The Warriors Movie Site Forum

First, let me say sorry to everyone about my long time out (if you noticed), I had some stuff to deal with (mainly working looong hours to get some cash stashed, now that my student loans are coming up) but in my spare time I've been working on this. It has the same piece I put in earlier on the old site (Arissa) but I worked around it. It's only a start, just trying to build the mood. Here goes, thanks for any input...

They heard the screams, the pleads for mercy. But this wasn?t the scream of a victim. This was the scream of a guilty man?a cold, cowardly man?reaping, in great heaps, the karma he?d earned himself over the course of one night. They knew his bloodshed wouldn?t revive their own fallen ones, but it came pretty damn close. And Cleon was surely smiling now. Surely. Somewhat comforted by this, they headed down the beach, aroused by the horizon that lay ahead, and not looking back. Their night of hell was over.

I. The Next Day

Eventually, distance reduced the mob to a small mass of dots, then nothing at all. The crashing waves drowned out any remnants of sound the war raging behind them made. Not that they could really call it a war. There was no contest in any war where the Riffs were concerned, this was a fact.

The Warriors parted ways as sunlight flooded the beach. Cochise, Snow and Cowboy headed on to get a bite to eat and cleaned up.

Rembrandt and Vermin had lived on the same block all their lives, across the street from each other. Vermin decided to rest up at Rembrandt?s house as his mother was a registered nurse who worked the day shift, and had pretty much adopted him since his own parents were hardly around. In fact, during the day when they weren?t running errands, the Warriors would hang out at Rem?s house quite a bit, as there was plenty of room there and his mother?s hours were long.

Swan was exhausted. There wasn?t an inch on his body that didn?t either ache or sting, depending on the ailment. Still, he knew that after this night, he was a Warrior in every sense of the word. So was she.

Despite her having been on heels the whole time, Mercy held her own. A real tough chick. A filthy one, too. They both needed a shower, a bite to eat?maybe they could nap for a while and then sit and talk. He didn?t even know her last name yet. Swan shuddered a bit, realizing he was making plans for a girl that this time yesterday wouldn?t have kept his glance for long at all.

Swan: We?d better get cleaned up.
Mercy: Were you serious about what you said?
Swan: When?
Mercy: When you said you?d take off.
Swan: I dunno. Sounds like my only choice at this point. Last night can?t happen again.
Mercy: Last night won?t happen again.
Swan: You?d think that. But it?s not true. This is a heavy family. A lot of people are looking to get in on what we?ve made for ourselves.

They headed toward the boardwalk, passing a row of closed businesses. On many of the windows were posters that read, ?Change is possible. We can help.? A phone number and address of a youth center was printed at the bottom. Mercy pondered the sign for a moment then turned to face Swan.

Swan: No way.
Mercy: Well, it wouldn?t hurt to just hear them out. Maybe they can give you some information about some things going on around town, if you?re really looking for something different. Hell, why not?
Swan: Why not?

An hour after arriving at Swan?s apartment, they were cleaned up but, surprisingly, too wired to sleep. Swan wasn?t surprised, after eventful nights he needed at least a few hours to clear his head and put the events behind him in order to get peaceful sleep. Something told him Mercy just didn?t sleep much. She?s not the sleeping type, he thought.

Later on, Swan and Mercy found themselves walking the final block toward the Youth Center. They arrived slack-jawed, eyes a dull stare. They honestly looked like they had nowhere else to go.

They approached a forty-ish woman wearing wire-rimmed glasses, a prudish look on her face. She didn?t look up at them as they neared the counter. Instead, she said,

?Name and appointment time??

Swan: Call me Swan, and Mercy. No appointment.

Woman: No appointment?walk-ins are hard to get to during the week. Harder on the weekends. Have you been here before?

Swan: A couple times. Not recently.

Mercy: I?ve never been?

Woman: (Still not looking them in the eye) Well, who were you dealing with?

Swan: Some dude, Pat?

Woman: Patrick. Hmph, you haven?t been here recently. He left six months ago. Couldn?t seem to get anywhere with you kids?

Her words trailed off as she lifted her head and for the first time saw Swan and Mercy. Though they weren?t as dirty as when they first arrived at Coney, there were still visible, irritated wounds on both of them, telling the tale of their night of hell. She moved quickly to gather some forms.

Woman (Pointing toward a small hallway lined with doors): Second door on the right. You can fill these in when Tony seats you. Go on.

They headed toward the door?

Mercy: I guess she really wants to help us.

Swan (Touching his cheek and examining his bruised knuckles): Help us, hide us, whatever.

They entered Tony?s office and stood before him. He took one look at Swan?s knuckles and Mercy?s clothes (she was now wearing an oversized sweatshirt and a long pair of jeans, both clearly from a man?s closet) and set right in.

Tony: So, now you want to clean yourselves up. Get off the streets. Well, if you?re serious about bettering your life, pal, you can start by taking active responsibility in cleaning up the streets that turned on you. Yeah and from the looks of you two?s, you haven?t been.

Swan: Screw this?

He turned, smirking, but Mercy stopped him.
Mercy: (Eyes glaring at Tony) Look, I?ve been pounding pavement for almost ten hours. I?m here to make some changes. Youth worker my ass. You wonder why girls like me do what we do?

An hour later, Swan and Mercy exited the Youth Center, paperwork in hand. Mercy looked a bit amused, almost excited. Swan wore his usual look of indifference.

Mercy: Now what?s wrong with you? I swear you?re like a brick wall.

Swan: I didn?t like what he had to say.

Mercy: Since when did that matter on this side of town?

Swan: What side?

Mercy: Our side.

Swan: Let?s get around to the others. Don?t mention Tony til I sit a minute, and think about this.

II. When it Rains?

Rembrandt moved, half-asleep toward the living room. He saw Vermin, staring silently at the flickering screen. As his eyes focused, familiar images flashed before him. Colored staircases. Newstands. A subway tunnel. Police tape. This is the station they were all in when they were first busted! This was the last time he?d seen some of his brothers before they were separated, some of them for good. What was the TV saying? He willed himself to focus but he was being overcome by nausea as he realized who had made the news.

Reporter: There were no other eyewitnesses?officer claims?acted in defense?only other suspect?pink?

Finally he overcame the initial shock, as the reporter concluded:

Reporter: This is just one of a string of violent outbreaks across the city in the past twenty-four hours. Officials can only guess at this point if it is a coincidence, or the start of a gruesome trend among some degenerate youth. All that is certain now are that the death toll has risen by one, and the second in a row to be named a member of a gang called The Warriors.

Vermin: Jesus, man.

Rembrandt: Not Fox. Christ, not Fox!

A couple weeks later, Swan still hadn?t made up his mind on whether or not to take Tony?s advice. Mercy was growing more and more restless as the monotony of everyday crime set in.

Mercy: So what are you gonna do?

Swan: About what?

Mercy: You know what I mean. Are you gonna make moves or what? You?ve been in limbo for weeks now.

Swan: What?s it to you? You can take off any time.

Mercy: And I?m tired of that bullshit line, too! I?ve been here with you. I was on your side before I even knew your name.

Swan: I never asked for that. It was a bad scene that night.

Mercy: And the day after?

He had no response.

Mercy: Every night is like a bad scene. When we set foot off that train, you didn?t look relieved. Now you?re comfortable again? Look, I?m not saying I?m against anything you?re doing. I just don?t like things done half-assed. When it comes to being what you are, you either go all the way or leave it alone.

Swan: And what?s that mean?

Mercy didn?t say anything; instead, she allowed Swan to follow her gaze to the entryway of the apartment. On the wall was a row of small hat hooks. His vest hung there, the Warriors tag emblazoned on the back.

Swan hadn?t been seen by many since what was now known to the street family as Hell Night. Though he was readily available, as Warlord should be, something was amiss in him. Though everyone who did see him noticed it, not one person said a word?except Mercy.

That night, the Big Six met up, sans vests. They strolled Coney clad as civilians, taking in the scenery. Tonight was going to be a tough one. They had a lot to consider, seeing as how one voyage to the Bronx left them three members short, including their leader.

Swan: How many are patrolling tonight?

Cochise: We got a good two dozen heading to the boarders, nice and hidden, another twenty roaming. The ones inside lines aren?t marked.

Snow: Making the midday and Six O?clock News for a week was motivation to keep anyone without stealth under wraps for a while.

Cowboy: Yeah, pigs are probably looking for an excuse to let the hounds out.

Eye-candy in a tight skirt was heading toward the group.

Vermin: I wouldn?t mind letting my hound out?

The girl smiled a bit at Vermin as she passed by, trying hard not to look like she was trying too hard.

