Again, I apologize for cutting that last chapter short. I intended for it to be quite a bit longer, but alas, my old computer had other plans and I lost a lot of time not being able to work on it. Anyway, the reason that I'm playing the Eda/Rock dynamic the way that I am is because pre-Roberta arc, he really hasn't had enough exposure to Eda to be able to pinpoint why she's not what she seems. I don't dispute at all that he knows something, in fact, I believe Rock knew something long before the Baile de la Muerta arc, but again, before that time he had no reason to cry CIA. In this story, however, you'll see the gears begin to turn, and you've already seen Eda have some slight difficulty protecting her secret from him. Anyway, I'm done with my rambling, and I promise you, I've got a twist planned that you won't see coming! Please R & R!

Ch. 10:

The Lagoon Company had sat in silence for the duration of the car ride back to the Rip-Off church. With the image of their newest member handling a sword still fresh in their minds, none of them could seem to find their tongues to strike up any kind of conversation. From his place in the back seat between Revy and Eda, Rock could almost literally feel that each of the other occupants of the car was thinking about him. He fidgeted nervously at the knowledge while the lights of the city flew by.

A few minutes later, after the nun was ensconced behind the large double doors of the Rip-Off church, it was Dutch who addressed the elephant. As casually as ever, he pulled out a smoke and lit it before speaking to his employee.

"Rock…I've seen a lot of shit from you since you joined us, but pardon my French when I ask: what the fuck was that?"

The business man had been so caught up in his own reflections on the evening that he barely understood the question he'd been asked. "What was what?" He followed Dutch's line of sight down to the sword on his belt and understood quickly, but not before his partner got a jibe in.

"The sword, dumbass; the sword. Where'd you fuckin' learn to do that?"

"Oh…right, that." His hand met the back of his head in a sheepish gesture. "My father insisted that my brother and I be taught Kendo when we were school boys." As this new information was processed, both Dutch and Benny's jaws dropped while Revy grew incensed, grabbing her partner by the collar and pulling him so that they were nose to nose.

"You mean to tell me that while I was getting fileted by that Jumbo freak, you knew how to use a sword the entire goddamn time? We could've fuckin' used that, ya know!"

Rock merely huffed, crossing his arms across his chest indignantly, "Well, of course I knew. You don't just learn how to use a sword over night! Besides," His tone had adopted a lecturing quality at this point, "it wouldn't have mattered because my skills are rusty."

Revy grunted and tossed him away, mockingly commenting under her breath, "Yeah, about as rusty as an old anchor stuck up a hooker's cunt. Even Chinglish could kick your scrawny little ass, partner."

From the front passenger seat of the GTO, the boss chuckled.

"Alright, you two that's enough. You can settle your differences at the Flag."

With the friendly argument dispelled for the moment, the car forged on through darkness towards the Lagoon Company docks. They had to make a quick pit stop to drop off their weapon supplies before they went off to indulge in a night of drinking; lest one of the many street rats decided to rummage through their vehicle while they were occupied.

Once the gang had reached the bar's main door, Revy wasted no time in pulling Rock off to their usual stools at the bar. Dutch and Benny noted that she seemed in rather high spirits despite their close call at the docks less than an hour ago. No doubt it was because he had had one of his rare fits of charity toward his employees and had promised to pay for the enormous bar tab that would surely be longer than Revy's rap sheet if it were to be printed on a receipt.

"Hey Bao," Revy beckoned jovially to the sour faced bar owner, "Bring us all the Bacardi ya got!" At her request, he simply nodded and moved over toward his rum shelf as Benny and Dutch took their respective seats along side the gunslinger and businessman. Meanwhile, the patrons who had heard Revy's order looked over with piqued interest in the direction of the bar. The demand for all of Bao's Bacardi usually preceded drinking contests of legendary proportions between the Lagoon Company's odd couple, and many a baht had been won and lost on who would hold out the longest.

