FAN FIC comp round one:copperhead vs gramercyriff99

[papa arnold]

ok guys is your turn im waiting for warriorfan54321 to do his entry so i can his one againast ginger but im getting anxiou so il start your now good luck

title:the best brawler

judge:kingofthewarlords

rules@ok guys no longer than 1500 words please and KOTW do your best to judge tese great contestant

[Baby Bear]

Ok. This good. But Im goin have to make my story more than 700 words. Perhaps 3 chapters?

[GramercyRiff99]

I too am questioning the 700 word limit. That's awful short. There have never been limits before either, only minimums.

[TheGingerWarrior]

Yeah not liking that 700 word maximum thing. Should be allowed 1,000,000 words if you want it. Whatever you need to put your point and creativity across

[adam88]

you got a point about the 700 word thing.  I suppose its more about the quality, rather the quantity.

[Baby Bear]

I gotta idea cooking in my mind right at this moment. I definately hope its enough to win this battle.

[Swan 1979]

Yeah there shouldnt be a maxium it makes people cut down their creativity.

[Baby Bear]

Its the 1970s. This was the time where gangs kept running the streets of New York City striving for survival. This time of  decade the streets wasn't a place for newcomers unless they were able to rumble with New Yorks finest crews. In this story a young Warlord has proven himself to be the best of the best. He has to push his determination to its limits and do something for a cause while getting out of a desperate near death experience. He also learns the meaning of "Live and let die" without greed.

The blazing fire is able to burn anything in its path. Smoke smuthers the air. Will he survive?

Warning: Before you read this I wanted to tell you that I only have one racial comment in the story. I don't mean to offend anyone. Im not Prejudice. Im a african american also. Thank u.
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                                                                   1979
                                                                The Best Brawler Story

  The office room was dim. At a large metal table sat a young leader named Baby bear. He led his Clique the Grizzilies to fame during the three years of their foundation. He wasn't loud mouthed but he was more observative nor did he start violent feuds between gangs unless they made conflict towards him or did something he didn't like. Now the memory of the conclave got him thinking. There are times when you sit down and take thought about things that recently happened. The night of the conclave was only 7 days ago but it was still on his mind.

The leader folds his legs over the table. He pulls his head back to stare at the yellow lit lightbulb. His point of view gets started.

"Cyrus........He gets shot for trying to make his dreams come true. I had a good feeling that conclave and peace crap wasn't going to work. You wanna know why?"

He stops to take a breath and this way he is talking to himself answering his own questions.

"Because everyone doesn't have the same dream. People don't think alike. They have to disagree. It makes the world go around. It just wasn't a good idea."

*Knock Knock*

The wooden doors golden knob twists and turns until someone opens it. It is the Grizzilies Lieutenant, Bearclaw. Bearclaw was more like Heavy muscle mixed with Scout. He knew how to make homemade bombs with his high school science education. Overally he was a bona fide thug that had a strong knuck game at most times.

Baby bear rises out of seat to sit on the table with his clean black chuck taylor shoes contacting the cold concrete floor. Bearclaw takes a puff from his newport cigarette and holds it between his two fingers. He leaned in the doorway as the dim light managed to shine on his tan skin and curly hair.

"So are you going to do with that Kelvin kid?He's P*ssing all over the freakin floor for god sakes!" Bearclaw asked.

Baby bear was still silent. He looks as if he is irritated but instead of listening to Bearclaw he is thinking about the conclave. Sometimes you have to drown thoughts and distant memories in things that you like. For example since Baby bear is thinking about cyrus accident he should forget about it a and go to the Icutus club and party with his allies The Shamrocks.

Bearclaw smacks his lips."Damn....Warlord you are so boring,man. You can't have fun!"

Baby bear snaps out of his thougts and pays attention to the Lieutenant." Ok give me a break. Go get Anubus and we will be ready, alright?"

He hops off the desk and proceeds down the stairs and goes to the basement part of the rundown Mansion which was their hideout. Bearclaw throws his fist in his palm and gives a grin of delight. He runs off to get anubus.

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Basement......