Rembrandt: Don?t even think about it, man. She goes to my school. And she?s a freshman?again.

The Warriors went to a favorite spot on Mermaid Avenue: a bar that didn?t card. Despite the size difference, Rembrandt had already polished off a third beer while Cowboy was still nursing his first and hiccupping.

Cochise: (Pointing to the far wall) See that light spot on the wall there, man?

Rembrandt: By the calendar?

Cochise: Yeah, that was painted over after Ajax got too happy. He put some cash on a ball game, and the muscle head won fifty big ones. He was on top of the world that night!

Vermin: Yeah, he was!

Rembrandt: So, what would he do if he lost?

Cochise: (Pointing at the adjacent wall) See that huge hole right there, where a pay phone used to be?

Swan took one last gulp of his Miller and focused on the target in front of him. The alcohol was not washing away any of the thoughts racking his brain. Instead, it only clouded his head further. He landed a dart dead on the bulls-eye. Mercy being back at the apartment somehow comforted him, even though it wasn?t their place. The apartment was actually his brother?s, who was home a few days out of each month in between driving trucks and doing handyman gigs whenever a friend gave him a lead. The pay was okay, but Swan didn?t understand it most of the time. Why pay for a place if you don?t live there? But he was staying virtually rent-free and only had to worry about feeding himself, so he didn?t complain.

This whole thing with Mercy was weird. She was a tough chick, nothing like what he thought he?d end up with. He wanted someone to possibly start over with. That way, when he looked at her, it wouldn?t be like looking in a mirror. Now, more than ever, he wanted to put some past mistakes behind. Mercy was too familiar with the type of person he was and where he came from, and he didn?t like that at all?at first. But she had a softer side, too. And caring.

And this dickhead Tony?Swan didn?t know what this parole officer reject had in mind for him, but he had to admit some of the things he said made sense:
Mercy: You wonder why girls like me do what we do?
Tony: (Eyes softening to her) I don?t wonder. Not anymore. When you hear a story enough it kind of begins to tell itself over and over again in your head.
Mercy: So, where does that leave us?
Tony: Swan, right? (Swan just looked at him) Do you two have any idea what I?m up against? There?s a ton of young guys out there, suave, rugged, all types of guys, looking to make my life and my community a living hell. I?m one person. I can?t do it all. You understand what I?m saying?
Swan: I guess.
Tony: And they?re bringing out heavy artillery. They tell you they?re family. You?re brothers. Our house is a very fine house. All that shit. They tell you two?s to look at a cop and yell, ?Pig!? Look at me and yell, ?Rent-a-Pig!? The kids look at these guys and think they?re heroes and true blood. They look at me like I?m out to get them. I?ve got no chance.
Mercy: Most of them don?t need a gang to tell them that. You can?t tell me some of that bullshit isn?t earned.
Tony: Can?t argue with that. There?s some jerks on my end. Like I?m sure there are some stupid jerks on yours.
Swan: (Thinking of Ajax) Yeah, so what? Are you saying we have to start converting people like a bunch of Jesus freaks? Is that what it takes to get out of it?
Tony: No, but it?s a start. I?m not saying you have to go around knocking on doors. But it isn?t enough these days to just change yourself and hope for the best for everyone else. You?ve got to start thinking about your ?brothers?. If you?re a leader, they?ll always follow.

Swan had just wanted to take off, not become some cause-boy ratting out his friends. That Tony sounded like he?d been where Swan was, but who said the gangs were the cause for the problem? There was definitely a problem, but the gangs were just the tip of the iceberg. Any idiot would know that.

Vermin: Hey, man, you goin? deaf or something?

Swan: What?

Vermin: (Now at the pool table) I?m racking. You want in?

Swan: Yeah, you break.

Before Vermin had a chance to get all the balls aligned, a patroller moved briskly toward the group. Cowboy had known him since junior high, and they got their leather around the same time.

Cowboy: Hustler! Man where?s the fire?

Hustler: Some dudes are asking for trouble, man.

Swan: What?s going on?

Hustler: I was showing some new bloods some spots around our grounds. Some chump was marking around our lines, covered our tag right up.

Rembrandt: What the hell?

Cochise: The lines are clearly drawn. That?s for sure.

Swan: Right. That?s no accident.

hey man, this sounds awsome.

I can't wait to see what happens next.

I like it! It's good you should update soon I wonder who it was that tagged the Warriors Wall?

Thanks, guys, for the feedback-it means a lot. Here is the next installment:

III. Play Ball!

Vermin: This is just what the f--- we need. Right on.

Vermin, Snow, and Swan examined the markings like detectives examining evidence. Snow couldn?t distinguish the colors as any clique in particular. He wished Fox was there right then. No new group got past him.

Swan: No ideas?

Snow: None.

The Warriors? mark was indeed covered--perfectly, and the artist?s intent was obvious.

The mark, four lines crossing in the shape of an X, was pretty simple, but the colors used were what made it stand out. Any idiot could have used simple black, or any one color, for a quick adrenaline rush and fast getaway. That happened sometimes. This person used four different colors to make the symbol: green, black, yellow, and purple. The yellow and black ran parallel, and they crossed with the green and purple, also parallel.

Vermin: What kind of queer s--- is this anyway? I don?t get it. (Shaking his head)

Snow: We can?t ask anybody either. This can?t get out.

Vermin: If all our borders are marked up like this, it?s already out.

Swan remained silent for a moment. They were both right. Any unclad soldier could walk around the beach tomorrow and see they were having a hard time holding down their turf. They could send a mole, but that could get complicated. You can never ask too many questions to a family without being an actual part of it?no, it was no use. They?d have to see someone in the near future. But, for now, who could they go to without looking more obvious? Who had a good idea of what the streets were looking like? Who isn?t in any position to mouth off? Dammit. He could only think of one person, and he did not want to see that jerk.

Rembrandt dropped his journal down beside him, and lay back to rest his eyes. The image he was trying to create lacked something. He looked over the picture, the eyes staring back at him familiar and yet very strange. He still felt Fox was nearby, and always would be, but now the mystery of death separated them. He couldn?t help but wonder what his last thoughts were. Mercy had said the last thing he told her was to run, urging her to save herself and then taking the fall for them both. She was still a stranger to him at that point, and probably a pest, but he saved her anyway. She ran and then, probably in seconds, he was gone.

Though Cleon didn?t let on at the start, it was obvious he was mesmerized by Cyrus. When the gun went off, Cleon made a bad move. It wasn?t like him to go toward the trouble. He knew his job was to get his soldiers and himself away from it, in that order. If he had just done that, he?d still be here. Cyrus failed to realize that the bigger you are, the bigger the target you become. He still couldn?t believe he was shot in the middle of a speech that could have made history for street families everywhere. Two leaders had left themselves wide open and were killed because of it.

Rembrandt: I?m not all that tough, but I?m never wide open either.

With that thought fresh in his mind, he drifted off to sleep.

Next morning, Cochise decided to start the day with a little exercise. Monday mornings at his community rec center were usually slow, and he could go do some lifting before the afternoon meeting Swan had called. He and Ajax used to hit the gym all the time, before Ajax got carted off. As muscle, he held his own pretty well. Sure, Snow had a slight background in martial arts, and Ajax could bench press more than anybody. Even Vermin was a strong fighter, able to grapple and box his way to glory. Cochise didn?t specialize, instead learning a few moves from different areas and perfecting them. This way, he reasoned, his opponents wouldn?t get bored.

Summer was definitely here: only eight o?clock, but the sun was beating down the streets like it was midday. He actually had to squint just to see down the street. If he had only had shades on, he?d have been a lot better off?

The Chase Center for Youth and Young Adults was just taking its first steps toward becoming a major force in the Brooklyn area. They opened its doors and, after not much patronage, began combing the streets for the hangouts of various disillusioned youth, and advertising there. Coney was only one stop for them. There were many more people to reach, and nobody knew this more than Tony. But for all the street smarts he possessed, Swan failed to be impressed. Thus, Tony was quite shocked when Swan sauntered into his office bright and early Monday morning.

Tony: Well, if it isn?t, uh, Duckie?

Swan: It?s Swan.

Tony: I know it. Well, let me guess, you?ve decided to tell me where I can put my cause?

Swan: Not exactly. I wanted to get more information. On who you?re trying to get rid of.

Tony: Swan, ?get rid of? isn?t the phrase. These gang members are portrayed in the news like a bunch of hoodlums, lost causes. The druggies are seen as walking corpses. The loose girls are just walking slot machines. Feed ?em a little cash, get a turn. I refuse to see it that way. I think everyone can be a new man or woman, if they?re willing to shed some skin.

