My name is Tiger. I?m a soldier of the night. I am a member of one of the most famous gangs in the whole United States, The Warriors. I?m not American, I?m British. I?m also not a strong soldier; I?m a newblood, a rookie. I was out in the cold, hungry, thirsty and soaked and being chased by the Turnbull A.C.s. I thought I was going to die. That?s when?that?s when they came. Like heroic avengers from out of the shadows, The Warriors came to my rescue. The battle was quick and soon, the Turnbulls had fled back towards Gunhill. God only knows what they were doing this far away from the Bronx. Anyway, I looked up, my athletic yet now frail body aching all over, and I saw Swan?s kind face as he knelt down and offered his hand.
?Are you all right kid?? he asked. I tried to speak, but Rembrandt, a good friend of mine, tells me I passed out. I must have been weaker than I thought I was. I awoke in the gang?s hideout a while later and before I knew it, I was one of them.
I?m probably one of the smallest members of The Warriors even though I?m not one of the youngest. My body is a tad thin but relatively athletic, I have blue eyes and my hair is dark auburn, reaching down to my shoulders. It?s the auburn that got me the nickname ?Tiger,? which is now my identity among the clique. Like all The Warriors, I wear the red waistcoat, denim jeans and dark boots that represent our colours, but I like to customise my look by wearing a short, red, silk scarf I stole and a dirty orange baseball cap.
There are three names I hear whispered amongst the older members on a near-regular basis; Cleon, Ajax and Fox. I know Cleon was Warlord before Swan and that he died shortly before ?The Big Alert,? but the other details are fuzzy to me. I like to know things; that?s why I like to read so much. I have a few novels tucked away in my room in the hideout. Lord of the Rings, Of Mice and Men and even a few Stephen King books. In all honesty, I?d like to write a book myself someday, and in my spare time I jot down small stories based on my gang experiences, though I make sure not to let slip any details that could get us into trouble.
Anyway, you more or less know the basics of my character now. I?m one of many newbloods who could be telling this story, but I?m the one who is. This is my story. This is the story of me fighting alongside those I consider my friends and family; a real family that I can be on equal terms with.
My name is Tiger. I?m a Warrior.
"There is no reason to think a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens cannot change the world; indeed, that's the only thing that ever has."
-Margaret Mead
Snow checked his watch for the third time that hour. He, Cochise, Rembrandt, Mercy and a couple of newbloods were awaiting the arrival of Swan at the train station. Mercy had since become an active part of The Warriors and due to her relationship with Swan she was referred to as the ?First Lady.? The Warchief watched the abyss above him with inhuman patience.
?What is taking that man so long?? Mercy growled.
?Patience Mercy,? said Snow. ?Swan will be here. I know it. You know it. So relax.?
Mercy frowned. She was still prone to wearing pink tops and dresses, although she now wore a Warriors waistcoat on top. Her once nearly flat chest had filled out a little as well.
Tiger, one of the newbloods, adjusted his baseball cap and looked around. He was also growing impatient. Where the hell was Swan? At that point, the Warlord made his entrance, stepping out of the shadows.
?You certainly took your time,? Mercy growled.
?Aw put a cork in it woman,? Swan shot back then looked at Snow.
?What?s the word Warlord?? Snow asked.
?A tagging competition,? replied Swan. ?The Eliminators, Panzers and Moonrunners will also be attending. Sculptor will be the referee. Rembrandt of course, is gonna represent The Warriors.?
?I?ll make you proud Swan,? Rembrandt piped up with a salute.
?I know you will Rem,? Swan nodded.
***
December 15th, 1980. 12:30AM. Pelham.
The Warriors, Panzers, Moonrunners and Electric Eliminators sat anxiously around a train yard. Sculptor, an African-American in shades, blue coveralls and a blue cap, stood on top of a pile of crates. A former gang fighter, Sculptor was respected by many cliques for his abilities, and his skills as a graffiti artist were legendary.
