Worth Fighting For

by Gronk311

This is a Black Lagoon Fan Fiction. It takes place in an Alternate Universe, after the events of the Anime. Rock spent time in the JSDF prior to his job at Asahi Heavy Industries. The events of the anime play out as normal. I do not own Black Lagoon or make any profit from this work. Rated M for Language, Violence, and later Lemons This is my first published work. I hope you enjoy.

Worth Fighting For

This is a Black Lagoon Fan Fiction. It takes place in an Alternate Universe, after the events of the Anime. Rock spent time in the JSDF prior to his job at Asahi Heavy Industries. The events of the anime play out as normal. I do not own Black Lagoon or make any profit from this work.

The past

Fort Irwin, CA, USA. The National Training Center.

As the sun set over the mountains, Corporal Okajima, Rokuro (Rock) leaned back against the front slope of the American M1A1 Abrams tank talking to its gunner, Sergeant Groenke (Gronk). The two had just finished their evening meal, the first "hot" meal that either had eaten in the last week. Ever since the battle simulation had started, the fighting had been brutal. Even reinforced by the 72nd Armored Squadron from the Japanese Ground Defense Force's 7th Armored Division, the First Brigade, First Infantry Division (US) had taken heavy losses. So heavy, in fact that Okajima's Type 90 tank had been folded into third platoon, Bravo company, 1/34th Armored regiment, as only a handful of JSDF tanks were still in play.

"Can I ask you something, Corporal?" asked the American.

"Of course, Sergeant."

"Why did you join the Army, or SDF, or whatever you call it?"

"I failed my college entrance exams. As soon as I did, my family began treating me different. My mother pitied me, my father could not mask his disappointment, and my brother became the world's biggest prat, always bragging about how much fun he was having at collage. After two and a half months, I couldn't take any more. So, I signed up."

"A runner, I see."

"Pardon?"

"Sorry, it's just my way of grouping people's reasons for joining. As I see it, there are four main reasons someone will join up: they are running from something, they want adventure, they want education, or they are patriotic."

"Which one are you, Sergeant?"

"Mostly adventure, with a healthy bit of patriotism." Thomas took a long drag on his cigarette. "The way I see it, you need a solid reason to first put on your uniform."

"You mean a reason to fight?"

"Not exactly. There are millions of reasons to fight. I mean you need to have a solid grasp on what is worth fighting for. Everyone's different, but that is the difference between who I want on my crew and who I would kick out of my foxhole." Turning back to the colorful sunset, he continued, "I joined for the adventure, but I changed pretty quickly after that mess in the desert. Why do I fight? Because I follow my orders. But I am not fighting for those orders, I am fighting for my crew and the others in my unit. My brothers in arms, if you will."

Corporal Okajima watched as the sunset faded into early night. The short conversation had raised some troubling doubts about his suitability as a soldier. His plan to leave the service and go to college full time was suddenly looking even better. With his hard work in the remote education courses he had taken, he would only be about six months behind where he would have been if he had passed his exams. Then he could move into a stable businessman's life. Find a wife, get married, have kids. A simple, stable, life. And if I never have to pick up a gun again, it will be too soon.

Seven Years Later

Rock watched the woman scream and squirm as he tried to hold her legs still. Revy had been shot in the outer thigh, and Dutch was having trouble getting all the pieces out. While he worked, Revy was focusing her ire on the one she held responsible.

"Rock, you useless mother fucker! How many times am I going to have to save your ass?! I don't care about your candy-assed morals, but could you at least learn how to DUCK!" at this point she was interrupted by her own scream as Dutch removed another bullet fragment. "Jesus," she gasped, "Every time you freeze like that, you put us all in danger. Do I need to crack your skull open for that to get through?"

Rock knew she was right. This was supposed to be a simple delivery, but the receivers decided to try to kill them instead of paying them. So, basically a routine job. But he had frozen, and Revy had needed to cross most of the shooter's fire to knock him into cover. As she did, a ricochet had clipped her leg. It didn't do that much damage, but it left a lot of pieces in her muscle.

And now Rock watched Revy get sewn up again. Every twitch, gasp, and scream were daggers to his heart. It had been two years since the Lagoon Company (specifically Revy) had kidnapped him, then offered him a job. In all that time, he had chosen to stick to the pacifism he had chosen the day he left the JSDF. He had seen people killed, had seen his friends get hurt, he even witnessed Youko's suicide, but for some reason, this relatively minor wound was different. Rock didn't know why, but it was. As soon as Dutch was done digging, he left the main cabin and went topside and found a spot in the stern watching the sun fall behind some islands. For the first time in years, he recalled his conversations with the American Sargent as they watched a similar sunset all those years ago. "I finally get it," he said out loud to himself.

"Get what?" asked Revy as she limped up behind him holding a couple cans of beer.

Rock looked over his shoulder as Revy leaned against the aft deckhouse of Dutch's renovated Elco type PT Boat. Reaching for the beer she held out for him, he answered obliquely, "A long time ago I had a philosophical discussion with an American. When I explained my dislike of violence, he countered with 'That sounds good and all, but it only works if everyone agrees with you. That won't happen.'"

"Sounds to me like your friend knew what he was talking about." Revy said.

"Yeah," replied Rock, before lapsing into a comfortable silence that lasted until they arrived home in Roanapur.

"Alright! To the Yellow Flag!" cheered Revy as soon as the boat was safely tied to its dock. A post job trip to the crew's favorite bar was a long-standing tradition. And usually resulted in several hangovers the next morning, and the occasional gunshot if someone made what Revy decided was too much noise.

"I'm going to pass. Have fun," said Rock as he turned toward the street that led toward the Lagoon Company's main office. His declaration stunned his coworkers. Since starting joining the group, he had never passed up a chance for a drinking contest with Revy.

"What the fuck, Rock!" yelled Revy, grabbing his arm. "Afraid I'll kick your ass again going shot-for-shot?"

"Sorry, Revy. But I've got too much on my mind to go out tonight," Rock explained in an almost subdued tone as he pulled his arm free.

"Ha! I knew that you pussy businessmen couldn't keep up with a real drinker," Revy said, trying to anger him into coming along. Something that usually worked, but apparently not tonight.

"Nice try, Revy," Rock called back as he walked off, leaving Revy stunned.

"So, we going, or what?" asked Benny as he made his way to his GTO.

At the Yellow Flag, Bao, the bartender/owner, was getting increasingly nervous. It wasn't the fact that Dutch and his crew had arrived about ninety minutes ago. They were good customers, and the drinking contests between Revy and Rock brought in enough sales that Bao was willing to overlook the fact that they had been responsible for having his bar shot up eighteen times, by Bao's count. But Rock was not there, and anyone who knew anything about Two-Hands knew he was the only one who had a chance of keeping her calm enough that she didn't snap and kill everyone in a twenty-mile radius. And making matters worse, Revy was sulking. Bao didn't know what had happened, but the last time she was in this kind of mood it had taken only one drunk idiot grabbing her ass before he needed sixty-thousand dollars' worth of repairs. Leave it to Revy to see a smoke grenade hanging from some poor shmucks belt during a gunfight. It took the fire brigade two hours to get the fire out. And Bao was not the only one who remembered that night. Over the past hour he had seen many of his regulars take three steps into the bar, see Revy hunched over the bar, and turn around and walk straight back out. Shit, even doing nothing, Two-hands was killing his business.

"Dutch, what's got Revy in a mood?" Bao asked, very quietly as he served a neat scotch to the captain.

"I'm not completely sure, but Rock opting out of this visit sure isn't helping. Maybe she wanted to have a contest tonight."

"So, where is Rock? Cause if he doesn't show up soon, Revy's gonna blow."

"I'm not sure. He's been acting off since we finished our job today."

"Great. So, I'm stuck here with a psycho-dame bomb while the only one who could defuse her is MIA?"

"That's about right, my man."

"Shit. If she blows, I'm sending you the bill."

By the time the crew called it a night, it was only one in the morning. Surprisingly, it was Revy who called it off. Slamming her empty glass against the bar, she suddenly stood. "This sucks, I'm out," She called out and headed out the back door. Dutch and Benny shared a look, then finished off their rounds and followed. The few remaining patrons breathed a sigh of relief as they left. Bao counted the rounds that he had served and was astonished to find that Revy had only had five drinks. For her, that was a record low amount of alcohol consumed. And she didn't shoot up the bar or leave a bunch of bodies for him to clean up. Even with the low sales, Bao thought this was the best night he could have had.

Dutch and Benny found Revy in the back seat of the car, with her feet up on the front seat. "That bastard better have a good fucking reason for killing my night," she said as Benny started the engine.

The next morning when Dutch arrived at the office, he found a note on the newly cleaned coffee table. In fact, the whole office looked to have been scrubbed down. Reading the note, however sank Dutch's rising mood faster than one of the Mk 8 torpedoes he carried on his boat.

Dutch:

I finished the paperwork for the job last night and sent it off to Mr. Chang. I figure you and the others won't be in until noon or later, so I'm going to run a few errands. I'm borrowing the car to stop by the church to place our monthly order. I'll see you when I get back.

Rock 0730hrs

Dutch looked at the wall mounted clock and saw it was only quarter past nine. Rock obviously didn't count on everyone being so nervous about Revy's mood that no one got even tipsy, much less the blackout drunk that was Revy's normal.

Just then Benny walked in. "Morning Dutch," he said as he made his way to the coffee pot. "I'm going to head over to old man Yang's shop, see if he has anything new that would work for us."

"I don't think so, Benny boy. Rock took the car over to the church this morning."

"Dammit. If there was anything new a Yang's, it'll sure as shit be gone now." Benny took a big gulp of his coffee. "Did Revy go with him?"

"Don't think so. His note is timestamped 7:30, and you know the only way to get Revy up that early is with an air horn."

"And a bullet proof vest and riot shield," chuckled Benny. Then he sobered. "Rock better be back before she wakes up or…"

Benny was interrupted when the door to the office was kicked open and a raging Revy stormed in. "Rock!" she yelled, stomping toward the door of the small office that Rock used for his accounting duties. "Why the fuck didn't you wake me up?" She punctuated her question by kicking the solid door so hard that it cracked in half. Not seeing her missing partner behind his desk, she rounded on the two males standing motionless around the table. Drawing one of her pistols she began by threatening her boss. "Where is he, Dutch?"

Dutch silently handed over the note Rock had left. After Revy finished reading it, she holstered her gun and flopped down on the couch, and proceeded to glare at the office door. "What the hell is wrong with him. First, he doesn't come drinking with us, then he doesn't wake me up, and now he's out doing stuff without me for backup?" She spared a glance from the door to ask Dutch, "Do you think he's leaving us?"

Dutch was glad he was wearing his dark sunglasses, because the surprise he felt at Revy's question was too great to not be seen in his eyes. He knew what he had heard in Revy's question, something he had never heard before. Fear. Not for her life, or even the man she called her partner. Everyone who lived in this shithole of a city knew Rock was almost untouchable. The Lagoon Company, Hotel Moscow, Mr. Chang and his Triads, and the Church of Violence would have his back if anything happened. No one sane would want to risk brining that much heat down on themselves. No, Revy's fear was the fear of a little girl who had seen everyone she ever trusted leave her behind. Amazing as it was to Dutch, Rock had managed to work his way into her heart so deeply that, if he left, she would probably crumble.

