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I stood there, the bottle of Jack at my feet. I saw the men down below staring up at me in disbelief; how on earth was this man going to fight for his life after downing a whole bottle of whiskey? The answer was that I needed it. During the decade I'd spent in the dojo, I'd learned the art of drunken boxing from my shifu, and I'd found that if I actually got drunk, I added an element of surprise, unpredictability, and the added strength of the drunk man along with it. Most challengers never saw it coming. Same with these guys. As I felt the whiskey burn a hole in my stomach, I sauntered down the hill, my balance shot to hell by the alcohol. I must've looked like a total dumbass that way, wobbling my way down the slope and onto the river bank, but I went anyway, ignoring the wide-eyed stares and the confused mumbling. I approached the closest guy and stared at him. He stared back.

"What's the matter, punk? Afraid to beat up a drunk guy?"

I took a step back and waved a hand in the general direction of the rest of them.

"All a' ya'll ain't scared to beat up a guy on the street in broad daylight, so how come you ain't gonna hit on no drunk guy, huh? What's the matter? Scared?"

Their reactions told me their answer. I waved them off and turned around, making my way back up the slope.

"Bunch of pussies is what ya'll are. Pussies! Fuckin' cowards! I knew I was wasting my time on you fools."

That was when I heard the rush of someone approaching rather quickly. I spun around to find one of the idiots rushing me with fists raised, making to clock me upside the face. I didn't have time to react proper, so I let my body guide me, did what came naturally.

I went limp and stumbled drunkenly into his chest, shoulder first.

He staggered back, obviously surprised.

Which is why he didn't expect me to swivel on the point of my right foot, backhand his face, come down on my left foot and drive a fist into his gut.

All while I appeared piss drunk, of course. No one expected drunken boxing, ever.

He doubled over and fell to his knees, coughing and retching. I staggered backwards, as I was taught to, and raised my hands, thumb and index finger making a C shape like I was holding a cup. Basic drunken boxing stance. If you didn't know this, then you'd be better off watching that one movie by Jackie Chan before coming back here. The rest of the gang stood their ground, watching me. I knew they wanted me in there, to outnumber me and put me down. Wasn't gonna happen.

The idiot chose that moment to try and stand up to sock me again, so what I did was I blocked his swing with my left arm and chopped his neck with my right. Then I leaped in the air and drop kicked the bastard square in the chest. Sent him tumbling head over heels down the hill. Crashed into the other bozos like a bowling ball.

And now I had the opportunity to strike.

I ran down the hill, right behind our rolling man, and leaped into the fray. The group of men scattered as their friend collided with them and I hopped over him and shoved my shoulder into the next guy. Pushed him back real good. He stumbled over his own two feet and fell on his ass, so I ignored him and focused instead on his friends. One guy charged right over the clumsy idiot and swung a fist at my face. Drunk and wobbly, I let my feet carry me backward and out of his reach, then I threw myself forward, landing bodily on his chest as my feet careened into his. I threw my hands up and slapped him upside the cheeks several times, then I cupped my hands and struck him over the ears. I pushed him away as someone grabbed me and got an arm around my neck. I felt his thick bicep crushing my windpipe as the fella dragged me backward in a chokehold. Black spots dotted my vision, and I knew I had to do something real smart real fast.

So I went drunk mode again and sagged backward, letting myself go completely limp in his grip. I felt his arm loosen itself from around my neck in surprise, could even hear the guy yelp as his victim suddenly turned into a ragdoll. That moment was all I needed. I stiffened my body, planted my feet on the floor and reached backward to grab the idiot by the head. Then I used all my strength and hauled him up and over my back and onto the floor, my shoulder acting as leverage while he flew clean over me and onto the dirt. I straightened up and heard movement behind me, so I twisted on my right foot and drove my fist into the gut of the goon that was coming up behind me. As he doubled over, my other foot shot up as I straightened, smacking him upside the head. I followed up with a hop, kicking with my right while landing on my left, my ankle striking the soft bit between his neck and shoulder, then finished him off with a leap and a spin, bringing my left round to kick him in the cheek. He dropped like a stone. That left me with, what, another seven, eight guys?

Easy peasy.

