Who: Revy and Leon What: An ex-con and a cop walking into a bar. Where: Some pub. When: July 3rd Ratings/Warnings: Violence, gunshots, a LOT of profanity Status: Complete
Leon hadn’t been on a date since Bethany had dumped him with ‘I’d rather date a third-class businessman than a third-rate detective.’ He wasn’t entirely sure if this was a date, but from the images on the net this Revy chick was hot, and she liked steaks, smoking, and beer. Not normally the kind of supermodel-like girls that Leon normally went on dates with, but that obviously hadn’t been working out well for him anyway.
On the off chance that it was a date, Leon had made sure to give Stella a good washing, had pulled his hair back, and dressed in a pair of blue jeans and one of his few t-shirts that didn’t have a bizarre image on it. The pub itself was nothing fancy. It wasn’t a dive, per se, but it was a place Leon could afford to go to often on a cops budget, and the food and drinks were pretty good.
Leon already knew what he was getting, so he didn’t bother looking at the menu. “This steak really is the best around without paying an arm and leg for it.”
Hah. No. Revy was far as fuck from the supermodel type. Sure, her physique was well enough - lean, fit (prison is one hell of a place to get in shape in), thunder thighs and a well-endowed rack - but etched in tan skin were old scars, gashes and pale bullet holes. Ink too, with her right arm covered in some tribal pattern that curved over her shoulder, all the way up the side of her neck. Daisy Dukes, cowgirl boots (odd combination for a yank, but she liked the style) and a tank top that didn’t leave all that much to the imagination, but who cared. Not like she was fishing for dick. Look all you want, assholes, but you can’t touch.
But crap, she was craving a goddamn cigarette.
“Place is nicer than I thought,” she mumbled, a natural raspiness to her words - a mix from too much chain smoking and too much yelling. Those vocals would never recover. “I’ll take your fucking word for it, pal. Gonna be real disappointed if I end up spitting it at your face.” Rum on the rocks was in her glass, the drink of pirates, and she nursed it with a hell of a thirst.
Leon snorted. He’d hung out with a lot of women, a lot of them on the police force, and none of them had been quite so vulgar as this one. He tried to think of what D’s reaction to this girl would be, and he couldn’t help but break out into a grin because shit, that was a funny thought.
“So what you’re saying is that if you don’t spit in my face, and I leave with my balls still attached, I can consider tonight a success?”
Leon normally ordered beer when he was out for drinks with people, but he wasn’t about to be outdone, so he had ordered himself a whiskey. It was his drink of choice when he wanted to get drunk, and since Sharon had Chris tonight, he might as well. He had the sneaking suspicion that Revy really wouldn’t be too offended if he got half-cut.
Honey brown eyes tightened into a leer. “Yeah, actually. All those fucking requirements are met, I’d take a drink with you again, pal.” And a steak, because Revy fucking loved red meat. Nothing on it, not even that bullshit A1 steak sauce or whatever the hell people poured onto their shit, making it a damn disaster.
Revy didn’t really have friends, not really. People she tolerated, sure, but her people skills needed to be tweaked after those six years behind iron bars. Going from daily violence to daily porn was a huge fucking adjustment, the calmness didn’t feel right. It made her anxious and restless, and the drink helped keep those frazzled nerves of uncertainty in check.
Leaning against her seat, she plopped her elbow atop of it and took a survey around the shindig before she settled back onto the blonde piece of masculine ass across from her. “You told me you’d fill me in. Do me a favor and enlighten me. Shit can’t get any worst than a fucking spider playing kaiju, right?”
“The spider I think was probably the worst I know about,” Leon said. Because that, along with the dreams, was something Leon just couldn’t explain away. The murder spree was obviously just a cult of normal people draining blood and occasionally ripping out hearts and stealing bodies from the morgue (which was weird), but that spider, was, well, a giant fucking spider that crawled out of the ocean and destroyed a lot of shit. “But there’s these dreams. They feel really real and sometimes you’ll get injuries or shit from them. Mine are kind of fucked up, but I’ve read about some pretty terrible ones on the Network.”
A slow raise of a slender brow was the reaction to the amount of shit that just babbled from his mouth. And he said it with such a straight face, she’d almost spit steak at him one principle for all that. Except that the concept of a fucking spider the size of a city ruining fucking everything was more ludicrous than Freddy Kreuger dreams, but not by much.
