Author's Note

I do not own any of the content presented other than the story concept.

Black Lagoon and Baki belong to their respective owners.

That being said, prepare for character death and a whole lot of violence.

September 23rd, 1998

Revy's Beretta Cutlass' barked again.

A nine-millimeter round found its place in the skull of some gangster, body flopping on the ground of the alley Revy was shooting down. A staccato of gunfire from an Ak barked back, forcing Revy into cover. Beside her were two Triad gunmen, both holding G3 battle rifles. Across the alley entrance stood Dutch, holding his own M16A1. Peering around the corner, he used the mounted 3.4x scope to release a trio of 5,56 slugs into one of their chests.

Dutch backed into cover again, shaking his head as another flurry of rounds chipped at the wall by his shoulder, "I'm really sick and fuckin' tired of these guys. Did you Triad boys get the fuckin' guy yet?"

Revy peeked around the corner with one of them, the Triad unleashing his G3 in fully automatic, cutting down two men while Revy gunned down three in chest and headshots as they tried advancing up the alley, leaving a few more at the back end.

Lagoon Company, Sawyer, Shenhua, and Lotton were tasked with rescuing a VIP of Chang's who'd been taken hostage by some new guys in town - trying to prove themselves by going after the big dogs. In this case, a Lieutenant of Chang's happened to be taken and held for ransom.

Well, it didn't go over very well for Chang, and he sent troves of men after agreeing to meet them somewhere. They sprung the ambush, taking most of them out, but they retreated with the Triad Lt. and hunkered in a series of buildings in the Eastern District. Revy, Dutch, and these two guys were the distraction while a task force with Shenhua, Lotton, and Sawyer tore in through another entrance.

An explosion roared in the distance, signaling that they had the guy.

Revy ducked back behind cover, swapping the magazine to her right Beretta, "Fuckin' A, finally!" The two Triad hardmen peered around the corner, M67 fragmentation grenades in hand. They chucked them down the alley, rolling into the position of these newbloods. Both grenades erupted, sending debris and body parts flying in tandem.

Revy, the two hardmen, and Dutch flung forward into the alleyway. Dutch let the M16 hang on his chest as he drew an S&W Model 19 .357 revolver from his hip. The four moved in a line, sweeping each crossing alley as they advanced.

Finally, they reached the pile of corpses at the alleyway's end. Men were blown in half, guts spilled, and others had limbs ripped from hips and torsos from the frags. Revy stepped over one of the men, pressing her boot onto his still-functioning throat. The man rose a stumpy hand as if begging for mercy.

Revy leveled her cutlass to his skull and pulled the trigger, snapping his head backward and sending the man to his maker.

"Fuckin' A."


Chang tugged a man in a hood towards a door. Lotton laid down cover fire behind him, with a burst of fire from his dual M712 Schnellfeuer machine pistols. Beside him, Shenhua flung one of her Kukri blades, the rope tied to her wrist, binding one of her two knives to her.

The weapon embedded itself into a man's neck, following suit with Shenhua yanking the cord and ripping the Kukri back to her. A trove of men advanced as soon as Lotton ran out of ammunition, ducking out the door as a rapport of Ak fire chipped the walls and floor. Shenhua rolled into the cover on her left in the form of a thick table.

"Sawyer, you cut them up!"

The room was the inside of some home that the gang had hastily converted into quarters. Cabinets sat awry, and they had pulled most of the doors from their hinges. Five black-dressed newcomers advanced past an open, dark corridor leading to a basement.

The rev of a chainsaw erupted from its dark maw and out bolted a short, dark-haired girl wielding a massive chainsaw. She moved low, swiping her chainsaw through the midsection of the closest man, bisecting him in a single blow.

The other four glanced, streaks of horror plastered on their faces as the girl hopped behind the first man, swinging the chainsaw high and cleaving through the second mans' jaw. Chang leaned back into the room and squeezed off three rounds, each finding a home in the hardmens' skulls, dropping them,

Shenhua emerged, clanging her kukri blades together, a smile forming on her mouth. "You do good job, Sawyer!"

Sawyer didn't answer, glancing around at the bodies, then deciding to leave. Chang stepped out of the doorway, followed by Sawyer and Shenhua.

Four hours later

Chang, Lagoon Company, Shenhua, Sawyer, and Lotton met at the Triad's headquarters after that incident. They found Chang's Lt. had minor injuries, which was well. After the hired help made the distractions and pulled his associate out, Chang sent the rest of his 'soldiers' to clear the newcomers out, making an example of the leader with execution by way of beheading.

Classic, but points needed to be made.

The group was inside a place owned by Chang, one of the Triads' fronts in Roanapur. Chang shook hands with the associate, named Jian-Li. Middle-aged, dark hair, tanned features, and a slim physique. His suit was a bit dirty from how he was treated, but that wasn't uncommon for the hardmen and others under Chang.

