The First Rule
a LegionOfMisfits / Al_Hats collabfic
Chapter 1
Left foot forward.
Bright lights.
Right foot back.
A cheering crowd.
Shoulders tight.
A hundred smells.
Neck relaxed.
Sweat, booze and stale cigar smoke.
Good God, is he staring at my boobs?
Her fist struck out like a serpent from beneath a stone, wrapped-knuckles parting the air like a tank in a traffic jam and slamming into her opponent's nose. Before he could even recoil from the punch, she put her weight onto her left foot and swung hard with her right, putting the full weight of her back and shoulders behind the cross. Her distracted and already-stunned opponent took the blow like a champ, and found himself on his ass before he fully registered what had happened.
He struggled to get back on his feet, sweat cascading down his forehead when he caught a flash of gold and felt another stab of pain beneath his jaw. He flew back, sliding slightly over the sweat-stained ring floor and coming to rest a few inches from the ropes. His abuser tore off a piece of her tape and used it to mop his blood off her knee, tossing aside the improvised rag and waiting for retaliation that never came.
The opponent scooted his way painfully out of the ring and Yang Xiao-Long revelled in her victory. A drunken man in the stands was cheering so energetically that he spilled his beer all over the spectator next to him, and within moments there was another brawl in the stands to replace the one that had just ended on the floor.
A bookie came forward, grin splitting his face as he clapped Yang on the shoulder and led her off the mat.
"That was fucking poetry," he exclaimed giddily. "Gorgeous. Goddamned beautiful." The two made their way through a back hallway that reeked of blood and sweat to a blue door in an otherwise plain and unadorned wall. Inside, the bookie attempted to make the place a bit homelier by covering the concrete floor with a crusty old carpet and lining the walls with posters of fights from before Yang was born. He sat behind a rickety metal desk and steepled his fingers, eyes still wide from the adrenaline high he was riding. A well-muscled man in a grey sweatshirt stood by the door and nodded appreciatively when Yang shot him a glance, though whether the gesture came from her fighting performance or the low-cut of her shirt she couldn't tell.
Gideon reached into his desk, withdrawing a pair of dusty tumblers and an even dustier bottle of bourbon. By the looks of it, he had been saving that hooch from the days when those fights on the walls had actually taken place. The zealous gambler blew the age off the bottle and struggled for a moment to undo the stopper before popping the top, splashing a few drops of liquor on his nice jacket, and pouring a finger of the amber fire for himself and the prize fighter before him.
"I'm not even joking Yang," he said as he downed his whiskey in a single gulp. "That was glorious. Fucker never even saw it coming!" He coughed slightly as the alcohol hit his stomach and Yang awkwardly poured a bit of the old liquor onto the floor when he wasn't looking. When Gideon recovered, the bookie looked cheerier than ever.
"Yang, I know I've said it a thousand times, but you have a gift. If you put it to use in a real fight, you and I could be the richest bitches in Vale, don't you understand? Lloyd," he called to the bouncer. "Go get the box from Fleur at the front desk; show our prized lady here how much we hauled off these dumb saps tonight!"
The beefy man obeyed and after he had left Gideon shifted his gaze back to Yang. "I know you've said before that you don't care about the money, but you need to think about the big picture here, Yang. In two years you and I could be flying private airships out to Vacuo every weekend; doing nothing but sitting in the sun and getting shitfaced. And don't pretend you don't enjoy it; that's the whole reason you fight, isn't it? The thrills? Why not make something real out of it, and help out your old buddy Gideon in the process?"
Yang had been silent up to this point, surreptitiously getting rid of as much of the ancient bourbon as she could without Gideon's noticing, but as his gaze fixated on her she took a hesitant sip of the liquor. It tasted like dust and fire. Like someone lit up an antiques shop. She resisted the urge to spit up the cheap booze but forced a smile for Gideon.
"Look, G… I know that you're all about the haul, but it's like you said. I don't need the money. Just give me a poor loser to rough up and a crowd to do it in front of and I-"
"Hold that thought, Yang," he interrupted as Lloyd reentered the room, carrying a wooden lockbox. He set the container on Gideon's desk and watched from his perch by the door as the bookie rifled through its contents. Colored lien notes flew like feathers from a plucked hen and the grin on his face grew to stupid proportions as he showed off the haul.
"You see this?" he asked. "This is what you do best! People see you and they don't know any better than to bet on the other guy. They think you're just some dumb broad who decided to wrap her hands up in tape and pick a fight. And then wham! You pull shit like you did out there tonight! People are practically giving their money away for small shit like this, can you imagine what a performance like that would net us in a ranked match? In a prize bout?"
