Edge's Story ~fin~

Warriors fan fiction created by members of the forum.

Re: The Saracens' Story

Postby Dud » Tue Sep 01, 2009 1:32 pm

Ready for a really sneaky way of getting out of making up stories for the next year?  :p




May 14, 1978
8:56 pm


The strip was shutting down and I decided to take a little walk to clear my head and collect some protection money that I’d forgotten to collect at the start of the month. My first port-of-call was a jewellery store called ‘The Family Jewels.’ I went in and collected the money with no problem. I turned and headed of the store, and bumped into Skipper and a young blood - the two that must’ve been on patrol.
“It’s alright guys,” I nodded “The strip’s shutting down; head back to the hangout.”
Skipper and his partner both nodded and headed past me, as I moved onto the next shop: ‘HiFi Electronics.’ Once again, I collected the money with no problem, but then the guy started asking me questions about the JSBs.
“Look, it’s not problem,” I said reassuringly. “We were just caught off-guard when we lost the Liquor and Drug stores. We’ve got these stores locked up tight.”
The guy nodded and I headed back out onto the street. Two pigs walked out of an alley in front of me and eyed me warily. Knowing I had done nothing wrong, I walked past them calmly. I got past them when all of a sudden; I took a club to the back! I went down, and the pig began cuffing me as is partner began reading me my Mirandas.
“What the hell did I do, man?” I complained, but I was told to shut up.
The pigs picked me up and led me to a nearby patrol car before shoving me in. I was shell-shocked; I had literally done nothing wrong, and yet I was being arrested?
“Oooh, one case of burglary, once case of battery and assault and one case of running a protection racket,” The pig in the driver’s seat gloated. “You’re going away for a year, easily.”
“You can’t do this to me man!” I yelled as the second cop got into the passenger’s seat.
“Oh yes we can.” The second cop said in a sing-song voice, before he and his partner broke off into a laugh.
“Goddamnit! Okay then, smart-ass, tell me what I’ve done?”
“We’ve just told you,” The passenger side cop answered as we set off. “Running a protection racket, stealing stuff-”
“But I haven’t done any of that!” I interrupted, my hands automatically balling into fists, despite being in ‘cuffs.
“No, you haven’t,” The driver smirked. “But those JSBs pay well.”
“I’m gonna murder those sons-of-bitches!”
“Careful son,” The passenger said patronisingly. “Making threats like that may just put you away for another few months.”
I closed my eyes and wished myself to wake up from this nightmare, but I didn’t. This stuff was real.
Dud
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Re: The Saracens' Story

Postby the lady warrior » Tue Sep 01, 2009 6:42 pm

thanx dud for the comment and yeah poor swan and rem :lol:! your story is so cool and is coming along great i wonder how edge is gonna get outta this one i hate what them slimy jsb's have put all of the saracens thru and esppically what they've put edge thru...yeah the story has all the elements a good saracens story shud have,yeah defo carry on.i cant wait for the next chapter adios dud!!
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Re: The Saracens' Story

Postby Scott Ward » Wed Sep 02, 2009 1:13 pm

this is good stuff man. keep at it
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Re: The Saracens' Story

Postby Dud » Wed Sep 02, 2009 7:56 pm

Thank you lady warrior and Scott; your comments are highly appreicated.

Anyway, here's Edge's return from prison. Enjoy.  8)




June 16, 1979
6:34 pm


After that trial and everything, I ended up missing around 13 months of my life. Those 13 months weren’t bad; I could handle myself in jail and after some ‘big dog’ tried to mess with me within the first few days, no-one laid a finger on me in my stay.
I jumped off the train and jogged down the steps, back wearing my Saracens vest and necklace. I practically ran back to the hangout, almost slavering at the thought of meeting up with the guys. I reached the hangout and burst through the door - to find nobody. I looked around, calling out a few names, but I couldn’t find anyone. My mind jumped to some bad conclusions; had all of my Saracens been taken down like me? Hell, was there such a thing as the Saracens anymore?
“Hey punk, what do you think you’re doing in our hangout?” A deep voice sounded behind me, from the door.
I turned and saw a big figure stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the evening light. I stepped forward to see who he was-
“Don’t come any closer, I’m warning you,” He said menacingly. “I’ll ask you again, what’re you doing here?”
“What clique is this?”
“The Saracens, of course,” The guy said, before stepping forward with a big smile on his face. It was Skipper. “Welcome back, Warlord.”
The rest then appeared behind him; all of them were there; Mouse, Snake, Petey, Big Jer, everybody. They all stepped forward, Mouse leading them.
“I don’t even know if we should let you back in after what you pulled,” He said seriously. “Leaving us like that?”
“Oh come on,” I smiled back at him. “You make it sound as though you didn’t like being in charge for the last year.”
“It was alright,” He nodded, as I noted he still had his white Warchief vest on. “But I’m not you.”
“So tell us what jail was like man.” Big Jer said, stepping forward.
“No, there’s no time for that,” Mouse shook his head. “We gotta get down to Tremont.”
“Why?” I asked.
“About a week ago, some minor league outfit called the Orphans reported that they had marched down here and wasted us - which is bullcrap. We decided that we better take a Warparty down there and wreck everyone we find.”
“Sweet,” I nodded. “Who’s going?”
“Me, the two Jers, Lance, Skipper and you.”
“Am I?” I raised my eyebrows.
“Yeah, you’ve not been in action for a year. Don’t want you getting rusty now, do we?” Mouse smirked.
“Well let’s go.” I smiled back.
“Alright guys, let’s move out.” Mouse called, and the four guys Mouse had named trotted over.
“So fill me in.” I said as we headed out of the hangout and onto the street.
“Wow, prison really does change people.” Big Jer said, the rest of the guys laughing.
“Ha-ha,” I rolled my eyes. “Seriously though, what’s been happening?”
“Nothing really,” Mouse shrugged. “Except we’ve grown about to about four times what we were and we now have a rep as one of the toughest sets in the city.”
“Really?” I said, eyes wide open.
“Yeah,” Mouse nodded. “We’re up there with the Riffs and Turnbulls.”
“Not bad,” I nodded. “How’s the JSB situation?”
“Not bad, but not good,” Mouse said with a glum look on his face.”These dirty cops are making our lives a misery.”
“Yeah.”
“Only a few weeks ago the JSBs firebombed our stores. I got loads - and I mean loads, probably more than 100 - of soldiers and we went down to their hangout, packed to the Goddamn teeth man. But those cops stopped us and they called for backup when I said I was going into their hangout anyway.”
I shook my head, but an idea was forming in my head. Still, I couldn’t think about that as the train had just pulled up.
“So who’s the leader of this two-bit outfit?” I asked as we sat down.
“Daz said it’s some guy named Sully,” Mouse explained. “And he also told us that these guys are small time. They’re not even on the Riffs’ network.”
“Neither are we, though.” I said with a frown.
“We are now,” Mouse said with a smile, and I nodded. “Some of the moves we’ve been making recently, coupled with the fact we saved Cyrus’ ass last year, put us on the map.” 
“Yo, Warlord; I’ve laid a mean burner outside of the hangout, you should check it when we get back.” Little Jer said to me.
“I will,” I nodded. “You got some paint?”
“I always do, boss.”
“Good, I want Tremont painted with our colours after tonight,” I replied with a smirk. “Now tell me about some of these moves you guys have been making recently.”
Last edited by Dud on Fri Sep 04, 2009 2:34 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: The Saracens' Story

