A white Ford Telstar hatchback sits parked in front of a light blue five story building that has the phrase 'Nhật Báo Đông Dương (The Indochina Daily)' on the side of the building facing the street, at the very top. Nestled right next to the middle of the sidewalk on Hùng Vương Road in the Vietnamese city of Cần Thơ, the Telstar idles away as armadas of mopeds zip through the streets, flanked by the occasional car or commercial truck. Inside the hatchback, a 40-something aged light skinned Vietnamese woman dressed in a red and white polka dot collared dress shirt and jeans, sporting long black hair flowing past her shoulders and a deep scar across her left cheek, as well as a small chunk of cartilage missing from the top of her left ear, and a 40-something aged dark skinned Cambodian man, dressed in a blue collared dress shirt and brown shorts, sporting an extremely faint goatee and wavy black hair combed to the side, each sit patiently and spy on the building. The Vietnamese woman, in the driver's seat, adjusts her pair of thick framed eyeglasses and says "Pretty quiet so far."

The Cambodian man yawns loudly and stretches his arms out, slouched in the front side passenger seat. Licking his lips once, he says in Vietnamese "I'm thirsty. I can almost dream of a beer right now." The Vietnamese woman eyes her rear-view mirror, spotting a female Vietnamese cop at the distant street corner, dressed in the usual green military cap and attire that Vietnamese cops wear, writing a traffic citation for an unmarked grey van. The Vietnamese woman in the hatchback seethes and says "Đụ (fuck)! Traffic police…street corner. Vibol, do you see her?" Vibol turns around and looks through the rear window, saying "I see her, Ngoc. I see her."

Ngoc takes out a pair of binoculars and focuses on the entrance to the Indochina Daily headquarters. A pair of Vietnamese men in black suits exit the building, each flanked by a pair of suit and earpiece wearing bodyguards. One of the Vietnamese men, average height and appearing to be somewhat past his 50s, his once short black hair now partially gray, shakes hands with the other, the latter appearing to be taller and a decade younger. A bodyguard rushes in front of the two and opens the door to a black Toyota Land Cruiser. The taller Vietnamese man enters the vehicle, followed by the shorter Vietnamese man. As a bodyguard shuts the rear passenger door, a pair of bodyguards open the front doors and climb inside. Ngoc smirks and says "Chù Thanh Hoàng…he just entered the SUV. He has some new friends..."

Vibol gives Ngoc a confused stare and says "What the hell? That is not his brother!" Ngoc turns to Vibol and gives him an annoyed look, yelling "You blind?! He was a foot taller than Chù!" Suddenly, the female Vietnamese cop approaches Ngoc's rolled down window, causing Ngoc to hide her binoculars under her legs. The cop, who appears to be in her early 20s, comes into view of Ngoc and Vibol and says "You need to leave. This is the lane for cyclists."

As the Toyota Land Cruiser drives off, Vibol eyes the cop with sheepish eyes, almost fawning at the mouth. Ngoc awkwardly smiles and nods, saying "Okay. Thanks." She sets the hatchback into drive and enters the main driving lane of Hùng Vương Road. Vibol laughs and says "She should be on a recruitment poster." Ngoc shakes her head in annoyance and says "You are going to step on your tongue." As Vibol laughs in amusement, Ngoc orders "Call Tuyết. Tell her that Trung was not with his brother. Something is strange here."

Standing in front of a bus terminal as the sun is completing its ascent, Dutch, dressed in his usual green flak jacket and green pants attire, sighs and places a SIM card into his cell phone. He looks around, surveying the Vietnamese city of Rạch Giá. Standing on the crossroad of Giao lộ Trần Phú Street and Nguyễn Bỉnh Khiêm Road, he takes in the sound of mopeds accelerating after each hard turn, glancing at his cell phone to find that the time is 11:12 A.M. As Rock, Benny, Revy, and Marty all crowd and chat several meters away, Dutch dials a number and waits, his neck sweating. Suddenly, he hears a voice in the phone, saying "Hello?"

Dutch grimaces and says "It's me Roscoe. Marion. We didn't have much time to talk yesterday." Roscoe, in his surf shop, dressed as he was yesterday, responds "Yea, we didn't. All I got was that you now do 'international transportation' in that Roanapur city. Funny how we both ended up in Thailand." Dutch laughs and says "Yea, guess that's how it goes. I didn't quite get what you do for a living. That surf shop…you the owner?" Roscoe replies "Yea, helps pay the bills." Dutch glances at Marty and says "And what of this work you doing with our Canadian friend over here?" Roscoe coldly says "Don't worry Dutch, we ain't in competition. I just hear something from friends in Vietnam, and if the money justifies the risk, I bring the stuff into Thailand. In case I want to get something very nice for my old lady."

Dutch arcs his back and says "Congratulations." Roscoe forces a chuckle and says "It ain't that serious. No ring and all. We just been sharing a room for the past seven years." Dutch laughs and says "I'd say that that's pretty serious." The two chuckle and pause into awkward silence. After a minute of silence, Dutch seethes in guilt and says "Look, Roscoe. I know things have gotten fucked up long ago." Roscoe blankly stares into space and says "Yeah, and Barry Sanders can shed a tackle."

Dutch flinches and grimaces, looking left and right. He whispers into his phone and says "Look! Do you need money? Or work? Real work, I can get you a well paying job. You don't have to live in a cramped apartment or wherever. Help me help you." Roscoe frowns and says in annoyance "I…thanks for the offer, but believe me, I'm good. Thanks, but I'm good." Dutch ignores Roscoe's rejection and continues "Listen, me and my crew, we make good money. Four all in all. I can make room for a fifth, hear me out." Roscoe shakes his head and seethes, hiding his anger as he replies "Again, thanks for the offer, but it ain't happening." After a second, Roscoe continues and lies "I got a customer coming in, talk to you some other time. Good luck with whatever you're doing." Dutch solemnly nods and replies "Yeah, thanks. Good luck with the surf shop." He hears Roscoe hang up his cell phone, and pockets his own cell phone in response.

Shaking his head, Dutch adjusts his sunglasses and walks toward Black Lagoon Company. He notices Benny, dressed in an old, purple FSU Seminoles t-shirt, blue jeans, and grey sandals, Revy, dressed in her blue tracksuit and black boots, smoking a cigarette, Rock, dressed in his black and white plaid dress shirt, black dress pants, and black dress shoes, also smoking a cigarette, and Marty, dressed in brown sandals, beige shorts, and his 'Fraser River Port Authority' t-shirt worn inside out. Dutch turns to Marty and says "Thanks, we're good to go."

Marty lets out an annoyed sigh and says "Feels like I'm working for you, not the other way around." He turns around to a grey second-generation Ford Explorer and opens the front side passenger door. Revy takes a final drag of her cigarette and tosses it on the ground, as Rock follows suit. Marty steps in as Black Lagoon Company crowd themselves in the back, with Nicky Ippolito behind the wheel, dressed as he was yesterday. Dutch turns to his crew and says "This looks like a clown car." Rock barters "Hey Benny, you take the trunk and I'll let you take the TV to watch the Orange Dish." Dutch and Benny burst out into laughter as Marty asks "What's so funny?"

Benny says "Rock, it's called the 'ORANGE BOWL'." Marty, getting the joke, starts cracking up as well. Rock shrugs his shoulders and says "Whatever, the Orange Bowl." Revy rolls her eyes and says "Hey, as long as it doesn't cut in on the NFL playoffs. My Broncos facing the Chiefs and I ain't missing that if the world's bout to end." Benny laughs and says "C'mon Revy, Broncos are going to choke like usual. Elway's an overrated bum. Favre's getting a back-to-back." Marty reaches his threshold and yells "Holy shit I don't care! Are you four this fucking stunatz?! Can we get this thing going already?! PLEASE?!" Dutch sighs and says "Benny, Revy, as your boss…" Benny sighs and says "Alright, Dutch. Alright."

As the car passes an intersection, Marty speaks out "Alright, guess now's as good a time as any. See here, there's this press boss here in Vietnam. His name is Chù Thanh Hoàng, and he's been having a raging hard on for me and my business since I got here. This guy has heavy connections with politicians in the red party and his twin brother is a high-level official in the Tổng Cục II, also known as the Second General Department. And more informally known as the Vietnamese Secret Police. Now I've been working with this serious officer in the Vietnamese Army…I keep a nice paper trail into his pocket, and he stays in mine. That army guy then 'socializes' the wealth with his friends and superiors, giving me more breathing room. Now, I have no fucking idea what is going on politically in this crazy country, but I'm guessing that the secret police and the military ain't on the best of terms. So either Chù, his brother, and their clowns are just trying to squeeze me for dollars, or there is something else going on. The new General Secretary, Phiêu Khả Lê, is heavy in the army…3 star general and all that. Maybe Chù and company are scared of losing some clout…I don't know. What I do know is that the guy has been having cops harass me and my men and has made some subtle articles published in the papers…like about seizing property from new investors and about foreign organized crime."

