I kept an eye on the rearview as we got off the highway, snaking through side streets and back alleys; this Benny guy could fucking drive. I downshifted as he took another hard right onto the main drag, Tuk-Tuks scattered, and horns blared as our weak little convoy blew through traffic; the port was close now, only about five more blocks.

I was watching the rearview so intently that I didn't see the Maid's second poached rig come flying off the overpass, but I heard the impact as she smashed into the Goat, sending the car skidding sideways into oncoming traffic where it came to rest on the sidewalk.

The Maid's rig crashed through a storefront, scattering terrified civvies in all directions.

I could hear the GTO's engine trying to turn over.

And I fucking froze, jacking on the brakes and screeching to a stop. My vision swam; I was barely aware I was hyperventilating as the psycho Maid blasted through the windshield of her destroyed rig, charging the muscle car as it peeled away, slamming a knife into the trunk and holding on with inhuman strength as Benny weaved, barely missing a truck that threatened to take all their lives in one shot.

My heart pounded as I tried to get it under control.

"They need you, boy….Go."

I heard Dad's voice like he was riding shotgun, and the life flowed back into me, chasing away the screaming panic. My breathing leveled out, and my heart slowed down.

"I can do that, Pop," I whispered, smiling a little as I downshifted, smoking the tires and speeding after them. I weaved in and out of traffic as the speedometer crept higher and Dutch's taillights got closer.

The psycho Maid hung off the trunk, firing shots into the cab as they roared down the crate-laden dock. The car swerved wildly, brake lights flashing before colliding with a container, throwing her into it, with a bone-crushing impact that I felt from a hundred yards off.

She ain't getting up from that one. I'll make sure of it.

I pulled the E-brake, cutting the wheel and skidding to a stop, my Glock snapped up, and I was moving out the open door, heel toeing it as I approached the stricken GTO.

I saw movement and a flash of metal.

"Blue, Blue! Who's up?!" I called out.

"One up!" Came Dutch's thundering voice.

"I'm here…" Came the shakier answer from the ex-salaryman.

"I'm alive!" Came a weak groan from the driver's seat.

"PC is up!" Dutch called out.

"Revy?"

"Out cold!"

I stepped up and sliced the corner of the hood, expecting to see the shattered body of our pursuer.

She was gone.

What the fuck? This bitch is the fucking Terminator!

I backed up against the Goat, keeping an eye on our backs.

"Dutch? Anybody critical?"

"Bumps and bruises, man."

"What about Revy?"

A groan came from the back seat, "The fuck is goin' on?"

Ah, there she is.

I panned my gun across the deserted dockside, "Rock, check her ears, tell me if you see blood or pink shit leaking!"

A moment passed, "Revy, will you just let me look…"

"Watch those hands, dumb-ass," She growled.

"Nothing, we're good!" He called back.

Something moved in the blackness, and I wished I had a fucking flashlight; I pushed out a little, trying to set up a one-man perimeter when she appeared, her maid uniform was torn and tattered in places, blood marred the pristine white apron as she stalked out of the dark.

I took a beat to appreciate how fucking insane this all was.

What even is my life anymore?

"HANDS, BITCH! SHOW ME YOUR FUCKING HANDS!" I shouted.

She seemed unfazed, striding toward me like a woman on a mission.

The back door of the Goat came flying open, and Revy popped out, swaying for a beat, shaking the life back into her limbs before drawing one of her Beretta's and pointing it… at Rock?

I couldn't hear the exchange; I was too focused on the force of nature walking into my iron like she didn't have a care in the world. But I felt a shoulder knock into mine as Revy stepped up next to me, unsnapping the clasp on her other Beretta.

"Got this, Briggs." Her voice was empty, impassive.

I kept my front sight trained on the Maid's face; she'd stopped short of us, watching with something akin to curiosity.

"You sure Rev-"

Her voice went low, deadly, as she cut me off, "I said… I got this."

Three guns were better than two, but something about her whole demeanor…I believed her…

Giving her a nod and keeping my gun trained on the Maid, I fell back to check on everyone, only holstering it when Revy stepped up fully, both guns held loosely in her hands, glinting in the dim light.

"Make a move bitch!" She called across the space between them.