Postby Dud » Thu Sep 03, 2009 3:01 pm

Here's the Saracens vs. the Orphans. I really liked how this chapter came together (despite it's length), and I hope you enjoy it.  :D




June 16, 1979
7:28 pm


“Man, I can’t wait to waste these faggots.” Lance said as we stepped off the train and onto the platform.
“Yeah, me neither,” I nodded. “I wanna get right back into the habit of wrecking people.”
We headed down onto the street and looked around.
“This place looks like a dump.” Skipper noted.
“It’s Tremont, man,” Big Jer replied. “Of course it’s a dump.”
We walked along the street and some bums yelled at us from the other side of a mesh fence.
“Hey kid, you looking for those Orphans?”
“Yeah, we are,” I nodded. “Where are they?”
“Should be some down in the clinic,” He replied. “Lemme just get this door for you.”
“Thanks,” I said to the bum, before turning back to the Saracens. “Lance, Skipper; go grab some stuff from that jewellery store over there. Jer, get to work on that tag. Mouse, Big Jer, go get us some weapons.”
The Saracens got to work. Lance and Skipper came back a few minutes later with some dough, and I treated each of the bums with five bucks for their trouble, before slipping the rest of the dough in my pocket. Little Jer crossed out the tag and Mouse and Big Jer brought back some pipes and sticks of wood. We all got packed before walking past the grateful bums and heading over to the clinic. We got there and there wasn’t many Orphans; maybe a half-dozen at most, all sat down, oblivious to the pounding they were about to get. We stood on top of an old fish market, before I yelled down to them.
“Hey, you slimy pricks! You wanna mess with the Saracens?”
We jumped down whilst most of them were still standing up. We rushed at them, swinging our planks of wood and our pipes. I unfortunately picked an Orphan who had just been drinking from a bottle of booze, so I had a bottle slammed into my forehead before I even got a swing in. I reeled away before adrenaline took control and I hit the guy so hard in the stomach with my plank of wood that it broke it half. He began falling backwards but I grabbed him and pulled him straight into a headbutt, busting his nose wide open. Blood went all over my head as well as his, but I didn’t care. I caught him with a left in the gut, which made him double over, before grabbing his head and slamming into my right knee. His head made a hollow crack as it connected; and a thud when his unconscious head slammed into the floor. I turned to survey the battle just in time to see Mouse finish the last Orphan off with hard right hander.
“There’s gotta be more than that,” Big Jer said, rubbing his nose. “Where are the rest of these guys?”
“I don’t-” I began, but was cut off by the sound of people laughing.
“...And the DJ bought it! They actually believed that we had wasted those wim...”
I’m guessing the Orphan’s next word was gonna be ‘wimps’ but he didn’t finish as he saw six Saracens - four of them packed - stood in front of him. He gulped nervously, and looked to the guy on his left and then the guy on his right. He was saying ‘Six-on-three; this ain’t good. Let’s hightail it out of here!’ But we closed in on them. Surrounded, they cowered and we smiled at seeing this.
“Look, we won’t waste you if you tell us where we can find the rest of this two-bit outfit.” I said, still smiling.
“It’s... you can...”
“Tell us.” I said bluntly.
“The... The Orphanage, we call it.”
“And where would that be?” I asked?
“In the alley... across from the...”
“The what?”
“The gas pumps.”
“Finally.” Mouse muttered at the right of me.
“I know, right?” I turned to him. “I think they took too long.”
We advanced in on them, two of us for every one of them. I grabbed the leading one - the one who had been talking to us - by the collar and punched him once in the mouth, hard enough to loosen some teeth and bust his lip, before spinning him around and holding his head out so that Mouse could get a good shot to the back of the head with his lead pipe. One shot; boom; out for the count. Skipper slammed the final of the three’s head against the wall and I raised my eyebrows at this brutal-ness, but said nothing. He turned and gave me a toothy grin, and I laughed, before turning to the rest of the guys.
“C’mon, let’s go waste these guys.”
“Should I lay anything down, boss?” Little Jer asked me.
“Yeah, okay,” I nodded. “Mark the spot where our massacre of these wimps began.”
Little Jer got to work quickly and efficiently and only a few minutes later we had a half-decent Saracens tag on the wall.
“Good job little man,” I said to him, and he smiled back. “Now let’s move.”
We turned the corner and quickly jumped over a set of fences before moving around some buildings to get to the main street.
“Look!” Little Jer yelled, pointing up at a billboard that had an Orphans tag on it. “Want me to go cross that out?”
“Nah, it’s cool little man,” I aid reassuringly. “I’ll let you leave a burner at the Orphanage or whatever.”
Little Jer nodded, and I spotted two Orphans come out from an alley and walk up the street, their backs facing us.
“Lance, Skipper; go put them out,” I hissed. “And be quiet.”
Skipper nodded and the two of them began jogging after them, being surprisingly quiet bearing in mind how big both of them were. I saw the two of them catch up with the Orphans, and either Lance or Skipper must’ve said something, because the two Orphans turned around - one got taken down with a hard shot from Skipper; the other went down after Lance threw a straight left at him. A few minutes and one big beating later, and the coast was clear. We caught up with the two of them and I patted each of them on the back.
“You two did well just then,” I nodded approvingly. “Now where’s this hangout?”
“It should be in there.” Mouse said, motioning to an alley just ahead of us - just across the street from an abandoned gas station. We headed down the alley and followed some twists and turns before we caught sight of what we guessed was the Orphanage. The gate leading to the Orphanage was closed, but just for dramatic effect I kicked it open. They had a little party going on; a barbeque was being tended to, the bottles of beer were out; that kinda crap. As we stepped into the Orphanage a silence came across the Orphans and all of them looked at a guy who had his arm draped around some chick in a pink top and a pink skirt - that was probably Sully. He stood up and smirked.
“Oh look, it’s the Saracens... wreck ‘em, Orphans!”
He spoke big, but as soon as he had said that he turned and ran up some steps leading to his apartment, I guess. The Orphans looked a little worried and I turned to the guys.
“Waste these fools; I’m going after their leader.”
And with that I turned and shoved any Orphans out of my way, before running up the stairs and catching Sully. He was trying to get into his apartment and shut his door, but I slammed into the door, sending splinters of wood flying everywhere. Sully also fell back and onto the floor but I grabbed him by the throat and lifted him up, before punching him square in the mouth and then throwing him further into the house. He tried to get up, but I gave him some kicks to the ribs. I then saddled him and began punching him - one right hand, one left hand, one right, one left. I fell into a rhythm and got a little carried away - his face was completely scarlet when I got off him; I had busted both of his lips, broken his nose and given him two black eyes. I looked around before I walked away and saw Sully’s girlfriend leaning out of the bedroom door. She gave me the old ‘come-on’ look so I swaggered over to her and embraced her. We then locked lips and I shoved her up against the wall. She began taking her top off, but then I pulled away. She frowned at me, and I smirked back.
“I’ve just wrecked this guy and the rest of his crew; doing his girlfriend would be going over-the-top.”
I continued smirking as I turned and stepped over his body, before heading out of the apartment and down the steps into the Orphanage; it seemed every Orphan had been wrecked. Mouse came up to me.
“Where’ve you been?” He asked.
“Wrecking Sully.”
“You’ve got lipstick on you.” Mouse noted, smirking.
“Nah, it’s just blood,” I replied, although Mouse’s look showed that he didn’t believe me one bit. “Anyway, we ready to go?”
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Re: The Saracens' Story

