AUTHOR'S NOTES: Well, this chapter blew up a bit. I originally meant it to be shorter, but I was having a lot of fun writing Drunk Ruby and then the bar fight, so it ended up being longer. Ah well...I doubt anyone's going to complain, right? Right?

Caesars Palace

Las Vegas, Nevada, United States of Canada (Provisional)

24 April 2002

"So you own this place now, Raven?" Yang asked as they walked into the suite. The sun was beginning to set.

"Kind of," Raven told her. "I have some things to iron out first. This Dennis guy has to call the big dons back in Italy, and they have to decide if they want to start a turf war with me." She laughed. "I'm willing to bet—" Raven paused, then shrugged "—I guess I am betting my life that they won't. The Mafia will get their cut of the money out of Vegas, so I think they'll be happy. Dennis seemed pretty relieved to hear that Amoncio is taking an extended vacation. Something tells me that fatass outstayed his welcome."

"Are you sure? We can come with you," Ruby offered, which made Yang give her a look.

"Nah," Raven said airily. "You kids go get shitfaced and have some fun. Just remember not to start a fight, and…well, keep your cell phones on. Just in case." But she spread her hands modestly. "I think it'll be fine. The Mafia knows that if they kill me, the Branwen Tribe will jump them—and we've got a hell of a lot more firepower. A gang war will weaken the Mafia's territory here, and the other criminal groups will move in. It'll be fine." She sounded more confident than she felt. Raven didn't want to say that her own Tribe would probably start killing each other over who took over next if something happened to her. "They also have to wonder how much of Big Daddy Gubmint is backing me up. That was a good move on Wilkerson's, bringing that company of Marines up here from Yuma." She winked at Blake. "Semper fi."

"Semper fi," Blake acknowledged. Wilkerson had thought that the surviving Mafia pilots might want revenge, so he had thoughtfully and quietly called in a company of Marines on a C-130 from Yuma. The presence of heavily-armed Marines at McCarran had kept the Mafia's remaining aircraft on the ground before Dennis had ordered them to stand down.

"Like I said, go have fun. I'll be back in a few hours." She waved Yang over to follow her out the door. Once it was closed behind them, she warned her daughter, "This could go south. Just wanted to let you know. If I send you a text to get out, grab a cab and buster for the airport. Don't wait around, okay?"

"You think it's going to go south?"

"If I did, I wouldn't go," Raven said. "But I just wanted you to know. You've…" She paused. "Tai did a good job with you," Raven finished awkwardly. "I know you hate me and you have every right. But if something does happen to me…get Qrow, go to California, and take over the Tribe." Yang's mouth dropped open and she began to protest. "I mean it," Raven insisted. "Your Air Force career is over anyway, within a year or two with that fucking letter of reprimand. So go do something. The Tribe will accept you. You're my blood, dammit."

Yang almost told Raven to go to hell, then reconsidered. She wanted to go mercenary, not air pirate, but there wasn't that much daylight between them. Hell, Yang thought, maybe I could turn them into something decent? "I'll think about it."

Raven slapped her shoulder. "Good. Not to be a sore loser or anything, but if the Mafia kills me, could you stick a Mark 84 into this fucking hotel?"

Yang grinned. "Yeah, I can probably do that."

"Warheads on foreheads." Raven winked at her and headed for the elevator, one hand on her sword hilt. It occurred to Yang that this sword looked different, and wondered where she had gotten it. It also occurred to her just how much alike she and her mother looked alike. "Hey," she called out when Raven reached the elevator.

"Yeah?" Raven turned around.

Yang gave her a wry smile. "Be careful…Mom."

Raven shook her head and chuckled as the doors closed in front of her.

With Raven gone, Ruby Flight now needed to figure out where to commence the drinking. Ruby was noncommittal; Weiss wanted to stay in; Blake wanted to go out, but wasn't sure where; Yang wanted to dance. Yang and Blake united to convince Ruby, and then all three ganged up on Weiss. The Colosseum was inevitably the Palace's main dance club—there were three others, but one was a country bar (Ruby absolutely refused to go to that), one was a jazz bar (Yang vetoed that), and one was clearly for an older set than all four of them (even Weiss agreed).

With Emperor Suite passes, they were able to bypass the line to get in, and walked directly into the Colosseum. The place was huge, and their ears were instantly assaulted with the thump-thump-thump of electrodance music. "All right!" Yang shouted, though the other three could barely hear her. The club was circular, with three floors, each set back from the other to surround the massive dance floor. Semicircle bars rimmed two of the sides, while the entrance took up a third; the fourth was the DJ booth. Weiss pointed to the first floor, where arched alcoves gave the club the look of the Roman Colosseum, and gave patrons something of a respite to escape the bone-jarring bass of the dance floor. "Let's get a booth!" she yelled.

"Hell yeah!" Yang nodded vigorously and pumped her hands in the air. "Raise the roof!"