"That's it? A few news articles? How are you even sure that it is Chù doing all this?" Dutch inquires. Marty thinks for a second, looks out the front side passenger window, and says "Some time before Luca was preparing his little vacation in Roanapur, Gessa and I finished ironing out the details for the drug smuggling part of this racket. This was back in August, in 97. Seems like Chù took a sniff, because a couple of weeks after we was getting coke into the country, in late August, he comes up to me…demanding a 'hospitality tax'. In my head, I was thinking 'fuck, I'm already paying out the ass to my military connect so he could spread the love with his friends, now this shrimp dick is trying to squeeze me?' I told him to eat shit. Later came the articles, then the local pigs start harassing Tuyết and her muscle, then I get word from Tuyết that our deliveries from Vancouver have been getting tailed on their way to and from Rạch Giá. Then we had one of Tuyết's men get arrested and holed up. I'm guessing they tried to make him a rat, because two weeks ago when he came out of the station, he looked like a lawn mower ran over him. And of course, we all found Gessa, hot off the press. So yeah, I'm pretty fucking sure that we have the right guy."

"How high up is Chù's brother in the secret police?" Dutch inquires. Marty blinks and says "He might as well be in fucking orbit." Dutch grimaces and says "See here, we are willing to do whatever you want us to do, but I have serious reservations about having four mercenaries go punch for punch with a national intelligence agency. You haven't told us what the job actually is, and I would rather know sooner than later." The car exits the city limits and proceeds onto the dirt road 'highway' known as QL 80. Marty rubs his chin and says "Well first I'm gonna verify that the factory isn't bobby trapped or some shit…and if the cameras picked up something. When they confirm what I already know…hey Dutch, you fought in Vietnam right?"

Dutch nods and says "Yeah, what about?" "Were you stationed in Saigon? Does the name Thinh Nguyễn ring a bell?" Marty inquires. Dutch shakes his head and says "Nah, I was stationed in the west. My battalion was fighting in the marshes near the Cambodian border. I never stepped foot in the city. What about this man?"

Marty turns to the back of the car and says "If you were stationed in Saigon, you'd probably known this guy. Big time gangster in South Vietnam, practically runs the rackets in half the country…gambling, whores, smack, and so on. He was working with the ARVN and the Americans, being a pain the ass for the VC. Then Saigon became Ho Chi Minh City and Thinh got 'reeducated', which only made him even more pissed off. Thinh and I are on a first name basis, and he's been feeding me intel as a token of goodwill. Now there is this rival gangster…this Cambodian guy…Khmer…some shit like that. Van Thirith his name…major arms dealer and smuggler on the Vietnamese/Cambodian border. He's been expanding into Thinh's turf and rackets and Thinh is getting too much heat to do anything about it. In 1989, a nail bomb went off in the headquarters of the Indochina Daily, Chù's newspaper, a week after Van Thirith got an article written about him. Let's say Van Thirith didn't like the article that much. A couple of employees got fucked up and Chù took a nail to the thigh. They prosecuted but couldn't make it stick, again, bit suspicious…and Chù's brother didn't have the power that he has now. Now the only reason that I could imagine Van Thirith still walking the streets is that he got protection from someone bigger than Chù's brother. Thinh thinks the same as well and has tagged along for this little rollercoaster ride. You see where I'm going?"

Dutch squints and says "Kind of. What exactly are you driving at here?" Marty sighs in annoyance and says "You and your crew's gonna take out Van Thirith, dressed in the same armored gear that the Tổng Cục II uses. Everyone, even members of the Tổng Cục II that don't got anything to do with newspaper man, they all are gonna pin it on Chù. Ordering summary executions on politically protected assholes that are on your shit list usually gets the wrong kind of attention. If that works, we'll go on from there. And if you're wondering, no, hitting Chù, while a lot fucking easier, is just asking for all of us to get it up the ass from the cops, both original and secret recipe. This got to be done right, very carefully."

Dutch shakes his head and frowns, saying "We are couriers, not assassins. I don't understand why you won't have Thinh or one of your people do the hit." Marty laughs and says "Easy…you got no connection to me. If you fuck up, it doesn't get back to me. Plausible deniability…ain't it something?" Dutch shakes his head and replies in a raised voice "Are you listening to me? We aren't contract killers." Marty sighs and says "60 grand, split however you want to split it. That's 24 grand extra, six grand each. 15 grand split four ways." Dutch thinks for a second and says "We have the image of a courier group…" Marty snaps his fingers and says "Think of it as transporting an idea across. Van Thirith dying ain't the goal here, it's just a big piece of the plan and a little payback for my friend in Saigon."

Dutch rubs his forehead and asks "How many jobs are you hiring us for? The max?" Marty thinks for a while, mumbles incoherently to himself, and says "At most, three. They are all going to require similar amounts of fucking mayhem." "Let's do it this way. You pay us 75 grand for this upcoming job, as this one is going outside our expertise. The next two jobs go for 25 grand each, for a 125 grand total, if necessary," Dutch counters with an offer of his own. "Why should I pay you more for you going outside your expertise? Makes sense that I'd pay you less, actually," Marty retorts, annoyed. "Think of it as a penalty for our false advertising. We have a reputation as couriers, not contract killers. We got to maintain it," Dutch answers, sternly staring at Marty. Marty looks up, exhales a deep breath, and says "Deal, but I expect results, alright? You fuck up, and we got a problem." As Dutch and Marty shake on it, the car takes a left turn and enters a narrow dirt road leading to the coast.

Suddenly, Benny interjects, restlessly saying "I'm just a tech. I can't hold a gun." "I know, I know. If Marty and I are thinking the same thing, then you're our getaway driver once Thirith is dead," Dutch answers, to which Benny nervously nods in response. Marty snaps his fingers again and says "Benny, that your name, right? You and Nicky here are going to be on the torpedo boat in case you all gonna need to lay low at sea. Can't think of a better place to disappear in, if you can dodge the coast guard. You know how to work the controls, right?" Benny looks at Dutch, who nods in approval. Turning back to Marty, Benny says "Yeah, I got it." "I don't give a shit if you want to be the driver…just someone's gotta bring the boat in for a real escape. Figured you don't like strangers in charge of your boat, Dutch," Marty replies. Dutch waves Marty off and says "I got no problems with this setup." Ippolito turns right on a dirt road and checks the rear-view mirror for any cars. Satisfied that he wasn't followed, Ippolito says "Hear that Benny-boy? You and me's gonna get familiar. You got a TV on the boat? I didn't see one last time." Marty glares at Ippolito and says "It's an old fucking navy boat! What do you think?!"

Suddenly, the Ford Explorer enters an open field of grass, the factory in sight. A three-floor brick facility with giant windows on every one of its walls, the 'recycling depot' casts a deep shadow on the nearby coastline, roasting under an Indochinese sun that is preparing its descent. The Ford Explorer approaches a large patch of dirt next to facility, a red x drawn on the patch. The car parks and its occupants exit, with a Marty and Ippolito exiting first and Black Lagoon Company following suit. The six turn their attention to the factory, which is, for some bizarre reason, blasting the soundtrack to the 1960's film 'Spartacus'. A Vietnamese woman approaches the group, wearing a beige collared polo, a pair of forest green camouflage designed cargo pants, and chocolate-colored sandals. She has long, black hair tied into a ponytail, slightly light skin, a skinny face, and a large, circular scar on her left cheek, appearing as if she was once shot in the cheek. She is carrying a Madsen M50 submachine gun in her hands, the gun in a sling around her neck.

"Tuyết, what the fuck is that noise?!" Marty inquires with a perplexed look on his face, pointing at the factory with his right hand. Tuyết blankly looks at Marty and says "Nathaniel always wanted to put that stupid movie on the loudspeaker. I think he got what he wanted before he ended up killed. Follow." Marty, Ippolito, and Black Lagoon Company follow into a side entrance to the factory. Twisting the metal knob on the metal door, Tuyết enters the facility with the rest of the group behind her. As Rock takes a glimpse of the 'factory' floor, he asks "Shouldn't we need gas masks or goggles?" Tuyết turns to a staircase and quickly responds "The place has been shut down two days ago, before Nathaniel was killed. It's been aerated enough."