Swan knew he was on to something. Smartly, he hadn?t given away his affiliations, and Tony was about to spill all the beans in hopes of landing a new preacher to pound pavement for him. Names, he thought, give me names. And screw the cause, too.

Swan: You don?t want anyone gone? At all? I?ve been looking around and all these people you?re talking about are multiplying. Especially in my area. I really think street gangs are the worst at this point.

Eat it, sucker, he thought.

Tony: Tell me about it. There?s a huge outfit right out there on Coney, goddamn Warriors. You know about them. But then my sources are telling me there are some others, too. Not as large as the Warriors, but they?re working on it; recruiting all kinds of people all around the area, building numbers. But nobody knows who?s behind it. These bastards are going end up kicking up a lot of dust. I know it. All I can think of is the kid they?re showering attention on right now, and the lies they?re feeding him to earn his trust. It makes me sick thinking about it.

Swan: Nobody knows who they are? Not even the Warriors?

Tony: The Warriors are pretty tight on what they know and don?t know. Seems like they got a lid on everything going on within their group, even after what happened to a few of their members recently. Naw, they?re not sloppy at all. Gotta hand it to ?em, they are real tight.

Swan was pleased that nobody was able to tap in to their information. And he figured he had tapped Tony dry, for now. Of course, he couldn?t leave without a go-home line.

Swan: I still need to think about this. I just wanted to see what kind of work I had in store. But I?ll be back around.

Tony: What about the lady?

Swan: Maybe. She?s up for anything.

Tony: You know, it?s none of my business, but the two of you?s should head down the street sometime. There?s a great place for kids like you, right across from the bagel shop.

Swan headed out the door of the center, and out of sheer curiosity looked down toward Bart?s Bagels. A Planned Parenthood building stood across the street from it.

That afternoon, at the Warriors dive, the usual faces were present. A couple of truly gifted scouts, Roger and Earl, stood at the doorway. Hustler puffed on a cigarette in the corner. Also among the present were: Boss, a guy who could outrun any patrol car and always pulled off the best robberies; Wes, one of the best all-around fighters Swan had ever seen; Rafe, a real talker (Vermin believed he could get a confession out of the President); and Tino, whose muscular build and light feet would have made him a nice football player, had he not ?gone bad? and dropped out of school. His quiet demeanor and excellent combat ability made him a silent but deadly opponent.

Everyone knew Swan wanted to address the situation with the markers, but didn?t know what he had planned. The meeting was to determine how each member would spend his working hours, and how they would delegate tasks to the down-lines. This meeting was beyond mandatory.

Why, then, Cochise was nowhere to be found was beyond any of them. Out of the Big Six, he was the only one not there.

Cowboy: I tried his house. His sister said he hadn?t been home since morning.

Rembrandt: He?s usually the first one here. When something comes up, he hauls ass.

Hustler: Before he left the bar, he said he might want to do a little benching. But that gym gets crowded by 11. He would have gone in earlier.

Swan: Okay, for now let?s just get to it; we?ll fill him in after. Here?s what I found out from Tony. Looks like there?s another group trying to etch their way in. They?ve been recruiting around town and they?re looking to cash in on our property. Everyone knows we?ve made a lot out of this place, we?ve got a lot cooking. Problem is he doesn?t know who it is.

Vermin: A group of chumps couldn?t have just decided they wanted to test our lines.

Snow: And those colors don?t match up.

Swan: Exactly. Plus, we got plenty of space between us and the smaller outfits. They?ve got no cause to complain.

Rembrandt: But that?s because they know their place.

Roger: Right. Even if they weren?t happy, they couldn?t do anything about it. Nobody would try to build because they couldn?t match our numbers.

It was true. In their parts, when the word ?gang? was mentioned, the only image the mind could conjure was that of the Warrior. Nobody else came close to their outfit as far as numbers, skill, and their way of operating in one collective body. At war in the Warrior army, one member was almost an extension of the other. Cleon had said that was the only way to do it.

Hustler: But somebody must have laid something down. This isn?t the type of thing that gets done while you?re in your planning stages.

Rafe: That?s just it though. None of the minors are doing anything different than they usually do. It?s like there?s some separate group at work. But wouldn?t they have taken out the minors first?

Cowboy: Only if they wanted a trail of blood. Too easy for us to pick up on. We could have gotten ready for something like that.

Swan: Here?s what we do. For now, we can?t let on to the little guys that we?re shaky about this. Usually we know who to look out for as far as bullshit goes, but this time it?s not so easy. Nobody knows anything. Roger, Earl, you two get all the light-footed scouts on patrol. Get the fastest ones and send them unmarked to any outlying group. Put ?em on a boat and float them out on the goddamn ocean if you have to. Rafe, Vermin, you guys head uptown or wherever, try to win over some pothead for info. Cochise is gonna go with you. Rafe, make use of your usual sources. Wes, I want you, Boss, and Tino to round up all our muscle and get them informed that they needed to be in top form?yesterday. If something goes down, we?ll need fast numbers. Rembrandt, see to it that all our original borders are reestablished. Give the guys til sundown to get it done. Assign them to a specific post and tell ?em to make it a point to go by them every couple of patrolling hours. Snow and Cowboy, stop by my place later tonight. You guys are about to be born again.

Having confirmed their duties, the Warriors set about making side plans to make sure everyone was on the same page. Meanwhile, a runner gave a knock at the door.

Earl stuck his head out the front door for a moment, whispered a few words, and popped back in. His brown skin was three shades paler in a matter of seconds.

Swan: Whatcha got, Earl?

Earl: Bad news.

You got me on the edge of my seat i want to know what happens and who the gang is.

Next installment: Thanks again for reading!
IV. I Spy

At New York Community Hospital, Cochise lay silent. Vermin couldn?t make sense of all the tubes poking in and out of his skin, and there wasn?t an inch of his face that wasn?t bruised, swollen, or both. Rembrandt, Cowboy and Snow had already come by earlier, and Hustler was going to bring a few of the guys in tomorrow to see him. Even if he didn?t realize it, Cochise would not be alone there.

Swan didn?t understand what had provoked the attack. Cochise was never the type to just mouth off to someone, especially not a group of dudes. He wasn?t marked, and there were no battles going on. He could?ve taken on a two-bit mugger, but a few of them, packed, could do damage. What was the deal?

Vermin: They wanted his blood. But who?s ?they?? Some deranged muggers or something?

Swan: If it was a group of muggers, they must?ve been pretty damn off this morning. So busy rearranging his face, they forgot to snatch his wallet.

Swan walked to the doorway of the room. There was a tiny waiting area situated against a far wall, with a radio in one corner. In the furthest corner sat Amelia, Cochise?s older sister, and his Aunt Diane. Swan knew that it was Cochise?s mother?s dying wish that her son and daughter were kept in a safe home and out of the streets. So far, Amelia had done just that, having completed high school while having a full time job and moving on to community college. She also tried, with no success, to motivate Cochise to do something similar, but he just wouldn?t. He was determined to do?something else.

Amelia sat, pretending to read a magazine, all the while glancing in the direction of Cochise?s room. Diane was slumped over, asleep. Suddenly, Diane jumped awake, looking at her surroundings. Then, realizing where she was, burst into tears. Swan turned away, trying to numb himself. It was the second time she?d done this since he?d been there, and a nauseating feeling kept overcoming him. He guessed it was because he didn?t want to know the pain she was feeling. He guessed he sympathized.

Vermin knelt close by Cochise now:

Vermin: You?re making everyone crazy. So this has to stop. You gotta come back to us, man. You?ve got to.

Earl?s skin was caramel smooth, and his large brown eyes looked more sad than anything else on most occasions. His hair was coal black and cut close to his head. At 5?8??, he was smaller than most boys his age but what he lacked in size he made up for in balls and stealth. Roger?s blonde hair was always worn in a shaggy ?Beatles? style, and his gray eyes were almost catlike. His face was mostly masculine, except for the stubborn spray of freckles on his nose. He was about 5?10?? and at first considered to ?pretty? to sport the leather, but his finesse in the toughest situations and ability to scan an area and make out every corner of the layout eventually earned him his tag.

Despite their obvious differences in appearance, they were most often referred to by the family as The Twins. As kids they were inseparable and now as young adults they hadn?t missed a beat. As they did their best work by playing off each other, they usually patrolled at the same time and in battle could tag-team just about anybody. They were making their rounds the following mid-morning when they hit pay dirt at the information bank.

Roger: What the s---?

Earl: He better be trying to jump.

They were situated on a rooftop, trying to see as much of the area as possible, when something moving in the corner of Roger?s eye startled him. Earl saw him, too: he was in plainclothes. He was on a building close inside the Warriors? border. He was surveying Warrior territory?but he wasn?t a Warrior.

