Chapter 1: Tumbler
Jaune Arc pulled his truck to the side of some unknown city street, and put it in park. It'd been a long while since he rolled through an area such as Vale, despite rumors of it possessing an impressive number of nightlife businesses. Nevertheless, the Arc fellow considered arriving in Vale to be another chance at earning some easy money.
And with it, an opportunity to get familiar with the local female fauna. In reality, this was only an added bonus to his efforts. Playing for the public was the proper and primary objective.
In Jaune's eyes, he considered himself a "Midnight Drifter", a busking night-owl with bar hopping tendencies. Of course, he didn't let this on to the common folk, especially the women. Simply hearing his explanation of the occupation would likely turn most away. After all, what good can come from a trumpeting derelict living out of the back of his truck?
To the surprise of most, the "derelict" could play a somewhat diverse arrangement of instruments. His focus of musical exercise remained with the trumpet, as it was more travel-capable compared to others. Often, he would use various bars and clubs as venues, and occasionally turn to the nearest hustle and bustle on the street for a quick card of Lien. A special focus of his included performing to the crowds of booze-goers and partiers that only show during the wee hours of the morning.
He referred to those people asmembers of the Night Tide. A personal joke of his own, Night Tide refers to the masses that suddenly arrive on the club scene once the business opens, and rapidly disperse upon a venue's closing. This postulate inadvertently lumped him in with them, as he was one that would follow that exact description. However, Midnight Drifter just sounded much more mysterious.
Either way, the night was soon to arrive, and Jaune was in search of a quick and easy venue. Locals referred him to the section of Vale solely dedicated to the "Night Tide Industry", and thus he made his way there just as the sun dropped below the horizon line. Poor planning methods such as this ended up leaving him to busk street-side almost 90% of the time.
But hey, 10% is 10%. Nevertheless, he was too tired to actively look for a business willing to have him. In his mind it was much too late to set up something tonight.
With the absence of direct sunlight, the street Jaune parked upon slowly shifted in color to that of an urban evening. A golden-orange hue prominently grew as older street lamps flickered on, producing a recognizable buzz. Various neon signs began appearing soon after, both complimenting and contrasting the color of the street lamps. Only the ambiance of distant traffic and buzzing kept the concrete scenery from defaulting to an incredibly boring experience.
From within his truck, Jaune waited intently. With the driver's side window cracked open, he listened. The sidewalks remained empty, for now.
Once it starts kicking, the tide will roll in. Jaune patiently mused.
And as usual, the prediction remained spot on. Numerous sources of muffled, pulsing subwoofers covered the sound of the city with a percussive hell. From what he could hear, Jaune picked up on subwoofer/bass kicks typical to hip-hop, EDM, Jazz, R&B, and others. Variety was the spice of life to the young busker, encouraging him to grab his trumpet and lock up his vehicle. As he started walking, other cars began pulling in, depositing numerous groups of people ready to dance and drink 'till they would drop.
Jaune cracked a grin as he slowly let the various members of the Tide pass him by. He could spot the various cliques of people headed to their respective clubs and bars based solely on their attire. Skimpy dresses, slick dress slacks with button up shirts, and a simple pair of jeans pointed Jaune to a Dance Club, Live Jazz Venue, and a simple Sports Bar respectively. Down the street lied additional establishments, turning the entire boulevard into a hustling, neon strip.
He also took note of a pair of a pair of bunny ears and scandalous fishnet tights, and let the location of whatever gentlemen's club she was headed to remain unknown.
Arriving at a well-lit corner, the drifter set his case down and busted out his musical companion. The orange light complimented the natural brass color of his trumpet, casting reflections off the metal in random directions. Bleating out a few strings of notes, the cold metal in his hands grew slightly warm to the touch. From there, he was ready.
To open his corner-side performance, Jaune started off with a simple jazz tune he learned a few months back. The complex runs and bops of certain notes gathered the attention of a small handful of onlookers, who grouped around to enjoy the young man's music. Likely patrons to the Jazz Venue, the listeners nodded their heads approvingly anytime Jaune would reach up into the higher range of his solo. After a screeching climax to his song, the busker let the club ambiance resume control of the atmosphere.
With a sigh, Jaune concluded his brief piece with a bow. A small number of people tossed various cards of Lien into his open case, and continued on their way. Despite earning a surprising chunk of change straight from the get-go, he wasn't feeling up to performing much else.
Besides, his liver itched. Tonight is a night to complete venue surveying and sample the local refreshments.