As Bao returned with the requested bottles and the first round was poured, the sound of wood scraping against wood could be heard as patrons at the tables shifted in their seats or stood for a better view.

"Hey, Rock." Revy casually twirled her tumbler as she spoke, leaning a little bit closer to her partner. "What do you say to a little wager?" It was not unusual for the pair to place bets on their contests themselves. Rock's eyes lit up at the prospect of winning a bet in addition to out drinking his partner. "What did you have in mind, Revy?"

Never in his wildest dreams would Rock have expected what happened next from the savage gunslinger. She leaned in close to him; so close, in fact, that her lips grazed his ear, and then she spoke. Neither Dutch nor Benny knew what Revy had said to make Rock's face flush so red nor his body to go so rigid, but he was positive that if they had heard her they would've dropped dead.

Revy "Two-Hands" had actually just promised him, Rokuro "Rock" Okajima; Black Lagoon's resident office boy, sex if he managed to beat her in this contest. There was no way he could write off what just happened. She was stone-cold sober, and she had "that" look in her eyes. She was actually sincere about it. Rock now had another reason to be excited about this contest. Gentleman that he was, he knew he didn't have the self-control to turn Revy down if indeed she intended to honor her bet. Sure, he'd be upset if she only wanted a quick fuck, yet he doubted she would do that to him—or Dutch, or Benny for that matter. The Company was the only family she had; the only family any of them had left. Rock found it unlikely that she'd jeopardize their friendship for a meaningless romp in the sack knowing that he would read much more than that into the significance of the act.

He was getting ahead of himself. Shaking the thoughts away, Rock picked up his glass and decided they'd cross that bridge when—and if—they got to it. With a wry smile, the businessman signaled the start of their face off by downing his glass.

It was early morning in Roanapur; that small window of time when the sun's rays blasted through the blinds and curtains meant to shield them, yet they lacked the smoldering South China heat of the rest of the day. Somewhere across town near the docks, a certain Japanese man began to rouse slowly from a deep slumber.

Rock looked around his room in a bleary state, finding that he was still a bit tipsy from the night's festivities. He didn't remember much about the previous evening after their showdown at the docks, but he vaguely remembered the beginnings of a heated drinking contest with his partner. Then, like a bolt of lightning, realization dawned as he remembered the bet.

This was certainly not his bedroom.

An ominous feeling began to set in as he took in the bullet holes that adorned the walls, the pizza boxes and beer bottles littering every surface, and the gun rack sitting adjacent to the bed, followed by an acute awareness of the weight of a sleeping gunslinger against his chest.

How could this be? What the hell happened? How the hell am I gonna get out of here?

The panicked thoughts raced through the white collar's mind until he looked down and realized that both of them were still fully clothed and a sense of relief momentarily flooded his being. It was short lived; however, as Rock's hazy memory reminded him that he had only lost by a narrow margin and erotic visions of foreplay flashed before his mind. He was unable to discern whether or not these were actual memories, or mere fantasies that his mind had created in response to the possibility that they had done those things last night.

'Oh well,' He thought, as the tensed muscles in his torso relaxed, 'I guess I'll know when she wakes up.'

With his worries momentarily quelled, Rock gently removed himself from the grip of the sleeping sharpshooter and set off back to his own room to shower, wincing as his sudden movement from the bed made him aware of his acute hangover.

Almost as soon as the white collar was out of the room, his partner began to stir from her deep slumber—it was as if her body had subconsciously sensed his absence and sent signals that something was amiss.

"Fuck…" Revy let out a low moan of complaint, "Why the hell am I up this early?" The gunslinger gripped her disheveled head of hair as a massive headache ripped through her brain when she sat up; memories of the previous evening at the bar reminded her how the headache was earned.

"Rock?" She grunted, absently looking around the room as she picked up her cutlasses from next to the bed and began to prepare them for the day ahead. She vaguely remembered that they had come back to her room for more drinks.