The Maid stared back.

Revy scoffed, her voice full of bravado and murderous glee, "That's what I thought, you fucking coward-"

The Maid's guns flashed up, two .45's held in her gloved hands, Revy's Berettas likewise. I hit the Goat at a run, diving over the hood as they started firing, rounds snapping off the concrete and sparking into containers,

"Fucking Hell!" I shouted over the din; the rest of the Lagoon Company got real small in the twisted wreck as the two battled it out, the gunfire getting more and more distant by the moment. The snap of incoming rounds finally disappeared, and I poked my head up over the hood.

Muzzle flashes and explosions lit up the far end of the dock, and I stood there for a moment, not really believing what I was seeing.

"Dutch?"

"Yeah?"

"Did those two just take off to have a gunfight by themselves?"

"Yep."

"That makes no sense."

"Not a lot around here that does."

My disbelief stemmed from basic tactics, in a gunfight, you bring a gun, and all your friends who have guns, you outnumber your opponent three to one, and you don't give them a chance. Now granted, I was a civilian medic, but all those years in war zones, you pick up a few things.

Nobody with all their marbles willingly walked into a gunfight alone.

Dutch seemed to hear my thoughts, climbing out of the wreck and leaning on the trunk, "There are a few people here that aren't like anything you or I ever ran across in the real world. Revy happens to be one of them; she's a gunfighter down to her bones. An artist with a weapon. I've seen her hold her own against groups of guys in situations she had no right to be in, and she came out on top."

I shook my head as something else exploded, "Well, far be it from me…Alright, everybody, line up! Time to see who's leaking!"

The fight was still going on in the distance. I was kneeling in front of the PC, Garcia, poking and prodding at him, asking him where it hurt, and so on. His gaze was fixed in the direction of the fight; he winced whenever a gunshot or the soft boom of an explosion sounded.

"You okay, buddy?"

"…I'm worried about Roberta."

Must've been the Maid, "She your friend?"

He nodded and sniffled; my heart was breaking for this kid, dragged into something he shouldn't be involved in by a long shot. I patted him on the shoulder, smiling as encouragingly as I could, "Sit down, kiddo, you're gonna be alright."

I wheeled on Dutch, my anger flaring. "You wanna tell me what the fuck? What're you doing with a little kid, D?"

He rubbed at the bridge of his nose, "We were contracted to deliver him to the Colombians, a simple job, take him from one place to another."

I felt the heat start to rise, "And the fact that he's a child and someone kidnapped him makes never no mind to you, huh?"

He shrugged, "I can't afford to make those kinds of distinctions."

"You used to be able to… Marine." I spat it at him, but I was pissed; what the fuck was he thinking?

Benny was watching us, Rock likewise, with wide eyes as my voice rose.

"Remember ISIS? Remember that camp near Al-Hasakah? All those fucking kids? Because I do. I treated them, torn up little bodies, ruined souls, no chance at anything resembling normal, ever."

Dutch pushed off the car getting in my space, "You don't know a fucking thing, Briggs, drop it."

"Yeah, I'll fucking drop it, just answer me one question, what happened to you, man?"

He was about to answer when floodlights snapped to life, illuminating the whole dock.

"OSTANOVIT!" STOP! Someone shouted, a smooth female voice that it took me a beat to recognize.

Who else?

"C'mon," Dutch growled, "Let's go see who killed who."

I grabbed the kid, and we all broke into a run, heading for the silhouettes in the distance; the closer we got, the more they resolved into uniform-clad Russians, all armed to the teeth, all focused on something we couldn't see yet.

We rounded the corner, and Garcia started squirming in my arms at the sight of the Maid, Roberta, lying on the ground with Revy's Beretta pointed squarely at her face. I let him go, and he ran across the dock, sobs slipping out of him as he wrapped his arms around his bloodied caretaker; I couldn't help but smile a little at the heartwarming little moment amid all this madness.

I shifted, lighting a smoke, and leaned against the container, trying to relax. I felt eyes on me after a moment and flicked my gaze up, towards the gate. Balalaika looked like a Valkyrie standing there, bathed in the floodlights, her coat and hair billowing softly in the light breeze coming off the water, surrounded by her men.

