Chapter Text
It was hot.
That was a redundant statement; of course it was hot it was the desert. Finding out which which desert Yang was currently in was the real question since she had no idea herself. She figured she could be in Arizona, but by the smell wafting in along with the breeze she guessed she was somewhere in Nevada, possibly close to Vegas. Yang gave another deep inhale along with the next pitiful gust that whipped by. Yup, definitely near Vegas. She could practically smell the strippers and booze on the wind.
Yang stretched her arms high above her head and let out an enormous yawn, sinking back into her creaky lawn chair. Dust and sand kicked up around her feet and clung to the worn leather of her boots as she stretched her cramped up legs as well. Who know how many highways Yang had drifted through the night before. She just followed the road until the sun peeked over the horizon. Lazily scratching her neck, she checked the cracked watch on her wrist. Half past noon.
“Perfect time for a margarita.” Yang sighed contently, standing up and climbing the rickety steps into the beaten down RV she had been calling home for the last nine months. She had bought it off some bartender when she was spending time in Mexico. The inside was fairly worn and there was an ever present smell of spilled liquor; but the engine worked and it was a secluded place to sleep which was the only thing Yang cared about. The shaded inside was suffocatingly hot as Yang grabbed ice and tequila from her portable freezer. She dumped the two ingredients into a well worn blender and rushed to grab the others before the ice melted. Sweat dribbled down every part of her body and she became achingly aware of how dry her lips were as the frozen concoction was blended and mixed together. Figuring the drink was more or less done, Yang jabbed the off button. Instead of pouring the margarita into a cup, she stuck a straw into the pitcher and took it with her back outside into the oppressive heat.
Plopping back into her chair, Yang gave another content sigh and took a large sip of her drink. Perfectly balanced, if not a little chunky thanks to her impatience. Sweet enough for taste but with enough kick to burn the back of your throat just like any good cocktail should be.
Settling more comfortably into her chair, Yang punched on the extremely old portable radio that sat on the table next to her. It sputtered to life and began to play a staticky country tune from whatever radio station it had picked up. Yang snapped along to the bouncy song and steadily drained her drink, smacking her lips in satisfaction when it was finally gone. That was a damn fine margarita. Hell if she ever got bored of wandering the desert she could settle in a city and open a bar.
“Yang’s Famous Margaritas.” She said aloud to herself, holding a hand up towards the cloudless sky, “I wonder how I could fit a pun in there.”
The margaritas themselves wouldn’t even have to taste remotely good. Yang knew her fame would be the main selling point of any business endeavor she wanted to try. People would travel for miles not for the margaritas, but for a chance to be face to face with Yang Xiao Long, ex-lead guitarist for the world famous band RWBY. The thought made her wrinkle her nose in disgust.
Forget the margaritas.
She turned and cranked up the radio, leaning farther back into the chair which groaned dangerously. The lovely mixture of booze and a full stomach was making Yang incredibly drowsy as the mournful tune playing from the radio made her eyes heavy. Tipping her hat down over her eyes, she leaned back her head and drifted off.
The loud squeal of a guitar riff awoke Yang with a jerk. It was dark now and it took her a few bleary moments to process what she was hearing on the radio. She knew that tune, she knew it well and she wanted it to stop. Without hesitation, Yang slammed her fist onto the top of the radio, the brute force completely shattering the glass front. The song turned into crackling static and then fizzled into silence. Yang wiped the cold sweat from her forehead, breathing heavily while her heart boomed in her ears. Of all the songs, why did it have to be that one. The back of Yang’s throat began to burn, aching for a drink. Or anything that would stop her brain from dredging up old wounds. She jumped up from the lawn chair and hurried inside the RV, anxiously digging through her cabinets.
“Gotcha.” She grabbed the tequila bottle from earlier but let out a frustrated groan when she found it to be empty. In fact, all of the bottles were empty. Running a shaky hand through her hair, Yang looked through the grimy window of the RV. City lights illuminated the sky in the near distance, blotting out the stars. A city meant either a liquor store or a bar.
Yang jumped into the driver’s seat and twisted the keys into the ignition. The RV’s engine sputtered to life and began to roll over the small dunes of sand. As the city grew closer, Yang realized that she was right about being on the outskirts of Vegas which was like hitting the lottery for someone needing a drink. It also meant almost nobody would recognize her, and that was the only thing she cared about besides quenching her thirst. Not wanting to venture too far into the heart of the city, Yang parked the RV in the lot of a run down looking motel. She figured a shady establishment wouldn’t be too keen on getting cops involved over a parking space.
Yang grabbed a worn cowboy hat and bent it low on her head, tucking her hair up into the top. She stepped out of the RV, not bothering to lock the doors. There was nothing of value inside anyway. Taking a deep breath, Yang smiled slightly. Vegas still smelled like Vegas.
Avoiding the invasive neon signs all around her, Yang took the much dimmer path towards the less crowded part of the city. She hoped to find some hole in the wall pub that served strong drinks in questionably clean glasses. After walking about a mile, Yang spied exactly what she was looking for. The bar was simply called “Junior’s” and half of the lights in the sign were burned out.