"Wait a minute, so this fucking noise has been going on a loop for two days straight?" Marty inquires, raising an eyebrow. Taking her first step on the staircase, Tuyết replies "Yea, for two days. If it was any closer to the city, I would have shut it off to prevent any noise complaints, but I thought that you'd like to inspect the place as it was when I left." Heading up the stairs with the rest of the group, Marty asks "You left before Nat Gas, right? No one else was in the factory?" Tuyết shakes her head and turns to a second flight of stairs heading to the second floor. "Any breaking and entering?" Marty inquires further, following Tuyết up the stairs. "I checked one of the locks on the door. It was clearly picked," Tuyết answers.

Revy shrugs her shoulders and says "Picked? Why? These are supposed to be secret agents, right? The windows are open…they could climb through them or some shit." "The walls are completely vertical and the bricks ain't easy to climb on. They would be a bitch to climb without grappling equipment. They do probably have access to that stuff, so that is a good point," Marty answers, thinking to himself. The seven, with Tuyết in the lead, continue up the stairs, this time to the third floor. Starting to grunt in exhaustion, Rock asks "Why don't you have a chain link fence around the perimeter?" Tuyết laughs and says "Nói thì dễ hơn làm (easier said than done). If we put up a chain link fence, that is practically saying we have something to hide. It is just asking for needling from the cops." "And the constant emission of toxic gas isn't enough warning already?" Rock sarcastically inquires. "This is a country where people in cities are starting to wear smog masks on a daily basis, as well as a country that only started to believe in private businesses a decade ago. Believe me, the officials are more worried about 'fences' then toxic gas," Tuyết replies, reaching the third floor of the facility.

Tuyết fishes a key out and unlocks the door to the rest of the third floor. As she twists the knob and pushes the door open, the soundtrack music increases by several decibels and Tuyết, Rock, and Benny all grimace and cover their ears. "Yeah, installing a loudspeaker in the security office…not my brightest moment," Marty frankly mutters, stepping into the security office. He spots several monitors on a desk, all shot, as well as a dashboard. Blood patterns the wooden floor, and several 9mm shell casings idle next to a few blood drops. "Tuyết, how do you work the loudspeaker?" Marty asks, annoyed from the loud music. "CÁI GÌ (WHAT)?! I CAN'T HEAR YOU!" Tuyết yells back, covering her ears, her Madsen 50 swaying from side to side. "Fuck it," Marty mutters, drawing a Beretta 92 and firing a bullet into the loudspeaker, killing all the noise on the third floor.

At his bearings, Marty scans the room further and points his gun at the ceiling. "Camera's been shot. This is some strange shit…what the hell they were trying to do?" he speaks to himself, twirling the barrel of his pistol in circles. After a pause, he points at the monitors and says "Check to see if the security tapes are still there." The Vietnamese head of security adjusts the sling of her submachine gun and steps toward the security desk. Pressing a couple of buttons, she extracts a VHS tape. She sets it aside and works on another VHS tape, extracting that one as well. Pulling out five tapes, she says "Five tapes and five cameras, nothing missing. If this is the Tổng Cục Tình Bá, they did a sloppy job." Marty holsters his pistol and says "Yeah, sounds like someone panicked, or they sent an amateur." "I think so to but we need to view these tapes. Anyone have a VCR?" Tuyết replies and asks, staring at Black Lagoon Company.

Dutch turns to Benny and asks "Do we have a VCR on the Lagoon?" Benny nods and says "Yeah, but without a TV, we can't play the tapes." Tuyết turns her attention to the dashboard and tinkers with a few buttons, shutting off the remaining loudspeakers. "Now that we are back to the 20th century…" she says, scratching her neck. She turns to Marty and says "Nathaniel had one of those small TVs. Although after walking into his office once without knocking…you might want to wipe them down." "That's not going into my quarters until it gets sanitized!" Benny yells out, to which Ippolito, Rock, and Revy all snicker in response.

Inside Benny's quarters on the Lagoon, Benny inserts a tape into a VCR with Marty and Tuyết right behind him. Ippolito and the rest of Black Lagoon Company converses in the adjacent lounge quarters of the boat as Benny squints at the TV screen. "You wiped this down? Right?" Benny asks, staring at Tuyết indignantly. Tuyết removes her Madsen M50 and sets it on the wall behind her. She turns to Benny and says "This one was still in the box." Benny raises his eyebrow and says "O…kay. Playing the first tape…ground floor…front entrance camera…you know these cameras are useless when the floor is full of smoke, right?" Marty, Tuyết, and Benny glue their eyes to the screen as Tuyết explains "The smog is thin enough for cameras to see through."

After a few seconds, Marty commands "Fast forward to 7 P.M. and run it four times faster." "Y'all got it," Benny replies, complying with Marty's request.

In the adjacent room, Rock, Revy, Dutch, and Ippolito all lounge in the lobby of the Lagoon, with Rock and Revy sitting on a narrow sofa facing a coffee table and Dutch and Ippolito sitting on the opposite, identical sofa. "Nice place you got here, Dutch. Good call on getting this lobby thing with the boat. The fuck you found a patrol boat?" Ippolito inquires, curious. "I was fleeing Cambodia after a smuggling gig gone wrong…found this boat there. This was back when Pol Pot was playing channeling his inner Ivan the Terrible. I think some US special forces FUBAR'd an assignment there and their boat got taken as a trophy. I guess I had a duty to recapture it," Dutch answers, weaving some truth into his lie.

Ippolito coughs and reaches for an opened can of Heineken. He finishes his fourth consecutive beer and sets it down, burping. "Oh fuck…where's the pisser?" Ippolito asks, having slight trouble standing up and keeping balance. "Over there," Dutch answers, pointing at a door behind the sofa that Rock and Revy are sitting. Ippolito scurries over to the bathroom, swaying side to side.

"I'm turning on the stereo," Revy mutters, climbing off the sofa. She walks to the right of the tiny kitchen and steps through an opened doorway. She stares at the ladder to the lower deck, and then turns left, spotting the grey boombox. Revy picks it up and carries it into the lobby, setting it down by the coffee table. She pushes a button and opens one of the two cassette slots, carefully pulling out a cassette tape that says in purple marker 'Bo Diddley – Best of Compilation'. "I was looking for that tape…" Dutch blurts out, grabbing the tape from Revy's right hand. He scans the tape front and back, saying "Yea, I thought I lost this tape. Good find."

"Hey Rock, you know any radio stations in the area?" Revy asks, eying the FM dial on the stereo. Rock laughs and says "There is this hilarious Viet radio station that's coming from Roanapur. This former ARVN soldier that fled Vietnam before Saigon fell. Like Bao did. He goes on long winded rants in both English and Vietnamese against the Vietnamese government, in between playing Viet Rock and occasional American Rock." "Wait, are you talking about FM 102.9? Sang Cao, that guy who keeps demanding his house back? I heard about him," Dutch inquires, curious. "Yes, him! Last July, he raised enough money that he was able to upgrade the radius to encompass almost all of Thailand and Cambodia, and it even reaches Saigon…well Ho Chi Minh City to be exact. Now most of South Vietnam could hear him," Rock replies, amused with himself.

"FM 102.9, right? Got it," Revy blurts out, adjusting the dial to the specified radio station. She then raises the volume half way up as Ippolito returns from the bathroom, the latter exhaling a deep breath. As Ippolito sits down next to Dutch, the station cuts to Sang Cao saying "This is FM 102.9, home of Viet and American Classic! Alert! Alert! Cảnh báo (warning)! Đây là một thông báo an toàn công cộng (This is a public safety announcement)! This is a public safety announcement! All Vietnamese Government Officials tuning in, your parents smoke whale dick! Đối với tất cả các thành viên của Đảng (For all members of the Party), cha mẹ của bạn hút thuốc dương vật cá voi (your parents smoke elephant penis)! That is all. We got thirty minutes of nonstop rock coming up, followed by 'Reeducation Nation with Sang Cao'. And for certain people tuning in…FUCK YOU, AND GIVE ME BACK MY FUCKING HOUSE!"

Rock, Revy, and Ippolito all burst into hysterical laughter as Ippolito struggles to ask "What the fuck?! Does this guy do this all day?!" Rock nods his head violently, too consumed with laughter to verbally respond. Dutch chuckles and says "Revy, I think we found your long-lost brother." "Fuck you, ha!" Revy replies, still laughing. Calming himself down, Rock blurts out "He was crazier when he first started…like sometimes he would go into tirades long enough to fill a play. Every Wednesday and Saturday, for five hours straight with the occasional commercial."