?All right everybody!? Sculptor called loudly so everyone could hear him clearly. ?By the terms laid down by the challenge, nobody here should be packing! I don?t want anybody flexing any muscles and I especially don?t want nobody getting hot! This is a peaceful competition, not a war! The first brother to get their tag on all four of the new trains will be declared the winner! The prize? Seven crates of beer donated by the hospitable Riffs and $100 in cash! Artists, start shaking!?
The four chosen artists lifted their spray cans and shook them to loosen up the paint inside.
?GO!?
Cheers rose from the gangs as the artists all ran towards the first of the new trains. Tiger waved his cap around in the air while shouting, ?COME ON REM! YOU CAN DO IT MATE!?
That?s when things decided to take a turn for the worst. A policeman on patrol had heard all the cheering and had alerted the rest of his squad. The police burst into the train yard, guns and batons ready, and they quickly surrounded the gangs.
The Warriors regrouped and watched the closing circle carefully.
?What are we going to do Warlord?? Tiger asked cautiously, clenching his fists. Swan was silent for a few seconds before giving us the war cry. ?WRECK ?EM ALL!?
Immediately, the gangs and police clashed in a powerful battle. Swan dealt a swinging punch to a cop with his knuckle dusters while Snow grabbed two more by the hair, slamming their heads together. Mercy grabbed a cop by the shoulders and kneed him in the ground before shoving him towards Cochise, who promptly floored him with a kick. Rembrandt sprayed paint in the face of another cop then punched him in the jaw, sending him towards the Moonrunners, who ended his career in a very gory fashion. Tiger and the other newblood, Cannon, each dealt a punch to the same cop in a double whammy fashion.
A cop came up behind Mercy, wrapping one arm around her waist and the other around her neck. ?SWAN!? she shouted. Swan turned around and growled.
?Get off my woman!? the Warlord shouted and charged forward. He moved with the speed of a cheetah, landing a punch on the cop?s face and forcing him to let go. Swan grabbed Mercy?s wrist and pulled her over to Tiger and Cannon.
?You newbloods get Mercy to safety,? he ordered. ?The rest of us will catch up when we?ve finished with these creeps.?
?Right,? Cannon nodded.
?And be careful,? Swan added before running back into the fray. Cannon looked at Tiger then grabbed Mercy?s wrist firmly but not painfully. ?Let?s go First Lady.?
Last edited by Scotty Rave on Sun Mar 05, 2006 7:07 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"There is no reason to think a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens cannot change the world; indeed, that's the only thing that ever has."
-Margaret Mead
1) The story's far from over.
2) Why is it perverted just to say Mercy's form filled out a bit? You get girls filling out in a lot of fanfics, that doesn't make it perverted.
"There is no reason to think a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens cannot change the world; indeed, that's the only thing that ever has."
-Margaret Mead
As the brawl continued to rage, Tiger and Cannon swiftly led Mercy towards the train station.
?Should we really go this far?? Tiger asked.
?Swan said to get Mercy to safety,? Cannon replied. ?The safest place for her is back in Coney, where we can be on our terms.?
?I suppose you?re right,? Tiger breathed. He looked at Mercy. ?Are you all right First Lady??
?I?m just fine,? replied Mercy. ?I?ll feel much safer when the others are with us and we?re all back in Coney.?
?That won?t be too long,? Cannon promised.
The trio entered the train station and jumped the barriers, making it onto the back carriage just before the door closed. Mercy collapsed into a chair, Tiger sitting opposite her. The British newblood used his cap to fan himself, panting for breath. Cannon remained standing, holding onto the handle above him.
***
December 15th, 1980. 1:30AM. Coney Island.
Upon their return to Coney, they learned that Snow, Cochise, Rembrandt and Swan had caught the next train, arriving safely on their home turf. The Warriors were soon relaxing in their hideout, recovering from the brutal fight. According to Cochise, Sculptor had made a clean getaway and the other gangs had probably held their own, though Snow argued that a couple of Moonrunners and an Eliminator were busted by the cops. Tiger and Cannon rejoined some other newbloods at one of the pool tables on the second floor of their hideout.
