#and he was in a few accidents (he sheared off both his outer ankle bones which is... yikes) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ijustwanttowritefanfic · 6 years

Text

Work in Progress

I came across a prompt a few days ago about Yang being a bartender and Neo being an assassin. I liked it, so I started my own. Here is the first part. Tomorrow, I’ll read it over and do some editing. And maybe come up with a better opening.

Story under the cut

Yang closed up shop. Set glasses to dry through the day, restocked the low bottles, wheeled in a keg of ale that sold out. The drawer was counted, the safe balanced, tips stuffed into the pocket of her coat. Tuesday night, barely even a hundred lin. It would be enough for her to buy her pain pills for the next week. A half empty bottle of gin from the well joined the money in her pocket. Junior would take it out of her paycheck, but she needed something to help her sleep tonight.

Her right arm pulsed in agony at the thought of the painkillers. The cheap prosthetic functioned, but barely. Yang pulled the leather glove over the offending hand, her jacket covering up the metal framework of her forearm and elbow. She grabbed her cane and locked up the bar.

A cold breeze cut through the thick leather of her coat, making Yang debate a warm meal or a warm taxi to carry her home. Her hip ached, a counterpoint to the pain in her arm. She gritted her teeth as comfort now battled comfort later.

“No, Yang, it’s just a little cold, the walk isn’t that far,” she muttered. Barely twenty minutes, and she had one last dose of painkillers waiting at home. Combined with the gin, she knew sleep would find her.

The crash from the alley startled Yang, the tip of her cane pointed at the sound. The wet impact of flesh on flesh froze Yang in her spot.

Another impact, this one mixed with the sound of bone on bone, drew Yang into the alley.

“Come on, bitch, say something.” A slap echoed from behind a dumpster. “What, you murder my boss, half my gang, and you have nothing to say for yourself? At least give me a scream.” The spine shivering sound of a knife being removed from its stealth pulled Yang closer.

A man with dirty red hair and a maroon jacket pinned someone against the wall of her bar. His back blocked out who it was, although Yang saw a pair of boots dangling between his legs, black leather with thick soles. Something thick and viscous dripped off the tip of one of them.

The man raised his arm over his head, a knife clutched in it.

The cane smacked the back of his knees. He fell back.

The cane hit the arm holding the knife. Bone crunched under the solid wood.

The knife slid into the darkness.

The cane hit shoulder, chest, neck, head.

Crunch, crunch, crunch, snap. The bottom half of the cane followed the knife, the top half pulling Yang down. She sprawled over the top of the man. He wheezed in pain, trying to lift his arm. Yang scrambled off him. She bumped into the man’s victim.

The lady with the black leather boots hissed in pain, her hand grabbing Yang’s whole arm. Her face was swollen, blood streaked across it. Pink and brown hair matted with the blood that covered her face. She wore what had been once been a white trench coat, now more of a mud and blood colored coat, tears along the sleeves and torso hinting at were the blood came from. Her head rolled back, her eyes unfocused.

Yang stared at those eyes, one pink, one brown. She knew them, one of her regulars had similar eyes. The lady who always drank a pint of bitters, tipped well. Now she bleed all over a back alley, all over Yang. She needed help.

Yang wrapped her whole arm around the lady’s shoulder, using her other to push her up. It gave tortured squeak as Yang put most of her weight on it. She ignored it, she had to help.

Standing, Yang held the lady on her feet, but the lady teetered on unsteady feet. No way would this lady be able to walk. She barely came up to Yang’s chest, and Yang had seen thicker toothpicks. Bending down, she swung her false arm under her legs, carrying her like a sleepy child.

Yang turned to walk out of the alley when a hand grabbed her ankle. The man pulled himself closer to both of them, his other hand raising up.

He had the knife back, he would finish her off. She spun, stomping her bad leg down onto his skull.

Crack.

His empty hand fell back to the ground. Blood pooled out of his temple, his eyes stared at nothing.

Yang limped out of the alley. The lady shivered in Yang’s arms, curling up against her.

“Fuck, where is the nearest hospital?” Yang cast her head around, looking for a taxi, or the hospital. Something shook against her breasts, and the lady in her arms shook her head.

“What? I shouldn’t take you to the hospital?”

Her head kept shaking back and forth.

“Where else can I take you? I mean, I have a first aid kit at home…” The lady nodded her head at that. “Fuck, fine. I’m taking a taxi, though.”

A fistful of lin thrust its was up from Yang’s embrace. “Oh, well that’ll help.” She took it, and the arm hung back down limpy.