Her voice rang through the early morning air, "I believe it's time for this foolishness to end; that's quite enough from the both of you."

I watched as Revy slowly de-cocked her weapon and stormed towards us, huffing like an angry bull.

"Bitch is lucky…" She growled.

As she got closer, I noticed her arm was bleeding; a neat hole punched through the meat. I waved her over, "Revy, let me get a look at it."

"Not now, Boy Scout!" She fumed.

"Revy, if you go septic, you're gonna lose that arm, be about as useless as Anne Frank's drum set."

She grumbled the whole way, storming up beside me, eyes still glinting murderously.

I poked at her as Balalaika came striding up, flanked by Boris and a couple of her guys that I didn't recognize, "Mr. Briggs? Trouble seems to find you-"

I held up a finger, cutting her off as I tapped Revy's palm, "Feel that?" She nodded, "Okay, squeeze my hand?" She complied, damn near breaking my fingers, "Good, no nerve damage, I'll wrap it, and you'll be good to go." I glanced up at Balalaika, "Sorry, ma'am, patient took priority."

She nodded, smirking, "No harm done. Glad to see you've healed enough to partake in some extracurricular activities."

Revy's eyes shot between Balalaika and me for a moment. I was looking for the punch line there and finding nothing. Maybe she was wondering why I wasn't getting slapped for interrupting the Russian.

That'd make two of us.

I chuckled, "All I wanted was a beer, ma'am; trouble follows me like a bird-dog."

She smiled before addressing Dutch, "Things got more than a little out of hand, didn't they?"

Dutch nodded, "Yes, ma'am, more than a little."

I shook Boris's hand as they went back and forth; Revy surprised me a little, Calling Balalaika out a couple of times, referring to her as "sis," all manner of shit I would've thought to be off-limits, but the Russian took it in stride.

"Hey, Boris, long night, huh?"

He nodded, "Da, yes it was; thankfully, we seem to have a resolution." I offered him a smoke; he snagged one and nodded his thanks.

"At least we won't be bored, huh?"

He shook his head, chuckling, "No, my friend, I think there is no danger of that."

"C'mon, sis, this needs to be settled!" I glanced back; Revy was pointing at Roberta, rage all over her face.

Balalaika sighed, "Oh very well, bare-knuckle? Until you've had enough."

Revy looked like a kid at Christmas as she approached the Maid and her charge, Garcia saying something to Roberta that I couldn't make out over the crashing waves, but Roberta nodded, let his hand go, and started toward Revy.

Someone leaned against the container next to Boris and I, bringing the smell of perfume and cigar smoke, "Mr. Briggs?"

"Yes, Ms. Balalaika?"

"Would you mind terribly making sure they don't kill each other?"

I took a drag off my smoke, "On it."

We sat there and watched as the two gained ground, getting right in each other's faces for a moment before Roberta absolutely leveled Revy with the kind of uppercut that only get described in a eulogy.

I winced, "Fuck me…gotta keep the gloves up, three-hundred on Revy."

Boris snorted, " I will take five on the Maid; she hits like bear." His accent got real heavy at the end.

I deadpanned at the smiling Sergeant, "Are you memeing me, Boris?"

"Perhaps."

Balalaika chuckled, shaking her head, "Boys…six on Revy."

"Ah, see? Even the boss knows a solid wager when she sees one."

The fight was unreal in its brutality; neither woman held back as fists and elbows cracked off faces, knees met ribs, and in one painful-looking shot, Roberta's foot got acquainted with Revy's jaw.

"Oh, holy shit…" I whispered, imagining what it would be like having to wire her jaw shut.

Rough all around.

"Shouldn't we stop this?" Rock said, just loud enough to be heard over the vicious impacts and screamed expletives.

I glanced over at him, "Be my guest, bud. I sure as shit am not stepping in the middle of that."

Roberta nailed Revy with a brutal hook to the ribs as if to illustrate my point. The two backing off for a long moment, panting.

"Why won't you die, bitch!" Revy yelled, taking a long stride towards the Maid; Roberta mirrored her, winding up for a haymaker. They struck as one…

And knocked each other out cold.

"Son of a bitch,' I growled, flicking my cigarette and jogging for the two unconscious women, Balalaika's soft laughter following me all the way.