Cannon ran a finger through his curly, black hair then grabbed a beer from one of the crates, putting it to his lips. A bald African-American youth by the name of Jacker aimed his pool cue and struck the white ball, potting the blue. Tiger twirled his cap on the end of his index finger, watching the game. A few of the other newbloods as well as older members were gathered around a radio, listening to the latest news on the streets. The Panzers had apparently returned home only to immediately rumble with a new clique called The Angels. The brawl had ended in a draw and the two gangs had become allies.
?Hey, Tiger,? said a sweet, female voice. Tiger turned in its direction and smiled at what he saw. It was Cherub, a female Warrior who he had admired for a long time. Cherub was a shapely girl with blonde hair in a braid and big, blue eyes that Tiger could become lost in for hours. She wore a blue tube top under her waistcoat and blue high heels rather than boots or trainers.
?Oh, uh, hey, Cherub,? Tiger responded.
?How did everything go in Pelham?? Cherub asked. ?I heard there was trouble.?
?Nothing we couldn?t handle,? Tiger gave her a smile. ?Right Cannon??
?Right,? Cannon nodded.
?You weren?t hurt, were you?? Cherub continued to probe, obviously in worry.
?Nope,? Tiger replied. ?Cannon and I saved the First Lady while the Warlord, Warchief, Rembrandt and Cochise rumbled for a bit then caught the next train.?
Cherub rested her hand gently on Tiger?s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. He could smell the perfume on her skin. It smelled like cherries. Tiger was not sure exactly where Cherub could get cherry perfume; he guessed her pretty face hid a skilled thief. Perfume thieves had existed before?right?
Jacker approached the two. ?Hey,? he said, ?me and some of the others are gonna head out in a little while, you two wanna come with??
?Sure,? Cherub smiled. Tiger nodded in response.
"There is no reason to think a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens cannot change the world; indeed, that's the only thing that ever has."
-Margaret Mead
Ohh.. I think I've had an accident.. I'm serious man.. your story, I mean, it should be a novel.. don't lose this stuff man, save 'er in Microsoft word or something.
[img]http://i43.photobucket.com/albums/e357/Vermin_2_2/jigsawnewagain.jpg?t=1187719042[/img]
Jigsaw is down to: fight, lie, cheat, steal, earth ;)
Two children, a brother and sister, were running down one of the wider streets on Coney Island, surrounded by now closed stalls and rides. They were being pursued by one of the new small-time gangs, The Knuckle Dusters. The Knuckle Dusters were only in their late teens or early twenties and their colours were grey jackets and brown baseball caps. The Warlord?s cap was white. The two children had been running from them for about five or six minutes. Thankfully they were fast and had a head start.
The brother had brown hair in spikes and was dressed in a black T-shirt, jeans and white trainers. The sister had black hair down to her shoulders and was wearing a white blouse, a white skirt and plimsolls. Both children had green eyes. The brother seemed to be about 13 and the sister looked to be 10.
?F-F-Frankie, I?m getting tired,? the sister panted.
?Keep running Sally,? her brother grunted. ?We have to find The Warriors. It?s our only chance.?
Frankie turned a corner and bumped into something and Sally skidded to a halt. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw seven Warriors, one of them with his hands on her brother?s shoulders.
?Warriors!? Sally exclaimed. ?Thank goodness we found you!?
?What?s going on?? Jacker asked, not too happy about being bumped in the gut.
?We came to find you,? Sally exclaimed, ?then those men started chasing us.?
The Warriors tensed as The Knuckle Dusters came around the corner. Frankie stood in front of Jacker, glaring at the pursuers while Sally held onto him in fear. Cannon stepped towards the enemy Warlord. ?I don?t see your invitation.?
?Give us those kids,? demanded the Warlord.
?Why should we?? Cannon asked coolly. ?They can?t do any harm.?
?They marched right through our turf and came to you,? the Warlord sneered. ?Far as I?m concerned, you?re involved so the lot of you are gonna get japped.?
?You gonna back that up?? Cannon demanded. ?You and me, right here.?
