11:56 April 8th 1996; Rouanpour, Thailand
For once, the air conditioner worked. The spring heat in Roanapur was hard enough to deal with without the constant gang wars and drug wars. The Ripoff church had a pretty slow day for business which meant Eda could spend the day just drinking. However, she was all by herself today. Sister Yolanda didn't drink, and everyone else went home. With a disgruntled groan, she flicked her cell phone open, scrolling through her contacts, all five of them. She stopped at the entry 'Two Hands'.
"Oh god, I'm about to call Revy... to hang out. What the fuck is wrong with me?" She thought to herself. Going against her better judgment, she pressed 'Call' and waited. Two rings later, someone answered.
"Hello, Lagoon Company." Answered a tired sounding man.
"Hey Rocky baby, I was calling to see if Revy was around, but I guess I can talk to you instead." Flustered stammering came through her speaker as Rock dropped the phone. Suddenly, there was shouting as someone else picked up.
"Eda, you fucking bitch, what the fuck do you want?!" She was loud enough for her voice to distort.
"Calm down, bitch. I was wondering if you wanted to have a drink... maybe at the chapel?" She didn't sound too confident in her request, but she was sure that Revy would have said no anyway. Revy growled and rolled her eyes. Rock was busy sourcing parts for the boat, Dutch was diligently fixing its engine, and Benny was in his cave, fixing his arsenal of computers, so she had nothing better to do.
"Fine... the ship's fucked right now anyway." Eda looked at her phone, surprised that she actually said yes.
"I'll get the Bacardi." She didn't need to go far for it either. She looked under the podium to see if they actually still had any of the volatile clear alcohol that Yolanda didn't find yet. And lo and behold, there it was. She smiled and stood up to get a crate to serve as a makeshift table when the doors to the chapel suddenly opened.
"Sorry, we're closed. Go pray to some other god." She turned around, seeing a man in a brown letterman jacket and sky blue jeans standing in the doorway. He walked in and reached into his jacket and pulled out a fat stack of clean new bills. Eda's scowl turned into curious intrigue. She took another look at the man's face; the blank stare with his cold eyes seemed so familiar, but how? Where did she know him from? She nodded and smiled with a soft chuckle.
"Alright then... follow me" She turned around and walked out the door behind her, leading the man to the back courtyard near the very end of the church's property. A tall solitary tree stood at the end of the courtyard, beneath which the tree's shade dimly hid a cellar door. Eda pulled the door open and descended the stairs, the man following her silently.
"Stay close and don't trip." Eda demanded. As she continued downward, she couldn't shake the thought:
'Where do I know him?' like a broken record, the feeling of doubt kept creeping into her brain. But still she can't even take a guess. Whoever he was, he was striking a cord with her, and she needed to confer with Langley if they had a file on this guy. The thought that he might be a threat to national security was a bit far-fetched, maybe even comical, but he was at least worth looking into. At last, they reached the bottom.
"Before we continue, you need to know a few things. One, you were never down here. Two, you don't know what the rip off church is. And three, as far as anyone knows, you came here for the sermon and communal pancakes. You got that?" Her voice was loud enough to echo in the cave.
The man merely brushed dirt off his jacket. His silence was a good enough answer for her. Eda turned around and pushed the big double doors open, revealing a room with open gun crates and guns on racks. They were everywhere, and in every variety. Everything from rifles, pistols, light machine guns, and even grenade launchers. Despite the impressive collection, the man was unimpressed. He looked around slowly and carefully, trying to find something. Like he had something specific in mind. As much as he could rely on his trusty PPK, he needed something with more firepower. The dim lighting wasn't helping, either. Eventually, he was attracted to a particular box. Like it was calling his name. Approaching it, he pushed the top off and reached deep in the hay that occupied most of the space and dug around for his new toy.
Finally, he found his prize: A customized Mac-11. Complete with a slotted barrel extension, folding wire stock, red dot sight, and a vertical grip. Never once used or fired. No one would be mad enough to even try it. Eda let out a condescending laugh.
"You're willing to pay over seventy fucking grand for that piece of shit? It's a fucking Mac-11!" trying to mask her genuine surprise while watching him truly admire such a unique weapon like it was a lost piece of classic art that only he could appreciate. She scoffed and approached him, hand firmly on her hip, the other held out.
