Author's Note:

This story is meant to be a direct sequel to the story of Sweet Attack by unkeptsecret. It takes place some undefined period of time after the events of Sweet Attack. Unkeptsecret very generously gave permission for this story to be produced. Thank you, unkepsecret for that permission and for your work.

This story focuses almost exclusively on the relationship between Rock and Revy. The relationship between Chang and Balalaika is not explored.

A special thanks to sirwolfeye for his invaluable help.

Chapter 1

Dutch sipped his beer while gazing out of the front window of the Lagoon. Some time ago, he had handed Rock his resignation letter and restarted the Lagoon Trading Company. To his surprise, Revy had called him later that night to say she was in, even before he'd told her the news or made the offer. Fast forward several months and they were now on their first multi-night job since leaving Rock's employ. So far, it was going well.

The job entailed receiving a shipment of cargo in Jakarta on behalf of Hotel Moscow. They'd made the pickup not long ago and were on their way back. At the current speed it would take about three hours to get home. Dutch had noticed that Revy had been especially helpful and cheerful this trip. No matter how menial the task she was given, she had handled it perfectly and without complaint. Dutch suspected that her good mood came from the fact that she and Rock were still living together, despite her work with Lagoon. Revy tried to hide it, but Dutch could sometimes hear her talking to Rock on the radio late at night when she thought he'd gone to bed. He couldn't hear exactly what she was saying, but the tone and volume suggested pleasant conversations.

He didn't mind. A happy Revy was a helpful Revy.

Dutch clicked on the intercom.

"Revy," he spoke into the mic, "we'll be within sight of Roanapur in about three hours. Dump our trash out the back and make sure it's weighted down."

Sinking their trash meant avoiding any anti-dumping laws they might be breaking.

"Sure thing, Dutch!" Revy's voice crackled over the static.

Dutch couldn't help but marvel. A year ago, Revy would've scoffed at such a menial chore.

Dutch got on the radio. He had a few calls to make.

"This is Black Lagoon to Balalaika. Can you hear me?"

"Loud and clear, Dutch. Report." Balalaika's voice crackled over the radio.

"We should dock in about three hours."

"Excellent. We'll be waiting at the dock. Anything else?"

"Nope."

"Good. Talk to you soon, Dutch."

Balalaika hung up the phone that doubled as a radio and turned back to the Japonski sitting across from her at the desk.

"It appears your woman will be home soon," she mentioned to him pointedly.

Rock looked up from his papers and checked his watch. The jolly roger cufflinks glittered on his sleeves as his arms moved. His face broke into a smile.

Thank you for informing me," he nodded graciously.

Balalaika smirked.

Since the end of Hotel Moscow's war with the Triads, Balalaika's relationship with Rock had changed considerably. Rock was now the primary arbiter for disputes between the city's crime syndicates and was thus useful to all of them. Balalaika herself had often called on his services to advance or protect her interests without resorting to violence. His business and political acumen meant that a peaceful solution was almost certain to be found. His grasp of multiple languages also simplified communications. The result was that she made a greater profit and lost fewer men.

The present concern was a dispute over drug prices and territory between Hotel Moscow and the Italian Mafia. The Italians felt the Russians were allowing the selling of their wares near enough to their territory that they should receive a cut of the profits. The Russians felt the Italians should go back to shoving down pasta in Italy.

The matter had nearly come to blows before they had reached out to Rock to mediate the situation.

It had taken several days, hours worth of meetings, and several long nights of planning and creative thinking on Rock's part that involved creating a new investment elsewhere, but he had finally produced a deal that both sides had found agreeable. This final meeting with Balalaika was meant to handle a few last-minute details, after which the matter would be entirely settled. Balalaika respected Rocks acumen and penchant for non-linear thinking, and she couldn't deny that his neutral mediation made the meetings dramatically more productive.

Their meeting concluded about 30 minutes later. Balalaika pressed a button on her desk and instructed the Ivan sentry who answered to escort Rock to his car.