"If he was going to leave, he would have done so when you were in Tokyo. But I agree that something changed last night. We just need to be patient. I'm sure he'll come around."

Returning her glare to the door, Revy replied, "He fucking better. I didn't spend all this time and effort keeping that dipshit alive just for him to walk out on me." Dutch raised an eyebrow at the comment.

"Benny, get us the fuck out of here!" screamed Revy as she and Dutch dropped on to the deck of Dutch's treasured PT boat.

As the engines rumbled to life, Benny called back, "Is Rock back?"

"What the fuck you saying, Benny boy? He was supposed to be staying with you."

Before Dutch received an answer from Benny, a slender man dressed in mostly black jumped onto the after deck, clutching a long narrow weapon. His landing was less than graceful, ending in a pain filled yell as he ended up leaning against the starboard aft torpedo launcher.

"I'm here, Benny. Go!" called Rock as he began to use the machinegun he had brought aboard to keep the mercenaries from turning the deck of the Black Lagoon into a colander. Soon the modified boat was pulling into the shelter of the darkness.

As Revy approached the rear of the ship, she couldn't believe her eyes. Here was Rock, her dumbass, soft, pussy, helpless looser of a partner, leaning against the deckhouse with a machinegun at his feet and another weapon strapped to his chest. "What the FUCK, Rock!" she snapped.

"Revy," Rock's teeth reflected the available starlight, "I'm glad you're OK." Then he twisted to the stern and was violently sick. Revy waited until his heaving finished before she resumed her questioning.

"Okay, shithead, now that that's out of the way, you wanna explain what the fuck you were doing on that ship? We could have left you behind, dumbass! Then where would you have been?"

When she didn't get a response, she took a closer look at her partner. He was shaking uncontrollably and was not breathing normally. Placing a hand on his head she encountered cold, clammy skin.

"Shit," she thought before calling in her loudest voice, "Dutch, get back here! Rock's down"

"What?" Dutch called back immediately interrupting the discussion he had been having with Benny. Not waiting for an answer, he turned the controls over to his resident tech expert, and headed aft. He found Revy attempting to drag Rock to the main hatch. A task made much harder as Rock was still suffering from convulsions.

"Shit! He's in shock. We need to get him inside."

"No shit! What do you think I'm trying to do?" Dutch had heard Revy's sarcastic tone enough to know that this was different. To Dutch it sounded like Revy was scared.

Between the two of them, they were able to get Rock to the main cabin and set him on the table. As soon as he was down, Dutch hit the lights.

"Help me get this gear off him," Dutch said, "We need to open any tight clothing too."

Revy tried to take the sub machine gun from around Rock's neck, but found it attached to a strap that supported a pouch of magazines. A waist strap kept the pouch from flopping around unnecessarily. Releasing the connections, she opened the black with teal trim windbreaker he had put on over his normal white shirt and tie. Inside, she found another surprise, a 1911 pistol in a shoulder holster with extra mags hung from a butterfly rig similar to her own.

"Seriously, what the fuck?" she asked as she struggled to get the holster off, a job that became much easier when Dutch pulled Rock's belt from around his waist. "Figures this dumbass would actually use belt loops on a fucking shoulder rig."

"Just hurry up and get his tie off." Dutch said as he went to one of the cabinets built into the small kitchenette. Pulling out a large First-Aid kit, he returned just as Revy got frustrated enough to pull a folding knife from her waist. Flicking it open she carefully cut the silken embodiment (in her eyes anyway) of Rock's position as a business man.

Shaking his head at Revy's unconscious contracting actions - she had struggled with his shoulder holster for a full minute, but cut his loosely tied tie in ten seconds- Dutch opened the kit and began digging through it. Not finding what he was looking for, he looked up at Revy who was gleefully removing Rock's dress shirt, in as many pieces as possible.

"Revy, did you use up our IV bags to get over a hangover again?"

Revy flinched. "Don't worry, I'll replace them," she said.

"Damm right you will, but that's not the point. Now we can't hook Rock up or give him something to counteract the adrenaline overload he's going through."

"Fuck! So, what do we do now?"

"Besides elevating his head and feet? Nothing. We need to wait until his body corrects itself." Dutch sighed. "Drop his bunk and grab some pillows and blankets."

As Revy undid the clasps that held one of the bunks folded up against the wall, Dutch continued while opening a large trunk strapped under the table. After quickly making up the bed they placed Rock's still twitching body on it, and covered him with a blanket.

"That's all we can do for now," Dutch commented in a low tone.

"Then get back to the conn and get us back home. As fast as you can." said Revy.

"Right. But we're still a full day out." Dutch reminded the deadly young woman.

"Then put the hammer down, Dutch! Rock needs help!"

"I can't, or have you forgotten how much those Packard's guzzle at full tilt? We'd be adrift seventy-five miles short of home."

"Just get us there, Dutch!" Revy exclaimed as she dropped her holstered pistols on the bench with the other weapons and ammo they had removed from Rock.

"Will do," said Dutch as he turned to the control room's door.

"And Dutch," called Revy, as she was toeing off her boots, "You and Benny stay up there until I call for you." Dutch turned toward Revy just in time to see her undoing her belt.

"Got it," he said understanding her intentions. Both her plan to help her partner and the consequences should she be disturbed. "Let us know if anything changes." As he turned the white lights off, but leaving the cabin illuminated by the red blackout lights, he heard Revy joining her most trusted friend under the blankets.

On the command deck, Dutch took the controls from Benny. "You'd best make yourself comfortable up here, Benny Boy, unless you're looking for some nine-millimeter ventilation in your torso."

Benny froze with his hand on the door to the cabin. "You think she's in a shooting mood already? She just finished a major gunfight."

"Right now, she's in a 'Mama Bear whose cub's hurt' kind of mood." Dutch chuckled, "she'll shoot a shadow if it gets too close. So, take a seat and explain what the fuck happened."

Hours Later

Rock woke in the dimly lit lounge. "What happened," he mumbled weakly. He tried to sit up but found himself restrained by … something.

"You awake this time, Rock?" asked Revy quietly, as she held him close to her chest.

"Revy?"

"Yea, I'm here. Just relax," she told him while giving him a squeeze.

"What's going on?" Rock asked while kicking the pillows stacked under his feet off the bunk.

"You went into shock after we got off the target boat. That was about three hours ago. We're heading home now, but it will take about a day to get there." Revy held Rock tight again. "You scared the shit out of me there, partner. What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Sorry, Rocky Baby. You don't have a choice."

Rock turned off his back to face the empty cabin. Revy never let him go.

"Rock, I know what you're going through. I've been there. When I was in that fucking juvie jail, they made me see this stupid shrink. I never opened up to her, but she gave me a notebook and told me to fill it with my thoughts. It took me a while, but I eventually saw what she meant. Holding it all in was a poison. So, I filled a page, tore it out, and flushed it down the crapper. Then I filled another. It took a lot of notebooks, but by the time I got out I had come to terms with what I had done, who I had become. Sometimes, I think that actually talking to the shrink might have helped faster than the notebook. Now you're in the same position, so let me help. Please."

Rock was shocked. In the two years he had worked at the Lagoon Company, he could not remember Revy ever using the word 'please'. And she had almost never spoken so softly to him. But her story did make him realize that she was right. He did need to talk, and he trusted Revy with his life. Now he was going to trust her with his soul.

"When you and Dutch left the ship, something just felt wrong. I don't know how to explain it. But I went below decks to get my gear. I figured that the shirt would make me stand out, so I grabbed my jacket as well. I was in the engine room getting my MP-40 when the comm was jammed. I knew it was going to shit, so I grabbed up some of your spare mags and the bandolier of shells for Dutch. I had planned on giving him the bandolier on the anniversary of my employment, but something told me today it would be needed. That eight-slot mag holder was for you on the same day. I also grabbed four grenades from your stash." Rock expected a reaction from Revy about him helping himself to her stuff, but Revy remained quiet as Rock continued. "I was climbing up through the aft hatch when I heard two people land hard on the deck. They were speaking German and chuckling together about how stupid we were to leave our boat unmanned. When they approached the main hatch, I popped up and emptied almost a whole magazine into their backs. Looking up I saw a third man turning toward where I had shot from. He … got what was left in the mag. He fell overboard, but I didn't hear a splash. Now that I was outside, I could hear you and Dutch firing. A lot. After checking on Benny, I figured you had to be getting low on ammo. So, I climbed onto the target ship and tried to find you. I had made it to the catwalk around the second deck of the aft deckhouse. I saw you and Dutch hiding behind the corner of the forward house on the main deck. I know you saw the machinegun that was set to cover the space between the two houses, but you didn't see the guy directly above you, covering the walkway along the side of the ship. Luckily for me, he couldn't see past the floodlight I was behind. I could see you planning to sprint across the deck, so I acted. First, I tossed one of the grenades at the machinegun crew, and before it went off, I was firing at the guy above you. When he dropped his rifle, I tossed the bursting smoke grenade down to the deck. When that went off, I saw you and Dutch running through the kill zone. I was sending short bursts toward the bad guys at the time, so I pushed the ammo I brought you off the catwalk with my foot. Return fire started coming back my way, so I fell back to the corner of the deckhouse. I couldn't see either of you anymore, so I started making my way back to the Lagoon. I ducked into the deckhouse, intending to follow the same route I had used to get there, but I heard a small group heading my way. The second frag was sent down the ladder, and I began trying to find my way across the ship from the inside. When I finally made it back outside, I was next to a staircase heading down to the main deck. Just before I started down, three of the Germans ran past and took cover behind the dingy and lift controls. Then I saw you two behind some crates firing across the deck. You were about to be flanked, but I … shot them … before they were ready to open up. I was jumping down the stairs when you made your break for the ship. As I ran past, I grabbed the machinegun and just blind fired it as I ran for the boat myself. I remember hitting the deck, and firing at the ship, but that's where it ends." Rock took a pause in his tail to try to bring some more memories to the front. "That's it. The next thing I know is waking up here with your arms around me." He gave a weak chuckle. "Not a bad way to wake up, to be honest."

Revy had remained silent through Rocks entire tale. He had delivered it like the business man he was, calm, well ordered, professional. But she was not surprised to hear his voice crack once or twice. After a minute of silence, Rock continued in a very different voice, one that was on the verge of collapse.

"I killed them, Revy. I'm a murderer. They had families and loved ones and I took them away. How can… what can I …" Rock dissolved into tears.

Revy knew that the only thing she could do now was be there for him. Any words would sound tripe and unconvincing, so she just held him and let him cry himself out. Nothing in her life had ever been so painful. Not getting shot, not the cruel indignities forced upon her by those sworn to serve and protect, not even having her leg run through with a sword, absolutely nothing was as painful as holding her … what was Rock to her? Partner? That's what she called him, but after tonight, that word did not suffice. Friend? Crewmate? Pain in the Ass? Lover? It didn't matter. Nothing was as painful as holding her Rock while he was in pain, knowing there was nothing she could do to help.

