Prologue 6: We're Gonna Need a Montage

After Beatrice had shaken off the abject despair brought upon her by being called "Betty", she began their training in earnest. Johan, Alphonse, and Battler were instructed to get used to standing and moving in their ATs, hanging on to one another and moving around slowly. Trent, as he was already decently proficient at keeping his balance, was to acclimate himself to moving at greater speeds, and to add jumps into his routines.

Finally, the Golden Witch turned to Majima. "As for you..." She paused and considered how to improve the Yakuza's abilities with AT before giving up. "Well, you can fly to your heart's content with no issue. Simply enjoy yourself and ride as you will, get more used to moving around, you are not in dire need of assistance like these four. I'll teach you more once they're able to catch up."

"Ha, makes sense that I'd be in a better spot than these guys," Goro laughed. "I've been around the block a few more times than them – or you, Betty." With that said, the cyclops moved off to keep practicing, trailing cackles behind him as the boys went to work.

Over the course of many hours, each of the lads managed some measure of improvement; Battler and Alphonse, as inexperienced as they were, actually managed to learn how to stay on their feet and move without falling nearly as frequently as they did before. They also managed to strike up a bit of camaraderie: Battler would scream about how he'd fall, do so and then Alphonse would laugh at him, causing him to lose focus and crash into some object while he wasn't looking, causing Battler to mock him back. The back and forth wasn't nearly as strong as it was between the redhead and Beatrice, and with all the victories being on both sides rather than mostly on one, it was more friendly.

Meanwhile, Johan was doing about as well as Battler and Alphonse, though with much less banter and co-mockery due to practicing by himself. He tried a couple of small jumps (hops, really), not trying to do anything but get used to the feeling of having his feet off of the ground. This went about as well as could be expected. The trouble wasn't so much jumping as it was landing safely afterward and continuing to skate.

Trent went about picking up speed as he ran around the park, throwing in the occasional jump, with one interesting instance ending with him skating across the roof of the bathrooms and eliciting a startled yelp from within. He had some issues keeping his balance as he picked up speed, but found himself enjoying the run despite the fact that he always felt about an inch away from losing control. The blond also made sure to make time to watch the others try and fail, while offering token advice, if only to keep them from noticing his own failures. Majima certainly laughed at him when he wiped out.

Majima meanwhile, seemed to enjoy defying all expectations, as his ability on the machines skyrocketed and he danced around everyone else. He made them all look like classless chumps as he darted around with hoots and hollers, all while making sure to call Beatrice 'Betty'.

Beatrice, for her part, ended up nursing a headache, as she was unable to get the yakuza to actually call her by name, and was entirely too infuriated with Battler's lack of progress in comparison. Her normal whimsical nature was completely blown away by Majima's utter irreverence.

When the crew decided to split up for the evening, they made plans to meet again, if only so that Majima could continue to laugh at their failures. They set the time to meet as the evening two days from the first encounter, though the trio were all in agreement that they'd probably train in the intervening time as well. They managed to limp back to the Noyamano household and collapse in their rented room, none of them really feeling up to any sort of shenanigans.

-x-x-x-x-x-

The next day found our hapless protagonists out on the town, pounding pavement in hopes of finding employment. They found that not only were there few jobs, but that even fewer of those jobs were open to obvious foreigners, though Trent got more than a few measuring looks based on his features. They didn't even manage to find jobs at the local Micky Ds knock off, a curious fast food joint by the name of 'MgRommels'.

They found themselves sitting on a bench near a train station, weird, shitty Japanese beverages of odd flavour in hand as they commiserated over their share failure.

Trent slugged back a mouthful of his shitty drink, which tasted vaguely of squid, known as Ding Crimson, and grimaced. "I don't know what's worse, this shit drink, or the lack of jobs. Then again, the way that one granny leered at me was pretty bad…"

"Sounds promising to me," Johan quipped, then made a face at the bitter, salty taste of the pale white juice he'd chosen, Sheer Ghahk Attack. "If you become a gigolo, maybe we'll be able to afford drinks that don't taste like regret and dissatisfaction."

"Not sure I'd be all that cool with wringing Trent's hypothetical sugar mamma dry of all her life-savings money, as much as we need it," Alphonse mused as he swirled the contents of the liquid-coolant looking drink on his hands, Neon World, unsure if he even wanted to taste it. He got the feeling that if he did, he might never be the same again. "And even if our...ah, sponsor, is pretty generous, I wouldn't want to try asking him for more money."

"The idea of asking Majima for more money is about as appetizing to me as that drink we didn't pick up. You know, White Lionheart, the one I turned down because I'm one racial epithet away from getting airdropped an Iron Cross," Blackmore agreed as he eyed the strangely purple liquid he'd been imbibing. He had thought it was supposed to be red. "As for being a gigolo…you think there's anywhere hiring hosts?"

Johan shrugged. "Maybe. You've certainly got the looks to attract the gaijin hunters, if nothing else."

"Ok, wait. Is this what we're going for? Are we really lowering ourselves to the point where we'd whore out Trent?" Alphonse asked, looking fairly unimpressed before sighing. "Ok, fine. But I'm not bailing him out if it turns out his partner is intent on awakening him to the power of CBT."

The American shuddered. "Don't you put that evil upon him, you wretched malamute. CBT is not to be trifled with, even in jest."

"…Y'all do realize, that if I became a host, I'd be under contract not to do that shit with them?" the blond inquired, looking between his fellows in crime.

"Eh." Alphonse shrugged. "I didn't bother looking much into the business of host clubs."

"I mean, my knowledge is just what I've absorbed from media, and especially the Yakoozies. Remember that Kiryu has never fucked," Trent replied, shaking his head at his friends' foolishness and lack of motivation.

