Chapter 8: At Death's Door
The moment she heard the knocking on her door, Revy grabbed the covers and turned over in the bed, as if the person who had come to see her would get bored of waiting and leave. A second series of knocks and Revy groaned in annoyance. She lazily crawled out of bed and slipped on her shorts and boots, neglecting to tie up her hair. The knocking came again.
"Alright, I get the damn picture!" she snapped. "I'm coming, already." She answered the door and was greeted by none other than Ikemba, leader of the ACR. The surprise of seeing him in Lagoon's communal apartment was enough to wake her up. She suddenly remembered their conversation at the Yellowflag two days ago.
"Ikemba?" she asked, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. "Ain't you a strange sight to wake up to first thing in the morning."
"I'm not sure one in the afternoon qualifies as morning," he said, making no attempt to hide his amusement. "Remember my offer of help to Balalaika? She accepted and my people have turned up some information. Come on." She followed him out into the common area where the rest of Lagoon Company waited patiently for her.
"There you are, sleepyhead," Benny prodded her. "Was starting to wonder if you were going to show at all."
"Bite me, Benny," Revy snarled.
"Ikemba and I were just catching up," Dutch explained. "Must be, what, three years since we've seen you?"
"Four," Ikemba corrected him. "Maybe longer, in fact."
"He was telling us about the other night. Sounds like we might finally know who this psychopath is." Revy took a seat next to Rock as the ACR's leader revealed what he knew.
"I sent word to Hotel Moscow first thing, naturally. But my people have turned up quite a bit of information. The man responsible for these killings goes by the name Fritz, or Friedrich. From what we've learned, it sounds like his parents were Nazi sympathisers. Not the most pleasant upbringing."
"I'll say," Dutch agreed. "So what's his motivation for targeting the Russians?"
"I'll get to that, Dutch," Ikemba explained, almost excited at the prospect. "After the suspicious death of both parents, he came to Asia and has been selling his services since he was a teenage boy. Obviously, he works as a sort of hitman. In a bit of an untraditional turn, he doesn't just assassinate people. He's the person you hire if you want chaos in the ranks of your enemies. He's more of a spree killer than a cut and dry assassin. Reports suggest he's not solely motivated by money, though. It seems he quite enjoys what he does, finding new and, ahem…interesting…ways to kill each time he takes a new victim."
"Guy's got issues," Revy said flatly. "Simple as that."
"Well, not quite," Ikemba said. "He's twisted, no doubt about that, but he never takes a life unless hired to do so. Fritz is merely the weapon in this equation, not the attacker."
"Any idea who it was that hired him?" Rock asked. Ikemba smiled.
"I know exactly who it was," he said with immeasurable pride. "One of my men did some digging and came upon a meeting point. Several people had seen different groups of strangers going in and out over the last few weeks. When he investigated, he eavesdropped on their meeting. They're an Italian crime family, a mafia. They call themselves La Famiglia."
"La Famiglia," Rock repeated. "I haven't heard of them before."
"Nobody has," Ikemba informed them. "They've only recently been planning to take down Hotel Moscow. It seems Fritz is their weapon against Balalaika."
"So that's it," Rock said. "Balalaika is going to take care of it, I assume?"
"I would hope so. If she's smart, she'll have La Famiglia ambushed at their meeting point and keep her people on watch for Fritz. She prefers to deal with issues like these internally, but if you do happen across Fritz, I'm sure she'd be grateful if you gave him a painful death." They didn't even know what he looked like and his name had been a mystery up until Ikemba revealed it moments ago. Nevertheless, they would be on the alert for any sign of the German man or any of his Italian associates.
"That can sure be arranged," Revy said pertly.
"Delightful," said Ikemba, regarding Lagoon Company with admiration. He then headed for the door and made to leave. "Don't be strangers, Lagoon. It was nice to catch up."
"You know who to call if you ever need a job done," Dutch told him. Ikemba laughed.
"Indeed I do," he agreed. Then, he was out the door.
Revy relaxed in her seat, the tiredness setting back in now that the leader of the ACR had told them everything he knew. It had been a lot of information to process, and more excitement than they had seen in a while. La Famiglia were barking up the wrong tree by targeting Hotel Moscow, that was for certain. Countless others had attempted to do the same in the past and no matter how sleuthing or devilish they were in their tactics, Balalaika came out on top every time. Their leader would die first for orchestrating this string of killings. Fritz would follow soon after, but his death would be far more prolonged. Dutch rose from his seat and headed to the door.
"The hell are you going?" Revy asked.
"I've got a few errands to run," he told her. "Shouldn't be too long. Try to stay out of trouble, you two." Rock looked almost offended Dutch would even consider the idea that he could find himself in a sticky situation, but Lagoon's leader had his reasons.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Revy asked.
"Come on, Revy," Dutch levelled with her. "I heard what Ikemba said, but I wouldn't go looking for this asshole. The last thing you want is to get caught in Balalaika's line of sight. You know how seriously she takes it when her own people are being targeted."
