okay. So COBRASTEVE brought up a mighty good point. it would make a nice chapter story, so i'll bite!

Also: I'm thinking of adjusting the rating. I realise I'm stretching the t rating a bit too far.


The skirt, already worn from the washing machine and rough landings, was threadbare by the time the blood stains had faded to an unnoticeable brown stain in the maroon fabric. When it pleated against her thighs she could feel how frayed and thin it became. Under the hot sun she could see her muscled thigh clearly through the fabric, and some patches it was still as thick as when she had stolen it at some thrift store.

Would she still wear it? Hell yes, she would. If to even get the smallest glance up her legs from Rock it would make her the smuggest gunwoman in Roanapur.

But Revy didn't try to care about that. She was pissed about it, well yeah, but she had bigger fish to fry.

What she cared about wasn't that stupid skirt, or how she fucked it even worse, it was her. Balalaika. That stupid voyeurism shit they both pulled. It's a real miracle Balalaika didn't snap her neck right then and there.

Since last week the Lagoon Company had really only done a short cargo trip for Chang and even that was uneventful. He'd asked them to be real careful with the shit as if it were carrying precious medieval glass, but Revy suspected inside was one poor soul that got on the bad side of the Triads again. They all piled onto the boat, and the weather was sunny and the wind had kicked up enough where it was almost pleasant outside.

On that trip Revy lay on one of the benches, bourbon bottle in her lax hand. Rock sat in one of the wooden chairs with his head tilted back and legs spread ever so slightly. He was dozing off, the giant geek, that was how dull the boat ride was. Raising the bottle to her chapped lips Revy gave him a once over. Like old Sis did to her. Fuck her.

The gaze down his face, his relaxed jaw, his shoulders, his dress shirt, where his cock was, then down his legs to his shined shoes. Imagining him naked was easy. More than one occasion did their group go on a 'beach day'; where he'd lie on a towel in the blistering sun trying to tan his pale body.

He wasn't bad on the eyes. Most women made that clear, especially Eda, even Sis had once given him a glance over in her peripheral vision. He was toned from the days of avoiding shrapnel and Revy's rage (which she could control now, by the way!).

There were times at night, or in the dusk when too much shitty liquor made Revy daydream on the couch where she'd imagine fucking him. She'd imagine climbing over him with her usual rough swagger and plant a rough one on him. Shove herself down on him as he cried out her name in between rough kissing. There's a condom in there somewhere. There'd be kissing of raw passion and they'd come and it'd be over. But Revy didn't know if she could.

"Rock," Her voice was rough. "Are you dosin' off over there or something? Dutch said he needs you on deck for those fucking Latinos."

He stirred, and did a sleepy half-smile that made Revy's heart lurch. "Yeah, I was just..."

"Being a lazy ass, yeah I fuckin' get it. No more bourbon for you." She sucked ass at flirting. Her hand twitched in anger. When Rock offered a cigarette she took it hastily, shoving it in her mouth instead of her foot. He light hers before his, and then ran a hand through his perfect half-combed hair absentmindedly.

Rock took care of himself, even other people, and Revy wished she could say that for herself.

She fucking wished she took the time to brush her hair or shave every day. She could pretty herself up, but it was better to not give a shit. You have to climb on others to reach the top. Hell, was she on top or the most bottom tier? Whatever, daisy-dukes and drinking until sunrise are bomb. But of course, her self-assurances on that topic fell flat on its ass once Lagoon met up with Balalaika again. God, Revy just wanted to gain ten inches in her presence.

The Russkie had one fist curled under her chin as she conversed with Dutch and Rock, utterly ignoring the street rat that leaned against the wall.

"Now about the Latinos... They said they wanted to buy? It seems their dealings with that Church proved unsatisfactory. Now they show up, kissing ass for even a machine gun?" She chuckled into her cigar. "Lucky for us."

"Ms. Balalaika... I could very well meet them on the docks, instead," Rock pointed out, obviously remembering the time she shoved her gun under his nose.

"But how would we know this isn't a pathetic setup? Hotel Moscow was promised a swathe cut into Brazil. I'm sick of potentials like them pretending not to speak English." She sounded tired. Her dry humor had Rock's tense shoulders uncoil. Revy's jaw clenched.

"About that, I was thinking of sending in Rock, and have him pretend not to know their language," Dutch interjected smoothly, crossing his arms. "Any moment where it'll seem suspicious, Revy'll tear them a new one."

Revy snapped to attention at the sound of her name; beforehand she was studying the fancy carpet beneath her dirty boots. These negotiations were long, and boring as hell, but she tagged along if even to just receive orders from one of Balalaika's comrades. Just to see her deep fried face. And everything else. Speaking of, she was still wearing her low-cut everything even in the hazy afternoon heat and Revy had to fight her gaze off. What was happening to her? Before she'd never even gave Balalaika a second glance and now it's unbearable to not think of her.

Rock couldn't help himself. "Wouldn't we be scaring them off? There is a large cut being offered and-"

"If they wanted easy why did Alejandro come crawling to us?" the mafia leader concluded. There was no need to answer her question. Revy squirmed in her impatience. The fact she'd have to be all quiet and still resonated on her nerves. "Get to it, I want this done by the end of the week, Dutch. I have other petty thugs to make examples of."

Dutch left first after a casual goodbye, then Rock followed after he gazed confusedly at Revy's slowness to leave. He paused at the door, intending to hold it open for her, and god did she want to punch him again right then and there for just being so stupidly polite.

"Just go," She assured mildly whilst hiding the curdling blood in her veins. Revy flicked her ponytail over her shoulder, meeting Balalaika's iced eyes.

"Don't think I forgot about you, Two Hands. I still owe you," she reassured coldly, as if she was telling the mailman she received the wrong damn package. Blowing smoke out of the corner of her mouth. One finger tapped the phone. Revy's mouth went dry. Her teeth clenched like a vice grip, nodding.

"Yeah. Yeah sis. Don't worry about paying it today or tomorrow." she licked her lips. They felt chapped and strained every time she talked; it was a matter of time until they bled.

Balalaika tilted her head slightly as if stretching a muscle. Revy felt like she was intruding on some private ritual; the magnificent Russian preparing for bed.

Three of Balalaika's comrades entered the room and Revy was unceremoniously kicked out. Back hitting the door, she blinked for a good hard minute before slamming her foot into the wallpaper. Red swarmed in her vision, for a good minute she thought she'd rip her fucking hair out.


Benny was playing the pop radio in the car and that made Revy swing the car door that much harder. She glared out the window, looking at the squabbling orphans and the overflowing trash cans and other shit no one else wanted. Dutch talked to Benny, ignoring her childish tantrum. Rock looked like an introspective douche in a feel-good movie with an ambiguous ending.

She fucking hates getting teased and played at, it just reminds her of the stupid fucking foster homes where the parents withheld her information whilst squishing her chubby cheeks. The lousy doctors that pretend not to understand why she tried to bite their hand when a stethoscope ran up her chest. It made Revy feel dumb, and yeah she didn't know her times tables but that didn't mean she couldn't damn well flip one.

That night, Revy sunk a finger inside of herself, trying to imagine an undone tie alongside an audacious grin on a man's body. Her wrist cramped when she finally came, and when she did it was in self-loathing hatred on just why couldn't she fuck Rock and get over it.

"Fuck," She grimaced when she thought of Fry Face in her naked crisped glory. Goosebumps rose on her upper arms as she imagined the caress of rough palms up her thighs; the trail of raised skin that long nails left.

Biting her bruised knuckles Revy attempted to hide a scream.

Yeah there's a chapter after this. It'll be out in quick quick time, lemme tell ya.