Almost as soon as they spotted him, he caught their stare and in a flash was off the rooftop and heading down a back alley. The twins hastily made their way after him. The surroundings became a blur, the only clear spot in their vision being the target. Nobody was going to give chase in their lines and make it out. They rounded a corner, when suddenly the mark cut into a dilapidated building that should have been boarded up. Roger made his way around the other side of the building, hoping to corner him in the adjacent alley. Earl kept hot on his heels. Up the stairs, out of a third story window, and onto a frighteningly loose fire escape, Earl had him cornered. He couldn?t believe who they?d been chasing. This guy?or kid, actually?was about as skinny as Rembrandt but had the attitude of two Ajaxes. The only reason he looked larger from afar was because his clothes must have been two sizes too big for him. He didn?t look scared to be caught at all. Instead, he just glared at Earl, wearing a smirk that dared him to try something with him. Impressed, Earl gave him a chance to identify himself before pounding his angelic face in.

Earl: Looking for a lost dog? Here?s a hint, bastard: say yes.

The boy just stared at him, the smirk growing.

Earl: There?s nothing funny here, man. Shouldn?t you be in school anyway?

Boy: Shouldn?t you? Or did you flunk so many times they gave up on you, m---- f----?

That did it. Earl was ready to take off his belt and whip some sense into this little bastard, the same way his mother did him when he got out of line. He couldn?t waste him; he was just a kid. But he was going to remove him from the building and make sure he learned his place on their turf: outside. Just as he moved in, the boy whipped out a small can from one of his large pockets, hit the nozzle, and let loose.

Earl was blinded temporarily, and when he managed to somewhat clear his sight, the boy was heading across the street and out of bounds.

Still partially blinded, he met Roger inside, halfway down the staircase.

Roger: Damn, man. He pulled a Rembrandt on you!

Earl: Huh?

Earl looked down at his hands. What he thought was the smell of bug repellent was actually paint, and his hands, face and shirt were stained a deep purple.
* * *

Tony: I know I shouldn?t be surprised to see you, but dammit, I am. Good to have you back!

Swan: (Poking his head in the door) Yeah, well, this sounded like a job bigger than me.

Tony: Anywhere?s a start.

Swan: Maybe, but just in case, I brought company. Maybe you can fill them in, too.

He opened the door all the way, revealing Snow and Cowboy. Both boys wore button down shirts and their best jeans. They were slight but effective changes. Even Cowboy?s ever-present Stetson was missing today.

Snow: Hello, Sir.

Cowboy: (with a slight country accent) Hi, Sir.

A look of fatherly pride washed over Tony?s face. ?Well. Let?s work.?

The three Warriors looked at each other a bit nervously. This was going to be some item.

Wow! Keep going Tomboy! This Fan fiction is amazing!

This is longer than I thought it would end up, but to those of you who have been following, I thank you, and it won't be long, promise! Anyways, here's the next part:

V. Crumb Snatchers

Rafe and Vermin decided to start off in Brooklyn and, depending on where they heard the action was, travel to outlying cities afterward. However, they couldn?t go to many of Rafe?s usual info spots until after dark, so they planned to keep close to their own turf this morning. They needed to get most of their touring done in a couple days, before word started to spread about the ?nosy bastards? asking about strange happenings.

Vermin: I got a call from the twins. Said some kid Remmed Earl up and then took off. Used a gay color, too.

Rafe: So they didn?t find out what he was doing there?

Vermin: Naw. Earl said he couldn?t have been more than twelve or thirteen. Little s---stopper was probably trying to make a name for himself, he just better not do it on our rooftops again.

Rafe: Well, the main outfits are going to get looked into today. Just to cover a bit more space, Roger and Earl are heading over to Staten to see what the Plainsmen are up to, right? (Vermin nodded) They?re about a hundred deep like we are. We should hit them up along with Brooklyn.

Vermin: I had a feeling they?re gonna have a hard time getting people to choke up some info. I gave them extra.

It was common practice to give something to snitches for information, especially money or drugs.

Vermin: Then we got Troy and this newer guy, Tek. Troy said he had a feeling he could get some word from the Terriers? turf, so they went up to Bedford-Stuyvesant. Good news, too. That Tony guy wants Swan to walk around our turf this morning, to convert people in?get this?our outfit.

Rafe: (chuckling) That gives us some extra time, then.

Vermin: Unless there?s someplace else.

Rafe: Oh, yeah?

They were both thinking the same thing. Since what seemed like the beginning of time, the Warriors had beef with the Red Hook Shooters. Their turfs were fairly far apart, but for some reason they kept butting heads. Their gang was about half the size of the Warriors but that didn?t stop them from finding numerous ways to p--- the Warriors off: shooting off at the mouth, intercepting merchandise transports, and on one occasion actually snitching to cops about some of their deals, in hopes of getting the business for themselves. Cleon always said they acted like crumb-snatchers, little rodents feeding off of discards instead of making their own setups. Their mutual hatred made for some bloody battle on more than one occasion. Vermin and Rafe couldn?t wait to catch the subway.

Swan, Cowboy and Snow headed up the small flight of stairs to Swan?s apartment. After seeing Tony in person, Snow and Cowboy understood what made Swan?s skin crawl.

Snow: I know his type. I saw too many of them growing up. ?I want to help, I can change the world,? but then he goes home and smokes grass like the rest of us.

Cowboy: I kinda like it. I bet if we asked, he?d share a joint.

Having gone over their ?campaigning? strategy with Tony, they now needed to come up with a real one. Mercy was on her way out as they approached the door. She pointedly avoided Swan as she tried to pass, but he took her arm.

Swan: Where you going?

Mercy: Work.

Swan: Since when?

Mercy: I started three days ago.

Swan: Well, why didn?t you tell me?

Mercy: Where do you think I?ve been?

Swan: Who the hell knows?

Mercy: I didn?t tell you ?cause you didn?t ask. And?you haven?t been around.

She turned and headed down the stairs, not looking back. Swan watched her for a moment before realizing he wasn?t alone.

Swan: Come on, we?ve got a lot to go over.

The Warriors had a system for preventing being discovered during day-to-day work: do what you do best, first, always. Since Cowboy and Snow didn?t go info-touring (that was reserved for the likes of Fox, Rafe and such), Swan figured they?d fit right in. Plus, they had those Good Guy faces. Swan, knowing the usual areas to get word, knew where to send them. Always the fearless leader, he saved the other, lesser known areas for himself. He came upon a series of small joints stationed away from the main tourist traps. The local kids knew to come here for entertainment when they wanted to be around other regulars and pay decent prices for their fun. Many of the best drug deals were made in these spots, too, since most of the time cops paid more attention to the main strips of town. Just outside one business was a male drawing in a notepad, a crate of spray paint next to him.

Swan: Aren?t you afraid to get caught with those? Pigs are always looking to catch a tagger.

Tagger: The most they could do is take my stuff. I can get more.

The guy looked to be in his early twenties, slight, but had a worn face.

Swan: What would you say to your parents if you got locked up for tagging? I mean you don?t have to answer to them, I guess, but still?

Tagger: I have to answer to them. When I?m home. So I don?t go.

Swan: Wait, how old are you?

Tagger: You some kind of pedophile or somethin??

Swan: No, I go around for the Chase Center.

Tagger: Oh. Then, I?m fifteen.

Swan: Look, I don?t mean to horn in, but they got a program for the arts. You know, like taking classes? You can do that if you want. Unless you got a group that?s got something to say about it.

Tagger: No group. I don?t do that. I just paint?and stuff?

Swan: Here?s their address and number to a hotline, it?s toll free.

The boy reached for the card Swan was holding, and as he lifted his arm, Swan noticed his other habit. Track marks dotted the inside of his arm. Swan couldn?t break his stare before the boy noticed.

Tagger: Yeah, that?s why I don?t go home. They threw me out.

Swan: They didn?t want to help you?

Tagger: I?m nothin? compared to them. They threw me out because they didn?t want me taking theirs. And they didn?t want Child Protection to come for me and then start sniffing around them.

Swan: I heard they?re not that motivated around these parts of town anyway.

Tagger: (leaning in) I?m not from here. I?m from Boston.

Swan was temporarily out of words. As a bus pulled up to the curb, the boy quickly gathered his things (along with the paints was a large plastic bag, something Swan hadn?t noticed before.)

Tagger: I gotta go, that?s my ride. Thanks though.

Swan: I mean it, check it out. The program?s good.

Tagger: Yeah, we?ll see.

Swan really did mean it, but had that feeling in his gut again. He didn?t know what caused it more: the fact that the rehab center the boy really needed to go to had a mile-long waiting list, or the fact that deep down, Swan knew the boy wouldn?t use the card anyway.