Eventually Rock wore himself out and fell asleep. Several times that night, Revy would feel him start to fall into the depths of nightmare. Each time, she would hold him tighter, and whisper reassurances that she was still there. That she wasn't going to leave him. In the twilight of pre-dawn, Rock eventually woke. He tried to get out of Revy's embrace without waking her, not realizing that she had not slept all night.

"Where you going Rocky Baby?" she asked in a teasing tone while again tightening her hold.

Rock was relieved to hear the playful tone he had become so accustomed to back in Revy's voice. He had been worried that she would not want him around her now that he was a killer. She was surrounded by killers, but he wasn't one. That was why she kept him around. At least that's what his insecurities had been telling him.

"I need the head, and something to eat. And, Revy, I think I want to be alone for a while."

Revy raised her head to look Rock in the face. Whatever she saw there was enough to get a small smile and a nod from her. "Okay. I'll be on deck or in the conn if you need me."

Rock nodded and moved off toward the small restroom of the boat. Revy meanwhile got dressed, after spending a few seconds admiring Rock's backside as he walked away. Climbing into the pilot house with the others, she was amused to see Benny curled into a ball asleep on the floor. Dutch seemed tired as well, but he was still awake.

"Hey, Revy," Dutch greeted her in his normal deep mellow tone. "How's our boy?"

"He's been better," Revy replied. "You know as well as I that there's now easy way through this. All we can do is be there for him."

"Fuckin A," Dutch's use of one of Revy's favorite slangs got a chuckle. "I've been worried about this since he joined us. Frankly, I'm surprised he lasted as long as he did. There was no way he wouldn't take up a gun eventually, not working for us."

Revy lit a cigarette. "Yea." Dutch waited for her to say more, but Revy kept her silence.

"I heard from Benny, that he went out to try to save us."

"Yep. Just like that fucking dumbass. Always trying to be the white knight. I told him that shit is just fairy tales. Any white knight eventually turns red."

"Saved our asses, though," remarked Dutch.

"Fuckin A," Revy answered, taking a long final drag on her smoke. "More than we realized."

"Hmm?"

"I got him to talk through what happened. Apparently while were suppressing that last bunch that tried to rush us, Rock nailed a team on our flank. That's when he grabbed his newest toy." Revy lit another cigarette. "Speaking of which…" she turned and exited to the main deck.

On deck, Revy went aft to find the machinegun Rock had taken. Seeing it clearly for the first time, she gave an impressed whistle. Revy had never seen a MG-3 before, other than pictures or the occasional YouTube video. "Rock may be a dumbass, but he sure knows how to grab the right gun. I can't wait to let loose with this," Revy thought to herself as she picked the weapon up. Seeing the few remaining rounds in the belt, she nearly pulled the trigger right there. But she didn't, much to the amazement of Dutch when she re-entered the pilot house.

"Not like you to leave bullets in a new gun," Dutch commented when he saw her bringing the weapon inside.

"Not my gun, Dutch. This one belongs to Rock. I'm just bringing it down so he can clean it with his others."

"Not claiming it for yourself?"

"Dumbass risked his neck to pull us out of the fire. I'm not going to claim the spoils he's earned."

Dutch nodded, and Revy dropped down into the lounge. Rock was sitting at the table staring at the Pop-Tart he was holding in his hands.

Without speaking, Revy placed the MG-3 on the bench with his other weapons. As she turned back toward the door, Rock spoke.

"Revy?" Revy turned to look at him. "Am I a murderer?" His eyes held a fear and hopelessness that brought pain back to her heart.

"No, Rock. You are not a murderer," She reassured him in a calm voice. Sitting down across from him she continued, "Tell me Rock, why did you pick up a gun? Why did you become a killer?"

Rock stayed silent, so Revy continued. "Murder is killing someone without reason, or at least an acceptable one. A soldier who kills on the battlefield is not a murderer, nether is someone defending themselves or others. Last night, did you kill to kill, or did you kill to protect?" Revy already knew the answer, but needed Rock to admit to the difference.

"To protect."

"Exactly. That's the difference." Rock gave her a small smile.

"Thanks Revy"

"For what, dumbass? Telling you the obvious truth that you already knew?" she chuckled. "Now finish up with your food while I grab the cleaning supplies. It's time to get to work." She said as she gestured to the pile of weapons on the bench beside him.

As the two sat at the table cleaning the weapons that had been used, and the ones Benny had found on the bodies that Rock had left strewn over the deck, Revy asked the question that had been driving her crazy with curiosity ever since she saw Rock land on the deck.

"So Rock, how long have you been shooting? You were a little too good to have just picked up a gun for the first-time last night. And I know we've never had a MP-40 before. So, spill."

Rock blushed red. "I've been shooting for about a month, now." He said keeping his answer short.

"A month, huh." Revy looked up from the MP-5 she was cleaning, one of the guns that used to belong to the mercenaries. "And where did you get that MP-40?"

"Miss Balalaika got it for me." He chuckled, "she only charged me six-hundred dollars."

"Fuck, she's worse than that damm nun."

Weeks Later

Rock stood in the bedroom of his apartment. He had recently moved into an apartment building a few minutes' walk from the Lagoon office. He had been perfectly happy to stay in the employee's rooms that Dutch graciously allotted to his crew. However, Rock had begun to feel the squeeze. Especially since he had been trying to keep his training secret from Revy. He wasn't sure why it had been so important to keep her in the dark, but it had been. After the clusterfuck with the German mercenaries, he had chalked it up to male pride. But that was past. Now he had to deal with Revy almost constantly pestering him to train with her, mostly with his guns and ammo. She had grown especially attached to his MG-3, much to the detriment of his ammunition supplies.

Today, Rock was faced with a different dilemma, what to wear. He was looking at two shirts hanging from his wall locker. Both were Hawaiian patterns, but were very different otherwise. On the left was a hideous shirt, mostly a color somewhere between peach and pea soup. The large bright green leaves and popping red flowers clashed horribly with the background. On the right was a rather more tasteful one, mostly black with white flowers about six inches across, on green stems with red centers. Fortunately, there were few enough flowers to keep the clashing colors contained. Under normal circumstances, the choice would have been easy, but the hideous shirt had been a gift from Revy. While he had never worn it, he had also never worn any other Hawaiian shirts either. But today he needed a covering to complete his outfit. For the first time, he was wearing what Revy would call 'real clothes'. New jeans, a pair of new work boots, a solid color tee-shirt in dark blue, and his pistol holster. But Rock was not comfortable enough to openly carry his 1911. "AWW, fuck it," he thought to himself as he grabbed the left shirt. Rock knew he was in for a bit of hazing, but that would be preferable to Revy using the flowers on the other for target practice. Especially since she would probably not wait for him to take the shirt off first.

On the walk to the office, Rock did notice that he was attracting a few odd stares, but no one openly made a comment. When he entered the office, though…

"Morning!" called Rock as he opened the door.

"Morning," replied Dutch, as he sat reading a book about PT boats in action during the second world war.

"Hey, Rock," answered Revy not looking up from cleaning her guns.

"Rock, you gotta move back here!" complained Benny as he rubbed a sore spot on his chest while he worked on his computer. With a bullet proof vest at his feet, Rock noticed. "I'm getting tired of getting shot at every time I gotta wake Revy up … Holy Shit! What are you wearing?" Benny's exclamation caused the others to look up from what they were doing.

"Never in my life have I been more glad to be wearing these shades," Dutch said as he saw the infamous shirt through the polarized lenses of his trademark sunglasses.

"God! I need eye bleach!" said Benny.

"Aww, did you get all dressed up for little old me?" teased Revy, before she broke down laughing so hard it doubled her over.

"OK, Rock. Explain yourself, before I have to fire you for dress code violations."

"Well, Dutch, I was forced to change my outfit for today, and it came down to this shirt or likely being Revy's moving target practice."

"So, what forced you to change your outfit?" asked Benny.

"I'll show you," said Rock, seeing Revy's guns still in pieces. Walking calmly behind the couch that Revy was still laughing on, he drew his pistol from under his shirt and thumbed the safety off.

Revy immediately stopped laughing and jumped over the coffee table she had been working at, and grabbed her guns along the way. Flashing to her feet she held them up at Rock, who was also holding his gun on Revy.

"Sorry, Revy. You lost this one." Rock calmly said.

"Bullshit! I would have blasted you out the window if I thought you actually had the balls to through down with me!"

Rock chuckled. "You might need your barrels before any of that could happen," he said as he put his safety on and lowered his gun. The dumbfounded look on Revy's face as she realized she was only holding the trigger assembly of her guns was hilarious. So much so, that all three males had to leave the room before their laughter could break through. Or Revy could reassemble her guns.

Dutch was startled when he heard Rock whisper his name while he was standing on the rear stairs waiting for Revy to cool down. Looking up he saw Rock extending his hand to pull Dutch up to the building's roof. Dutch was sure he would end up pulling the much smaller Japanese man off the roof before he could get up, but it was less likely that Revy would find them there. Hearing Revy getting frustrated at her inability to find Rock did provide a lot of motivation. When he finally got up, he saw that Benny was helping to counter Dutch's three-hundred pounds of muscle.

"Ok, hotshot. That was funny as hell, I'll admit. But how do you plan on getting her to forgive you."

"I'm sure she's not going to forget this any time soon," said Benny, putting his two cents in.

"Well, that kind of depends. Do we have anything on the schedule for today?"

"Nope. In fact, I think I'll head down to the dock. I'm sure there's something I can fix on the boat. But by the time I get back, I want Revy calm enough that she won't be shooting at me." Dutch looked over at Benny when he cleared his throat.

"While you're out, be sure to stop by the bank. You did lose our bet, remember."

Dutch groaned. "Yea, I remember. Dammit Rock, why didn't you burn that monstrosity?"

A few minutes later Revy stormed into the office. "There you are you cocksucker!" she roared, seeing Rock sitting calmly on the couch with a magazine. "I'm gonna fill you so full of lead you'll be able to use your prick as a pencil!"

"Sorry, Revy. I'm out of time to play today. Got some errands to run. Catch you later, Benny!"

"Good luck," Benny called back from where he was cowering behind the office safe and under his bullet proof vest.

"Don't you ignore me, you motherfucker!"

"Look Revy, if you want to continue ranting and threatening me, that's fine. But I'm heading to Mr. Praiyachat's, then I've got a few other stops to make before I'm due at the church. If you'd like, you can come along. Then afterward, we could go and have a little fun."

"What kind of fun?" Revy asked warily, lowering her guns slightly.

"Gun fun," replied Rock. "And when we're done, I was thinking of heading over to the Yellow Flag."

Revy looked at Rock's calm face. "Fuck, you sure know how to offer a girl a good time," she said as she holstered her guns. "Let's go."

As they exited the building, Rock turned toward his apartment.

"Where you going, Rock? That old codger's shop is this way."

"I know, but there's going to be a lot to carry, so I thought I'd get my wheels."

"When did you get a car? What you got?"

"You'll see," answered Rock as they made their way to his apartment. In the underground garage, Revy was surprised at Rock's choice of wheels. An old Chevy Blazer from the eighties. It was coated in some type of spray on plastic bed liner, tinted in sea green. The suspension had been toughened and raised, with trail rated tires. While it only had two doors, she could see two full bench seats. The rear windows were tinted very dark, but when Rock opened the tailgate, she saw that a steel mesh had been added to the inside.