In the end, I treated what I could, which wasn't much without any supplies, mostly band-aids on a very annoyed Revy's cuts; Balalaika allowed Roberta to leave with Garcia. A power move on her part; the tighter she was with the Lovelace family, the better. They were some major players, from what I'd been told. Always good to have the heavies in your corner.

I walked up to Dutch as the GTO was being loaded on a roll-off, courtesy of Balalaika.

"D, I uh, I got in your business back there, it's not my place to tell you how to run your ops, not even close. But if that's what you guys are about, then I can't work with you. I just-"

He cut me off, "We were contracted to take a hostage from point A to point B, no details. I was just as disgusted as you were, brother; I was already thinking about how we could get out of it without getting my crew killed."

I smiled, thrown off, a little sheepish, but mostly relieved that my old friend hadn't become a monster.

"Well, once we find a new bar, drinks are on me for being a dick."

He grinned, a rare sight, "Motherfucker, you're buying a bottle tonight, drinks at the Lagoon Office?"

"Hell yeah, bud."

"And thanks, Briggs, for having my back."

"Online on time, brother."

Balalaika whistled over my shoulder, when I glanced back, she was waving me over.

"Shit, Boss is calling; I'll see you tonight."

"Sure man, careful, huh?"

I nodded and jogged over to where Balalaika was waiting next to her vehicle.

"What can I do for you, ma'am?"

She was lighting a cigar, snapping the lighter closed before answering, "I believe I asked you to call me Balalaika; the formality is tiring."

"Fine, Balalaika, that's just a long walk, no real chance of a contraction," I chanced a joke, and to my amazement, she smiled.

"Keep playing with fire, Mr. Briggs."

I chuckled, "Yeah, still healing from the last time I couldn't get my mouth closed fast enough, not eager for round two. What did you need me for?"

She gestured at the car, "Get in. We'll give you a ride back home."

Will wonders never cease?

I slid into the luxury rig; two bench seats lined the back. I took the one closest to the driver's seat, Balalaika took the spot opposite, regarding me for a moment before calling out to Boris.

"Let's go, Sergeant."

She rolled the cigar between her fingers as we pulled away, "Dutch tells me that you were a force to be reckoned with last night, that you gave them time to get away."

"I couldn't stay uninvolved, and things played out as they did. I didn't really do much."

"Given your actions since you arrived in the city, I very much doubt that." She muttered.

After a few blocks spent in silence, I glanced over at her, illuminated by the early morning sun; she looked deep in thought, her brow furrowed slightly; she just looked so normal that I forgot where I was for a second.

"Penny for your thoughts?" I froze, realizing just who I was talking to.

Ah fuck

An eyebrow shot up, tugging at scar tissue, "My thoughts are worth quite a bit more than pennies, certainly more than you can afford."

I flinched internally as her voice took on that icy quality I was used to, "Understood, my apologies."

The silence settled again, and I stared out the window.

Her voice shocked the hell out of me a moment later.

"It wasn't always like this, you know? There was…honor in this. Now?" She waved a manicured hand, "Psychotics around every corner, mad dogs that will kill for nothing more than pleasure. Roanapur is not what it was five years ago. Maybe I'm just getting old."

It was like seeing a unicorn for the first time, a mob boss showing any kind of weakness? I had to tread carefully here, so I cleared my throat.

"This, it makes you old. I used to be a pretty happy guy; my sister used to call me a "Fuckin' Goofball." If you'll pardon the phrase. Life and tragedy have a way of wearying a soul. I wonder what she'd think if she could see me now…"

I sniffed a little at the memories.

"You lost them, didn't you?" Her voice was surprisingly gentle.

I blinked hard, trying to keep the tears out of my voice, staring out the window; I couldn't look at her; if there was pity in her eyes, I wouldn't be able to take it, "Yes, I did. A long time ago now, I had twenty-two good years with my family, one with the woman I was going to marry. But life had a different idea."

I could feel her watching me, boring a hole in my skull with her gaze. I continued when she didn't say anything.

"I'm sure that's pretty tame compared to some of the stories here."

After a long moment, she spoke.