Mercy began working at the mall for one main reason: she would get 20 to 50 percent off the clothes in the store, and it was one of her favorites. Not to mention the fact that she was bored. Usually, she made her money an easier way, but that was out of the question now. She couldn?t believe she was settling for just above minimum wage for some guy who was turning into more and more of a zombie each day. But she liked him a lot, and sort of hoped it was just a phase. A couple of girls her age were in the storage area when she came in to lock up her purse. Maya and Olivia were just Mercy?s type. They wore their clothes well and loved to turn heads. Plus, they loved to party. On Mercy?s first day, they filled her in on a club opening in Manhattan that week, one that they were sure everyone would attend. Mercy hadn?t been out in weeks, and needed an outfit to stop traffic.

Olivia: You?re just in time?I was about start setting these out on display, but I was gonna save one for you.

Mercy: That?s hot!

The dress was a clingy number with a halter-style top. Mercy had to have it, but didn?t get paid for another week. Luckily, Olivia and Maya knew her situation and were going to set one aside, alright?in Maya?s purse. Friends do that for each other, they figured.

Boss was just finishing up his daily rounds and was turning the corner to his final stop before heading over to the home base to settle up. The only merchandise he was dropping off today were designer wallets and some jewelry, and could all fit in to a standard-sized gym bag. The flash of sirens stopped him dead in his tracks.

He watched in disbelief as his biggest customer that day, a $10,000 arrangement, was led to a squad car in cuffs. This couldn?t be happening, he thought. But I?m damn lucky.

Vermin and Rafe exited the subway station precariously. They were very familiar with the streets around Red Hook; they had done some fighting there not too long ago. But for that very reason they had to watch their backs. Rafe knew he could count on some numbnut for a quick exchange, but where would they be midday?

The streets were lined with litter and junkies. Even though it was a while before Happy Hour, the bars were packed with older guys. A few blocks away from the subway station a known affiliate and independent dealer was perched on a brownstone stoop. Rafe made him instantly: they called him Poser. He was a cousin of one of the Shooters, who had their hands in weed and some cocaine. Because he was family, he got by when many a time he needed his ass kicked. He had a habit of using as much as he sold, and word was he was getting further and further sucked in. Vermin had never seen him before, and Rafe had an idea.

Rafe: Okay, he?s seen me around here before so I gotta stay put. But you can talk to him. Just act like a dealer, act like him. I guarantee when you mention we got this snow from Jamaica he?ll talk. He?ll point you to the Shooters in a second. They pay his light bill, you know. He may have some good info if you press him. He?s got a loose tongue, so they wouldn?t tell him much, but who knows?

Vermin walked, cocaine in pocket, to the young man. He was about Vermin?s age. Young enough to be hotheaded, just at that age where bragging rights outweighed business sense. Vermin looked in his general direction as he almost walked passed. Then, with a feigned look of concern, he made a beeline toward him.

Vermin: You look a little sick, man. You alright?

Poser: A bit tired, man, that?s all. I need a f---ing break. You know?

Vermin: What?re you doin?? ?Cause, you know? what?re you doin?

Poser just made sidelong glances either way and raised his eyebrows.

Vermin: Oh yeah. Well, look, whaddaya got?

Poser: Shhhh?

Vermin: (whispering) Right, whaddaya got?

Poser: Grass, man. I?m tapped for everything else.

Vermin: You shopping? ?Cause I got some snow.

Poser: It?s probably s---, man. I know where the good stuff is around here and they?re waiting on another supply.

Vermin: Jamaica.

Poser paused for a moment, then nodded in the direction of the entryway. ?Let?s go.?

Vermin: What if someone hears?

Poser: Nobody?s home. Just me. Come on.

Vermin had to smile to himself. Dealing in front of his own house? This guy really was an idiot. Just like the Shooters.

Meanwhile, Rafe crossed the street and made a quick call to their home base. He could see Vermin and Poser heading into Poser?s building, and didn?t expect Vermin to take much longer.

Rafe: Yeah, we got a loudmouth right now. Vermin?s getting some word, I?m sure?what??But they got, like, a mile to their names?alright. We?ll be back in a couple.

Vermin pulled out the small bag. Poser put his finger in the bag and tasted it. ?Nice.?

Vermin doubted Poser knew what the hell it was supposed to taste like, but agreed with him anyway. ?Yeah. I?m looking to supply but I don?t know who could make me the most money. I know there are some cliques around?

Poser didn?t waste any time. Good merch was needed in his area, and his cousin would definitely increase his payroll for this stuff. ?I know a clique that can make your ass rich. With this s--- it?s a guarantee.

Vermin: How big?

Poser: About sixty.

Vermin: I dunno. Are they looking to get any larger?

Poser: They like to operate as a smaller group, but they get more people as they get more space. They?re trying to move down toward Coney, ?cause it?s wasted space. A buncha faggots are over there right now.

Vermin: You mean the Warriors?

Poser (with a sick look on his face): Yeah. But first they gotta build a bit, you know? But they will. They will. Just, right now it?s tough. So, they may have to team up. But still, you?ll be rich enough on our own turf here, and since they supply a couple of smaller outfits, you won?t be able to hold the stuff. Really.

Vermin: Who are they?

Poser: The Shooters, man. They?re real tough.

Vermin: I heard the Warriors had it made.

Poser: Maybe they did, but look what happened to ?em. They?re like fish out of water when they leave their front porches. They can?t hold their s--- together much longer. It?s just a matter of time before a couple of groups get together, man. Then it?s all over?

They were interrupted by the sound of garbage cans being toppled over.

Vermin: Let?s make this quick. I want a C. Hell, he thought, may as well make a penny, if I can.

Poser. Here. Get in touch with me. I?m usually here.

Vermin made his way back around the corner. Rafe was wiping his hands off as he approached.

Rafe: S---, that?s gross. Look, we gotta head back and re-strategize. I called home and it looks like someone made out half of that X-mark you saw over our tags. And whaddaya know, it was a smaller outfit after all! But they think there?s a problem.

this is real good, please continue!
I cant get enough of this story

My god i got good feedback for my story but this is just pure brilliance

I've only got a few more sections left, thanks again to everyone reading!!


VI. Come Together, Right Now

The buzz of whispers came to a halt as Swan stepped in with Snow and Cowboy.

Swan: Okay. Who made them?

Troy: (nodding to Tek) We did. Tek came here last year from Bath Beach. Those are Jones Street Boys colors.

Tek: They wasted one of my friends a couple years ago. They?re the only ones that wear yellow on black. But while we were waiting for the subway I called my cousin back there. He said he doesn?t see those colors any more, hasn?t for weeks. It?s like they disappeared or something.

Swan: I doubt they disbanded, though.

Snow: At the conclave they must have been wearing those colors. Cyrus picked them right out. They were standing next to the Saracens, too. They hate each other.

Cowboy: You know what? Even with a truce on, I didn?t want to be by the Shooters. We might not have been fighting but, hell, I didn?t want to see them either.

Vermin: You know, it kinda makes me think. This douche I was talkin? to in Red Hook said the Shooters are on their way to being big timers. They just need to build. He mentioned that maybe later on, they would team up.

Swan: Maybe somebody else beat them to it.

Rembrandt: Must have. ?Cause it turns out those weren?t the only colors covering our marks.

Swan: What?

Rembrandt: I had every tagger report to me what they found and what they fixed. They ended up going to the largest displays first, and filled in the smaller ones after. They worked all night, so I didn?t hear ?til earlier today. Whoever did it used different colors on a few of them. (he read from a list) Orange, white, yellow, black, purple, green.

Vermin: Then we?re back at square one. I mean hundreds of soldiers wear those colors. Hundreds.

Swan: But only a few of them would want to test our lines.

Boss: And drop dimes on our business.

Everyone looked to Boss, mouths ajar.

Boss: I was making that ten grand drop this morning and the cops beat me by about ten seconds.

Snow: I thought the cops had their hands in that guy?s pot, too.

Boss: Some did, I think he?s gonna get off when his buddies catch wind what happened. But we were scheduled to meet at 11:17. Exactly. A couple scouts were watching his block all day and he was completely open with what he was doing. Then all of a sudden, boom, the fuzz is there. Right at 11:17. I think they were looking for me.

Earl: It?s all a jumble, but it makes sense, too, man. First the boarders, then Cochise, then that punk we caught surveying our turf, now this?wait; Rem, you said purple was on the list? (Rembrandt nodded his affirmation.) That kid used purple on me.

Swan: No bunch of ankle biters would cross the Warriors. If there?s a connection, somebody put him up to it. Maybe it?s safe to say somebody?s trying to pick us off, one by one, ?til there?s no leaders left. Gangs have too much pride to lie about their colors. We?ve gotta make those colors.

