Roanapur Nights

A Rosario+Vampire and Black Lagoon Crossover

Chapter 16

Wai-Sun Chang felt his blood boil as he paced inside of the office he used. Everything was practically on fire, and he was dealing with it as best he could. Still, it felt like he was dealing with an inferno while only having a half full extinguisher. To make it worse he was dealing with an impending visit from the heads of the Hong Kong Triads. They wanted to see the reasons for the faltering revenue stream.

That alone was going to be a shit show, but now his attempts at slowing the other organizations had failed spectacularly. The girl that worked for the Huang Family should have been a normal grab and snatch. His men were competent, and they should have been able to handle the door girl. They'd press her for information, get the basic layout of the building, and then sell her into slavery.

It was something that had happened more than a few times already. The other smaller organizations understood that when people went missing there was nothing to be done about it. Instead the Huang Family had dealt with both of his subordinates. If they hadn't simply left them out then there could be more problems, but he understood the message. Even if they couldn't prove it, they knew. They knew what he'd tried to do, and they were obviously prepared.

He growled as he considered the next phase that didn't work. He didn't like the idea of taking weapons from the Rip-Off Church, but he knew that they were the biggest supplier for most of the people and organizations in Roanapur. Relieving them of their merchandise would be the easiest way of ensuring that the Huang Family wouldn't be in a situation to retaliate for a while. It would at least give him some breathing room, and he could make up for the lost income through weapon sales.

He'd even gone a step further to distance himself from the action by hiring virtual unknowns. In the last two days the merchandise was never delivered, and more to the point one of his lookouts had noticed containers being taken into the Huang Family Compound. They were plastic barrels, roughly the size for humans, and he understood all too well what it was. None of the individuals he'd hired could point back to him.

So now he was stuck. He was stuck knowing that everything had fallen the fuck apart, and he was going to have to tap dance like hell in order to keep his position, "Fuck that," he said quietly to the room, "I'm going to have to give an oscar worthy performance to keep my fucking head."

This was a repeat of the situation with the Americans from before, and it was made worse because of the situation. With the Americans he was able to prove that income wouldn't be interrupted. That they could still make up the revenue with weapons, slaves, and prostitution. Now, the only things that they had for certain were weapons and prostitution. Someone had been slowing their slave trading.

They had personally been dealing with their ships, and there were no sightings of any other unknowns in the area. It was simply as if something was downing their ships, and likely downing all of their cargo with it. Each ship was bringing in at least ten million dollars worth of cargo. He'd personally upped the number of trips to ensure that they were able to supply all of their buyers. Instead out of a dozen trips, a dozen different ships, only two made it through. What should have been over a hundred million dollars worth of inventory was down to a measly twenty million.

He slammed his fist hard into the desk before him, "Fuck!" he swore as he hit it, "Fuck!"

The intercom buzzed, "Mr. Chang?"

He breathed out, "Yes?"

There was quiet, "Sir, they're here."

He straightened up. They were early, and that wasn't a good sign. The only times they were early was when they expected answers. When they were early they expected to be met with immediately. There was no buying time with whores and liquor. He pinched the bridge of his nose, "Show them in," he said as walked back behind his desk, "And ask them if they need anything while bringing them. Offer them whatever services they want, and that includes you."

The door opened and he looked at a man that was easily twenty years his senior. The older man had hard eyes that belonged to a serpent, and they were glaring at him. He knew the man, and he knew what it meant if he was here.

"Where's our money?"

The question was direct and to the point, "Tell me Chang, where is our fucking money?" he asked again, "Where the fuck is it? What the fuck have you done with it? Have you snorted it up your coked out nose?"

Wai-Sun Chang shook his head, "Mr. Chen," he said, the words sounding more polite than he wanted them to, "I assure you that what has happened is a mere momentary setback."

"Momentary?" he asked as he neared him, and Chang saw the way his hand was inside of his pocket, "Momentary? Tell me Chang, does momentary include having your personal assistant offering to suck off my associates?"

Wai-Sun Chang swallowed as he looked at the older man, "Because, as I recall, the last time anyone inquired about her it was the same as every other time. She is off limits," he seethed, "So, that's not momentary. That's selling the girl you enjoy in order to buy a few moments. That's selling a daughter into slavery to cover a debt. She isn't worth the debt you've created, so again, where is our fucking money?!"

He swallowed, knowing that now was the time to shine, "We've experienced some setbacks with the slave trading. Something has been sinking the ships before they reach us."

There was a calculating look, "And have you looked into what is causing the sinking?"

He nodded, "Yes, of course, I've checked, but there is no evidence of any other ships."

The older man studied him, "I have a friend, an American, and he has a phrase that makes sense now. He said that if it smells like bullshit and it looks like bullshit, then it must be bullshit. This smells and looks like Bullshit. What I think is that you've pocketed it. That you plan on separating yourself, and in doing so have decided to ultimately cause no end of turmoil."

