The members of the "Anti-Blond Alliance" had no idea what was happening over on the girls' side. After all, they had a "war" of their own to fight.
When a duel between men involved neither violence nor physical prowess, there were only a handful of things left to compete over. And here, there was no question that only one suitable "weapon" remained.
Booze!
Although the United States prohibited underage drinking, that rule clearly meant jack shit to ordinary people. Besides, the richest man in the world was right there with them.
And so, a rather unconventional contest began. The two sides exchanged no unnecessary words, yet some uncanny intuition told each of them exactly whom the other side had come for.
Although the "Anti-Blond Alliance" had the advantage in physical fitness, even boasting Captain America, a man at the very limits of human capability, the blonds opposite them were not to be underestimated. Their youthful bodies and overwhelming numerical advantage all but erased their disadvantage in this war, forcing both sides onto an even playing field.
Amid cheers from onlookers who were only too happy to stir up trouble, the "war" grew increasingly fierce. By the later rounds, it was no longer even about whether anyone was blond. It had become a matter of men's goddamn need to win.
Unsurprisingly, Sherlock, who rarely drank, was practically the first to go down. After chugging an entire large bottle of whiskey, he slept more soundly than a pig, hugging the bottle and snoring loud enough to shake the heavens.
What? Why didn't Sherlock, an alchemist, use Alchemy to break down the alcohol in his body?
Outrageous! How could anyone cheat in a war between men?
Anyone who had ever drunk with his buddies knew the deal. A bastard could swipe your lighter