"One cannot compare one tragedy to another; it's a fallacy; it affects us the way it does; each is the end of a world and the beginning of something else. Each horror unique, each nightmare tailor-made."

I nodded, still not trusting myself to look at her, "All we can do is pick up and drive on. That was… almost poetic."

The reflection of the scarred mob boss smiled, "To quote someone I know, "Sometimes I impress."

I smiled, the memories fading a bit, "Sounds like a smart guy."

"Jury's still out." She riposted with a chuckle.

Silence lapsed again as we pulled up to the clinic.

I reached for the door, finally glancing back at her, "Thank you for the ride, I'm going to try and get some sleep, but your guys have my cell if there's an emergency."

She offered me a smile, one that actually reached her eyes, "Be safe, Zack, we'll be in touch.

"You too, Balalaika."

The sweltering heat greeted me; I'd been able to ignore it during the fight, now the humidity came roaring back; I thumped on the roof gently and waved to Boris as they pulled away, digging for my keys and sliding them into the lock, glad to be home.

I still hadn't gotten that fucking drink…I stomped up the stairs, eager for a shower, shedding my clothes as soon as I crossed the threshold.

The hot water washed over me, leaving trails in the soot and grime on my face; a couple of cuts made themselves known, probably from the glass when I'd blown out the windows shooting at the Maid, maybe bits of flying headrest.

I was currently in the throes of something shameful, something that would ruin me if it ever got out.

You see, I have a dark secret.

I liked to sing in the shower.

"Je, je vais t'attendre là."

Dogs howled, and women gnashed their teeth for miles.

"Viendras-to pour Moi?"

Somewhere a car alarm went off.

"Je vais t'attendre là."

"Seulement too."

I was alone, or so I thought, so when someone finished the chorus from just outside the curtain, reflex took over, and I whipped a bottle of shampoo at the curtain at just under the speed of sound.

"Seuleeeeeement too!"

"FUCKING HELL!"

THUNK!

"OW… FUCK!"

Eda?

"Blackwater?! The fuck?"

"I think you broke my nose, you prick!" Came the nasally reply.

"Don't fucking sneak up on people, you creepy bitch!"

I whipped back the curtain, and there she was, pinching her nostrils shut, head tilted back, tears leaking from her eyes.

Eyes currently locked on my junk. Her unoccupied hand curled into the OK sign.

"Nice dick, bro."

I looked down at the offending item and back up to her, a sigh exploding out of me.

"I don't even give a fuck anymore."

"Does that mean you want company?" She asked hopefully, tear-filled eyes lighting up.

"No, Eda, it does not."

"I'm injured! I demand compensation!"

I grabbed a towel, wrapping it around my waist, "Does it ever work? That act of yours?"

She let go of her nose, the bleeding seemingly staunched, "On everybody but you, Briggs."

I gently pushed her aside, ignoring the hand on my ass, grabbed my straight razor, and set about cleaning the five o clock shadow from my face. Eda huffed when I didn't react, taking a seat on the toilet and watching me shave.

"So what brings you by?"

She plays with her nails a little, "Well, I wanted to come see you as soon as I heard about those Mexican pricks." Her eyes turned dark, "But the Russians had the place locked down, and it would look a little off if I showed up out of the blue."

I splashed some water on my face, "Smart move; Balalaika isn't a dope; two and two are never real far apart for her." I swiped the razor over my cheek, "Eda, listen, about the other day, I know you said not to kick myself, but I have been."

I glanced up, and her eyes were locked on mine in the mirror," I…I'm sorry. I know that our jokes carry some weight; it ain't all kidding around for you. I just…" I set the straight edge down and sighed, staring at the sink, "I wish I could be that guy for you, you know why I can't. None of that excuses using you as a cuddle buddy, knowing full well what's up. You're one of my best friends, and I hope that you can forgive me…"

Of all the things I was ready for, a gentle pair of hands looping around me wasn't one of them; I could feel her breasts against my back through the thin t-shirt she wore, her breath on my neck raised goosebumps.

My iron resolve was starting to show some wear.

She slowly grabbed the razor as I stiffened, "Mind if I finish up?"

I shook my head slowly; the truth was my shoulder still throbbed…

Sure… that was why.