?One-on-one? Fine,? the Warlord sneered.
The two gangs and the children began to step back as Cannon and the Warlord squared each other up. Cannon suddenly brought his fist up with all the thrust he could, cracking the Warlord?s jaw. The enemy staggered backwards. He glared at Cannon but all The Warriors could tell he no longer wanted to fight. The Knuckle Dusters stared at them silently for a few moments then ran away.
?Yeah run you chicken-shits!? shouted a quiff-sporting Puerto Rican newblood named Elvis. ?This is Warrior turf!?
?Cool it Elvis,? said Cannon. He looked at the two siblings. ?What?s going on??
Frankie looked up at him and sighed, ?We need your help.?
?Some men took our mom!? Sally exclaimed. ?They took her away to their hideout and we need to get her back!?
?Our cousin gets news off the street,? said Frankie. ?He said you Warriors were the best. Will you please help us??
?I don?t know,? Cannon replied with a frown. ?Swan won?t like this.?
?Fuck it, Swan don?t need to know,? Jacker shot in. ?Kids, these men who took your mom, what did they look like??
?Clowns,? Sally said simply. Cannon frowned and looked at his six companions.
?The Hi-Hats,? he deducted.
?We?d have to bop all the way to SoHo and back,? said Rodent, a newblood with an auburn Mohawk, green eyes and a spiked dog collar.
?If that?s what it takes, we?ll do it,? said Jacker.
?Who?s ?we??? Tiger inquired. ?I don?t remember agreeing to this.?
?I lost my mom and dad when I was their age,? said Jacker. ?I won?t let these kids suffer the same thing. Either you?re with me or ya?ll can wreck me.?
Tiger looked at Cherub, who looked at Rodent, who looked at Elvis, who looked at his friend Sting, who looked at Cannon. The leader of the little group rubbed his forehead and sighed. ?Okay,? he said, ?we?ll do it. I hope you all know Swan will kick our butts for this when we get back.?
"There is no reason to think a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens cannot change the world; indeed, that's the only thing that ever has."
-Margaret Mead
Tiger, Cannon, Cherub, Elvis, Jacker, Rodent, Sting, Frankie and Sally sat on a train as it headed away from Coney Island towards Union Square station. Once there, they planned to change trains and go the rest of the way to SoHo. Cannon kept asking why he agreed to this, but he went along with it. He just knew that Swan would find out and kick all their keesters for this. With a sigh, Cannon checked his watch.
December 15th, 1980. 2:30AM. Union Square Station.
The seven Warriors and the two children walked up a set of stairs and into the shopping complex of the station. The shops were all closed of course, as it was still the very wee hours of the morning. Unbeknownst to the travellers, they were being watched. Tiger was the last to walk past a sloped walkway and when he had apparently disappeared, a figure on roller skates emerged from hiding. His name was Rots, the Warlord of The Punks. Rots wore a yellow-and-black stripy shirt and denim dungarees. He had wavy, brown hair that hung around his face and blue eyes.
Rots skated around the corner but stayed a good distance away so The Warriors or the children would not notice him. Soon, the intruders came to another intersection between two walkways and seven more Punks began to step out from all sides. Rots smiled devilishly as he rolled to a stop and crossed his arms beside his Warchief, Sid. Sid was a tall, muscular fellow with fluffy, blonde hair and brown eyes. He wore the same dungarees as the Warlord along with a red shirt and black boots. All The Punks wore those dungarees and boots though their shirts alternated between yellow, red and blue.
?This isn?t good,? said Jacker as he took a defensive stance.
?We?re so gonna get japped here,? Rodent whined. Tiger frowned and performed several warm-up moves until settling into a karate position. He was by no means a black belt, but he had a respectable degree of the style which he would integrate into a self-taught custom martial art of his own.
?Rodent, Cherub,? said Cannon, ?you two get the kids to safety. We?ll deal with these barnyard fuckers and meet you outside.?
?Be careful,? Cherub said quietly. She looked at Tiger. The Warriors and The Punks charged at each other and in the confusion, Rodent and Cherub escaped with Frankie and Sally.