As the group slowly formed a circle around me, I straightened myself and tried to stand straight, but I could feel the whiskey in my system messing with my sense of balance and my brain. I couldn't even find my feet, so I settled on wobbling drunkenly in place instead, fists up and ready. Two of the goons ahead of me, sensing that I was apparently weak from the booze, decided to charge me at once, a fist flying to my face and a foot shooting at my stomach. I felt myself act in reflex, my hand shooting out to block and divert the punch while my leg raised to block the kick. As my foot went back down I raised my right arm and brought it down in a chop on the neck of the guy on my left, then quickly diverted the hand, with fist now clenched, to the temple of the guy on my right. They took the hits rather well, but I wasn't done yet. I recovered quickly and drew in both hands, then shot open palm strikes to their chests, making them stumble a step backward. I clenched my fists and drove them into their stomachs, and as they doubled over, I pulled my fists in towards my chest and angled my elbows outward in one motion, making them crack their chins on them. As they stumbled back one more step I opened my hands and stepped forward to deliver one more palm strike to their faces. As they reeled, I took a quick step backward and then leaped forward, diving between the two of them and twisting round so I could see them. I drew my feet up to my chest as I passed them, then shot both out in two kicks that nailed their backs and drove them to the floor.

I hit the dirt and quickly flipped myself upright as more idiots charged at me. One of them had brass knuckles on, I realised as his fist flew into my cheek. I reeled backward and tasted blood and felt a tooth rattle about in my mouth, but I had no time to recover as the guy stepped in and threw another punch. I felt my chest give way under his fist and my breath left me. A third punch to my gut left me gasping for air in a heap on the floor, trying to breath as I simultaneously gagged and hurled all the whiskey, plus the burrito I'd had for dinner, all out onto the dirt. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and spat out the tooth and what remained of my meal, staggering back onto my feet as the rest of the motley crew stared at me, wry smiles on their faces. They had the upper hand and they knew it.

Oh how wrong they were.

I shook off the hit and readied myself again. Mr Knuckles took a stance that I recognised was similar to a boxing stance or an MMA one, though I didn't know much about those things. I took a step and hopped in the air, feinting an uppercut. He stepped backward, arms up over his face in a block, but what he didn't expect was my foot going straight into his crotch. I twisted around and leapt into the air, raising and then throwing down my left onto the back of his head. He fell straight down and didn't get up. That left a few more goons to take care of. The other guys I'd barely hurt were up too, and one of them had a length of iron pipe in his hands. A makeshift staff, as it were.

Great, this felt like the dojo all over again. At least I had an advantage: I had training.

One of the dudes took my short pause to rush me. He tackled me down onto the dirt and pummeled my face and chest, raining down blows with his fists, but I blocked most of them, arms raised up over my head. He was distracted with his attempt to bash my face in, so he barely noticed when I raised my legs and feet, folding myself into half in the process. I managed to catch his fists as they flew at my face, and I raised his arms and got my heels under his armpits. In one motion, I let go and pushed his thighs down against my stomach while I brought my legs back down to unfold myself, taking him with me as I straightened out my body. With his shoulders and arms caught behind my legs, he folded right backward and screamed as bones cracked in his spine, and I made things worse by arching my back and thrusting my hips and knees upward, folding him the other way around right good. I felt him go limp against legs and I threw him off and got to my feet. He was writhing on the floor, and I knew he was also trying to move legs that most likely wouldn't move again.

Couple more idiots left.

Two more charged me. I ducked their punches and swiveled on my left foot, bringing my arms to catch the punching arm of the guy on my left. I grabbed his wrist with one arm, placed the other on his shoulder, and twisted. He yelled and tried to struggle, but I twisted his arm further and pushed him down onto his knees. His buddy tried to push me off but I shot my heel onto his toes, then slammed my heel down onto his other foot. As he hopped about in agony I kicked his shin and he pretty much fell over and kissed the dirt. I returned my focus to the guy I had in an armlock. I raised my right foot up and brought it down onto his shoulder, driving him right down into the dirt as I pulled back with my hand, forcibly wrenching his arm right out of its socket. He screamed real loud at that. Then I shifted focus to the other guy, who was back up and making to hurt me. He grabbed onto my shoulders and spun me around to face him, so I raised my hands up within his grip and broke his hold on my jacket. I cupped my hands and slapped them on his ears again, then shoved him away. As he stumbled, I grabbed onto one of his flailing arms, then took a step back and pulled him towards me and onto my raised knee that I drove into his gut.

Two more down, four more to go. These idiots didn't know when to quit.

