Who: Revy & Midna (with Hawke bartending in the background) What: Revy owes a debt, and someone makes an attempt to collect When: Tonight Where: The Rear End Rating/Warnings: Language, a lot of language Status: Complete!
Chicken strips and tits. Basically the theme of this club, though Revy came for the chicken strips. Occasionally for a paycheck too, if they needed extra muscle by the door to haul out obliterated fucktards to the curb, but tonight - chicken strips. And recreation. Not so much the overpriced bullshit drinks (getting shit beer was eight bucs, how about no?) Beardo was slinging around. The battered-and-fried bird meat was pricey enough as it was; she’d settle for food and smokes for now. Until something drove her to the point of boozing.
“If I find beard in my fucking chicken, I’m killing your bartender,” she deadpanned, pinching at the pieces and testing the heat. Fresh out of the fryer and a little oily, still too hot to stick in her mouth. Coming here recreationally meant she stopped by to see Midna; it was the closest thing she ever had to ‘girl time’ (not that Revy ever had anything dramatic or juicy to gossip about). Being around another person pumped with estrogen was a nice break from the dicks n’ balls she hung with, and hell, the redhead probably did have shit to talk about considering her girlfriend’s face was all over the news.
And plastered on tabloid covers. Something about a crack addiction and a rumor of her blowing the lawyer that handled the case.
Hawke’s beard was pretty famous around these parts (like, his actual beard and not his hired significant other solely for the purpose of hiding his gayness), but he was good about grooming it. And good at slinging drinks in general - sure, they were overpriced, but as long as people kept paying, Midna was going to keep sellin.’ The club was doing well under her management, and she made the safety and security of the girls top priority - and also tried to mix in fun ‘themed’ nights or nights with specials here and there, to keep things interesting. For New Years, they’d had a pretty big blowout - a four course menu option plus fireworks viewing. Took a lot to coordinate but steak.
And chicken fingers.
“What about pubes? I’m guessing those are just as forbidden?” she grinned, sliding a plate of fries Revy’s way. Free of charge, because you couldn’t have cluckers without fries, right? It was nice to hang out, even while at work - things had been busy lately, and crazy, thanks to the whirlwind surrounding the conclusion of Zelda’s legal battle. Midna wasn’t very business oriented, at least when it came to running an energy conglomerate - running a tits n’chicken place was a little different, so, she’d just be supportive and not get in the way.
The Triforce of Power, though. That triangle on her hand, the marking she knew would come. It helped when it came to her appearance, because before it her shapeshifting skills were limited to simple tricks and shadow beast form. Now, if she siphoned off just a little more, she in turn had more of a cushiony glamour. But that was the thing - how long until she was dependent on it, until she was all corrupted and gnarled like Ganon had been? How long until she became as cruel and greedy as he was, until she was some kind of monstrous pig-beast? How long until the fucking thing killed her?
Well, anyway. “How are things with you?”
Pubes, hah. Wasn’t she just funny. Though it made Revy inspect the contents of her basket just in case there was something undesirably fuzzy in there - all in the clear for now. Fries first for now; she dipped them in the melted garlic butter and took a bite. There was a shrug while she chewed, and after she swallowed came an actual verbal answer: “Unexciting. Had to shoot a friend’s door down to creepy as fuck dream chains, but that’s….about it.”
Nothing bled over from her dreams aside from a brutal ass kicking. That’d probably be the extent of it for her - she didn’t have the magic mumbo-jumbo in her sleep. Just a lot of violence, a lot of shitty people (herself included), and a lot of drinking. Some fucked up scenarios, like sociopathic bloodlusting twins sold into the sex trade that became murderers with a massive bounty on their heads - and she’d been willing to shoot their brains out for the cash - but she’d shaken it off, mostly.
Revy raised a brow. “Heard you got a loaded girlfriend now. Congrats, by the way. That dude locked had a look that screamed ‘asshole.’ How much trouble did he give you?”
“Here or there?” Midna asked, because the idea of reincarnation and bad apples continuing to be recycled through time was unfortunately a Big Deal in the place she and Zelda dreamed of. “It’s not a coincidence that real life parallels dream shit. But well, here he tried to buy out her lawyer, then when he refused the douchebag sent goons after he and Zellie. It might have ended badly if the Bandidos didn’t pop up at the most opportune time.”
She stole a fry for herself, popping it into her mouth and chewing, folding her arms on the table. Yep, the motorcycle gang - the same ones who were frequent patrons of the club and tipped very well. Midna was pretty fond of those big guys.
“He had a lot of expensive lawyers and shit, but ours was better. And we had a surveillance tape of what happened that night, so, that pretty much sealed the deal. I’m glad it’s over and done. Now she can focus on making that company more ethical and less...smelly.”