After loading up, they drove over to the best gun shop in the city. Mr. Praiyachat was easily in his seventies, slightly hunched with a bit of a paunch, but his skill as a gunsmith was as sharp as ever. While he was willing to trade and sell stock guns, he relished the chance to work on custom guns, the crazier the better. So far there had only been four custom orders he had not been able to fill.

As Revy exited the truck at the gun shop, she realized a small problem with taking Rock's ride around town.
"Do you want me to wait with the car?"
"You can if you want, but I doubt it's necessary."
"Not necessary?"
Suddenly a voice called out from a table outside a small family market, where a chess game was currently under way. "Do not worry, Ms. Two-Hands," said the speaker in a heavy Russian accent. "We will watch over the vehicle. Not that it's likely anyone would try anything, after what happened to the last set of fools."
"Heard about that, did you?" asked Rock.
"Da. The Kaptin was so amused that she has set a reward for any of her soldiers who can surpass it. Naturally, this has leaked, so no one wants anything to do with this vehicle."
"Rock." That one word was as good as a paragraph for Rock. Revy wanted to know what happened, right now.
"I'll tell you later," he said as he led Revy inside.
"Hey, Mr. Praiychek!" Rock called as the door closed. The balding old man quickly stepped out of his workshop at the back of the store.
"Ahh!" he cackled, "My new most challenging customer! Here to pick up what's ready or give me a new challenge? And you brought her along. Hey, Revy. Your cutlasses holding up?"
"Pretty well, so far. Haven't had to use them as a hammer lately."
"See that you don't. So, what brings you by, Rock?"
"Got an easy problem for you today." Reaching into his waistband and pulled out a small chromed pistol, a European copy of the Colt 1903. "This works fine as a pocket gun for me, but the idiot who had it chromed induced a chronic jamming problem. Every two or three shots it stovepipes."
"Probably coated the rails." As Mr. Praiychek reached for the pistol, Revy snatched it from Rock's hand. Looking it over, she asked Rock, "Where did you get this pansy assed piece, Rock?"
"I'll tell you later, Revy. It's a pretty good story. One that deserves time and Bacardi to tell properly."
Revy looked at Rock skeptically as she handed the gun to the gunsmith. "You know, you've been making lots of promises to me today. What are you going to do if you can't deliver?"
Slightly embarrassed, Rock began scratching the back of his neck. "Umm...Duck?" he answered, with a sheepish grin on his face. This was apparently the correct answer, as it made Revy double over in laughter again.
Over his own chuckles, Mr. Praiychek said "I'll take a look at it. In the meantime, do you want to take the Cossack and the Saber with you? I'm still working on the others."
"If they're ready, I'll take them. And how much for the new job."
Mr. Praiychek sighed. "I'll just take the deposit out of the change I owe you for your new guns. Turns out they were not as difficult as I anticipated. Not that the others aren't making up for it."
"What the hell, old man! You've never given me a break on anything! Why's he getting special treatment?"
"Because I can already see that he treats his weapons with more respect than you ever will."
Mr. Praiychek carried Rock's pistol into his workshop. He returned carrying two boxes, one long and one short. Placing them on the counter, he gestured for Rock to open them.
"These look great. Thank you." Rock said as he examined his new purchases. Revy was looking over his shoulder.
The long box contained his new assault rifle, the Cossack. It was a modified M-4 style carbine chambered for the Winchester .30 carbine round. Equipped with a full rail fore guard and another rail along the top, it mounted a holographic sight along with iron sights, and a folding bipod. Inside, a piston had been added to the operating system. An engraving of a Cossack was located on the magazine well.
The small box held his Saber pistol. On the outside it looked very similar to Revy's Cutlass model, based on the Beretta 92FS. But, in addition to the customizations found on Revy's Cutlasses, Rock's was chambered for the Russian Tokarev 7.62x25mm cartridge. Finally, instead of the emblem of Calico Jack, the crossed sabers of the US Cavalry were embossed into the hand grips.

After a quick inspection, the pair left the shop carrying Rock's new acquisitions. Once they were on their way, Revy turned to Rock.

"This morning, you said you were forced to change your outfit. And you told the old man you were using that shiny pea-shooter as a pocket piece. Coincidence?"

"Nope, you got it right. I knew I was going to be dropping off the .32 for repairs, and I didn't want to reveal that the business man was packing on the job by wearing my full rig openly. So, I changed my look so I could cover it. And it seems that this hideous shirt is keeping anyone from looking close enough to notice my gun."

"That's not a fucking nice way to describe a gift, asshole."

"Revy, you know I do appreciate the gift, but it doesn't change the fact that this is the most horribly colored piece of clothing I have ever worn. And I was a western style clown for a school event."

"Then why'd you wear it if you think it's so fucking bad?"

"Two reasons. First it was a gift from you. And second, if you saw me wear a different Hawaiian style shirt before you saw me in this one, you'd have shot me full of holes and buried me in this one."

"Fucking A I would!" Revy crowed. "Wait, does that mean you've got another shirt like this one?"

"Why, thinking of burning it?"

"Maybe," She chuckled. Then she noticed that they had crossed into the Triad's territory. "What are we doing in this part of town?"

"Well, the best tailors are over here. And I've got a few pickups."

Parking the Blazer along the curb of the tailor's street, Revy noticed that the reaction of a few of the Triad soldiers she recognized was very similar to that of the Russian who had spoken to them earlier.

"Let me guess, Boss Chang also knows the story."

"Well, his men helped write it. I wouldn't be surprised if he was the one who told it to Ms. Balalaika."

"You think the two of them are getting close?"

"If you mean an actual relationship, I doubt it. They've both got too much responsibility to their parent organizations to risk that. But they do seem to enjoy fencing with each other. And they both enjoy being in power, so that's a common ground between them."

"Hmm… you're probably right." Revy glanced toward Rock as they made their way down the sidewalk. "You're getting pretty good at understanding this fucking shithole."

"Thanks, I guess. Here's our first stop." Rock led Revy into a small sewing shop. Instead of having various clothes on display, a selection of tactical gear was displayed from various racks and the walls that partitioned the front from the actual sewing room.

"My kind of store," said Revy as she began to examine the various display items. Just then a girl in her late teens stepped out from the back.

"Oh! Mr. Rock. Nice to see you again."

Something in her tone instantly set Revy's nerves on edge. She didn't know why, or at least she wasn't ready to admit why, but suddenly this store was the last place she wanted to be. Or wanted Rock to be. Turning away from the butterfly style harness she had been examining, she turned just in time to see the clerk grabbing Rock's hand with both of hers as he attempted to pay. Walking up beside Rock, Revy put her arm around his waist and leaned her head on his shoulder.

"Ready to go, Rocky baby?" she said while looking at the clerk. The young lady immediately released the hand she was holding as the color drained from her face.

"Yep," Rock replied. "Have a nice day, Chuan."

"Good-bye, Mr. Rock," replied Chuan in a much-subdued tone.

Outside, as they walked toward their next stop, Revy smirked at her partner.

"Chuan, huh?" she teased.

"Yea, thanks for that. Her grandmother started the shop years ago, when she realized that there was a market for custom fitted holsters. Chuan doesn't want to run the shop, though, but doesn't have many other options. Her dad's a Triad soldier, and pretty strict. Archaic is the word Chuan uses."

"You sure seem to know a lot."

"More than I'd like. When I placed my first order, Ling-sa took one look at me and decided to play matchmaker for her granddaughter. If they weren't the best, I'd be running for the docks if anyone suggested I get within two hundred meters of their shop."

"So, no wedding plans in your future, Rocky Baby?" Revy teased, enjoying the look if discomfort plastered across his face.

"It would take one hell of a woman to get me off the market," he replied, blushing brightly.

Fortunately, for Rock, they arrived at their final stop on this portion of their trip. This was a normal haberdasher, and Revy only had to wait a few minutes while Rock collected his purchases. To Revy's relief, there were no female employees with hearts in their eyes present.

As the pair returned to the – miraculously, in Revy's opinion - untouched truck, they crossed paths with a trio of young men. Much to her amusement, the three stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. At first, Revy thought that they had recognized her or were merely shocked at her outfit. But when she saw that their faces had lost all color, and the one in the middle having a wet spot spreading on the front of his khaki trousers, she wondered what she could have done to cause such a reaction. In fact, she could not remember ever meeting them before. However, Revy was ready to admit, that didn't mean she hadn't met them before. Her many drinking contests with Rock had left many nights that were lost to her.

"We didn't touch it!" screamed the one with the wet pants. Which totally surprised and confused Revy.

"A little quick to claim your innocence there, aren't you?" replied Rock with a firm smile.

This little comment shattered the trio's resolve. Without another word they took off, sprinting into traffic and fleeing as if a demon was at their heels. Rock and Revy watched until the three were safely around the corner. Then Rock, and several dozen spectators burst into laughter.

"I never expected that reaction!" Rock called out as his mirth faded. "I'm curious. Who bet on pissing themselves and running away?" Two hands were raised, one from a Triad soldier on patrol, and the other from the vender of a food stand. "I hope you got good odds. See ya!" replied Rock as he opened the door to his truck for Revy.

"OK, what the FUCK was that about?" demanded Revy.

"I may have made too much of an impression when we first met," chuckled Rock.

"More like you scared them shitless!" Revy almost cheered. "What did you do?!"

"Well, they kinda pissed me off."

"I've seen you pissed off. It's nothing that would get that reaction."

"And I decided to play big league gangster, with them as the audience."

"You! Playing gangster? That's funny, how did that work out?"

"I think you just saw the results."

"And you're still not gonna tell me the story, right?"

"Not until were done working and started drinking."

"Damm your work ethic. You better finish the rest of these fucking errands fast as fuck, before my patience runs the fuck out."

"Don't worry, the church is the last stop. Then we can get to the fun stuff."

Pulling up to the Church of Violence, Rock and Revy exited the truck to the music of the lookout parrot's call of "RPG, RPG, I'll kill you!" marching up to the side door, Revy smashed it with her fist.

"YO, Bitch! Open up, we got business."

Shortly, a woman dressed as a nun, except for the pink sunglasses and pistol she was wearing, opened the door.

"What you want, Two-hands? We're expecting a client, so if you're just here to play, fuck off."

"Good afternoon, Eda. Is Sister Youlanda around?" asked Rock as he approached.

"Yo, Romeo!" Eda responded, giving him an enticing grin. "Yea, she's in her office. I'll show you the way." Turning, Eda led the two to the mother of this small convent.

"Greetings, Sister. How are you this fine day?"

"Ah, young man. Welcome. I'm as fine as can be expected. I'm assuming you're here to pick up your order?"

"And place a repeat order, since I'm here. For the ammunition, at least."

"I see. Well, come. Sit. Brother Rico!" the one-eyed sister called to the young priest who had recently joined the church's staff. Within moments, he appeared pushing a tea cart. After serving a cup to everyone, he took his place behind the elder sister.