Weiss stood on tiptoe to shout in Yang's ear. "I said let's get a booth, you dolt!"

Yang put a finger in her ear. "Geez, Weiss!"

Weiss mumbled something about wanting to go to a karaoke bar instead, but took the stairs up to the first floor. The others followed. Up here, the music was loud, but not deafening. The club was packed, but they found a booth. All four were dressed casually—in the only casual clothes Ruby, Blake and Yang had brought with them, which weren't exactly clean, but Ruby had thought wearing flight suits to the bar when they had killed three Mafia pilots earlier in the day was probably a bad idea.

A waitress dressed in a toga that left very little to be wondered at came up to the table. "Ladies, what'll it be?" Blake noticed she was a Faunus, but this was not Lynn Mikado.

"Do you have German beer?" Weiss asked. The waitress confirmed that they did. "A Lowenbrau, then."

"Hmm…" Blake considered. "A scotch for me. On the rocks."

Yang put her nose in the air slightly. "A vodka martini. Shaken, not stirred." She put a metal hand on Ruby's shoulder. "My sister will have a glass of milk."

"Like hell," Ruby said. "A White Russian, please."

"And a nacho platter," Blake added. Aside from their hurried lunch in St. George, they hadn't eaten all day—and Blake's stomach hadn't been up to much eating then, not after seeing what Riana Arashikaze had done to the backseat of the F-18.

The waitress got their order and left. Yang took a drink of water, then got up. "Welp…I'm going to go dance. C'mon, Blake."

"Me?" Blake put a hand on her chest. "Why not Weiss or Ruby?"

"I don't dance to noise," Weiss grumbled. "I thought we were going to a club with classic rock, not Eurodance. What the hell is a Cotton Eye Joe, anyway?"

"And I don't dance!" Ruby insisted, which wasn't necessarily true—Ruby had caught the look from her sister, however. "Go for it, Blake."

"Oh…all right." Blake slid out of the booth. "But I'll warn you, Yang…I dance about as well as a tank."

"Don't worry, Blake—I'll show you some moves." Yang shot her fingers at Ruby and Weiss. "Keep our drinks cold, ladies." She leaned over the table; the top she wore left a lot of cleavage visible. "Want me to find us some hawt guys?" Yang teased.

"God, no," Weiss groaned. She and Marrow might just be friends with benefits, but there was no telling what Yang would bring back for her.

"I got a boyfriend, dummy!" Ruby yelled at her sister.

"Okay, I won't…but don't come crying to me when it's just you and Mister Shower Head tonight." Yang messed with Ruby's hair and left with Blake.

Weiss craned her head over the balcony rail. "I guess we can watch them make fools out of themselves from here." She looked at Ruby. "Did you want to dance, Ruby? You don't have to stay here with me."

"Nah," Ruby said. "I'm actually kinda tired, to be honest. I'm good with sitting here and just…ooh, nachos!" The waitress set a platter of nachos in the center of the table that would have fed a squadron. The drinks came next. Ruby devoured a handful of nachos and cheese with the same vigor as a starving bear, then picked up the White Russian.

"Ruby," Weiss warned, "go easy. Remember what happened at Beacon? How sick you were the next morning?"

Ruby gave Weiss a pitying expression. "Weiss, c'mon. I'm a grown-ass woman. If I want to get plastered tonight and barf in the morning, that's my decision." She rolled her eyes as Weiss continued to stare at her. "Okay, Mom, fine. I will go easy."

Yang sighed during a break in the songs. "Blake…you are one of the best fighter pilots I've ever seen."

"Thank you, Yang."

"So why do you suck at dancing?"

Blake threw up her hands. "I don't know! Because I'm a Marine?"

Yang shook her head. "Oh sure, blame the USMC. I bet Chesty Puller could dance like a motherfucker. C'mon, Blake. Try again."

The Vengaboys filled the dance floor with a story about their party bus, and Blake did as she was asked. Yang watched her. Blake either danced like a bobblehead on a dashboard, or like she was having a seizure. "Okay, okay!" She gave the time-out signal. They waited until the song ended, then with Eiffel 65 coming on to talk about a little guy who lives in a blue world, Yang told Blake, "Just relax. You're trying too hard. Just let the music move you!" As the song started in earnest, Yang started moving her body to the driving beat. Yang was no Michael Jackson, but she was doing pretty well—and, Blake thought, was getting quite the attention from everyone else. That was not to be wondered at, she considered: a statuesque blonde with bigger than average breasts was going to be noticed. It wasn't long before a fairly handsome man decided to try his luck with her. He started dancing with Yang, who didn't take offense and matched her movements to his.

"Hey!" Blake turned and found herself staring at a man almost twice her size, with a physique that strained at the shirt he wore. "Mind if I dance with you?"

