Chapter 4
The nightmares waking him up in the middle of the night had prevented Ethan from being a morning person for most of his life. Very few people could be fully functional on only three or four hours of sleep. That was a hard fact. Ethan wasn't one of them.
He had been involved in events that allowed him less than that, and he had suffered greatly for it. His body needed time to repair itself. Three hours didn't give him enough time. He needed at least five to have any rest, he preferred seven to eight though.
With having gotten a full night's sleep he felt really good. Good enough to walk to the office instead of catching a rickshaw like he usually did in the mornings. It still amazed him that such antique types of transportation were utilized. Needless to saw it took him longer than usual.
When he arrived at the building he stopped and took a deep breath. Everything seemed better when you were well rested. He didn't think anything could ruin the day. If he had thought about it, he would have remembered how things always played out for him.
Opening the door to the office he stepped in. At first he didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. After a second he noticed something on the coffee table. His eyes went wide when he had finally processed what he was seeing.
His suitcase was lying open on the table. Every weapon contained inside on display for the world to see. His M4 lay next to the case assembled. His Colts, Berettas, Glocks, and every other handgun he owned shone in the morning lights.
"I think it is time we talked. Why don't you take a seat," a deep voice ordered him.
Looking at the couch and one of the chairs he saw the rest of Lagoon Company staring at him. Processing more he registered the 870 lying across Dutch's lap. A flurry of emotions warped through his head. Everything from dread to betrayal.
Knowing when he was in a situation he couldn't win was paramount to a mercenary's survival. Ethan took a seat across from Dutch, never letting his eyes wander from the shotgun in his bosses hand. He couldn't think enough for him to figure out was going on. He had feared that this day would come, he just hadn't expected it to be this soon.
He could only utter one word quietly, "Fuck."
"Your going to think fuck in a minute you little bastard. Not only do you have the balls to insult me, you hid this little trove of treasure. I can't wait until Dutch tells me to blow you apart," Revy cackled, glee apparent in her voice.
"I should have dumped them overboard before that smuggling ship left port. You have questions you want answered. Ask them. I can't guarantee an answer to all of them, but I'll answer what I can," Ethan said solemnly.
He knew he was cornered, and he had known something like this was inevitable. He just wished inevitable was a year from now or more. At least when Revy had started to like him. He knew that this might be his curtain call, and he was feeling something he hadn't felt in a long time. Fear. What took years of hard battles and a mountain of bodies to erase, a single suitcase had brought back.
Rock spoke first, "Why did you hide this from us?"
"I wanted to forget it myself. I have spent every day since I was fourteen fighting somewhere. I know just about every way to kill a man. And have used all those ways. I have more blood on my hands alone than most African dictators. Almost all of them so I could earn a paycheck. I got tired of it, and I decided to retire," he answered bluntly, no use sugarcoating it.
Dutch went next, "Why did you start?"
Ethan laughed, "I had one of those perfect childhoods."
Revy stiffened when she heard this. Rock and Benny looked confused. He couldn't tell what Dutch was thinking, he always wore those damned shades, even when he slept.
"My mother cheated on my dad. He worked nights, and at least three nights a week she had some asshole or another over. She would lock me in a little closet under the stairs in our house. Full of spiders and who knows what else. She would leave me in there for hours until she got tired of getting her brains fucked out. My dad knew, but he didn't give a shit, he didn't want to shell out the cash for a divorce. That would have eaten into his drinking money. Booze was about the only thing he cared about. He was an angry drunk too, and he demanded perfection. If I came home with anything lower than an A+ I was beaten half to death and told I would either shape up or he would cut my throat one day. The only kind person in my family was my grandpa. He was an old Marine. Fought in WWII and Korea. My father was too much of a coward to oppose him. He had an old Elco himself. It was a demilitarized model. Lived out on a lake until he died. When he did my dad sold the boat and drank himself into the hospital. I took that as a chance to leave. I stole an old .38 wheelgun my dad owned and hopped the border into Mexico. Worked as a gunhand and went from there."
Revy jumped on board, "How old are you?"
"I'll be thirty sometime next month. I forgot the exact day, haven't exactly celebrated it in a few years. Been too busy."
Revy silently fist pumped in celebration of her guessing his age.
Benny asked the big question then, "Whats your real name?"
Ethan froze. What was his real name? How long had it been since he used it?Why couldn't he remember? Had he really been fighting that long? Used that many names? Was it even possible?
"I..I..I... I can't remember my real name. I...can't," tears rolled down his cheek.
He couldn't remember the last time he had cried. It had become a foreign concept to him even before he had run away from home. But now he let himself break down. Years of repressed feelings and memories flooded him, eating away at a resolve that had made men fear him.
"Wow. He puts on such a tough face, and then be balls like a motherfucking baby. This guy cannot be for real can he Dutch?"
Dutch looked over at Revy and then back to Ethan. He understood now what the others had picked up on. A tired mercenary who was wanting a new lease on life. The man sitting before him now showed what man could end up like. Broken. Lost. Uncertain.
"You've been in the war business for almost sixteen years. That is a long time. My only question is why you wanted to sign on as a ships mechanic when you had that much experience with a gun," he asked, his voice softening unconciously.
Ethan didn't answer immediately. He hardly heard the question, but Dutch wasn't in any hurry. He kinda understood what he meant. Men got tired of war.