Cowboy: You know where we could find out.

Swan: Yeah, I do. Dammit. Okay, nobody make a move onto any more turf until tomorrow, when we meet again. I?ll get the word around of when. (He gestured toward Snow and Cowboy.) Guys, let?s go.

Swan sighed heavily. His skin was crawling again.

As Swan made his way back to the Chase Center with Snow and Cowboy in tow, a lot was swimming through his head. Here it was, only four o?clock, and he had already heard half a dozen life stories, tried unsuccessfully to help a kid junkie, had a fight with his old lady and now was about to butter up a street preacher in hopes of wasting someone who was horning in on his turf. He thought about the things he?d done that day just to get to this shameful goal. He knew if there was a hell, he?d be going there. It didn?t used to matter; now he wasn?t so sure.

Swan decided to level with Tony, hoping his street sense would allow him to see things Swan?s way.

Swan: Well, I handed out some cards. But how often does that work?

Tony: First, let me just say thank you. I know I said it a million times this morning, but I really do appreciate it. Second, it usually doesn?t, but we have to keep trying, hoping that we can get through to at least one person.

Snow: We appreciate the chance to serve the community. I just wish there was a way to find more people who need help.

Swan: Darryl?s right. I think maybe if my friends and I went out at night instead, we?d see more people. But we need to watch our backs. I know these street gangs are popping up all over, and I don?t want to run into any the wrong way.

Tony: I know just what you mean. I really like you guys for some reason. So, here. I have some information you can read to keep in mind of when you?s all are doing your canvassing. These are statistics of street crime and a couple complaints filed with police around the area. Some of these cities may look strange to you. It?s because they?re not all Brooklyn; sometimes we get real good tips from other boroughs. Mainly Manhattan; there?s a lot of big gangs there. Just don?t show this to anybody not working for us. You never know what kind of street gang could be tapping in to whatever info gets leaked.

You have no idea, Swan thought.

Mercy got home around 5:30, while Swan, Snow and Cowboy were pouring over the ?couple? of police reports Tony had given them. They were so far under the paperwork they didn?t even notice her arrival. She wasn?t used to walking in to a room full of men and getting no attention at all.

Cowboy: I don?t get it. How are we gonna find a pattern in this heap?

Snow: The descriptions of the faces are basically the same, but the clothing is what I?m looking at.

Swan: And the locations.

Cowboy: Oh. In that case, I think I see something.

Mercy sucked in a chest full of air and exhaled sharply. The three men looked at her with startled looks on their faces. Swan quickly looked back away from her, which really pushed her over the edge. She marched to the back of the apartment, slamming the bedroom door shut behind her.

Snow: Look, man, how are things?really?

Swan: She?s playing that goddamn head game girls play. She wants me to apologize for being busy, for having something to do besides kiss her ass. I?m not gonna say I?m f---ing sorry for being what I am.

The other two just looked at him, then at each other. Then both broke into restrained chuckles.

Swan: I?ll be right back.

As Swan made his way to Mercy, Snow and Cowboy continued their research.

Snow: So, what did you find?

Cowboy: I?m looking at Manhattan right now, and it looks like some Rogue-type stuff. Every weekend?every last weekend?there was some kind of mugging, vandalizing, even a few rapes. Lots of stabbings or shootings, too. All of these guys were wearing black leather clothing. Then, right after Hell Night, they stopped.

Snow looked over to a group of paper piles he?d laid aside. This stack, of cases originating in Brooklyn, featured various gangs he knew well.

Snow: Most of these are Red Shooters, and Warriors. But there are some others. The guys in this pile were all described as wearing yellow and black. We know that?s Jones Street. This other pile has a bunch of guys wearing black T-shirts, with white trim.

Cowboy: Saracens?

Snow: Right on. All the piles had reports dated right up until a few days ago except these two. Their reports are at least a month old. Then I have a small stack with a new group of dudes wearing all black. Their reports lead right through our turf.

Cowboy: You know what that means.

Snow: Yup. I think we got our fellas.
* * *

Swan: I don?t understand you at all. You got nothing to say to me all of a sudden?

Mercy: You ain?t any better. You can?t seem to make your mind up about anything. You hate it here, you wanna go. Then you wanna raise hell some more. I told you I can?t take that s---. In the past few days you did another 180; now you?re playing undercover cop. The whole time, you?re not talkin? to me. I just wanna know where this is heading between you and me.

Swan: This is exactly why I didn?t want you getting involved. This is what I have to do to stay on top of everything. I have to change like this. You should know that.

Mercy: You know what I think? I think we?re too much alike and it bugs you. I think you see somebody like me change my ways the tiniest bit and it sets you off. You think I want a freakin? wedding ring or something, when what I really want is to stop having to guess about you. I think you think you?re staying on top, but you?re not going to stay there that much longer. You need to have one stable thing, or you?ll just keep coasting. And now that your gang isn?t it, you don?t know what to do.

There was a long pause.

Swan: Yeah, let me guess, you can make it all better?

Mercy: Go to hell.

Swan could feel the tension in the air, but he kept his cool. He made it back out to the living room in time to hear Snow mention they may have identified their men. He smiled ruefully, relieved that, at least for the night, he could have faces to put on the shadows in his nightmares.

nice installment im really enjoying this story.
continue soon, Tomboy!

Here's the next section, with the conclusion to follow.

VII. Night Fever

It had only been 48 hours since Cochise had been placed in the hospital, and yet in street terms, he had missed a week?s worth of activities. Swan pondered all that had gone down as he watched the rise and fall of his friend?s chest. The swellings had gone down, but the bruises were as deep and angry as ever, especially on his arms. Even if he made it out of this, it would take Cochise a while to fully recover. In addition to the surface damage, he had also suffered a broken collarbone, two cracked ribs and a broken hip. Swan could tell by his rap sheet that at some point during his ordeal, he could no longer fight and simply took as much damage as he could, but his retreat didn?t satisfy the other guy. Or guys.

Just as he had figured, his nightmare progressed the previous night. He used to be running from faceless figures in the dead of night, when all of a sudden day broke and he was safe. Last night, he slowed to a stop as the sunlight mercifully hit his face, giving him a guiding light. But now the figures remained at his heels, and just as he realized he wasn?t safe like he thought, they attacked. He shuddered as he thought of how recent events were reflecting his nightmares over and over again. He knew as long as he was on the street nothing would get better for him, and he was fed up with things getting progressively worse. But at the same time, he had family and friends now. He saw these guys more than his own brother. In a way, they were his brothers, too, right?

Mercy was somewhat satisfied at her small victory: she had mastered the cash register. She smiled to herself as she rang up a large green scarf for a preteen looking boy. Olivia was ringing up another customer on the other side of the cashier table, and was chatting Mercy?s ear off about the club opening that night.

Olivia: Mercy, this club Coasters will be where all the big dudes are, I swear. And we will be the finest girls! You might find a solution to your little home problem, you know.

Mercy: Maybe I will. I?m nobody?s old lady.

Boy: You sure ain?t, mama.

Mercy: What?

Smirking, the boy tucked his change in his pocket and walked away. Mercy was tempted to call him back and check all his pockets; his clothes were so baggy she figured he must have been boosting something. And nobody gets away with that s--- around here but me, she thought.

The leading Warriors met at Rembrandt?s house that afternoon. Snow and Cowboy had already informed the group of their discovery and were now shifting focus to where they could get more information about the possible hookup when Swan walked in.

Vermin: What?s happening, Chief?

Swan: Well, they upgraded Cochise?s condition to serious. Hopefully he?ll come out of it soon.

There was a round of quiet cheering and words of good faith as Swan walked to the center of the room and took a seat.

Swan: Any ideas for a new M.O.?

Rembrandt: Not much we can do, ?til we can catch them.

Swan: We can?t go lookin? for trouble right now, either. Looks like every move we make, they?ve been a step ahead. This has never happened before.

Rafe: You know why? They probably got someone soldiering right now. I can?t believe it?s this f---ing tricky.

Vermin: I don?t know about you, but I ain?t seen any dudes dressed in head to toe black.

Rembrandt: It would be easier if we could make these other colors out, too. But they never kept the design the same. Same colors, different styles. It?s impossible.

Wes: Guess all we can do is wait?

Swan: Like punks.

In the end, they decided to do more than that. They would go guerilla style. They figured since their little friends were already there, they had no need to tour anymore. They could catch them right there, and on home turf it would be easier to waste them, after they got their answers. They would begin that night. They knew that much of whatever these jerks were planning wouldn?t happen until the dead of night, just as the police reports had said. What these guys didn?t realize was that Warriors never slept.