Postby Dud » Fri Sep 04, 2009 2:39 pm

Just a small chapter to keep the whole JSB situation alive. Enjoy.  8)




June 24, 1979
8:17 pm


“So I heard Cyrus has been working on something big.” Mouse said to me.
“Yeah, I know,” I replied. “I wonder what it is.”
“Gonna be big. The boss of the biggest gang in the city-”
“Edge!” Daz yelled, bursting through the hangout doors. “Our stores are under attack!”
“Mouse, Snake, Petey, Arson, Big Jer, Skipper, Lance; move now!” I yelled across the hangout. “Little Jer, you’re in charge ‘til I get back.”
We then turned and ran out of the hangout. We saw that they was trouble before we even got to the stores; there was a group of JSBs beating down on someone who was most likely Clemo. We piled in and cleaned house of the JSBs before we split up into groups of three and four and went off to protect the store. I lead Big Jer, Petey and Arson into ‘HiFi Electronics.’ JSBs armed with crowbars, lead pipes and everything in between were wrecking the joint. I ran up to one of the JSBs and span him around, before grabbing him and delivering a left shot to the gut - doubling him over. I grabbed the back of his head and slammed it into my knee, busting his nose open and knocking him out. I grabbed his crowbar and swung for another JSB, the crowbar hitting him in the stomach. He feel forward and I simultaneously swung my right fist upward in an uppercut. My rising first met his falling jaw with teeth-rattling force, and he fell to the floor limp. The rest of the JSBs in the store had been wrecked, so we went out onto the street to survey what was going on. The fight had spilled onto the street and it looked as though we had the upper-hand, but I then heard some sirens; someone had called the pigs.
“Saracens, stand down! Get back to the hangout!” I yelled, before turning and leading them back in just as the first cops arrived and came out of their car.
I closed the hangout door behind us and we sat down.
“Man, I hope some of those JSBs get busted.” Clemo said, rubbing his head.
“They won’t,” I said, shaking my head. “The pigs around here are eating out of those slimy bastards’ hands.”
“Goddamnit.” Mouse muttered.
“Although I do have an idea,” I turned to Mouse. “I wanna know if any new cliques have been making any waves lately; some outfit that would work with us.”
“What about the Eliminators? Tracer and you are still on good terms, right?”
“Yeah, but the Eliminators have their hands full with those mimes.”
“Well...” Mouse said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. “There is this one crew who have been making a name for themselves recently...”
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Re: The Saracens' Story

Postby Dud » Sat Sep 05, 2009 2:47 pm

If you've played the Warriors-Saracens-JSBs level on the game you'll know that this isn't exactly word for word in parts, this is because I didn't want [bad word deleted] or whatever it is all over the story.

Anyway, enjoy.  8)




July 3, 1979
9:19 pm


“I’ve been talking to Cyrus,” I said to the several other guys seated around me. “He’s invited us to a meeting on July 12. Some serious stuff’s gonna go down man.”
“Cool,” Snakefingers nodded. “He specify what it’s about?”
“Nah,” I shook my head. “But it’s gotta be big. Only the toughest crews will be there.”
“Edge!” Lance yelled running into the hangout. “The Warriors are here.”
“Alright,” I nodded. “Snake and Arson, come with me. I’ll be back in 10 minutes; until then, you’re in charge Mouse.”
Mouse nodded and Arson came over to where Snake and I were stood. The three of us turned to head out and Lance went to join us, but I gently pushed him back.
“You stay here; when I get back I’ll be sending you out to watch on our friends.” I said to him, and he acknowledged it with a nod, before taking a seat with Mouse and the others.
We headed down the street and through a maze of alleys before we came to an alley just off Jones Street that was a few blocks away from the subway. The three of us turned to watch out for any JSBs, but Arson nudged me on the shoulder.
“Hey, check it out.” He said, and I turned to face a Warrior wearing a cowboy hat and another dressed in Native American clothes.
“You Edge?” The one in the cowboy hat asked me.
“That’s right Warrior,” I nodded. “We heard you guys were good, that’s why we brought you in to help us take down Jones Street. Those punks been working with some dirty cops that love to make our lives a misery. So we’re gonna take two birds with one stone: steal a bunch of crap, plant some of it in the cop car’s trunk and the rest in the JSB’s hangout. You pull this off, we’ll put in a word for you with the Gramercy Riffs.”
Arson once again touched my shoulder and motioned to a group of JSBs on the other side of the road.
“Speak of the Devil; there’s the JSBs there,” I said to the Warriors. “Watch out for their scouts; you don’t wanna draw too much attention to yourselves.”
“Cool man, we got it.” The cowboy Warrior nodded. I returned the nod and the three of us walked past them. We turned around the corner and found Skipper.
“Tail these guys for a while,” I said to him. “Don’t get involved in anything though. I’ll be sending Lance out to take over from you in a while, so keep an eye out for him.”
Skipper nodded and headed off to follow the two Warriors. Snake, Arson and I headed off back to the hangout.
“Think they’re gonna do it?” Snake said as we approached the hangout.
“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “These Warriors have been making some moves lately. It’s also gotta be motivation for them that I they pull this off we’re putting a word in them with the Riffs.”
“Yeah.” Snake replied, Arson nodding his agreement.
We walked through the hangout doors to see nothing knew had happened, and we took seats with the rest of the guys.
I waited around 20 minutes before calling Lance over and explaining to him that I wanted him to find Skipper and take over for him. Several minutes later Skipper took a seat next to me.
“Lance found you okay?”
“Yeah.” Skipper nodded.
“So tell me what’s going on with them.”
“Man, these guys are some crazy mothers, man,” Skipper said excitedly. “First off, they went and looted the drug and liquor stores. Some cops came to grab them, and these two guys wrecked all five pigs. They’ve also grabbed a crap-load of car radios and crossed out every JSB burner they’ve found. Oh yeah, and they wrecked Crazy Joe.”
“How come?” I laughed.
“They went and stole his car radio and he came out with a freakin’ machete. He still got wasted though.”
“Well good,” I nodded. “As long as they’re making life hell for the JSBs, I’m happy.”
We sat down and 20 minutes later Lance came in, panting.
“Edge,” He said in between taking deep breaths. “Those two guys have planted the stuff in the hangout.”
“Good,” I said, standing up. “Let’s move Saracens.”
Myself, Mouse and Big Jer headed out of the building, Lance showing us the way.
“Hey.” I said, getting the attention of the two Warriors.
“What’s up Edge?” The black Warrior said to me as the two of them turned to face us.
“Those rich kids are pretty much finished.” The one wearing the cowboy hat nodded.
“Yeah, thanks,” I replied. “You guys got a pretty heavy set. Y’know, we been thinking about inviting you in on this meeting Cyrus is holding; some serious stuff. Only the toughest crews will be there. I think the Warriors deserve it.” Mouse, Lance and Big Jer all nodded their agreement.
“We ain’t heard much about that,” The one in the Stetson said. “But we ain’t really on the Riffs’ network either. You think we can get in on it, huh? We been making some waves on the streets lately; got a pretty solid rep going now.”
“We’ll see Warrior,” I nodded. “The Saracens’ll back you up and we got a fair bit of pull with the Gramercy Riffs. So maybe man, I hope, for your sake. Who knows what the streets’ll be like after this.”
“Solid man, we appreciate it.” The cowboy replied.
Myself and my Saracens turned and walked off.
“That went well.” Mouse said when we were out of earshot of the Warriors.
“Sure did.” I said with a smile on my face.
Last edited by Dud on Sun Sep 06, 2009 5:47 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Dud
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Re: The Saracens' Story