Blake almost said no, but then she decided to hell with it. "Why not!" For a big man, he moved with a deceptive grace, and Blake tried to do the same. She found the rhythm, and the big man smiled at her. As Blake passed Yang, the other woman threw her a thumbs-up. And just like that, Blake was having fun. Almost an hour passed as they danced, but neither woman wanted it to end.

Weiss studied Ruby in the same way a scientist would study a lunatic. Despite Weiss' warnings, Ruby was now on her third White Russian, and she was drunk already. Weiss, who was still nursing her beer, sat in rapt attention as Ruby held forth on Oscar Pine. It was fascinating, Weiss thought, in the same way watching two trains collide was fascinating. "S'great!" Ruby told her, loudly, and Weiss was glad that the two adjacent booths were empty. "He goes down on me, Weish! And he's fuckin' good at it! I mean, I suck at oral—" She realized the pun in that, and dissolved into giggles.

Weiss had to laugh. "Ruby, you are, in the parlance of Raven Branwen, shitfaced."

Ruby grabbed her White Russian and raised it. "Thought that was th' fuckin' point, Weish! We're gettin' fuckin' fucked up because we need to unwou…unwish…feel better!" She downed half of it. "And I feel great!"

Weiss sipped her beer. "You're going to feel really great in the morning."

"Yeah? Don' fuckin' care." Ruby raised her glass. "Hey, waitress! Gimme another one of these! These're fuckin' awesome!" She set it down and leaned closer. "Where was I?"

Weiss debated steering Ruby to a different topic besides her sex life, but despite herself, Weiss wanted to watch the train wreck to keep going, in the same way one might want to see just how far a disaster movie goes. "You were talking about Oscar, in excruciating detail."

"Oh yeh." Ruby shrugged. "Y'know, he doesn't have a big dick. I mean, I dunno…he's the only dick I ever seen, y'know? Not like my big sis. She seen lotsa dicks. She fucked Tripod, after all. Anyways, Oscar, he's not well-hanged…but he's got a nice one." And much to Weiss' embarassment, Ruby went on to describe Oscar's penis in such detail that Weiss knew she would have a tough time ever speaking to Lieutenant (junior grade) Oscar Pine, USN, ever again. "But y'know…" Ruby smiled conspiratorially, one eye half shut, "…when that thing's inside…feels s'good…y'know?" She reached across and took Weiss' hand. "Doesh it feel that way…with Marrow?"

Weiss blushed and drank some of her beer, then signaled the waitress to bring her another one too. She had no intention of getting drunk—seeing Willow Schnee at her worst had a way of curing her of ever wanting to get drunk—but another beer would at worst give her a little buzz. "Well. A lady doesn't kiss and tell, Ruby."

"Ah, c'mon. I told ya alla that schtuff 'bout Oscar."

"That's because you are drunk, Ruby." The fourth White Russian and the second beer arrived. Yang and Blake's drinks sat untouched; they were still dancing.

"C'mon, Weish! Tell 'bout Marrow. Ish he…y'know…good? Does he feel good inschide?"

Weiss was mortified at that question, but Ruby's silver eyes were like a puppy's—a severely inebriated puppy. "Well…yes, Ruby, he's really good. And it…does feel good," she admitted. In fact, Weiss thought to herself, her blush deepening, I kind of wish he was here now.

"Do y'love him?"

Weiss shook her head. "No, Ruby. I think very highly of him, but Marrow and I do not love each other."

Ruby nodded as if that was a deep philosophical revelation. "Thatsh too bad, Weish. You should love schomeone. Getcha a good man. Or woman! I'm not a racishist or anything." She finished the third White Russian. "I mean…Yang'sch gay. Or bi. Whatevers. Y'know she lovesch Blek, right?"

"Yes, Ruby, I know Yang loves Blake." But Blake doesn't love Yang, Weiss thought sadly. She wanted them to be happy. There was enough left of her upbringing that Weiss was shocked that two of her friends were in a sort-of same-sex relationship, but then again, Jacques would be sickened to know that his daughter was occasionally sleeping with a Faunus. At least, Weiss thought with savage glee, I hope he is. She drank some more of the beer, then saw Ruby reach for her new White Russian. She put a hand over it. "Ruby, stop. Pace yourself. Eat more nachos." Weiss knew that one reason why Ruby had gotten drunk so quickly was that she was drinking on a mostly empty stomach.

"You ain't my mom," Ruby growled.

"No, but I am your friend, and I really do not want to take my friend to the local emergency room with alcohol poisoning."

Some tiny bit of common sense was still left in Ruby's vodka-soaked brain that she slowly nodded. "Okies." She leaned back in her chair and grinned at Weiss. "C'mon, Weish! Tell me 'bout Marrow. Does his tail wag when you're havin' sechs?"