“Nightmare on fucking Elm Street shit?” Maybe she wouldn’t call him a delirious fuckwad. Maybe she’d buy into that nonsense, whatever. “If that’s the case then why the fuck do you even stick around these parts? Get the fuck out, if it’s so bad.”
Man, she knew this place was shit. Sure, the marijuana laws here were more lax but what the hell?
The waitress grabbed their orders - hers being a rare wad of red meat, gloriously plain, with a baked potato loaded with just about everything they had. And another glass of rum, keep ‘em coming McTits, Revy was going to need it.
Leon ordered his own steak, blue rare also with a baked potato because who the fuck ate steak with soup.
“I know it sounds fucking insane,” Leon said. “I was actually pretty sure for the longest time that the network was just this place where all these fucking crazy people hung out and talked about their dreams like they were fucking sixteen year old girls. And then I got shot. In my dreams, I mean, but I still had the bullet holes when I woke up. And woke up with a cactus sitting on my windowsill.” Leon still didn’t really get it. It shouldn’t be possible, and he knew it. It was still weird to think that there was an alternate version of him that had tea and cake nearly every day with a murderer.
“From gunshot wounds to cactus,” she chuckled huskily, legs and arms crossed to comfortably lean back. Man, was this fucker drugged? A second look at his pupils told her nah, he wasn’t high as a kite. Just apparently really serious about some crazy ass bullshit and why the hell did she get stuck here, again?
Oh, yeah. Chang playing the role of guardian. Motherfucker, just let her get back into the fucking game.
“The fucked up part is that I think I actually believe you.” Jesus H. Christ, just give her the bottle of Bacardi, stat.
Leon couldn't help but laugh a little at that. "It is a little hard to swallow," he said. "But at least it won't catch you off guard if happens to you." Given all the warning Leon had, he really should not have been caught so off guard, but at least she seemed to believe him. "Hopefully you won't dream of fucking carnivorous, asexual bunnies." He still couldn't look at a rabbit without feeling suspicious.
"As for why I stick around, it's home, so I'll deal with the shit that comes with it. If shit starts getting weird, think you'll stick around?"
Their food hadn’t taken long to arrive. They chose barely cooked meats, what else was there to expect? And they were beauties, light liquid pink seeping onto the plate. Potato fluffed up and righteously stuffed with all things typically bad for her cholesterol, overflowing with cheddar and bacon, butter and sour cream melted inside. Mmf. A new glass of amber liquid came to Revy’s side, and considering the nature of this conversation she’d been damn glad she didn’t stick with the usual Heineken.
“If I do dream about meat-eating rabbits, I’m coming after your sorry ass,” Revy declared, a laugh huffed, grabbing the steak knife and fork to slice and dice into her ribeye. “But I’ve already seen a fucking spider step on a Best Buy and trek along like it owned the goddamn place, so shit’s been weird. Could almost be a little fun.” Both brows waggled at him, right before taking a bite.
“I’m not sure if ‘fun’ is the word I’d use for it,” because it was weird. Needing to admit to himself that maybe there was some unexplainable, weird, supernatural stuff going on wasn’t as easy as he made it seem (which was saying something, because he didn’t make it seem easy at all), but he was starting to adjust a little bit to the new way of life. “Good on you for sticking it out despite the giant spiders though. I’d think a little less of you if you turned tail.” He waited until she took a bite before cutting into his own steak. “What do you think?” he asked once she had swallowed. It would be a little embarrassing if she hated it after he had talked it up so much.
Revy’s definition of ‘fun’ was skewed. It involved an unnecessary amount of gunfire, a bigger bottle of rum and blood to paint the concrete. Now it involved weird shit, so whatever kept life interesting. Better than countless hours of editing a video of some spray-tanned bimbo taking it up the ass and mouth simultaneously anyway. Shit got old quick.
“It passes,” she smirked after the swallow, though she was pretty much just giving him crap on principle. “Can’t beat the fucking price, so like hell I’m complaining. Place has the right amount of sleaze to make me come back anyway.” Most other shindigs made her feel out of place. Clean, hoity-toity, not what she was used to - though to be fair she was still used to the sterling accomodations of a woman’s prison. Which meant that if your bunk had bed bugs and only two dead roaches, you were having a good day.
By the bar, a couple men got rowdy. Raised voices, cussing, enough to glean attention from others in the restaurant. Hesitant side-eying, whispers and whatnot, and some shoving began taking place among the macho men that needed to prove the size of their penis like a burning.
Her brow rose. “Guess we got free entertainment going on. Fuckin’ A.”