"Well," Chang stated, looking at the several who aided in Jian-Li's rescue, "Thanks, guys. I'll owe you one." Revy scoffed, hands resting on her dual-Berettas. "Yeah, pleasure knocking down some shitheads who think they're hot. Same old, every fuckin' time."

Dutch, Sawyer, and Lotton stayed silent.

Shenhua folded her arms over her chest, pouting, "They die too easy, they really bad." Dutch cracked a grin while Revy spurred a comment - "Yeah, maybe for you."

Chang clapped his hands as Jian-Li was taken elsewhere, "Alright. Well, I'll see you around, folks. Take care."

Chang departed the room with a wave, leaving the group to their devices.

Later that night

Revy slammed another liquor shot with her long-time compatriot, but not quite friend - Eda. The busty blonde dressed scantily when out, opposite her typical nun attire when at the Rip-Off Church. Revy, of course, wore the typical black tank top and short-cut blue jeans with a leather holster rig.

Further down the bar sat Dutch, Rock, and Benny with them. The trio was talking with Bao or trying to. Bao was busy serving drinks, as usual, catching the occasional joke and comment from Dutch as he, Benny, and Rock bullshitted.

"Well," Dutch continued, "That's the first time I've used that ol' M16 in a while. The last time I railed a trio of slugs like that into someone was a few years ago, before you got here, Rock." Rock offered a meager smile, taking a large swig of brown-colored liquor that burned going down the hatch.

"Well, if it felt better, maybe you should use it more often?"

Dutch considered the thought, nodding to himself. "Yeah. Maybe I will. What about you, Benny-boy? Got yourself a new piece of computer tech?"

The blond-haired male nodded, one hand itching his neck with some anxiety. "Yeah, got a new upgrade to the emitters. Can scramble signals, now. Like a jammer."

Dutch nodded appreciatively. "Right, right, you've wanted something like that for a while now."

Moments passed, and Dutch paused. Something felt off.

A chill passed up his spine, and an uncharacteristic twitch came off Dutch's eye, reverberating to his neck, causing a momentary spasm that shook him a moment.


Dutch placed the glass down, rubbing his neck.

"The fuck was that?"

Dutch turned around, confused expressions covering Benny and Rock.

Revy looked confused, as did Eda and half the bar. Revy rubbed her neck, looking to Bao. "Hey, Bao, what the fuck did you put in these goddamn drinks?!"

Bao raised his hands defensively, "I didn't put nothin' in your goddamn drinks, you fuckin' psychopath!"

Revy tilted her top over the bar, synchronously with Eda. "I swear to fuckin' christ, I-"

Eda flicked Revy in the ear. Revy whipped around, gripping Eda by the shirt and shoving her on the bar.

Eda spoke before Revy could - "Revy! Chill out! I fuckin' felt it too - hell, I think god damn half us did in here. Look around!"

Revy paused, loosening her grip to view the equally confused expressions from across the bar. Revy released her grip, grabbing the back of her neck, mouth twitching in an array of expressions. "Man, what the fuck was that?"


A calm, warm morning in the tropical country subsided with the sun's rays bearing onto the Lovelace mansion. There stood Roberta Lovelace, dressed in her maid clothing, shears in hand and snipping away at a hedge. Behind her in the courtyard, the fountain spring within the hedge garden, surrounded by the Lovelace mansion's various halls.

On the fountain's edge stood Garcia Lovelace, staring into the fountain. He was always deep in thought and mature for a young man, Roberta always told herself. Such a deserving boy for a family head. Beside him sat the other bodyguard capable maid, Fabiola Iglesias.

Even after Roanapur, she was still stiff and uptight. There she stood, straight as a pole and watching Master Garcia stare into the cool water. Roberta used her hand to wipe sweat from her brow, pondering how she was a good bodyguard and maid. Garcia's father would be proud to see the young master where he is now.

Roberta turned around to view the hedges, but something else had taken its place.

Instead, she looked into a pile of corpses, flashing with intermittent images of other dead men she's killed over the years. Blood soaked the shears in her hand, and in front of her among the bodies stood a slashed-throat corpse.

The vision disappeared as soon as it appeared, and the momentary nightmare was over.

Roberta had these before her final bouts in Roanapur, but now they seldom came to her. Moments after, something rushed from her stomach through her spine, accumulating at the base of her skull and sending a warm, tingling sensation throughout her whole body.

Roberta froze in place, staring blankly, mouth slowly opening as the sensation riveted her nerves. Roberta must have been standing frozen for some time because the next thing she could tangibly understand outside of this sensation was someone poking her lower back.