Yes, Weiss almost blurted, but while she thought that was extremely cute—Marrow was always terribly embarrassed by it—she would not admit it under torture, and especially not to a big mouth like Ruby, who would promptly tell Yang, who would tease her unmercifully. "Ruby Lindsay Rose! That is private information. Just because you want to tell me everything about your sex life with poor Oscar doesn't mean that I'm going to reciprocate."

"Whatevs." Ruby grabbed her liquor, but didn't drink it. She just looked into it. "I love him, Weish. I really, really do." Uh oh, Weiss thought. Ruby was probably entering the mauldlin phase of her drunkenness. "Y'know…me an' Raven…we had a good talk 'other night. Really good one. She tol' me…we're all prob'ly gonna die, right?"

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Weiss told her. The last thing she needed was a weepy Ruby. Besides, she didn't particularly like to think how close she came to death every time they went into combat. Those were thoughts for other nights—preferably when she was not alone. Marrow wasn't just good for the occasional romp in bed: there were nights he had held Weiss while she cried into his shoulder, when the memories of her high-speed ejection over the Sea of Japan was too much, or the night she had spent in the cabin in Poland, knowing she was dying of radiation poisoning. Then again, she had held Marrow when the memories were too much for him, when he remembered Vine Zeki crashing his F-35 into the flak gun that was threatening the evacuation of Delta Force in Warsaw. I never told Vine what a great guy he was, Marrow had said. I never thanked him for being my friend.

Weiss pushed those memories aside, because Ruby was still talking. "Well…maybe not. Thatsh what Raven said. We're gonna die, but maybe we die when we're all old ladies and gray and shit." She looked blearily at Weiss' white hair and her eyes widened. "No offensh, Weish! I'm shorry!"

"None taken, Ruby."

"Anyways…Raven saysh I should enjoy what I got ash long as I got it. Scho I should marry Oscar an' be hish wife and schtuff. Have lotsa sex. Maybe meet hish folksh." Ruby nodded with conviction. "Yeah, definitely meet hish mom back in North Nebraskalina." Weiss had to smother a laugh at that one. "I mean…we did meet hish dad already. Y'know, Ozschpin." She ate a few nachos. "Anyways…don' know about kidsch yet. I wanna be a mom, like my mom. Supermom. But I don' wanna leave them all alone like me an' Yang wash…" To Weiss' surprise, Ruby didn't start crying. Instead, she smiled—drunkenly, but a genuine smile all the same. "I think I'd be a good mama. I wanna be. You thinksh sho, Weish?"

"I think you'd be a wonderful mother," Weiss said, truthfully.

"Yeah? Aww…Weish. Thanksch."

At that moment, a sweaty Yang and Blake finally came back to the table. Yang grabbed her martini and drank most of it down. "Whew! That was some fun stuff!" She plunked down in a seat next to Ruby. "Hey, sis, how're you doing?"

"I'm drunk," Ruby admitted. "Me an' Weiss have been talkin' 'bout sesch."

"You have, huh?" Yang turned to Weiss, grinning. "And how much 'sesch' have you been talking about?"

"It's been almost all Ruby," Weiss told her. "I now know everything about Ruby and Oscar's sex life, including measurements. It's been a fascinating conversation."

"I bet." Blake drank some of her scotch, made a face, and called the waitress over to order a Coke. She wiped sweat out of her face. "I think my dancing has gotten better."

"Yeah, not bad," Yang said. "Though when 'Danger Zone' came on, what the hell were you doing? I mean, that guy you were dancing with looked so damn confused."

"They played 'Danger Shone'?" Ruby asked. "Fuchs! I didn't hear that."

"You were too busy telling me that you were bad at oral sex." Weiss wasn't quite above needling her friend a little.

"Those were catapult officer signals!" Blake insisted. "It's totally a dance!"

"It was super weird." Yang paused and looked at Ruby. "Wait, what did you tell Weiss?"

"It'sh true!" Ruby looked ready to cry. "I'm sho bad at it, Yang! I mean, he don' last five minutes before he comes! And thish one time, when we were campin' out at Dad's housh, he din't warn me and I got blashted right in the—" Yang put a hand over her sister's mouth before she could finish that sentence. Very little embarrassed Yang Xiao Long, but her little sister talking about oral sex was one of them.

Weiss thumbed at Ruby. "This is what I've been listening to for the past hour. I admit it's been interesting, in a sort of Tenerife Disaster sort of way."

"You want to go dance?" Blake asked, as her soda arrived. "I can babysit Ruby for a bit."

"Fuck you, Blek!" Ruby shouted. "I ain't no baby!" She started to get up. "C'mon, Weish! Let's go dancsh! I can dansh like fuckin' Riverdansh!"

Yang grabbed Ruby and held her down in the seat. "Rubes, right now, you're going to dance like Uncle Qrow after two bottles of Southern Comfort." Ruby exploded into laughter. "Weiss, if you want to go dance with Blake, go for it. I'll take care of Sis."

