Chapter 2 – True Friends
A/N: Content warning for this chapter for emotional abuse – both past abuse referenced and (arguably) shown – and for misgendering. Stay safe, folks.
Unlike most of her opponents, this man had actually posed a challenge.
It was in his unique fighting style that he had the advantage – barely enough upper body strength to lift his own weight, with a stronger emphasis on kicks, in a style she had never had to contend with before.
It made the moment her fist resoundingly connected with his jaw all the more satisfying.
The instant he hit the floor, the referee began counting him out.
He made it back onto his feet half a second after the countdown ended.
As he yelled at the short referee in outrage, the brawler smirked and sauntered off, leaving him with a parting barb.
"Maybe next time."
Unfortunately, she misjudged her opponent's stability, else she might not have risked sending him over the edge.
"There's not going to be a next time."
Before she could consciously process what was happening, her legs were swept out from under her, and her calloused hands barely stopped the foot descending rapidly towards her face.
Instinctively she tightened her grip on the foot and rolled away from its owner, pulling him down onto her. The momentum of the motion kept them rolling until he was flat on his front, the brawler maintaining her grip on his foot.
Unfortunately, momentum didn't stop there. The grip on his foot meant that his leg was pulled a little too far back a little too fast, and his scream.
Oh, his scream.
"Blondie!" A gruff voice cut though the sound of the outraged crowd.
The brawler glared at the origin of the voice, a suited man with neatly trimmed hair and beard, standing next to the double doors that led to the changing rooms from the cage.
"Let him up. We'll talk about this later," he growled, gesturing at the doors.
Snarling, she released her opponent's foot and stormed past him.
=x=
The suited man arrived as the brawler was angrily ripping the tape off her bruised knuckles. They stared each other down for a moment before he broke eye contact and sighed.
"You saw. He struck first after he'd been counted out," the brawler muttered venomously.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he replied. "I know. But the whole club saw you tear his right quad. He probably won't fight again."
The brawler maintained her burning glare. "He. Struck. First. I just reacted."
"I know that, but they," he gestured towards the doors, "don't care right now. And the last thing either of us need is angry customers." He seemed to deliberate internally before pulling out a large wad of cash. "Here," he proffered the money to the brawler, "your take for the night, plus a little extra."
The brawler riffled through the wad and took a smaller amount than was offered, and turned away. "I don't want your pity, Junior."
"It's not pity, Blondie. You're on a break."
Blondie faced him again, glare back in full force. "What the hell?!"
"Like I said, they all saw you put that asshole out of the biz. You and I might agree he deserved it, but our opinion doesn't matter as much as theirs. They're the ones who pay to see you fight. They're the ones who put food on your table. You need to take some time out, let them forget about tonight. You take all of this," he waved the remaining Lien, "you treat yourself, you look after little Red and that dusty old crow. And when people have had time to forget what happened tonight, you come back. It'll be alright."
Blondie's mask of fury slipped a little.
Junior gently laid his other hand on her shoulder. "It's gonna be alright, Yang. I can have my folks put some good words out about you. Let people know your side of the story. You know the twins can be pretty persuasive."
She let out a cynical chuckle at that.
"Take the cash. Take the night for yourself. I'll take care of everything."
Yang wavered, before dropping her gaze floorward and taking the rest of the proffered money.
Junior nodded, relieved, and began to walk out.
He almost missed the cracked, shaky word the brawler let slip.
"Thanks."
=x=
It was only after she reached the shitty old dive and got herself a beer that her friend bailed.
nep came over. his dads at it again. sorry.
Quickly she tapped out a response.
dw about it sun, just look after him ok
A moment after she set her Scroll down on the table it buzzed again, a single thumbs-up emoji her only response.
And so in her own little corner, she nursed a cheap, nasty beer alone.
For about five minutes. Then she turned up.
Short, petite, her slight face framed by locks pink on one side and brown on the other, shot with white highlights. One eye brown, the other pink, thanks to a strange genetic mutation.
