The TeamROCKTrailers:Oxlee Beck

"Cards are in the air. Last game of the table." The dealer announced, skillfully shuffling the deck and dealing five cards to both players. "Mr. Beck, It's your hand to open."

Oxlee Beck tossed two chips into the pot and slid his cards across the soft felt table, taking them into his hands and inspecting them carefully.

He grumbled as he eyed his last hand of the night. He didn't have much to work with; An Ace and Ten of Spades, two sixes, and a four. The easy play would be to keep the sixes and go for three of a kind, but the confident smirk on his opponent's face from across the table scuttled that plan. Ox could tell that he had something big, and he also knew that he wasn't winning with three sixes. The only other hand he could make would be a royal flush, but the odds weren't in his favor. The catch would need to be incredibly lucky, but it wasn't impossible.

"Raise. Five thousand." rasped Ox's opponent, who was sporting a charcoal colored, pinstriped over-coat and a matching dark grey fedora with a wide brim that hung down and covered his eyes. The man shoved a tower of neatly stacked, red and white poker chips toward the center of the table where they broke apart and clattered into a messy pile.

"What will it be, Ox?" Asked one of the bankrupted casino patrons. All the other players had gone under two hands ago, losing twenty grand collectively, but they chose to remain at the table, swirling their cocktails and holding their breath.

Drumming his fingers on the table's oak veneer edge, Oxlee silently contemplated his next move. He surveyed the dealer's deck, carefully calculating his odds. With a gentle nudge, he sent five thousand lien's worth of poker chips tumbling into the pot. This was risky, especially considering his opponent's confidence, but if he could pull off this bluff, he would be one step closer to paying off his dad's dept, and wiping the condescending snarl off that grey prick's face would be a lovely bonus.

"Call." Ox said stoically.

"I've got to ask. If you win, what will you do with the money?" The mysterious figure asked, a sinister grin peeking out from under his hat.

"You mean when I win? I'm using it for business related travel expenses. Jet fuel isn't cheap." Oxlee lied, raising his highball glass to his lips and taking a sip of whatever the bartender had decided to pour into it. It didn't taste like the Screwdriver he ordered but he doubted very seriously that anyone in this casino even knew what a Screwdriver was.

"Is that so? And what line of work warrants traveling in your own jet? You hardly look like the business type." The man looked Oxlee up and down from across the table, a hint of arrogance in his words.

Oxlee raised an eyebrow and slammed his glass down, cracking the branded coaster laying on the table's felt surface.

"Musician. At any given moment, my band and I have several gigs booked in every kingdom. And plane-hopping is stressful so we prefer to travel in style."

The man reached a hand into his coat and pulled out a glossy black cigar case with the initials 'S.S' engraved in the side. Quickly, he opened it and plucked out a rich, brown cigar with bronze binding, which he cautiously unwrapped.

"I see. But why would a filthy rich rock star need to gamble? Don't you make millions?"

Oxlee rolled his eyes. That question spurned his need for winning on even more. 'This guy is a starting to become a real pain in the ass. I'm going to enjoy taking him for every cent he has.'

With the flick of a silver lighter, the man set the end of his cigar ablaze, blowing thick smoke across the table, perhaps trying to annoy Oxlee further.

"You ask too many questions. I've made some bad investment decisions and I'm paying the price by sitting here at this table. Now can we stop coffee-shopping and get back to the game at hand?"

"I'm just curious. There's no harm in that."

"On the contrary, curiosity killed the cat. I'll take three." Oxlee pitched the sixes and four to the dealer and received three fresh cards in return. Two more aces and another ten took shape in his hand. On a lucky draw, Ox now had a full house.

'Time to send this wise-ass packing.'

"I'll stay." The man waved off the dealer. "I've got this one put away already."

"My hand says otherwise. All-in." Ox raked all of his remaining chips into a pile as a gasp echoed around the table, followed by inaudible murmur. "Perhaps you should just pack it up and go home. Probably past your bed time anyway."

"Ha ha. Cute. I don't think you realize who you're dealing with here. All-In." The man's smug grin had turned into a determined scowl.

"Alright, gentlemen. Let's see them." The dealer prompted both players to show their cards, but they both hesitated, eying each other disdainfully.

"Full house. Queens on the roof." The man huffed as he threw three queens and two threes into the center of the table. "I'd very much like to see you try and beat that."