The guy with the staff charged me next. Now we had a dangerous man here cause he came in whirling and twirling that metal pole like a blender and I had to really retreat from that. Too dangerous, I would've broken an arm or a leg trying to block that. The one thing he didn't have, though, was technique. He took a few steps forward and swung the pole at me, a nice, wide swing that I ducked under easily. I shot back up as he was bringing the staff up over his head. He brought it down and it crashed into the dirt, raising a big cloud of dust as I hopped to the side to avoid the strike. I quickly stamped my foot down on it to prevent him from bringing it back up and used my other foot to stomp on his hands. He yelled in pain and released the pole, which was when my foot shot up and smacked him in the chin, pushing him away from it as I regained my meagre balance. I rolled the staff under my foot, got it onto my toes, then flipped it up into my waiting hand. I gripped it tight, brought it up over my head with both hands and slammed it down hard on the guy on the floor. He cringed and struggled, I felt bone break under the pole, and then he stopped moving. Must've knocked him out.

Three more.

The remaining guys were hesitant to come closer, now that I had a weapon. I could feel the liquor in my system, hear my heart in my ears. The floor swayed underneath me, but I kept my balance the best I could. With all my training, I couldn't let my master down now could I? I took one step forward and the other dudes split, tearing off down the river bank in their panic to get away, all except one guy. He was hiding behind his friends when they bailed, and that left him alone, with only a tiny knife in his hand for company. I could see him trembling as I half walked, half stumbled towards him. I took the knife from him, pinched the blade between my fingers and kept it. It was only a switchblade, after all. I stuffed the thing in my pocket and patted the guy on the shoulder.

"Hey man, you're a good guy. Don't be like the rest of these chumps, okay? Go home, rethink your life, maybe go get a job and do something special with yourself."

Sadly due to me being drunk off my rocker, I think my words came out something like a cross between a mash of vowels and a burp. He got the point though, and he ran off. I hiccuped and turned, staring at the carnage behind me. Not bad for a drunk guy. I dropped the metal pole and slowly made my way back up the hill, picking up my empty bottle as I made my way home.

Not nice to litter.

---

I woke up roughly a day later. The fatigue and alcohol left me with a throbbing headache and aches all over my body. My hands and knuckles were chapped and torn, my feet were sore and I thought I'd pulled something in my back, but here I was, sober, sore and sick. The first thing I saw when I rose from bed was my sister sitting by me, a worried look on her face. She noticed me rising and the worry turned to anger and she slapped me a good one on my chest.

"Why, Dylan?"

"Huh?"

I was still groggy so I couldn't see straight when she shoved a newspaper in my face. The headlines told a story most grim and foul, and though the culprit hadn't been caught, it was again blamed on the ongoing gang war. I skimmed the article, then saw the pictures that dominated the front page. Several young men were being loaded into ambulances, most were alright, bruised and dirty but alright, but a few were a little more serious. One had his arm in a sling, two had a weird brace on their bodies, it kept them straight I think. I gave her a sheepish smile as she frowned at me, hands on her hips.

"Oops?"

"You started it, idiot, now these dumb bums are gonna think the other guys did it when they didn't, and the whole thing's gonna get worse!"

"Well they started it by attacking Daniel! If they'd let him be I would've done nothing, but they deserved retribution. Master would've said the same thing."

She pouted and sighed, the anger disappearing from her face as worry clouded her brow again. She smoothed a hand through my messy hair as I laid back in bed, wincing from my headache.

"But what if you'd been injured, or worse, killed? Then Daniel would wake up and find his best friend down for the count and how do you think he's going to take that?"

I sighed. She was right. What I'd did was reckless, but damn if it didn't feel good to get revenge. That reminded me. I sat up a little, leaned on my elbow.

"How is he?"

She nodded gently.

"He's alright. Actually, he's been off the sleep meds they gave him for the surgery. I think if you visit him, he should be awake. I was...actually about to leave for the hospital when you woke up. Want to come with?"

My body said no but my mind said yes. Grudgingly my aching muscles conceded, and in a few minutes I was dressed, shaved and ready to see my best friend.

---

The hospital always smelled the same, yet when I entered his room, I took in the fragrance of lavender and fresh-smelling soap. Then I saw him in bed, sitting up with an empty food tray on the table in front of him. He was staring listlessly out the window, and I couldn't imagine what he was thinking. He heard the door close and he turned and smiled knowingly as he saw me and my sister. Alex sat down next to him and gave him a gentle hug while I grabbed a chair from across the room to sit nearby. After a moment of silence he looked at me and spoke.

"So, the papers this morning, I'm guessing that was you?"

I shrugged and smiled.

"Maybe. Yeah sure, it was me."

He shook his head and smiled.

"Only you, only Dylan Hayes could stand against a bunch of gangbangers and live to tell the tale."

