A/N: I do not own Black Lagoon, any of the characters or settings herein.

"Kapitan?"

The voice seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. From her place in the plush chair by the window, the woman addressed as Kapitan stared blankly out onto the twinkling lights of the fetid, corrupt city she claimed as her personal fief.

"Kapitan?" the voice sounded somehow closer. "Have you a plan to finish this?"

The Kapitan turned in her chair to face the source of the voice. His appearance was rough, a deep and old scar transecting his face from upper right to the lower left. A sudden look of concern flashed across his features before he quickly resumed his customary stoic mask.

"Was that what I thought it was, Serdzhent?" The Kapitan asked, too tired to even raise her voice.

"I forgot my place, Kapitan." the sergeant apologized. "Forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive, Serdzhent. I feel it too. We're getting too old for this."

"Kapitan?"

The blonde shook her head slowly. She stood from her place by the window and strolled slowly to her desk. She carefully smoothed her plum suit and sat in the office chair and folded her hands under her chin.

"Where is the girl now?" she asked.

"She has eluded pursuit," the sergeant answered uneasily. "But our scouts suspect she may have made her way to the Lagoon Company offices."

The Kapitan chuckled softly to herself.

"That damnable nun," she murmured.

"Kapitan?"

"Our friend from the Church of Violence," The Kapitan clarified. "She was reported in the area, was she not?"

"Da," the sergeant responded, unsure of this line of thought.

"It would seem the CIA has an interest in getting that girl out of the city," The Kapitan continued. "Very well. But for Menshov and Sakharov, the girl must pay in blood as well."

Suddenly, Balalaika looked very old and very tired. Her sergeant was immediately to her side.

"Kapitan! Are you ill?"

She smirked sadly. "No, Serdzhent, just tired. I never thought I would have to instigate the death of another child as long as I lived. I had hoped all that was left behind in the burning sands of Afghanistan."

Boris stood stiffly to one side, though he kept his gaze fixed firmly on the one he swore to follow to Hell and back.

"It could not be helped," he tried to console. "They were mad dogs on the loose. They would have - "

"I am aware of what they could have done and more than aware of what they have done, Serdzhent." There was no rebuke, just words that conveyed knowledge of past events as if read from a book.

Silence fell upon the dimly lit office as the mantle clock ticked away. Boris shifted on his feet as The Kapitan stared off into space. Memories flashed in her head as she remembered the girl she took by the hand and led away from the carnage or war. She would come to regret that decision as she would many others before and since. Her act of kindness...of basic human kindness...led not only to her downfall, but to that of her entire company. She had brought disgrace upon them as soldiers of The Motherland. A simple camera had brought down the Warrior Goddess and her battle-hardened Visontniki. She and her men were cast into the void and she led them to this land of darkness out of, what was it, exactly? Shame? Pride? Some sense of duty to those she once led? Whatever the reason, they were now the lords of death in a city crawling with the living dead.

Now the girl from so long ago laughed upon the great and mighty Balalaika in her dreams as she struggled with her conscience over the death of another child.

Why should this one be any different than all the others?

Balalaika stared at the opposite wall. Because he was a mad dog. He was made this way. There is no more fitting fate for mad dogs than to be put down. Not like Afghanistan. He had to die. She consoled herself over and over. The girl must as well. Not casualties of war, just plain bad luck. They will finally be at rest.

The sunlight flooded Balalaika's office.

"Kapitan."

Boris' voice broke Balalaika's reverie.

"Report," she almost whispered.

"It is confirmed," Boris replied softly. "The girl booked passage on the Lagoon last night."

"Any idea where they are now?" Balalaika responded blankly.

"Unfortunately..." Boris let the thought fade and Balalaika was in no mood to press for detail.

"As soon as we know, get a hold of anyone we have in the vicinity. I want this finished with little more fuss."

"Da, Kapitan." Boris stiffened into a salute and excused himself.

Balalaika resumed her place at the window. The daylight chased the last of the shadows from the office, filling it with an almost, welcoming warmth. A knock at the door returned her attentions to the real world.

"Kapitan, we found her."

Hours later it was all over. Balalaika once again sat watching the fading light through the window after Boris confirmed it. Sighing, she opened her cell phone and dialed a number only she knew. "It's over." A pause while the other party answered. "Are you free tonight? No, I just don't feel like being alone."

A/N: I give all thanks to the efforts of Draco38 and jm1681 for their patience in helping me write this one. As I am still a relative stranger to this archive, their advice and assistance was more than valuable and oh so greatly appreciated. This was pieced together after some serious re-watching and re-reading of the source material and a lengthy e-mail "psychological deconstruction" between JM, Draco and myself. Though it may sound trite, I wish also to thank the other authors in this archive for setting a worthy standard. I only hope this lives up to expectations.