"No, I think I'm good," Weiss sighed. "I'm afraid this kind of music is not really what I was trained to dance to. I don't think my ballet training would be great for…whatever this is that's playing."

"ATB," Blake supplied.

"Advancshed Tactical Bomber?" Ruby asked.

"Oh God, she's still an airplane nut even when she's drunk!" Yang laughed. She finished the martini and called over the waitress. "More nachos and a beer for me. Make it a Coors—no, forget the beer! Jeremiah Weed! Fighter pilot booze." She hugged Ruby, who started giggling again. "I gotta catch up to my sister." She poked Blake in the shoulder. "So who was that guy you were dancing with?"

"Oh…I couldn't hear his name very well. I think it was Vorn something? Weird name." Blake shrugged with a bit of a blush, her ears going back. "I mean…he's kind of good looking. And he can dance for a big guy."

"Did you get his number?" Yang asked.

Blake laughed. "No!"

"You could." Yang pushed aside her empty martini glass. "I don't have a claim on you, Blake."

What might have turned the conversation into something more serious was interrupted by a man walking up to their table. He was handsome enough as well, dressed in a business suit with the jacket unbuttoned, and no tie. "Excuse me," he said politely, and turned to Weiss. "Forgive my intrusion, but my friends and I have been staring at you all night, Miss. You are quite beautiful."

Despite herself, Weiss turned slightly pink. "Why, thank you."

"We were wondering if you might join us at our table." He motioned about five tables down, to an alcove set against the wall. There were five other men sitting there, all dressed the same as the man addressing her. He glanced around the table. "In fact, all of you can. Even the Faunus."

Blake's ears went back again, but for a different reason. Weiss smiled politely, but shook her head. "I am sorry, sir, but I must decline."

"But I must insist!" the man continued. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, miss. I have never seen hair like that, so rich and lustrous." He gently took Weiss' braid and caressed it.

Weiss was about to rebuff him again, but it was Yang who reached over and touched his sleeve. "Hey, buddy. She said no, okay? Go find someone else. Lots of other girls here tonight."

The man jerked his arm away. "Don't you dare touch me!" he shouted at Yang. "Do you know who I am?"

"Not a clue." Yang's metal hand closed around Ruby's White Russian, which would make a decent weapon if crashed against a forehead.

The man rolled up his sleeve, showing off an elaborate tattoo. "I am Shin Jingu, of the Black Dragon Society—the yakuza to gaijin bitches like you. You don't touch us. You don't even think about touching us, or we'll burn you out." He snorted in contempt at Yang. "I was talking to the beautiful girl here, not you, you big-titted bim—"

To everyone's surprise, it was not Yang who got to her feet, or Blake, or even Weiss. It was Ruby. She pushed past Yang, grabbed a double handful of the man's shirt—he was not much taller than she was—and shoved him. He didn't fall, but was so surprised by her effrontery that he could do nothing but stare at her. "Lissen to me, fuckhead!" she yelled, turning heads around the bar. "You don' touch her, got it? You don' touch her! Touch her again an' I'll fuckin' rip your balls off with my fuckin' teeth! An' you don' talk that way 'bout my big sis. Or my friend Blek. You don' like Faunus, you fuckin' raschist? That your fuckin' problem?"

"Who the hell do you think you are—" Jingu began.

"Who'm I? I'm fuckin' Ruby Rose, you stupid fuckin' fucker!" Ruby shouted. "I'm the best fuckin' fighter pilot inna whole fuckin' world! And thass Weiss—she's m'BFF—m'best fuckin' friend! An'Yang an' Blek. We're fuckmotherin' Ruby Flight, bitch! Now you say you're sorry, or Imma fuck you up."

Jingu looked from Ruby to Weiss. "Weiss? Weiss Schnee?"

"Oh shit," Blake whispered. She grabbed the empty chair. Weiss pulled her chair back, seeing visions of the yakuza trying to kidnap her in her imagination.

However, Ruby wasn't the only one who had a bit too much to drink tonight, and kidnapping for ransom was the last thing on Shin Jingu's mind at the moment. He laughed instead. "I guess it's true. A Schnee really will do anything for money—or anyone." Ruby blinked, not quite getting what Jingu was implying. He looked down at her. "Is that her natural color, you fucking dyke?"

Ruby understood that sentence, and with an inarticulate sound of utter rage, threw herself at Jingu. As a physical fighter, Ruby was an excellent pilot, but her fists flew in a blur as she managed to hit a very surprised yakuza man thrice in the stomach and once in the side. What she lacked in finesse she made up for with enthusiasm, and Jingu staggered, grabbing his middle and gasping—or would have, if Ruby hadn't leapt at him and speared him into the wall like a pro wrestler.

The other four at the yakuza table got up, and Ruby Flight cleared their chairs. They were outnumbered and outclassed—they were fighter pilots, not ground fighters—but the rule was and always had been: mess with one of us, scramble with all of us. "Yang!" Blake exclaimed. "Throw me your belt!"