Her off-hand nudged my hip until I turned, looking into her eyes, meeting brilliant blue with green, lips curled into a smile, her blond hair held back by a deep blue headband, and her pretty face on full display.

She swiped the razor over my throat, holding the skin taut and skimming my scars with the well-honed blade. More goosebumps followed at the gentle caress of her fingers.

It's not fair to her. None of this is.

"I forgave you the moment you asked me to stay. I can't stay angry at you, Zack, no matter how much I try. It hurts a little, but I know you, have for years, I know why you are the way you are… And I care about you, all the same, love you even. You are who you are, a good man who got beat up, big time, and the world just never stopped beating you. I suppose that's it in a nutshell; you drive on no matter what, not a soul walking would've blamed you if you'd suck started your gun…after."

The blade slid over my face with caring precision as she continued.

"But you didn't, hell, I bet the thought never even occurred to you. You never took the easy way out. That's why I feel the way I do because you just keep popping back up no matter how hard you get hit. Makes a girl wonder if you could be half as devoted to her as you are to staying alive, come what may, what kind of amazing that would be."

She gently dragged the blade up my chin, "Aaand… done. Not bad work if I do say so myself." A brilliant smile lit up her face, sadness at the edges that I'd have to be blind to miss.

I don't deserve you, Eda.

I wrenched my gaze away from her, back to the mirror; she was right; she did do good work.

"Thank you." I flicked my eyes up to meet hers, "You're too good for me, you know that, right?"

She smiled toothily, "You'll never convince me of that one Zack, might as well stop trying."

I smirked back at her, "Yeah, I'll cotton onto it one of these days, listen, hun, I'm beat, long night."

"Yeah, I heard about your maid problem. Do you need me to stay?"

Her face was begging me for something. I took the route less painful.

"No, I'll be okay. Thank you."

Barely perceptible relief flashed through her eyes, "If you're sure, well, I guess I'll head out," She closed the gap and wrapped her arms around me, laying her head on my chest, "I'm glad you're okay."

I held her for a moment longer than was strictly appropriate, "Me too, Eda." I squeezed her tight and let her go. With one more brilliant smile, she walked out of the bathroom; a moment later, I heard her little sneakers hitting the wood of the staircase, followed by the front door closing behind her. I leaned on the sink and ran a hand through my damp hair.

I was a fool in more ways than I was comfortable with.

I slipped on a pair of boxers and climbed into bed, the cool air from the overhead fan fighting the good fight against the oppressive heat outside.

Eda's sweet smile flashed across my mind as I drifted off.

It was dark when I stirred; the ceiling fan won the battle; the room wasn't an oven, one more thing I was thankful for. I grabbed for my cell, no missed calls and nothing exploding, just Dutch making sure I was still coming tonight.

I tapped out a quick message.

I gotta find a bottle; then I'll be on my way.

I threw on some clothes, tucking my Glock and two spare mags before heading out, smoking as I walked Roanapur at night. The heat had ebbed, but the humidity was the same, sweat already running down my neck. I took in the old buildings, the side streets where the hookers stood and smoked, the children asleep under what cover they could find, the real casualties of the wars fought on these streets. A liquor store called out to me from the next intersection, and I crossed against the light. It took me a few minutes to gather everything, but I walked out as prepared as I could be to drink with Dutch and Revy, hailing a tuk-tuk for the ride across town.

I sat in silence, just reflecting on the new world I'd found myself in, the bay stretched into the Pacific beyond, a light breeze hitting my face. I wondered where I'd be right now if things had been different. I let my mind wander; by now, we'd have a couple of kids, coming home after a day doing Ambulance runs and clinical work, making dinner for my little family on those nights when Angie was beat. Getting together with my family on the holidays, it all seemed so beautiful.

A dream that would never be realized.

"We're here."

I'd been so lost in the life I'd never had that I'd barely noticed us pulling up to Dutch's spot. I paid the driver and stepped onto the curb, knocking on the door to the two-story building; bars adorned the windows; it looked like a pawn shop in a rough neighborhood.

The door swung open, revealing the same blonde guy from this morning—a mile-wide smile on his face.

"Hey! Zack, right?"

I smiled back, "Yeah, man, you must be Benny?"