A Punk threw a punch at Jacker, who grabbed the attacker?s wrist and began to pound the Punk?s ribs before kicking him away. He then spun around and backhanded a second Punk.
Sting lifted up a plastic bin and poured the contents out on the floor before ramming it over the head of a third Punk. The enemy ran around in a panic, trying to see through the darkness before the terrible stink could knock him out. Elvis kicked the trapped soldier, flooring him hard.
Sid swung his foot through the air in a roundhouse kick. Tiger blocked with his forearm and used his free fist to punch Sid in the gut. He jabbed him twice in the gut then performed a powerful upward kick to his chin. Sid flew into the air and landed hard against a shop window, smashing it and setting off the alarm. A fifth Punk tossed a brick but Tiger dodged just in time and the brick slammed into the face of a sixth. The fifth gulped as Tiger jumped into the air and with a loud battle cry, performed a dragon kick. The fifth Punk whirled backwards and tripped over the fallen third Punk, landing on his back.
Cannon was fighting a seventh Punk and Rots at the same time. Rots had revealed a switchblade from the pouch of his dungarees and was trying to slash the leader of the ragtag group while the seventh was waving a lump of metal. Cannon grabbed the wrist of the seventh and forced it down, whacking Rots on the head with the lump of metal before kicking the soldier away. Cannon kept a hold on the metal and used it to force Rots over the third and fifth Punks. He made sure to pick up the switchblade and stow it in his back pocket.
He looked at his friends and smiled. ?Nice job everyone, now let?s catch up with the others.? The five Warriors fled the train station, meeting up with Cherub, Rodent and the children right outside. They would have to find another train station and travel to SoHo from there.
"There is no reason to think a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens cannot change the world; indeed, that's the only thing that ever has."
-Margaret Mead
The Warriors and the kids were resting in an alleyway behind a porno theatre. Frankie and Sally were sleeping soundly, the brother holding his sister close. Tiger smiled and removed his waistcoat, draping it over the two siblings to give them extra warmth. Most of the other Warriors were also dozing. They hoped The Hi-Hats would not find them first. Cherub sat next to Tiger and hugged her knees.
?It?s cold,? she murmured.
?It?ll warm up soon,? Tiger assured her. He felt Cherub shiver and sighed. Hesitantly, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and held her closer. His body heat was rather effective.
?Y?You?re so warm,? Cherub stammered as a blush crept onto her cheeks. Tiger smiled softly and wrapped his other arm around her. Cherub closed her eyes and rested her head on his chest. Tiger closed his own eyes and dreamed of his initiation.
October 10th, 1980. 9:00PM. Coney Island.
Tiger had recovered from the chase. He was refreshed and ready to take his initiation test. Swan, Snow, Cochise, Rembrandt and Stalker, a nimble Puerto Rican scout with short, sandy hair and a brown hoodie under his waistcoat, met up with the young newblood just outside the hideout. Tiger had opted to be a scout himself, so they had agreed to meet him if he could gather information on The Destroyers, the gang who dwelled in East Coney.
Swan crossed his arms over his chest. ?Okay Tiger, what you got??
?Destroyers are planning a raid,? replied Tiger. ?At midnight.?
Swan smiled, obviously impressed.
?How close did you get to their hideout?? he asked.
?I was on the roof and listened in through the skylight,? Tiger explained.
?Okay, that?s impressive,? Swan admitted, ?but scouting will only get us the info, to get a heavy rep you gotta be able to bop. Dig??
?I?I dig,? Tiger said with a nod. ?Where do we start??
?He?s eager,? Snow noted.
?Walk with us,? Swan said with a gesture and the six men walked out of the alley and down a few streets until they arrived at an empty look surrounded by wire fences. The six stood on top of an abandoned school bus.
?We promised our neighbours some liquor if they helped us out,? said Swan as four homeless tramps trudged into the lot. Swan shoved Tiger into the fray. The tramps, ugly and stinking, threw themselves at the young newblood.