"I do believe I will. Full house. Aces high." Oxlee fanned his cards out on the table. His opponent watched on in disbelief as Ox combed through the mountain of poker chips, picking out the smallest ones and handing them to the dealer handful at a time. "Color these up, will you. You know, make it easier to carry."

The dealer replaced Ox's winnings in larger denominations, a hearty stack of chips worth 30,000 lien. Oxlee stood at the table, downed the remainder of his screwdriver, and carefully took the chips in both hands.

"Gentlemen. It's been fun. We should do this again some time." Ox nodded to the players seated around the table. Most of them reciprocated the gesture, with the exception of the man in gray. He just sat there motionless, an unnerving scowl painted on the visible part of his face.

"I have a feeling we will be meeting again very soon." The man growled. He snuffed his cigar out in a Bakelite, spade shaped ash tray found on the poker table.

"Excuse me?" Oxlee didn't fully understand the ominous message.

"In due time." The man said under his breath as he tipped his hat.

"Creep." Oxlee whispered just out of earshot of the table, turning on a heel and swiftly retreating into the bustling casino crowd. He was making his way over to the cash-out window, taking care not to bump into anybody or drop his winnings. Suddenly, two burly men in suits emerged from the crowd, hustling as if they were in hot pursuit of some unseen quarry. One placed a hand on Ox's shoulder and shoved him out of the way as they darted across the casino floor.

"Hey! Watch where you're going, pal!" Oxlee stumbled and almost lost his grip on his earnings. "I've got to get out of here. Everyone in this place is a prick." He shook his head and carried onward to the cash-out window. He was only feet away from his destination when an attractive young woman sporting a waitress's uniform came into his line of sight.

By Oxlee's estimation, she stood 5'4", minus the heels. Flowing curls of blonde hair spilled over her shoulders and her ocean blue eyes glinted in the casino's romantic lighting. 'She's not half bad on the eyes. In fact, she's a doll. Why is she walking towards me?'

The blonde strode straight up to Oxlee and put her hands on his shoulders, fear and anxiety stricken across her face. Slightly shocked by the girl's actions and unsure of her intentions, Oxlee tightened his grip on his poker chips.

"Mister. Please. You have to help me." She spoke in hurried whispers, eyes darting from side to side nervously. "Someone is trying to take me away. I think they want to kill me."

"I'm sorry Miss-" He was scanning her up and down when her staff name tag caught his eye. "Crystal. I've made someone mad myself and I'm getting the hell out of here before someone tries to take the small fortune I have in my hands.

"Please!" She sobbed, tears welling up in her terrified, sky blue eyes. "I'm from a wealthy family. I can pay you handsomely if you will just get me out of here! I don't want to die!"

Oxlee's conscience and better judgment were wrestling in his mind. He was torn between acting like the gentleman he was raised to be and maintaining his own health and well-being. 'I walk around here for too much longer and I'm going to get mugged. But she seems so helpless. Either way, if I get in any kind of scrape, I won't have my weapon here to protect me. What would Dad do?'

"Who are they? What do they look like?" He asked reluctantly, peeking over his shoulder.

"There's a man in-charge. He wears a gray suit coat and hat. And I think he has some of the casino staff on his payroll, because two pit bosses were chasing me earlier. I lost them in this crowd."

Ox's eyes widened. "Come with me, right now. We're getting out of here." He commanded as he turned and pushed through the crowd, Crystal in close pursuit.

"What are you going to do with your money?" She inquired, pointing at Oxlee's load of poker chips.

"Pay it forward." Ox slipped through the crowd and hopped the velvet rope around another poker table, a game still in progress. He slammed his chips down onto the table, letting them cascade into the pot. "Ante up, boys!"

He grabbed Crystal's wrist and pulled her alongside him, jogging up a small set of steps and past the foyer. "Where is the nearest roof access?" He looked out over the casino floor, searching for his opponent. Luckily, his gray trench coat was nowhere in sight.

"There's a stairwell next to the bar. It leads up to the hotel roof. Over there." Crystal took over the lead, struggling to move in her cumbersome six inch ruby red heels.

As the two made their way past the bar, Oxlee snapped his fingers and whistled, demanding the bartender's full attention.

"Hey, dumbass! Learn how to make a Screwdriver!" He called out, turning the bartender an embarrassed shade of red. Oxlee and Crystal flung open the stairwell door and disappeared behind it.