We chuckled while Alex pouted. Clearly she didn't see it like we did.

"He could've been killed!"

"Yeah but I didn't, and here I am."

"He's right, Alex. But honestly, if I weren't cooped up in here I'd have cuffed you for that."

I was shocked.

"Why?"

"Obstruction of justice."

I cocked a brow at him.

"You didn't let me join in."

For a moment all was silent, then I burst out laughing and so did he. God damn if this weren't the Daniel I knew. As we settled down again, his face grew serious.

"Once I get out of here I'm contacting my liason in the Boston PD, check on the status of our operation. If we're in the clear, I'm gonna give her the go ahead to commence."

"An operation? What sorta op, Dan?"

I was curious. They were planning something? He nodded in the affirmative.

"Yup. We're running a crackdown on the Saints and the Men at the same time, tackle their infrastructure, maybe cause a collapse of leadership. Then we go after their leaders. Once they're isolated with no hope of getting out in one piece, we're hoping they surrender, but some of us are thinking otherwise."

He sighed and ran a hand through his messy brown hair.

"This whole thing's a mess. I have yet to receive word from her about the damage you caused, sad to say. As much as I'd have loved to be in your place, doing that was reckless, Dylan, and it might have messed up our plans a little."

I must've had panic in my eyes, cause immediately after he piped up again.

"They don't know it's you, by the way, all assumptions are that the Men sent a group to combat the Saints down at the riverbank and the latter lost. Tensions are high both in the city and in the office and things are gonna get pretty heated soon. Better not do that sorta stunt again, otherwise this cold war's gonna go hot."

I nodded and the room went quiet, save for the soft beeping of a machine and the air conditioning whirring above us. Alex took a little thermos out from her bag and gave it to him.

"I made clam chowder. For you."

He took the thermos and smiled.

"Dylan told you my favorites? How nice of him."

Daniel always liked clam chowder. It was his favorite during high school. I smiled as I watched him tuck in. Here sat a man who used to be a boy, lost and lonely, who sat in the corner of the cafeteria eating his lunch by himself, until I made friends with him out of pity. Now here he was, still enjoying childhood favorites while being a grown man, in the FBI, with a well paying career ahead of him, and here I was, dead end dojo, dead end job, but I had my sister and a steady job, so I had that going for me, I guess. But now I had some part to play in this little drama of his, so I guess I had to cooperate.

Suddenly the door burst open and this Spanish chick walked into the room. I recognised her as the detective that interviewed me the other day. Daniel sat up.

"Rodriguez? What's the rush?"

Instead of talking, she grabbed a TV remote from the table and switched on the set in the corner of the room. It showed a news scene, one apparently happening right now. From outside there was a muted thump, and on screen we saw its cause: a car exploding. The reporter on site was trying to talk over the sound of the chaos behind her, but the angry mobs clashing with each other drowned out most of her words, but things became clearer the more pieces of her report we caught. The gang conflicts had escalated. An all out war was raging. The death toll so far was five men, and it was expected to keep climbing. Police and riot control units were on site but were helpless to stop the violence. The mayor of Boston had called for a total lockdown of the downtown district. There were fires everywhere, looting and crime were rampant, but above all gangbangers roamed the streets in search of blood. The reporter urged all members of the public to stay indoors and avoid contact with anyone that might look like a gang member, for fear of the violence spreading out of the lockdown zone.

I paled, and so did everyone else in the room.

"This is a live feed from downtown. The war's gone hot. We have to act now."

"Shit. Yeah, yeah, I'm guessing we already have the go ahead. Activate the teams, tell them to use the chaos as cover for the operation. Find the targets and eliminate them."

She stared at him, disbelief clearly written on her face.

"I thought we were on a strictly capture order?"

Daniel gave her a look, one I recognised as the 'you-gotta-be-shitting-me' face.

"Does it look like anyone will surrender now, Rodriguez? This is full on violence with intent to hurt and kill. If we don't move in now with that same intent, they won't spare our officers and men. If they won't spare us, then we sure as hell won't spare them. Get the teams, arm them with lethal ammo, tell them that all bets are off, it's either us or them that's gonna die today."

He had that look in his eyes now, one of a hunter closing in on its target. Rodriguez, lips pressed together tightly, nodded and turned to leave. Daniel stopped her.

"Oh, one more thing."

She turned, gave him a glance.

"Take care of my friends. If they get harmed in any way, I'll make sure that someone pays, and I hope to God it isn't you."