"Before we begin, young man, I simply must ask. What possessed you to wear that shirt. It is repulsive," said Sister Yolanda.
"No shi...kidding" Eda corrected herself at the senior sister's sharp glance "What happened? Lose a bet?"
"Dammit, what the fucks wrong with it?"
"If you need me to explain it, Revy, you must be color blind...Wait! Is this the shirt you bought him when he joined up with you guys?"
"And if it is?" asked Revy in a dangerous tone.
"If it is, it means either Romeo did lose a bet, or he has fallen for you. No, scratch that. Not even love could make someone wear that...monstrosity."
"Sorry to derail your hypothesis, Eda. But there are other reasons to wear this shirt" said Rock, crossing his arms in an offended manner.
"Oh, yea? Name one."
"How about..." As Eda was trying not to look at Rock's shirt, Rock smoothly pulled out his 1911. Pointing it at Eda before she could finish her draw, Rock continued "camouflage."

Sister Yolanda's one eye was as wide as her oversized eyepatch, but Eda's expression at finding herself outdrawn by Rock was only topped by her annoyance at herself for not noticing that the businessman was armed in the first place. Revy of course, found the situation hilarious.
"How in heaven's name did that get by me?" Sister Yolanda asked herself.
"As I said, camouflage. In this case, repelling camouflage. The shirt is so bad, no one wants to look at it. If they aren't looking, they won't find what's underneath."

"Just so, I guess this proves you're never too old to learn something new." Sister Youlanda marveled as Rock re-holstered his gun. She then returned to the point of the meeting, "We were able to fill most of your request, however, some items are proving harder to acquire. I'm sure we will be able to, but it is taking longer than I expected. I apologize for the delay."

"I understand, Sister. It is an odd request. But the rest of my order has arrived, correct?"

"Yes, Rock. It has." She pulled a sheet of paper from her robes. "Five crates of German belted 7.62mm, five crates of 9mm parabellum, Three crates of Winchester .30 carbine, two crates of Tokarev 7.62mm, two crates of 12 gage buckshot, and a crate of 12 gage slug. Also, the shotgun you ordered has arrived."

"Excellent, sister. I'll take everything with me today. And will it be convenient to re-order the same ammunition in the same quantities again? I promised Revy some gun fun today, so much of this supply will likely be used up before I even get it home."

"Gun fun?" asked Eda. "What you got in mind, Romeo? Taking Revy out to shoot up an orphanage or something?"

"Fuck off, Sister Skanky," replied Revy hotly. "You know damm well Rocky baby would never do something like that!"

"But you would." Eda fired back.

Before Revy could launch another verbal assault, or draw her guns, Rock interrupted. "Nothing so interesting, I'm afraid. Just standard targets in an unusual way."

"This better not be boring, or I'm gonna make you regret wasting my day, Rock. And don't forget I'm still pissed about this morning."

"Ohoo, what happened this morning, Romeo?" cooed Eda.

"None of your damm business, Ho!"

"Now I'm really curious. Romeo, why not dump her off at the range with a box of shells so she can practice, and then you and me go have a different kind of fun."

"Rock…"

"Don't worry, Revy. I'm not changing our plans."

"Then I guess I'll just tag along," Eda proclaimed. "Rico, help Rock load up his stuff while I get changed."

"Eda," Rock began, but Revy cut him off.

"You promised fun, Rock. And I can't think of much more fun than beating Eda's ass at whatever piddling little challenge you've dreamed up."

"If you're sure, Revy."

After concluding negotiations with Sister Youlanda and filling his Blazer with the ammunition, Rock and Revy were waiting for Eda.

"You sure you want to bring her along?" asked Rock as he leaned against his truck.

"Why not. It's not like this is a date or something. Besides, I'm sure she's going to be so busy trying to get into your pants that she'll be an easy mark. I'm planning on winning some of the money I've lost to her at cards back."

Just then, Eda walked up, wearing her normal off work (AKA skimpy) attire. "Ready to go, Romeo?" she asked as she got into the truck and slid into the middle of the front seat.

"What the fuck, Eda? There's an entire back seat, you know."

"Oh, really, I didn't notice. Well, feel free to sit there if you want. I was just being courteous by letting you have the window seat."

"My ass! You're just trying to get closer to Rocky Baby. So, get in the back, bitch. Before I end up needing to clean Rock's truck for him."

"Fine," Eda answered like an annoyed teenager. After she had clambered into the back, Rock and Revy climbed in. As they drove down the poorly maintained road, Eda brought up an interesting topic for conversation.

"So, Romeo, what's this I've been hearing about you going mafia don on us?"

"Christ, you've heard about it too? Rock, dammit, if you don't fill me in, I'm going to shoot you so much that the undertaker will be burying a bunch of holes connected by very little Rock."

"Romeo hasn't told you yet?"

"Not yet, Eda. I've been waiting for the right time and place. And rum. That story is going to need lots of rum. But I'm curious, how did you hear about it, Eda."

"In confession. Those three idiots came to the church to pray for protection."

Revy cracked up. "Jesus, Rock! What did you do to those poor boys?"

"I'll"

"Tell you later," Revy finished the statement with him. Then she chuckled. "This story better be good, Rock. That's all I'm going to say."

After twenty minutes of driving, Rock turned into an old quarry's access road. At the end was a clearing that had been set up as a makeshift firing range.

"Where the Fuck are we, Rock," asked Revy as the three climbed out of the truck.

"This is a spot Ms. Balalaika told me about. It's mostly too far out for anyone to use, so it made a perfect place for me to practice."

Opening up the back, Rock began to dig through the things he had brought along. Besides the weapons and ammo, there were various items you would likely see at a range, along with a plastic tuff-box.

"Okay, the first order of business is to get the Cossack sighted in, then test out the Saber. After that, I'll need to let you girls get some familiarization training in while I set up the main event."

"Then, let's get cracking, Rocky baby," Revy said as she grabbed the folding table out of the Blazer. Eda helped by taking a box containing miscellaneous items. Rock followed with the rifle and a case of ammo.

After setting up the table, Revy flipped through a folder that she had taken from the box Eda dropped off. Finding a zeroing target, she grabbed the staple gun and headed to the target frame twenty-five meters out. When she returned, Eda was examining Rock's new rifle while laughing at his choice. Meanwhile Rock was filling several magazines.

"Rock, what possessed you to choose this round? I mean, it's the most underpowered rifle round I've ever heard of. Heck, even the old .44 long would have been a better choice."

"Laugh all you want, Eda. I thought long and hard before making my selection. Ever since I've been here, it's been very rare for a fight to be fought at ranges exceeding a hundred meters. The .30 carbine might be quite light for a military's needs, but it'll dump more energy at that range into the target than a 5.56 NATO would. And it cuts down on the chances of an over-penetration causing collateral casualties."

"Ever the white knight," sneered Revy. "But that's what makes you so interesting." She began to load mags for the Saber. Eda saw this and laughed.

"Hey Two-Hands, those are Toke rounds, not 9mm. They aint gonna fit."

"Check the gun before you question what I'm doing, skank. Rocky Baby had Mr. Praiychek customize even more than I did."

Eda picked up the Saber. "Holy Shit, you got a Beretta 92 chambered for Toke!?"

"Sure did." Said Rock as he finished filling the rifle mags.

"In the name of god, why!"

"Body armor."

"What?"

"You know, bullet proof vests and stuff like that. Most use the 9mm cartridge as a baseline for protection. I'm not as good a shot as Revy or you, so I shoot for center mass. The Toke can get through most of those vests."

"Huh, I didn't think about that."

Rock took up the rifle and turned toward the target. Revy snatched up a pair of binoculars to spot. Three rounds fired. Then another set of three.

"You're hitting right and low. Adjust three left and up two." Rock made the adjustments, remembering that the electronic sight required multiplying the adjustment by five.

Two more sets of three shots went out. "Center hit," Revy called out after each shot. "I think we can call you zeroed for now."

"Great, now to qualify." Rock opened a cardboard tube and pulled out a large sheet of brown paper. On it were silhouettes of varying sizes. Eda took the sheet from him.

"Twenty-five-meter graduated silhouette qualification target. You joining the Army, Romeo?"

"Already did," replied Rock, getting chuckles from both Eda and Revy. Eda set the target, and watched as Rock quickly put two holes in each Silhouette while lying prone, then another hole each while kneeling, followed by a final hole while standing. Retrieving the paper, she looked at Rock with a stunned expression.

"Rock, were you joking about joining the Army?"

"Nope, I spent three years in the JGSDF."

"NO fucking way!" exclaimed Revy. "Then why haven't you been packing until now?"

"That's not something I'm going to talk about now. Just leave it." Rock's tone said he was completely serious. Eda and Revy shared a look before nodding.

Rock picked up his saber pistol and loaded a mag. Taking aim at the zeroing target still hanging downrange, he carefully began to clear out the center of the paper. Two magazines later, he turned to his friends.

"Damm, Mr. Praiychek does good work," he grinned.

"Fucking A!" exclaimed Revy as she shouldered the rifle and began to join in. Soon everyone was having a great time shooting at almost anything, almost like a gun fueled game of horse. As expected, betting was quickly involved. After several rounds of weapon swapping, which included everyone trying to pass the qualification target challenge with every weapon, including his new Benelli M-4 12-gage, Rock headed back to the truck. Grabbing his MG-3 and MP-40 and ammo, he returned to the table. When he opened the can of belted ammo for the machinegun, he immediately caught Revy's attention.

"Okay, ladies. Now that we've warmed up, it's time for the next stage of the agenda, familiarization." As he continued, he began breaking the belted ammo into five round mini belts. "While I'm setting up the course, I want you to practice a bit for what you'll need to do on my course. First, you will need to get familiar with what a five round burst feels like from the MG-3, so each of you will have twenty, five-round belts to practice with. That bright rock," he pointed toward a rock that sat out distinctly from the rockface of the cliff wall, "is about three-hundred meters from here. That's your target. Next is the MP-40. You need to practice trigger control. Try for three round bursts. There's ten full mags in the pouches."

"Got it," said Revy.

"That it?" asked Eda.

"You may want to practice loading the shotgun quickly, if you have time. It'll take me about forty-five minutes to get the course set up."

By the time Rock was done, the two women had shot through all the ammunition on the table. They were now timing each other on loading the shotgun. As he walked up, they looked up from their game.

"All set, Rocky baby?"

"Just need the table and guns."

"Hey, Romeo. It's your turn to load the shotty. Four rounds from the table into the gun. I got fifty that says you're not faster than me."

"Heh, sucker. I've got fifty that Rocky beats your time but not mine."

"You're both on." Rock took the gun and arranged the shells as he wanted them, in a two-by-two grid. Looking up at Revy, who was holding the stopwatch, he nodded.

"Three…Two…One…Go!"

Rock's hand flashed out and grabbed all four shells at once. He then smoothly fed the first line if shells into the shotgun, followed by the next set less than a second later. Raising his hand away from the gun he called done, as he had seen them do during their attempts. Instinctively, Revy stopped the time.

"Holy Shit!" she exclaimed with a stunned look on her face. "Two point three seven seconds." Eda looked at the watch in disbelief. Then she reached into her pocket and produced a US fifty-dollar bill and handed it to Rock. Revy followed with two twenties and a ten.

"How the fuck did you do that?" asked a still stunned Revy.