The nonchalant warlord runs down the stairs to hurry and blot out the life of thier prison. He vaults over the last two steps and lands on the ground. He pushes open the door. Holding his nose. The basemnt was low in tempature and it was cold also the rancid smell of sweat and urine filled the air. In the corner of the basement was a Jones Street boy.

Baby bear stared down on the poor captive." That stale bread and hot water to quinch your thrist wasn't lasting to long, eh? Well you will have to leave."

The shivering Jones Street boy raised his head. His eyes were watery and his apricot skin turned pasty
white. He got what he deserved. He was the Jones Street boys lieutenant and he tried to assainate the Warriors new Leader, Swan in a sneak invasion. Luckily, Baby bears two soldiers Helios and Alphonse were patroling Coney island and smelled a rat. A filthy low down rat that wanted to get rid off the warriors for good.

"I-I-I can go now?"

"Sorry Kelvin.....You tried to kill Swan. When I said you can go I meant you can die."

Kelvin eyes widen."C'mon dude...Im only 22 I got a whole life ahead of me."

A shadow is walking downstairs and is dragging a huge wooden box. Its Bearclaw. Baby bear is reileved.

"Sorry Kelvin boy...You should have thought about that when you joined a gang. Im I right?" the warlord asked.

"Blow me you stupid n*gger!"

Baby bear eyes widen. The guy was racist and called Baby bear n*gger. He warlord was filled with anger so he started to kick Kelvin all in his stomach and the side of his face.

Bearclaw comes down stairs with the box. He opens the door of the box and out comes a large head the size of a keyboard in length. The black figure had yellow eyes the size of softballs. It tongue constantly popped out its mouth.

Baby bear turns around and stops abusing Kelvin." Oh well this is all yours baby. Have a nice snack."

He grabs kelvin and pulls him towards the head of whatever it was. The large head finally stuck out even more once Kelvin got closer. The large creature slithered out of the box and attacked the defenseless Jones Street boy. He wraps around him to crush every bone in his body. You can literally hear the bones crunch and crack.

Bearclaw hunches his shoulders."Well instead of using Aubus we could have shot the cat full of battery acid, you think so? He would have died quick."

"Yeah."Baby bear responded.

[Baby Bear]

While Bearclaw and Baby bear are watching the poor hostage suffer in unbearable pain there are foot steps coming down stairs. Bearclaw turns his head to see Grenadier, Kaplan. The Grizzilies shy and quite resourceful soldier. He has a question to ask.

"Uh.. Warlord someone is at the door you want me to go answer it?"

Baby bear turns his head and looks at Kaplan."Yeah. Go see who it is. If it is those Broad Street Butchers don't open it, alright?"

Kaplan rushes upstairs. The living room of the hideout was dead quiet nobody was in there because most of the soldiers were at the Icutus club. He walks over to the door. and sees a unusual gang of people on motorcycles and some of them are on bikes. He can look at the back of their coats and jackets and tell what clique they were from.

"Uh....The Roadmasters? and The Delaney Rovers? Who are they?" Kaplan said to himself.

What did the Delaney Rovers and the Roadmasters want? Well he thinks its okay to open the door since it wasn't the Broad Street Butchers. Well Baby bear did say don't open the door if it was the Broad Street Butchers right?

Kaplan was stupid. He opened the door anyway."Uh can I help you people?"

A guy with a scraggy beard came up to the door and stares dead into the eye of Kaplan. He can sense the fear that is running through his body. The guy didn't say nothing.

'Uh what do you want? Im just asking since you came-"

*click*

By the time he was going to finsih his last word he was held by gun point. The silver nozzle of the clean Revolver kept target right in the middle of Kaplan head. The guy with the beard was holding him up.

"Get in the coffin on my chopper or I'll blow your brains out."

Kaplan wanted to shout for help but he was afriad that the guy would waste him on site. The guys on the bikes were The Delaney Rovers a all ethnic gang that messed with anyone and allied with anyone that wasn't trustworthy regardless but they still kept their reputation tight on the streets. As for The Roadmasters they were a bunch of Drug dealing bikers that always dealed with the Black hands and The Satan's Mothers.

"Look I can't-"

The bearded guy shoved the gun in Kaplans chest." Qiut d*ckinig around and get in it!"