Yang shook her head. "I can imagine, but I don't want to. Gideon, we've had this conversation a dozen times. I'm not going to fight pro. Period. Now can you just give me my share so I can go get fucked up at the bar and head home?"
Gideon's face darkened like a thundercloud. He sighed as he sorted out Yang's share of the take. "One of these days Yang you're gonna have to make a choice whether or not you want to do something with you talent. And unless you make up your mind soon, you're going to miss out on a lot of opportunities."
Yang snatched the colored papers from his hand and smiled. She blew Lloyd a kiss on her way out the door and smiled at the thought of her second favorite activity.
The bar was loud, smelled gross and served the cheapest, grungiest booze in Vale. It. Was. Glorious. Yang hooted like a sports fan as she slammed another glass rim-down against the stained hardwood. "I don't even know what the fuck was in that one," she proclaimed. "But give me another!" The other patrons cheered as the bartender shook his head and poured another ounce of the clear liquor before sliding it back to Yang. She knocked it back just like the first, feeling the burning rush of the alcohol as it raced through her system. The booze hit her gut like a nuke and she nearly doubled over before brushing her hair out of her face and grinning like a madman.
Another chorus of cheers rose from the bar and Yang sat back, taking a moment before swallowing another shot of liquid courage.
This was the life. Sleep all day, fight and drink all night. Oh if only Dad could see her now. The alcohol clouded her mind and she didn't feel the pain. It didn't even register on her senses the way it used to. Four years and a lifetime's worth of fighting and getting plastered would do that to you.
And even as she thought about how little it affected her, the memories washed over her like a wave. There was a guy in the corner wearing a black hoody. Nothing unusual in a place like this but... Black. Black. Oh Jesus fuck why does it have to be black? She smelled something to. Subtle, underneath the acrid reek of the bar - it was pleasant - too pretty to belong in a place like this. Sickly-sweet. She knew what it was, and it drove her mad. This place was too loud. Too hot. She needed air.
Pushing her way to the door, she stumbled out into the night and retched. The fruits of her hard-won evening filled the gutter and she coughed repeatedly as she pushed her hair out of the way of the torrent of regrets. Her throat burned. Her eyes were watering. Was that the memories or the smoke? She didn't care. She straightened up as quickly as she dared, panting like a dog. She sniffed and blinked several times, her eyes becoming accustomed to the predawn gloom. Was it really so early into the morning already? Time flies when you're wasting your life.
Then, the voice. "You just about finished? Because I'm not going to bother talking to you if you're gonna throw up on my shoes."
She turned toward the source of the sound and saw him standing underneath the streetlight. It was an image that would stay with her a while. He stepped forward, offering a hand to steady her. She took it and felt a rush of vertigo, nearly losing herself again before regaining composure. She looked up and saw that, through his stupid, goofy grin, he was worried.
Sun Wukong smiled sincerely. "Better? Good. We need to talk."
Sun's apartment was the perfect setting for a murder. Or a porno. Didn't matter. Yang fell gratefully onto a great red couch as Sun threw open a set of wide windows at the far end of the room. He disappeared into a small kitchen that adjoined the living room and set about rifling through cupboards. He emerged a moment later with a teacup full of a cloudy, pale liquid. "Drink up," he commanded as he shoved the cup into Yang's hands.
He didn't need to convince her. She was thirstier than a collegiate on Spring Break, and downed the entire thing in a single gulp. She nearly gagged at the horrendous sweetness of the stuff. "Bananas," she coughed. "Way to embrace those stereotypes, fuckboy. What did I just pour down my throat?"
"Little concoction of mine that helps when I don't want to wake up feeling like I spent the night driving railroad spikes with my forehead. Trust me, you'll thank me later." Sun fell into a ratty armchair across the coffee table from her and threw his feet up, sighing as he reclined.
"So..." Yang said, breaking into an awkwardly lengthy silence with all the gusto of a cow about to be butchered. "What did you want to talk about?"
Sun feigned indecision. "Gee, I dunno. The weather's been alright, there's a new Spruce Willis movie coming out next Friday... Oh! I know! How about we talk about where the fuck you've been for the past four months?"