As Revy laid out a field-stripped cutlass on the bed, a small, fresh, amorphous stain on the sheet caught her attention. Revy's eyes widened as she realized just what it looked like and she was shocked at first, then panicked, then pissed, then back to panicked, before finally settling somewhere between the two.

Sure, she had promised Rock sex if he won their little contest, but she was frightened at the notion that she might've drunkenly thrown herself at Rock, which in turn made her embarrassed to think that her true feelings may have been revealed in such a way. It also angered her to think that Rock would have it in him to take advantage of her in a drunken state…even if he was himself inebriated.

When she had made that bet, she had intended to follow through with it when they were both sober.

For many moments, the frazzled woman tried in vain to retrieve a memory—any memory—of the evening from the abyss of her hangover. Try as she might, however, the last thing Revy could remember was staggering into her small apartment with Rock in tow.

"Ah, fuck it." Revy sighed, resigning herself to continuing her cleaning and deciding not to bring this up until she could actually remember anything. Moments later, she forcefully placed the gun on the bed and fell back against the hardened mattress, letting out a frustrated scream as she jammed a pillow to her face.

"Kapitan. Mr. Chang." Sergeant Boris' gruff voice greeted the pair as he walked into the main office of the Bougainvillea Trading Co. and returned to his mistress' side. After her meeting with the Lagoon Company, Balalaika had decided to send him out for a little reconnaissance.

"Ah, Comrade Sergeant." Her tone was as cool as ever as she clipped the end of a Cuban cigar and lit it with a practiced efficiency. "I trust you were able to gather at least a small bit of intelligence at the freight yard."

"Ma'am." Boris affirmed. "Mr. Matsuzaki was careful to keep his intentions vague, but it seems that he wishes to 'use' the Lagoon Company. I'm not sure what that means.

From his place on the couch with legs propped up on the table and a cigarette dangling in his mouth, the Triad Boss was the first to answer as he angled his chin toward the ceiling.

"Use them as leverage against us, maybe? It's not exactly a big secret that Lagoon is quite valuable."

"Da," Balalaika agreed, "Dutch and his crew would be out of business without the organized crime in Roanapur, but each and every syndicate in the city would be crippled without them, as well."

"So, what do you propose we do about that?" Chang took a long drag of his cigarette, allowing the smoke to billow out of his mouth and surround his head like a cloud.

It was Boris who took the opportunity to speak first. It was rare that the man was anything but subservient, but when he was, it was for damn good reason. The knowledge of that fact ensured his Kapitan's undivided attention in every instance.

"I believe it would be a wise course of action to simply monitor the situation for the time being."

In response to the twin expressions of piqued interest, Boris explained about the soldiers he'd seen in action and Shinji's claim that they were his worst unit. Not one detail of the meeting was left untouched.

"Well, I'll be…" Chang spoke up, finally managing to find his voice after Boris had delivered the revelation about Rock. "Even Rock's got secrets, who knew?" His forced attempt at a joke fell flat and he was once again left to gawk at the knowledge that Roanapur's favorite pacifist knew how to handle a sword.

"Yes," Balalaika chuckled, visibly taken aback as she choked lightly on smoke from her cigar. "Although…" she trailed under her breath, remembering the two times that he had dared to stand up to her. She had noted something distinct in them; granted, his eyes had always held a distinct spark that was lacking in the city of the damned. No, she had noticed something else…something fierce. Something akin to the spark she'd seen on many a face back in Afghanistan just before a bullet snuffed the spark away.

It was diminished, but there was definitely the spark of a warrior within Rokuro Okajima; a warrior who would fight with all he had for his cause until the bloody, bitter end, if necessary.

"I agree, Comrade Sergeant," Balaika snapped out of her thoughts and moved the conversation back on the proper track, taking into consideration the warnings they had all heard regarding Shinji Matsuzaki.

"It may be in our best interest to simply stay vigilant for the time being."

Well, there it is, chapter 10! Things are getting more tense! The next chapter will return to more action, along with more plotting, more of everything really. Stay tuned! Please R & R!