Postby Dud » Sun Sep 06, 2009 5:51 pm

Part one of five involving the meeting. Enjoy.  8)




July 12, 1979
9:38 pm


Mouse and I sat deciding who we were taking to the meeting. It was still on, and we were going.
“We’re allowed to take nine,” I told Mouse for the seventh time. “Me and you are going, obviously; that leaves seven.”
“Okay,” Mouse nodded. “How about Snake, Arson and Petey?”
“Yeah, Big Jer is coming too. How many is that... three more?”
“Yeah,” Mouse nodded again. “I’d say Clemo, Daz and... the little guy who tags.”
“Little Jer, Big Jer’s brother?”
“Yes, him.”
“Okay,” I jumped up onto the couch and clapped for attention. “Listen up guys, here’s who will be accompanying me up to the Bronx; step over here when your name is called. Mouse is my second-in-command, if anything happens to me, he’s in charge. After that, we’ve got Snakefingers, Petey, Arson, Big Jer, Clemo, Da-”
I was interrupted as Big Jer nudged me in the ribs. I bent down and he whispered in my ear.
“I don’t want the little one coming out with us tonight,” He said seriously. “If anything were to happen to him...”
“It’s okay,” I nodded reassuring. “He won’t go if you don’t want him to.”
“Thanks man.”
“Anyway,” I cleared my throat. “Clemo, Daz and finally, Skipper.”
They all came over and either sat down or stood patiently as I walked over to Little Jer.
“Hey man, why aren’t I going?” He asked before I got the chance to say anything.
“Look,” I said, putting my arms out in front of myself in an apologetic way. “You know how highly I think about you, but this is just for your safety. I know there’s a truce on, but you never know what’s gonna happen out there.”
“It’s my brother isn’t it?” He said bitterly. “He doesn’t want me to go.”
“No, it’s my choice,” I lied, making sure my old buddy didn’t get into any trouble. I then proceeded to call Lance over, and addressed the two of them together. “Now, you two are in charge until we get back. It may be late tonight, or at the absolute maximum tomorrow morning. Nothing needs doing, the joint has shut down and the JSBs should be quiet. With Knox out of the way and most of their best solders at this meeting, you shouldn’t get any trouble from them. Understand?”
“Sure thing, boss.” Lance said, nodding a lot more than he needed to.
“What about you?” I asked Little Jer.
“Yeah, whatever.” He replied, looking at the floor.
I held my tongue and shook my head as I walked away.
“How’s he taken it?” Big Jer asked as I collapsed on one of the battered sofas.
“Not well,” I shook my head. “I thought the fact I’ve put him in charge for the night would’ve softened the blow, but he’s really taken it to heart. He suspected you instantly.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “But I didn’t tell him it was you.”
“Thanks man.”
“No worries.” I shook my head, as though it meant nothing after all these years of friendship.
“I think it’s time we should be moving, Edge.” Mouse jolted me back from my thoughts.
“Yeah,” I said, standing up. “Nobody packed?”
My fellow eight delegates all shook their heads, and I nodded, satisfied.
“Then let’s move.”
The trip to the station was an uneventful one, everyone seemed a little anxious of this meeting, and when we got on to the train Petey tried to start some conversation a little while into the journey:
“I got an idea,” He piped up, everyone else’s heads instantly turning to him. “How about we all say how we got our nicknames? Mine’s pretty simple, it’s my name.”
“Mine’s pretty obvious, I guess,” Arson said, pulling out a cheap lighter and flicking it on and off several times. “I like fire.”
“My name’s Darren.” Daz shrugged.
“Had mine since forever,” Clemo said. “It’s ‘cuz my surname is Clemens. I never liked being called by my first name.”
A silence then followed; nobody wanted to ask Clemo his name, but no-one knew if he was going to tell us.
“Mine was kinda a joke at first, I mean, I’m the exact opposite of a mouse,” Mouse broke the awkward silence. “But eventually it grew on me.”
“I got fast hands.” Snakefingers said quite quickly.
“I’m called Skipper because I was captain of the high school football team.” Skipper said with a bit of pride clear in his voice.
“I’m big, and my name’s Jerry.” Big Jer said.
“Is your brother’s name Jerry too?” Daz asked, lifting his head up again.
“Nah, his real name’s Andrew,” Jerry explained. “It was just that everyone knew who I was, and I wanted to make sure that everyone knew that if they messed with my brother they were messing with Big Jer’s brother.”
“Makes sense,” Daz nodded. “What about you Warlord, why Edge?”
“In high school everyone used to say I was like a knife edge, because if you were gonna mess with me you were gonna get hurt. Eventually it became a nickname...”
“That was too long a nickname though,” Big Jer interrupted. “But we didn’t want to call him knife; that sounded weird.”
“So we ended up calling him Edge.” Petey finished, and the three of us shared a smirk, before falling into that silence again.
Dud
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Re: The Saracens' Story

Postby Dud » Mon Sep 07, 2009 3:51 pm

Part two, which was a bitch to write because of the speech.  :p

Enjoy.  8)