"Well, I guess you've made your pick then. Time to hold up your end of the bargain." She said. The man slowly and deliberately looked back at the nun and reached into his jacket once again, pulling out his money and placing it in her waiting hand. While she counted the bills, the man saw his way out, with Eda following close behind. The way he walked, and the way he carried himself, it all set off alarm bells in Eda's mind. On top of that, she had just sold him a gun with an insane rate of fire, modified by Praiyachat himself. 'Whatever it takes to maintain cover I guess' She thought. Finally reaching the surface, she closed the cellar door and covered it back up again with the fake patch of grass. After watching the man leave the chapel, she took her phone out once again, flipping it open and dialed a number at lightning speed.
"We have a problem." her voice filled with concern, and even fear.
"I need intel on a potentially dangerous criminal. Blond hair, about six foot eight, medium build, wears a letterman jacket…" She listened intently, hoping she could get something right then and there. Unfortunately it didn't work that way, it never does.
"Well, find it! I can't exactly wait forever on this! There's been an attack and there's at least ten bodies! three of which were Hotel Moscow! On top of that I just sold him a modified Mac-11!" The chapel doors began to swing open again, catching Eda by surprise. She forgot that she invited her friend earlier
"I need to go. Find out what you can, and fast!" Putting her cocky face back on she turned to greet the scowling redhead.
"Alright, Eda, I'm here. May as well get some spare empties out. Haven't had a chance to shoot for a while." Eda scoffed and sat down behind the crate, opening the Bacardi bottle.
"Shit, you haven't even sat down and already you want to shoot some guns! Sit down and have a drink, you school shooter wanna-be." Revy scoffed and had a seat at the end of the aisle. She poured herself a glass of rum and took a big gulp.
"So, the guy who just walked outta here, what'd he get?" Eda chuckled.
"Some limp dick Mac-11! Even Praiyachat couldn't make that thing usable." Revy smiled slightly.
"You got me there, but I have a weird feeling that guy's gonna make good use outta that thing. I met him the other night, and I can tell, he's nothing to fuck around with." Raising an eyebrow, Eda pondered what she could have meant, she never could understand her, even having had her under surveillance for more than a year and a half. Why was she like this? Why could she attract others just like her?
"Whatever you say. It's not like that's uncommon around here. Roanapur attracts the worst of the worst." Revy knew that, and she knew the city of the walking dead all too well. Being in that wretched city meant that she couldn't be "normal" if such a thing even existed. As far as she was concerned Rock was the closest she'll ever see as normal. Even then he wasn't. The fact he was still with them ment that he was ether the walking dead, or he was a benevolent monster, one who dose horrible things, but for good reasons.
"Don't talk like you're immune from it, Eda. You're just as dead as the rest of us." That got to Eda, she knew she had some morality left, unlike the bitch right in front of her.
"Good point. Anyway this conversations too fucking depressing. She gulped her glass of rum too.
"Alright, so let's say you have a Mac-11. What would you put on it, make it more usable?" The question came out of nowhere, and took Revy by surprise. But she never turned down gun talk.
"A slotted barrel extension, for more fire power, maybe a better sight than that dogshit iron sight." she took another gulp, and refilled her glass
"Wire folding stock? Give it less kick?" Eda asked
"Only if it's modified for a faster ROF. Which is probably the only way you're gonna kill anything with it in the first place. Accuracy by volume."
"Oh so like you then?" Revy dropped her fist on the table.
"What was that, bitch?" The nun just chuckled.
"You heard me, if you only had one of those M9's you couldn't hit a fuckin barn wall." Growling, Revy reached for one of her guns. She grinded her teeth, and scowled.
"No shooting in the chappal, Revy. Yolanda would have a fucking cow." Revy relaxed her frown and leaned back, resting her head on her fist.
"Fine. One more glass, then we'll go shoot outside."
Returning to his motel room, the man took his weapon and held it on its side, admiring it more. He reached down to his ankle, and removed his finely sharpened combat knife from its sheath, and began to carve something into the gun's frame. He took several minutes doing so, being sure to etch each word as clearly as he can. He scraped the knife tip with the determination of a great warrior marching to battle. Finally as he finished, he looked at his work, admiring the mark that made it his, and his alone. upon the frame he etched "This machine kills Ruskies".