Yellow Fury

Being a Henchman wasn't working out for Doug. The altercation with Roman and the little red girl hadn't helped, but a few weeks beforehand things had been even crazier than that on his boss' home turf. The club had been fairly populated that night, but the mixer to wear the Deadb3ar head had called in sick –lucky for him, as it turned out later –and Doug filled in for him. Managing the tunes had been a skill he quickly developed as the one lackey that came back most often, and at the time he'd gotten a haircut and shaved. Letting his appearance go a little afterward had directly resulted from the misfortune he was currently recollecting.

The night had been going well, seeing as no one had brought up complaints about the ambiance, and Junior had just closed the deal with Torchwick (that Doug had turned out to be a part of in the future) when a young blonde strolled in. He could see the silhouette of her and her golden hair through the door before she entered, and her outfit was gratuitously exposing. The girl's eyes drifted around the club, and she eventually parked herself next to Junior, which wasn't the best place for her to choose in his opinion. Doug simply went about his given task, but nearly slipped the controls when he saw her clutch his boss' crotch like a vise. It looked uncomfortable to say the least, but that was soon dropped and goons were everywhere. She probably wouldn't be walking home tonight... if she was lucky she might, but with a limp at least.

The blonde continued to toy with Junior, and not being able to hear from here Doug arched a brow when Junior went to kiss the girl at her proposal, only to get a knuckle sandwich that sent him through a few panes of glass. Henchmen closed in around her, and she flipped back high into the air; this was his cue.

His cue to change the music to something more fitting, of course. He wasn't going to abandon his duty to fight a teenager that just slugged his employer across the club. That would be ridiculous!

Screwing with the lights, he had the dance floor shine red for the intense battle raging well below him. She punched and kicked his coworkers wildly, sending them all careening every which way off the pad like she was king of the hill. "... I guess in this case, it'd be Queen of the Castle..." He murmured to himself over the mixed rendition of a Weiss Schnee classic. Soon, a kink in the hose; she was out of disposable dummies to pound into mush. This meant that it was expected of Doug to do something now... there was a machine gun below the table; he lifted it, taking not-so-careful aim at the girl below, and prayed as he sprayed bullets at her.

Spraying and praying wasn't enough in this moment, as the blonde weaved through the deadly barrage and leapt over the mixer, kicking him in the chest. In his daze, he was helpless as she drove a shot-powered elbow into his collarbone, slammed his head into the mixer, and lifted him to fire both fists into his torso, launching him from his perch and letting him plummet to the floor below with a painful thud. The stupid b3ar head was thrown off, and he was laying at the feet of the Malachite sisters now, the hammering of his skull against the mixer having switched the song and hue of lights once again... He rolled over, resisting the urge to see up their skirts from his vantage point, seeing as they were a ways out of his age range. As much as it wasn't any sort of rule, Doug's consideration of modesty was also a point he always thought matched poorly with his chosen profession.

Stepping away from the girls as the two-on-one began, Junior bade Doug over to where he stood soothing an ache in his face that looked similar to the one just bestowed on Doug himself. Henchman's rule number three; Doug ran over, prepared to obey whatever orders the man had prepared for him.

"How the hell do you do that?"

Doug blinked. "Do what?"

"Take a beating like that, and just get up like nothing happened. Biggest coward in my crew, but you're like a damn punching bag... Forget it. Go get that for me, Doug."

There were only so many things Junior could want right now, and considering his club was under attack, was probably asking for his weapon. Doug vaulted with his left over the bar counter, rushing into the back room to go collect the rocket launcher-giant club hybrid, removing it from the polished case among their other hardware. Upon return, he found Junior's hand out expectantly, so placed the bat into his employer's mitt. This earned him a hard swing of the weapon into the side of his head, dropping him instantly with a grunt. That seemed to make Junior feel a little better. "Good job, Doug. Get back to the music, would you?"

"Y... Yes, Boss." Doug groaned, clambering to all fours and slowly to his feet. He managed to walk back up to his earlier position just as the last of the two Malachites were soundly beaten, shifting the song respectively as Junior made his re-entrance. Picking up the machine gun again, Doug aimed and pulled the trigger as the blonde girl evaded missiles, hearing an empty click. 'How disappointing,' he thought sarcastically; 'I was hoping for another ass-kicking from goldilocks over there.'

The back of his collar was grabbed, and Doug was yanked from the mixer by Melanie, dragging him down to where she and Miltia stood injured. Apparently, neither of them were injured enough to refrain from reaming out Doug for not changing the music as he was supposed to; the fact that they both lost to the Yellow Fury couldn't possibly be their fault, so it must have been the sounds being played over the speakers. That made all kinds of sense.

"Ugh, I hate that song! It was grating my ears the whole time we fought that girl!" Doug could think of something else grating his ears right now. Miltia wound up while Melanie was complaining still, swinging her leg up between his and lifting him for a moment with the impact. Doug let off a high-pitched noise much like his boss had not long ago.

"Next time, do your freaking job!" She yelled down at the cringing lackey now on his face and knees, and Melanie looked like she intended to add her own last comment and strike –but the sound of Junior getting bashed so hard he flew clean out of the club drew their attention. The girls made as much haste as they could in their current state, leaving Doug to his own thoughts on the floor.

'Maybe this isn't really the job for me...'

In the dark alleyway, Doug hid from the scene of Torchwick's and the Red Devil's fight until the police would finish speaking with the Dust Shop owner. The thought from the end of the night long before this one echoed in the back of his mind again, and Doug considered it more intently this time. Up until now he had never really considered anything else since his background would keep most anyone from hiring him now, and his skills were few outside the able-bodiedness required of grunt work; such as being a small fish in the pond that was organized crime. Returning to Junior as he was now would earn him some bruises; that were certain, seeing that it was the man's favorite stress reliever. If he stayed under the man's thumb any longer that pastime would only spread as he slid down the pecking order due to successive failures, and more helpings of pain from the Malachites as well as group punishment from his fellows did not sound pleasant in the least. He hated to say it, but it seemed now was the time for Doug to look for a new job.

But what could a former henchman possibly apply for? What should one apply for?

Doug wasn't even sure if someone would let him be a garbage man, let alone any other dirty job no one wanted. Even if the calling list was short, his credentials put off just about anyone, and his criminal record couldn't be erased overnight. No, whatever new thing he did, it would have to be another under-the-table job, possibly even something else that was illegal, and it wouldn't take long for Junior to discover that his old underling had taken up some other manner of business... Doug needed a new boss. A new underhanded, shady, intimidating boss. He wasn't exactly hopeful after abandoning the two biggest names in the underworld.

As luck would have it, Doug found a hand on his shoulder, and a smile full of pointed teeth beaming at him.