One of the Rovers on the bikes shouted."Yeah quit being a b*tch and get in the coffin."

Kaplan moved slowly towards the coffin with his legs turning into jello. He feels as if he wants to fall or pass out. He stands over the opening of the casket with his eyes closed. The Guy is getting p*ssed off so he pushes Kaplan in a shuts the door close.

"Alright lets get out of here."

The zoomed off on their motorcyles. and left.

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20 minutes later......

The streets are dark its only 12 in the morning. On the sidewalk of Queens The Grizzilies scout, War Eagle was patroling instead of going to the club. He takes a deep breath to inhale the cold fresh air. Down the street he hears choppers and engines.

"Who is that?"He asked himself.

He gets a distant look and finds out that it is the Rovers and Roadmasters. He quickly hides behind a bush.He sees the front motorcycle dragging a casket down the street. What was in it?

"I gotta go tell baby bear." he said running from behind the bush like a little kid.

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30 minutes later.....

Baby bear sits on the living room table with bearclaw. They were playing Poker after the kill of the hostage. They probably forgot about Kaplan.

"Ok..Queens can beat a King." Bearclaw said.

"Well here I gotta.....Forget it I lost." Baby bear said.

"Whats wrong lost at a little game? That babyish crap won't cut it buddy!" Bearclaw laughed.

At the door War Eagle bursted through. He was eager to tell them something . It was going to be about the two gangs that were running around long island queens like they owned the place.

"Baby bear..the Roadmasters and Delaney Rovers are here! Did you know?"

Baby bear turns around."No. I didn't know."

He gives it thought and realizes something. If Kaplan answered that door maybe it was the two cliques that captured him. Oh no.

"Damn. They probably got Kaplan." Baby bear shouted.

Bearclaw is quiet shuffling the deck of cards in the palm of his fingerless gloves. He doesn't want to interfere.

"Thats a coincidence because I saw them with a coffin dragging around on the street." War Eagle added.

"Double damn. I'll probably need back up. I need Dagden for help." Baby bear said.

He takes a cell phone from out of his jacket. He dials the number of the Shamrocks Warlord. He's going to need back up.

"C'mon pick up You lazy Bastard!"

The scout is standing there queit with his mouth hung open. All the Warlord is doing is cursing at the phone cause The Shamrocks wouldn't answer. After 3 minutes The warlord gets impatient and throws the phone on the floor in anger and disgust.

"Im gonna take care of this. Give me time to think. I'll figure-"

A large rock was thrown through the window. There was a note attached to it.

The Scout ran towards it and read the writing." If you want your faggot friend come find us and rumble with the best."

"What?" Bearclaw shouted.

"Its no probelm. Is there a time or place I have I to be?" Baby bear asked.

War Eagle takes another look down at the note."Uh...yeah. It says meet us at the Warehouse outside of town. Be there at 2:30 sharp."

"Its up to me. I don't need noone worrying, got it?"

The Lieutenant and Scout nodded their heads. Baby bear takes off upstairs to think about what has to be done. Now that the Shamrocks aren't answering he has to take it by himself.

[GramercyRiff99]

Well, judging from Copperhead's entry, the word limit is pretty much nil. I've been thinking a lot about the topic I'm going to do, and I think I have an idea. I'm gonna get to writing it, but I have to warn you all that it's likely going to be rather controversial. I know that tends to be the norm with me, but this one moreso. I certainly hope it doesn't offend anyone.

Also, great entry Copperhead. I'll have mine in either today or tomorrow.

[papa arnold]

ok guys i have changed the word limit to 1500 words i hopethats ok

[GramercyRiff99]

Alright, here is my entry. I made it as short as I could while still having the point that I meant to make. It might be over the word count, and if so I'm sorry, but I'm pretty sure Copperhead's is too. So we're even I guess.

This is a story of a different sort. Most Warriors related things have an antihero as the main character. Someone who, while technically a lawbreaker, still has some honor and you can't help but like. This story's protagonist is anything but. He is the embodiment of villain. The type of person who you would never associate with. The kind of person whom you would dread meeting. This is his story.