"That's the rumor; sorry we didn't get properly introduced; car wrecks and psycho maids tend to put a damper on social graces."

I waved him off, "No worries, man, Dutch and them around?"

He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, " Yeah, they got started early, c'mon in."

I followed him through a small office, a card table at the center. An open door to in a far corner led to what looked like a bank of computers. I could already hear Revy as we headed for the back.

"This is bullshit Dutch; Chang can't do his own dirty work?"

A long-suffering sigh, "Revy, we can't snub Chang, and you know it."

"Ugh, fine, but something smells real fuckin' ugly here."

I poked my head into the room after Benny, Rock and Revy were on the couch, drinks already in hand, Dutch was sitting off to the side.

"Howdy guys and gal. Brought the booze!"

Dutch raised his glass, "There goes the fuckin' neighborhood."

I grinned, "Isn't that supposed to be my line?"

He grinned right back, "Fuck yourself, white-boy."

Revy dropped her head back onto the couch, looking up at me, "Oh good, the fuckin' Boy Scout showed up."

"How's the arm, Revy?"

She flipped me off and went back to drinking.

"Fair enough, Hey Rock."

His smile was million-watt if a little drunk, "Hey Zack, how's business?"

I set the bags on the table, pulling out the rum, smiling as Revy's eyes went a little wide; I'd grabbed a gallon of the shit.

"Ah ya know, just settling into this shit hole, it's been a few weeks since anyone shot at me and got results, I'd say shit's looking up."

Rock snorted, and Revy rolled her eyes, "Any chance of ending this circle jerk and getting the party going?"

I gently elbowed Dutch, "She always this much fun?"

Revy came off the couch quick; her eyes looked a little murderous, "You got something to say?"

I smiled, pouring a tumbler of straight rum, and pushing it at her, "Nah, man, you're just a great time already, and we haven't even gotten started." I tapped the glass on the table, spilling a little of the smoky liquid, "There…peace offering."

Her angry expression fled at the sight of the topped off glass, replaced by a toothy smile. "Fine, but the night's still young."

The one-eighty made me laugh as I poured my own drink, shaking the bottle at Rock, who declined with a shake of his own half-full glass, "And if I don't get twisted, it's a fucking waste."

The gunfighter's smile widened, "Amen, baby! Let's get fucked up!"

Revy and I stared each other down; the atmosphere had gone from jovial to dangerous real fucking quick. Rock stood off to the side, a grave expression on his face, one hand raised, the other holding a stopwatch.

Our guns lay in piles between us, completely disassembled.

Rock dropped his hand.

"GO!"

Hands flew like lightning.

After a few shots, we got real dumb.

In my defense, Dutch egged us on.

I snapped the slide cover plate onto the slide itself while Revy seated her extractor, the barrel, and spring assembly went together in a flash. I set it down and flipped the frame over, fumbling the trigger assembly a little, but seating it securely after a couple of tries. Revy was moving with a purpose; the Beretta was a lot more complicated than my Glock; I was hoping it'd give me an edge.

The slide stop went in, and I slid the weapon together, racking it twice about to press the trigger to make sure it would reset.

"DONE! Fuck you!" Revy crowed, spinning her fully assembled Beretta around a few times to really drive the point home.

I hung my head, thoroughly outmaneuvered, "Sonofabitch."

"Shouldn't have tried it." I'd never seen someone look so smug.

Rock gently patted my shoulder, "If it makes it any better, I don't think you had a chance, to begin with."

"My grandfather probably smacked your grandfather around way back when."

He laughed, long and loud, thank god for people who could take a joke.

"A fair point."

His eyes kept flicking over my shoulder, and I saw an opportunity to stir the pot a little. I jerked a thumb at the plum-haired woman currently doing all manner of victory dances around the room.

"She know yet?"

His face changed, a nervousness leaking into his eyes, "No, she doesn't, probably better for my health."

"Take it from me; even if she's crazier than a shit house rat, life's short, and it's getting shorter every day. You're gonna have to let that one ride sooner or later."

He nodded, "Solid advice, thanks, Zack."

"What're friends for?"

I slugged another shot, pulling the trigger on my Glock with a click, racking the slide again, and feeling it reset. Satisfied that I'd put everything where it belonged, I slid the gun back onto the well-worn wood of the table, digging for my wallet and slapping a hundred on the table.