Without taking an eye off the door, the bartender raised a finger to his right ear.

"They're headed for the roof. What should we do?"

"Roland! How far out are you?" Oxlee had his scroll to his ear as the two raced up flight after flight of concrete stairs."Well, this is an emergency, so tell Burns that if he doesn't get here in the next five minutes, I'm sending his ass back to the unemployment agency!"

Upon hanging up the phone, Ox turned his attention to the distraught blonde waitress stumbling up the stairs behind him. "Here. Heels." He motioned for her to hand them over. Crystal stopped in her tracks, slipped them off her feet, and pitched them to him. Ox then took them by the straps and dangled them over the stair railing, letting them fall back down to the bottom of the stairwell where they clattered against the concrete.

"What are you doing!? Those were expensive!" Crystal cried out, a combination and sadness and anger in her voice and expression.

"I'll buy you some new ones. Besides, they didn't match your eyes." Ox grinned back at her as he continued up the stairwell.

"That was the most metrosexual thing I think I've ever heard." She grasped the railing and followed Ox, moving more quickly now that she was barefoot.

"What can I say. My ex was a fashion designer. When you've been dragged along to enough runway shows, you start to retain useless wardrobe knowledge through osmosis."

"You're funny." Crystal giggled.

"Yeah. That's what they all say."

"Who was that, on your scroll?" she inquired.

"Our ticket out of here. We just have to make it to the roof." Ox straightened his tie as he continued up the tenth flight. His dinner jacket was tight and constricted his movement, unlike his beloved combat gear. How he hated wearing dress clothes, but he would have been laughed out of the casino if he had sat down at a poker table in his usual red hoodie and grey jeans. But the worst part of all was not being able to carry his weapon. Without Razarac, Ox felt just as helpless as the blonde damsel-in-distress he was currently rescuing. But a bass guitar is kind of hard to smuggle in a suitcase or try to sneak through hotel security.

"But why the roof? We could have just as easily taken a cab. And how are we getting off the roof anyway?" Oxlee was finding it very difficult to keep from laughing at the quizzical look on her face, but he didn't want to hurt her feelings.

"All in due time." As the words left his mouth, he recalled the whole reason they were currently racing up the twentieth flight of stairs. He wondered who exactly it was he had just taken 30,000 lien away from and what exactly he meant by, 'We will be meeting again very soon.'

"So who are these people and what do they want with you?"

"I don't know. But I overheard one of the pit bosses say something about a ransom."

"You said you were from a wealthy family, right?" Ox turned up a suspecting brow. He didn't like where he thought this was going.

"Yeah. Why?" The clueless look on her face was quickly become more than Ox could bare and he was starting to believe the whole 'Dumb Blonde' stereotype.

"They don't want to kill you. They want to kidnap you. And if this guy is paying off casino workers, I'd wager to say we're dealing with organized criminals."

"Organized Criminals?"

"The Mob."

"Oh...Oh God!"

Oxlee shook his head, "I can't believe this. I've encountered enough mobsters for one lifetime." Just four short weeks ago, a mob lieutenant came to Oxlee's apartment, asking for Mr. Beck. Ox's father was a prize fighter who had gotten in deep with the wrong people, solely for the purpose of paying for his son's education. When Ox told his father about a gruff looking man in a suit searching for him, he went into hiding, not saying a word about why. Ox could only assume that his father's past was catching up to him.

"Just keep running. We're almost to the top." Oxlee panted, lungs tightening and muscles aching from exhaustion. This was definitely taking the place of this week's workout session. As he came upon the door to the roof, he turned and lent a hand to Crystal, lifting her up the last couple of steps. The two shared a look of assurance before pushing the door open together. A cold gust of air rushed through the cracks as they quickly discovered exactly how high up they were. Oxlee jogged over to the edge of the building and gazed 30 stories downward to the street below. He could see entire city blocks into the distant skyline, but he would rather see Roland coming to their rescue.

"Where is he? He's supposed to be here by-" The distinct sound of a gun cocking cut him off mid sentence."Now."

"Turn around. Slowly." Crystal demanded calmly. Oxlee obliged, turning to face his captor. A disgusted wince crawled across his face shortly after the barrel of her 9mm handgun came to rest between his eyebrows.

"I guess I should have known not to buy into the whole 'dumb blonde' act."

