The name of this story is: Defining Low

Author: Cruelty of the Snow

Fandom: Dogs: Bullets and Carnage by Miwa Shirow

Pairing: Heine Rammsteiner x Badou Nails

Alright, lovelies. This is loosely based off of an rp Kaida and I had about a year ago, and I figured, with a few storyline changes it could make a half-way decent Fanfiction. Exciting, I know. The whole thing is mildly AU. Not completely, just mildly, mind you. Oh, and if you find anything exceptionally disturbing throughout this, blame it on me being a sick bastard. :D

Badou wasn't a stranger to being broke, however this constituted as a new low. It wasn't that he necessarily had anything against dancing on a Friday night. No. That wasn't the problem here. The problem was the fact he was dancing, on a stage, on a Friday evening, dressed in women's clothing. Yes… That was quite a bit of a problem.

It didn't help that the audience was entirely made up by lusting, middle-age, homosexual men. That didn't help one bit. He shuddered, hoping his boss hadn't seen the shiver. When you were onstage, you simply didn't shudder, no matter how straight you were.

The red-head stole a glance at the clock. Only another five minutes before he was done for the night, though he supposed it was actually closer to the morning. He mildly regretted forgetting his usual clothes at his house. He had been in a hurry on his way to work, and ended up coming dressed as a woman, knowing he could spare no time to change. He would leave dressed as one as well. He sighed, and filed off the stage with the other dancers as the next shift filed on.

What a relief! He wouldn't have to go through this for almost another twenty hours! "Only… twenty hours." The redhead muttered to himself, in despair. He reached the backroom, opening the door and stepping inside, after a brief glance around the area. The man hadn't been working at the club for a month, and he'd already managed to get himself into some pretty awkward situations by not surreptitiously scanning the backroom before walking in. He let out the breath of air he'd been subconsciously holding when he flicked the lights on, and no one was tied to anything. No whips were in sight. In fact, no objects of questionable nature could be seen. Sidestepping around the ever disturbing side cabinet (which he compared to the Narnia he just never wanted to visit again), he made his way to the sink and mirror on the back wall. Reaching into a small drawer under the sink, he removed a cloth and some fresh makeup. "I'm not going to leave looking like a damn drag queen." He muttered under his breath, as he grit his teeth and splashed his face with cold water. Black and purple cascaded itself way down his face, not unlike some sort of putrid waterfall. He felt like puking, as some of the thick, pasty shadow found its way into his mouth. Who knew that shit could taste any worse than shampoo? He spit out the offending substance with vigor, preferring not to think about what else had been spit out in this very room.

Badou looked in the mirror when his face seemed to be relatively makeup free. As usual the tell tale line of eyeliner and mascara still remained around his eyes. A few more hearty scrubs saw the end of this, however. He sighed now.

"Like I'm going to let anyone realize I'm a dude in a dress." He muttered, draying his face and reaching for the foundation and eyeliner, once more. A touch of blush, a little mascara and some lipgloss had him looking like your average, completely female, stripper; at least in his opinion. The man tied back his hair, in a messy, but fashionable bun, glancing down at his frighteningly tall heels and took a tentative step towards the door. Being relatively new to such shoes, each new bout of walking was like ice skating for the first time in a year. One had to get re-accustomed with each venture.

Forcing himself to sway his hips, Badou stepped into the back alley of the bar, stepping over what he was certain was a used rubber, and making his way back to the main street. He made a point to walk toward, and past the bar without sparing it a glance. No one would ever suspect he worked there. Never. When he deemed himself safely away from his place of employment, he spared a glance in a nearby dark window.

"How far the mighty have fallen." The man sighed, reaching into what would normally have been his pocket with a loud curse.

He'd left his fucking cigs at home.

Badou cursed again, more loudly, shaking his head in despair.

That's when he caught sight of the other man. Of average size and height, the only thing that made him stand out was his white hair. Glaringly white, like an old man hopped up on Botox injections. That had to be what it was. White hair and an attractive face, it had to be Botox. As he drew closer to the other man, Badou became distinctly aware the other man was staring at him. He also became distinctly aware that he was fucking hungry, and hadn't gotten his paycheck for the week yet.

The wheels in his mind began to turn, and a brilliant idea formed in the redhead's brain. He readjusted the patch he'd placed over his eye. His usual story when he was dressed like this, was that he was into pirate play. It always seemed to raise some sort of an interest in the men spoke with and he figured this would be no different.