The Bandidos - what? Oh, fuck yeah, Revy knew who those guys were. Not bad fellas, even if they were caught swordfighting in the bathroom with their dicks once upon a drunken stripclub night, but like hell she expected them to play heroes in a situation like that. This time, both her brows skyrocketed. “Well, shit. Good for Roadkill and his pals. Hope they took a giant piss on those dipshits.” Literally, figuratively, it didn’t matter - but she also wouldn’t be surprised if they’d done it figuratively either.
There wasn’t much she followed on the news, though she’d at least follow that. Just to be in the loop. They seemed to have had it handled, those nerds with noodle arms.
“What’s that mean for you? You’re with someone who’s literally pissing dollar signs, you don’t have to be involved in all of….this,” she said, motioning over to the place in general. “You could do school full-time. Ditch this place and move on.”
Midna shrugged, swishing a fry around in a glob of garlic butter - nothing like a bit of grease to really help you sort through your thoughts, right? “I don’t really want to take her money though,” the stubborn princess stated. Once upon a time, she had been pissing dollar signs too - but had been down on her luck for more than awhile. However, things were starting to chug up that hill - slowly but surely, right?
“I’ll have to see what else comes along. I’m almost done with that series of Arabic classes, and then I’ll probably start volunteer work at some sort of Arabic-speaking organization. Maybe that’ll lead to a paying gig, but honestly, this place is the one paying my bills now,” she admitted. Managing the strip club meant she was making less than she did as a dancer, but it was still...okay. She supplemented with the money from her part-time burlesque gig. “I dunno, like it or not? I have sort of a fondness for the Rear End.”
A grin slipped free from her then, nostalgic as she remembered her first day on the job - and now look at her, look how far she’d climbed! She’d started out not wanting the responsibility, just the cash, but had sort of grown up a little as she challenged herself and her skillsets.
Revy probably would have milked the money all she could - probably. Depending on the context. Pride and general self-respect wouldn’t let her succumb to the creepy sugar daddy lifestyle, but Midna’s relationship with the blonde obviously wasn’t about the perks. Some kind of genuine, sappy lady love between one who dressed like a librarian and another like a naughty schoolgirl (or maybe she was thinking about her recently edited porn, who fucking knew).
“Lookit you, with a good head on your shoulders,” she chuckled, huskily, and started picking at the cooled chicken. “Whatever makes you happy, right?” If it involved running a strip joint with killer greasy finger foods, fuck it, do it. Everyone needed to march at the beat of their own drum. “Keep with the chicken n’ tits until it makes you miserable.”
Pulling a stool to sit on beside Revy was a woman of the Asian variety, hair shaved on the sides and the middle meticulously slicked up (with the generous, generous application of goopy hair gel) into a mohawk style. Nothing lanky, either - she looked all lean muscle, much like the woman she sat next to - covered in tattoos that looked like they’d been applied in prison.
She cleared her throat loudly to get attention, but Revy didn’t pay attention. “I’m thinking about doing the school bullshit, too. GED stuff. Never even graduated high school, so I figured I should fucking start somewhere.”
Revy in school? Midna was actually glad to hear that. She remembered when she first brought up the potential of going back to hit the books, and it had practically given the other woman hives. “Yeah?” Her tone was excited, and pleased for someone she called a friend - maybe Revy didn’t have a ton, neither did Midna (and she kept interesting company) but there was something about her fellow inked lady-pal that had her trusting her hard-knock life advice. “See, you’ve got a good head on your shoulders too, even if you don’t think you do,” she insisted, giving her a little nudge. “I was all privately home-schooled and shit. Having a GED is an accomplishment, so who cares if it’s a little later than is ‘standard’?”
There was still a lot to go on about but the arrival of the other woman, as Midna chatted, was a bit...overwhelming. Her presence radiated; it sent weird creepy-crawly feelings all up and down her spine, so she decided to nip it in the bud. “Can we help you?” she inquired curiously, maintaining politeness for now. Maybe she wasn’t packed with muscle, but hey - she could shapeshift into huge, ugly things. That itself held some badass points.
Revy’s skillset wasn’t exactly prime resume material. Even after her release she was still on the NYPD’s shitlist (27th Precinct, mostly) and there’d been several loose ends left unattended. And she was never part of functional society, not really - she’d been a street rat for as long as she remembered, a slave to poverty in her childhood, then prison came with strict regulations and the stripping away of all luxuries (not that she didn’t deserve it). Assimilating into it was a fucking challenge. It was tough shit to do anything without what was considered ‘proper education’ (because Algebra was a valuable life lesson, or the fuck ever), might as well get the basics under her belt at least.
“You’re a fucking awful influence,” she grumbled. “But I’d like to ideally get that shit done before I’m thirty.” It was a doable goal, wasn’t it? Something she was holding herself accountable for - Revy’s motivation to not be a total shit of a human being came from her own self. In case things crashed and burned, she’d have no one to disappoint.
