Chapter 1: Junior's Choice
Or
The Game of Scrabble Begins
"Goodbye"
'At the very least, she had the decency to give me that.'
An increasingly alcoholic Adam thought as he continues to drown his sorrows with another shot of whiskey. It's warmth flowing down his throat for the 3rd maybe 5th time.
'Stupid sorrows' He thought drunkenly
'They learned how to swim'
You might think he was in a bar like setting, with the bartender giving helpful experienced advice, old buddies playing darts, and the occasional depressed drunk trying bankrupt himself in order to forget the past.
There were two things wrong with that.
Firstly, Adam himself was the drunk…
Secondly, this wasn't a bar; it was a nightclub, THE club, to be exact. The one owned, managed and run by key information broker; Hei Xiong, more commonly known as Junior by the scum and vermin known as Vale's criminals, and if you're wondering why a grown man would refer to himself as Junior, the rumour goes his mother wanted to name him after his father, too bad the whore forgot the sack-of-shit's name, and the name stuck even after she gave Hei as his name.
'That must have been an awkward talk' was the thought that came before the automatic shot of liquor the bull faunus took with a scowl on his masked face. On the other side of the club a few of Junior's boys were having a disagreement with their job description.
"You do it" a thug wearing crimson shades and a black suit said as he pushed a similarly dressed fellow employee towards the intoxicated assassin.
"N-No way man, I ain't going near 'im."
"But Junior said-"
"Forget what Junior said, I like my head where it is; on my neck." The thug reasoned with self-preservation in mind
"Ah screw this, he doesn't look too tough." Another one said, this one however was a not a wuss unlike his comrades. He walks straight to the bar, showing no sign of self-doubt he confidently approaches Adam. The other thugs held their breath as their buddy gets close enough.
"Hey you!" the goon calls, the terrorist doesn't seem to acknowledge his presence. Not wanting to be ignored the criminal draws his pistol threateningly for emphasis.
"We're not open, so get your damn ass-"
BANG
It must be a tragedy that your last profound word to be 'ass'.
The literal smoking gun in hand, Adam doesn't even admire his handy work as he turns to the other-less deceased- henchmen.
"Hey, he drew first." Adam justified.
They weren't so keen on that.
"Oh shit, he killed Kenny!"
"You bastard!"
"Let's get him!"
Adam lets out an annoyed groan as the thugs rush towards him. He pours himself another shot…
Exactly 18 seconds later.
…and gulps it down.
"H…Ho-H-How?" Junior exclaims in a mixture of disbelief and amazement as he sees Adam standing in the middle of the club's dance floor as the rest of his men lay barely beaten and breathing on the ground.
"You just killed 16 of my men!"
"Relax, I only killed one of them, the rest are just knocked-out."
"Shit! This one's not even breathing."
"Would you rather have him breathing or bleeding?"
"I just got these guys!"
"So?"
"Grr…Get out."
The faunus in question refused to even notice Junior as he made his way back to the where he left his Rifflejato and a half-empty bottle of whiskey. Junior proceeds to kick out the dangerously tipsy terrorist by grabbing him by the arm and sending him out Bartender Style.
"What, did you go deaf? I said get out-" Junior barely even touches him before Adam swiftly grabbed his arm and connected Junior's skull to the counter.
THUD
"Oww"
Adam pulls out a machete he disarmed from one the henchmen and run it through Junior's hand, from the palm all the way to the wrist, pinning it to the bar top.
"Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhh"
Junior screams as the sensitive nerves in his hand bombard his brain with massive signals of pain.
"I bet a guy like you must've heard." Adam guessed as he sadistically plunges the blade deeper, the hilt firmly planting Junior's hand to the counter. "
"OH GOD, AGH...What do you want with me!?" Junior demanded, hoping this will all end when he gets what he wants.
"What I want is pay-back, I can't do it alone so you're going to help me."
"S-Sure, I'll loan you some men, maybe even the Malachite twin's-"
"I'm going against Beacon, Junior! Beacon, even I can't do that with second-rate thugs and hookers with sharp accessories. I need the best and you're telling me where they are."
Adam pulls out a phone from his tail-coat, Pictures of different places pop-out. Secluded, dark, and incredibly high-security locations coupled with profile pics of candidates for Adam's team.
"Tell me where they are."
Having been in a similar predicament like this before, Junior could only curse his luck that such a thing could happen to him.
Again.
'Why does this always happen to me' he ruefully thought.
"I've never heard of any of them."
Adam pours the bottle of whiskey on Junior's wounded hand, the pathetic sound of Junior's pain filed cries echo through the club.
"Ha…agh…please…stop."
