Young Blood ran through the muddy streets of the 7th ward ghetto at an incredible speed. Without slowing down, he passed the beggars, the drunks, the prostitutes, and the religious freaks who wouldn’t shut up about the gods and goddesses looking out for them. The young man knew exactly where he was going and didn’t have a second to spare. An Outlier was in trouble, which meant some scum had to get wrecked. He sprinted all the way to a small intersection of two muddy streets located at the edge of the 7th ward, the area where Outlier territory ended and Seraph territory in the 6th ward began. The transition between the wards was indistinguishable visually for the tall brick buildings continued unabated from one ward to the next. The only way for one to tell the difference between one gang territory from another was from the tags plastered on almost every building. Young Blood stopped after reaching the intersection where he heard a sound that he had heard earlier, the sound of a beating.

The sound came from an alleyway which Young Blood entered without hesitation. He knew this alleyway, it was where the Outliers had put a tag. In it he found three men beating down a fourth. The three were wearing long green jackets that had a noticeable glint to them. It appeared they were made out of dragon scales, a sign that meant these men cared about their appearance given how expensive dragon scaled clothing was. On the back of their jackets was a drawing of a human head connected to six white wings. For their bottoms they wore blue jeans and black boots. The person they were all beating was the Outlier known as Big Mike. He was on the heavier side, wearing the signature gang jacket with black pants. His head was topped with a black bowl cut. As he was being beaten, he held onto his stomach where a noticeable stab wound was visible. The sight made Young Blood apoplectic.

“Hey!” Young Blood yelled, drawing their attention.

The three assaulters stopped, looking at the young boy. One of them, who was bald with bright blue eyes stepped forward with a smile, brandishing a switchblade.

“Oi oi oi you need something boy? Can’t you see we’re busy?” he asked, throwing the switchblade between his hands in a playful manner.

“Which hand?” Young Blood questioned back.

“Heh what?”

“Which hand do you want me to break?”

The man glanced back at his colleagues, laughing.

“You hear this? Little man thinks he’s about to do something. Thinks he can fuck with the Seraphs.”

“Ha! Is he supposed to be an Outlier? This outfit is a joke. Full of kids and fatasses” one of the others added.

“I told you guys we had nothing to fear from these fucks. The rumor they’re full of real mothers is a-”

Young Blood dashed in towards the armed man, throwing his elbow into his stomach.

“Ack!” the bald man coughed, dropping his switchblade and falling to his knees.

“What the fuck!?” one of the others cursed, still not really sure what just happened.

Young Blood followed up with a right hook to the man’s temple, slamming his head into the wall. The other two Seraphs stepped back, shocked and scared by the display of power.

“Oh shit! Is that kid an aura user?” one asked the other.

Beneath their feet, Big Mike began to laugh.

“Oh y’all fucked now.” he chuckled.

“Shut up fatass!” one of them cursed, kicking Big Mike.

The sight made Young Blood sprint towards them like a speeding bullet. At about 3 yards away he jumped up, kicking the Seraph who hit Big Mike, making him fly back about half a dozen feet out the alleyway.

“You sunava-” the remaining Seraph yelled, throwing a punch down at Young Blood.

The boy simply leaned his head, dodging the blow. He then unleashed a two hit combo into the Seraph’s stomach, making his legs wobble as he tried to remain standing.

Seeing that he hadn’t fallen yet, Young Blood threw more punches. He harried at superhuman speed, launching dozens of punches within a few seconds. The Seraph threw up, falling on all fours. To finish him, Young Blood hit the back of his head with an overhead punch, knocking him down into the mud. The boy looked around, seeing if any one of them were about to get up but they remained where they were. Content that he defeated them, Young Blood focused his attention on Big Mike.

“Are you ok?” he asked, trying to help Big Mike stand up.

“I got stabbed Young Blood do you think I’m ok?!” Big Mike shouted. “Do you have a healing potion or something? I feel like I’m gonna bleed out.”

Young Blood shook his head.

“Damn it, you ran as soon as you heard I was in trouble huh? I guess I’m guilty of the same thing. When I saw the Seraphs tagging our turf I confronted them instead of getting back up. Guess we both act first, think later. Whelp looks like I’m going to die now. Take care Young Blood, I’ll see you on the other side I guess. Hopefully the gods and goddesses will give me a shitload of virgins in the afterlife. ”

“Oh stop being so dramatic Big Mike” a voice interrupted from behind, drawing their attention.

It was West holding a 30ml transparent vial full of a bright green liquid. Behind him was Feral kicking the Seraph Young Blood knocked out of the alleway.

“I got a health potion right here. Drink this, you’ll be fine.”

Big Mike took vial and downed it like there was no tomorrow.

“Oh thank god West you’re a lifesaver. I was about to die.” Big Mike remarked, looking down at his wound.

The stab wound was already starting to close up, as if weeks of healing took place within a matter of minutes.

“You were not going to die even if I hadn’t stolen a healing potion from a vendor on the way here. You got that natural armor to protect you.” West pointed out.

“What do you mean by that?” Big Mike questioned, squinting his eyes at West.

“You know...natural defenses.”

“You trying to say something West?”

“He’s saying you fat Big Mike.” Feral cut in, joining the group. “Cause you are. Got that whale blubber.”

Big Mike stared at them, ready to start a fight. Luckily before anything happened, West noticed the bald Seraph in the alleyway getting up, the side of his head bleeding.

“Hey look that one’s moving” West said, pointing at him.

The others turned around, seeing the Seraph trying to limp his way away from the scene.

“Oi where you think you’re going bitch!” Feral yelled.

The Seraph realized he was noticed, making him try to limp away faster. Feral ran into the alleyway, punching him down to the ground.