I must place a disclaimer here. I am not a racist. I am not an anti-Semite. I do not idolize Adolf Hitler. As a matter of fact, that douchebag killed half my grandparents' family. I like Jewish people and have no problem with them at all. However, I felt that I needed to use the POV of a neo-nazi in order to get across a message. That message being that racism and antisemitism never pays off in the end. Just read the story to see what I mean. I realize it's probably offensive, but just note that I don't mean to come off as a neo-nazi myself. It's purely fiction.

Just in case that was somehow missed: THIS IS NOT MEANT AS A RACIST TYPE THING. IT IS PURELY FICTION AND HAS NO BASIS IN REALITY. PLEASE DON'T GO INTO A MORAL PANIC AND BE OFFENDED BY ANY OF THIS, AS I PURPOSELY TRIED TO MAKE THEM SOUND AS TERRIBLE AS POSSIBLE BECAUSE NEO-NAZIS ARE TERRIBLE PEOPLE. THANK YOU FOR READING THIS DISCLAIMER. CAPS LOCK IS COOL.

With that out of the way, on to my story.

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The Best Brawler

I always knew I was the best brawler. Oh, I never said anything, but I knew it. That night... well, it just proved it. Anyone who doubted it before believed me then. I was the best brawler. I guess I should explain it to all of you.

Back in the seventies, I was living in the South Bronx. My parents weren't exactly rich, so I worked to help them pay the rent. My dad was always looking for someone to blame for his being a deadbeat. Usually it was me. He would beat my ass almost daily till I was about fourteen. Every time he beat me, I would resolve never to let it happen again. It kept happening though. I trained myself against it, fighting street kids in back alleys and using cinderblocks on a metal bar as weights. Yet every night he would beat me into the ground. Finally, one day I was strong enough. Not only did I wipe the floor with him, but I tossed him right off the damned balcony. Boom, one dead body. I got off because it was pretty obviously self-defense, but I was hooked.

I fell in with a rather bad crowd around 1977. I was sixteen and hated the world. Isn't everyone the same at that age though? I met an older man one night a few months later. I had been walking through Claremont Park when I saw him. I guess I figured he'd be an easy target, so I told him to give me his wallet. He replied by pinning me to the ground with a Mauser in my face. After I got up, we sat down and talked about my life. It turned out he was a German immigrant. He'd fought in the Waffen SS during World War Two, then he'd run to New York in a so far successful attempt at avoiding Nuremburg. As we started to talk, he started to tell me things. Things about the Jews and their role in society. Things about how they run everything in the background. How the banks are all in their pockets. All of that. And guess what? He was right. It'd been right in front of my eyes all along, I'd just been ignoring it. I never saw that man again after that night, but he left a mark on me.

One week later, The Webster Avenue Aryans were formed. I had explained what I'd been told to our leader, Randall, and he passed it on to my bretheren. Before long, we were a real heavy outfit. I remember our colours. All black, army boots, shaved heads. It was the time of my life. By 1979, we had over fifty members. It doesn't sound like much, but when one of us was capable of taking down ten other brawlers, it becomes a considerable amount more. Nobody questioned us, nobody dared to. We just went about our business, and others went about theirs.

We tried to educate people. We told them about what a great man Adolf Hitler was, and spoke of his genius. We told people of the hoax that is the Holocaust. We tried to warn everyone about the Zionist Conspiracy, and how the State of Israel must be stopped. The few that believed us joined up. The rest called us fools. They tried to have us arrested, but nothing could touch us. We were called "skinheads" and "Neo-Nazis" as though it was a bad thing. They were the fools.

I remember the day I killed my first Jew. It was early 1979, April 20th. Our master's birthday. In honor of the Reich, I decided I'd beat up some of them. I found an old Jewish man walking down the street after dark. He was in front of the bodega at the corner of Claremont and Webster when I struck. Ran right in and beat him down I did. I guess I cracked him in the head too hard, cause he stopped breathing. I didn't see it as a huge loss, I just ran like hell and left him to die. It was exhilirating, and I was addicted.