He quietly returned to his truck, and placed his trumpet back in the passenger seat. Soon after he crawled into the canopy-covered bed of his truck, and changed into a casual but clean pair of grey slacks and a golden button up. Complimenting this look included a pair of black, classic style loafers. He left a few of the top buttons open, and ran a hand through the crown of his hair.
No fault in looking the part. He mumbled to himself with amusement.
Pocketing his wallet with a specific (and moderated) amount of Lien, the twentysomething headed over to the small line forming in front of what appeared to be the Dance Club. Overhead hung a purple neon sign denoting the establishment as "Low Pass".
"An appropriate name for a EDM hub..." he said aloud, shuffling forward as the line continued. Nearing the bouncer, Jaune was quick to reveal his ID. Despite living up to the ripe age of 23, he would still be guaranteed an ID check. After taking a moment to verify his card, the large doorman let the Arc inside.
Passing through the doorway revealed the interior of Low Pass. Fog machines pumped out a steady layer of artificial fog onto the floor of the venue, obscuring any and all footwear. Despite the air being dead, Jaune could feel conditioned air slowly sink in from above, keeping the fog undisturbed. Walls, floor and ceiling were coated a matte black, and LED strips ran along the perimeter of the upper wall, casting a dark blue light upon anything within its reach. The dancefloor to his right was already filling up, revealing the actual floor as people jumped, stomped, and danced with the music. The steady pulse of deep house rattled Jaune's skull.
Various leather furniture lined the walls, excluding the bar and its silver stools. The bar itself appeared to be colored in the same fashion as the walls, and contained a strip of led lights under to illuminate the seated customers' legs and feet. The remainder of the room was filled with low sitting chairs and tables designated for a common area.
Jaune shuffled over to an open barstool, and calmly took a seat. Behind the bar stood at least five shelves holding a respectable variety of vodkas, liqueurs, rum, and bottles of flavorings. Likely a cocktail bar, by Jaune's assumption. The bartender was quick to walk over, waving a stray strand of cobalt hair out of her face before speaking.
"Evening, what can I get ya?" the tender asked, swinging a towel around in her hand.
Jaune hesitated for a moment, mulling over what drink would be had. Glancing down both sides of the bar revealed that it was fairly empty, excluding the few socializing or on their scrolls. With a slight bite of his lip, he leaned in.
"Can I get an, uh, Old Fashioned?" Jaune asked, unimpressed with his own order.
With a smug grin, the bartender looked at Jaune with the slightest pity. "Ah, come on, no need to be so hesitant! A man drinks whatever the hell he wants, so what are you really looking for?"
She grinned again, resting an elbow on the bar.
Jaune cocked his head at the lesser banter, and raked his brains for something new. Getting an Old Fashioned was just the usual, but she was right, why not spice things up a little?
With a grin, Jaune reattempted his order. "How does a Caipirinha sound?"
The bartender grinned. "Now we're getting somewhere!" she exclaimed, turning to retrieve all of the necessary ingredients. After a moment of work, she set the glass down in front of Jaune.
"So, are we paying cash of opening a tab tonight?" The lady asked.
"I think I'll pay cash for this first one." Jaune replied. The bartender asked for about 12 Lien, in which Jaune paid with 17. For all of that conversation, he felt generous in his tipping.
"Go ahead and keep the change." Jaune mentioned with a smile, taking his drink and departing from the bar. The bartender happily pocketed the extra cash, and made a note to be kind to the young fellow with hair more vibrant than his button up shirt.
Jaune reclined back in the leather seat of his choosing, and sipped from his drink as the club gradually picked up in activity. Glancing over at the bartender revealed that the poor woman was now bogged down with a large pack of thirsty customers, all impatiently awaiting the drink of their fancy. The dancefloor grew to a large ocean of people, rhythmically shifting and rippling with the beat of the music. All the ruckus had stirred the once calm layer of fog into the air, leaving the entire venue under a haze. Lasers and lighting effects would pierce the veil, leaving the mind in a state of trance or even overstimulation.
For what it was worth, that bartender could mix a nice drink. Jaune took another generous sip, letting the sweet yet intoxicating concoction sit before swallowing. After an audible exhale of refreshing satisfaction, he stood up.
Before him stood the land of opportunity, the dancefloor. Normally the Rave/EDM club scene was not Jaune's cup of tea, but the occasional fling was just what he needed.
"Alright, let's have some fun." Jaune announced to himself, polishing off the last of his Caipirinha. He strolled over to the dancefloor, and slowly worked his way into the crowd.