Adam pours some more whiskey
"I don't know. I swear to God..."
"SWEAR TO ME!"
The very agitated white fang insurgent grabs the back of Junior's head and shoves his face in the phone for emphasis. This was Junior's last chance for survival, Adam kept scrolling the down the list of faces, places, and possible aliases, Junior prayed to whatever omnipresent being out there watching out for him, to find just one name to remember. Just one…
"Wait stop!"
Adam stops scrolling, it lands to just a picture with barely a name on the bottom.
"I-I know this guy" he says with relief "I know where he is."
Seeing for himself who the guy in question was, Adam's eyes widen in disbelief behind his mask. He never expected among all the would-be candidates for his team, Junior knew the location of the only one man Adam himself feared.
A most essential criterion.
"You do?"
Junior nods his head.
"Yeah, he's a real nut. He was sent to the loony bin for some crazy-ass stuff, said he was too dangerous to be out with us sane people." Junior said in 'word on the street' kind of way.
"How do you know where he is?" That was said more as a threat of pain than a question. If there's one thing worse than no information; it's false information.
"His godfather and I are buddies."
And there goes another shot of whiskey…
"Oww…Alright, alright I owe a shit load of cash to his godfather." He clarified with a more believable answer
"Damn alcohol." Junior curses to himself.
"Where." was the incredibly frightening single syllabic demand that will forever creep in the corners of Junior's mind.
"Listen kid, I hope you know who you're dealing with here." Junior starts "This guy, he's like nothing you've ever seen, he's a fucking monster."
That warning fell to deaf ears, for all Adam could do was fantasize on the path of destruction he could cause with a man like that at his disposal. And above all that his name started with an 'A'.
"He's perfect."
"Now where is he?"
She couldn't stop her ears from twitching under her bow as she waited.
The box clearly instructed in obnoxiously bright pink lettering that it would take exactly three minutes for her to be able to get the results. Blake sighed upon realizing that it had only been one. This might as well be the most agonizing two minutes of her life.
She cradled her head in her hands as she waited.
And waited.
And waited.
She went back to the sink and picked up the strip. True to the instructions, it had changed color. She turned back to the box to decipher the results.
BLUE - POSITIVE
RED - NEGATIVE
WHITE - INVALID
She shifted her glance to the strip in her hands and dropped the package in the process.
"Oh shit."
Never has blue become such a terrifying color until now.
Back to the club a very satisfied Adam just finished checking the legitimacy of Junior's info. It brought a demonic smile to his face.
"So this where he's been…" Adam remarks as he zones out for a bit.
"Looks like a pretty hard-place to breakout of, even for him." Adam admits to himself, not really sounding the least bit sincere.
"Can you just go already, I told you were he is?" A very much ignored (and injured) Junior said.
Adam heads to the other side of the bar top, and pulls out two bottles of Jack from the array of merchandise.
"Few months ago a girl set this place on fire."
He takes a gulp straight from the bottle then dumps it all on the floor the thugs were laying down on and just behind Junior, the floor was now wet with the easily combustible liquor.
"Did the cops ever catch her?"
"Are you kidding, I wouldn't get the cops involved." Junior says blissfully unaware of what comes next.
Adam approaches Junior, instead of pulling out the machete stabbing Junior's hand to the bar counter as he should, he instead hands Junior a dull kitchen knife he seemed to have brought along.
"Don't bother pulling it out. You'll never make it."
A perplexed Junior could only stare at the tiny knife in his weak hand as Adam pores half of the other bottles contents on the bar top connecting this stream of whiskey to the one between Junior and his men and sets it on a puddle of its contents just a few feet from Junior.
He then takes ten steps towards the exit.
"What are you-"
BANG
The bottle ignites as the bullet shatters it; the fire quickly spreads throughout the bar.
"She or someone else came back to finish the job." The assassin sheathes back his blade into the smoking gun "Or at least that's what the cops would think. They won't even bat an eye."
"OOOHHHHHHH! SHIT! I THOUGHT YOU SAID YOU WERE GONNA LET ME GO?!"
"I didn't say that." Adam calmly replies as he walks away but not before saying a friendly piece of advice.
"Your choice Junior cut off the hand or burn to death."
And with that the knife in Junior's left hand seems allot more…liberating.
Adam leaves the club ablaze, he hears screams of cursing as he walks away, a few explosions vibrate the air, sirens replace it after a few minutes, and firemen came in after minutes or so after the whole club is engulfed in flames.
Too bad nobody got out before then…
"Too bad." Adam whispers to whoever can hear as he makes his way to his first teammate's location Lamb Asylum For The Criminally Insane.
End of Chapter 1