"Motherfucker. Hey Revy?"

She snatched the hundred and ruffled my hair, "Better luck never, Boy Scout. What do you need?"

"Can I get a look at that Beretta?"

She smiled, "Sure," She dropped the mag and racked out the round in the chamber, wheeling the gun around and handing it to me butt-first.

My fingers curled around the well-worn grips, I dragged my thumb over the slide, gently pulling back the hammer, feeling the glass-like smoothness of it, drawing a bead on the far wall. I pulled the trigger, hitting the wall and breaking through a second later, the hammer dropping with a snap. In my drunken state, it was almost a religious experience. Satisfied, I flipped the weapon around and handed it back to her.

"Sweet piece, Revy. Custom everything, huh?"

"Only way to go if you're serious."

I nodded, "Agreed, I had this sweet .45 before my place got robbed, all tuned an' shit. Par for the course."

She slapped me on the shoulder, "Got an idea then, go take that plastic piece of shit to Praiyachat, best gunsmith in the city; he'll be able to square you away."

"Yeah?"

She poured us a drink; so far, I was having a tough time seeing the insane gunfighter everyone seemed to be afraid of, who Balalaika had respect for; she just seemed like a damaged girl who liked to drink and shoot people.

Maybe my version of normal was on a sliding scale.

"Oh yeah, he does all my custom work."

"Good shit, thanks, Rev'. "

She smirked, " "Rev," huh? Getting a little comfortable, Boy Scout?"

"Nah, just friendly, it's been a while since I wasn't in a war zone; feels good to relax." I lit a smoke and sipped at the rum, the room tilted pleasantly, "Good to do anything other than dodge RPG's and mortars."

"Yeah, but you've gotten shot at least once a week here. Learn to fuckin' duck or something."

I snorted, "Semantics."

We both cracked up a little, I held up my glass, and she knocked hers into it with a soft clink.

A little while later, we all sat around, wordlessly eating some Thai food Benny had ordered, watching shitty TV.

"So Dutch, I've been thinking."

He raised an eyebrow, "That's dangerous; what goes on?"

"I'll take the job if you're still offering it, The clinic is gonna take up most of my time, but I need the extra dough."

"Well, I suppose it's as good a time as any." He raised his voice a little, "Guys, I offered Zack a part-time gig, and he just accepted; anyone take issue?"

Rock was in on the offer, but he still piped up, "It would be good to have a medic aboard, especially with what we have coming up."

Dutch nodded, "That's one. Revy?"

She was halfway through some noodles, but she answered around the mouthful, "Sis seems to think he can hack it, as long as I don't have to scrape him off the deck if he bites it. No issues."

"Two, Benny?"

"I just run the tech, but from what I see. Dude can hang, and a few jobs here and there can only help."

I smiled, "Thanks, guys, lookin' forward to working with you."

Revy stretched, "Whatever, just don't get any of us killed."

"Gonna do my best Rev'."

I glanced at the clock, well after four in the morning, "Shit, I've gotta motor, get some sleep so I can open the clinic. You've got my cell Dutch?"

He nodded, "Yeah, man, why don't you crash upstairs? Save you the cash for a cab."

"That'd be awesome, D, thanks, man."

He got up off the couch, rummaging around in a desk drawer before tossing me a set of keys, "End of the hall, it's a little bare, but the bed's soft."

I snatched them out of the air, "Well, lady and gents, I'm out. Thanks for letting me hang."

A chorus of "goodnights" and one "Fuck off" answered me as I stomped up the stairs. The room was as bare as Dutch had advertised, but I had a great view of the bay as I flopped down and lit a cigarette, grinning a little.

I'd always wanted to be a pirate.

A/N: This chapter was a little bit of a fucker to write. Staying true to established characters and all that. Let me know how ya'll think I'm doing. Someone asked me about length. Truth is, I'm going to write until I feel like the story is told, but I'm aiming for a minimum of twenty chapters; I set out to write a deeper Lagoon fic, and by god, that's what I'm gonna do.

To all the people who wrote reviews so far, thank you so much for the kind words and encouragement; it truly means a lot.

Until next time!