Leon grinned and popped his own steak into his mouth. "Passes is good enough for me," he said with his mouth full, ever the perfect gentleman. "It's no filet mignon, but it's bloody and it tastes like food."
When the two men started getting rowdy, Leon rolled his eyes and knocked back the rest of his whiskey. "You've got to be fucking kidding me," he said. Maybe it would settle itself out and he wouldn't have attempt to keep the peace. He might be off duty, but Leon was still a cop at heart.
And then the first punch was thrown, nearly knocking one of the men into the waitress. "Oh, for fuck's sake," he groaned, rather quickly getting up and heading toward the two drunks.
Well, well. Just what the shit was this dude doing? Play peace-keeper? “Awww, c’mon, let ‘em sort it out,” she hollered after him, but with his insistence it clearly fell on deaf ears. A gulp of her rum to wash the steak n’ potatoes down, and she turned in her chair to see what the hell he was planning to do.
A couple more shoves, some glasses fell to the ground and shattered. Some patrons were cheering. Others did the smart thing and avoided that circle of violence that was beginning to escalate, and Revy caught a glimpse of something under someone’s jacket - the handle of a gun, the clear curve of a trigger. Bingo.
Hands on each side of her mouth, Revy yelled: “GUN FIGHT!”
Someone was going to get hurt at this rate if he let them 'sort it out for themselves,' and it didn't necessarily mean it was going to he one of the the two men in the fight. "Gentlemen," he started once he got close to them, using his authoritative voice. "What seems to be the problem-" here he had been about to say, and suddenly some chick was yelling about a gun fight. It took him a moment to realize it was Revy yelling, and he shot her a bewildered 'what the fuck' look. From the corner of his eye saw one of the men reaching into his jacket. He started to reach for the gun he almost always carried on him before remembering he was supposed to be on a fucking date and he obviously didn't bring one.
He was close enough to the man who he noticed about to draw his weapon that he could grab onto his wrist as his hand came out of his jacket, and took advantage of the man's surprise to maneuver his arm so the gun was pointing at the floor. "Drop your fucking weapons, or I swear to God I will arrest every one of you." The chief really hated it when Leon made off-duty arrests, but he'd probably be more forgiving of Leon arresting a couple of fucking clowns who'd draw their weapons in a bar filled with civilians than he was over the pickpocket he brought in last month.
Revy’s exclamation had caused a panic and a sudden customer departure, those exit doors flooding with people trying to leave. She’d done those dipshits a favor, mind you - otherwise things would get messier and they’d be used as meatshields. Not that she ever cared for civilians casualties but fuck ‘em, she could have her moments every now and then.
It left the place bare. Fallen plates, fallen food - Revy made sure to take another bite out of her steak before slipping a hand into her boot and pull out something hidden and strapped. Not the best place to keep a weapon (it was actually pretty fucking uncomfortable, but where else was she going to stick a pistol, between her tits?), but it worked. It was small, compact, but a gun was a gun. If it shot, it worked.
“Of course you’re a fucking cop,” she let out a gravelly grumble. Explained his insistence on reinforcing peace in a public place. Revy wanted to see the fuckwads go at it, honestly - settle the score, shoot it up, make it a fucking warzone. But her priorities were a tad twisted.
The man Leon manhandled was frozen where he was, trembling with anger yet there was clear hesitance at the presence of a cop and maybe, just maybe, he’d play it smart. But the others dudes weren’t defenseless either and they’d been armed. “Where’s your badge, asshole?!”
That particular fuckbag reached for a gun, and that’s when Revy calmly shot him in the wrist. A bang resonated loudly with the walls. His screech of pain was surprisingly shrill for someone who looked like they’d done a couple rounds in the mob and dropped the firearm.
“Next time it’s your nuts, shithead.”
At the sound of gunfire, Leon immediately twisted the guy who’s arm he had behind his back, and plucked the gun from his hands. He kicked the man’s knees out so he was on the floor, and then swung around, pointing his newfound gun at the perps. Upon noticing the guy who was clutching his wrist, he turned toward Revy. “You can’t just fucking shoot people,” Leon snapped, even if he was a little relieved that someone else didn’t have a gun pointed at the back of his head. “Who the fuck brings a gun on a date anyway?”
Keeping an eye on the men in front of him, with his free hand he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, flipping it over. “Irvine PD. Put down your fucking weapons. We really wouldn’t want to stop any of you other assholes from jerking off.” Well, he wouldn’t. He wasn’t so sure about Revy anymore.