The instant their eyes met a predatory grin sprouted on her face and she sauntered over, drink in hand. How she had gotten the grim man behind the bar to serve her something so outrageously pink in a place like this Yang had no idea.
Yang felt herself tense up at the teasing approach, stiff as a board by the time the woman arrived at her table, perching herself on the stool opposite without so much as a by-your-leave.
After she set her glitzy drink down, she signed, "Alone again, are we?"
The one thing the brawler could be grateful to this person for was the fact that she wouldn't know Atlesian Sign Language if she hadn't dated her. As such, Yang was easily able to interpret the gestures, and out of courtesy she replied in kind, movements a touch halting due to her minor lack of practise recently. "Neo. Charming as always."
Neo smirked. "So what does bring you here, all alone?"
"Not that it's any of your business," Yang retorted, motions sharpening, "but I was supposed to be meeting Sun. He just had to bail, that's all."
"The monkey boy? You still put up with that douchebag?"
"Hey! He might be cocky sometimes, but he looks out for his friends. Which is more than I can say for you. And anyway," Yang added, a little too gleefully, "I don't see you here with anyone."
The multi-coloured girl frowned, narrowing her heterochromatic eyes. "Screw you. Oh, wait, you wussed out when I tried. Oh, well, I guess I'll just have to have some fun with my hot date, instead. She should be here in a few minutes."
At this, Yang was a touch beyond pissed off, as evidenced by her switch to vocal communication. "Not cool, Neo. You don't get to play with my emotions, push me too far and then just fling yourself at my table like you own me."
Neo smirked. "Well I didn't hear you complaining. Sure you don't miss me?"
Yang snorted. "Yeah, you wish. But whatever. You came to me, I'm not keeping you here."
To call what these two engaged in for the next few hours over several drinks banter would wrongly imply an underlying respect between the two women.
It was one long drunken bitch-fest.
Yang lost track of how long they had sat there, trading barbs and driving each other up the wall, in their little corner, out of sight of the bar itself. Trapped in her own personal hell, with no one to bear witness to her torment.
Of course, their isolated location also meant that Neo didn't notice when a certain Faunus with a mane of midnight strutted in and settled at the bar, thinking they had been stood up.
=x=
As the exes stumbled back to the bar around midnight for another refill, the brawler remarked with a slight slur, "Weren't you supposed to be meeting some hottie tonight?"
"What can I say, she must've bailed. Guess I just attract quitters and cowards."
However, the multi-coloured girl still looked a bit dejected.
"Wish I'd been that smart. If I was as hot as you say this person was I sure as hell wouldn't settle for a backstabbing bitch like you. Oh, wait, I am, and I didn't!" Yang cackled madly at her own wit.
Neo turned away, not even deigning to sign a response. When she did so, her gaze drifted to a small table by the window, which she hadn't noticed before. At it was seated a young Faunus with bold sleeves tattooed on their pale skin, and a girl who looked far too rich and classy for the dump they were in.
Seeing the Faunus, Neo's eyes widened, and her grip on her glass tightened, her knuckles whitening as they formed a vice on the poor little object.
Even drunk, Yang retained her considerable observational skills, which had been nurtured in the cage.
"Seen someone you know?" She asked, light and teasing.
"That bitch! She was supposed to be meeting me, and she just strolls off with some high-end whore instead?"
"Well you did spend a few hours trying to get a rise out of me. Maybe you got so distracted you didn't notice her coming in?" Yang smirked.
Neo retrieved her phone from her jacket. Yang completely without subtlety leaned over her shoulder to peer at the small screen. The contents of the message were rather standard for Neo – callous, biting, and manipulative.
In her drunken haze, Yang almost thought she could see a glimpse of the future. She could just see this stranger, who actually is kinda hot holy cow wait what brain not now being sucked into the same cycle of manipulation Yang herself spent months fighting to escape. She could see the arguments, the kind, simpering front that Neo would present after, oh so sorry and prepared to try make things work, the gentle caresses meant to lower the guard, then the increase in pressure, tension and demand, until it all exploded and she came back apologetic and started the whole damn thing all over again and she knew there and then that she wasn't going to sit back and watch that wretched excuse for a person fuck someone up like that again.