The stereo continues to play, with Sang Cao saying "Time for the 2:30 P.M. stretch! Hùng Cường & Mai Lệ Huyền, with their 60s rock rendition of 'Hờn Anh Giận Em'."The stereo begins the track, as Rock takes a sip of beer.

Tuyết overhears the radio and starts whispering the lyrics to the song under her breath. She, along with Benny and Marty, view a new tape, sourced from the camera in the security room. Marty gives Tuyết a blank, annoyed stare, and then resumes to staring at the screen. The TV monitor shows a man with short black hair, dressed in a purple t-shirt and grey jeans, fiddling with the security room dashboard. The man, Nathaniel Gessa, smacks the dashboard several times with his right hand. Visible at the top of the screen, and unbeknownst to Gessa, a man dressed in baggy gray cargo pants and a green hooded sweater, his arms covered with leather gloves and his face shrouded behind a balaclava, creeps next to the doorway to the security room. The balaclava wearing man seats himself on the ground next to the doorway and tries to peek inside.

Suddenly, as the balaclava wearing man is climbing up to his feet, a massive wave of obnoxious noise thunders through both the security room and Benny's workstation, causing the balaclava-clad man to fall to the ground on camera, and Tuyết and Benny to flinch in surprise as the reluctant audience. On the monitor, Gessa yells out "Who there?!" He grabs his G3A3 rifle and arms himself, approaching the doorway. Suddenly, as the rifle pokes out of the doorway, the balaclava-clad man grabs the barrel of the rifle and struggles with Gessa, trying to wrest the rifle out of his hands. Gessa pulls back on the rifle and tries to open fire, only to watch the intruder shove two of his fingers behind the trigger, rendering the trigger useless. Gessa then pulls the rifle to the right, and swings it left, trying to club the assailant. The assailant ducks under the rifle and, standing behind Gessa, grabs both ends of his rifle and tries to choke him with it, before grabbing onto the sling for better leverage. Gessa grinds his teeth and shoves the rifle out of both of their hands, causing it to slam against a wall. Gessa then swings his right elbow into the assailant's face, yelling "Asshole!" He reaches for the stunned assailant's balaclava and pulls it off, revealing a middle-aged Vietnamese man with once black hair that has gone partially grey, the man's right cheek cut open and bleeding from Gessa's elbow strike.

"Gotcha, you piece of shit! That's Chù's brother alright!" Marty yells, as on the screen, the assailant lunges at Gessa and pins him to a wall. The assailant then draws a CZ-75 pistol from under his sweater as Gessa shoves the assailant back a few steps. Gessa spots the pistol and yells "Ugatz!" He lunges at the pistol and grabs the barrel with his left hand, covering it with his left palm. The assailant quickly arcs the barrel toward Gessa's chest and opens fire as Gessa's palm blocks the edge of the barrel. The first bullet exits through Gessa's left hand and strikes him in the left lung. The second bullet cuts a deeper wound in Gessa's left hand and strikes Gessa in the chest, severing his aorta artery. Gessa flinches, takes a step back, and looks down as he bleeds all over the floor, losing all control of his legs. He grasps at his chest and falls face forward, dead before he hits the ground. The assailant stares at Gessa's body and grasps at his own hair, furious. He turns to the security monitors and quickly unloads bullets into the screen, right before spotting a camera, which he shoots as well, engulfing into darkness the TV in Benny's workstation.

"Alright…what we saw, a few things that's making my head spin. First, why would Chù's brother break into the facility, and not someone working for him? And why in street clothes?" Benny speaks out, turning to Marty and Tuyết. Tuyết taps on Benny's shoulder and replies "Trung. Trung Thanh Hoàng. If Trung had to break in by himself, then this isn't a Tổng Cục II operation. Trung is not exactly a man of influence in the agency. This also explains the lack of agency equipment, clearly unsanctioned. Extra-curricular."

Benny nods and says "That explains the street clothes. What about Gessa?" Marty glances at Tuyết and says "You mean…why the fuck wasn't his body dumped into the sea and forgotten about?" Benny nods and says "Yeah, that." Marty turns to Tuyết and asks "Any ideas? Does this shit make any sense to you? You the local here. All I got was that Trung got sloppy. Guessing that Nat Gas's hardcore orchestra concert scared Trung shitless and made him think that an alarm's been sounded."

Tuyết touches her chin with her right hand and cups her right elbow with her left hand, rubbing her chin. "Maybe to send a message?" Tuyết blurts out, before immediately shaking her head. She taps her fingers against the TV monitor and says "This is the secret police. They don't send messages. Too impractical…they want us to know less than more." She snaps her fingers in frustration and blurts out "He was not there to kill Gessa." Marty sighs in annoyance and asks "Alright Tuyết. Say you're in Trung's shoes. For what goddamn reason would you have to stash a body in a place that you know for sure would be found. Why the barge? The fuck he has to gain from doing that?"

Tuyết thinks for several seconds, and then starts nodding violently, saying "To find out where the garbage goes into! To catch us…well you and Black Lagoon Company…in either open water or another secluded dump site. No witnesses...sink boat and bodies too. Địa ngục, that's very clever. Did you find any tracking bugs?" Marty clenches his fists and says "No, I didn't find any fucking tracking bugs. If I did, I would have mentioned them! Oh wait...fuck…Nicky! Nicky!" Ippolito opens the door to Benny's workstation and stumbles inside, saying "Yeah boss?"

"Nicky…go get some of the people on shore, the one's doing their rounds. Either tow the barge to land and inspect it or dive underwater and check it front to back, under the hull. Really give it a good look over. The secret police bugged the barge," Marty commands Ippolito, who looks at his boss incredulously and rubs his eyes, as if in disbelief of what he is hearing. "Boss," Ippolito says "if they bugged the barge, any tracking device probably fell off already, either from the water or from us pushing the blocks into the sea." Marty sarcastically laughs and says "Nicky, we are in a shit slinging match with a government agency. The word 'probably' ain't going to cut it here." Ippolito slouches his shoulders and says "Marty…I'm kinda drunk over here." Marty glares at Ippolito, fakes a chuckle, and steps toward him, saying "Do I look like I give a fuck? Go, get it done. Make yourself useful." Ippolito raises his arms in protest, only to quickly resign to defeat. As he slowly steps out of Benny's workstation, Marty yells out "GO, YOU LONG-HAIRED HIPPEE FUCK!"

Marty's yelling prompts Ippolito to hurry, the latter running toward an ascending ladder. Miraculously, he climbs the ladder without falling off. As Ippolito searches for the exit out of the Lagoon, Marty turns to Benny and Tuyết, saying "This shit still doesn't add up. If those cocksuckers bugged the barge, or the garbage, or Gessa's narrowed asshole, then why didn't anyone give us a hard time out at sea?" Benny suddenly starts laughing hysterically, as Marty and Tuyết stare on in confusion. Marty grabs Benny by his right shoulder and says "Something I said? Narrowed asshole? What's the fucking matter, butt plug fell out?"

Benny heaves a sigh, thinks of replying with a smartass comment, and ultimately decides not to. He instead replies "Earlier today, while we were in the city…before noon, where we all went shopping…I took a visit to an internet café. Over there, I found an interesting article online, which I printed out to read for later. Get a load of this…" Benny climbs out of his seat and gently pushes Tuyết out of his way. He reaches for a plastic shopping bag lying by the wall and sticks his hand inside. Benny then pulls out a printed article from an Australian newspaper and reads the headline "Philippine Navy in Hot Water." He hands the article to Marty and says "A Philippine naval patrol boat pursued a Vietnamese poaching vessel near Thitu Island, Pagasa Island, one of those islands both nations are arguing over. The Vietnamese boat managed to keep its distance from the patrol boat, and managed to escape the Philippine claim line of the Spratlys. The naval boat, however, wouldn't quit…its stubborn captain, who is apparently under investigation, pursued the poaching vessel for a couple hundred miles, into Vietnamese waters."

Marty hands the article to Tuyết and exclaims "The fuck does it have to do with us?!" Benny raises his left index finger into the air and says "That's the hilarious part. When I went back to manning the radar yesterday, the radar picked up an unmarked vessel north of us, about ten minutes after I sat down by the radar. The vessel just stayed there for thirty minutes, way out of reach for it to be problem, but still barely within the range of the radar. I tried communicating with the boat a few times, and got no answer. I then just kept my eye on the boat the whole time. About thirty minutes after it appeared, this third ship zipped by right below the unmarked vessel, like a bat out of hell. I tried to hail that ship, and my only response was "Biến đi."