July 12, 1979
11:21 pm


I cautiously looked around us at the other gangs, namely the Jones Street Boys, who were practically sat next to us.
“Man, how long ‘til this gets started?” Skipper said, a little anxiously.
“Relax,” I told him, still looking around. “It happens when it happens.”
“Yeah, right,” Skipper nodded. “I just don’t like being cramped here with gangs on every side of me.”
“There’s a truce on,” I said reassuringly. “Nothing’s gonna go down.”
“Can you count suckers?” A voice boomed out. “I say the future is ours, if you can count.”
“Now look at what we have here before us. We have the Saracens, sitting next to the Jones Street Boys.” I smirked at our mention. “We have the Moonrunners, right by the Van Cortlandt Rangers. Nobody is wasting nobody. That is a miracle... and miracles are the way things ought to be.”
Cyrus appeared on top of a wooden structure. “You’re standing right now with 9 delegates, from a hundred gangs, and there’s over hundred more. That’s 20,000 hardcore members... 40,000 counting affiliates... and 20,000 more not organized but ready to fight. 60,000 soldiers. Now there ain’t but 20,000 police in the whole town, can you dig it?” A small cheer came from the crowd.
“Can you dig it?” A louder cheer came this time, with some of my guys joining in.
“Can you dig it?” Louder.
“Can you dig it?” And louder; if this place had a roof, it would’ve been blown off by now.
“Now here’s the sum total: one gang could run this city, one gang. Nothing would move, without us allowing it to happen. We could take the crime syndicates, the police, because we got the streets suckers! Can you dig it?” Another loud cheer came from the crowd around me. “The problem in the past has been the man turning us against one another. We have been unable to see the truth, because we have been fighting for ten square feet of ground; our turf, our little piece of turf. That’s crap brothers. The turf is ours by right, because it’s our turf. All we have to do is keep us the general truce. We take over one borough at a time. Secure our territory; secure our turf. Because it’s all our turf!”
The next part happened in slow motion. There were many, many soldiers stood here; grown men yelling at the top of their lungs, yet the gunshot rose above all of that. Cyrus’ eyes opened wide in shock as blood spurted from the wound in his back. He gulped once and then fell backwards onto the floor, before being crowded by his loyal Riffs. Pandemonium then followed; the cops appeared, the lights flashed on and every guy with half-a-brain ran. All except the Saracens.
“Stay here,” I commanded them. “Don’t want you getting lost or-”
“Hey boss,” Clemo called from the left of me. “Should we help the Eliminators up?”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “Get Tracer and his guys up.”
We did, and I’ll hand it to my guys, they managed to keep their cool in quite a worrying situation.
“Let’s move,” I say, trying to remember where the nearest exit was. “Stay close.”
I lead my Saracens and Tracer and his Eliminators towards the nearest exit, but that was blocked off by two cops. I took one look at Mouse on my right and we simultaneously floored the pigs. I headbutted one, and Mouse hit the other with an impressive left-right combo. Our posse climbed over the knocked-out pigs’ bodies and headed deep into the area surrounding Van Cortlandt Park. We found a nearby station and got against a nearby wall.
“Thanks man.” Tracer edged up to me.
“No worries,” I shook my head. “Get your guys and take them across to the other side of this street.”
He nodded and they moved quickly and efficiently.
“I hope we don’t walk home with those guys,” Mouse said quite loudly. “Those jackets will give us away from miles around.”
“If anything,” An Eliminator, who must’ve heard Mouse, called back. “They’ll see your fat ass before anything else.”
“Come over here and say that, chicken.” My second-in-command replied.
“No way man, I don’t wanna get squished.” A few Eliminators laughed, and Mouse lunged for the Eliminator. Thankfully, however, Snakefingers and Big Jer each grabbed an arm and hauled him back.
“Knock it off.” I said sharply as a train pulled up to the station opposite. A few of the guys tried heading towards the station but I put out my arm and stopped them.
“Not our train,” I said. “Wrong service.”
They got back against the wall and I nodded to Tracer as he took his Eliminators up onto the platform and into the subway car.
Just then the alley we were stood in slowly filled with red and blue lights and the nine of us simultaneously turned to see a cop patrol car coming to a stop. The two pigs got out and we all turned to run. We ran around the corner, me leading the pack, but then we came into contact with a quickly set-up blockade of two cars and four pigs. They must’ve seen the Eliminators get on and realised a few gangs would’ve been getting on the train here.
“This way,” I panted, leading the group nowhere in particular. “Stay together; don’t get separated.”
We were being tailed by a half-dozen cops, and I had no doubt there would be patrolling the streets, so I pulled my guys into an abandoned warehouse and slammed the door shut, hoping that the bang wouldn’t make it obvious where we were.
“What are we gonna do?” Mouse asked me.
“Wait,” I shook my head. “Nothing else we can do.”
A few of the guys sat down to wait, but the more anxious ones stayed on their feet and had a look around the warehouse.
“Don’t go too far,” I called to them. “We may be leaving soon.”
“Sooner than you might expect,” Replied Daz with nothing more than happiness in his voice. “Come check this out.”
We went to where Daz was calling from, and there was a second exit leading out onto the alley behind the one where we lost the cops.
“Well I’ll be damned.” Muttered Mouse.
I opened the door and looked both ways before ushering my soldiers out. We slowly made out way up to the main street and eyed the subway station only 30 feet down the road. We began walking, keeping close to the wall.
“FREEZE!” Came the yell from behind us, and the nine of us instantly broke into a sprint.
I cast one look over my shoulder to see four cops on our tail, but we managed to get away from them and make it onto the platform. A train had pulled up whilst we were in the warehouse and we quickly jumped on, before slamming the door behind us.
“Ha-ha, try and catch us now assholes!” Mouse yelled at them, flicking them the bird. They merely looked back with very sour faces.
“Well, another hour and we’ll be back in Bensonhurst,” I said, bringing happy but tired smiles from everyone. “Still, what the hell happened back there?”
Dud
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Re: The Saracens' Story

Postby Dud » Tue Sep 08, 2009 2:47 pm

Part three.