And so she bullheadedly made for the table at which the Faunus sat, fully intent on warning them not to get sucked into the bullshit in the first place.
Until a slim hand closed on her wrist.
"I didn't say you could touch me," Yang growled.
She turned her head to the side in time to see Neo's reply, which was simple enough for her to sign with only one hand. "Don't."
Of course, Yang, having been through so much at Neo's hands, had been looking for an excuse to lash out. Now she had a chance to get one good hit in.
"Alright. That's it. You crossed the line." But as she drew her hand back to deliver a haymaker, another hand wrapped around the offending wrist. The gruff man from behind the bar had somehow manoeuvred himself around to the two women from his usual post with alarming speed.
With his unoccupied hand, he pointed to the door. "Out. Now."
Yang was outraged. "She grabbed me! It's just self-defence."
The bartender stared right back, indifferent. "Don't care. Both of you, out now."
Neo shrugged and signed, "This place is a dump anyway. See ya, bitch."
She sauntered off, leaving Yang trying and failing to yank her hand out of the bartender's grip. "You too," he spat.
He pulled her roughly towards the door, despite her protests. When they reached it his spare hand found her shoulder and firmly shoved her out. Yang stumbled and fell to the ground. Damn. Should've stopped after the fifth. It's always the fifth...
"It's always the fifth!" She proclaimed to the empty street, beginning the short walk home as she dissolved into tears and giggles at her own stupidity.
=x=
A few assholes with bad ideas on how to treat women made some lewd comments at the blonde as she made her way home, but she quickly relieved them of any notions of the acceptability of their behaviour – with sass if they were on the opposite side of the road and with her fists if not.
Eventually, she reached her home. A run-down terraced house sandwiched between a half dozen clones of itself on either side. After some minor fumbling with keys she thrust open the door, wincing as it boldly declared her presence with a god-awful screech. Hopefully, her uncle had already drank himself to sleep.
And her sister...
Yang made her way up the stairs and down the corridor to her room at the far end, in a passable imitation of stealth by the standards of a bulldozer. That is, slamming into the wall with every alternate step until the sheer force of her drunken shenanigans let her smash straight through her bedroom door.
As she sat on her single bed and fumbled with the laces of her black and yellow combat boots a red head peered around the door.
"Yang?" The person attached to the head spoke softly. "Where have you been? Are you okay?"
Startled, the brawler's gaze rocketed upwards to the diminutive girl now leaning hesitantly into the room. "Rubes, it's, like, suuuuper late. You should be in bed!"
The girl chewed her lip before replying. "I couldn't sleep 'cause I was worried about you."
A wave of guilt washed over the brawler. She still doesn't know...
"I'm fine, honest! Just went out to meet Sun. He had to bail, though."
The redhead narrowed her eyes. "If you didn't meet him then why are you drunk?"
Yang's gaze fell. "I ran into Neo at the bar."
"And you had a drink with her? After everything she put you through?!" The girl's voice became increasingly shrill as the sentence went on.
"Shhh! Careful, you don't want to wake Uncle Qrow."
The girl had the decency at least to look bashful. "Sorry. But still! You can't let her pull you back into anything!"
"Relax, Ruby," Yang replied in a placating tone. "We're not gonna get back together. I just wanted an excuse to tell her how horrible she was."
Ruby breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay, good. You gonna be alright?"
"Pffft, I'm barely tipsy. I'll be fine," she lied.
Ruby didn't look convinced, but knew from experience that arguing with drunk Yang was pointless.
"Alright. Goodnight, Yang."
"Goodnight, Rubes."
The younger girl slunk off, worry burning in her heart.
The older simply sat, head in hands, wrestling with her conscience.
Not for the first time, sleep did not grace her with its presence for a long, long time.
A/N: So, slightly shorter chapter this time, mainly cause there isn't as much shippy interaction :P this will probably set a trend for this fic – alternating in POV from one of the monochrome pair to Yang, since her story is more separate from the others.
Comments are amazing :D
See you next time!