As they walked down the halls of Hotel Moscow's headquarters, Rock took immediate notice of the small number of individual Ivans he could see in the halls. By the time they made their way to the front door, he had seen five: his escort, the two at the front door, one outside of Balalaika's office, and Balalaika herself. He knew that the war had killed many of Hotel Moscow's soldiers and that many of its surviving members had moved to nearby houses with their families, but that begged the question of why Balalaika was bothering to hold onto such a large and expensive building without having to house all of her men inside. Could it be she was holding it as a refuge if things went south?

Rock shook his head. Balalaika could hold the building if she wanted, and there were plenty of legitimate reasons. A more pressing issue was what he was going to make for dinner that night.

"Have a good day, sir," the Russian said as they reached the front door. Rock's car was waiting in front. Lotton was standing by the rear passenger side door, ready to open it for his boss. Two other guards in jackets and slacks loose enough to conceal their weapons were standing by the other doors looking towards opposite ends of the street. Roanapur might be more peaceful these days, but Rock still needed protection.

"Same to you," Rock smiled and nodded to the Ivan who did not return the gesture.

"The market, please, Lotton," Rock politely commanded as he entered the car. Lotton and the two guards took their seats shortly after. Rock loosened his tie and pulled a small notepad out of his coat pocket.

"Boss," Lotton spoke up in his usual melodramatic tone, "This trip is an unnecessary risk. One of us could procure all the items you require."

Rock smiled, "I appreciate your concerns, Lotton, but there are some things I need to do myself."

"Very well," Lotton responded.

They drove to the market in silence. Rock took note of the scenery as they passed. Once out of Russian territory, they turned onto the road that would eventually lead them to Roanapur's new open-air market.

The war between Hotel Moscow and the Triads had damaged much of the city. Hundreds of lives had been lost. Several buildings had been destroyed, and many of the ones spared had been damaged beyond repair. Rock was saddened to see the city where he had made his home, where Revy had woken him up, be reduced to rubble square by square. A few small mercies had come out of the violence however.

The damaged or nearly destroyed buildings had naturally plummeted in value. With some quick infusions of cash and solid foresight, Rock had been able to snatch many of them up or secure partial ownership at well below market value. These new vacant lots had then become investment opportunities that Rock had turned into joint ventures between the syndicates. Instead of each syndicate owning 100% of a single property, each would be allowed to own a smaller percentage of several ones. Keeping them financially tied together generated a greater profit and gave a bigger incentive to keep the peace. Moreover, Rock had overseen a number of brilliant marketing and networking campaigns that had helped bring a new influx of tourists into the city. With more tourists came more money and more businesses to take advantage. A number of new hotels and casinos had sprung up.

Out of all his investments, the new market made Rock most swell with pride, because in his opinion it did the most good. The central square roughly between Triad and Russian territory housed rentable spaces for dozens of food trucks, collapsible stalls, and small storefronts. Gone were the days where safe meals could only be gotten from restaurants, and unsafe ones from street vendors selling too close to the sewers. The new place allowed most people to buy what they needed without fear of getting shot or robbed. It was one of Rock's first major projects. It had been a collaboration with the Triads and Hotel Moscow. He had proposed it and obtained buy-in from both of them. His own organization owned 20% of the project, enough to produce a steady stream of income.

After his coup, he had discovered that he needed far more help than he'd realized to keep his operation afloat. He had founded "Okajima Consultants, LLC" not long after Dutch and Revy had left his employ. On the surface it was a respectable business consulting group that helped coordinate and manage investments from multiple clients in the city. However, the "Special Tasks Group" was one of its sub-divisions. It was essentially a massive intelligence gathering and favor trading operation headed by Benny. It kept regular watch on nearly every major player in the city. It's purpose was to furnish Rock with the intelligence he needed to keep the other players in check. Between the investments provided and coordinated by the firm, and the information provided by the Special Tasks Group, Rock had been able to keep the city he loved stable and helped it regrow after the carnage. When Rock sat with Balalaika for their meeting today, he had been supported by an organization of more than 50 people including two attorneys.