Tiger concentrated, remembering the lessons he took before he lost everything. He saw the first tramp throw a punch, which he caught and reversed, flipping the attacker over in the air. He elbowed the second tramp in the gut and crooked his arm, whacking him in the face with the back of his hand. He roundhouse kicked the third one in the side and grabbed the fourth one?s hair before kneeing him three times in the gut.
?Okay, give them their booze. That was a good warm-up exercise,? said Swan, ?but sometimes the fights out there are gonna get nasty.? He clapped his hands twice and Snow, Cochise, Rembrandt and Stalker jumped down into the lot with him. Swan gave the order to begin and The Warriors charged. Tiger was easily able to best Rembrandt and he managed to hold his own against Cochise and Stalker. Snow on the other hand, was a different story. A martial artist himself, Snow was able to block and counter every move Tiger threw at him.
?That?s enough!? Swan ordered and his four soldiers stepped back.
?You did good kid,? he said to Tiger. ?You lasted longer against the others than most newbloods. Let?s get back to the hideout so I can give you your colours.?
December 15th, 1980. 3:50AM. SoHo.
The Warriors and the children were soon back to exploring SoHo. They had to find the hideout of The Hi-Hats if they wanted to complete this mission. Jacker cracked his knuckles in anxiety. Cannon looked at Rodent.
?Rodent, why don?t you hit the rooftops and see if there are any Hi-Hats around??
?Got it,? Rodent replied. He walked into an alleyway with some metal rungs poking out of a wall. He pulled himself up onto the rooftops and looked around. He gasped when he saw 10 Hi-Hats heading for his friends from behind.
?RUN!? he cried. ?THEY?RE BEHIND US!?
?To the roofs!? Cannon ordered. He ushered Frankie and Sally up the runs as Rodent helped them onto the rooftop. The Warriors followed and looked at the pursuers. There were nine regular Hi-Hats in their make-up, red-and-black tops, dungarees, black boots and black hats, as well as a lieutenant wearing a white top and a silver hat.
The lieutenant pointed at The Warriors. ?Get ?em!?
?Shit, run!? Jacker hissed. The nine companions raced across the rooftop. When they reached a gap, Cannon picked up Frankie and Elvis hoisted Sally onto his back. The Warriors leaped across the gap and onto the next building as The Hi-Hats gave chase. The chase continued for many minutes until The Warriors came up against a building much taller than the one they were standing on.
Cannon put Frankie down and looked at Rodent.
?Get these kids away from here!?
?No!? Frankie protested. ?I wanna stay and fight with you guys!?
?Go with Rodent!? Cannon snapped. Frankie growled but obeyed. He grabbed Sally?s wrist and jumped off the rooftop with Rodent, taking off down another alleyway. The remaining Warriors took defensive positions as The Hi-Hats closed in.
?What do we do Cannon?? Sting asked. Cannon was silent for a moment then he shouted.
?WRECK ?EM ALL!?
"There is no reason to think a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens cannot change the world; indeed, that's the only thing that ever has."
-Margaret Mead
?What do we do Cannon?? Sting asked. Cannon was silent for a moment then he shouted.
?WRECK ?EM ALL!?
The Warriors and The Hi-Hats charged at each other. Cannon smirked and pulled out the switchblade he took from Rots back at Union Square. He slashed the Hi-Hat lieutenant across the stomach then kicked him off the rooftop, letting him fall to his death. Cherub slapped a Hi-Hat across the face then kneed him in the groin.
Elvis grabbed a third Hi-Hat by the collar and tossed him off the roof. He then proceeded to elbow a fourth hard in the face and backhand a fifth across the eyes.
Sting grabbed a discarded beer bottle and smashed it against a seventh?s head before stabbing him in the chest.
Up on another rooftop, more Hi-Hats watched. One of them was their Warchief, Crackerjack.
?What should we do?? a soldier asked.
?Get over to them,? replied Crackerjack, ?and waste them all.?