Eventually Ethan answered, "I wanted to forget. I was in the game too long. I learned to be a ships mechanic so I could travel between continents easily. I got to where I enjoyed it. So I decided I would like to do that for the rest of my life."
The words Dutch uttered next surprised his three other employees, "I understand."
Revy was the first one to object, "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN YOU UNDERSTAND. HE HAS LIED TO US FROM THE BEGINNING. WE SHOULD BE KILLING HIM AND LETTING SAWYER EARN HER PAY. NOT TREATING HIM LIKE HE IS A PSYCH PATIENT WITH A PANIC ATTACK."
"Revy, haven't you every thought of leaving the violence behind. Of course I doubt you have seen violence like he probably has," Dutch turned to Ethan who was starting to compose himself, "You haven't been one of those mercs who stands around and looks pretty have you?"
Ethan looked up, "No. I've done pretty much everything. I have slaughtered women and children in Africa because some rich foreigner wanted access to the oil deposits under their village. I have sniped government officials that disagreed on certain points with my employers. I've slit a man's throat with a piece of barbed wire in front of his family because he killed a cow on some rich european mogul's land in Kenya. I have had men under my command die in the mud around me. I have trained rebels whose leaders threw them away needlessly in an open attack just because someone gave them a couple of crates of used Kalashnikovs."
"Your hands are stained red with blood. Blood that won't wash off no matter how hard you try. I understand why you wanted to leave that behind, forget it completely," Dutch told him in a reassuring tone.
Ethan stared at the weapons sitting in the case. Parts of his life that he couldn't run from. Hunks of plastic and steel that held memories he would rather get rid of. But they were a part of him.
"Dutch. I think I understand what he is saying. I just don't understand what it means," Rock said.
"I hope you never have to Rock, I really do. No one should have to live their life like that. No one."
Ethan looked Dutch in the eye for the first time, "Do I live or die now that you know my story?"
Dutch shifted a little in his boots. He knew that all he had to do was say the word and Revy would gun him down without a second thought. Usually he wouldn't hesitate. Now however, he couldn't do it. He hadn't realized just how right about it he was.
"You live, and you still have a place on the crew. I won't ask you to do anymore than you hired on for. A man has a right to his secrets, and his reasons for keeping them. I guess the real question is whether you will stay or go."
Absolute chaos broke out when Dutch finished.
"WHAT THE HELL!"
"YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS DUTCH!"
"WHAT IF HE DECIDES TO KILL US TO KEEP HIS SECRETS!"
"THIS SHOULD BE A DECISION WE ALL MAKE!"
"YOU SHOULD LET ME BLOW HIS BRAINS OUT FOR LYING IN THE FIRST PLACE!"
"ENOUGH!"
Dutch's yell quietened down the crew. Ethan sat there, his eyes fixed on a point somewhere beyond Dutch.
Ethan let himself get lost in thought. Should he stay on the Lagoon? Why not, it was good work, if a little dangerous. But what about Revy? Rock and Benny might come to accept him at some point, but Revy was an unknown. He would be hard pressed to find another job around Roanapur that wouldn't require him to fight. At least on the Lagoon he was only required to keep the engines going.
"I'll stay," he said, whispering quietly.
"What," Dutch asked.
Ethan picked his head up and took a deep breath, "I said I'll stay. And its going to take more than some perpetually PMSing bitch gunslinger to run me off. I took the job, and I aim to keep it. No matter the danger to my life."
Before he had finished he had launched himself off the chair and grabbed Revy's wrists, just as her hands closed on her guns. He held on with an iron grip as she struggled.
"LET GO OF ME. LET GO," she screamed as she thrashed her self around trying to loosen his grip.
"NOT UNTIL I HAVE HAD MY SAY," he screamed back lowering his tone when she stopped, "I have seen more bloodshed than you probably ever will. And if killing is the only thing you enjoy in this world you may as well paint a wall with your own brains. You will find that you feel empty if you live long enough. I came to Roanapur because I thought that nobody would give a flying fuck about my past, and that maybe I could forget and live out my life peacefully. All those guns have a story behind them that might make even you squirm. I recognize you and me are the same. We're gutter trash, the smell will linger around us no matter how long we live. I will admit I don't have a right to judge you, and I won't even try. I don't know your story, and I won't make you tell it. If you want to try to kill me, fine, but I can assure you it won't be me going in the ground. I don't know how long you have held a gun in your hand, and I don't know the first life you took. But I can assure you, if you look far enough inside your soul, you will find a spot that wishes for peace."
He let her go gently. He expected her to fall against him crying because he was right. He hoped he was wrong about her though. He wasn't. She fell against him and cried harder than he had. She had a lot of bad memories that she had repressed, and they were hitting her all at once.
Looking to the side he saw Rock standing next to them, a worried expression planted on his face. Gently handing the crying woman to him he turned to the table. Breaking the gun down quickly with years of practice he put it back into its slots and closed the suitcase. He walked to the door.
"I will see you Monday. I need time to get my thoughts in order. It will be a while before Revy recovers though. She was worse off than I was," With that he left.
The only sounds were Revy's sobs and the words of comfort . Benny remained seated, an unreadable look on his face. Dutch sat and pondered Ethan's words. Words that held a punch harder than that of a prize fighter with each breath.