Rock shifted in his seat as the car drove towards Triad territory. He could see Chang's office tower in the distance. He had pleaded with Chang to end the violence in that building, for which Chang had offered to put a bullet in his skull. Immediately afterward he had told Revy he loved her outside of that building, and feared she would instantly put two bullets in his back. She had glared at him as if he had just insulted her guns. He'd driven off in a panic and wanted to drive right into the harbor. That night she had come for him. He still didn't really know how, but somehow an encounter that began with her sticking her guns in his chest became their first kiss and the first time they shared a bed. She slept with him once more before the war ended, as if to confirm that whatever they had was not just a passing thing. After the war, she became his bodyguard and his girlfriend. During those eight months in his employ, she had shared his bed every night. Even after rejoining Lagoon, she came back to him after every job. He smiled at the thought. When he had first met her he could have had no idea what a massive part of his life she would become.

Lotton parked their reinforced Benz on the south side of the market, near the vegetable stalls as instructed. Leaving one man to watch the car, Rock, Lotton, and the other guard moved through the market from stall to stall as Rock did his shopping.

On their way back to the car a young girl no older than ten, wearing a backwards baseball cap and a dirty white shirt, ran headfirst into Rock's abdomen at full speed.

Quick as a flash, she dove her hand into his pocket, grabbed his wallet, then jumped to her right to dash away. She would have succeeded if Lotton hadn't stuck his leg out at the last second, causing her to fall face-first into the ground. Lotton instantly pinned her down and retrieved his boss's property.

"Police!" called the other guard, summoning the nearest officer. There were always at least a few at the market.

The girl started screaming and cursing in Thai. The cop hurried over and cuffed her while still on the ground, then stood her up.

"What happened here?" demanded another officer.

"Attempted pickpocket," answered Lotton.

The cop looked questioningly at Rock, who nodded in support of his bodyguard's story, then incredulously at the girl.

"Are you outta your damn mind, kid?!" he asked his prisoner.

The girl glared back at him without answering.

While the police began questioning her and taking statements from Lotton and the other guard, Rock took a moment to get a good look at the girl. She was about 3"5', short for her age, likely due to malnutrition. She was skinny, bony, not quite skeletal but also not far off. Her skin was pock-marked and red, classic characteristics of repeated sunburns. Her dark, shoulder-length hair was filthy and matted. Rock would have been surprised if she didn't have head lice. He had to isolate or trash his clothes as soon as he got home. She was weak, but there was something uncannily familiar about her expression of furious defiance as she glared silently up at the cop that he found oddly charming. For several seconds he completely failed to notice the second cop speaking to him again.

"Sir?" the cop asked louder.

"Huh?" Rock snapped out of his trance.

"Would you like to press charges sir?" The cop repeated, annoyed.

Rock looked at the girl.

"No," he answered slowly. "No," he repeated, "let her go."

Everyone gaped at him in surprise.

"Are you sure, sir?" The first cop looked incredulous again.

"I said let her go. I'm not interested in pressing charges."

The cop hesitated, clearly not eager to give up such an easy arrest.

"Well?" Rock prompted.

The cop grimaced then addressed the girl.

"It's your lucky day, kid," the cop said to the girl in Thai, "Mr. Okajima is letting you go. We catch you again, and it'll be a trip to the big house for a long fuckin' time. Got it?"

The girl nodded angrily.

"Good," the cop removed the handcuffs, "get lost."

With one last vicious look at Rock, the girl took off down a side-street and out of sight.

"Thank you, officer," Rock added. "I appreciate you doing your duty."

The officer eyed Rock, plainly unsatisfied with how the situation had been resolved.

