Disclaimer: I don't own Black Lagoon; Rei Hiroe does. Nor do I have any special insight into Revy's backstory past what is the anime/manga. This is all my interpretation.

Chapter 1: Until the Very End of You

The two of us,
All used and beaten up,
Watching fate as it flows down the path we have chose.
You and me,
We're in this together now
None of them can stop us now
We will make it through somehow
You and me
If the world should break in two,
Until the very end of me
Until the very end of you.

- "Until the Very End of You" copyright, Nine inch Nails

"It was beyond fucked up."

- Revy


Detective Alicia Turner turned off of Delancey Street into one of the side roads of the lower East Side to see the same familiar scene: The cluster of police cars and a lone ambulance. The flash of emergency lights bouncing off of the slick wet sides of buildings.

The same familiar scene, the same sick feeling in her gut.

Parking was not an issue with the road blocked. But before she got out, Alicia took one long drag on her cigarette. Then opened the door and stepped out into the unfocused drizzle.

Three officers stood by the tape, their features indistinct in the rain. Another cluster of emergency personnel stood by the skewed delivery truck in the middle of the street. A few onlookers huddled by the side of the buildings, blending into the grey of the twilight.

"What do we have?" she said.

It took a second before she got a response from one of the officers, then one spoke.

"Hit and run. Nothing we haven't seen before."

And nothing she hadn't already heard. She ducked under the tape.


The subway car jolted and screeched.

The girl moved rapidly, the boy in tow. She dodged and squeezing past the packed commuters effortlessly. He struggled to keep up.

They were both Asian, the girl twelve years of age, thin with a feral face and intense unblinking eyes, black hair so dark it was almost purple, cut raggedly short at the collar. The boy was ten, with a tired pale face. One eye was swollen shut.

They went between cars, their senses assaulted with the shrill screech of metal on metal and then into the next car, oddly empty for this time. A typical subway car with the flickering lights and the hard plastic seats. The girl was satisfied and slowed down. They moved towards the center of the car to the doors.

There was nothing to do, but stand themselves. She shrugged the small backpack off and let it drop at their feet. With tight grips they held onto the metal poles, swaying with each lurch of the car.

"Where are we going, Rebecca?" the boy asked after a while.

She paused.

He repeated the question.

"Anywhere, Aki." she spit, unwilling to look at the boy, lest he see the look of fear in her eyes.

How many nights had she woken up in the small room they shared, to see their foster father leaning over her? The man's sour breath ragged with an excitement that nauseated her. Most times, he would hold a pillow over her head, muffling what few sounds she finally couldn't hold back, till her head swam. Afterwards the man would whisper in her ear what he would do to Akihito if she ever told anyone.

But, and she stole a quick glance at Akihito who was looking blankly at one of the ever-present ads in the subway car, he had lied -as he did about everything. The black and blue swelling around Akihito's had been the trigger.

No one was ever going to save them. Not the case workers, not the police – and at that thought a savage sneer came unbidden to her lips – and certainly not their parents. Whoever the hell they had been.


"I'm Sergeant Phil Antonucci from the 27th precinct," the man said tonelessly.

Detective Turner stood over him. He was seated on the pavement, ten meters from the cluster of paramedics.

"That frickin' little bitch did this," he said louder and more distinctly. He slammed his fist down. It was bleeding.

Alicia knelt down beside the stricken man.

"Who's the bitch," she said.


The train came screeching to a halt at the platform, and the doors opened with that bing-bong sound Rebecca found so annoying.

Wrinkling her nose at the familiar urine stench that pervaded so many of the subway stations Rebecca stepped off the train. Her brown eyes darted around the platform, noting the busker playing halfheartedly on a guitar. She took Akihito's hand firmly and moved towards the stairs.

Their directness and intent caught the attention of the MTA employee behind her plexi-glass counter. The warning had just come over the bulletin about two runaways – usually not of any importance – but these runaways were different. She reached for the phone.


Later, alone in her office far from the dismal scene, Alicia Turner went over what she had been told.

The two children had been reported missing this morning. Runaways were common, but their foster father was a New York City police officer. That had been enough to alert the entire emergency infrastructure of the city.

Both of the children had been in a number of foster homes, The boy was 2nd generation Japanese-American. The girl was of Chinese descent. An infant cast-off, never put with a proper family.

The girl... Alicia frowned going over the records. More placements than could be believed. Reports of violence, horrific mood swings, frantic attempts at control by foster parents.

All that had stopped six months ago, when she had been taken in by the Antonucci's, a couple living in New Jersey. A comment indicated that the girl had had been protective of the younger boy – as if she felt it was her responsibility to watch out for Akihito.

Sergeant Phillip Antonucci was a decorated veteran of the NYPD. His record was stellar, a long history of service. The sergeant and his wife had taken in numerous children over the years. The records indicated a loving environment.

But then today, something had gone wrong. Not everything was what it appeared to be.


"I need to stop."


They were close to Chinatown, the red signs with gold chinese lettering starting to appear on the building fronts.

"I need to stop," Akihito said. He jerked his hand out of Rebecca's and broke free.

They were at a corner, a small nondescript plaza. Akihito ran up the stairs there, but stumbled on the top one and fell.

Rebecca followed, cursing under her breath.

She sat down beside Akihito while he held his head – earlier as they had come up of the subway, she had snatched a cigarette from the hand of an astonished bystander. Her payment had been a middle finger at his sudden shout. There wasn't much left to it, and it took vigorous puffing to keep it alive in the rain that had started to fall.

"It hurts."

"We have to go! We have to keep moving Aki."

"Where are we going?"

She descended into stuttering obscenities, "I don't fucking know, OK?. I just don't know! But we couldn't stay there any longer with those fuckers. They hurt you."

She left unspoken what had been happening to her these last few months. She would never admit it.

"We're in this together aren't we?"

"Yes we are, I swear they won't ever hurt us, you again."

She hugged him awkwardly, it was unfamiliar. And for one brief final moment the world was okay. The rain muffled any sound.

There was a loud noise, the sound of a truck muffler backfiring in the distance, the gears grinding. She felt the muscles in Akihito's back suddenly tense. It was not the sound though that caused his alarm.

"He's here Rebecca!"

She whipped her head around. Two policeman and a man in plain clothes were coming towards them from a parked cruiser. The man... there was no mistaking who it was.

"No," was all she could mouth, the word not even passing her lips.

It was wrong. It wasn't fair. She wouldn't accept it. She grabbed Akihito and yanked him up. They bolted down the stairs, down the side road . Rebecca slung off the backpack and left it on the stairs.



Hours had passed, it was late in the evening and Detective Turner was still looking at her computer screen.

She couldn't find the right words. The clinical, detached words eluded her.

From the first hand accounts of the policemen involved the children had run the instant they had seen Sergeant Antonucci and the others. They had given chase.

The boy had been too slow.

The girl had at the last moment swerved and upset a pile of garbage cans on the sidewalk. It seemed totally futile and worthless to Turner. A desperate attempt that would have barely slowed the pursuing officers.

But the boy had then darted between two cars, running out into the road. Right in front of a small truck. The driver had been looking away at just the wrong moment.

Alicia Turner felt sick again. It must have been an instantaneous death, the boy Akihito had not felt a thing – the trauma too massive, too sudden.

She couldn't do anymore. She would finish the report tomorrow. She turned off the monitor and leaned back in her chair.

In the confusion, the girl had vanished. She had kept running. Rebecca was gone.


The memories would return in her nightmares. She would never talk of them again. Not to Rock, who reminded her so much of the boy. Never to Eda whom she trusted like a sister; meaning not at all.

"Oh god, I screwed up."