A taxi turned the corner a few minutes later, and Yang flagged it down.

Opening the door, the taxi driver turned around, eyeing the lady in Yang’s arms. “Hey, everything okay?”

Yang put on her most innocent smile, which looked only slightly guilty. “Yeah, my friend just had too much to drink.”

The driver looked like she didn’t believe her. “Listen, girl, I-”

“Here, take us home, and it’s all yours,” Yang said as she thrusted the roll of lin at the driver. She plucked it from Yang’s hand and turned around.

“You got it, where to?”

Yang rattled off her address before settling into the back. They all drove in silence. The lady in Yang’s arms felt limp, and Yang worried she might be dead. Her whole arm against the lady’s ribs felt the shallow breaths.

The taxi driver dropped them off in front of the brownstone building Yang called home, speeding away as soon as the door closed. Yang felt the same way.

Careful juggling allowed her to pull her keys out of her pocket and let them in. The elevator took them to the fourth floor.

Inside her apartment, she laid the lady down on a threadbare couch and limped over to her bathroom. The first aid kit, a robust one from another lifetime, sat dust covered under the sink. Her medicine cabinet held the bottle of aspirin and a translucent orange bottle with one large horse pill. Her bad arm ached, her good arm arched, her bad leg screamed, and that one pill was all she needed to silence them all. It would fog her brain and dull the rest of her body. Maybe after she took care of the lady on her couch.

Stopping in the kitchen area, Yang filled a bowl with water and grabbed a few towels. She lugged the large kit out to the sectioned off area she called a living room, Yang sat in front of the unconscious lady. Under the jacket, she looked even smaller than before. Numerous cut covered her torso, arms and a nasty gash on the outside of her thigh bled onto the ugly couch.

The first aid kit opened eagerly under Yang’s thumbs. First things first, clearing the area around the wounds. Removing the coat winded Yang, and under it, the lady’s clothes were shredded. The shears in the kit made quick work of her top and most of her pants. Removing the boots turned out to be easy, even if they had too many buckles and zippers.

The lady’s body was patterned with a number of old and new scars. Yang also noticed that the lady was ripped. It reminded her of the gladiators she knew from her youth. The muscles lacked definition, but damn, she had them packed on.

Her hand traced over the lady’s bicep and Yang sat in awe. Gashes covered her forearms, made colorful from the bruising as well.

Thin, surgical like scars made a half circle over her throat. Using the water, she cleaned off her neck, but it was just bloody, not injured. Her face had a nasty laceration over her left eye. It would need stitches. Her torso was colored black and blue, although Yang felt nothing deformed. A nasty gash started under her left breast and curved around her side.

The muscles in her legs felt better than the ones in her arm, and Yang’s totally professional touching found no broken bones. Her outer right thigh had been sliced open, and it bleed pretty badly still.

It took a few trips back and forth to the kitchen area to clean off all the blood. The next trip to the laundromat was going to suck. That or living with pink towels. Bloody pink towels. On one hand, it was very metal, on the other, ew.

The iodine in the kit was still good, for another month. Yang eyed the gin bottle on the floor next to her, but its alcohol content was too low to be of much use for cleaning wounds. Holding the needle in her mouth as she used her good hand to thread the it. Her hand shook. Yang hadn’t sewn anyone up since her accident, and before that, she had always used right hand. The replacement hung at her side, useless. The wounds bled still, and Yang knew she needed to close them.

A swig from the gin bottle steadied her. She could do this, this was just like training, just like all those times out in the wilderness. A few stitches, and it would all be over.

Her hand steady, Yang closed up the wound on her thigh, than over her eye, the gashes along her arms, the one across her back. Old instincts kicked in, and each wound closed faster than the one before it.

The sun peeked through the browned curtains by the time Yang finished. The gin bottle laid on it side, empty, and Yang envied it.

Standing on protesting legs, she walked once more into the bathroom and cleaned her hands. Her shirt and pants were ruined, and she stripped out of them. The shower called to her, but Yang felt the siren song of sleep more.

Passing the couch, Yang paused. The ugly piece of shit was ruined. No one should be sitting on it, let alone sleeping on it. But Yang only had one bed.

Well, her guest took up less space than anyone else Yang had slept with. Picking her up, Yang limped over to her bed. She laid the lady down gently before removing her false arm and crawling in. The lady rolled into Yang, curling up against her side. Making sure the blanket covered her guest, Yang laid her head down.

For once, sleep came easy.

#rwby #yang xiao long #neopolitan #neopolitian (rwby)#baked alaska #violence #wip #feedback wanted #writeblr

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