Tuyết suppresses a chuckle and says "I'm guessing that was the poaching vessel." Benny nods and says "My thinking as well, because after I got my friendly response from that third boat, a large vessel popped up on my radar. I identified the Lagoon as a privately owned Thai boat and the fourth boat identified itself as Philippine Navy, commanded by a Captain Villar. He told us to stay put and said that he was in pursuit, as that wasn't obvious already. The same captain under investigation for trespassing into Vietnamese waters, the guy in the article. Now at that point, the poaching vessel disappeared from the radar, and for some reason, the patrol boat started approaching the unmarked boat from earlier. You see where this is going…"

Marty laughs and says "The Filipinos thought that Trung's boat was the poacher boat, waving the white flag. So when Trung started responding in Vietnamese, the Filipinos thought that they had their boat. And when they went to intercept them, Trung and whoever he was with had to fuck off out of there." Benny nods and says "Looks like it. Sounds like we owe the Philippine Navy a solid." "I'll send the cappy a fruit basket, right after he gets demoted to scrubbing toilets," Marty replies, reaching for the article in Tuyết's hands. He scans the article once more and asks "What's this bout the whatchamacallit? Spratly Islands? That shit."

Tuyết taps Marty on the shoulder and says "The Spratly Islands are a bunch of islands between Vietnam and the Philippines. Major spot for commercial fishing. Vietnam, China, Malaysia, Taiwan, and the Philippines all claim and occupy some of them, and have argued between each other over getting some or all of the rest. Around ten years ago, China and Vietnam had a sea battle over a couple of the islands…China won. Four years ago, China took a reef from the Philippines while the Philippines left the reef unguarded. Instead of doing battle, the Philippines increased naval patrols in the area. Chinese and Vietnamese fishermen that illegally poach the reefs for fish get routinely arrested by the Philippine Navy…though I never heard of a boat chasing a poacher for that long. Surprised that the patrol boat didn't catch up with the poachers…must have been an old vessel."

"How close was our dump site to the Spratly Islands?" Marty asks, turning to Benny. Benny rubs his forehead and says "I'd estimate…around 200 hundred miles. Why?" "FUCK! That newspaper asshole going to get me on the dumping!" Marty exclaims, to which Benny replies with "It's not THAT close to the Spratlys." Marty slams his right hand against his forehead and exclaims "Do you think anyone is going to give a shit?! They'll just say that I was closer to the Islands in earlier dumps, or they'll just suggest it even, that'll be enough. I can see the headline now: 'Local Dago Capitalist Sabotages National Fishing Industry'. I think it has a nice fucking ring, don't you?! Fuck this! I'm calling it a day."

Marty opens the door to the lobby of the Lagoon, the radio currently playing 'Con Tim Và Nước Mắt' by Bích Loan and the CBC Band. He steps into the lobby and turns to Black Lagoon Company, saying "Here me out, and hear me out good. You all know where your motels are going to be, you remember right? Good, cause tomorrow, I'm going to have someone pick you up from Nha Trang…around noon. The drive is going to be about three hours long, to Thinh Nguyễn's place in Saigon. There, we all going to plan this shit out. Now, I'm going to see if Nicky hasn't drowned or pissed all over the barge. You all can get going." "Got it, Marty," Dutch says as Tuyết exits Benny's workstation. She nods at Black Lagoon Company, and then follows Marty to the ladder to the upper deck. As Dutch hears the door to the deck of the Lagoon slam shut, he turns to Benny's workstation and yells out "We overheard the whole thing, Benny-boy. Good work, looks like some of Rock has rubbed off on you. Now next time you see suspicious vessels on radar, you better damn tell us!"

A dark red Volvo 240 DL Sedan cruises through a relatively empty road in Roanapur, passing a few apartment complexes. Inside, Laurent Duclair, dressed in blue jeans and a yellow t-shirt that says in red lettering 'Pas de Quartier (no quarter), Pas de Pitié (no mercy), Seulement… (Only)', converses with a very young and slightly skinny native Hawaiian man, the later sporting short black hair combed backwards and slightly tanned skin. The Hawaiian man is dressed in green khaki shorts and a collared, buttoned black shirt with a design of a large, grey horse galloping, the buttons dividing the horse in half. Inside the Volvo sedan, the radio plays 'Le Combat Continue (The Fight Continues)' by French rap group Idéal J.

"We are going to change our dead drops, Russell. Interesting times, vous me suivez? You get what I mean?" Duclair explains, a plastic tray lying on the divider between the driver seat and Russell Keawe, the latter sitting on the front side passenger seat. Inside the tray is a half-eaten serving of pad Thai, a plastic fork plunged inside the rice noodles. Russell looks out of the window, watching the occasional signs of life zip by, saying "I get you alii. How's it been? Enjoying the sun?"

"Nah, busy, busy, busy. House hunting for family…I narrowed down a few nice locations in Bangkok. One property owner was a fils de pute, an absolute piece of shit. He tried to keep me from entering the basement, where rats were having a putain de orgie. No, haven't been able to enjoy the beach. Weather has been merdique when I had free time," Duclair replies, taking a right turn at an intersection.

"I appreciate how you are looking out for your family. My father has been suffering from early onset Alzheimer's. Only 46 and his mind is already deteriorating. I've been making payments for a caretaker, it's very expensive. I want to be with him but I need the money to support him," Russell mutters, grimacing to himself. Duclair, his eyes on the road, asks "What about rest of your family?" Russell shakes his head and says "Divorced when I was in second grade, both grandparents passed away. No aunts or uncles. I'm pretty much his only family left." Duclair glares at Russell for a few seconds, and then ultimately says nothing. After a short pause, Russell blurts out "I heard what happened to that Seok guy." Duclair nods and replies with "Oui? What about it?" "Do you think there is going to be more trouble with the Koreans?" Russell inquires, keeping his eyes out of the window. Duclair shrugs his shoulders and says "Qui vivra, verra. We'll find out eventually."

The Volvo parks in front of a dilapidated row of two floor buildings, the top floor being residential buildings with iron gates on their windows and the bottom floor being an assortment of stores. Duclair exits the Volvo with his pad Thai tray in hand as Russell follows suit. Duclair and Russell both shut their respective car doors, which is followed by Duclair locking the car. The sun continues its descent as Duclair glances at his stainless-steel watch, the watch revealing that it is 4:14 P.M. He points at a condemned ice cream parlor, and says "This is the place. Follow me."

Duclair, holding the tray between his left hand and his left ribs, pulls a key out of his pocket with his remaining hand. He unlocks the entrance to the condemned ice cream parlor and steps inside, as Russell follows. Inside, the parlor is a shell of its former self, with all the food and the machinery removed, leaving behind dusty, white, round tables and an empty white counter. Duclair approaches one of the round tables and places his tray of pad Thai on the table as Russell shuts the door. Russell extends his arms outward and asks "Where's the bag?"

Emotionless and without saying a word, Duclair walks toward the middle of the counter and looks down on the wooden floor. His white tennis shoes on, Duclair squares up a section of the floor and drives his right foot down on it, causing a large, wooden square-shaped piece of the floor to cave in. He pulls out the square chunk of the floor and tosses it aside, the chunk of wood clanging against the grey colored wall. Russell looks at the black duffle bag stuffed under the floor, not saying a word. Duclair pulls the duffle bag on its straps and props it on the counter. He seats himself on a blue bar stool and meditates for a second in front of the duffle bag. Suddenly, he grabs the duffle bag, and slowly slides it toward Russell.

Russell glares at the duffle bag, and then at Duclair. Confused, he reaches for the duffle bag, only to have Duclair snatch it back. "What's going on?" Russell nervously asks. Duclair reaches into his pockets and pulls out a lighter and a pack of Dunhill International Lights. He fishes out a cigarette and lights it, taking a drag. "Want a smoke?" Duclair asks. "What the hell is going on?!" Russell yells out, visibly distressed. Duclair takes another drag and exhales smoke, eyes forward, and says "I know you ratted to the Koreans, Russell. Go take the money and get out of here. Go back to Hawaii, go Burma, I don't care…leave and never come back."

Russell freezes up, glaring at Duclair, his heart racing. His breathing become heavier, Russell forces himself to look at the duffle bag. His hands shaking, Russell grimaces at Duclair and grabs the duffle bag, yelling "I'm sorry! I needed the money…I was desperate! Seok went up to me and offered to pay for some information. I didn't think it would have nearly gotten Tak killed! I had to do it! MY DAD'S BRAIN WAS TURNING TO MUSH!" "I understand," Duclair replies, taking a drag of his cigarette. "I thought you would, Laurent. Mahalo, thank you very much!" Russell replies back. He takes a few steps toward the entrance, and reaches for the zipper on the duffle bag. He unzips the duffle bag, and immediately lets the bag drop to the ground as $500Monopolynotes fly out of it.