Hope you guys are liking this thus far.  :D




July 13, 1979
12:19 am


July 12 ran into the early hours of July 13, and our train ran into the next station. Not our stop, but an interesting message then came over the PA system:
“Ladies and gentlemen,” A polite man said. “Over the course of the next few stops the New York Police Department will be passing through the train. Please remain calm and remain seated during this perfectly normal search.”
“Perfectly normal my ass,” Moaned Snakefingers. “They’re looking for gangs.”
“We better get off then.” I said, leading my Saracens off the train.
We climbed off and took a seat on a bench on the platform. I checked out the sign above the platform: Pacific St. Station. I nudged Daz, who was sat just to the left of me, and nodded at the sign.
“Give us the lowdown.” I said.
“Right,” He nodded. “Well right now we’re pretty close to the centre of Brooklyn, surrounded mostly by small neighbourhoods.”
“Okay,” It was my turn to nod. “Any major threats in these neighbourhoods?”
“Well, closest gang would probably be the Howitzers, not a big outfit, but big enough to be at the meeting for sure. They’d probably stop by this station on the way to Bedford-Stuyvesant, their turf.” 
“Yeah,” I nodded again. “Well they’ve got no point of getting off here have they?”
Just then a train pulled up and nine guys, all wearing camouflage jackets and red berets climbed off.
“I told you this was the wrong train.” One of them said, pushing another one.
I looked at Daz and he nodded back. These were the Howitzers; all of my Saracens instantly became alert and kept their eyes on the all-black gang as they walked towards us. They stopped in front of us, and one of them stepped forward, one of the biggest Howitzers, possibly the leader.
“Well, well, well,” He said, smirking. “Look at what we got here, it’s those Bensonhurst rejects. Say, I bet you’re too pus-”
He didn’t finish his sentence as I sprung up from my seating position and connected with a nose-shattering headbutt. He fell back onto the floor as several Saracens and Howitzers were sprayed with his blood. The other eight guys followed my lead, jumping up and attacking the Howitzers. I straddled the guy I had headbutted and gave him a few hard punches to make sure he wasn’t getting up, before climbing to my feet and grabbing a big guy Petey was struggling to put down from behind. I bent him over and Petey delivered a strong knee to the head, dropping the Howitzer as more blood sprayed onto the floor and walls. I turned around with my fists clenched but we had cleaned house; not one Howitzer remained.
“We better not hang around,” I said, quickly heading towards the train our opponents had just got off. “I’m sure the pigs are patrolling these stations too.”
We climbed on and settled down into the seats which I suppose The Howitzers could have just been sitting in.
“Almost there.” Big Jer said with a smile. A smile we all joined him in.
We arrived at Bay Parkway around 20 minutes later. We climbed off and stretched as we headed back to the hangout. We went in and collapsed on the nearest thing we could find. Lance came over and greeted us, telling us that we had missed nothing in our absence.
“I’m gonna go find the little guy.” Big Jer said, referring to Little Jer.
“Guys, it’s all been on the radio,” Lance said excitedly. “That guy getting shot, loads of other guys getting busted too. Everyone’s out looking for some guys called the Warriors.”
“You’re kidding me?” I said. “The Warriors?”
“Those dirty little pricks.” Mouse said, slamming his right fist into his left palm.
“Nah man, that can’t be right.” I shook my head.
“How’s this gonna look? We got the guys who shot Cyrus into the meeting.”
“Just be quiet for a minute,” I snapped. “It can’t have been them.”
“Why not?”
“Because...”
“Because what? You’ve spoken to what, three of their members? Face it Edge, we’re in the shi-”
“Guys,” Big Jer came over and interrupted Mouse. “Where’s Little Jer?”
“Is he not back yet?” Lance turned to look at him. “He went out earlier.”
“When?” Big Jer sounded quite impatient.
“Not long after you guys.”
Dud
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Re: The Saracens' Story

Postby Dud » Wed Sep 09, 2009 2:47 pm

Oh my, Little Jer's gone missing!  :shock:




July 13, 1979
12:51 am


Big Jer and I stood away from everyone else. I was leant against the wall, Jerry was pacing in front of me.
“Damn it!” He shouted, turning towards the wall and punching it, sending dust up into the air. A few guys turned to look at what was happening, but I shot them a look that said ‘This has nothing to do with you.’
“We’re gonna go look for him, right Edge?” Jer asked me after he had calmed down a little.
“Yeah,” I nodded. “But not right now.”
“What?”
“Jerry, I know it’s your brother, but there are cops and gangs all over the place. Little Jer knows how to handle himself. Right now we’re gonna relax and let all this stuff die down, then if he’s not back by morning I’ll get in touch with the Riffs.”
“Screw that,” Big Jer shook his head. “Look Edge, I know you and me go way back, but I’m not gonna sit here whilst my little brother is walking around the Bronx. Did you hear what Cyrus said? 20,000 cops and 60,000 soldiers, Edge. If we don’t find him quick, he’s gonna be wasted or banged up.”
“What makes you think he’s headed to the Bronx?” I asked.
“That’s what he’s like isn’t it?” Jerry shook his head again. “He obviously was trying to catch us up, but by the time he had got to Van Cortlandt Park, all hell would’ve broken loose. That’s why I need to go find him.”
He turned to walk off, but I grabbed hold of his arm.
“What the hell? Let me go Edge.”
“No,” I said. “You’ll just end up getting wasted or caught by the pigs, you’re not thinking straight.”
“Well let me take a Warparty.”
“No,” I said again. “I’m not risking my soldiers; not tonight. Tomorrow morning.”
He pulled his arm from my grasp and walked off, pushing open the doors with force.  I considered going after him, but Petey appeared by my side.
“Let him go,” He said reassuringly. “He can handle himself.”
“I’m just worried about his brother, Pete.” I said, as he disappeared from my sight.
Dud
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Re: The Saracens' Story

Postby Dud » Thu Sep 10, 2009 4:06 pm

This chapter's a personal favourite of mine; hopefully you like it too.  8)

Also, it's just occurred to me that yesterday was my twentieth chapter. I'm quite happy the story has got this far and thank everyone for their support thus far. All I can say is keep reading, and keep enjoying.  :D




July 13, 1979
2:09 pm


“Morning.” Daz said as he walked in with a cup of coffee. He nodded to a few young bloods, before taking a seat next to me on the battered brown couch.
“It’s afternoon,” I muttered. “But hey, anyway.”
“Been up all night?” He asked.
“Yeah,” I nodded. “Was keeping up with all this stuff regarding Cyrus; it wasn’t the Warriors.”
“It wasn’t?” Daz replied, before taking a sip of coffee and blowing it to cool it down.
“No,” I shook my head. “It was the Rogues. The Warriors just took the heat.”
“Yeah, I know about the Rogues,” Daz nodded. “Hell’s Kitchen outfit; their leader’s a crazy son-of-a-bitch.”
“Yeah, but Masai and his Riffs caught up with him, so I guess the Rogues are gonna be nine men down today,” I said. “Hey, those Warriors did pretty good last night. They managed to beat the Turnbulls, Furies, Orphans, Punks, Lizzies and the Rogues.”
“That’s some pretty heavy stuff,” Daz said with an approving nod. “Heard anything about the Jers?”
“I got someone to get in touch with the Riffs a few hours back. They said they’d be on the lookout but the little one was most likely gonna either be in the cells or a morgue.”
“That’s pretty morbid.” Daz raised his eyebrows.
“Yeah,” I nodded then lowered my voice. “But I think they may be onto something.”
Daz said nothing but gave a slow nod. “Where are the rest of the guys, anyway?”
“No idea,” I shrugged. “But I don’t expect them to be around until tonight. It was a long day yesterday. Where’s Clemo?”
“Dead to the world,” Daz laughed. “I tried to wake him up this morning, and he told me to beat it.”
“I’m sure it was a little more explicit than that.” I smiled back, and Daz laughed.
“Yo.” Arson said, collapsing down on the couch opposite.
“Hey Arson,” Daz said. “How you doing?”
“Not bad man,” Arson nodded, before breaking into a yawn. “Pretty tired though. Hey, did you know there was someone on the roof?”
“Really?” I said, frowning.
“Yeah, no kidding,” He said, standing up. “C’mon, I’ll show you.”
Arson, Daz and I headed up the stairs leading up to the metal door leading out onto the roof. We opened the door and I instantly spotted Big Jer huddled in the corner, his head buried in his knees.
“You guys stay here, don’t let anyone else up.” I told Daz and Arson, who both nodded.
I walked over to Big Jer and sat down next to him.
“I’m not gonna find him, am I?” Jer looked up at me, and it looked as though he had been crying.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I rang up the Riffs earlier and they’re gonna keep an eye out for him.”
“He’s been out there about 14 hours,” Jer sobbed. “We were back within four.”
“Maybe he just found a nice motel to stay in.”
“He doesn’t have any money.” Jer shook his head.
“Look, Jerry, you can’t think bad things, man. Go home and have a rest, have a nice long sleep. That’s what everyone else is doing, and by the time you’ve woken back up I’m sure he’ll be sat in the hangout with us, telling us what happened to him,” I stood up and offered him my hand. “Now come on.”
He accepted it, and I put my arm around him as we walked back towards the door, Daz and Arson heading down before us. We got down into the main hangout and anyone who gave Jer any more than a quick glance was given a dark look from either me or the two others.
“Want me to walk you home?” I asked.
“No,” He replied, wiping his eyes. “I’ll be okay. Thanks Edge.”
“You okay man?” Daz came over and asked me.
“Yeah, it’s just... the only person Jer has is his younger brother, if Little Jer was never found, then...”
“It’s okay boss,” Daz nodded. “He’s got us.”
Dud
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Re: The Saracens' Story

