>>    _{blackgrimoire}

    “Huh? What’s this look like to you, a fuckin’ motel?”

    The hired gun glanced up from her ice cold Heineken, far from pleased to see some unknown – and strangely-dressed to boot – kid lingering in the hall. Then again, Black Lagoon’s newest headquarters were even shittier than the first; it was expensive, getting your base of operations blown to fuckin’ smithereens. For the time being, they were stuck in a shabby building with “free rent” – courtesy of Revy herself, and her handy dandy Cutlass.

    A buck saved or gained was a mission successful in her book – no more, no less.

    “Aren’t you burnin’ up in those clothes? Looks like you got off at the wrong bus stop, kid.”