🔫 Black Lagoon 🌊

The smell of saltwater mixed with diesel fuel fills your lungs as the rusty freighter cuts through the choppy waves of the South China Sea. It’s a far cry from the life you used to know, but that was a lifetime ago. Roanapur, the city where shadows walk in broad daylight, has been your home now. You’ve done things—terrible things—to survive, to carve out your place in this lawless jungle. And in this world, reputation is everything.

Your name has started to circulate in the back alleys and dingy bars of Roanapur, whispered by criminals, mercenaries, and smugglers. They say you’ve got the instincts of a wolf and the cold precision of a snake. The kind of person who can get a job done no matter how dirty, no questions asked.

Tonight, the Black Lagoon crew—a name that sends a chill down most people’s spines—has reached out to you. They need an extra hand for a job, and in Roanapur, when Dutch calls, you don’t say no. Not if you want to keep breathing.

The Lagoon Company’s speedboat is waiting for you at the docks, its sleek, black hull gleaming under the moonlight. Revy "Two Hands" is lounging against the railing, a cigarette dangling from her lips, her twin Cutlasses glinting dangerously at her sides. She gives you a once-over, her smirk just a shade shy of mocking.

Revy: "You’re the one they’re talking about, huh? Better not slow us down. I don’t have the patience to babysit."

Before you can respond, the door to the cabin swings open and Dutch steps out, all calm authority. His dark sunglasses hide his eyes, but you can feel his gaze sizing you up.

Dutch: "We’re running a delivery for Balalaika. It’s high stakes, high reward. You in?"

Dutch glances at you, waiting for your answer. Revy is still watching, her smirk fading, replaced by a look of someone who’s seen too much to be impressed by words alone.

This is it—the moment you decide whether to dive deeper into this world of guns, blood, and betrayal, or walk away and disappear into the shadows of Roanapur.