Postby Dud » Fri Sep 11, 2009 3:50 pm

This is sorta kicking off the next storyline. Enjoy.  8)




July 21, 1979
8:47 pm


It had been over a week since the meeting, but there was still no sign of Little Jer. Big Jer was only coming in for a few minutes every day to check up on the situation, but no-one called him a traitor or accused him of turning his back on the gang; everyone knew they’d be in the same way if it were their little brother missing.
Nothing major had happened over the last week, even the JSBs had quietened down a little. Myself, Clemo and Skipper were sat on a couch each, whilst quite a few of the other guys were drinking cheap beer and playing cards; every so often a cry of laughter went up as someone made an ass of themselves.

‘Alright now, it seems like everyone has recovered from the meeting, as we’ve got some reports coming in from Queens that the Knockdowns steamed over a poor showing from the Boyle Avenue Runners. C’mon babies, if you continue like this pretty soon Boyle Avenue is going to be red, green and white. Brooklyn’s been pretty busy too, as the Warriors managed to keep up their good form and send the Punks back to the Bowery with their tails between their legs. That smaller clique the Howitzers have also promised us they are going to be making some moves over there pretty soon, so keep an eye out for that Bed-Stuy clique.’

“The Howitzers,” Skipper said thoughtfully. “Ain’t those the guys who we beat in the train station?”
“Yeah, that’s them,” I nodded, and then laughed. “Big moves... we were 9-0 when we went up against those guys.”
The other two nodded and shared my laugh, but then we fell into a silence as music droned on from the radio.
“Edge,” Mouse came through the doorway. “Me and Snake caught sight of some guys dropping their colours.”
I was quite surprised earlier when Mouse and Snakefingers volunteered to watch our street, but I guess that showed just how bored some of the guys were getting.
I called Daz over, and nodded at Mouse to continue telling us what was happening.
“Around 30 soldiers, all decked out in jeans and black tops.”
“Packed?” I asked him.
“Some of them, yes,” He nodded. “Baseball bats, crowbars, the usual crap.”
“Daz,” I said, turning towards him. “This sound familiar to you?”
“A lot of gangs wear those threads, but I may be able to tell you when we get down there.” He shrugged.
I looked around the hangout, and noticed we could probably send around half of the guys out and leave the other half watching the warehouse.
“Guys, let’s move, we got some punks to mess up!” I yelled. “Only come if you’ve not been drinking.”
That cut about half of the guys out of the equation, and as Mouse, Snakefingers and I lead our soldiers down to where Mouse and Snake said they had spotted the guys, I estimated we had around 35 or 40 boys down. A common misconception about gangs is that, when you’re a member, you have to spend 24 hours a day; seven days a week in the hangout. Some guys were out doing scouting missions for me, and others were just at a club or strip joint. If I had everyone with me, I would’ve had in excess of 200 soldiers following me.
“Where are these guys?” Arson asked from the back, as I heard his lighter click on.
I didn’t respond but shook my head. I heard a bottle smash around the corner and told my soldiers to be quiet as we followed the noise. We got around the corner, but there were only a few bums sitting around a fire.
Suddenly a scuffle broke out at the back of the group - we had been tricked! It was a group of around 20 Jones Street Boys, all packed. As everyone else fought against the JSBs, Mouse and I hung back.
“Where are the other gang?” I said urgently.
“Diversion!” We said in unison.
“Guys, back to the hangout!” I yelled. “Fall back!”
Mouse and I turned and sprinted back to the warehouse, crossing my fingers that the rest of the guys had heard me.
“Goddamnit!” Mouse muttered upon seeing the hangout from the end of Main Street. It was in flames. In front of the building figures fought amongst themselves. That’s where the other gang was. We continued running until we got back to the hangout and we piled into the brawl. I was happy to see all of my soldiers had followed me, but so had the JSBs. 70 Saracens vs. around 50 JSBs and this unidentified gang. I dived into the fight, throwing a punch at one of these other guys, before headbutting another and taking his baseball bat.
“Gladiators!” I heard Daz yell as he appeared at the side of me. “Canarsie outfit.”
“Not a great time Daz.” I said, hitting another Gladiator in the ribs with the bat. Daz nodded and got stuck into the fight. A JSB came at me and caught me by surprise with a lead pipe, knocking me down to one knee. I managed to keep my composure, however, and grabbed the guy with my left hand, before hitting him with a hard right into the solar plexus. He doubled over, winded, so I jumped up and let momentum throw my knee into his face; the power of the knee causing excessive amounts of blood to spurt from his nose and lips. A huge hand then hit me from behind and I went down. A few boots went in on me, but it wasn’t long before the JSB kicking me was grabbed from behind by another Saracen who I didn’t realise. The Caucasian who had just helped me offered me a hand and I gratefully accepted it, before diving straight back into the action. A lot of the JSBs and Gladiators had been wrecked, and the fight was slowly coming to an end as many of the small skirmishes were now two- or three-on-one in our favour - although we were down by roughly 30 soldiers. I ran through the fights grabbing half-a-dozen of my closest lieutenants, before rushing back to the hangout.
The place was a wreck, there were flames everywhere.
“Fan out!” I yelled. “Make sure nobody’s in here!”
I battled through the flames as my soldiers spread out and did the same. I found no-one, and headed back outside to meet up with the rest of the guys. The only thing that had been salvaged was the radio. The fight had drawn to a close with us the unanimous victors. As I stood in front of our burning hangout, every other Saracen who had been involved in the fight came and stood next to or behind me as we watched it burn to the ground. Mouse put his hand on my shoulder.
“Thank God everyone managed to get out,” I said, before lifting my head up as I heard sirens in the distance. “We better get going.”
“But to where?” Asked a soldier from behind me.
I didn’t answer him; I didn’t know the answer.
Dud
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Re: The Saracens' Story

Postby Dud » Sat Sep 12, 2009 4:18 pm

Next chapter. Hope you like it.  8)