“Hey! I just saved your fucking ass!” Revy shouted with a snarl, amber eyes tightening into something fierce. “And who the fuck said this was a date - I just met you on the internet, but next time you’re up shit creek with someone about to gun you down then good luck being hospitalized! Or dead, whichever the hell you prefer.”
Really, a ‘thank you for making sure I didn’t get hurt’ woulda been nice but that’s asking too much from a self-righteous asshat with a badge. She didn’t know which ones were worse; the ones that thought they could save the world or the ones that stuck their dick insides things against someone’s consent and hid behind their good guy facade. Pssht.
One man bleeding, the other on the floor disarmed, and the rest opted to hold their arms up. A third one in particular looked between them, a bit confused. “I know you,” he squinted at Revy, who still had her gun pointed after conveniently ignoring the bark of Leon’s orders. “The tattoo - they warned us about you being here. Didn’t you just get out of prison? The fuck are you doing with a cop?”
A shrug. “Beats the fuck out of me. I just met the dude.”
"I wouldn't have needed to be saved if someone hadn't encouraged these fucking dumb shits," (that elicited a mildly offended "Hey!" from one of the men, though Leon paid him no mind, "to have a fucking fire fight in the middle of my favourite bar. I was gonna buy you dinner, that seems like a date to me."
Their hands were up, though Leon didn't quite lower his weapon yet. He gave a brief look at the man who was speaking to Revy, and then shot her a surprised look. "You just got out of prison? The fuck?" He may have still been watching the men from the corner of his eye so they didn't try to do anything stupid, but other than that the men were all but forgotten.
“They were going to pull their guns out in a crowded room anyway, dumbass! At least this place is empty and you’re not cleaning up civilian corpses, you’re fucking welcome.” Temper sparked, the end of her gun was now directed to Leon himself, all with a scowl and a look that could kill. “And what? You want me to thank you for seeing a pair of tits and ass and thinking a paid meal equates to a date? Oh, please. Don’t get ahead of yourself. A girl just wants some goddamn bloody meat and a couple of nasty drinks. Try not let your ego inflate your cock. But you know, if it reaaaally makes your skin crawl, then guess what? You wanted to wine and dine and probably fuck an ex-con. Congratulations, whack off and cry to that one.”
The the troublemakers that had their hands up in surrender all looked at each other. They didn’t know whether to be scared or confused.
But confusion was a good start.
The second she started swinging her gun towards him, he turned and did the same. "You assclowns sit the fuck down," he snapped at the men, who, probably due to their bewilderment, promptly complied.
"Really? Not every fucking barroom brawl results in people pointing fucking guns at one another, you know." This woman was insufferable. "I thought you seemed fucking cool, and wanted to get to know you better. If I had known you were fucking insane I wouldn't have fucking bothered." He'd had a lot of really shitty dates (or unofficial dates, or whatever the fuck this was), but none of them had ever ended in him having a stand-off before. "The fuck is your deal? Put down the goddamn gun, Revy."
“Don’t kid yourself, dipshit,” Revy scoffed, much too stubborn to back down. She even cocked the gun. “If you had squirmed your way in and pissed them off even more, they woulda shot you. You’re a cop, aren’t you? It’s how these things end and how people like them - people like me - solve our problems. But I decided to play nice because I thought you’d be a swell buddy, got this place evacuated and stopped you from getting shot. So I’m fucking done. You’re not worth going back to the slammer.”
Weapon tucked away, it was time to whip out the good ol’ white-wrapped vice of a cigarette and lit herself a smoke. So fuck this place and it’s ‘non-smoking’ policy because she just exhaled a nice big cloud of nicotine. Oh, and say hello to her middle finger too. “Good. Fucking. Night.”
Leon's eyes narrowed when she cocked the gun, but he wasn't about to back down either. And then, before he knew it, she was putting the gun away, and once she had he lowered his own weapon. He was pretty sure he could arrest her for pointing a fucking gun at an officer, but - a quick glance to the poor sucker who was still clutching his wrist - she really has kind of helped him out. In an almost D like manner (just with a gun instead of a man eating ferret or something) no less. Not that he had any particularly fond feelings for D or for the crazy tattooed chick, but maybe for once he could let her walk.
"Good fucking night to you too," he muttered more to himself than her, but then called after her: "You'd better leave some money for that steak because I sure as shit aren't paying for you," And then he pulled out his phone to call in the fucking four dumbasses who had brandished their weapons. Maybe once some on duty officers showed up he'd be able to finish supper.