Over at the Harlem junk yard, A mass circle of several gangs gathered around a huge heap of metal scrap. The scap piles had been stacked up in a particular way. Around the piles were loose and jagged pieces of sheet metal that had been welded together. Rembrandt, Cowboy and their New Blood, Quentin fought their way amongst the crowd towards the front of the circle. Their opposing teams in the game were The Electric Eliminators, all of which were hopping around preparing to start the match. The three young Warriors looked at each other with excitement in their expressions. The announcer appeared from behind the scrap heaps, wearing The Boppers colours. he climbed up on top of another metal pile, announcing the rules of the game.
"Okay boppers! Welcome to King Of The Hill. The rules are simple. Three boppers from each team climb to the top of the junk pile and survive by kicking their opponents to the ground. The team with the most points or waste the other team wins! You all dig? Are you ready Warriors!? Are you ready Electric Eliminators. On your marks, get set, Go!"
The two teams sprinted for the top, climbing over each other as they went. The first few minutes of struggling paid off as Cowboy made it to the top of heap. One of the Eliminators closed in on him, but was met with a swift kick to the face. He fell back towards the ground and landed in a puddle. Rembrandt struggled and heaved, clambering up onto the second level of metal. As he got to his feet, his eyes met with another Eliminator who had somehow armed himself with a pipe. His heart racing, Rembrandt dodged the attack opponent, planting a punch in the Eliminator's chest. Grabbing the pipe, he climbed up after the third opponent, smacking him in the back of the leg. The Eliminator fell back in agony, clutching his now bloody leg. Quentin passed him, kicking off the pile.
The first Eliminator contestant returned to the game. His face was now covered with blood and dirt. He scaled the junk pile with a furious growl in his voice. Catching Quentin off guard, He pulled the young Warrior by his cut and launched him through the air. Cowboy remained at the top of the heap, as he struggled to fight off his opponents. Rembrandt finally joined him.
"Where's Quentin?" Cowboy asked him.
"Ah shit, he's out cold!" Rembrandt replied, as he spotted the New Blood, unconscious and lying in the dirt. "I guess it's just us two now."
"Yeah." Cowboy agreed, spitting out blood from his busted lip. "We can take them."
The three Eliminators made it to the top of the heap. Cowboy and Rembrandt advanced on them with full adrenaline in their systems. They pounded the living snot out of each one of them. Their muscles aches and throbbed with each punch and kick. Cowboy took the team leader off guard by applying a sweep kick. He watched on with glory as the Eliminator bounced off the heaps and collapsed. Rembrandt kneed another contestant in the face, breaking his nose in the process. He then punched the crying man in the face, knocking him off his feet. They then turned their attention to the third Eliminator. They waited for the opponent to approach their level. Timing it right, they both performed a group attack. Cowboy grabbed the remaining Eliminator, placing him into a tight headlock. He then leant him back, exposing his stomach. Rembrandt threw his fist with full force, hitting the helpless Eliminator with full force. He felt something brake in the bopper's chest. What ever it was, it knocked him out cold. They dropped the lifeless body, staring out at the many faces of a pumped up crowd. They stood there and basked in their victory when the announcer appeared again.
"And the winner of King Of Hill is...THE WARRIORS!"
The crowd roared with mixed emotions. The Warriors name had been shouted out in a victorious chant. Cowboy and Rembrandt left the pile and picked up Quentin. They exited the yard, marching down the empty streets towards the train station.
"We did it man." Cowboy screamed. "We just showed that The Warriors are still the best!"
"I know right. Look we better wake up Quentin. He took quite a beating." Rembrandt replied as he found a shady alley. "Lets take him down there and wake him up. Do you think we were being too hard on him?"
"No." Cowboy said, ignoring the fact that the New Blood was in his teens. "He needed to be toughened up a bit. He's just not ready to hit the streets with us."
Suddenly, as Quentin began to regain conciousness, Rembrandt spotted a familiar group of Soldiers head down the street. One of the men stepped into the white beam of a street light, displaying his Destroyer colours.
"Oh shit, No!" Rembrandt cursed. "How did they know we were here?"
"They must have eyes in every neighbourhood." Cowboy replied. "We need to get out of here."
"What? What's going on?" Quentin mumbled, rubbing his head.
"We need to get to the station. We can't rumble with them now." Cowboy said. "We'll never make it."
Based on a split decision, the three young Warriors headed out into the street, well in view of The Destroyers. The men all locked eyes. A cool and tense silence descended upon them as they all stood there, motionless. They all anticipated the same thing. Who was going to make the first move? Eventually, all of them directed their attentions to the other end of the street. Swan, Mercy and the other Warriors marched towards them from the subway station. Signalling his men to hold their positions, Swan approached the first Destroyer and met him directly in the eye.
"No Warrior is safe." The Destroyer said. "Ceaser will waste all of your asses. Where ever you go, he'll be watching and when he strikes, you boys won't even see it coming."
"We'll see." Swan replied. "Tell Ceaser, The Warriors will be seeing him real soon."
Without a reply, The Destroyers turned and headed down the street into the night. As soon as they were alone, Swan turned to his Warriors.
"So who's idea was this then?" He asked them unimpressed.
"It was my idea War chief I'm sorry." Rembrandt replied, stepping forward.
"It was stupid." Swan continued to lecture the artist. "Next time you decide to go somewhere you ask me okay? We need to stick together now."
"Okay Swan." Rembrandt acknowledged. "So what happens now?"
"We're going back to Coney." Swan continued. "We need to summon a war council."
The Warriors then returned to the station. Rembrandt shook off the remaining adrenaline that was in his system. They sat down on the quiet platform waiting for their train to arrive. The train eventually rolled up. The doors opened allowing the Warriors to step aboard. As the minutes followed, Swan stood there in deep thought with Mercy at his side.
"Hey. You okay?" she asked him, studying the blank expression on his face.
"Yeah." Swan replied bluntly. "Just thinking."
"What about?" Mercy asked.
"About how we're going to survive all this?" Swan replied. "Shits about to come down heavy on us, and we're not going to see it coming."
To Be Continued.