"My what?"

"Your belt! Hurry!" Yang did as instructed, and then had to dodge a swing from one of the yakuza. She was the biggest, and drew two dance partners; one went for Weiss, the other for Blake. Ruby and Jingu, for their part, were rolling around on the floor, incoherently screaming as they beat and kicked each other—largely ineffectively, because Jingu was too busy trying to survive the flurry of blows he was getting, and Ruby was too drunk and not strong enough to do much damage in any case.

Weiss knew she was very outmatched—she had taken basic martial arts with her sister Winter, but these were professionals. She tried a feint and a punch, but the yakuza grabbed her by the front of her blouse and slammed her onto one of the empty tables. She tried to kick him in the groin, but he turned at the last minute; her hasty kick did force the yakuza to let go of her. Weiss rolled off the table and looked for something to even the odds—and found it. She turned and ran, which was something the yakuza didn't expect, jumped onto a table of onlookers, shouted "Sorry!" and grabbed the ornamental gladius attached to the top of the alcove. She dropped nimbly to the ground and faced the man who came after her. By the weight of the gladius, she knew that it wasn't just ornamental, though she doubted it had an edge. It had a point, however. The yakuza backed away towards his own table, and Weiss pressed her advantage—she didn't want to kill him, but forcing him to sit at swordpoint, she thought, was a good idea. Then she realized that he wasn't just retreating. Once he reached the table, the yakuza's hand darted under his discarded suit and came up with a tanto. He unsheathed it. Weiss nodded and assumed the starting position of a fencer. "En garde."

Blake wrapped one end of the belt around her right hand and held the buckle with her left. The yakuza was fast, starting off with a kick that she barely dodged, then a hand strike that brushed the side of her head, luckily only a glancing blow rather than a solid hit. That, however, had brought her opponent easily within reach. Blake stepped backwards, let go of the buckle, and snapped the belt forward. The yakuza was not expecting that, and the buckle caught him between his eyes. He went down, landing hard, and lay there, shaking his head. One of Yang's opponents left her and headed for Blake. He stayed out of buckle range, and the two circled, looking for an opening.

Yang had been in a few bar brawls in her young life, but this was one man who was not a drunk fighter pilot or just a bar brawler: he knew what he was doing. Yang's reflexes were good enough to dodge a few punches or block them, but she spent her entire time on the defensive. Her opponent was giving her no chance, and Yang knew he would eventually get through. She had just thought that when he did. One punch got past a hasty block and caught her on the cheek, hard enough that Yang staggered, slipped, and fell against the wall. With a triumphant smile, the yakuza stepped forward and seized a handful of blonde hair, drawing back his fist to hit her even harder. Yang bared her teeth and rammed her metal hand into the pit of the arm holding her hair. He bellowed in pain and let go, bending over slightly, and Yang kicked him in the shin. He bent over even further, and Yang punched downwards, once more with the metal hand. The yakuza went down and stirred weakly, blood pooling where the steel knuckles had sliced open his forehead.

Yang looked around. Weiss and her opponent were tentatively fencing in short, professional jabs; both were not quite thrusting home with their blades, neither wanting to be the first to escalate the fight to killing, while Blake and her yakuza were attacking and dodging—her with Yang's belt and buckle, he with hands and feet. She heard something terrible in Japanese, and saw that Jingu had finally managed to pry off Ruby with main force—but then she was on him again, screaming as she windmilled her fists. Yang grinned. Ol' Jingu probably feels like he's fighting a tornado—ah, shit. She turned and saw five more yakuza running up the stairs towards her. "I like those odds!" she laughed, with more bravado than she felt, and squared up to her opponents. The good news was that the corridor between tables was narrow enough that only two could come after her at once, and that they didn't seem to be out to kill either—yet.

Yang's heart sank as the first yazuka to head for her was considerably bigger than she was—six foot six if he was an inch, and probably 250 pounds of muscle. He advanced on her, and Yang readied herself—but then felt a draft. She glanced down, her eyes widened, and she held up a hand. "Wait! Hold up!" To her surprise, the yakuza actually stopped, and his eyes were big as well. "Give me a sec." Yang reached down and pulled her pants up: they had fallen down enough to show her underwear. She made sure they were more secure as the yakuza took off his tie and jacket, patiently waiting. "Okay, thanks. Shall we boogie?" He nodded and resumed his advance.

Before they could begin, there was a yelp and a scream behind them. Blake's opponent had finally overextended himself, and Blake hit him in the mouth with the buckle. As the man crumpled, she swung the belt against the side of his head, then drove her boot into his groin. That fight was over, so Blake hurried over to take up position next to Yang, belt in hand. Her lip was bleeding, from where a punch had gotten through. The two women glanced at each other and smiled. They were probably about to get their rear ends kicked, but at least they were fighting alongside each other.

