So this takes place a long time ago in New York. Before Revy was known as Revy, before Roanapur, before the Cutlass, before the Lagoon Company.
I don't even know how many times this is now, but I don't own Black Lagoon.
EDIT: Added some breaks to [hopefully] make some of the transitions easier :)
In the kitchen of her stepparent's apartment in Manhattan's China town, 14 year-old Rebecca Lin's narrow wrists were tightly cuffed in her lap. Her pale face and tattered clothes were stained with blood that wasn't quite fresh but hadn't quite dried either. Though the room in which she sat was filled to capacity with Police and Forensic detectives either speaking to one another, shouting into radios, or yelling across the room, her world couldn't have been more absolutely silent. Her eyes were nothing more than vacant brown marbles that shed no tears for what she had done.
"Where's the rent you little cunt?!" Her stepmother barked as she slapped young Rebecca across the face.
The thought coursed through her over and over again. Her father, her real father, he wanted more for her than this. He wanted her to grow up and enjoy a life he never had the means to offer her. Unfortunately, life has an odd way of turning you on your head and forcing you to deal with the hand you're dealt. Her eyes turned slightly towards a wall in the slovenly living area of the apartment and again memories began to boil to the surface.
-
"Your mother asked you a question you little bitch!" Her stepfather shouted as he slammed her up against a wall.
He forced his hand to her throat; her small hands wrapping his wrist, her toes frantically tapping at the ground as he hung her in his hand. Faced with the choice of death, or paying for her right to continue living this hellish life, Rebecca eventually retrieved a handful of money from her pocket. Her stepfather immediately dropped her and darted for the money, sure to once again exact his authority over her as the back of his hand whipped across her face, a weak yelp escaping her lips.
"Next time give it to us when we ask for it you fuckin' little waste!"
-
'There won't be a next time.' She thought as a slight smile formed on her lips.
Her eyes diverted towards the home's new centerpiece, which was also the center of the action about the apartment; two bodies lie on the living room floor covered in light sheets. Blood had permeated the sheets giving indication of the trauma the bodies had suffered and the already stained carpet beneath them had darkened along the edges of the sheets.
Finally, a fragment of a conversation between two detectives broke through her thoughts, "I can't believe such a young girl could do something like this."
She knew this feeling; this unending warmth that flowed through her veins. It wasn't guilt, nor sadness or remorse; it was pride.
-
"Put that fuckin' thing down you stupid bitch!" Her stepfather ordered of the Smith and Wesson 439 Rebecca had squared on his chest.
Much more calm than her stepfather, her stepmother attempted to reason with her, relying on the soothing motherly tone every woman instinctually knew, "C'mon sweetie, just put the gun down. Everything will be different now, I promise."
Having been beaten to tears by these two pieces of shit on a daily basis, Rebecca knew this cunt's words were absolutely worthless.
The gun shook ever so slightly in her hand and her stepmother immediately pounced on the child's weakness, "What are you going to do? Shoot us?"
-
Rebecca looked down at her hands; small, frail, and soaked in blood. At this time of day, any normal girl her age would be among her friends in the high-school cafeteria, deep in discussion of boys and other things of a teenage nature. Of course if she weren't detained, and this had been any other day in her life, Rebecca would undoubtedly be walking Mott Street in search of a "customer".
But the officers that surrounded her didn't care about that little tidbit. That the broken shell they had handcuffed and subdued several hours ago had been beaten and raped countless times, by countless people, not the least of which now lay dead just a few feet from her.
"Hold still you fucking little…" Her stepfather shouted.
Rebecca's eyes slammed shut and she winced as the memory of her stepfather's endless abuse berated her thoughts. The memory of that horrendous man forcing himself on her in the company of laughing friends, then offering them their turn.
"Chief!" A rookie detective shouted in out-of-breath panic as he entered the room, "We've got five more bodies in three different apartments!"
The exchange brought Rebecca back to reality for just a moment.
"Where?" The chief asked.
"First and second floor."
"Shooting?" The chief asked bringing about a nod from the detective, "Get down there and see if they found any casings."
"Yes sir."
-
Rebecca calmly walked down a flight of stairs in her stepparent's apartment building; her clothes covered in blood. Her light body coerced no noise from the aged wooden stairs beneath her feet. She continued silently to the door of one of her stepfather's friends and knocked with the barrel of the semi-automatic she held. An older woman in a nightgown opened the door and before she could even react to image of the blood-soaked and gun carrying girl before her, Rebecca put a bullet between her eyes.
The shot instantly brought about a panicked scream from a man within the house, "Martha!!"