“Yo Feral, wait up! I want to get some licks in!” West hollered, running to join up with him.

The two of them were now ganging up on the bald Seraph.

“Hey guys hit him extra hard! That’s the fucker who stabbed me!” Big Mike requested.

“Oh you stabbed my friend?” West asked, stopping his attack.

The Seraph looked up, missing about half his teeth. He tried to shake his head.

“If there’s one thing I hate more than a scumbag who thinks they can mess with the Outliers, is a liar” West expressed, stomping on his head.

West and Feral began taking turns stomping on the Seraph when Young Blood remembered something.

“Wait guys stop!” he called out, walking towards them. “I forgot I said I was breaking this guy’s hand. I gotta do that real quick.”

Young Blood crouched down, looking into the Seraph’s eyes.

“Which hand?”

The Seraph tried to speak but only blood poured out.

“I think he said left” Feral guessed.

“Young Blood, break the right. That’s the hand that stabbed me” Big Mike revealed.

The boy nodded, motioned for Feral to pull the Seraph’s arm into the air. He did so. Without a moment’s hesitation, Young Blood grabbed the hand, bending all the fingers back. The Seraph began to scream in agony as the Outliers trotted out of the alleyway, back to their hideout.

The four of them walked into the winery, where three Outliers were waiting for them. Two of them were Iron and Rockafella, the third Young Blood hadn’t seen for a few days. He was a giant, standing around 6’4. He wore a monkey jacket with the sleeves removed, turning the thing more into a makeshift vest, allowing him to show off his muscular arms. His hair was that of a black buzzcut and he had brown eyes. Finally he wore black cargo pants and steel toed black combat boots.

“Heard you got your ass kicked fatass.” he spat, looking at the group.

Unlike before, Big Mike had nothing to say, he simply nodded his head.

“Go easy on him Lunkhead. Big Mike did the right thing. No one messes with our turf. You good Big Mike?” Iron inquired.

“Yeah, I’m good War Chief. Young Blood really saved my ass.”

“Hey I did stuff too.” Feral cut in.

“No you didn’t. Young Blood did the saving. You and I just had fun at the end” West corrected.

“That counts as stuff.”

“Did you guys take money from them?” Rockafella asked the group.

They shook their heads.

“Guys come on. We need all the money we can get.”

Rockafella began to prate about the need to accumulate as much gold as possible which made Young Blood zone out again. In his state of not thinking about anything in particular, Lunkhead approached, looking down at him.

“You wrecked some heads, pipsqueak?” he asked.

“Uh huh.”

“You don’t think you’re hot shit do ya?”

He bent down so he was eye level with Young Blood. He gave a stare that put Young Blood on edge but he tried his hardest not to show it. He noticed Lunkhead’s knuckles. They were bloody, the skin having peeled off.

“Where’ve you been?” Young Blood inquired, hoping to change the topic.

“Been in the pit for the past week.”

The “pit” referred to the underground fighting arena where the spectators betted money on who’d be the victor. The fighters fought in a small arena surrounded by barbed wire and they could only use their fists. Using any magic or aura was forbidden, it was all pure skill.

“It was a cakewalk. The thing was full of pussies. Even the big ass orcs were disappointing. I need a real challenge. Wanna go for a round Young Blood? Since you think you hot shit?” Lunkhead continued.

Young Blood could feel this pressure emanating from the giant before him, making the boy want to run away.

Fortunately Iron joined them, taking a reprieve from Rockafella’s speech.

“Lunkhead are you trying to start shit with Young Blood again?”

Lunkhead stood up, backing away.

“Nope. Everything’s peachy War Chief. Just need something to break the boredom.”

“You’ve been fighting for the past week. You’re something else.”

“Can’t help being a bopper. Hey about we go for a round?”

“The last time we did you couldn’t walk for a few days. Can’t afford that.”

“I bet I’ll win this time. I need a chal-”

The sound of a window shattering stopped Lunkhead from finishing his sentence. All of the Outliers were now on alert, ready to fight.

“What was that!?” Iron asked everyone.

Big Mike pointed near the entrance. They all looked, seeing that a brick had been thrown through one of the winery’s front windows.

“Outliers!” A voice yelled from outside the building. “C-c-c-c-c-ome on out you f-f-f-f-ucks! We got business!”

“Why couldn’t they just knock?” West asked, picking up the brick.

“Looks like we have some guests.” Iron said, stretching his arms. “Young Blood, go retrieve my sword. I think we’re about to have a rumble.”

Young Blood ran his way into the metal sheet maze, heading straight for Iron’s room, dodging the Outliers who were exiting their rooms to join the others. He barged into the room, heading towards the end of it where a wooden sword was displayed on a desk. He grabbed it and as quickly as he came in, left the room. He rejoined Iron in a flash, handing him the wooden weapon.

Iron took it, examining the weapon. Satisfied nothing was wrong with it, he exclaimed

“Ok boys! Looks like it’s time to soldier!”

“Yes War Chief!” the Outliers yelled back.

By now the whole gang had emerged from their rooms, making the place crowded.

“Looks like you’re gonna get what you wished for.” Iron told Lunkhead.

“Hmph. I doubt it.”

“They’re paying for that window. No matter what happens, they are paying for that damn window” Rockafella grumbled.

Iron raised his sword, letting the others know it was time to confront their visitors. He walked out of the winery, the multitude following behind. In the corner of his eye, Young Blood saw Feral take the brick from West, saying something about the need to return to sender. Lunkhead then tapped him on the shoulder.

“Don’t freeze up pipsqueak. Better bust some heads”

“Definitely.” Young Blood affirmed.

He followed the older boys outside, eager to do work.