His outburst left her head ringing and she pressed a palm against her temple as she waited for the noise and pain to subside. Sun rubbed his forehead and screwed his eyes shut. "It's just... Things aren't the same, y'know? I mean, we've all gone our separate ways, obviously. Neptune is in Atlas kissing ass with the SDC, Sun and Scarlett are back home in Mistral, Jaune and the gang are out on assignment, Ruby is-"
"Don't," Yang croaked. Despite the shakiness of her speech, her tone was ironclad. "Don't. Just..."
"Don't?" he offered. She shot him a venomous glance.
He sighed. "You know this isn't healthy." Her gaze was corrosive enough to turn a girder into a puddle.
"Gee, you think? People don't get hammered and break jaws because it's good for their hearts, Sun! They do it... because they're trying to forget." She slumped even further into the couch, suddenly feeling a wave of fatigue wash over her. One that seemed to stretch back much longer than a single regretful night. "I'm... trying to forget." Sun was quiet.
"Don't forget," he said quietly. "If you forget, you'll never learn." She rounded on him, eyes shimmering crimson.
"Don't forget? Don't forget?! Can you get these fucking thoughts out of my head? Because unless you can, don't tell me to stop! This is the only way I know how to make it through! I don't do it out of any want, I do it so I can fucking sleep! You don't have any idea, do you? Do you?!"
She was breathing heavily and despite his best efforts the monkey Faunus' gaze fell. She felt the tidal wave of tiredness threatening to swamp her again. She picked up her coat from the back of the couch and wrapped it around her shoulders, pushing her way out the door and slamming it behind her. Sun sat for several moments before folding and putting his face in his hands.
"I tried Blake," he whispered to the ghosts in the rafters. "I tried. I'm so sorry."
There was no reply.
Unlike Sun, Gideon didn't care if Yang drank herself into a stupor. She stumbled home and somehow found her way into her own bed, collapsing fully clothed and sleeping like a bear. When she opened her eyes, the light slanting in through the drawn shades was amber. She pushed the color away and focused on her wall clock. 5:40. Gideon would be wanting her at the club before eight, so she stood shakily and showered quickly. The water was frigid and she didn't care. She clenched her teeth as they rattled in her skull, the water tracing its way down her body and failing to wash away a thing.
She dressed in her usual attire and brewed a pot of coffee before she left. The drink was scalding and black as sin. She had four cups. Pushing out the door, pockets stuffed with everything she needed, she called a cab and made her way to her stomping grounds.
Her bookie was in his office, licking the tips of his fingers as he flipped through stacks of lien notes. He looked irritated as she walked in, but quickly adjusted his mood as he faced himself with the prospect of another decent haul from tonight's bout.
"There's my girl!" he exclaimed happily. He rose to embrace her and Yang nearly laid him out then and there. Instead, she merely waved him off and fell into the seat across the desk from him. Withdrawing a roll of tape from her pocket, she set about wrapping her knuckles in preparation for the fight. Gideon talked at her as she proceeded.
"Your opponent tonight's some kind of big shot from Atlas. Six foot nine, two hundred seventy pounds... in a ranked match, he'd be so far out of your weight class it'd be laughable. Then again, in a ranked match you wouldn't be fighting him anyway. Not that ranked matches are your thing." Her gaze silenced him before he could ramble any further and he held up his hands before continuing on the original topic. "Basically, a lot of people are expecting him to lay you out, and a lot of people are expecting you to knock him down a peg or ten. Either way, I'm going to get a cut, but for your sake I'd suggest you perform to the expectations of the latter party."
She finished taping her hands and stood, brushing her hair aside and rubbing her face. Gideon stood and walked around the desk, concern written on his face, though it was hard to judge how genuine it was. "Are you alright? You look like you were up boxing with ghosts all night."
You're not far off, she thought before she shook her head. "I'm fine. How long until the match?"
Gideon's face remained a mask of scrutiny. "Twenty minutes. Best go warm yourself up." She nodded and wandered out the door to his office, nearly running into the two-meter high slab of meat just outside the door. She blinked upward at the massive man, who gazed back down in return. His gaze was steely and he pushed her aside before stooping slightly to fit through the doorway. He called out to Gideon and the door shut behind Yang before she could hear any more of the conversation.
She spent the next fifteen minutes smashing a heavy bag with the face of Sun Wukong before walking out onto the sweat and bloodstained floor of the ring. Her opponent stood across from her; a mountain of meat. He drained half a bottle of water in a few gulps and scuffed the tape on his knuckles against the concrete floor before hopping into the ring proper. Yang stood across from him, pushing the demons in the back of her mind down. No time for regrets right now. She had ass to kick.