The door to the ice cream parlor swings open, and a middle aged native Hawaiian man, around six feet tall, with long black hair tied into a ponytail and an untrimmed moustache, wearing a green tracksuit and white tennis shoes, steps inside the ice cream parlor and shuts the door behind him. His face somewhat wrinkled and his eyebrows thick, he menacingly smiles and says "Aloha, you little shit." Russell almost gags on his saliva, mustering out "Oh fuck…fuck." As he starts backing up, Duclair climbs off the bar stool and seats himself down next to his tray of pad Thai. From the rear of the ice cream parlor, James Apuna, dressed in a blue and green plaid unbuttoned collared shirt, a beige undershirt, and black track pants, appears, whistling to himself.

His adrenaline pumping, Russell turns back and forth, searching for a way out. Unarmed, he scans the bar for something to grab on. Finding nothing, Russell makes a bee line for the exit behind Apuna. As he tries dodging Apuna, Apuna grabs Russell by his right arm and pushes him face first into the wall, shattering his nose. Apuna then slides his arms behind Russell's head in a full nelson grapple, as Duclair places his cigarette on the table. Apuna drags Russell toward the counter, stares at the man in the tracksuit, and yells out "Kawika, grab the little shit's legs!"

As Kawika grabs onto both of Russell's legs, Duclair pops open the tray cover to his pad Thai and reaches for the slightly greasy plastic fork. He plunges it into a web of rice noodles, egg, crushed peanut, and shrimp. The two Hawaiians lift Russell up and drag him across the counter, with Apuna holding him in the full nelson and Kawika pinning his legs together. They angle Russell to face Duclair, who is chewing his pad Thai. Apuna releases his full nelson hold and wraps Russell in a headlock, forcing him to look at Duclair. Panicking and terrified out of his wits, flailing in the grasps of Apuna and Kawika, blood dripping out of his nose, Russell yells out "PLEASE LAURENT! Please! C'mon, you value family! Don't do this!"

Duclair swallows what he was chewing, blinks, and says "Kawika, check if the rat ate any cheese." Kawika laughs and says "Oh with pleasure." He psychotically smiles at Russell and pulls a hunting knife out of his tracksuit pocket. Russell spots the blade and immediately flails, yelling "OH FUCK! SOMEONE HELP! HELP, THEY ARE GOING TO FUCKING KILL ME! HELP! OH JESUS, FUCK! FUCK!" He tries kicking at Kawika, who simply parries the kicks downward, waiting for his exact moment. "Oh Jesus…oh Jesus, not like this, oh shit," Russell swears as Kawika sizes him up. He tries looking away, only to have Apuna wrench his head back to its original position. His breathing heavy and his body shaking, Russell closes his eyes as Kawika shoves the hunting knife horizontally into Russell's left ribs.

Apuna pushes Russell's head downward, forcing him to watch, muttering "Look, you motherfucker. Watch the show, it's not gonna take long." Russell ceases to yell and simply glares at the knife, his breathing extremely heavy as sweat rolls down his forehead and blood starts to seep out of the wound. "Have a nice trip, you fucking rat," Kawika blurts out as he grabs the hilt of the knife and slices open Russell's abdominal cavity amidst his agonizing screams, nicking a few arteries in the process. Duclair continues to eat as blood pours out of Russell's abdomen, staining his green khakis. Kawika laughs and pulls upward at the opening with the knife and digs inside the opening, slashing and cutting, causing Russell's guts to spill onto the floor and his intestines to dangle out in midair. He slashes at Russell's dangling intestines and cuts them loose as blood flows out of his abdomen.

Duclair pierces a shrimp and eats it as Kawika drives his knife into Russell's neck and cuts it open, silencing his screams. He swallows the shrimp and asks "Any cheese?" Apuna grabs Russell's dead body by the hair and pushes his corpse to the side, the corpse landing on its left shoulder. Kawika walks up to Russell's dead body and taps his head with his shoe. He pockets the bloody knife and turns to Duclair, saying "Got nothing." Duclair tosses his fork into the tray and reattaches the cover onto it. He then grabs his cigarette and places it in his mouth. He takes his tray and exits out the front as Kawika grabs the duffle bag and follows Duclair. Apuna turns toward the chunk of wood from the floor and grabs it, turning toward a rear exit. Outside, Duclair unlocks the Volvo and steps in the driver's seat, as Kawika seats himself in the front side passenger seat. A white Mercury Grand Marquis, driven by Apuna, appears out of a driveway and drives past the Volvo without giving recognition. Duclair takes a drag on his cigarette, starts the engine, and hits the gas, as the two exit the street without saying a word.

In the city of Nha Trang, Black Lagoon Company enters the lobby of a motel, the front desk right across from them, it being kept lit by an old lamp. Behind the front desk, a short Vietnamese man with wavy hair combed to the side and a faint goatee, wearing a black and grey pinstriped dress shirt and beige slacks, occupies the otherwise empty motel lobby. The four mercenaries approach the front desk, each carrying a small case of luggage. The Vietnamese man stares at the four mercenaries and glares at them with confusion. After a pause, he points at all of them and says "Ehh…you with Mr. Zappa? Canadian businessman?"

Benny looks at Dutch and laughs, as Dutch sighs and says "Yeah, we are with him." The Vietnamese man opens a guest ledger and scans through it. He turns his attention to Black Lagoon Company and asks "Which of you is Bucky Goldstein?" Revy and Dutch restrain themselves from laughing, using all their might, as Benny glares at Dutch and Revy with a look that screams"Are you kidding me?!"He turns to the motel manager and says "That'll be me." Benny approaches the front the desk and signs his name, not daring to peak at the other names.

The motel manager looks back on the ledger and asks "Lady? Are you Mai Lin?" Revy turns to Dutch and a snickering Benny and whispers "I don't get it." Benny whispers into her ear "She's a porn star." Revy jerks her head at Benny and says "I'm so going to kill Marty." She signs her name and glances at the name below 'hers', the last name on the page. She raises an eyebrow and steps away, grabbing the hilt of her luggage case. The Vietnamese man proceeds to the next name on the page, asking "Which of you is Genzo Kurita?" Dutch, Benny, and Revy stare at Rock, not getting the joke, as Rock sighs and walks toward the front desk, signing his name. The motel manager stares at the group and remarks "These names are fake, right? Don't answer that question, I don't want to know."

He flips the page on the ledger and glares at the name on top. Reading it over twice silently, he asks "Marsellus Wallace?" Rock, Revy, and Benny burst out into hysterical laughter as Dutch shakes his head and signs his name on the ledger. The Vietnamese man snaps his fingers and says "Follow me." The four mercenaries grab their luggage and follow the manager up a nearby flight of stairs.

On the second floor, the manager points to a pair of adjacent rooms, numbered 22 and 24. He turns to Rock and Revy and says "You two, you get 22. 24 is for the rest. Separate beds and a personal bathroom. As instructed, no room service, no maid service, no one will enter these rooms but you four. Do not tell me what you do here…I do not want to know. If police come, I will not protect you, and I will pretend that I knew nothing. Fair? Fair." He hands Rock and Revy a pair of keys, and tosses another pair of keys at Dutch, who hands one over to Benny. Without saying another word, the Vietnamese man returns to his front desk as if nothing ever happened.

Dutch turns to Rock and Revy and says "The two of us are going to get settled down. We'll knock if anything comes up." He turns toward the door to room 24 and unlocks it, stepping inside. Benny follows suit and yells "A TV?! Orange Bowl, here I come! This is going to be sick!" Revy opens the door to room 22 and steps in, dragging her luggage as Rock follows suit with his luggage. Stepping inside, they find two modest beds on the left wall and a TV with a cabinet on it on the right. In the wall across from them, they spot a window covered with iron bars and draped behind a light green translucent curtain. The walls, painted a beige color, are virtually bare. A wooden door leads to a bathroom behind the beds and the wall that separates them. To their immediate left is a black safe and a small closet.

"A fucking porn star huh? Where does he get his balls?! Raspy-voiced dick." Revy swears, unpacking her luggage. She pulls out her black tank top and corduroy blue shorts, and sets them on the nearby bed. As she pulls out a set of tracksuits, Rock yells "Do you know who Genzo Kurita is?! He was one of Japan's worst serial killers! He ate people! Had sex with them! Sometimes in that order! What the hell?!" From across the wall, Rock and Revy could barely hear Dutch screaming "Don't do it, Benny! Don't even think about it!" Shortly afterwards, Benny yells out "DOES MARION SAVAGE LOOK…LIKE…A BITCH?!" Immediately afterwards, Rock and Revy hear a barely audible smack and the sound of someone hitting the floor. The two smile at each other and shake their heads.