"I took pity on the child because of her age and condition," Rock explained, noticing the officer's frown. "Thank you for your assistance," he added, bowing slightly.

The officer regarded him for a moment then nodded and said, "Yes sir."

A few dark alleyways away the girl slowed to a walk and looked around. The old, fat, blind beggar was sitting on a door stoop wearing a dirty blue hoodie and leaning on his cane. She sprinted up to him eagerly.

"I did it!" she prompted him excitedly.

He smiled.

"Well done," he softly commended, looking over her shoulder with eyes obscured by clean, black aviator sunglasses. "And how did it go? Speak quietly."

Rock and his group drove back to their apartments near the shore laden with their shopping. None of them said anything, but Rock could tell they heartily disagreed with his decision regarding the girl.

"Lotton," Rock spoke.

Lotton sat up straight in the driver's seat.

"You acted swiftly to protect myself and my property," Rock continued graciously. "Thank you."

"Certainly boss," Lotton responded in his usual tone, then added, "Boss, could I persuade you to wear that flak jacket we previously discussed?"

Rock shifted uncomfortably but Lotton persisted.

"I recognize that you took pity on her boss, but that girl could have slipped a knife between your ribs as easily as her hand into your pocket. The possibility of your woman's ire causes us much consternation."

Rock's other two bodyguards nodded in agreement.

"Alright," Rock sighed again, "I'll start wearing it tomorrow."

"Thank you, boss," Lotton nodded in appreciation.

Back in his apartment, Rock thanked his guards before dismissing them for the night and getting to work. His living quarters had come a long way since he and Revy had moved out of her dingy old place near the Lagoon offices. Their new living space consisted of a two-bedroom, one-bathroom apartment with a view of the harbor. One corner of the living room doubled as Rock's office and was equipped with a computer, printer, phone, and fax machine. Another corner doubled as Revy's gym and boasted a large heavy punching bag hung from the ceiling, assorted weights, and other workout equipment. To Rock, the apartment was a vital base of operations to conduct and coordinate his business in the city. To Revy, it was a safe haven in a dangerous sea.

Rock changed into his evening wear, dropped his suit into a plastic trash bag and made sure to tie it tightly in case the market girl had left any lice on it, and then busied himself in the kitchen after a quick shower. He smiled as he cooked. The smell of well-prepared food always put him in a good mood. It was almost done when his phone rang around 6:00 pm. He recognized the number.

"Why hello there, Ms. Oakley," he joked into the receiver, "and how many buffalo did you kill today?"

On the other end of the line, Revy snorted.

"Ha! Enough to bring home a solid paycheck, baby. Be there in 20."

"Sounds good," Rock responded, "See you when you get home."

She hung up.

Everything was ready. Rock left it on the stove on low heat to keep it warm. He strode over to the window overlooking the harbor. It was a gorgeous evening. Scattered clouds over the water did nothing to distract from the gentle red glow. Out in the bay, the rock that housed the massive statue of the smiling Buddha rose out of the water like a mountain. He enjoyed the view for a while before a bright red 1965 Pontiac GTO pulled up and parked in front of the building. Rock smiled and retreated from the window.

About two minutes later the door banged open and Revy barreled in.

"So, get thi…" she started to say. Then she stopped in her tracks, stunned.

Revy hadn't changed much since the end of the Hotel Moscow War. Physically, she was the same hard Chinese-American beauty that Rock had fallen for so long ago. She still tied her dark hair in a ponytail that fell down her back. She still wore the same denim jean cutoffs and black tank top she always had. Her double shoulder holster still carried her modified berettas. The two biggest changes were in her overall attitude and her relationship with Rock. When they had first gotten together it was as if she had hated her desire for him, and by extension resented him. Even after the war she had remained obstinate, sarcastic, childish at times, and defiant. Until he reached for her, at which point she melted into his arms like butter every time and shared a bed and home with him every night she could.