"Ah, fuck it," the gunslinger moaned, pouting like a child and folding her arms. "You ain't no fun anymore, you know that?"
"With age comes wisdom," Dutch told her sagely. She just rolled her eyes as he left.
The rest of the day went by fairly uneventfully, and Revy was quick to head for the Yellowflag once the evening rolled around. Though she invited Rock to accompany her, he seemed more interested in sitting around the apartment all day and doing nothing. When she began to probe him about why he was so uninterested in what normally would have excited him, that being the opportunity to get drunk with her at the Yellowflag, he made an excuse that he needed to shower and tidy his room. Revy almost gagged at how obvious a lie that was. Still, she could not be bothered arguing and left without him. She must have made quite the sad sight sitting at the bar alone drinking herself into a stupor, but she was content. Naturally, there came a point in the night where she was acutely aware of how alone she was and she inwardly cursed Rock for making excuses to get out of coming. The more she drank, the angrier she became and her opinion of her companion and friend soured considerably.
Something was very wrong with Rock as of late. He had always been like a fish out of water, and there were certainly moments where he had lost himself along the way, but those hiccups were in the past. Now, he wasn't succumbing to the darkness within himself or gambling with people's lives, he was merely existing. If anything, he had become apathetic to the world around him. Revy remembered when he had first joined them, how infuriatingly hopeful he had been and how he had such faith in people. His emotions caused him to act in ways that put him and his companions in danger and that was a problem, but they always seemed to be able to work it out. After that, that darkness inside him took shape in the form of a Maniac, a Gambler, who relished the opportunity to toy with other people and hold their fates in his hands. Once Godswrath made an attempt to execute the leaders of the ruling factions, the Rock that still existed deep beneath the surface emerged once again and buried his inner darkness as deep as he could. These had been trying times for Lagoon, and nobody suffered or bore the weight of these trials more than Rock himself. But now, he was neither irritatingly optimistic nor disturbingly devilish. The goodness in him that defined who he was, that emotion that pushed him to step in and try to save the lives of those he cared about, was gone, now, buried along with his other, darker half. In its place, there was only nothingness. Revy did not know whether to scream or break down in tears. She was losing the Rock she had grown so fond of. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, he was important to her, and the idea that his personality was slowly fading away terrified her. She gripped the glass of rum tightly, almost cracking it, and pushed these thoughts from her mind. They had no place there tonight.
As she raised the glass to take a drink, Bao pointed behind her.
"Get down!" he roared. Revy reacted just in time, moving to the side and lowering her arm to set the glass down. It shattered into countless pieces and rum went everywhere as the bullet tore through the space where she had been sitting. It was the man from the other night, the hairless stranger in the tweed jacket she bumped into outside. He had a Colt Model 1903 in his hand that he was pointing at the gunslinger. Revy had no time to question the situation. She placed one hand on the bar and hopped over effortlessly, crouching down behind and taking her Cutlasses in hand.
"My goddamn bar!" Bao squealed. He had gone so long without an incident that a part of him probably hoped there would be no more shootouts. But this was Roanapur, after all. The Yellowflag was never safe. "You're on your own with this one, Revy!" The barman scurried off and rushed out through the side door, as did everyone else in the bar at this moment. The hairless man did not even attempt to shoot them. He was only here for one person; Revy. It didn't take long for her to figure out why.
"I'm guessing you're Fritz!" she called from behind the bar. She could hear him walking towards her slowly, but he came to a stop when she said that.
"You certainly are well-informed," he complimented her.
"You've pissed off a lot of the wrong people, asshole. You can add me to that list, now."
"I might say the same of you," he said. "As it happens, my employers learned of your involvement with some rather troublesome individuals. The ACR, was it? A little birdie told me their leader was feeding information to you. That warranted your death in the eyes of the man who sent me."
"La Famiglia, right?" Revy asked.
"Again, you impress. La Famiglia consider you a threat. For that reason, I am here to deliver death."
"Hah! You can fucking try, Baldy. But you're the one whose brains are gonna be splattered across the floor when I'm through with you."
"Death comes for us all," Fritz told her. "This is not debatable, it is fact." Revy groaned behind the bar. He couldn't be serious.
"Death is gonna come for you first, you fucking freak."
"It has come for me already," Fritz said. "Its name is cancer, and it takes a piece of me every day. I do not fear death."
"Well, that explains the look," Revy commented.
He must have been getting treatment for his illness, but by the way he spoke it sounded like there was nothing more that could be done for him. The cancer would take him in time. He was not worried about that. Perhaps that was part of the reason for his fascination with death.
"You sure got balls going after Hotel Moscow, I gotta say."
"La Famiglia wishes to establish themselves in Roanapur. The steady and careful elimination of Miss Balalaika's people will allow them to do so." Fritz went quiet for a few moments and then he took a deep breath. "I truly did relish the chance to watch her loyal followers die. Their souls left them in such delicious ways." Revy grunted like an animal, content to listen to his insane ramblings no more. She jumped up from behind the bar and started shooting. The resulting firefight would result in death, but as Revy said, only one of them would feel its cold embrace tonight.