Jingu once more managed to get Ruby off of him, and put a hand to his ear; his hand came away bloody. She faced him with a bloody grin. "Now for ya balls," she slurred. Before she could advance, Jingu reached behind him and pulled out a tanto as well from a belt sheath. "Not before I cut you open, you little bitch!"

"Enough!" The voice cut through the fight, and all of them stopped instinctively. They then raised their hands as four men in business suits came up the steps, pistols raised. Behind them were Dennis and Raven. Everyone dropped their weapons. "Which one of you is the wakashu?" Dennis demanded.

Jingu raised his voice. "I am!"

"He's also the asshole who started it!" Yang yelled. "He wouldn't take no for an answer!"

"Fine." Dennis pushed past Yang, Blake and Ruby. "Your name?" Jingu gave it to him. "You are out of your territory. You are allowed here as a courtesy, Jingu."

"She started it!" He pointed towards Ruby, then winced. He was a junior leader of the gang, and a short, drunk, female fighter pilot had goaded him into a brawl—one that he and his companions were actually losing before reinforcements arrived.

Dennis laughed. "A drunken five foot girl started a fight with ten yakuza?"

"Imma five four!" Ruby snapped.

"It doesn't matter." Dennis pointed to them. "They are under the protection of the family now, Jingu. The Mafia. We have a new boss—her."

Raven waved with a sweet, artificial smile. "Hiii!"

Jingu looked from Dennis to Raven and back. "But…but she's—what about Glass?"

"Change in management. Inform your oyabun. Now." He raised his voice again. "All yakuza. Leave now. We don't want to start anything that all of us will regret."

Reluctantly, Jingu picked up the tanto and replaced it in its sheath. "Let's go." Some of the yakuza helped up the ones Yang and Blake had managed to knock down. As the yakuza she had been facing sheathed his blade, Weiss fell back into the rest position of a fencer, then bowed. "You are a skilled opponent." The yakuza hesitated, smiled, then bowed back. Jingu led them out, his ear still dripping blood, and gave Ruby a look that promised that it wasn't over. Ruby just gave him the finger and stuck her tongue out. She then staggered over to the table and drained her last White Russian.

Yang massaged her cheek. "Well, that was fun. What's next, ladies?"

"What's next is we go back to the suite and find some ice." Blake tentatively touched her split lip.

They reached the suite without further incident, though Ruby's eyelids were drooping by the time they got off the elevator. "I don' feel so good…" She staggered towards the bathroom and shut the door behind her. All of them waited in the foyer of the suite, and sure enough, they heard the sounds of vomiting. "Rubes is such a lightweight," Yang sighed.

"Not like her mother. Summer could put it away," Raven observed.

"She had four White Russians," Weiss told her.

Raven paused. "Okay, so she is like Summer. Sum usually didn't puke until the next morning, though."

"Well, I better go check on her," Yang said, and began to head for the bathroom.

"I'll do it," Weiss said, stopping her. "You two find some ice."

Raven watched as Yang and Blake went to the bar and put some ice in towels to treat their wounds. "You kids be okay on your own?"

"Yeah," Yang said. "Everything okay with the Mafiosos?"

"It went pretty well," Raven replied. "Apparently Glass made himself no friends around here, so the locals aren't all that sad to be working for me now. Still have to hear from the bosses back in the old country, but so far, so good." She stretched. "Matter of fact, I think I'll hit the baccarat table."

"Is that safe?" Blake asked.

"Gunning down people at the high rollers' table is frowned on in Vegas," Raven said. "Bad for business. Besides, I just gave everyone a ten percent raise, across the board. You saw how fast those bad boys were to defend you four. Their salary depended on it." She cackled. "I'm moving up in the world. See you later." The leader of the Branwen Tribe—and now the leader of Las Vegas' Mafia—spun on a booted heel and left.

"Shit," Yang wondered. "It almost feels like she planned this whole thing." She bent down to look for more ice. "Well, well."

"What?" Blake flinched as she dabbed at her lip.

Yang pulled out two bottles of Johnny Walker. "Nobody said the party had to be over, Blake."

Blake snickered. "Yeah, why not."

Weiss went into the bathroom and let out a long, exasperated sigh. "Ruby…oh, Ruby, why?"

"Imma sorry, Weish." Ruby lay on the floor, sprawled outwards. She had somehow managed to throw up almost entirely on herself. The problem was, she was covered in it. The smell was enough that Weiss had to fight down a gag, but it was also not a new situation. "Well…at least you're not my mother," Weiss said. "C'mon, Ruby, let's get you cleaned up."