As he rounded the corner, he found himself staring down the same gun that had killed his wife. She took him in for just a second, the memory of the violent acts he had performed on her controlling her hand as she fired off two shots to the head in quick succession. Without any word or thought, she turned and walked back to the staircase to head down another flight.
-
"Michael and Martha Selentano." An officer informed the rookie.
"Any shell casings?" He asked.
"Yep…" The officer replied as he raised a zip-top bag containing three bronze casings into view, "…same as upstairs; 9x19."
"Fuck." The rookie replied simply.
The detective quickly made his way back upstairs to report his findings to the chief. When he returned to the apartment, his eyes immediately locked on Rebecca. She could feel his gaze and slowly turned to return the stare. Her hair ominously framed her face as her eyes met his, her stare chilling him to the core. There was nothing behind those eyes. No remorse. No regret. Not even the vague hint of satisfaction that made your everyday sociopath nothing more than a cliché. Her eyes were as void as the vacuum of space and as the rookie walked to his superior, he was the one who could now feel her eyes on him.
"What'd you find?" The chief asked.
His eyes now locked once again on Rebecca's, the young detective replied, "They're the same."
The Police chief looked on the little girl with a smile on his face, "You sure made a mess didn't you girlie?"
Whether or not the chief recognized her was irrelevant but she did recognize him; he had been one of her regulars over the past three months.
"You sure are pretty you little chink whore."
While the chief was still too busy laughing to himself about the punishment he knew would be doled out in a courtroom, the detective noticed a shift in Rebecca's stare. She was no longer staring at him, but at the man next to him. Her eyes were filled with hatred and they completely entrapped the rookie's gaze, so much so that neither he nor any of the others in the room noticed as she began to shift in her seat.
-
"Rebecca! Put, the gun down!" He stepmother calmly ordered once again.
Still failing to do as she was told, her stepfather once again attempted to take control of the situation, "You fucking little bitch! When I get my hands on you…"
bang
Despite being shot in the dead center of the ten hole, her stepfather still felt nothing but contempt for the little girl and charged her.
bang
The following shot blew the top of his head clean off and he crumbled to the floor, nothing more than a bag of flesh and bones. Her stepmother was frozen in fear as Rebecca turned to face her.
-
The chief continued to laugh and the detective continued to grow even more unsettled. He had been taught to read a person's face but this was like nothing the academy ever could have prepared him for. This child wasn't one of the statistics his professors had used as an example; she was an amalgam of every trait he was taught to be cautious of. He felt what was coming but was terrified well beyond his ability to move.
Rebecca hadn't moved in hours and everyone in the room had written her off as being mentally traumatized; incapable of any further violence. With no warning or telegraph, Rebecca leapt from her seat and darted towards the chief. She locked her fingers and slammed her hands into his crotch bringing the chief to double over in pain; his neck now easily within her reach.
-
"Rebecca…" Her stepmother attempted to plead, but it would be no use.
Rebecca's lips cracked into a smile of clenched teeth and the shooting began. While she was but a mere 14 years old, she was old and educated enough to know how the human body worked; to know where she could shoot to inflict the maximum amount of pain without killing the odious woman that called herself her mother.
The Smith and Wesson's slide had locked bringing her to retrieve one of the magazines she had taken with the gun and clumsily perform her first magazine change.
Her stepmother lie near death and once again attempted to plead with her as an emotionless Rebecca gave the slide a tug, releasing it and chambering a round, "Please Rebecca. We were just trying to make you strong."
Young Rebecca knelt down and pressed the barrel to the woman's forehead, "You did a good fuckin' job."
She squeezed the trigger blowing out the back of her stepmother's skull.
-
She lassoed the Chief's neck with her cuffed wrists, locked her hands and leapt over his back, snapping his neck like a stick of celery. He was stone dead as her feet touched the ground and the three seconds it had taken her to take another life had passed. Her large brown eyes once again locked with the rookie detective and had again shaken him to the core.
Finally, after what had seemed like an eternity, several men tackled the young girl. As they began to beat her, her eyes remained trained on the young rookie. She didn't wince as they slammed their batons into her ribs. She didn't scream as their boots crashed into her back. She didn't cry as every last one of them called all-manner of racial slurs on her.
She had no tears, no feelings, and no cares left as a cold fact of life became known to her; what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, and one day, she would be stronger than all of them.
I realize some of what I did here may seem a bit odd. I just always wondered what it would take; how hard a life must a child have to become what Revy became. I don't know if I hit the mark, but I wrote it, it makes me shiver and that works for me.
-jm