"Yep." Crystal raised a slightly offended eyebrow, still not lowering her weapon.

"I guess I'm not getting paid handsomely, am I?

"Nope." Crystal shook her head.

"And that whole thing about being from a wealthy family, that was bull, right?"

"Oh no. I come from a wealthy family; a mob family." Crystal winked shamelessly and took a few steps back from the edge of the building. She raised the first two fingers of her free hand to her lips and whistled sharply. On cue, the pit bosses and bartender burst onto the roof, taking their places around Oxlee and pulling small caliber handguns similar to Crystal's from their vests.

"Well done, Miss Skyy." A familiar voice boomed across the rooftop. The man in gray stepped out from the stairwell exit and casually strolled up to Crystal, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You never cease to amaze me."

"Seems like we've met before. Didn't I kick your ass at poker?" Oxlee's sarcasm was less than subtle. He watched as the man in gray removed his hat and finally revealed his face. He was an older gentleman with a white flattop hair cut and a short, stubbly beard. He had a nasty scar that ran all the way down his left cheek and a thick, square jaw line. He threw his hat aside and took a step closer to inspect his new prisoner.

"Do you know who I am?"

"I haven't the slightest idea. But based on that diamond studded watch around your wrist, I'd say you're a wealthy business owner."

The man cleared his throat and pulled his coat sleeve down to cover his lavish timepiece.

"And the fact that you've been ordering around an assortment of pit bosses and wait staff like trained monkeys, I'd wager tonight's winnings that the business-in-question is the very casino we're standing on top of."

The casino staff members stood unmoving, guns trained on Oxlee's chest.

"You're smart, but not nearly smart enough. The name is Silvio Slate, and I've been in this business for quite awhile. You name it, I've done it, from money laundering and extortion to arms dealing and drug trafficking. I run this city. Any thing I want, I take." The man started pacing left and right as he spoke."And you have something I want. Ten years ago, I made a bet worth 90,000 lien with a rival kingpin that young, upstart boxer 'Lightning' Luca Lombardi would take the heavyweight title from the reigning champ; A washed up, old prize fighter by the name of Quentin Beck. Perhaps you've heard of him? You see, Quentin and I had worked out a deal; I would give him a ten percent cut of my winnings if he would just go down in the third round. He goes and knocks the poor kid out in the first. And I lost 90,000 lien because some loser, single father-of-one couldn't follow the simplest of instructions."

Ox clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. Oxlee was known for his short temper and insulting his father was the easiest way to light his fuse.

"And sure, I've become a wealthy man since then. I cornered the drug market and made a fortune for God's sake. Any other kind-hearted mobster would have let it slide and forgotten about it by now, but it's the principle of the thing."

"I love a good story as much as the next guy, but would you please just cut to the chase and shoot me already! Or are you just that intent on boring me to death?" Oxlee turned away from his oppressors and looked back out toward the skyline.

"Oh, I'm not going to shoot you. That would be too easy. I want to convey a message to your old man. And nothing says 'I want my money' more than dropping you off on his doorstep in pieces." Slate snapped his fingers before turning and walking back to the stairwell. "Rocky! Sutton! Make him bleed a little. But don't kill him. I need him to tell me where exactly I can find the 'Champ'. When you get done working him over, bring him down to my office. Happy beating!"

Oxlee turned an ear to the sound of cracking knuckles over his shoulder.

'I could really use that ride right about now. I know one thing; If Roland doesn't get here quick, I'm making him drive his sorry ass to our next gig.'

Ox spun around, eyeing the approaching henchmen.

"I didn't want it to come to this." Oxlee sighed. "But it looks like you guys have given me no choice."

He brought his fists up in front if his face, trying to imitate his dad's boxing stance to the best of his ability. Ox wasn't the most intimidating in stature. Although he was quite tall, standing at 6'2", he was abnormally slim. Rocky and Sutton burst into fits of laughter at the sight of Oxlee's scrawny arms.

"You asked for it." A pulse of energy swelled from the ground and crawled up Oxlee's body as he activated his semblance. He wound up and delivered a vicious straight jab into Sutton's face, sending him sailing across the rooftop and crash landing on an air conditioning unit with the audible sound of shattering metal. Rocky tried to counter, rushing in and throwing forward two hooks, but landing neither one. As he stumbled, Ox forcefully brought his knee upward, connecting with Rocky's jaw and knocking him out cold. Crystal and the bartender watched on in confused horror. They quickly retrained their guns on his chest and frantically squeezed their triggers, emptying both of their clips into his chest.