“Perfect.” Yang said under her breath as she opened the front door. The bar was dimly lit and a thick haze of cigarette smoke hung in the air. There were a few scattered patrons hanging around at the bar and pool tables. None of them looked like they were in the mood for making friends. Yang took a seat at the bar away from the other customers who ignored her, more interested in the whiskey they sipped on.
“Drink?” The bartender asked gruffly, eyeing Yang like she had ruined his day by showing up.
“Whiskey. Make it a double.”
He turned and grabbed a glass from the top shelf and poured a hearty amount of liquor. Yang’s mouth watered as the bartender placed the glass in front of her, walking away before she could ask him to do anything else. She didn’t even care about the weird streaks on the cup, Yang lifted it to her lips and took a large sip. It burned from the tip of her tongue all the way down her throat until it settled warmly in her stomach. She lifted it again and drained the glass this time, slamming it down contently.
“You’ve clearly been through some shit.” The bartender had returned, looking at Yang like he was slightly impressed.
“And you must be Junior.” She replied, winking at him. Junior shrugged and refilled the glass to the brim.
“It’s on the house.”
“Cheers.” Yang laughed quietly to herself, draining the whiskey in three big gulps. She wiped her lips and leaned back in her chair, tapping the greasy top of the bar with her fingers to get another round. The pounding in her ears had finally stopped and the thought of that song playing on the radio no longer made her stomach twist up in knots. The only thing Yang was feeling now was the blissful numbness of a buzz.
Junior placed another full glass in front of her but this time she sipped it slowly, enjoying the bitter taste. He lingered for a moment, as if wanting to ask her something.
“Shoot.” Yang said, still casually enjoying her drink.
“I’ve seen you somewhere.” Junior said, rubbing his bearded chin thoughtfully, “You look like that chick from RWBY, remember them? You look like the blonde one.” Normally Yang would panic at a question like this, but the whiskey was too busy whisking all of her cares away.
“Nope. My boobs aren’t nearly as big as her’s. And that ass? Forget it.” Yang lied easily. Junior’s eyes darted down and back up again.
“Well you could be a hell of an impersonator.” He shrugged indifferently, “You definitely picked the right town for it.”
“Thanks but no thanks.” Yang said with a grimace, “I’ve done enough pretending for one lifetime.” She swirled the whiskey around in the glass, scowling down into her honey-colored reflection before lifting it back to her lips. No matter how much liquor she drank, the ache in her chest didn’t seem to fade. Looking around the hazy bar, Yang caught the eye of a stranger sitting at a table in the far corner. The person quickly broke eye contact and leaned to whisper in the ear of the person next to them. It gave Yang an uneasy feeling but she turned back towards Junior, angling her chair away from them.
“Y’know I actually saw RWBY live one time.” He said, wiping down a glass with a yellow-used-to-be-white rag.
“Oh yeah?” Yang said, trying to seem disinterested in the topic.
“Yeah, the bassist actually let me touch one of her kitty ears.” Junior said with an air of smugness, “Well, I reached out and touched it but I don’t think she noticed.”
Yang didn’t want to talk about this anymore. She wanted it to stop. The ache in her chest had turned into a scorching burn that even whiskey couldn’t douse. It was too much for one day; the song, the ears. Her whole head felt like it was about to explode.
“Looks like I’m not the only one who thinks you’re famous.” Junior said, dragging Yang from her panicked thoughts.
“H-Huh?” Yang glanced back over her shoulder towards the strangers at the table. Now they were both staring at her attentively. The pair was wearing what Yang could only assume to be poorly made wigs and some cheap sunglasses even though the bar was almost as dark as it was outside. A cold sweat broke out across her forehead as she weakly laughed at Junior’s joke.
“That happens to me wherever I go.” Yang said with a smile that probably looked more pained than she wanted. She quickly dug around in her pockets for her wallet.
“You’re leaving already?” Junior asked, seeming slightly disappointed. Yang looked back again and realized with an alarming jolt that the oddly dressed couple was rising from their seats.
“Yep, early morning tomorrow.” Yang said briskly, dropping a stack of bills on the countertop, “Keep the change I don’t need it.”
“Hold on I have to cash you out.” Junior said, turning to face the cash register against the wall. Yang cursed under her breath and tapped her fingers impatiently. The couple was getting closer now and Yang knew they were for sure coming to speak to her. This had been a mistake. A huge mistake. She should’ve just gone to a liquor store. Why didn’t she just go to a liquor store? Yang looked around wildly before making a mad dash to the exit.
“Hey stop!” A voice called behind her but she kept running. People stared and a group of drunks cheered as she ran down the streets. The alcohol was definitely making her way more sluggish and clumsy which caused Yang to take a nasty fall, shredding the skin of her hands and knees. With a groan, she got up and kept running, definitely regretting that she parked so far away.
Finally Yang could see the flickering sign of her motel, if she could just hold out long enough-
“Yang Xiao Long stop right there!” A voice commanded. “We know who you are the jig is up!” Yang froze in her tracks, sweat dripping down her forehead and blood dribbling down her legs. She knew that bossy voice. But if she was there that meant-
Yang turned.
“Ruby? Weiss?”