This white haired bastard was obviously checking him out and Badou was hungry. All in all, it seemed the combination worked pretty well. Mustering up his feminine side, Badou sauntered his way up to the white haired man and closer inspection revealed he really was young. However, said young man took a nervous step back when he realized Badou approached him.

"What's the matter?" Badou purred, in his best impression of a sultry woman. "Afraid of a full grown woman? You don't look the type." He grinned, completely unaware of just how true the statement was. It was also at this time that Badou became aware of another rather uncomfortable fact. He stood a few inches taller than the other man. The heels he wore only served to extenuate this unfortunate height difference.

Badou almost laughed when he saw the other man's eyes narrowed. He'd taken the bait.

"Of course not." The white haired man scoffed. "I'm just in a hurry and don't have the time to be bothered with your kind."

"My kind?"

"Whores."

"Hey! You've got it wrong! I'm no whore!" Badou exclaimed. Sure, it was a good opportunity to demand breakfast, but he really needed to get the hell out of those clothes, and soon. "You owe a lady dinner—er – breakfast, actually, after an insult like that!" Dinner just seemed to role so much more easily off the tongue in this scenario.

He could see the white haired man's mind struggling to grasp what Badou had said. Then, with a defeated sigh, almost as if he was merely too lazy to say no, he nodded. "Fine. Fine. But then I'd love it, if you'd leave me alone. I don't know what you're up to, but it takes more than a pretty face to win me over." He grinned. His expression changed then, as he looked Badou up and down. "Here's the deal. I'll buy you breakfast, but first you're going to go home and change into something that won't make my favorite café think I hired some fun for then night, hmm? Meet me in an hour?"

Badou stared with his mouth agape for a moment before finally nodding, a tad suspicious by this sudden compliance."Where's this place?" He asked, dejectedly. Somehow he just knew the white haired man wouldn't really show up. It was worth a shot, anyway, though.

"Oh, just down the street there, actually." The white hair man replied, with a small smirk, as if he dared the red head to complain about the café being in the less… expensive section of town.

"I'll be there in an hour then." Badou replied, hurriedly. "Toodaloo!" He added, merely for his own amusement. In fact, so amused by the stupidity of his departing words, it wasn't until he realized he'd have to come out of his house dressed a woman again, that Badou's face fell into an expression of sulleness.

"Shit." He grumbled, fumbling at his non-existent pocket for an equally non-existent cig. "Fuck!"

****

Heine stared after the odd woman with a look of mortification. He'd just signed his own death warrant. "Who cares if she was acting suspicious… She's a she." He muttered, under his breath. He didn't do well with shes.

The man shook his head. Still, he found it odd she'd approached him of all people, in such a way. Almost certain something more sinister than being a hungry stripper was the cause of her actions, he'd felt it was best to get a better idea of the situation.

Even if she was a woman.

He didn't suffer from a shortage of enemies, after all and he couldn't afford to let his guard down, not even for a second. Shaking his head, and running a finger down the barrel of one of his guns, for reassurance, Heine began the trek to the café.

He needed to think before they spoke face to face. He needed to have his wits about him in order to determine whether the woman was a threat or merely an idiot. Who knew these days, after all? After a few more steps, he found himself at the door of the familiar café, and he opened it, walked in and took a seat at what could only be called his usual table. The waitress smiled at him, and he gave a nod in response, along with a wave of his hand, in indication someone would be meeting him.

Heine hadn't slept in almost two days and it must have shown on his face, because the waitress brought him over a cup of coffee. "It's on the house." She murmured, with a small smile on her face.

"Thanks." Heine replied, a bit gruffly, but kindly. Then, when she was out of hearing range, he added. "I guess I must look worse than I thought." He turned his attention to the door, hoping something drastically awful wouldn't occur the moment the odd woman stepped through the doors.

With his luck, Heine couldn't afford to let his guard, down. Readjusting the bandages covering his neck, and toying with the guns chained to his waist, Heine waited for what was certain to be an eventful breakfast.

Thanks for reading~ And if anyone is wondering about Apologetic Realizations (my Harry Potter based piece, I still plan to finish it, I'm just magnificently lazy and wanted to get started on this)

Now remember, loves, R&R makes my day and encourages me to keep writing.