"Oww." Oxlee grimaced as the bullets bounced of his chest and settled on the ground between his feet. "My turn."

He charged forward and speared his shoulder into the bartender's midsection, tackling him to the ground. Ox grabbed him by the collar, gave him a swift, brutal head butt, and tossed his limp body to the side.

Crystal was frozen in place. She couldn't believe what she had just witnessed. Three fully grown men, armed to the teeth no less, were dispatched by a lanky kid. She cowered in fear as Ox turned to face her.

"Please! Not the face! I need this face! It gets me free drinks at every bar in Mistral!" Several seconds had passed before she finally noticed; nothing happened. She looked up to see Oxlee standing there, arms folded, just staring back at her.

"I can't hit a girl." Ox said flatly, shrugging his shoulders. "I have standards."

A split second later, the roar of a turbine engine filled the night sky and music blared from a set of loudspeakers overhead. Crystal's hair flew messily in every direction as she gazed up at Oxlee's ride; A medium-class, quad-rotor, airship designed for carrying troops into the battlefield. It had been decommissioned and repurposed into a flying tour bus. The name 'Aberdeen' was painted in white block letters across the ship's dark blue, shielded exterior. 'The Aberdeen' circled around the rooftop before whirling around and hovering above the building's edge. The aft blast doors flew open and Roland stepped out into the ramp.

"Quickly, your highness! Your chariot awaits!" Roland said sarcastically, curtseying and extending a hand to lift his band mate aboard.

"It's about time you showed up! I was beginning to think I was gonna have to take a cab home!" Oxlee shouted over the deafening rumble of jet engines.

"I see you made some new friends. Who's the blonde?" Roland nodded towards Crystal, who was looking on in dismay.

"Just a fan." Ox growled." Let's get out of here."

Roland winked once at Crystal before closing the blast door behind Oxlee and himself. As the two sauntered into the ships lounge, Ox wriggled out of his undersized dinner jacket and unbuttoned the collar of his undershirt.

"You want a drink?" Roland inquired, stepping over to the ship's mini bar.

"After the night I've had," Ox untied his crimson bow tie."I'm gonna need a lot more than one."

"And what kind of night have you had? You said you were going gambling. I show up and you're dancing around with some guys on the roof." Roland seemed slightly puzzled as he poured two glasses of Scotch. "And where's the money? I've played enough cards with you to know that you would never leave a casino empty-handed. It's borderline cheating, the way you play."

"It's a long story." Oxlee sighed and fell backwards into his favorite leather lounge chair.

"Well, we've got time, considering we are currently on our way to Atlas to bail Kane out of city lock-up." Roland handed Oxlee a glass before taking his seat next to him and raising his own glass to his lips.

"What did he do this time?" Oxlee asked, taking a hearty swig of liquor.

"No clue. The cops really should let people sober up before giving them their one phone call. I could smell the alcohol on his breath all the way from Atlas. He did say something about wrapping a bar stool around someone's neck."

"Wow. That's Kane alright. I feel sorry for the other inmates that have to spend tonight in the drunk tank with him. Where's 'Casanova' Hammond?" Ox swirled his drink and secretly hoped it was a bit stronger.

"Cass? He's on a date with that rich girl from Atlas, We'll swing by and pick him up after we get 'Nut Case' out of the slammer. Assuming, of course, he isn't spending the night at her place."

"Great. A long night just got even longer." Oxlee glanced back at the Mistral skyline that was quickly fading into darkness as 'The Aberdeen' ascended into the clouds.

"Well. Here's to long nights." Roland raised his glass in honor of a toast.

"To long nights." With a nod and a clink, the two friends downed their drinks and settled into their seats for what was surely to be a long night.

Author's Notes

Here it is. Part Two.

Listen to the song "Perhaps Vampires is a Bit Strong But..." by The Arctic Monkeys if you want to read into Ox's Character a bit more.

Music Easter Egg #1: Aberdeen, the name of the tour bus, is from the Cage The Elephant song by the same name.

Shout out to H3bard for doing all of my covers and art work. Check him out on Deviant Art and check out my Tumblr, rwbyrockstar98, where I've posted the rest of the art.

Peace out, and watch RWBY!