took another shot. The pigeon exploded into dust.
Revy watched him for a while. She knew that she shouldn't push him far, but her conversation with Rock was still on her mind. She had few other relationships she could reference. If Balalaika had told Chang similar things as Revy had told Rock not long ago, maybe they still had a chance. It seemed worth a try.
"Hey, boss," she said. "Let me ask you something else. Has she talked to you much about… her past?"
Chang was getting annoyed now.
"Don't get cocky, Two Hands," he warned.
Revy rounded on him.
"You're the one who said falling in love's the fastest way to get yourself killed," she protested.
Chang lowered his gun and turned to face her. This was too far.
"Are you seriously going to keep bringing that up?" he sounded bored. "I'd just found you in my bedroom in about a mile of red lace. I didn't want you then, and I don't now. You know who does?" He pointed his gun roughly in the direction of Rock's building. "Him. And if I were you, I'd count myself lucky."
Revy seethed with rage, but Chang refused to feel bad about it. He didn't have to justify his romantic choices to anyone, least of all a street kid he'd elevated to gunslinger.
Just then, he heard a car accelerating towards them from behind him, and Revy's face changed from anger to fear.
"Down!" she yelled as she lunged toward him.
Throwing all of her weight forward she managed to get both of them out of the way just in time. Chang fell back onto the ground with Revy on top of him. A split second later a massive black SUV barreled through the exact spot where they had been standing. The vehicle stopped only a few feet away and they heard the doors open.
With the reflexes born of a master Chang raised his pistols and fired on their two closest assailants. He watched as the two masked men who'd emerged from the drivers' side of the vehicle went down before they'd even raised their assault rifles. Revy rolled off Chang and began firing at their attackers feet below the car. She heard a cry of pain when one of her bullets found its mark. Another masked asshole fell to the ground and she immediately pumped him full of lead under the car.
The last guy tried to flee. He switched from the passenger side to the driver's seat in an attempt to drive away. One headshot from Revy put an end to that plan.
They stood up, but at that moment they heard two other SUVs pull up and they quickly jumped behind the first for cover.
The other SUVs parked at the edge of the firing range, and several men wearing body armor and ski masks began firing their AK-47s from the open windows and sunroofs.
The killer in her that had been training since childhood roared with glee. Acting purely on instinct, Revy fired multiple shots at one of their attackers from behind her cover. Gleeful after seeing him drop, she dropped down before a fresh wave of bullets peppered her position.
Chang saw his opening. Turning with the grace and speed of the Heavenly Emperor, he emptied both of his clips in their direction. He didn't succeed in killing any, but he managed to injure one of them in his unprotected shoulder and get some of the others to duck back inside to avoid his fire. Then, he ducked down to reload.
It was the Roanapur Revy knew and loved all over again. She laughed as they continued firing a hailstorm of bullets on each other for a few more minutes. Then, several of them lobbed grenades, but they didn't do so simultaneously. Neither Chang nor Revy had any trouble dropping one of their guns and tossing them back. Multiple loud bangs announced that the weapons had gone off. Then, a gigantic explosion ripped through the day, and they felt the heat of a fireball.
Revy peeked out from behind her cover. Apparently, the grenades they'd tossed back had hit a fuel tank. The luckless SUV had exploded in a massive fireball. Flames engulfed it, and were consuming the other vehicle. The few of their assailants they could see still moving were shrieking in pain as they danced in the fire.
Revy seized the opportunity with both of her guns. She ran towards her burning enemies and dispatched them all with expert headshots.
"Fuck yeah!" she screamed while doing this.
"Stop shooting!" Chang barked.
Revy looked back at him.
"We want prisoners!" he roared.
She spat angrily but held her fire. She didn't like taking his orders again. Chang cautiously scanned the scene.
The two SUVs were burning on the edge of the range. The explosion had been large enough that it had taken out most of their attackers, and Revy appeared to have taken the rest. Chang sighed. With live prisoners they might have been able to identify their boss, but that would be much harder now. He whipped out his cell phone.
"Hang tight a minute, Two Hands."
Revy made a face and pulled out a cigarette. It was an odd moment for her. She and her old mentor had been briefly united against a common enemy and had fought together for the first time in years. That said, she really didn't want to continue their conversation from before.
She holstered her guns, strode back to Chang, lit up a smoke, and leaned against the SUV to wait. However, after five minutes of listening to him speak in Cantonese she became bored. When she heard him call Balalaika, the last remaining fuck she had to give went up in smoke. She marched to her car, past the Triad guards then streaming towards their leader, and drove away.