If there was one thing that Yang had made sure to maintain through the years, it was her ability to fight. The moment the bell rang to signal the start of the fight, she was seventeen and punching Ursai again. She found her stance and advanced quickly, sending out a few jabs and crosses to test the waters and get her opponent on edge. He pushed aside or stepped back from the preliminary blows, his own hands never straying from in front of his face. Propelling herself, Yang launched a pair of quick jabs, followed by a cross for full contact. The blows struck her opponent's shoulders as he twisted and ducked, and Yang didn't have time to see the hook coming. The world around her exploded into fragments as she recoiled backwards, and before she knew it she was on the defensive. She ducked and weaved around everything that was thrown at her, but many blows still found contact. She felt solid strikes meet her forearms and shoulders, and aside from the first hook she caught a stinging blow to the side of her head that staggered her and set her ears ringing.
She turned her gaze back to her opponent, fire in her eyes, and went on the offensive again. She skipped the jabs this time and went straight for the cross-hook followup. Her opponent bucked for only a moment when her fist found his flank exposed, but soon enough he was defending like a champ again. She went for an uppercut and found her arm trapped in a vice-grip. Her opponent slammed her down and she was defenseless as his free hand came down hard on her collar. She cried out and her knees buckled, but by some providence she managed to force herself back out of his range.
The bell rang, signaling the end of a round. She sent the man a glance as she sprayed water into her mouth, getting most of the precious liquid on her face instead. She shook her head, sending droplets cascading to the floor and the man spat across the ring.
As the two began to circle again, Yang's eyes scanned her opponent. She looked for a sign of weakness. Something; anything that could give her an edge against an opponent tougher than any she'd faced in years. When she saw it, she felt as though she had skipped the fight and gone straight to the drinking. Her stomach heaved, she grew dizzy and she nearly vomited then and there.
The tattoo was barely hidden by his collar; it peered ever-so-slightly around the top of the fabric at the edge of his neckline. She didn't need to see the whole picture to know what it was. There were no identifiable features on the man, but why would he have the tattoo if he wasn't...
Feeling rage boil inside her, she lunged forward. Her attacks came quickly and landed solidly, and the man barely had time to register each hit before the next one followed it. Blow after blow struck him chest, shoulders and at long last face. His arms flopped like rubber snakes as she tried in vain to assume a defense, and Yang planted her foot before sending a crushing blow into the underside of her opponent's jaw. The bruiser staggered back and Yang was on him in a moment's notice. She leapt into the air, rolling midway through her leap and wrapping her legs around his beefy neck. She gave a twist and they both fell to the ring floor, a tangle of limbs. the crowd was going mad in their seats and the referee was crying out to get the fight to cease.
He rolled onto his back just in time to take a blow square to the teeth from Yang, astride him like his wildest fantasy gone horridly wrong. Her fist cocked back and fell again and again and again, slamming into his face with relentless force. His teeth shattered, his nose burst, his eyes were swollen like overripe fruit and stil she kept swinging. Tears streamed down her face, falling to the floor like diamonds even as a pair of bouncers pulled her off the man. She raged and screamed as they dragged her back, and only after she broke her gaze from the man on the floor for just a moment did she see Sun sitting in the stands.
His face was unreadable, but Yang knew what he was feeling. She didn't feel the blow to the back of her head until all the lights went out.
AN - Yeah, I know I just released a new story yesterday, but I unfortunately don't see myself going very far with "Immortal." Sadly, I'm not the best at writing about emotional stuff, and loss/angst is really tricky to do well. So instead, I've teamed up with my good friend Al_Hats to create this interesting little project. It will (as you can likely already tell) deal with a lot of heavy emotional stuff that will be further explained later on. It will also have a good deal of action, a lot of yelling and some hardcore tender moments between two of my favorite characters.
Say what you will; about Sun as a character, I think he's great. He serves as a good foil to other characters, he's got a cool fighting style, a kickass weapon and he's funny. Couple that with Yang's... Unique personality, and you've got a pretty impressive recipe. Al and I are hoping to capitalize on that, and we hope that you'll all stick around for the ride.
I'll try to update this one fairly often, and it should be easier since we have two people working on it. Nonetheless, I make no promises. Still, I hope you enjoyed this first chapter. Please feel free to drop by with a favorite, follow or a review. Feedback is especially appreciated, as we're always looking for ways to make the story better and your feedback is one of the best ways to accomplish that. Thanks for reading!