Chang started to move before he felt the blade against his throat. He hadn't seen the one that entered, that meant the window, and that meant one of the special cleaners, "So, tell me, why should you be spared Chang? Why should I not tell my associate to simply slit your throat and be done with you?"

There were several things that could be said about Wai-Sun Chang. It could be said that he was a shrewd negotiator, and that would be a fair assessment. It could be said that he was exceptionally skilled when it came to firearms, and again it would be a perfectly fair assessment. But the one thing that was undersold time and time again was the fact that Wai-Sun Chang knew how to play for his own life. He knew his competition, he knew the favors he was owed, and he knew the worth his life had to those both outside and inside his organization. Currently, his worth to his organization was far less than it was to those outside of it.

His worth to Balalaika likely was higher than it was to Mr. Chen. His favors owed by the various smaller organizations in the area would be of a great asset, but they would be worthless if he didn't play the right cards. For this moment he would be taking up the moniker that Rokuro Okajima held. He would have to be a gambler.

"I know the city better than any of your would be inserts," he said calmly, "We both know that when it comes to Roanapur there are rules to be followed. Those rules have to be followed exactly, and if they aren't then it causes problems. Whatever has been sinking the slave ships follows the rules set aside by the organizations here. It is only us that have the issue, it hasn't been done openly, and whoever has done it has seen to it being done in such a way that we have no evidence of it."

He looked at Mr. Chen, feeling the knife biting into his skin. It wouldn't be much now, just a quick flick of a wrist and he would be dead. Oddly, he found himself calm at that moment. If it happened, it happened, and there was nothing that he could do about it. It was better to accept his fate, allow it to simply come to pass, and understand that it was meant to be.

"So, Mr. Chen, whoever you send in would need to learn, and learn quickly," he said, his voice still calm, "They would need to understand the rules, or they too would end up disappearing. I fear that if they disturbed things too greatly then our representation here would simply end."

He breathed out, "You can be mad about the loss of revenue, and I do not blame you for that, but you cannot be blinded enough by your understandable anger to ignore what will happen if you send in a blind wolf into a tiger's den."

There was silence for a moment, "Spare him," he said and the knife left his throat, "Do not think for a moment that this changes anything."

He neared him, "You've bought yourself time, and I will not say how much," he seethed, "Time in which you will have the chance to undo all that you've done. You will not only recover our lost revenue, but you will double what we would normally make."

He began to argue before a glare from Mr. Chen stopped him, "This is more than fair to you. You've disgraced yourself, disgraced us, and shown how incapable you are at handling even the simplest of setbacks. I told you once, long ago, that the place of power you would be sitting in meant constant vigilance!"

He struck the table in anger, "You've become complacent!"

He growled at him, "Find out who is responsible for our sunken ships, find out what has happened to our merchandise, and then improve profits."

"Of course sir," he said, "I hope that our next meeting will be under far better conditions."

"Next meeting?" Mr. Chen asked, his voice sounding confused, "I believe that you are mistaken. There will be no next meeting. If you do not do what I have instructed then my associate behind you will come to you while you are sleeping, slit your throat, cut off your dick, and shove it straight into your throat as you choke on your blood. I will not step back inside of this city while you are here."

"Dahlia, remain behind and watch over him," Mr. Chen said, "I will announce when I am ready for you to move forward."

"Of course sir," a soft voice, slightly sounding with a Scottish accent said, "I will ensure that he never knows when I'm nearby."

There was a faint breeze behind him, and that told Wai-Sun Chang that whoever had been there was now gone. He watched as Mr. Chen left, and he stood. At best he had a month, maybe two, in order to recover all of their revenue. That was just recovering it. He had to somehow triple it as well. The only possible way to do so would be to once again find a drug market to exploit. The one possible market that he could potentially get into would be meth. It was cheap to produce, and anyone with a history of chemistry had a real chance of creating a pure product. It would be something that could hit the streets fairly quickly.

It also meant that he would need to move it out quickly. That meant sending to the areas where it could make the most money. He cursed as he stood there. A slight weeping wound on his neck reminded him that he had bought time, but that was all he'd managed to buy. He needed to move quickly. His choices were limited, but either he did exactly as he was told, or he found a way to escape the clutches of those that would destroy him. Whoever Dahlia was made things difficult. She was obviously skilled. That meant that she could be watching at any place, at any time, and simply waiting to be told to finish her job.

He needed a way of ensuring that she was dealt with. It meant hiring an assassin as a bodyguard. He wanted to believe that someone from his own organization would fit the bill, but he knew better. His men were good, Dahlia was better. It was obvious that her skill outshined his own men. It meant that at best they would buy him seconds, and he needed more. It meant finding someone that would be on equal footing.