"I got the idea from a video about Three-Gun competitions in the States. Then I practiced on the boat, using Dutch's Remington." Rock paused for that to sink in, "Just out of curiosity, what were your times"
"Seven point one seven," responded Eda in a disgusted tone.

"Five point nine three."

"Well, that was fun, but the course is almost ready. I'm ready for the guns now, but do you want some lunch before we start?"

"Fucking A! I'm starving!" Revy grabbed one end of the table that had the guns piled on it. Rock grabbed the other, and Eda brought the MG-3. At the truck, Rock pulled out a large cooler. Everyone took a seat on whatever they could, mostly ammo crates, and watched in anticipation as Rock opened the ice chest. Revy groaned in delight when she saw him lift out a very large, multi-layered bento box. If there was any one thing she had never teased him about, it was his skill as a cook. And today he had gone all out. Inside the box were all her favorites, presented with such skill that anyone would be impressed. There were even several apple bunnies. After a quick "Ikidasamas" the three dug in with gusto. It didn't take long before the box was looking decidedly depleted.

"Damm, Rocky Baby. You sure know how to cook."

"Amen, sister." Said Eda as she leaned back with a sigh of satisfaction. "Why the hell haven't you chained him down yet? I mean, if you don't want him, I'll gladly take him."

"Fuck off, Sister Skanky. It aint none of your business." Revy replied without heat. Internally, she had been asking herself the same thing.

"If we're done eating, why don't we walk through the course while I explain the rules."

"Sounds, good Romeo." The three grabbed the weapons and began walking down the trail leading down into the quarry pit.

"So, this is a perfect timed course. You start at the top carrying all the ammo you are allowed. That is just enough for a perfect run. Make your way down the course as fast as you can and hit all the targets, while following each stage's requirements." They came upon a waist high metal basket filled with rocks and dirt.

"This is the first stage, the MG-3," Rock said as he set the weapon in its place. "You will have fifty rounds to hit each of those five vehicle targets with ten rounds apiece," he pointed across the pit at several wooden targets, some were people shaped, while others were shaped like cars, both front and side views. "You must break trigger during those ten shots. It doesn't matter if you fire in exactly five round bursts, as long as you pause once before the tenth shot. Then clear and safe the weapon, bolt back and safety on."

Moving on, he led the pair to the next station. "Next is the Cossack. You see those twelve green targets? Each one needs three hits, single shot only. You will have two eighteen round mags." Leaving the rifle on the table, they continued on.

"Here is the breach and clear stage. Using the shotgun, you need to blow the door open, then engage the three targets behind it. To breach the door, you must be in the red area," he indicated the Red square painted on the false wall by the door. "Then place the muzzle against the door, forty-five degrees toward you and forty-five degrees up," he demonstrated the proper angle. "Only four rounds in the gun at one time. If you don't breach the door on your first shot, you can kick it open, or try again. But if you do use another round, you will leave one of your targets unengaged, which is a penalty."

"What kind of a penalty?" asked Revy. She was getting excited. This looked like it would be fun.

"Ten seconds added to your final time, for each target you don't hit. There are several penalties available to earn. Five seconds for a miss, or dropping my mags on the ground. Ten seconds for not hitting a target at all, or not shooting at it. Failing to follow the event rules, like putting all eight shells in the shotgun or not breaking trigger with the MG-3, or hitting a white civilian target also gets you ten seconds. Twenty seconds are safety fails, like dropping the weapon, not keeping the gun pointed down range, or leaving the weapon with the bolt forward or safety off."

"What's the difference between the five second miss and ten second unengaged penalties?" asked Eda.

"Firing at the target and missing is five seconds. If you miss all the shots, or run out of ammo before you get to the last target, its ten. Basically, as long as you hit the target once, you'll only get the fives, but if you don't hit at all, its ten. Which usually works out better for you, mathematically anyway."

"Got it."

On the next table, Rock placed the MP-40. "Here you're shooting the same twelve targets, three times each, with the MP-40. But the submachine gun doesn't have a single shot option, so it's a test of trigger control. Again, two eighteen round mags."

"And last, but not least, the Saber. Those same targets again, but its only two rounds each. Two twelve round mags, when the pistol is clear and safe on the table, and your wrists are above your shoulders, time stops." As the group returned to the starting line, a few final rules were explained.

"How are you counting hits, Rock? If we're constantly shooting the same targets, it'll get confusing quick," asked Revy.

"Each target has a sensor that registers the hit and sends the data back to the computer. The shot timer does the same thing, so only the penalties need to be added by the scorer. There'll only be two people on the course at any given time, the shooter and the scorer. Also, as you come back up the course, you need to reset it. Basically, put all the guns back on the starting stands and reset the doors."

"You just leave all that stuff here?!" asked Eda, surprised by Rock's apparently trusting nature.

"Oh, hell no! I pull the sensors when I leave for the day. Those fuckers are expensive."

Revy chuckled for a bit, then sobered. "Rock, how did you afford all this? And the truck, your new apartment, the guns, ammo…fuck, it must have cost tens of thousands!"

"Yea, it wasn't cheap. My savings are almost drained, but most of it is capitol expenses. Now that I've got almost everything I want, I'll be able to save up again."

"Okay, who wants to go first? I'll go last, so you can see how the scorer is supposed to operate, and that will keep the unfair advantage down to a minimum."

"Unfair? Since when do I give a shit about that?" Revy's tone was incredulous.

"Well, since this is a competition, I thought you would consider it."

"He's got a point, Two-hands. If he went first, the one scoring would get to see the course up close in action. That damm sure would give an edge."

"Fuck. Why didn't I see that?" Revy held up her fist. Eda did the same. After shaking their hands twice, they made their play, and Revy saw her rock smashing Eda's scissors.

"You really do have rocks on the brain," Eda said sourly.

"And you're constantly thinking about opening your legs," Revy shot back. "See you in a few," Revy cheered as she went to put on the belt holding the various magazines.

And so, the contest began. While the course was not overly challenging in the marksmanship department, the pressure of only having the exact number of bullets, combined with unfamiliar guns, exacting stage requirements, and the overwhelming pressure of the clock made it the hardest shooting exercise they had ever seen, outside of live combat.

"Even harder than some of those fights," thought Revy as she reloaded mags while watching Eda fumble with loading the shotgun from the starting area. The course had shown Revy several differences between herself and her frienemy. After a couple of runs each, Revy was showing an edge with the machinegun, while Eda was outperforming her with the rifle. Both ladies were falling short of Rock with the shotgun, particularly during loading. However, Rock was acquiring more penalties for missed shots than both of them combined.

As Revy stood at the starting line waiting for Rock to finish scoring Eda's latest run, she heard the opening chant of Sabaton's song "Panzerkamph" playing out of Rock's cellphone. The look that flashed across his face was one of extreme annoyance mixed with resignation.

"This is Rock. How can I help you, Ms. Balalaika?" Rock answered his phone, while passing the timer to Eda. As the false nun approached, Revy commented, "If Fry-Face fucks with my gun fun with Rocky Baby, she's getting a lead enema."

"I'll help, but you know we're both dead if we were to try, right?"

"Yea. Still, I hope Rock has the spine to put whatever has her calling off till tomorrow. I aint ready to call it quits yet."

"Especially since I'm holding the fastest time, so far."

"Only because I dropped that stupid magazine."

"Whatever. Ready to go, bitch?"

Revy checked her ammo belt before raising her wrists above her shoulders. A three count later and the beep started the clock. Revy was off running before the second-long tone stopped.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Balalaika, but I won't be able to get there any sooner than sundown," Rock apologized, just as bursts of automatic gunfire drown out the last of his words."

In her office, Ms. Balalaika's head snapped up. "Are you alright, Rock? What's going on?"

"I'm fine, Revy's just started her run. I've set up my five-gun course, and Revy and Eda are busy trying to beat each other on it."

"So, you are turning me down so you can play with your friends," Balalaika said in a dangerous tone.

"I never said I was turning you down," Rock hastened to explain, "I'm just explaining that I won't be able to get back before sundown. It'll take at least ninety minutes to get everything packed back up, a half hour to drop off Eda, another hour to drop off Revy and secure the gear, half an hour to get cleaned up and changed, and forty-five to get to your hotel. And that's assuming I don't need to stop by the hospital to get some gunshots sewn up on my way."

"Revy would shoot you for coming in for work?" Balalaika raised her eyebrow at the implications.

"She seems to be having fun right now," Rock said as the sound of the shotgun began to rumble through the quarry, followed by an ecstatic "Fuck Yeah!" from Revy. "And I also promised to take her drinking and to tell her the rather humorous story I believe you have already heard."

"Ah, yes. Chang did regale me with that tale. Though, I am surprised that Two-hands hasn't heard yet."

"Well, it didn't come up until today. And ever since one of your men mentioned it, she's been patiently waiting, or as close as she ever gets. So, cutting today short would likely seem to her as justification for murder."

"I see. I must say I'm intrigued about what type of gun course could have someone like Revy excited." the Russian woman chuckled. "Well then, since you can't get here in a reasonable time, and I hate waiting, it seems I have no choice. I'll come to you."

"What?! Are you sure? I mean, you're welcome to join us if you want," Rock stumbled through his surprise.

"Of course. I can't possibly ignore a training exercise that may be beneficial to my men, now can I?" She chuckled in her head at her own bullshit. She just wanted to try the course for herself.

"I'll set aside some ammo if you'd like to try the course for yourself," Rock said, relived that he hadn't angered the most powerful woman in Rouanapour.

"No need, I'll bring my own. What will I need?"

"Umm…7.62mm NATO linked. German links if you have it. .30 caliber carbine, 12 gage buckshot, 9mm Parabellum, and 7.62 Tokarev pistol ammo."

"That is quite a diverse collection. I don't believe we've any .30 carbine on hand, but we should have everything else. Maybe not German links though."

"I'm not sure if the MG-3 can use American links or not, but we have enough spent links that it won't be a problem, except it will be time consuming. Anyway, if you're sure, we're at the quarry you told me about."

"I figured. I'll see you in about an hour then."

"We'll be waiting. Good bye, Ms. Balalaika," Rock signed off.

"See you soon, Rock."

In her office, Ms. Balalaika pressed the intercom button that connected her to her second in command.

"Comrade Sargent," she said.

"Kaptain," the large, scared man responded, waiting for instructions.

"I'm heading out soon. Bring one of the light tactical trucks around. Load a case each of 7.62 NATO linked - German if available, or American -, 12 gage buckshot, 9mm para, and Tokarev ammunition in the bed. A case of .30 carbine as well. If we don't have any, send someone for some, and have them meet us at the old quarry. You, me and two others are leaving in twenty minutes. Field uniform."

"Yes, Kaptain," Boris was accustomed to sudden changes like this. "Do you have any preferences for your guards?"

"Multi-weapon adaptability." Balalaika responded. Boris heard the rustling of cloth that told him she was changing into her field uniform.

"Very well, Kaptian. All will be ready." Boris hung up the phone he had been talking on. Even as he was reaching for his radio, the thought to himself 'What the hell is going on?' But he had his orders, and not a lot of time to complete them.

Back at the quarry, Revy had just returned to the starting area. "What did Big Sis want?"

"She has some reports she wants me to take a look at. But I explained how long it would take me to get in, so she's coming here."