Over the next months, I'd go out a few times a week and lay a beatdown on them. I did some blacks and a gypsy or two as well. After a while, the cops took notice. The one time they tried to take me down, I just pulled a gun and capped the pig. Anyone who tried to take us down was an enemy of the cause, and had to be dealed with as such. We started to get into drug production. We sold crack to the blacks and the Jews. Figured that we could take them down with the drugs. I can't count the amount of money we made from them. Not that they had a lack of it.

We tried our best to catch the eye of the Riffs, cause we heard that they were going to try something. A meeting in Van Cortlandt Park. We tried and tried, but they refused to invite us. It went so far that Randall actually took the train down to Gramercy and asked Cyrus himself. Cyrus called us the scum of the Earth and told him to leave or be killed. Randall didn't move, so Cyrus shot him in the head. He died with the monkeys surrounding him. His mantle was passed to his brother Rick. Rick wanted revenge, but I managed to talk him down. Taking on the Riffs was way, way beyond us. So we waited.

The early morning of July 13th, we were avenged by a mousey fellow called Luther. Cyrus got capped by him during his little get-together. Serves him right. We kept doing our business, selling rock, beating up the inferiors, and generally furthering the cause. Eventually, we started to attract some attention from outside the Bronx. A gang of Jews from Brooklyn started making forays into our turf. Called themselves the Ocean Parkway Stars. They got beat back every time, but it pissed me off that they'd even think of trying to take us out. There was only one problem.

One member of theirs, a big, burly guy feared the city over. He was a few hundred pounds of pure muscle. I think his name was David or something, I don't pay attention to their names. Anyway, he was the one that always gave us the most trouble. He only ever retreated when the rest of his guys were beat, and even then that was more a grudging concession to his men than anything. We tried shooting him, we tried knifing him, hell, one of our guys even fashioned a crude explosive and it barely budged him. He was able to withstand anything we threw at him. It was like he was a modern Rasputin. Just our luck that his reincarnation would be Jewish.

Summer turned to Autumn, Autumn to Winter, and 1979 to 1980. As the cycle turned to Spring, it was decided. We had to do something about these bastards. I was our best brawler, so I was elected to be the one who takes down muscle-mountain. It was only fitting that we pulled it off on April 20th, again the birthday of Adolf Hitler. We would have made him proud. So that night, we headed over to 170th Street and took the train. A couple of cops gave us some lip during the transfer to the F at Jay Street-Borough Hall, but we busted their chops pretty good. Finally, we ended up at 18th Avenue.

First thing we saw was a few of the bastards upon exiting the station. I just watched while the others mopped them up. They can't fight worth a damn, I tell ya. We headed over to Ocean Parkway proper, and there we saw it. He was standing there, eating a bag of chips from a hot dog stand. The second he spotted us, the others broke off and circled around the two of us. They all knew what was going to happen. Only one of us was going to walk away from this.

He threw the first punch. I managed to dodge it and circled down to try and get my arms around him. He jerked his arm back and caught me in the jaw. It was like a brick smashing into my face. Found out later that there was a hairline fracture in my jaw. Asshole. I hit the ground and he went to kick me. I managed to roll away and he overcompensated, nearly falling on his face. I jumped up and kneed him in the chin. He gave a scream of pain and blood came pouring out of his mouth. The retard had bitten a chunk out of his tongue. I seized the opportunity and got a few good punches in on his face. Broke his nose but good.

That just served to anger him, so he grabbed me and slammed me into the concrete. God, it was like the pain of a thousand suns. That one busted two ribs and bruised my pelvis, I found out later. He went to break my skull on the pavement, and I shoved one of my boots into his nuts. He fell, howling in pain. I had the upper hand now. One, two, three kicks to the head. He was trying to get up, so I kicked him in the throat. It's a wonder what steel-toed boots can do to help a beating. He fell again, this time struggling to breathe. I kept going at it, kicking at any exposed spot. Finally, he stopped resisting and just tried to get away. No way in hell was I gonna let that happen. I grabbed him and dragged him over to the curb, shoving his face up to it. With one mighty motion, I brought my boot down onto his head. His teeth snapped off and his jaw shattered. Blood was pouring out onto the concrete as my boot turned his brain to pulp. With one final, shuddering breath, he tried to stand. Immediately, he fell over. The Jew was dead.