He had to go to the Miao Family and hire the current lady of the house. He didn't hesitate to stand and move toward the door to his office. Without a doubt Dahlia had likely bugged his office. The level of skill she had already shown was staggering. He wasn't going to openly communicate what had happened in front of her. It also meant that a change of clothes was in store for him. He wasn't going to stop at his apartment either. No, someone that skilled likely had already managed to put trackers and tracers on in the most used of his clothes.

That meant that he needed to get a new set of clothes. The obvious choice wouldn't be any good. That meant that the shops that dealt with the high end suits were out. His choice was simple. He had to go to a street vendor. He moved with a purpose as he walked to the elevator. Taking it down he stepped into the street and began walking toward the dock. The direction he was going was not one that he normally took.

He also normally didn't simply walk. He usually took one of the cars. Again, he was allowing paranoia to dictate his actions, but paranoia when coupled with a very real danger was more than acceptable. He moved toward a vendor that was known to selling to the lower members of various organizations. Walking up to the vendor he stood there, "I need a silk shirt, pair of slacks, shoes, socks, and decent underwear."

There was a quick glance, "Sure, sure," the older man said, "Want to trade in your duds on it?"

He cocked and eyebrow at him, "Trade in?"

The older man nodded, "Uh huh, I can resell that suit easily enough, not to mention the shoes, and I bet that your socks would go for a decent price. Tell you what, I'm generous and I'll do a straight trade, sound good?"

He wanted to choke the little man behind the counter. It wasn't a straight trade. He was basically giving a five thousand dollar suit to an asshole for a two hundred dollar suit, "Sure, it's fine."

The man motioned toward what looked like a changing closet. He knew what it was, and he shook his head. Stepping inside he was greeted with the faint smell of bleach and other cleaning chemicals. The old port-a-john had long since been converted into a changing closet. A drawer opened, and he heard a knock on the plastic wall, "So, pull off your duds, put 'em into the drawer, and then I'll slide the news to you. Guarantee that they're gonna be in perfect condition."

He proceeded to pull off the suit of clothes, and he felt the tracer as he did. It was tiny, barely the size of a button, and it was under the collar where a button would normally be. There was no reason to question it, and it made him respect the assassin that had been ordered to watch him. He finished undressing, put the clothes into the drawer, and then closed it. For several moments he stood nude in the makeshift changing closet before the door opened again. He pulled out a cheap silk shirt. It was white, in good condition, and looked decent enough for what it was. A pair of black slacks was next, and he grimaced as he felt the cheap material. He grabbed the underwear glad that they were at least a decent pair, and then he grabbed the cheap dress socks and the acceptable pair of dress shoes.

He dressed quickly, confirming that once this was over he was going to purchase a whole new wardrobe, and he would make it his own personal mission to ensure that this vendor met his end in a very unexpected and embarrassing way. He stepped out and the vendor gave him a nod, "Looks good on you sonny, have a good day!"

He nodded, and turned to head toward the Miao Family complex. Was heading there without guards or reinforcements a bad idea? He couldn't deny that it was. In truth, it was the kind of thing that screamed that he would likely be gutted well before he reached his destination. Still, there was little doubt that he was a deadman anyway. He could track down what happened to the shipments, and possibly get every cent of missed income back. He was more than confident in his ability to do that.

But Mr. Chen wanted him to double the lost income. It wouldn't be good enough to double. He'd need to triple it, and that would just be enough to ensure that Mr. Chen wouldn't send Dahlia after him. He had no doubt that she would be ordered to remain in Roanapur for another few months, to closely watch him, and to see if he slipped up in that time. If he did then he would be dead. No, his choices were simple. He had to break away from his branch of the Triads now.

He had to seek shelter with another branch, and pledge unending loyalty to them. That meant the Miao or the Huang Families. Since he had attempted to specifically target the Huang Family first it would be suicide to go there. He could potentially explain that it was merely attempting to keep business, but he doubted that he'd be listened to. No, what he needed to do now was hire Shenhua. She was the best choice for the protection he needed. She could potentially keep him alive long enough to appear to be doing what he swore he would.

In that time he would do exactly what Mr. Chen said he believed he was doing. He would reroute all of the funds into a private account. Then he would swear allegiance to the Miao family. A showing of his sincerity would be in a gift of half of the funds. That would be enough to prove that he was going to accept them as his employers. It was the best option he had, and the only one that hopefully would make sense.

Of course his actions were still being observed. High above him a figure stood wearing a cloak. She easily blended in with her environment. She watched with her golden eyes as he weaved his way away from the building. His decision to change clothes was indeed impressive. He'd understood what she had done, and he sought out a place he normally wouldn't travel to.

All of the files on him provided by Mr. Chen had stated how he preferred the finer things. This was a change that she could respect. He was acting like prey, and clever prey at that. She licked her softly tanned lips. This one would be fun. She moved silently across the rooftops, keeping watch over him, seeing his actions, and taking special note of his movements. She would not lose her target.

After all, she had four hundred years of practice.