Rock...

"You've got to be kidding me."

Vandalized?

His nearly empty place looked like the thieves took stuff in from the garbage outside and dumped it all over his bed, the floor and in the bathroom. His mini-fridge was turned over and all the liquor in it stolen. The door was left wide open when he arrived and it looked closer to the truth that the front door was kicked in since the hinges were barely doing a good job holding it up. He had no way of knowing how long his place had been hit but thankfully, there was no one else here when he got home, no blood (that he could see) was on the surfaces either.

Culturally, he was used to taking his shoes off as soon as he closed the door behind him, now, he was forced to keep them on. Rock walked with caution as broken bottles with jagged sharp teeth laid scattered patiently on the floor as if they were waiting for him to make a misstep to breach his leather defenses. He didn't really have anything in here to be had but still, this was the cherry on top of a 'fantastic' day. He reached into his pocket for his cigarette pack, flips it open then crumples the box in his fist.

Empty!

Was he expecting to be robbed (if this can be considered a robbery)? Well, he hadn't crossed it off his list of the 'things to experience while in Roanapurr'. Things like these are common but honestly, he was really looking forward to a nice quiet work evening. It might have been a crackhead that broke in looking for food he didn't keep and since he didn't have a stove to cook, he usually just did take out or grab a breakfast pack to eat on his way to the office.

Folder still tucked to his side, he was contemplating whether to look if the accounting calculator was still in here or with its new owner when he heard footsteps at the doorway. By this time, he was just coming from what was left of the bathroom and its fixtures.

There were four men and all were dressed in tailored suits, sunglasses, and black shoes so shiny they reflected light from the fading sun spilling through the one windowed-bedroom. Clearly moneyed;

Russians.

Their faces did a three-sixty around the room before landing on him.

In a thick Russian accent, the one in front asked slowly, " Mr. Rock?"

A hulking brute of more than six and a half feet tall with wide shoulders and legs like tree trunks. He dwarfed his companions who were all taller than Rock.

"Yes, it is," Rock answered, his tone calm and professional as always. He had to tilt his head back to meet the man's eyes.

"Kapitan requests your presence at the Hotel." With his hand gesturing towards the hallway in a sweeping motion the man continued in a courteous manner uncharacteristic for a person of his size, "If you please."

"Of course." Rock nodded curtly, though honestly, he didn't know why Ms. Balalika wanted to see him.

Not like I have a choice in the matter now anyway.

The 'Queen Of Roanapurr' didn't request anything. She demanded and she received.

On their way out, another of the men twirled his index finger towards the room, " Messy uninvited guests?" He asked, a suggestion of a smile on his face.

"Yeah, something like that," Rock answered absently, his mind turning over the possibilities of what this was all about.

I've changed my mind. He thought, misery creeping into his veins like a disease, refusing to leave him be. My day had not ended, it was just the beginning.

And all he could do now is steel himself for what's coming next.

Ten minutes later,

"Ah...Yaponskiye." Balalaika greeted in her signature smooth voice. By this time his escorts had already dismissed themselves after opening the double doors to her spacious office. Behind her, as usual, stood her second in command, Boris. Scarred-visage, silent and lethal, Rock didn't know anything much about him but he did know that anyone in this organization is willing at a moment's notice to laid down their lives for the woman before him. Now that is power. Frightening power.

Every word from Balalaika's lips can either be a concoctive mix of charisma and business or danger and an order to end a life (lives) depending on the situation. She was sitting at her desk with a lone lamp breaking up the darken office shadows. In some corners, Rock could barely see anything. Though it looked as if it was just the three of them in the office, he could almost bet his life that that wasn't the case.

"Ms. Balalaika," Rock said in an even tone. "This is unexpected."

"I apologize for the inconvenience but I tried to reach you at the Lagoon Office by phone and was informed that you had retired for the day," Balalaika supplied as she moved from behind her desk. Each step was executed with panther grace before hopping up to sit atop it right in front of him; her short rose-pink skirt riding up her black stocking-covered legs, then higher still as she crossed them. Her body language radiated dominance, no mistaking the person in charge of the room and everything in it. Rock kept his head up and his eyes looking into hers.