It was at that moment that I knew it. I was the best brawler. I had beaten one of the best fighters in the city. He was lying on the ground bleeding out and I was standing, slightly hurt, but alive. Nobody could beat me. Nobody. We ended up running back to the station and taking the train back before the cops got there. The cops always suspected us, but they never had any proof that we were responsible. I was the best brawler.

Over the next two years, I beat more and more people. Hernandez, of the East New York Crazies. Martin, of the Tottenville Thrashers. Ajax, of the Coney Island Warriors. I beat them all. I didn't kill most of 'em, but I sure let them know who's boss. That Ajax one was the toughest. When I left though, he was crying like a baby. Of course, all good things come to an end sometime. I got caught beating a Jewish girl up near Pelham Bay Park. The cops all had their guns on me, so I didn't even try to fight. They got me on charges ranging from murder to assault on an officer to rape. Right now I'm serving life in prison on Rikers Island. I've been here 25 years now. You know what? It's all worth it. Even here, nobody challenges me.

I am the best brawler.

[Baby Bear]

The indecisive Baby bear sits back at his office table with his legs crossed on the top. What will he do? Does he have an idea? He quickly shuffles through his desk. A shiny metallic instrument catches his eye. Its a Revolver. He wants to pick it up but decreased his intentions because he knew a real brawler didn't need a gun to finish his probelms.

"I won't use a gun......I promise to keep it low pro with weapons..it just won't make any sense."

Finally he shuts his desk closed.He has an idea. He runs back downstairs and vaults over two steps as usual. He burst through the door outside as he passed up Bearclaw and War Eagle. He was ready for payback no matter what happened. He thought about the warehouse that he needed to be at. It was called Yorkers Warehouse. He remebered when he saved a little girl from being raped in that exact place.


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40 minutes later.........


Baby bear arrives by Yorkers Warehouse. He is standing in a alley when he witness 2 Rovers and 3 Roadmasters guarding each corner and there was one on top of the roof which was probably called "Eagle eye scouting" The young warlord knew it was tim to get serious. He threw off his black vest to show off his toned muscles and tan skin. He felt like a lost soldier in WW 2 that was highly skilled in stealth. He picks up a broad stick and manages to sneak over by the warehouse shadow while the scout turned his back to pick up his twenty dollar bill.

"C'mon you little bastard!"the warlord murmured.

Once the guy turned his back Baby bear put the stick around the guys throat. The wood chips of the stick was chipping away at his neck until......

*crack*

Baby bear crushed the guys throat. One by one he took down the rest of the guarding patrols using the same procedure. Okay the last guard was on the roof and the entrance was also leading into the warehouse. Ok. Baby bear silently climbed up a ladder. The guard had his back turned looking over on the streets. This time Bear wasn't going to crush his throat he was going to scar the guy for life. Slowly he walks up to the guard. He taps his shoulder.

"BOO!"

The guard falls over the bannister that was on the roof and hit the ground with a piercing scream. The guy also broke both of his ankles in the fall. Now that that is done he makes his way into the warehouse.

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Inside the warehouse.........

Baby bear quietly snuck into the warehouse. The breeze of the Yorkers place was cold as usual. A figure hanging from a hook caught his eye. Its was Kaplan with his tied wrist hanging from a hook on the ceiling. His shirt was off. They must have tortured and abused him.

"Kaplan. Going to get you outta here. you hear me?"

Kaplan was opening his eyes.His body was weak his chest and stomach had fresh welts and scars all over. They definately have been abusing him. Kaplan was motionless and didn't answer Bear.

"What wrong you can't help your boyfriend?" A voice came from the shadow.

The warlord turned his head to see two figure stand before him. It was the Roadmasters warlord, Hacker and The Rovers Warlord, Rainer. Baby bear is screwed cause he knows that its two against one. Baby bear turns his back to kaplan.

"Why? What was the reason? We didn't ever bother you?"he asked.

Hacker scratched his beard."We were paided big money from the Broad Street Butchers to kill you. We expected the leader to come done here and be a a**!"

Rainer laughs. Then he pulls out a sickle. A sharp hooked knife.