Swan: Well, I thought we could talk or something, but, what the hell? I?ve been waiting all day and you?re just gonna rush in and rush out?

Swan watched as Mercy finished brushing the last bit of blush on her cheeks and fluffed her hair. Upon seeing that he was back home before she was, she was quite surprised. That didn?t stop her from avoiding him despite the cramped space the apartment afforded. He played along, until he realized what all her rushing around was for: she was dressing up, and leaving again.

Mercy: Would you get out of my goddamn way?

Swan: Not ?til you tell me where the hell you?re going dressed like that!

Mercy: Dressed like what? Like I?m not a housewife? Who the hell are you to tell me what to wear?

Swan: You?re looking for trouble. Just like when I met you, nothin? but trouble.

Mercy: I?m sick of this s---. You don?t want my time? I?ll spend it someplace else. So I?m going to Coasters with my friends. We are gonna have a ball. And I?m not gonna be thinkin? about you, or worryin? about you. Not tonight.

She didn?t look back as she slammed the door behind her.

Rembrandt and Vermin were sitting tightly by Cochise now. His sister had left to take Aunt Diane home. After two days, she had finally given in to Amelia?s pressures to take care of herself, lest she be even less apt to care for Cochise when he came to.

Vermin: Serious condition. What exactly does ?serious condition? mean anyway?

Rembrandt: I guess that he?s gonna come back, but just not yet. Like the fog in his head is clearing.

They were both startled to see movement behind Cochise?s closed eyelids. His lips parted and a tiny breath escaped, followed by a low growl.

Vermin: Hey! Cochise, man, can you hear me?

He could, and the fog was clearing more and more every second.

Mercy arrived in front of Coasters and ducked in to the middle of the line, where Olivia and Maya were already standing.

Mercy: What?s going on? They?re not letting anyone in?

Maya: No, they?re just not letting everyone in. But we won?t have that problem.

Mercy: What, do you know the bouncer?

Maya: The bouncer?s a guy. I know what to do?

They finally arrived at the front of the line, and as they approached the door, the bouncer was just getting done flexing some serious muscle to the poor soul that tried to get in before them.

Bouncer: Get the f--- outta here. What? You wanna say somethin??

He turned his attention to the three girls. The three of them gave him their sexiest smiles.

Bouncer: Nice. But we?re full of girls already. You?ll have to come back later?

Before he could finish, Maya slowly placed one hand at the small of Olivia?s back, the other on her waist, drawing her in. Leaning in real closely, she whispered loud enough for the Bouncer to hear.

Maya: Let?s go, baby. If I don?t get this frustration out somewhere, I?m gonna explode.

Bouncer: You know what? We can fit a few more in. Go ahead.

As she walked past him and entered the club, Mercy couldn?t help but crack a chuckle at his cheesy grin.

Swan sat on his couch, fuming at the world. He didn?t understand where the anger was coming from, though. He shouldn?t care if Mercy wanted to go blow off some steam. He was used to blowing off his on the street. Or by sitting by himself for a while, or throwing darts, or whatever. All the while, she stayed put. Was it something else?

He knew it was. It was more than the past couple days. It was more than even Hell Night. He finally knew what was going on inside his head. He understood it now. The nightmares, the sick feeling over that kid on the street, Cochise, Aunt Diane, Cleon and Fox: it all added up. He didn?t sympathize with them. He didn?t feel bad for them. He just felt guilty. Because he had a hand, however indirectly, in so much of what was wrong with all of them. And for what? Status? Not much of one. Turf? They barely had that anymore.

Swan: What the f--- am I supposed to be doing?

He knew he couldn?t make up for what happened to his friends, but he could fix what he screwed up with Mercy. Knowing her temper, if she found something else to attract her attention, she wouldn?t come back. So he?d go to her instead.

On the corner, he stopped by some sharply dressed guys trying to hail a cab.

Swan: Hey, either of you know where Coasters is?

Dude: Hell yeah, bro! We?re on our way now, it?s happenin?. It?s in Manhattan?

Swan didn?t realize it, but he wasn?t the only one in on the conversation. A young teenage boy in a huge shirt ducked in to a phone booth and made a quick call.

Boy: Yeah, I?m about to leave the note at his door, in case he comes back. But he?s already on his way over to Coasters anyway. You better get a move on, man.

Mercy and the girls snaked through the crowd, finally stopping at the bar. Mixed drinks in hand, they headed back on the floor to do some serious dancing. All around them, people were hanging loose, no cares in the world. Mercy found herself getting caught up in the dizziness of it all as her thoughts finally trailed away from Swan. A tap on her shoulder brought her back to reality. She turned around to face a total stranger. He was gorgeous: the dimples in his cheeks gave him a boyish charm, and his cocoa skin coated a finely maintained body. He was one hell of a dude.

Dude: Hey, lady. You look like you?re having a good time!

Mercy could feel her old habits coming back. ?I?m getting there. Any ideas?? Hell, I don?t have to put it all out, she thought. I?ll just flirt a bit.

Olivia and Maya may have had something to say about her leaving with him, but they had already been carried away, deep in to the ever-growing crowd of dancers. Prior to that, they agreed to meet no later than two in the morning back at the bar.

Dude: I?m back here. Why don?t you come sit with me?

?Back here? was actually the VIP room, where the music was distinctively slower, and the girls were distinctively sexier. These women were not just here to party; they were chosen by important people to get a taste of the high life, and they looked the part. Undaunted, Mercy trailed her companion to his booth, where a bottle of champagne already sat.

Mercy: So, what?s your name?

Dude: Derrick. You look sweet, like you have a virtuous name, like Hope, or Faith?

Mercy: It?s Mercy.

Derrick: See? I?m good, I guess. So where are you from?

Mercy: I?ve lived all over New York, but I?m in Brooklyn right now.

Derrick: Well, I hear it?s tight over there, a lot of heavy dudes.

Mercy: Depends on who you ask?

Derrick: Well, Mercy from Brooklyn, why don?t you have a drink?

He handed her a half-filled glass, and as she sipped, he continued.

Derrick: I don?t normally do the club thing, but I kept hearing how this would be the place to be and all. What do you think of it so far?

Mercy: It?s wild?you know people around here, they don?t care about much. I mean, neither do I when I get wild like that, you know? Jesus, that did not just come out of my mouth, she thought suddenly.

Derrick: You okay? You don?t seem like the lightweight type.

Mercy: I?m not?no way?I only had one drink before this.

She tried frantically to make sense of her thoughts, but she could feel heat wash over her whole body.

Derrick: Maybe you need some air. That usually works for me.

His look of concern comforted Mercy as he led her through the wild crowd once again. In Mercy?s mind, it was a circus, with clowns of all colors jumping out at her. She could feel herself going, and fast.

Mercy: Where am I going?

Derrick: Don?t worry about it, just keep your head down.

Outside, they were heading to a parked sedan with tinted windows. They had barely made it to the corner before a familiar voice cut sharply through the street noise.

Swan: Mercy? What are you doing?

As Mercy looked in Swan?s direction, Derrick pulled out a gun and pointed it at him, firing once. The people in line screamed and ran in all directions. Their hysteria took Swan out of Derrick?s firing range as dozens of people swarmed between them both. Swan ducked across the street and knelt behind a small pickup truck as Derrick opened the rear door of the waiting car and threw Mercy in.

Mercy found herself in the company of a familiar face as Derrick slid in the backseat next to her.

Derrick: He?s out there. Let?s move!

As he made a large U-turn out of the side street, the driver threw a wad of paper out of the window.

Mercy: Hey?don?t I know you??

It was all she could say before slipping into the drug-induced blackness.

Swan made his way back across the street, stopping to pick up the paper. The street the paper instructed him to go to was one that Swan had recognized for many police reports from the area. He only hoped he could find it in time.

Amelia raced through the hospital hallways until she reached her brother?s room. Cochise?s eyes were half open, and Vermin and Rembrandt were standing over him, leaning in as he spoke. He was just getting the last words out as she approached.

Cochise: You?gotta get to Swan. That dude?is?he?s gonna get us all. Swan has?to?get him first.

A quick call to home base, and a few patrollers were on their way to Swan?s place. They waited anxiously for their confirmation call to be returned. They knew it was coming, but still jumped when it rang.

Vermin: Yeah?he?s not there? What?what address??Okay, who?s ready to go??Let?s do it. Get the van. We?ll meet you there.

Rembrandt: What?s up?

Vermin: Roger went over there to get Swan. He ain?t there, but there?s a note half sticking out under the door. Park Street in Manhattan. Whoever left it wrote they already had our turf locked down, and they?d kill Mercy if he didn?t show. We already know who that is now. Everybody?s on their way.