Jacker head-butted a ninth Hi-Hat then punched him in the ribs before tossing him to his death. Tiger roundhouse kicked the tenth?s legs out from under him then slammed his elbow into his gut. The Hi-Hat spat up a stream of blood then lost consciousness. The Warriors regrouped and walked towards a set of metal rungs jutting out of the wall, lowering themselves back down to street level. Rodent and the children emerged from an alleyway across the street and joined them.
?I watched the whole thing!? Frankie said in excitement. ?You guys were so cool! Where?d you learn to fight like that?!?
?The street kid,? replied Jacker. ?All on the street.?
?Their hideout must be around here somewhere,? said Cannon. ?Let?s move Warriors.?
?WARRIORS!? a voice suddenly screeched. The nine people turned in its direction. There stood Crackerjack, flanked by thirteen more Hi-Hat soldiers. Crackerjack wore the same white clothes and silver hat as the lieutenants and clutched in his right hand was a machete.
?Shit, more of these damn clowns,? Jacker murmured.
?We?re gonna get japped,? Rodent whimpered.
?Shut up,? Cannon hissed, ?we gotta keep our cool.?
?You?d better listen to your friend punk!? Crackerjack screeched. ?We?re gonna slice you all to pieces! Hi-Hats! Kill them!?
Two Hi-Hats clotheslined Rodent at the same time and grabbed the children, holding them tightly. Frankie bit down on the arm of his captor and was thrown into a dustbin for his troubles. Sally screamed as tears began to fall down her cheeks.
?You freaks make me sick,? Cherub growled as she planted two kicks into the gut of a Hi-Hat only to be whacked hard across the back of the neck by another. Sufficed to say, it took little or no time at all for The Hi-Hats to overpower The Warriors and force them down against the tarmac.
Crackerjack knelt down to look at Cannon, who was pinned down by a brawny Hi-Hat.
?What?re you gonna do now Warrior?? the Warchief mocked.
?Ah, fuck you,? said a rough voice. Crackerjack turned around and a gloved fist crashed into his jaw, flinging him through the air and into a wall. The attacker was a muscular man in his mid-20s, dressed in a black vest, brown baggy trousers held up by a black belt with a gold buckle, brown boots and black fingerless gloves. He was Caucasian and had a square jaw, furious brown eyes and wavy, dark hair.
?Fuckin? A,? he smirked as Crackerjack flopped to the pavement, unconscious.
The Hi-Hats completely forgot what they were doing before and fled in terror. The newcomer offered a hand to Cannon, who accepted and stood up.
?You okay kid?? the newcomer asked.
?Yeah, I?m fine,? replied Cannon as the other Warriors and the children gathered around them. ?Who are you??
?My name?s Ajax.?
The Warriors muttered amongst themselves, if anything they were surprised. This was the legendary Ajax, who went down swinging during the Big Alert. Despite having faced defeat, Ajax was an idol to all the newbloods who wanted to become heavy muscle.
?So you?re Ajax,? said Tiger.
?That?s what I said kid,? replied Ajax. ?Or what? Do I got that much of a reputation??
?Hey, we were told you went down fighting during the Big Alert,? Rodent explained.
?Yeah, I went down,? Ajax nodded, ?but I did my time, they didn?t have nothin? on me. When I got out, I tried gettin? into cage fightin?. It wasn?t my scene. I wanna get back in The Warriors, so the question is this; why are a bunch of newbloods out here with two kids??
?They came to us for help,? said Cannon.
?So you?re tryin? to be heroes,? Ajax chuckled. ?I?ll come to. Ya never know when you?ll need someone with more experience around. You kids just explain to me what?s actually goin? on.?
So the ten companions walked together as Cannon explained the situation. At the end of it all, Ajax nodded in understanding. Before he was incarcerated, Ajax had only ever paid attention to himself. During his spell in prison, he had taken the time to think things over. He was still one of the strongest soldiers around and he was still a formidable fighter, but now he knew how to listen. Ajax had come to realise that the world did not revolve around him.
"There is no reason to think a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens cannot change the world; indeed, that's the only thing that ever has."
-Margaret Mead