July 28, 1979
6:07 pm


We managed to find a new place pretty easily; Bensonhurst was a pretty big neighbourhood. We found an abandoned warehouse just a few blocks north from Main. It put us further away from our shops and the JSBs, so I stepped up security. I now had pairs of guys at each end of Main Street, as well as a pair at every subway station around-the-clock. Still, life continued as normal; me and Lance were getting ready to take three guys down to SoHo to watch over a dance competition the Electric Eliminators had set up. I looked over the three guys stood in front of me.
“Ready to go, guys?”
“Sure, boss.” The biggest, a black guy called Jackson said.
The other two, one a white guy going by the name of Murphy, and the other a black guy named Wilson, nodded seriously.
“Relax,” I said with a smirk. “This is gonna be a pretty easy first mission.”
The two nodded again, with the same serious expression. Guess they were just a little nervous. I turned and began to walk out of the hangout, as Lance appeared at the side of me.
“Why have these guys decided they suddenly want some muscle?” He asked.
“Some Warriors went down and wrecked everyone there a few days back,” I explained. “They wanna make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“I thought we were cool with the Warriors?”
“We still are,” I shrugged. “It was Tracer’s fault; he went soldiering down to Coney trying to make a name for the Eliminators.”
The conversation ceased there and we climbed onto the train, passing some of our guys as we did so. The train ride to SoHo passed without incident, except for a change we made at Union Square. We arrived in SoHo and quickly headed up to the basketball court Tracer had taken over for the dance-off. I walked in and looked around; some Boppers in their shiny purple vests, some Moonrunners in their silver vests, some Gun Hill Dancers, and even some Savage Huns had turned up. I found Tracer among the crowd and gave him a nod, before briefing my Saracens.
“Right, I want one of you in every corner; I’ll take the entrance here.” I said, and they all nodded before spreading out.
The dance-off passed without incident, and in the end the Boppers came away with the victory. Everyone quietly headed off back to their own turf and as my Saracens regrouped Tracer came over.
“Quiet one tonight.” He said.
“Look,” I replied. “Just be careful who you mess with, Tracer, we ain’t gonna be able to do this every time to hold one of these.”
“I know man,” Tracer nodded. “I am thankful that you do it.”
I nodded and me and my Saracens turned and walked off.
We got off our train at Union Station and saw that we had a little while to wait before the train to Bay Parkway came in.
“Come on,” I said, turning away. “Let’s go wait on the platform.”
I walked with Murphy and Wilson, whilst Lance and Jackson walked a little in front of us.
“So, was it good to get out on the streets?” I said to the guys, but before they could reply Lance and Jackson were bundled into a side room by some guys in overalls.
“It’s the Punks,” I muttered. “C’mon, we’ve got some wrecking to do.”
We headed into the side room - which was actually a toilet - and rushed to help out Lance and Jackson, who were on the floor and getting kicked by a half-dozen Punks. I knocked one Punk down with a hard right, and then turned when I heard the door slam to see two more Punks coming at us. 8-on-5, it was possible. I turned to the two oncoming Punks and threw a headbutt at one, before hitting the other with a jab to the gut. He doubled over, and I hit him with a knee to the jaw, putting him out for the count. I got grabbed from behind by another Punk and the Punk I had just headbutted slowly got to his feet. He walked over to me cockily, but I threw both feet up and kicked him in the face. He fell back, knocked out, and the Punk who had hold of me soon joined him on the floor. I swung my elbow back to catch him in the ribs, and he let go ever-so-slightly. I took this opportunity to get out of his hold and spin around, throwing a right hook in the process.  5-on-4; I had wasted three Punks and Wilson had gone down. Murphy looked to be in a tight spot; two Punks had cornered him in a cubicle and were beating on him. I span both guys around, but before I could throw a punch, both Punks kicked me in the stomach. I fell back, but suddenly Jackson appeared at my side. Doing the math I realised only Lance was left fighting a Punk, and a very quick look behind me confirmed this. Me and Jackson rushed into the cubicle, dishing out punches to the two Punks. I dragged one out and slammed him against the wall as Jackson finished off the Punk in the cubicle and helped Murphy out. Lance had finished off his Punk too, and was stood, bent-over, trying to catch his breath. I gave Wilson a hand up.
“Good job guys,” I nodded. “Now let’s go grab this train.”
Dud
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Re: The Saracens' Story

Postby Dud » Sun Sep 13, 2009 2:57 pm

If you read my story Rex's Epiphany a few months back, this bit will be familiar to you.  8)




August 1, 1979
10:43 pm


I was stood in front of Mouse, Petey, Arson, Clemo and Skipper; we were down in Gun Hill at a pre-arranged brawl between the Turnbulls and the Warriors. Whilst me and the guys had been fighting the Punks the other day, Swan had got in touch and asked we came down. The crowd jostled around us, and I eyed up any potential threats. Suddenly I got a tap on the shoulder from Mouse; the Warriors were here.
“Thanks for coming Edge; we don’t know how heavy this is gonna get with all these other cliques.” Swan said to me
“Don’t worry about it Warrior, we still appreciate the fact that you took down the Jones Street Boys.”
“Any JSBs here tonight?” He asked, craning his neck to look around.
“Nah man. The JSBs have slowly begun falling apart since the meeting. Without Knox they’re just a bunch of guys looking for a fight. We’re slowly taking Bensonhurst.” I lied, knowing that he needed to be on his game to take on the Turnbulls.
“Good to hear man,” Swan said with a nod. “Say, any Riffs down here tonight?”
“This isn’t a Riffs-authenticated brawl, Warrior. You think Masai would let you guys fight?”
“Suppose not,” Swan said with a shrug. “We better get in there. Catch you later Edge.”
I nodded at Swan, and again nodded at the rest of the Warriors that walked past. Once the Warriors were inside the pen, an AC said something from the top of a construction building, before nine Turnbulls jumped down from different directions. The Warriors charged out into them and attacked. It was a vicious brawl, with boots and heads going in just as much as fists. In the end though, the Warriors came away the victors. They came out of the pen and gave us quick goodbye before heading off. Back in the pen the Turnbulls were dishing out a beating to some poor sucker, and some brawls started in the groups around us. Some Hi-Hats and some Hurricanes had started pushing each other on one side, whilst on the other some Baseball Furies were beating down on some poor clique who I think were the Black Hands, due to the black handprint on each of the members’ white vests. A guy from some gang I didn’t recognize, wearing a purple vest on top of a red shirt, fell into Mouse, and my second-in-command gave him a hard shove.
“Let’s move.” I said.
We turned to walk away, but two Warriors bumped into me.
“Hey Edge. You seen one of us back there?” Swan asked across the heads of the group.
“Nah. And I wouldn’t suggest going back there, that’s got pretty heavy. All the gangs are brawling now.”
“Oh hell no!” One of the Warriors said, brushing past me and breaking into a run.
“Rex!” The Warriors shouted, before chasing after him.
I thought about going back to help out, but I figured it wasn’t our business, and lead our guys back to the subway station before any other gangs caught us up.
An hour later we jumped off the train at Bay Parkway and headed back to the hangout. We got in and as the rest of the guys spread out, I was met with a very serious looking Snakefingers.
“We’ve had some news about Little Jer.”
Dud
Rank: Warrior
 
Posts: 311
Joined: Sun May 10, 2009 6:45 pm
Location: England

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