As little as she wanted to admit it, even dislike the fact to some degree, she had slowly realized that she was happier with him. She smiled more, laughed more, and was generally more easy-going around him. She'd gotten used to living with him and saw the objective benefits.

The scene that greeted her now was utterly unexpected and foreign. The lights were dim. Rock was sitting at their kitchen table, smiling at her. The table was set for two. A full bottle of Bacardi rum was set in the middle. The smell of cooked meat wafted through their home. On the stove were dishes containing several of her favorites: Japanese yakitori chicken skewers, a pot of noodle soup, and a full bowl of white rice. Alone, by heart, a rock ballad she liked, played in the background from the computer on his desk. And candles, fucking candles, were lit on the table.

"The fuck is zis?!" she exclaimed, abbreviating her words in her surprise and confusion.

"Nothing," Rock whined, "I just felt like taking care of you tonight."

He got up, sauntered over to her, and gently removed the backpack from her shoulders. Still somewhat in shock but responding well so far, Revy allowed him to take it from her and hang it up on the hook by the door. He knew better than to touch her guns. He then closed the door behind her and gently pushed her up against it, placing his hand behind her head to stop it from hitting the wood. Their lips met in a gentle and intimate kiss. Revy closed her eyes and tied her arms around his back.

When they broke apart Revy looked up at him.

"Motherfucker," she breathed, "The fuck this is about?"

"You like it?" Rock smiled mischievously.

She looked up at him, waiting eagerly.

"Maybe," she answered, pouting, but both her pout and tone gave her away. Rock had learned long ago that how she said things often meant a lot more than what she said.

Rock's face lit up. He hugged her tight. Revy rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, content.

"I'm glad," Rock responded.

They broke apart.

"Wanna eat?" he asked.

"Gimme a sec. Wanna shower."

Warm water and soap splashed over her and took one of the less pleasant aspects of her otherwise solid job down the drain. It seemed like so long ago that she had stood in the shower of her old apartment and washed off the blood of her latest slaughter-fest and plotted on how to get Rock to make her forget that shit for a few precious, precious hours. This time, she smiled to herself; she didn't think he'd hesitate.

She strolled out of the bathroom wearing pink sweatpants and a white tank top. Rock had been looking out the window again and turned around when she entered.

"Shall we?" he invited, gesturing to the table.

"Fuck yea," she grabbed a plate and headed for the food.

Revy had never entirely gotten used to Rock cooking for her. Although he had done it several times since they'd started sleeping together, it always felt too good somehow, too novel. But every time she smelled the smell of whatever he had made for her wafting through the air, she managed to forget her reservations.

And that night, Rock had gone above and beyond. The chicken gently crunched in her mouth as she tore it off the skewers. The soup was just that combination of salty and spicy that made her want to balance it with the rice. The Bacardi was the icing on the cake. To someone who had survived on canned beans for the last several days and not much better at nearly any point in her life prior, it was paradise in her mouth.

As they ate, they caught each other up on recent events. Rock couldn't tell Revy everything about his business; his client's confidentiality was important, but he told her what he could and enough to keep her interested. She, in turn, told him about the voyage to Jakarta, the asshole client reps they'd met at the docks, the asshole in the bar she'd laid out with a single punch for touching her, and the asshole seagulls who wanted her beans. Rock laughed through much of her story and loved hearing nearly every minute, especially the bit about her sucker-punch.

They put away the leftovers and dumped their dishes in the sink. As he washed the dishes Rock felt Revy come up behind him, put her arms around his stomach, and rest her chin on his right shoulder. Sliding her right hand under his shirt, she reached up and gently stroked his chest. Her left hand went considerably further south.

"So," he growled, "that's how you're feeling tonight."

Revy grinned widely.

He tilted his head back and to the right, searching for her lips. He found them eagerly waiting for him and dried his hands with a towel as they kissed. Ignoring the remaining dishes he turned around to face her. With one hand he caught her waist and with the other the back of her head. They spun around and he lifted her onto the counter. They kissed long and deep. When Revy started to feel impatient she bit down on his lip, and to Rock it hurt as perfectly as ever.