As for the chick with the ‘hawk, well, that cunt wasn’t acknowledged - she figured it was some customer service thing Midna needed to handle, up until the bitch made a point in slamming her hand down onto her fried chicken basket, smushing the boneless strips beneath the pressure. “Unless your name is Rebecca, mind your own fuckin’ business ya hooker!”
What the fuck?
Rebecca twitched. “Do I even know you?”
Mohawk had to pause and take a moment to look legitimately offended at that question, which gave Revy a good window to backhand the woman in the face. Retribution for calling Midna a hooker, ya bitch.
Hooker? That was a mighty insult from a woman who looked like she had been hitting the steroids a little too hard. “You’re the one who came in here interrupting my business, you rank bitch - “ And she hopped out of the way, just in time for the not-so-classy lady to receive a backhanded slap which was rightfully deserved, but probably just not in a somewhat-respectable strip club that Midna was trying to run.
She adjusted her black suit jacket - yeah, it was an actual suit jacket over leather pants and boots, what of it? Rockin’ the managerial look, and proud of it. “I think maybe we should take this outside?” she suggested, fingers subtly crackling with shadow magic, with energy. Then she grabbed hold of their guest’s arm - it was a little bit of a pleasant tasing, nothing too severe. Just enough to inform her that if a fight broke out in this club, someone was going to pay for the damages.
And also maybe she wanted to hurt a hobag. That too.
Shit time to not be armed to the tits with her dual guns - it wouldn’t have been excessive at this rate - but Revy still had her fists, and already guessed Midna was pulling some of her weird magic mojo on the spiky-haired hack. Outside was best, where it was dark and less crowded with people to witness a possible throwdown between three women (especially one with her dark magic shit, jesus).
Beardo Hawke thought about helping, but alas. Drinks didn’t mix themselves.
Mohawk on Steroids had vibrating teeth by the time she’d been dragged outside, though she did her best to struggle and yank from Midna’s hold. She had guns, Revy caught a glimpse of a holster hidden beneath her jacket, but they weren’t drawn. “Just here for my fucking money. You thought you could skip Manhattan without coughing up a cent, ‘Becca??”
Oh, for fuck’s sake - “How much money do I fucking owe you?” Her wallet was pulled out, and there was some cash in there she was thumbing through.
“Do you really think I’d have come across the states for chump change? Thirty grand, Becca, you fucked me over by thirty grand.”
All Revy had in her wallet was eighty bucs. Yeah, that wouldn’t do.
Don’t worry, Beardo Hawke, Midna totally had this. You just keep mixing those fifteen dollar margaritas. She accompanied the two ladies outside, and to her credit, didn’t toss Mohawk on her ass - or open a portal and dump her inside, only to be sucked down into a void of eternal darkness. Yeah, not kosher, and she figured that maybe Revy (Becca??) wanted to hear what she had to say.
Thirty grand, though? Midna’s eyebrow quirked up, a slim arch over glamoured butterscotch eyes. “Well, she obviously doesn’t have that on her now,” the Twilight Princess pointed out. “Give her a chance to get it back.“
Suggesting that Revy rob a bank also wouldn’t do, but Midna glanced over at her - whatever she decided (like, to actually agree to pay the money or fight to the death, whatever), she had a friend to help her and back her up. A stubborn friend, who didn’t mind making someone else’s problems her problems. Hey, it was a form of girl bonding anyway, right?
Yes, Becca. Or Rebecca. Revy was merely a nickname given to her by street rats that stuck like fungus; and she liked it. Less of a mouthful than Rebecca, but some people insisted on the actual name and it made her feel like a fucking child being scolded. Manhattan was also for-fucking-ever ago, and in a life of blazing guns and drunken stupor, the debt collector with the goopy hair wasn’t someone she actually remembered.
Again, drunken stupor, debt collecting - all parts of an equation that equaled a stupid fucking mistake had been committed once upon a stupid ass night. Because the cunt was right, thirty grand wasn’t chump change, and Revy just set her lips to a straight line and tucked the wallet back into the pocket of her jeans. “I can’t shit out that kind of money, you retard,” she grumbled, glancing back at Midna too. My bad, Legs. “Don’t really appreciate you messing with my dinner -”
“Again, thirty grand, you stole it from me, after a bad gambling night. I don’t give a shit about your chicken fingers.”
Fair enough.
Mohawk on Steroids spit by their feet, jabbing an accusing finger. “Pay up, before someone else does.”
Revy’s raise mirrored Midna’s, in the sense of I’m going to enjoy shooting your face off. Even if the bitch had the right to be a bit peeved about her money being stolen (something that did sound familiar to her, way too familiar now), that was an open threat - and she didn’t have the the literal firepower to put a bullet in her head for now.