"Here?!" At Rocks nod, Revy continued, "I'm betting she's coming to join in the fun."

"No doubt," said Eda as she continued to reload the magazines, "How much you betting?"

"None from me. She seemed far too interested once she heard Revy's first burst. I don't make bets I'm sure to lose," remarked Rock.

"No shit. Talk about a sucker bet." Revy agreed. Then she suddenly grabbed Rock's cell phone from his belt.

"Revy!" Rock gasped, annoyed by her behavior, "Would it kill you to ask for once?"

"Yah, whatever," She responded automatically as she entered Rock's passcode into the phone.

"How the hell does she know how to unlock your phone?" asked Eda.

"Because, the last time I changed it without telling her, she got so frustrated she threw it against a wall, then shot the remains," Rock resignedly explained.

"Oh," was all Eda had to say to that. Then she asked, "Then why doesn't she just get her own?"

Rock looked up and franticly searched around himself. Seeing Revy talking to someone on the phone several yards away, he relaxed. "Eda, never – I repeat – NEVER ask Revy that question. At least not while I'm around. It triggers the most terrible rant and rage, punctuated with MANY gunshots in random directions, I have ever been unfortunate to witness. Short answer, she thinks they are a leash, and she refuses to be anyone's pet."

"Got it, Romeo." Eda had no trouble believing the description of Revy's reaction was accurate.

A minute or two later, Revy returned – as in tossed in his general direction – Rock's phone. As Rock scrambled to catch it, Revy told him, "Dutch and Benny are on the way."

Rock looked confused. "Why?"

"I told Dutch that you had pissed off Big Sis, and he's on his way to screw your head on straight," Revy laughed at the look of shock on Rock's face, then continued, "told Benny you had brought some of his gear out here and wrecked it." Her smile widened as Rock's face went red.

"Goddammit, Revy!" Rock exploded. "Why the fuck would you do that? Did you ever think about what might happen when they arrive? What if Ms. Balalaika gets offended? Or worse, what if Dutch manages to make an ass of himself? You think he won't fire your ass?"

"Relax, Rocky Baby. Dutch's smart enough to keep his cool, and if he doesn't, it'll be a bit of payback for this morning."

"And there it is. Revy wants a little revenge," Rock sighed. "So, what else are you planning for me? Besides setting me up as Dutch and Benny's punching bag."

Revy looked at Rock's face, watching his color return to normal. She could have left him hanging, but … nah. He may have embarrassed her, but he had done a good job of making it up to her so far. "Nothing," she told him. Seeing his skeptical look, she continued, "What you pulled was pretty funny, in hindsight. So, I'm done. But you're still buying at the flag tonight."

"Deal," said Rock as he put out his hand. Revy took it without hesitation.

"So, Romeo? What happened this morning?" asked Eda, afire with curiosity. Revy was about to tell the nun to fuck off when Rock silenced her by squeezing her hand.

"Eda, I just got myself back into Revy's good books. Do I look foolish enough to piss her off again?"

"Yes," chorused Eda and Revy. Shaking his head, Rock picked up his ammo and headed to the start line muttering something to himself about untrusting, wise-assed women.

An hour later, Revy was sitting on an ammo crate leaning back against the folding table when Balalaika's truck and Benny's GTO pulled onto the range. Dutch was the first one out of a vehicle, and he made a beeline to Revy.

"Hey, Dutch," she said calmly, as the chatter of the MP-40 drifted up from the pit.

"Don't 'Hey, Dutch' me. Where's Rock? And how did he piss off Ms. Balalaika?"

"He didn't, though I am curious why you think he did," said Ms. Balalaika.

Turning toward the boss of Hotel Moscow, Dutch replied, "Revy told me he turned down a work offer because he was out here playing with her and Eda. And that you were on your way here. Then I saw the heavy weapon you brought along with you."

"Ah, I see," Ms. Balalaika smiled. "I must commend you, Two-Hands. It is not often easy to tell someone something completely true while still changing the meaning completely. Well done. I assume you had a reason for nearly giving Dutch a heart attack?"

"Fucking A, I did," said Revy as she smiled like a cat that got the cream. "Dutchy earned a little payback this morning, so I figured I'd close out the account."

Dutch groaned. "That's what this is about? Jesus, I thought I'd be digging graves for you two. Speaking of, you still haven't answered me. Where's Rock?"

"On his way back up. Give him a couple of minutes, he's gotta reset the course on his way."

"Interesting," said Balalaika as she looked down into the course. "Would you care to explain the course, Revy?"

"Rather not. It's Rock's course, so I'll let him do it. Besides, I'm going to be scoring Eda's next run."

The next few minutes were spent in idol conversation while Balalaika, Dutch, Benny and Balalaika's men examined the course.

"Welcome," said Rock when he arrived at the starting area.

"Bozhe Moj! Rock, what are you wearing?" asked Balalaika, as her eyes continuously skirted away from his shirt.

"Camouflage," replied Rock simply.

"In what environment would that shirt work as camouflage?" Balalaika demanded.

"It depends what you're trying to hide," Rock said, as he held open the shirt to reveal the pistol underneath. Balalaika was stunned, she hadn't noticed that Rock was armed.

"I see," she said, "Effective, indeed. However, it's giving me eye strain. Would you be so kind as to remove it, before we continue?" At this, Revy growled, but Rock did remove the shirt and place it into his truck.

"Thank you," said Balalaika. "So, this is the five-gun course you built. I'll admit, I'm intrigued. Would you please explain the rules?"

As Eda began her run with Revy as her scorer, Rock explained the course to Dutch, Balalaika and her men. Benny meanwhile wandered over to the laptop that was running the range control program. As he sat behind the keyboard, Rock spoke up.

"Benny, please don't start messing with anything there. That machine has barely got enough power to run the program, and I would like to avoid having to reset everything because of a crash."

"Where the hell did you get this antique?" asked Benny.

"Yah, yah. I know its old. But it does what I need it to do, so hands off. Before Revy thinks you're ruining her fun."

"Sure, threaten me with Revy. That's low Rock," Benny said as he stepped away from the computer.

"Whatever works," muttered Rock as he resumed his explanation to the newcomers.

During his explanation, his audience kept their eyes focused on Eda as she smoothly made her way down the course. Eda did fumble and drop some of her shotgun shells while loading, but otherwise her run seemed pretty clean. However, she did catch several penalties for missing shots (MG-3 and MP-40), and hitting a civilian (Shotgun). Once she and Revy returned to the starting area, it was confirmed that that had been her fifth fastest time for the day.

Grabbing a set of ammunition, from Rock's stocks (She had decided to just give him the ammo she had brought), Ms. Balalaika moved to the starting line. Once there, she began to stretch out, before handing her uniform top to Boris. Now in a brown tee-shirt, she signaled her readiness to Rock. At the tone she took off. Unfortunately, her unfamiliarity of with the course and weapons smashed the confidence she had started with. At the MG-3, she targeted the human silhouettes instead of the vehicles, she was unable to compensate for the different ballistics between an AK-74's 5.45 mm and the .30 cal carbine. While her loading of the shotgun was smooth, both doors took her two shells to get through, leaving two unengaged targets. The first set of targets for the MP-40 saw her lose control and run short of ammo for target six, leaving two misses. She corrected this on the second set of six. And to cap it off, she instinctively dropped the magazine on the pistol station, earning a final five second penalty. As Rock was checking her score, she was impatiently standing over his shoulder.

"Well?" she asked, when he leaned back from the computer.

"Well…" returned Rock as he was desperately trying to soften the blow without getting shot, "While your base time was very competitive, however, the penalties killed your final time."

Balalaika's eyes narrowed, "What do you mean?"

"You shot at the human targets with the MG-3, not the vehicles. That got you five ten-second penalties for not engaging the correct targets, you missed four rifle targets at five seconds each, and left two shotgun targets unengaged. That's another twenty seconds added. Two more misses with the MP-40, and a dropped magazine totals one-hundred five seconds added to your time, putting you at last place."

Balalaika let loose a string of curses in Russian as she stomped off to threaten her soldiers about how they must "restore the honor of Hotel Moscow." All three knew that the ranting was sourced from their Kaptain's embarrassment about engaging the wrong targets, so they took it stoically.

Dutch, meanwhile, was proceeding down the course with Revy keeping score. He was doing well; except he had a hard time at the first station. His shining moment was with the shotgun.

Boris easily handled the MG-3 and rifle, but the MP-40 cost him two unengaged target penalties and a few misses due to his heavy trigger finger.

Dutch and Revy forced Benny to take a turn next, but his heart was not in it. He posted the slowest base time and was the only one to earn a twenty second penalty for dropping a weapon. His accuracy as expected was abysmal, hitting only fifty-six shots out of the total one-hundred-fifty-four.

While the two other soldiers from Hotel Moscow put up respectable times, Ms. Balalaika proved why she was so feared on her second run, by clearing the course faster and eliminating all her previous penalties, save for a few for missed targets.

As sundown approached, Rock made an announcement. "Okay, Everyone. I hope you've all had a good time, but this will be the last run today."

"Fuck no!" called Revy from the starting line. "You haven't had a turn since big sis arrived. You should have the last run, after mine."

"Revy," Rock began, but he was cut off by Balalaika.

"She's right, Rock. The final run is yours."

"I appreciate the gesture, but it'll be pushing it to get everything cleaned up before dark already."

"Well, what needs to be done?" asked Balalaika as Revy began her final attempt.

"Pretty much your basic range cleanup. Pick up the brass and trash, clean the weapons, and I need to pull the target sensors."

"If that is all, there is no problem. My men and I will be glad to help. It is only right. after all, we helped make the mess."

When Revy returned, she all but demanded to be Rocks scorer. Everyone assumed that she wanted to laugh at Rock's futile attempt to set a time better than anyone else, excluding Benny. Once again, betting was in full swing. Eda seemed to be the only person who expected Rock to enter a competitive time.

At the first station, Rock found himself with a left-over round, but was able to return to the correct target and hit with it. The rifle section went smoothly, and he was able to make up the seconds lost at the MG-3 with his quick loading of the shotgun. Overly cautious trigger control cost him some seconds with the MP-40, but ensured no misses. The shorter ranges of the pistol targets allowed him to pick up his pace for the final leg of the course. After a quick safe and clear, the timer stopped.

As The two collected the guns, Revy expressed her pride at Rock's run.

"Damm, Rocky! That was a smooth run, and I don't think there were any missed. If your time is competitive, you may be in the top three, right behind me."

"I doubt that, but we'll see," responded Rock modestly.

At the top of the course, everyone was gathered around the laptop, waiting to see Rock's final time. After downloading the data from the shot timer, Benny (who had assumed the duties of record keeping) leaned back in shock.

"How the hell did you pull this off, Rock?"

"What you talking about, Benny Boy?" asked Dutch.

"Well, the final scores have been tallied. The top four base times belong to Revy in first, followed by Eda, then Balalaika, and Rock in fourth. Less than five seconds behind the leader."

Rock watched as money changed hands, mostly going to Eda.

"As for the final scores," Benny continued, "by a margin of 311 thousandths of a second, Rock beat Revy to post the fastest time of the day."

The complete silence of shock descended on the party. Absolutely no one had expected this. Even Eda was not willing to back Rock to this extent. After a long moment, Revy shattered the calm.

