For Adam Taurus, I plan to write him fairly ridiculously. He will be the main instigator of the rest of the night's events. This is my first fic, so if you have feedback I welcome it.
Junior was not having a good night.
First, Torchwick strong-armed him out of some men for whatever questionable activities he did. Second, that psychotic blonde tease had wrecked both his manhood, bar, and jaw. And now, two hunters and yet another towhead wanted to be waited on while his bar was still in shambles.
Junior sighed, winced in pain, and coughed up a bit of blood, forgetting that his drained aura reserves still hadn't completely recovered. He didn't mind dealing with actual customers. It was just that Peter always ordered a glass of Port Wine (for some reason, the professor thought he was being brilliantly funny every time he did this), then spent hours regaling everybody on his past conquests, be they Grimm or Woman. What's more, he always came with Doctor Oobleck who never drank anything outside of his coffee thermos. From the way the Doctor behaved, there were probably dust crystals contaminating his coffee grounds. These two were one more headache that Junior did not need.
And now this blond boy they had with them looked to be the same age as Goldilocks earlier. This does bode well, he thought.
"Well, what'll it be?"
No. No no no no no. This is not safe. This is not safe. Stop Stop StopStopStopStop!
Jaune stared horrified as the automated driving system pulled the car into the parking lot. It looked like some superhuman invulnerable beast had disemboweled a building. Various broken glass, furniture, and people appeared to have been dragged and thrown out through doorways and windows, like a maliciously gleeful child had torn out the inside of a dollhouse. Some distance from the door a bearded man staggered up and limped to the door. "Is going to be alright?" Jaune asked, his voice a strange combination of terror and genuine concern.
Port and Oobleck looked slightly uneasily. They intended to take him to a...less safe place in the hopes of getting him to reconsider his desire to be a huntsman. There was some guilt too, as part of them simply thought it would be highly amusing to see this "Charles Goldenrod McLovin" react in such an environment.
"...I'm sure he will be fine, my boy." assured Professor Port."
"Yes, Yes, this is our fault," Doctor Oobleck chirped. "We should have considered crime rate before we brought you to an establishment located in such a dangerous area."
Jaune watched as the man reached the door and made it inside. "What, dangerous? Oh no, I'm totally used to this. There's uh...Gangs! Yeah, there's gangs back home on Mistress." AUGHHHH! STOP! WHY!
"Oh?" Port and Oobleck raised their eyebrows.
"Ahhh...Yes! Because it is a joint island owned by both Mistral and Atlas, there are gangs from both countries that are hot at the collar for each other." Hot at the collar? What the heck is that supposed to mean? Why do I say things?!
"In any case, that man needs our help." Jaune hopped out of the car and made his way to the door.
"Mr. McLovin, wait!" cried Doctor Oobleck. Jaune paused at the door, while Doctor Oobleck had a quick silent conversation.
We can't stop him. We'd be telling a fine young man that helping people is wrong! expressed Professor Port.
I know! grimaced Doctor Oobleck. It is just this is getting out of hand, and I don't want to get caught up in anything while I'm borrowing Professor Goodwitch's car!
Port froze. Could you repeat that? I think your glasses caused me to misinterpret you.
Doctor Oobleck leaned forward so his face appeared unnaturally large, then with exaggerated facial tics, made an expression that could only be interpreted as I SAID THIS IS GETTING OUT OF HAND AND I DON'T WANT TO GET CAUGHT UP IN ANYTHING WHILE I'M BORROWING PROFESSOR GOODWITCH'S CAR!
"Charles, my boy!" called Professor Port, but Jaune had just went inside the bar. Peter turned to his colleague "We'll go in, get McLovin, and we won't say a word to Glynda about where we took an underage boy with her car."
"Well, what'll it be?" Jaune blinked. Surely he'd at least be carded...
Inside Junior's mind, there was a voice. It was telling him Just don't ask if he is a little young and he won't crush your balls...
