Oriphiel

Chapter Two



The three men were making good time on their way back to their territory, however they sat rather restlessly in the orange plastic seats of the subway train as the overhead lights bore down on them with a tiring brightness. Eventually, the third man stood up and began to stretch, saying "Alright, that's it. I'm gettin' off at this next stop." The new blood looked at him incredulously, and said "What are you talking about? We're only two stops away from the Springs." "I just need... I don't know, to go for a walk or somethin'. All this sitting is startin' to beat the hell outta me. Besides, the night's almost over and I've only gotten into one fight." "I hear that," said the first man through a smile. "You can count me in. A little walk would do me good." Though he wasn't amused by this turn of events, the young blood rolled his eyes, and decided to go along with them.

Of course, they were in good spirits, despite the young blood's wound, which now had a torn piece of fabric wrapped around it as a make-shift bandage. They got off the metro train, left the station tunnel, and walked back into the burning and humid night air that covered the city. A short distance ahead of them, two men were sitting on the steps to an apartment building; they were both wearing blue sleeveless shirts, and nonchalantly drank from the bottles they were holding as they eyed the newcomers. One of them smiled, and said "I think those are Red Sleeves. Probably on their way back home from a fight, judging by the tall one's bloody leg." The man sitting beside him lowered his bottle and wiped his mouth, asking "Big guns?" The first man shook his head, and said "No, just regulars. That's why they're called Red Sleeves, you know. 'Cause once a cat proves himself, makes a reputation, he gets his arms covered in tattoos. Red sleeves, yeah? The unproven have to settle for those scarves." "Well, hell," said the second man, as he set down his bottle and stretched his arms, "looks like they just did me a favor, walking through our territory like that. I was just hoping I'd get to have some fun tonight, and the city provides."

Even though the three Red Sleeves were now walking right past the two rival gang members, they didn't notice them at all, being too caught up in their jokes and revelry to see them. The two men stood up, and began to follow the Red Sleeves. "I'm ready. You ready?" asked the second blue shirt, who seemed a little nervous. "Yeah," said the first blue shirt, "done this a thousand times before. Just remember to keep your hands up. You've got a glass jaw, man." "Go screw yourself," replied the second blue shirt. Before long, they had caught up to the Red Sleeves, and the first blue shirt shouted "Hey! You boys lost?" The Red Sleeves turned to face them, and sized their soon-to-be opponents up. One of the Red Sleeves smiled, and leaned into his steps as he walked towards the two blue shirts. "You know, we might just be. I thought that we were makin' our way back into the Springs, but after running into you two scrawny clowns, it's obvious that we took a wrong turn and ended up in the junkie pits." The first blue shirt stepped towards him, saying "You've got balls, kid, I'll give you that. But if you disrespect us again, I'll rip them off and beat you to death with them."

The impetuous Red Sleeve didn't respond; he simply shot out his fist towards the first blue shirt's face. The blue shirt saw the punch coming, and slipped to the side as he stepped towards the Red Sleeve and struck him hard with a hook to the stomach. The third Red Sleeve ran forward and tackled the second blue shirt, and they fell to the ground in a heap. The new blood tried to save the first Red Sleeve, however with his injury he was seemingly no match for the first blue shirt. After taking a few punches, the new blood came to his senses and raised up his elbows, deflecting a punch from his assailant. Almost immediately, the startled blue shirt grabbed his hand in pain, and the new blood quickly seized the opportunity and punched his enemy in the throat with his foreknuckles. Now that the first blue shirt was out of the fight, all of the Red Sleeves focused on their final enemy, and managed to beat him down without much resistance. Leaving the two blue shirts on the asphalt, groaning in pain, the Red Sleeves started back on their way home. "Wait, hold on..." said the youngblood, as he turned around and ran back towards the blue shirts. Kneeling down over the nearest of his enemies, the young blood looked at his shirt: it had a variety of marks and patches on it, probably indicating status. The young blood smiled, forced his opponent out of his shirt, and gave him one final kick to the ribs before rejoining the rest of the Red Sleeves. "A trophy," he said. "Show the boys back home, build up my reputation, you know?" The first Red Sleeve laughed and clapped the young blood on the back, and the three continued on their way.