"Damn and double damn!"Baby bear whispered.

Baby bear is tired of all the small talk so he charges at hacker. Hacker was quick in reflexes so he gives the warlord a punch to the jaw to make him fall to the ground. Baby bear held his blooded mouth and noticed that Rainer was already approaching him with the sickle. Quick and fast he swipes his leg under Rainer to make him violently fall to the ground on his stomach. In the process he was disarmed now.

He picks up the sickle and sits on Rainers back as he puts the blade on his neck. This is a threat. He feels like a robber having a hostage during a bank robbery.

"Don't move or I'll cut his throat open. You won't have any allies then."

Hacker hunches his shoulders." I don't care. Do it."

"C'mon hacker....*cough*...don't let him do it!" Rainer said with fear.

*Slit*

Baby bear slit Rainers throat. It was too late. Now bear stands on the back of the dead rover feeling like a king.He feels invincible.The bloody sickle is firm in grasp. Hacker was reaching into his pocket and pulls out something shiny. Oh sh*t its a .357 magnum. He points it at the young man with no feelings of regret.

*Boom*

The Roadmaster shot at bear but missed. Bear had jumped over to the side and ran into the shadows to hide."Where are you you little sh*t? I can smell you you dirty little f*ck!"

Bear is hiding behind some large boxes. He sees a gas tank. He has an idea. He gently and queitly pushes it out into the open. He stands in front of it waiting to see if the the gunslinger will catch him. And the Gunslinger did catch him.

"Shoot me....Im here!" bear shouted.

"Your wish for death? No probelm!"

*Boom!*   *Boom*

The bullet didn't hit bear this time. He chose to jump out of site again. This time the guy hit the gas tank and blew it up. Fire overstrewed the warehouse. It was ready to burn down. Hacker was too astonish by the bright fire that sparked throuhout the house. The black smoke started to blanket the air. Hacker was coughing that meant he let his guard down.

It was bears time to strike. He came out the shadows and gave the guy a hard kick to the stomach. He stumbled. Bear gave the guy a right hook which made the gun fall from his hand. Bear hurried and picked up the gun. He pointed it at Hacker. He had a little sympathy but he needed to do his time of pain. He shot Hacker in the leg to make sure he didn't get up. Bear throws the gun under Kaplan.

Bear ran towards Kaplan."Ok. We're going to get out of here before we get fried."

Kaplans was too weak to speak."I.....leave me here. I deserve to die."

"No man don't talk like that."

"I said I won't leave you."

Kaplan kicks bear away."You should've used that gun to kill me."

Bear knows he's is talking crazy. He backs away. He turns his back towards the entrance.until.....

*click*

The injured Roadmaster still has his gun. He wasn't on his leg but he partially stood up. Bear turns around he notice that Hacker is standing in front of Kaplan.

"It's time for you to die Grizzily and earn my bread from the Butchers so I won't be in this sh*t hole anymore!"

Bear looks at Kaplan who was full awake."You sure about that mister Roadmaster? You gambled and lost. Thats what I say. You wanted to kill me but your already dead."

"What?"

Kaplan pulled up both of his legs and squeezes it across Hackers neck making him drop the magnum. Bear ran back over to Hacker and stole the gun. The smoke was getting rowdy and started to get darker at the point where you weren't able to see nothing.

Hacker laid his finger on the ground. Bear looked at hacker and stuffed the gun in his pocket.

"Now lets fight with our lifes at stake!"

*crack* The bones in Hackers fingers shattered when bear stomped them.

Quickly the young warlord ran out and left both of them inside while the fire disentegrated the warehouse.

Bear looks up at the burning warehouse while the Y on the Yorker sign fell off. He knew that he survived something intense.Like Scarface he felt like the world was his but instead of that he was the best brawler.
He walks away from the warehouse with his head down. He picks up a radio from off the street and turns it on.

"Uptight"by Little Stevie Wonder comes on.

If he could survive that fire fight then he definatley was THE BEST BRAWLER.


END!

[swan_jax]

nice story copper head

[Baby Bear]

I'll have to admit Gramercyriff99 was good too. It kinda reminded me of the biography of Stanely "Tookie" Williams. LOL.