She turned around, coming face to face with the young master. "Young master, I - I, I froze, I saw something and-"

Garcia gripped Roberta's hand, squeezing it tightly, taking her out of the momentary lapse. "Roberta, it's okay. Just remember the patterns.."

Garcia pulled the palm of her hand open, using his finger to draw a star pattern in her palm. Slowly, Roberta's rapid breathing slowed down, her heart rate dampened, and finally, the sweat slowly dried off her head.

The young master always found some way to bring her out of her nightmares, whether it was like this or in other ways...

Roberta didn't smile, though.

"Young master, this was different... There was a feeling... It went up to my spine, and I saw bodies... I haven't had that feeling in a long time, young master. I'm worried."

Garcia frowned, gripping at the hems of her dress and staring endlessly into her midsection. Finally, Garcia spoke. "It's okay, Roberta," He said as he peered up into her eyes, a smile now covering his face. "I'm here to help you."

Later that night

His eyes cut through the jungle-like it wasn't there, bulging, swelling muscles pounding through the muck and mud and vines. His speed rivaled that of a sports car as he scythed through jungle foliage and tree limbs.

It didn't take long for the evil inmate known solely as 'Spec' to find his way up the jungle hill peeing over a mansion in Venezuela. Finding himself perched on a rock, Spec stopped and glared down at the mansion with a massive, toothy grin.

Spec could smell it.

The foul odor of a bloodhound within these sheep. And... A sheepdog, perhaps, but this bloodhound was a challenge he could never turn down. He'd have to find this blood-soaked dog and fight it.

Spec's eyes found themselves on a mansion.

He'd been alive so long that many things came to him naturally. Information about third world countries like this was one of many. The Lovelace family was one of thirteen in Venezuela, the poorest if his math was right.

Spec could smell the blood from someone else, though. His eyes peered to the court like a hawk, spotting a lone maid tending to the hedges. Like routine, she'd do it in the morning and the evening once a week.

Spec would take the trip down there. It wouldn't take long.

Roberta felt something odd as she trimmed the final hedge. The sensation was of a vulture, preying on her. Roberta's eyes gazed into the sky at a rocky perch in the hill that overlooked the manor. Something stared back, red-eyed and from that rock.

Roberta looked away.

One minute later, Roberta had placed the final tools in a locker located at the courtyard entrance. As she closed the door, she felt a presence, like the one she felt earlier, directly behind her. It was impossible how something could cross such a distance quickly, but...

Roberta peered over her left shoulder and locked eyes with a muscular giant. With tattoos covering his chest, shoulders, feet, and hands, A tanned criminal stood there she's never seen before. The man's head was shaped oblong, with an oddly protruding chin lined alongside finely accentuated musculature lining the rest of his face and body.

This man stood the height of giants, over seven feet tall, with no visible hair on his body. She didn't know his name, but the smell this man gave off was pungent and reek.

"Who are you?"

Spec grinned. This little lady before him reeked of the same stank that he did. Why was that? Those eyes told him, that's why. The eyes of a soldier; someone once drenched in an enemy's guts and blood.

Spec tilted his head back, "Why hello there, little lady. Fine night, tonight. Do you know why I came all this way?"

Roberta faced him fully, hands folding behind her back, the questioning glare still peering directly into Spec's eyes.

"You are trespassing. Who are you?"

Spec belted a laugh, slapping his thigh. "Why, I'm Spec! I've come all this way 'cause you reek of blood! You stink and have stunk for some time, ain't ya? And y'know what? I'm hungrin' for defeat, maid lady. And you're the first one I thought would fit such an occasion. So, how 'bout it? Let's fight, right now!"

Roberta inhaled, then exhaled slowly as the big man ranted before her. She took her glasses and cleaned them with a handkerchief, then returned them on the bridge of her nose.

"I cannot do that... I will not do that... The young master would be disturbed, and I will not partake in that action anymore."

Spec cackled, slapping his abdomen, "Well, little lady, if you don't fight me here 'n now, I'll make sure you fight. You don't want nothin' bad happenin' to little Lovelace, would ya?"

Roberta's eyes narrowed.

"I will respectfully decline your offer, and ask you to leave, Senor Spec."

Spec's maddeningly wide grin only got bigger as he leaned over Roberta, staring her in the eye.

"Okay, lady. You'll earn what you've received."

Roberta blinked, and Spec was gone, a trail of dust where Spec used to be.

Roberta turned around and locked the cabinet, praying what she saw was just an illusion.

The next morning

As Roberta feared the whole night, Garcia was late to morning supper. She and Fabiola crossed the whole manor to find the other maids roving about, tending to the various shrubberies and house items.

Finally, Roberta entered Garcia's quarters.


A mess of sheets and shattered glass remained on his bed. A note lies there.

"Come to Roanapur."

The last time she'd felt this urge of slaughter, it'd been the last time she was there.

It looks like she'd have to go there again.