"Iss okay…" Ruby mumbled. "I can do it…"

"No, you can't." With some effort, Weiss helped Ruby to sit on the side of the heroic tub. She reached past her friend and turned on the shower. Ruby was clearly on the edge of passing out, so Weiss clicked her tongue and began undressing Ruby herself; she thought about asking Yang and Blake for help, but Ruby had been embarrassed enough tonight. Somehow, she got her flight leader's clothes off and put her in the shower. In the process, Weiss' own clothes now had vomit on them, so Weiss stripped as well and got in the shower with Ruby to get both of them clean.

"Hey, Weish?" Ruby asked.

"Yes, Ruby," Weiss replied in exasperation.

"Why're you nakey?" She looked down. "Oh yeah. Imma nakey too." She smiled lazily up at Weiss. "Don' think I swing that way."

"Oh, get your mind out of the gutter for five minutes." Weiss sprayed Ruby down with the shower. "You Xiao Longs, or Roses or Branwens or whatever…hot-blooded, the lot of you." Then Weiss thought of the absurdity of it all, and had to laugh. "You're something else, Ruby Rose."

"Yeah…you too, Weish." Suddenly, with that odd sort of balance that drunk people can get, Ruby stood up, turned, and hugged Weiss tightly. "I love you, Weish. Yer my bestest friend ever. I'm glad I met ya. Yer…yer good people. Thank ya." She rested her head on Weiss' shoulder. "Yer…yer like my other sister. You an' Blek both. M'family."

If Blake or Yang walk in right now, Weiss thought, I am going to go find that yakuza I fought and ask if he can help me commit ritual suicide. They didn't, and Ruby let go and sat back down, facing away from Weiss—which the latter was thankful for, since that would have left Ruby level with her crotch. Weiss decided that if something was worth doing, it was worth doing well, so she grabbed the shampoo and washed Ruby's hair, which was matted with sweat and blood—luckily none of it Ruby's. Other than some bruises, she had suffered no wounds in the fight. "Okay, we're done," Weiss said, deciding that her own hair would have to wait—she would have to undo the braid, and she had far more hair to wash than Ruby. "Let's get you to bed now, big drinker." There was no response. "Ruby?" Weiss looked down. Ruby's head was resting against Weiss' unscarred knee, and she was sound asleep, a smile on her lips. "Ruby, wake up." There was no response, though Weiss could tell by the steady rise and fall of Ruby's chest that at least her friend was still breathing. "Oh, hell."

Weiss tried to pick her up, but Ruby was dead weight. There was nothing for it, so Weiss gently laid Ruby down in the bathtub, shut off the shower, and got out. She toweled herself off, put her underwear back on, and tied another towel around herself. Then she stuck her head out the door. "Yang? Blake? Ruby's passed out. Can you help me get her to bed?" She thought about covering Ruby, but dismissed it; it wasn't like their nude bodies were any secret anymore.

Yang and Blake left off the scotch and went to help. They stopped at the threshold of the bathroom. "Oh, man. Rubes really tied one on."

Blake stepped back, about to have a flashback to the previous afternoon and Riana. "Why is everyone barfing around me?"

Yang shoved Ruby's ruined clothes into a corner, promising aloud to burn them later, then helped Weiss dry her off and get a soundly snoring little sister out of the tub. Yang picked up Ruby as if the other was still a little girl, and carried her to her bedroom, making sure that Ruby was lying on her side in case she threw up again during the night. "Yang…" Ruby mumbled, barely awake.

"Yeah, sis?"

"Imma sorry…sorry 'bout yelling at you…back in Check…Czesch…you know. An' maybe not being so good a sis as you are, okay? Yer a good sis."

Yang bent over and kissed Ruby on the cheek. "I try, Rubes. Sometimes I don't do so good either. But you're my little sister, and I love the shit out of you." Ruby chuckled and subsided back to sleep. Yang gently drew the covers up over Ruby's nude form, shut off the lights, and left the room.

Weiss came out of her own room, with fresh clothes on—the only one of Ruby Flight to bring more than one pair of casual clothes. "You want to join us?" Blake offered.

"No…I think I'll actually go join Raven at the baccarat table. I haven't played since flight school. No offense, but I think I've been around enough drinking tonight."

"None taken," Blake replied. "Have fun." Weiss waved and left the room.

Yang rejoined Blake at the bar. They poured another shot and clinked the glasses together, then tossed back the scotch. "I don't think I want to get quite as plastered as Ruby," Yang warned.

"No…not quite that much," Blake agreed. "Just enough to get a good buzz on, I think." She refilled the shot glasses. "Skoal!"

"Kampai!" Yang cheered, and they drank again.

AUTHOR'S OTHER NOTES: And that's as close to White Rose as I'll ever get. Drunk Ruby is funny Ruby...I hope. I got some good laughs out of writing this, so I hope you got some out of reading it. All the bands mentioned in this chapter are real (even ATB, which is the singer's initials, not the Advanced Tactical Bomber).

What's next? When everyone sobers up and gets over their hangover (hopefully, no tigers or tiger Faunuses end up in the bathroom), it's time to get serious again, and do a little undercover work.