In business, there were only four types of people;

Directs- (people who needed steady eye-contact, made big waves wherever they went - the bullshit spotters). Interactives- (the people persons with a need to make physical contact, socialities to the cure-the minglers). Steadies (are more reserved, they fade in the background easily enough- the researchers). Calculating -(everything is always controlled to a finite degree. From their appearance to their facial expressions. Every step is a process or procedure towards a goal-the B.P.P's A.K.A Best Poker Players)

Ms. Balalaika's personality make-up consisted of both the direct and calculating kind and Rock hoped he was mentally fit for this round, whatever it was.

"There're a few audio recordings that I want you to listen to," Balalaika said, clipping the head of her Russian cigar then taking a box of matches from behind her and striking it. "These are in several different languages,"

As she spoke, Boris appeared by his side putting a stack of tapes from one hand and a headphone and cassette player from the other on to the coffee table in front one of the plush settees then moving back to his place behind the desk as swiftly and softly as a ghost.

Rock move to sit on the settee to examine the tapes one by one. He quickly notices that some were labeled with names of recognized languages and some were marked unknown.

"Am I correct in assuming that the ones marked as unknown are the ones you want me to translate?"

"Partially," Balalaika informed him.

Rock furrowed his brows, a question on the tip of his tongue but Balalaika continued before he could voice it.

"I want the translations and transcripts for all of them. You'll be compensated for your time, of course"

By his count, there were twenty tapes in all laid out in front of him. Transcripts? Sure he knew how to write transcripts but he couldn't say that it was a favorite activity of his to do.

"And Rock I need them by tomorrow morning at eight sharp. Can it be done or not?"

Rock took in a breath then released it through his nose softly. Great. He didn't even bother asking if there was any other person they could ask to assist them because...well...why else would he be here if there were?

"How long are the recordings?"

"15-20 minutes," Balalaika informed, the scent of her cigar smoke floating in the air around them.

Rock nodded at that, calculating the time span of the tapes and hours left in today into tomorrow morning at eight. "Is there any possibility that any of the tapes can have more than one languages on them?" Rock asked the room because although he spoke and read several, like any activity that demanded mental focus, there was a limit to what he could put in and if he was in tuned to personalities as he thought he was, mistakes were not tolerated around here. Period. And Rock was almost mentally depleted with the day he's had so far.

He pushed that aside, another talent he's had to procure over the years. Learning to focus on the task in front of him now and rest later is a salary man's bread and butter.

"Will I be listening to recordings and doing the transcripts in here as well?" He asked.

"Of course not," Balalaika said, waving her hand in front of her face as if she were shooing a buzzing fly. "Preparations has already been made for your accommodations."

She snapped her fingers and double doors opened, revealing one of his escorts.

"Viktor will take you there,"

Rock gathered up the tapes and Viktor assisted him. They were halfway towards the door when Balalaika asked,

"Your hotel room was vandalized was it not Rock? Would you know the reason for this or who is responsible?"

Rock wasn't surprised that she found out but honestly, when?

"It might have been a crackhead." He replied, his voice betraying his fatigue a little. "But I am not sure who had done it?"

Why did her brows just arch?

"Even crackheads are afraid of Two-Hands," She said with a little smile on her lips.

"I honestly don't know why they would trash my place and it doesn't matter now anyway," Rock told her trying to keep from talking about Revy. He hated this feeling in his chest whenever his mind went back to her, a dull ache of frustration and hurt as if her pain had somehow transferred into him resurrecting his own that he's tried so hard to bury. He was usually good at suppressing things, pushing thoughts to the back of his mind and dealing with them how he saw fit or not at all. But again, he couldn't ignore Revy. He couldn't ignore Rebecca.

"Oh?" Balalaika said with interest. "Why is that?"

"I've been thinking about finding a new place for some time now," He lied confidently. Why should he move when he was in a convenient place, just a few minutes from his job, food was easy enough to get and over time, the people in the area had come to know him and him, to show them a side of himself appropriate for they're interactions.

"I see," Balalaika said.

"I'll get started on the tapes now." Was the last thing he said to Balalaika, effectively cutting all off talk and getting back to the business at hand. There will be no sleeping tonight and he didn't mind at all, since every time he closed his eyes in the last two nights, all he could see was Revy. To put it simply, he needs to stop thinking about her. That's the only way he will be able to stay alive.