"Actually, you boys never told me how you kids knew about me and Kiryu," Majima's voice suddenly interjected from over their shoulders, the man himself rising from the bushes behind them like a Viet-Cong.

After he managed to return his heart to his chest after that scare, Johan looked at Trent. "You're probably the best one to explain this, right?"

"Yeah…" Even as he said that, Majima whooped, and dragged the Canadian into the bush with him to have a quiet powwow. The blond did drop his can of Ding Crimson, but he would later go on record as it being 'No big loss.'

Johan looked at Alphonse, only to find him missing from the bench and currently on the floor, grasping his chest with a shocked expression, his shirt slowly getting stained by the disgusting liquid he'd dropped. Johan shrugged, picked up the two fallen cans, and walked to a nearby trash can to dispose of them, along with his own Sheer Ghack Attack. They'd have to remember to not drink these brands again.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Later that evening, the lads found themselves sitting around the small table in the room they rented, eating shitty cup noodles that only had the brand name NALT. The noodles, which were bland, mostly tasteless and somehow packed to the brim with sodium, were at least better than the sodas they'd had earlier in the day.

As he slurped down the last of his noodles, Trent stuck out his tongue and complained, "I can still taste Ding Crimson, haunting my tongue. It's somehow jumped past the NALT in order to punch my tastebuds with its shit flavour."

Johan made a face. "Don't remind me; I could go for the rest of my life without tasting another drop of Sheer Ghak Attack; that explosive, evil flavor had no weaknesses."

"I couldn't so much as experience the taste of Neon World, so I can't complain all that much." Alphonse shrugged, contemplatively stirring the last of his noodles around with a spork. "Actually, I'm curious: what did you tell Majima after he took you to his magical realm behind the bush?"

"Just about his ex-wife and the child she aborted without his knowledge," the blond answered as he leaned back, not enjoying the way that the NALT sat in his stomach. It was like some great ball of self-hatred had nestled itself in his gut. Probably all the sodium. "At least we have jobs now."

The Mexican had his spork halfway into his mouth when he heard the first part and stopped moving. Putting the utensil back into the cup, he could only say one thing. "Fucking christ, that's rough. I didn't know that."

Johan, on the other hand, set down his own utensil and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I...did not know that tidbit either." He let out a sigh. "The man's really lived a full life, hasn't he?"

"You can say that twice, my good marmite," Trent agreed with a nod, pulling one of his legs up. "I thought about telling him about the time his eye got popped out, but Papa Shimano was there, along with like, fifteen pipe wielding goons."

Alphonse sighed and went back to eating his noodles, after the first bite, he spoke up. "Well, you're right, at least we have jobs, though I'm not exactly filled with confidence over the fact that he didn't actually tell us what we'd be doing."

"Al, we were just handed jobs, I don't think we've really much room to complain," the Canuck replied, a dour grimace on his face. "Hopefully it's not something like working in a factory, that shit's the worst."

"Meanwhile, I just hope he didn't stick us with something blatantly illegal." Johan commented, setting down his empty NALT cup. "I know Al's got practice fighting off the cartels, and you've probably wrestled a bear or six, but I'm one of maybe five Americans who has never even touched a gun. If shit goes down, I'm fucked."

"First, bold of you to assume that I actually have a life that interesting," the Mexican began, pointing his spork at the American with a raised eyebrow. "Second, that's actually what has me concerned. I'm not sure I'd take the right to legitimately call Majima 'Boss' if it means becoming one of his boys, with all that that entails."

"Meanwhile, I'm not quite on the bear-wrestling level, more person-fighting, and even then, that was in high school. It's been a damn while since I've actually fought anyone," Trent admitted with a grimace. "Hell, if we're drafted into illegal shit…well, we'll have practice for when we need to run from the Shinjuku Gators."

Johan winced. "You make a valid point, even if I hate it. I haven't ever fought someone outside of sparring in Tae Kwon Do."

"Fuck, we might have to fight Kaito," Alphonse grimaced, before a realization hit him. "Fuck. We might have to fight Agito."

"As much as I hate to admit it, and I really hate to admit it…we probably will have to fight Kaito and Agito once we go through with opposing Behemoth." Johan took off his glasses and massaged his eyes.

Trent blinked, craned his head up to look at the ceiling, and then curled up into a ball. "Daddy, no…"

-x-x-x-x-x-

The Canuck smiled down at the fancy suit that Majima had jammed into his hands, glad that he hadn't been conscripted into the Yakuza. Though, he was still worried as to how Johan and Alphonse were going to take their jobs. "Thank you, Majima."

Johan was much less concerned with the not-so-fancy suit that he'd been given, unlike Trent. No, he was focused on the thirty-centimeter blade that he'd also been given, accompanied by the ominous words "You'll know what to do when the time comes."

As he stared at the razor sharp blade, an overwhelming sense of doom seeped up his limbs and seized his heart.

Meanwhile, the cyclops handed Alphonse something more eye-catching than any suit. A brand new, yet completely unremarkable mop.

The Mexican looked between the yak and the mop, eyes moving up and down repeatedly. After a bit he spoke up.

"You know what? I'm fine with this. I'm perfectly ok with this development."

Majima looked between the three of them, and nodded sharply. "Alright, so, you guys suit up and get ready for your first day on the job! Tommy, you're on the floor, learning the ropes from Hideo-chan. Jimmy, you're with Daigo-chan out front. Annie, you're with Taro-chan!"

Johan, finally breaking his gaze from the deadly weapon he'd been handed, deadpanned, "Just what the hell have we gotten ourselves into?"