Rembrandt: So he really was picking us off. Just like we thought.

Vermin: Yeah. But he f---ed up. Now it?s time for war.

New Yorkers, much like everyone else in the world, had their own way of doing things?even getting to a certain destination. Swan was reminded of that as he tried desperately to locate the street he had to go to. Everyone he asked had a different route. By the time he found his way to the run down building, he came to realize he hadn?t had to go more than a mile or so from the club. Cautiously, he stepped inside. The streetlights illuminated the interior slightly. Suddenly, a lean figure moved into the center of Swan?s vision. Swan walked toward the figure until he could make out his features. Realizing who it was, he had to fight to control his nerves. He was now standing face to face with the person who started all this.

Swan: You?it was you?

wow....that was an amazing section!
*is sad the conclusion is comming up*

Here is the final installment to Crossed Wires. Thanks to everyone for reading, hope you enjoyed following along as much as I did writing it!



Swan: You?it was you?

IX. End of the Line

Swan was sick to his stomach. He stood, motionless, as a smile formed at the corners of Masai?s mouth. Then, Swan?s nerves turned to simmering anger.

Swan: The first time it was an accident. Now what?s your excuse?

Masai: You?d think it was, but (shaking his head), not true. Now I?m just finishing what I started.

Swan: I don?t get it. What did you start?

Masai: The takeover. Just as it was meant to be.

Swan: You mean Cyrus?s plan?

Masai: Cyrus was way off. Wanted all the gangs to unite and harmonize and s---. He was so happy when he got the Moonrunners together with Van Cortlandt. Then he moved into Brooklyn a little with Jones Street and the Saracens. Figured if he could advertise them at that conclave, folks would listen and follow. That wasn?t gonna happen. Not the way he wanted. I tried to tell him but?he had his vision. So I had to move him aside.

Swan: Move him aside? But Luther?

Masai: Luther did what I told him to do. His outfit wasn?t large at all. Just a notorious bunch of motherf---ers. So crazy, people had to fear them. But the fact is, they needed numbers to do real damage. I pulled him aside, let him in on a deal. I could give him those numbers, if gave me your heads. I made sure he didn?t mention it to anybody else.

Swan: What about his group?

Masai: I told him after it was done, we would come together. After it was done, we?d move in where the Warriors used to occupy. He could get a big piece of it. Before that, nobody could know but him. Nobody. But the problem was, you didn?t leave. Luther never got you like I thought he would. He even managed to attract a witness. This other dude walked right in to my dive and ratted him out. I couldn?t keep him. So I got rid of him instead.

Swan: All his delegates were wasted that day.

Masai: They probably thought he shot Cyrus to be the crazy m--- f--- he always was. But I couldn?t take any chances. What if he told them after all?

Swan: So you got Luther to kill Cyrus, and blame us. Went right against what Cyrus was trying to do, hungry for territory. And we were supposed to take the rap all along?

Masai: When Cleon left himself open, it did make my life easier, but yeah. Please believe, it would have been beautiful. Besides, you got a lot more there than ten square feet of ground.

Swan: What about your men? Do they know what a jerkoff you are?

Masai: Yeah. I just held a meeting with all of them and broke the news. Picture that s---. They won?t know. And when I say it?s time to move up, they won?t question. Especially if it means they have more elbow room. My dudes like elbow room.

Swan: It won?t seem strange to them? That after our team?s been kicked around and f---ed with by you, we all of a sudden want to join up with you? Or surrender?

Masai: They don?t know about that. How could they? Y?all haven?t let on?at all. All that s--- went down this week and every last one of you fags kept a poker face. Warriors never run off at the mouth about stuff like that. They?re supertight, right?

Swan thought about all the damage control his gang was running, all the covering up, retagging, undercover work and extra patrolling. He thought they were helping their gang?s image, when really all they did was help Masai?s plan. Their silence ended up costing them dearly.

Masai: Jones Street and Saracens were sworn to secrecy til it was all over. Unlike Luther, they performed. Took care of the larger tasks while my little brothers announced our arrival.

Swan: Those little teenyboppers in hand-me-downs?they work for you?

Masai: The Youngbloods. I pulled a few of my real promising ones aside, you know? Put them on a real special mission. Guaranteed them an upgrade in ranking, complete with Riffs tags if they pulled it off. They did. By the way, tell your boy I said sorry about the purple face.

Swan: You talked a bunch of boys into surveying our turf. Spying on us?you knew where we were all the time?

Masai: I couldn?t send the older dudes. Nobody suspects a bunch of smart-assed kids. They?re green in terms of age, yeah. But they?re chosen royalty. Soon, a large part of Manhattan is gonna be covered in green and purple to show the rising of a new brood, a royal brood. Now here?s the deal. You were supposed to come first on my list, but Cochise?s morning schedule was so routine, I figured I?d take care of him first myself. Boss got away, but you won?t.

Swan: You can try it, asshole. Even if I have to go, the Warriors will never die. And if you touch Mercy--

Masai: She?s knocked out, brother. Knocked out, but safe. (He nodded in the direction of a heavy door that was bolted shut.) And as far as the Warriors go, y?all are already finished. Especially you.

There was a creak in the floors as someone crept toward Swan. It was then that Swan noticed the looming shadows from various sections of the large room. He found himself surrounded as the figures came to light: a twenty-deep sampling of the Jones Street Boys and Saracens closed in on Swan.

No sooner had Swan calculated his situation than what sounded like a stampede barreled through the large room and a mass of brown vested males brandishing chains, bats and crowbars swarmed the floor. The crowd of Warriors easily outnumbered Masai?s faction, and a few of his scared soldiers took off running.

Masai: Where the f--- are you going? Get back here! This is our future, we can take it!

The dozen or so that remained were subjected to a bloodbath that even the Warriors themselves were surprised at the events of. But they had to do it. Their lines had been tested. Their soldiers were singled out and targeted. And because of Masai?s intense greed, they realized that not even their families or loved ones were safe, as Mercy?s kidnapping showed. So their rage had to be made known.

Wes, Tino and Boss made an easy case of a few large fighters. Their bodies became blurs of punches, cracks of bats, and high kicks. Rembrandt, brandishing a metal bat, took one guy out with a few concentrated blows to his midsection. Cowboy had his hands full with a boy twice his size, until Rafe, who was just as small as Cowboy, gave the guy a fierce kick to the groin. Snow and Vermin tag-teamed a soldier who brandished a pair on nun chucks. Grappling him into a bear hug with the nun chucks around his neck, Vermin held him tightly as Snow delivered blow after blow to his chest and head. When they were finished, the soldier was barely breathing.

And fittingly, Swan saw to it that Masai got wasted in a manner fit for street royalty.

In the end, the majority of the Boys and Saracens were knocked out cold. A couple were conscious, but their broken limbs prevented them from fighting any further. Masai lay dead, his broken body awash in stab wounds and bruises.

Limping slightly, Swan made his way to the farthest corner of the large room, to the heavy bolted door. He found Mercy in the room, slumped in a corner. She was awake, but a bit lethargic; mostly scared. As the other Warriors filed out, Swan walked her to the Warrior van, his arms a protective shield from the outside world.

The fact that he could have lost his life so many times stuck in his head enough to convince him that this had to stop. There was enough disruption in his house because of his actions, and he couldn?t go on hurting people he cared about so much. He needed to find something else, fulfillment through another endeavor. His brothers understood when he told them he had to go.

Swan: I can?t say I blame you.

Cochise: My aunt is talking about everything from living with my grandparents to boot camp. Now they?re telling me my body might never be right again.

Swan: What do you want to do?

Cochise: I don?t know, man. I don?t know.

Swan: Well, there is a place I know of, might be able to help you. The guy in charge is a little off, though.

As Cochise, using a cane, limped away, Snow came up to Swan, a bottle of soda in each hand. Traffic on the boardwalk was just starting to pick up this morning, and the sun wasn?t showing any mercy.

Snow: I still can?t believe what went down, and it?s been two weeks.

Swan: I thought Luther was f---ed up. All that screaming he did when Masai came down on him wasn?t out of fear. Just betrayal. Shock. Masai was the f---ed up one.

Snow: At least we won?t have to worry about those Riffs. I figure they?d have wanted Masai gone once they found out all he did anyway.

Swan: I would have. He went about it the wrong way. There?s gotta be a better way to come together than to just take it.

Snow: Look at all the s--- that gets stirred when you muscle your way around.

?Yeah, tell me about it,? said someone nearby. Swan and Snow turned their attention to him, Swan noticeably disturbed.

Snow: Welcome back, Ajax. How ya been?

Ajax: Never better.

Swan: That?s?great.

THE END