She pulls her two Cutlasses out of her tracksuit pockets and sets them by the TV. She then returns her attention to her luggage case, reaching inside. As Revy sets a case of 9mm ammunition on the cabinet next to the TV, Rock removes his dress shoes and climbs into bed, sprawled on his back, engulfing himself in the beige covers. He lets out an audible sigh and scratches the back of his head. "Do you want to get something to eat?" Revy asks, pulling a MP5A3 out of her luggage. She sets the submachine gun next to a few cases of 9mm ammo as Rock replies "I could go for some food." Revy pulls out a toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste and says "I want to take a shower first. Need the bathroom?"

Rock shakes his head and says "No. Go ahead." Revy pulls out a bottle of body wash and places it on the ground. She stares at Rock's exposed belly, the medical tape covering his torso. "You ever think of removing the tape?" Revy inquires, removing her boots. Rock shakes his head, closes his eyes, and says "Maybe I should get a tattoo to cover it up." His tone is melancholic and almost appears to be slightly upset. Revy blankly stares at Rock and proceeds to unzip her tracksuit top, revealing a sleeveless grey shirt. Smirking at Rock, she tosses her tracksuit top to the ground and removes her grey shirt, exposing her breasts. She then reaches for the waistline on Rock's dress pants and pulls on them, saying "I heard that showering together saves a couple gallons of water. Protecting the environment and all."

Rock opens his eyes and smirks back at Revy. He forces a pained laugh, and then immediately suppresses all his thoughts, lunging at Revy's neck. He caresses her breasts with his left hand and kisses her neck, thinking of something to say. Failing to say anything, he smiles and removes his dress shirt as Revy playfully pushes him into the bathroom, shutting the door behind them.

Stepping into the Yellow Flag, the sky orange and the sun almost completing its descent, Fred Viapiano surveys the fine establishment. Dressed in a red and white Hawaiian shirt, dark green slacks, and black sandals, the 'Ndrangheta boss watches a European expatriate arm wrestle a Vietnamese local as what appears to be European escort girls watch the contest. A couple of patrons in a nearby table take note of the contest and start wagering money on the contestants. Viapiano turns his attention to the left, zeroing in on a table near the bar counter. A long-haired blonde woman in a pink tank top and dark blue jeans sips on Don Julio Añejo tequila, straight from the bottle. She puts the bottle down and turns toward a napkin covered in salt. Eda pinches the salt with her right hand and, after staring at it for several seconds, tosses it over her left shoulder, to the minor annoyance of Bao the bartender. By Eda's side, resting diagonally on the edge of the table, is an aluminum crutch. Viapiano smirks to himself and approaches Eda's table.

Without introducing himself, he sits down on a table across from Eda. Smirking to himself, he folds his arms on the table and stares at her, not saying a word. Eda reaches for the bottle of tequila and takes a few more sips from it, staring at Viapiano, and also not saying a word. The silence continues for a minute, as Bao stares at the table with slight discomfort. He reaches under the bar counter and checks that his shotgun is still there.

After another minute passes, Eda suddenly blurts out "Are you going to say anything or are you expecting a lap dance?" Viapiano looks down at the table and laughs, saying "Missy, we haven't met before, but you did business with a friend of ours, and…" "I know who you are, Viapiano. The fuck you want?" Eda sternly replies. "Straight to business, lady. I like that…alright the fuck do we start from? Oh I got it…as I recall, your organization and my organization had this little…thing going on, you know what I'm saying?" Viapiano answers, shuffling his hands as he talks.

Eda smirks to herself and takes another sip of tequila, saying "Funny you say that, cause as I recall…the only business was between me and Luca. No organizations…no nothing. And since he is currently six feet under, I'd say that any business has been finished. Concluded…over and done. So I ask you again, the fuck you want from me?" Viapiano cups his hands in front of Eda and says "Those 400 kilos of blow that Luca gave to you? He didn't have real ownership of them…he was running a consignment operation…so to speak. Back in Vancouver, those drugs belonged to me…and you know…I kinda fucking want them back. Like now." Eda shrugs her shoulders and says "He sold me the stuff for information, so I say he fulfilled his side of the bargain." Viapiano runs his right index finger along the table and says "You see, whatever Luca was doing here…it wasn't what any of us in the organization wanted. So lady…where the fuck is my yayo?"

Eda laughs and says "I think you should get out of here." Bao hears this and grips tightly on the buttstock of his shotgun. Viapiano takes a quick scan of the bar, and then turns to Eda, saying "Nah, I don't think so, I don't think so at all. I think you reasonably knew that Luca, the stunad, was playing with things that didn't belong to him, and even if you didn't, I really don't care." Eda glares at Viapiano and says "I seriously don't think you know who you are speaking to right now." Viapiano chuckles twice and immediately afterwards darts an annoyed glare at Eda, saying "Oh I say otherwise, Barry Seal. I say that the blow is long gone and that you owe me. But since I'm a reasonable guy, I'll just knock down restitution to a few small favors, nothing crazy. Let's say…three favors, just me asking for information. Three's the magic number, you know?"

Eda kneels forward at Viapiano and gives an incredulous smile, saying "Are you actually trying to shakedown a federal agency that has uprooted entire governments in the span of years?" Viapiano frowns and kneels back, putting his arms to his chest as to appear to be misunderstood. He shrugs his shoulders and says "Get out of here! Who says anything about security agencies? The way I see it, the only business we have is between you and me. No organizations, no nothing. I think it will be kosher if we keep it this way…no need for anyone in Virginia to know what you did with Luca…or anyone here in Roanapur for that matter."

Eda groans and grinds her teeth, visibly defeated. After glancing at her feet, she turns back to Viapiano and says "You got all the aces here. What's to stop you from asking for more favors when the well runs dry?"

Viapiano climbs out of his seat and approaches Eda, getting within inches of her. As a few patrons stare at the scene before them and as Bao props his shotgun on the bar counter, Viapiano gets within centimeters of her face and angrily says "Wanna know what's stopping me? Because I stand by my fucking word, unlike you and your bullshit nun clothes and your sacrilegious bullshit church. You got some fucking balls, disrespecting the Lord Jesus Christ like that, huh? Where you get off pulling shit like that, you fucking whore?!" Eda laughs at Viapiano's hypocrisy and says "Coming from a real model to society like you, that means a lot to me. Yeah, maybe I'll take what you say to heart…you clown!"

Viapiano reaches for Eda's hair and grasps tightly on it, glaring at her with rage. Not seeing Eda draw a Glock 17L, he hisses at Eda and says "You want to be a fucking comedian huh, you fucking zoccola?! Let me ask you something, are you even Catholic? Have you even read the fucking book?" Eda snarls at Viapiano and angrily replies "I was raised a Lutheran, key word being 'was'. Now, a deal is a deal, so get your hands off my hair, go home, and search your closet for your fucking shinebox!"

Viapiano grins menacingly at Eda, letting go of her hair, as the bar goes completely silent. He points at her, sarcastically smiles, and says "That's very good…I like that." Turning away from Eda, he approaches the exit, muttering under his breath "Very good…very clever." The patrons give Viapiano a wide berth as he exits the bar, still muttering "Very good…very clever."

Seated in an outdoor bar next to a pillar, Black Lagoon Company, dressed as they were earlier, relax and enjoy the ocean breeze. Adjacent to the bar is an empty public pool, the water reflecting the moonlight. A few tourists sit on poolside beds, reading books or playing checkers under a clear parasol. The bar is mostly empty, with a single bartender tending to a few tables. Rock sips on a bottle of Suntory Premium Malt's Beer, Revy alternates between a cigarette and a glass of Kim Son Sticky Rice Wine, Dutch meditates on a glass of Appleton Estate V/X rum, a half empty bottle next to him, and Benny watches as the bartender places a tumbler full of dark liquid on the table, saying "Rum and Coke."

Taking advantage of a rare silence amongst the four, Dutch starts singing quietly to himself 'Pieces of a Man' by Gil-Scott Heron. "I saw my daddy greet the mailman. And I head the mailman say. Now don't you take this too hard Jimmy…cause they laid off nine others today," Dutch mutters quietly enough that only Benny overheard what he said. He continues "He could hardly understand…that he was only talking to…pieces of a man." Dutch takes a sip of his rum and glances melancholically at the pool, watching the moon reflect off the water. He continues "Burden of his shame. And for some reason, he never turned my way." Benny gives his boss a concerned look, and turns away when Dutch turns to look at him. Quieting his singing, he continues "Sound of sirens, come knifing through the gloom. They don't know what they are doing…they could hardly understand. That they are only arresting…pieces of a man."