“Let’s go back inside,” she snorted, reaching for Midna’s elbow. Mohawk could try something against the club tonight, but she wouldn’t - and the Twilight Princess here would send her spiraling to the fucking moon if she tried to stir things up around paying customers.
Alright, fine, if Revy thought that the bitch wasn’t crazy enough to pull a gun on paying customers and do something batfucked like shoot up the place, then Midna would go with it. She wasn’t pissed, not really at Revy because it was part of a past she was obviously trying to leave behind for better things - more like Midna was annoyed at the situation, and bristly, because she expected a relatively calm night at work. She’d had to bail bouncers out of jail before, handle shit with the po-po’s, but nothing like this. Thirty grand really wasn’t chump change, how was the debt going to be settled?
“Got the message,” she said, and then with those long legs of hers (elongated even by the boots she wore - Amazonian heights were best for intimidation at her place of employment) strode back into the club. Then when they were inside, she turned to slumber party pal (haha, that was amusing imagery and asked the million dollar question. “Well, what’s the plan? And that gambling thing...that’s not still an issue, right?” Because doing it enough to rack up a sky-high debt kind of signaled problems.
A plan. What was the plan? Revy thought about the options, returning to her stool and picking at the very smashed chicken strips - Hawke was too busy dealing with Rainbow Bitch over there to order fresh ones - and they still seemed edible enough. Bitch wouldn’t ruin her dinner completely.
“I’m not a gambling addict,” Revy deadpanned to clarify any doubts. And stuffed the fried bird meat into her mouth, all of it, until her cheeks were filled with cold battered goodness and thought while she chewed. Fucking christ, she needed a drink, was almost willing to dish out the funds for a ridiculously priced one at the bar - maybe after Rainbow Brite swallowed that cup of shut the fuck up Beardo was about to serve.
After a swallow, she cleared her throat. “What’s she saying happened was way before I got locked up - seven years, maybe eight. If she’s been waiting until I got out, crossed the states to show up, she means what she says. If I can confirm she’s working solo, I’ll just fucking kill her. I can’t get that money, Midna, and I doubt she finances.”
Midna didn’t say anything yet, just went to the bar and got them both drinks. Shots, more like, because this was something that required such things. She set the tray down, compliments of Beardo - who probably deserved a raise for putting up with the crap he did, especially Rainbow Brite, her gazillion piercings, and terribad come-on lines. Apparently even leaving the place with Pirate Tits McGee hadn’t been enough to dissuade Ms. Brite.
“She really wants that money, Revy, I doubt she’s working solo.” A shot glass was picked up, the pungent liquid knocked back, and Midna shuddered from the residual burn as it slithered through her. “You heard the bitch - someone else is gonna pay, if you don’t. You need me to squash her and her whole crew? Because seriously, I will.”
With one spider leg, even. Bring it on, Mohawk.
How many people? How far did it span? Questions Revy needed to find the answers to, because her fingers were trigger happy and she would go both guns blazing - in due time - she at least wanted to know what she was getting into, and how many needed to die. No hard feelings, Mohawk. “What, you wanna go all partner with me?” The shot was taken appreciatively, tossing it back and down the hatch. “Tell you what - why the fuck not? My guns and your magic combined…” They’d be a tornado, that’s what.
And fuck, Revy was sure that even if she did piss out the cash, Mohawk and whoever the hell she came with would off her anyway for making them wait. It’s the way the world worked. You couldn’t trust anyone, and she had danced this tango better than most.
“I’ll find a lead. It’ll be a girl date.”
Like Midna would trust a person like Mohawk anyway, so she also didn’t believe that the cheery, ‘roid raging bitch would dance off into a field of flowers once she had her money. It seemed like a lot of animosity brewing - and hell, Midna knew about extortion and the fallout from that. Not like Zant had gone on his merry way after he took all her money. May the fucker not be resting in peace.
“Of course I do, I mean, could you trust anyone else to be your partner in this?” she grinned. “Or I should say, can anyone else turn into a huge awkward spider?” Wait, don’t answer that, but the answer was still probably not.
The next shot glass lifted in a toast. “You find a lead, we’ll get this done on a girl date. I’ll drink to that.”
Revy wasn’t worried. Fuck, she didn’t mind the excitement all that much anyway - it was sort of refreshing, even if it reminded her about the rancid stink of city streets and gunpowder. Old habits died really fucking hard and it’s not like she was looking for the trouble in the first place. It came down, literally, smashing her chicken. Had to roll with the punches and gunfire; the other alternative wasn’t good for her health (though none of her habits were actually good for her).
Her second glass rose too, for a toast. “To fixing my fuck ups, I guess.”