"Fucking hell, Benny! You said there was a five second spread! How the fuck could Rock have beaten me?"

"I said less than five seconds. Four point six eight nine to be precise. Your dropped mag cost you the win, his run was perfect. No penalties."

"Fuck! Rock, why the hell did you make dropping a mag a penalty?" Revy rounded on the day's victor.

"Because mags cost money, and I didn't want them fucked up," Rock responded calmly.

Balalaika then spoke up as Revy stormed off, "Well done, Rock. You continue to be full of surprises. Now, I believe it's time to clean up, yes?"

"Yeah, we should get started. I'm going to pull the target sensors. If you all could start picking up the brass, that would be a big help. Also please bring up the bucket of wood we've been using to reset the doors."

"I'm on that," said Dutch as he headed toward the shotgun station.

"We will take the other stations," volunteered Balalaika.

"I'll clean up the zeroing area," said Eda, grabbing some empty ammo cans.

When Rock returned to the vehicles, he found Revy sitting on the tailgate of his truck cleaning the MP-40. As he was packing up the target sensors, she spoke up softly, "Hey, Rock. You did good out there. Congratulations. But I'll beat you next time."

Later that night, the Lagoon crew arrived their favorite watering hole. Bao was surprised that they chose a booth near the back exit instead of sitting at the bar like they normally did. After a quick conference, Rock approached the bar.

"Hey, Bao. Two bottles of Bacardi, a fifth of scotch, and a bottle of Jack. Four glasses and a bucket of ice, please."

"You guys are starting off pretty heavy, what gives?"

"It's story time, and Revy doesn't want any distractions. She's been waiting patiently all day," Rock answered.

"We'll, just keep her from trashing my bar, and we'll be alright."

Returning to the booth with a tray full of bottles, Rock slid in beside Revy.

"So, do you want the long version or the short?" Rock asked Revy.

"Let's start where you decided to become Rambo."

"I never wanted to become a hero. I just decided what I wanted to protect. But if you want to start there, it's fine." Rock took a sip of his rum. "You remember that job where you caught a ricochet? When we were talking, I remembered a conversation about morals, pacifism, and fighting I had with an American soldier. A lot of things came clear that night, while you were at the bar."

"You sure killed the mood that night."

"Anyway," continued Rock, ignoring Revy's interruption, "by the next morning I was ready to make some changes. I got my apartment, and then did something I know you would have slapped me for while screaming 'are you insane' in my face. The day I joined the crew, Ms. Balalaika told me to call her if I ever needed anything. So, I did."

"Moron," muttered Revy, getting a chuckle from Rock.

"Maybe, but she was intrigued. She sent one of her men to pick me up. I was pretty nervous, asking her for a favor."

"It showed," came the heavily accented voice of Balalaika. Surprised, the Lagoon crew looked up as Boris pulled a small square table up against the booth, along with two chairs.

"Ms. Balalaika, to what do we owe the privilege?" asked Dutch.

"Rock mentioned that he would be entertaining you all with the tale of his encounter with a few car thieves, which I have heard one version of. So, I wanted to hear his take, but it seems that the tale is quite a bit longer than I realized." Boris returned with two bottles of vodka. "Please, continue Rock."

Rock blew out a breath. "Okay. So, I had spent the trip to Ms. Balalaika's office trying to organize my requests into the simplest form possible. When she asked what I needed, I replied 'A MP-40, a place to practice with it, and a car to get there.'"

"You will no doubt expect this to have startled me." Balalaika picked up the narrative. "In fact, his request was so far from my expectations that I'm sure my expression was quite humorous. My cigar even fell from my mouth." Balalaika chuckled at the memory.

"'And you expect me to just hand you everything on a platter?' were the first words out of her mouth once she composed herself. I had to quickly explain that I wanted to BUY the gun, and I wanted a recommendation to a car dealer who would treat me fairly. As for a training range, I needed somewhere private. Because I had convinced myself that if anyone found out that I was training, I would be challenged before I was ready."

"Not an unreasonable fear in this shithole of a town," remarked Dutch.

"Yea, anyway, Ms. Balalaika called up Mr. Davis, owner of Davis Driving, and told him I would be coming. She was even gracious enough to have one of her men drop me off. Needless to say, Mr. Davis was more than happy to show me his eclectic inventory. After a quick test drive, and payment, I drove over to Mr. Pirucheck's shop. After I bought my 1911, he directed me to Ling-sa's shop for the custom holster I wanted."

"I meant to ask, Mr. Rock," said Boris, "I am most impressed with the layout of your holster. How many magazines does it hold?"

"Ten, stacked flat. In addition to being able to carry so many, it smoothed out reloading quite a bit."

Balalaika cleared her throat. "You were saying, you went to the tailor?"

"Oh, yes. Sorry," Rock blushed slightly at being sidetracked so easily. "So, while I was in the shop, those three wannabe punks we met earlier today decided to take my new wheels. Apparently, they thought Mr. Davis was holding it for them."

Revy burst out laughing at Rock's description of the three, but the thought of Rock calling anyone a 'wannabe punk' just sounded so off.

"Fortunately for me, those three weren't the only ones who had noticed me driving the Blazer. Shenhua noticed and decided to hold the three until I got back. So, when I arrived, I saw my new car, with a broken window, and the engine running with no key in the ignition. Shenhua standing in front of three punks sharpening one of her knives, at least three other Triad soldiers surrounding them, while the leader of the punks tried to talk his way out of trouble. As I approached, he pointed me out, saying I had stolen the car from their boss, Mr. Davis, and they were just returning it. Shenhua just smirked and said 'Hello, Mr. Rock' being completely respectful while giving me a wink. 'These three say you take car from their boss.' I must admit I found it humorous the way the two quiet ones turned a little pale when they saw how I was being treated. Of course, I explained about my recent purchase, only to have the idiot leader try to shout me down. Finally, I called up Mr. Davis and informed him of the situation. He was very unhappy with his 'Repo crew' as he called the three idiots. Over the speaker he chastised his employees, apparently thinking that would make everything alright. But I decided to make a bit of an impression. So, I mentioned how this could be perceived, especially by Ms. Balalaika. Like how it would look if a client had his newly purchased vehicle 'repossessed.' Especially when the client in question was referred to him by Ms. Balalaika herself. I told him that, even if she did know you were uninvolved, she may still choose to make him an example to others who might try to disrespect Hotel Moscow." Rock chuckled to himself, joined by Balalaika. "I could hear the blood drain from his face as he absorbed the possible consequences. He immediately offered to repair the damage, for free of course. But he wanted me to bring the Blazer back to his shop. I told him he was going to have to come to me. Then I dropped the real bomb. I told him he only had an hour, and any extra time would be paid for with flesh from his crew. Then I hung up on him as he tried to negotiate. The three punks' eyes were the size of my wheels." Rock paused to finish his drink and absorb the stunned looks of his friends.

"You ran quite a bluff there, Yaponksi." Balalaika remarked, receiving a round of agreements.

"Ms. Balalaika, if I've learned anything from this city, its never make a threat you can't – or wont – follow through with."

Revy was incredulous. "You are telling me that you – the nicest guy in this shithole – were going to cut up some punks for fucking with your car? I call bullshit!"

"Not quite. I told those punks that if their boss didn't make it in time, I'd watch as they cut parts off themselves. But if they didn't, I would. Starting with the protrusion halfway between their nose and their toes." Every male around the table winced at the mental image Rock had planted in their minds, while Rock needed to flag down a server for a towel as everyone who had a mouthful of alcohol sent it flying across the booth.

"How did they take that news?" asked Dutch between his coughing and laughter.

"With disbelief, mostly, at first. But as the minutes passed, more sweat appeared on their brows. Fortunately, Mr. Davis arrived about thirty-five minutes later, with everything needed to fix the damage. The three were quick to sigh in relief, until I reminded them that the timer wouldn't stop until the repairs were completed. Mr. Davis heard that and really stepped up his efforts. At the fifty-five-minute mark, I dropped the dull butterfly knife the triads had taken from the punks in front of them. All three of them stared at it like it was going to jump up and attack them. 'Well,' I asked them, 'Who's going first?'" Rock looked around, surprised that most of the Yellow Flags patrons, including Bao, were now gathered around the booth, enthralled by the story.

"When no one made a move to pick up the knife, I called out to one of the food stalls for a set of plastic gloves, but only got a set of cooking chopsticks. I gave a shrug, and pointed to the leader. Two of the Triad soldiers grabbed him and stood him up. He screeched out in fear, 'What are you doing?!' I gave him my best impression of Revy's killer smile and told him, 'I told you what would happen if you didn't man up.' He started screaming about how he was sorry, but I pointed out that he was only sorry about getting caught. One of the soldiers pulled down his pants as Shenhua passed me one of her Kukris. The poor shmuck was blubbering by the time I grabbed his ball sack with the chopsticks. Then I brought the knife down slowly, shaving some of his pubes in the process. Then, just as the razor edge started to its way through flesh, Mr. Davis shouted 'I'm finished!' I stopped the surgery and wiped the knife off on the punk's shoulder. The pansy took one look at the red line across the base of his pecker and passed the fuck out."

Rocks entire audience chuckled at the reaction. And most of the males found themselves agreeing that they didn't blame the kid for fainting.

"After that, things wrapped up pretty quickly. The two conscious punks dragged their leader off, leaving their collection of weapons behind. Mr. Davis made another round of apologies. After he left, I thanked Shenhua and the Triad soldiers and collected my new stash of guns. Of course, the next day I stopped by Boss Chang's office to offer my thanks again. He grilled me pretty good for details, but didn't charge me for his soldier's time." Rock leaned back as his friends absorbed the retelling.

"Oh…My…God!" Revy exclaimed. "No wonder that kid pissed himself today. You really did go mafia don on them."

"No doubt," agreed Dutch.

"As ever, Yaponski, you are full of surprises." Balalaika raised her glass of vodka. "A toast. To Rock, the only person in this city to ever hold the titles of nicest and craziest person at the same time."

"Here! Here!" and "To Rock" resounded throughout the bar.

At the end of the night, Rock supported a very drunk Revy to the door of her room at the Lagoon headquarters.

"I gotta admit, Rock," Revy slurred, "today was a pretty fucking fun. You sure know how to show a girl a good time."

"Yeah, this was a pretty good date." That word quickly sobered Revy up.

"Who there, cowboy. This wasn't a date."

"Maybe not to you, but that's not how I saw it."

Revy grabbed Rock's shirt and slammed him up against the wall. Showing her most intimidating face, she growled, "This was NOT a date, understand?"

Rock nodded, "You're right." At this Revy relaxed slightly. "If it were a date, it would have ended like this." Rock quickly pressed his lips against Revy's. "That's better," he smirked as Revy stumbled back to get some distance, "Now it definitely feels like a date."

Before Revy could recover from her shock, Rock ducked out the back door. He was slightly scared that Revy would cover her embarrassment with gunfire. Whistling to himself, Rock was pleased that his plan had been such a success, despite the extra people. But on second thought, they did serve to keep Revy relaxed all day. As he rounded to the driver's side of his Blazer, his train of thought was disrupted by the sound of a pistol cocking.