Rock lifted her off the counter as she laughed, and they necked all the way to their bedroom. Revy lay naked across his chest on the bed as they spiritedly made out. She felt a deep sense of safety and comfort with Rock. She'd tried as hard as possible to forget her first sexual encounter. Since that awful night the only times she had even attempted sex were as a matter of survival or temporary distraction. With Rock it was different. It was comfortable, safe, and deeply satisfying. The first time they had done it had been completely unplanned, but there could be no doubt that she had wanted him. The fact that she had gone back to him afterwards proved that. Since then he had become her bedrock. He was the stable part of her life that she could always come home to and find good things waiting there.

Rock meanwhile considered himself the luckiest man on the planet. To him she was a dark goddess, full of thrill and excitement. She had been the one to wake him out of his meaningless corporate existence. She had brought him into the Lagoon crew and she had saved his life many times since. She danced between bullets with the grace of a ballerina, and killed with the mercy of a shark. Rock considered their relationship to be one of his greatest achievements, and he hoped that in time it could become more.

Excited by her touch, Rock became bolder. As he reached further and further down her back he realized that she wasn't going to stop him and he grabbed one of the most alluring parts of her body with both hands and squeezed. In response she kissed him more deeply. Taking his cue Rock grabbed the back of her head with one hand. In one movement he flipped her over onto her back without breaking the kiss.

They broke apart for just a moment and looked into each-other's eyes.

"Do it," Revy breathed.

Rock didn't waste another second.

A little while later Revy lay on her back in a pool of her own sweat, gasping for air through a daze. No one could say she wasn't in good shape, but Rock left her nearly blacking out every mother-fucking time. For someone who she regularly referred to as a "dumbass," he knew quite a bit about pleasing a woman. He knew to take his time, to watch and listen for her reaction, to adjust based on her preferences, and all the parts of her that were erogenous. The first couple of times they'd done it back in the war days had been good enough. Enough for her to come back for more anyway. But he had upped his game since then.

Rock slowly clambered off of her. She preferred him on top, less work for her. As he climbed down he kissed her repeatedly in a straight line from her neck to her navel. Revy was barely able to open her eyes, but she liked this. It was like one last little reminder that she was something worth having. While she caught her breath he gulped down some water from a tall glass by the bed. He set it back down on the nightstand and waited. A few minutes went by, and all he did was sit quietly and gaze at her. He liked looking at her like this. She looked so peaceful this way. He couldn't help but feel proud of his handiwork. She stirred and half-opened her eyes. He gently stroked her cheek with his hand. She looked at him with a bleary gaze.

He bent down and gently kissed her on the mouth. Her lips didn't move much in response, but he noted how dry they were.

"Want some water?

She nodded again.

He reached for the same glass of water he'd been using. It was still about half-full. He held it out to her. With what seemed to be great effort she pushed herself into a sitting position and took it from him. She took several huge gulps and came up gasping for air.

"Are you ok?" he asked.

She glared at him.

"I'm fine," she retorted, "Tch, it's not like we haven't fucked before."

Rock was a bit put out.

"I'm just checking on you. That's all."

She glared at him a bit longer then her expression softened. She finished the drink, placed the empty cup on her bedside table, and then lay back down ready for sleep.

"I love you Revy," he tried sincerely.

Revy looked back up at him then turned away.

"Yeah, you told me," she protested dismissively, "Problem is, you know what I think of that crap and yet ya keep tellin' me anyway."

Rock cast his mind around for a new tact.

"Would you like to know why I love you?"

Revy was getting annoyed now.

"Yea, but later," she muttered, "wanna sleep now."

Rock leaned over her again. Revy didn't want to want it, but turned again to kiss him one last time before sleep.

"Goodnight Revy," Rock whispered, "I love you."

She didn't respond as she turned away from him again.