"Wait, are you alright? I saw you on the ground outside..." Suddenly Junior's impatience returned. "Either buy a drink or be on your way, if you are even old enough to drink." Jaune saw the professors sit down next to him.
"What? I'm totally old enough to drink!" No I'm not! "Back home, I was considered one of the great heroes of the local bars!" That isn't a thing anywhere! Who says that! Why do I talk? Jaune scanned the bottles to see what sounded the coolest. "In fact, I'll have a Gold Slick!" he slammed a fist of Lien on the bar. "And one for each of these fine gentlemen here!" Port and Oobleck started.
"W-Wait McLovin, my boy, one of us still has to drive the car!" blustered Port.
"Ah...oh. Wait, no you don't, it has an automatic driving system, remember?"
The drinks slid up and came to a rest in front of the three patrons. "Three Gold Slicks," said Junior.
If any of them were being honest, none of them drank anything stronger than wine before. There was a moment of hesitation before everybody reached for their glass, each unable (or at the very least unwilling) to admit this was nothing more than an unnecessary amalgamation of misunderstandings, bluffs, bravado, and fear. The professors wanted to stop. Jaune wanted to stop. But by now all the deception had accumulated and manifested in each of their minds as an irrational compulsion. "Er...should we toast to something?" asked Port.
"Ah, yes, excellent, wonderful idea Professor," briskly piped Oobleck. "I'll go first." The gold flakes sparkled in his glass "To mankind's survival in an unforgiving world."
Port stood up, knocking his bar-stool over. "Oh...to youth! And the strength to reclaim that youth!" Sheepishly, he picked up his bar-stool.
"That we might be worthy of our ancestors who fought for this land," Jaune said quietly. Port and Oobleck paused, looking at him. Oh, no, did I say something stupid? What if they figure it out? Did they figure it out? Let me see, what did I say, what did I say? I CAN'T REMEMBER WHAT I SAID!
"Quite profound, Mister McLovin." "Indeed." Both Professor Port and Doctor Oobleck were nodding and grinning nostalgically. "Hear, hear!"
*CLINK*
As Blake disappeared into the distance, Adam Taurus said in the most passionate, serious voice he could without breaking his permanent monotone, "why must you do this to me you are tearing me apart. you drive me blake...you drive me to drink..."
After securing the transfer of the train's contents to the White Fang base, Adam went to his quarters and opened the secret drawer in which he kept all of Blake's ribbons that he had stole from her over time. "i rescued you" he droned as he tied them together "from that backwards...thinking...subservient docile family and you betray me..." He paused, savoring how cool he sounded when saying "betray." "you take yourself from me" he chanted arrhythmical, while rapping his face in the ribbons like a mummy "so that i cannot see you." He paused again, thinking something cool to say after this. "the real you," he settled on, "and now...people will not be able to see the real me who i am now being."
Adam looked in the mirror, quite pleased with his disguise. Nobody would be able to tell who he was, and now he could go try that bar Roman Torchwick recommended. Quickly though, he remembered he was a being of pure angst. With the appropriate scowl, he went to his car, passing his fellow White Fang members.
"Why does he have those ribbons on his face?" "I don't know, I stopped trying to understand him ever since I found those smutfics he wrote about that Belladonna girl." "Wait, are those HER ribbons? Eaugh...what kind of smutfics?" "The bad kind, Verd. And not the good-bad kind. The kind that non-ironically makes writers of trollfics blush." There was a collective shudder among the White Fang grunt workers. In the distance, they heard Adam's car rev up and skid out of the base.
As Adam drove into the parking lot, he noticed there was only one other car in the parking lot. Oddly enough, it was the same make and model as his own. The only difference was the license plate which read "GOD WICH."
i need to make sure i remember which car is mine he thought as he entered the bar, hearing voices speaking "Quite profound, Mister McLovin." McLovin? What color was that? "Indeed." "Hear, hear!" Clearly these plebes could never understand the hopeless angst that forever tormented his mind...