He sighs and reaches into his pants for a pack of Natural American Spirit and a lighter. Fishing out a cigarette, he continues to sing, almost hum "He was always such a good man…he was always such a strong, strong man." He lights his cigarette and takes a drag, singing "Yeah, I saw him go to pieces." He knocks ash off his cigarette and onto an ashtray, concluding "I saw him go to pieces." The ash falls onto the ashtray and breaks apart, an ember fizzing out.

"What was that? You were singing something, Dutch?" Benny inquires, taking a sip of his cocktail. "Yeah, Gil-Scott Heron," Dutch replies, matter-of-factly. Benny points at Dutch with his tumbler and says "Not my type of my music, but he's pretty good. I heard a couple of his songs. More of a Waylon Jennings fan." "Ugh, I should have ordered something else," Revy replies, coughing, slightly drunk off the rice wine "this tastes like it came out of a donkey's pisshole."

"You know Dutch, you did mention Oakland before, a couple of times. And Roscoe did too. What were you doing there, if you don't mind?" Benny inquires. Dutch takes a long drag of his cigarette and says "Well, since you know the big stuff already, more or else, might as well say. I was with the Black Panthers. Was with them before I enlisted into the USMC with Roscoe…back in 68 and until we enlisted in 71. I got interested into them after they protested the Mulford Act, which banned open carry of guns in California. I quit my last year of high school, left my mother, and dragged Roscoe with me to Oakland. Over there, one of the co-founders, Henry Isaacs, stressed survival techniques and taught everyone them. That's where I got my combat training…not with the marines. That training actually got us deployed faster than most people…my superiors over there were a bit suspicious and probably guessed where I learned to shoot, but you don't get picky with volunteered help when a war is dragging on."

"Well that explains why Shane Caxton called bullshit on your war experience," Benny mutters, which causes Dutch to jerk his head and stare at Benny. A bit irritated, he surveys the bar for anyone sitting nearby, and then says "Wait a minute. Caxton said that? Look, I get it…I didn't get the lingo down like he does, I was only in training for a month and in Vietnam for four months. I went AWOL with Roscoe during An Lộc, lived across the border with Roscoe until I snuck into Laos, stayed there for a while until we were forced into Cambodia and joined the Khmer Rouge when they were overthrowing the Khmer Republic. I spent time in Indochina, no doubt about that." Benny takes a sip of his drink and says "I don't mean anything by it, and it doesn't matter to me either way. I trust you Dutch, we all do."

Dutch waves Benny off and says "That wasn't a concern. I'm just saying this now to get it out of the way, since you all met Roscoe and heard a few things. Anyway, I fought with the Khmer Rouge, me and Roscoe. We got rewarded with indefinite imprisonment, and I do not want to ruin the evening by describing the specifics. Eventually, Roscoe and I managed to break out. I took him to Jakarta, ditched him there, and then stopped in Kuching, where I overheard about the existence of some city called Roanapur, and I made that my next destination. The torpedo boat had a fully stocked armory, and I sold off most of it for money. That's when Black Lagoon Company, a one-man operation at first, basically started."

"Why the hell did you go AWOL, again?" Revy asks, confused. Dutch sighs and says "This is…admittedly very stupid. When I was with the Black Panthers, one of our main sources of income was selling Mao Zedong's red books. I remember being given a few twenties and being sent to the Chinatown in San Fran. $40 got us crates of the books, which were then sold for four, five, sometimes eight times what we bought them for, usually at local universities. For the little effort, it was a sizeable amount of money. Henry Isaacs got to making them mandatory reading, and for me the book felt like the answer to everything. My logic then was, why force it in America when you could defend it where it already is. That's why I joined the marines…I basically used them to pay for my trip to Indochina. Now I know, very, very dumb, and Roscoe and I almost starved to death in the jungles. Course, I was young and stupid back then, and life kicked all of both out of me in equal measure. I still read the book every now and then to see what exactly went wrong."

"Life has a way of doing that to everyone," Benny blurts out, to which everyone nods in agreement. Revy raises her glass of rice wine and says "That's some shit that I can drink to!" The bartender gives Revy a dirty look as she raises her glass for a toast, which everyone makes. Revy forces herself to finish the drink, almost gagging. Looking at her empty glass, Revy turns to the bartender and smiles, saying "Hey you! I need something to chase it down! Make me a zombie!" Rock glances at Revy's empty cup and says "Revy that's your four drink. A few more and your wish will be granted." Revy smiles and turns to Rock, smacking him across the forehead, saying "Fuck you! What's that supposed to mean?! You think I can't take it? Eat a dick!"

Rock turns to the bartender and says "Hủy đơn hàng. (Cancel the order)." He fishes out several Vietnamese notes of 100,000 dong, the currency a purplish red color showing a portrait of Ho Chi Minh. He drops the currency on the table and turns to Revy, saying "Let's get back to the motel before you drink yourself into a Herculean hangover." Smiling and, uncharacteristically, happily drunk, she yells "Hey, hey!" in protest as Rock pulls her out of her seat. Dutch and Benny stare and shake their heads as Rock pulls Revy on his shoulder and carries her away. He turns to Dutch and Benny and says "We got work tomorrow, and if she starts seriously drinking, I'm going to have to compete. And Marty said that we're waking up a bit early, so no way I could survive." Benny and Dutch wave Rock off as he exits the outdoor bar and steps on the sidewalk of Trần Phú street.

"Hey Rock…I think I'm drunk…" Revy says, laughing to herself. Rock smirks and says "Just about." As they turn left at the corner onto Tuệ Tĩnh street, a couple of young Vietnamese adults, around their early 20s, spot Rock and Revy and proceed to laugh. Revy notices this and starts yelling "Hey, the fuck you looking at me for?! You won't be fucking laughing when your teeth are up your ass sideways!" The two Vietnamese locals give Revy dirty looks and walk past her. Rock drags her along and says "Revy, you are a Chinese-American in Vietnam, and a tourist on top of it all. Do you want to start something? The only way they could hate you more is if you started cursing them out in French." As the two walk near their motel, Revy sarcastically laughs and says "Maybe I do want to start some shit." She turns her head and focuses on the two locals, who are now a few meters away, yelling "HEY YOU! SACRE BLEU, UHH…SACRE BLEU THIS!" She grabs onto her crotch and leans her pelvis forward as the two Vietnamese locals watch and burst out into laughter. Rock shakes his head and mutters "Very nice, real intimidating stuff."

He drags Revy into their motel room and lets her lie down sprawled on the bed. Starting to sober up, she immediately climbs off the bed and heads into the bathroom, as Rock removes his shoes, dress shirt, and pants. He removes his socks as Revy exits the bathroom in her sleeveless grey shirt and white underwear. She spots Rock, face down on the bed, and smirks, approaching him. She climbs onto his back and says "It's only 11 P.M., Rocky boy. You want to watch a movie or…"

Rock groans loudly and grimaces, slightly flailing his arms. Revy rolls her eyes and says "Alright Rock…you've been acting like Abe Vigoda crawled up your ass and croaked. You got something eating you, just say it." Rock exhales a deep breath and says "Okay…I guess. This whole work with the dumping and the toxic gas…it has me thinking." Revy laughs and says "Rock…I was joking about the saving the environment thing earlier." Rock turns to Revy and says with a stern look "Revy, my grandparents died from Minamata Disease." Revy raises her shoulders and asks "What the hell is that?"

Rock sighs once again and says "This factory in Japan was dumping mercury waste into a bay. Every summer from 1946 until 1956 when the disease was discovered, my grandparents would vacation there. They would eat the fish locally brought from the contaminated waters without realizing it. By the time my grandfather was 60, he was already losing the feeling in his arms and would have muscle spasms. My grandmother had her arms crippled and she went deaf, then insane, and had to be institutionalized."

Revy rubs Rock's neck and says "Yea, that's fucked up. But we don't know anyone here, so who cares. Who are they to us, and who are we to them? Money is money, whatever the fuck Marty is doing, that's on him." Rock mutters a "Hmph", followed by saying "It's that easy to rationalize it? Just like that?" Revy smirks and says "Seventy-five grand…at least. Split four ways, that's thirty-seven and half grand for us. We come in, we do what we got to do, and we get out. Marty is doing the real polluting, not us." Rock frowns and nods, saying "That is a lot of money in a short time." Revy climbs off Rock and presses herself against his left ribs, saying "So don't think about, okay?" Rock turns to Revy and places his left arm on her back, smiling, saying "Alright, I'll try to relax. Might as well start now."