Amidst the mass of jumping dancers stood Jaune, slowly immersing himself with the beat. While not being the most advanced dancer, he had developed a surefire dancing style suited for the nightclub environment. A series of moves would be used for each section of a song. These were the tools left to Jaune's disposal. Twisting, dropping, jumping, sliding, and plenty of head bobbing would be combined and mismatched for every subgenre of EDM the DJ could throw at him.
Getting caught up in the music, Jaune had hardly noticed the small bubble of spectators forming around him. It was only during a shift to another song that Jaune finally came to his senses, slowing down and fixing some disheveled hair. The group of onlookers gave the boy a quick round of clapping and rooting before they returned to their own business. With a prominent yet slightly embarrassed grin, Jaune egressed and returned back to the bar.
Foot traffic had returned to its calmer state, allowing the bartender to acknowledge Jaune's approach with a grin and light clapping.
"Not afraid to let loose a little, I see!" The bartender complimented, leaning over the bar. "Glad to see the drinks are treating you well."
Jaune let out an audible breath with a smile. Drinking, Partying, and Performing… not exactly the skillset most people openly wish to excel in. He joked to himself. Despite the Marty Stu implications of his abilities, that was pretty much it. Drinking, partying, and playing songs were the activities most of what Jaune currently occupied his time with. The only true nonmonetary gain he could earn from this lifestyle remained solely in the stories of people he had shared time with, and the marvels that came with nomadic travel.
"Let's say that I get out often." Jaune replied. "I'm a bit of a busker, performing is my practice." He grinned.
With a nod, the woman continued.
"Interesting indeed. Although I'm not supposed to encourage the competing businesses around here, I'll let you know that down the street is a live jazz bar, known as Trade 4's Jazz Lounge. Depending on what you play, I'd say your best shot for jazz performing is there."
Jaune gladly noted the newfound information, and was soon to order a mug of beer with the remainder of his Lien. The small amount of change leftover from the transaction would remain as a small but sufficient tip.
The blonde turned and began to leave from the bar, bound for another one of those comfy leather chairs. Despite being able to hold his own, that Caipirinha had worked a decent amount of buzz into his system.
For what it's worth, this club is pretty nice. Lively crowd, social and honest staff, and a whole multitude of beautiful women. I think I'll stop by here tomorr-
"OH MY GOSH LOOK OUT!" A voice cried to Jaune's left.
Tumbling from the dance floor, the blur of a young woman met with Jaune's walking person. His beer was quickly flung skyward. The two were sent to the ground, before an intense shower of hoppy beer dowsed the duo. An audible collection of oohs was heard from dancers that were close enough by to see the demonstration of gravity's effect on both body and booze… combined. The glass mug came down not far off, shattering on the edge of a nearby table.
"What the hell is this!?" Jaune frustratingly yelled, looking up at the young lass that had toppled onto him. Lying on top of him was a girl with black hair that shined with a crimson hue. Embarrassed silver eyes met his own, temporarily alleviating his evident anger.
"Jeez, now I've done it!" She whimpered, rolling herself off Jaune. He in turn leaned up, running a hand over his now soppy dress shirt.
"Ah man, look at this…" He said aloud, picking himself up. With a disgruntled sigh, he turned to the girl. "Hey, you alright?" Jaune asked.
The girl, almost completely red in the face, nodded slowly. "I'm so sorry, I got caught up dancing and I ended up getting too dizzy…" She admitted, holding her hands near her mouth with intense blushing. Having a good look now revealed to Jaune that she was quite a cute looking girl, wearing a sleek black and blood red dress. A vertical line of silver trim ran up the right side of the dress, complimenting both her complexion and hair with ease.
Curse the Gods of Clubbing and their beautiful yet cruel sense of humor… Jaune thought nonchalantly.
"It's fine, just take it easy on the floor, yeah?" he continued. Closer inspection revealed that she too had been soaked with his drink, as some of her hair continued to drip with the liquid.
"Oi, let's get you a towel." Jaune said, Setting his anger aside. There was not point to getting angry over someone partying hard. Mistakes are and will be made… such is part of the partying lifestyle.
"Tell me, you uh… have a name?" he asked, gesturing to the bartender already setting down several dry wash cloths.
"R-Ruby Rose." The girl replied, walking with the boy to go dry themselves off.
Author's Note
Well, hello once again everybody. After a 3-year hiatus, I think I'm temporarily going to return to writing RWBY fanfics. It's nice to grind off the rust of writing, but I'm sure it shows in this first chapter. Nevertheless, I'm glad to be back on the site. Any feedback you wish to provide would be greatly appreciated… I'm sure that I'll need some help getting back to full speed once again.
Regards,
C707