AN: I do not own West Side Story. Read at the risk of your Feels. Major character death, and other fun mature content. Based off the book, not the play\movie (The movie is better.) The story is changed a bit towards the end since the last chapters are taken mostly from the book.

"I understand why we hate the PRs, but it seems like Riff has a personal vendetta against Bernardo in particular." Baby-John said, walking with Action the dirty back alleyways of Manhattan. Action looked at the gangs not-so baby brother incredulously, "You're joking, right?" Baby-john just looked confused. "Nobody told ya?" Action turned to face the you younger, stopping their pace completely. BJ shook his head, the fifteen-year-old more than intimidated by his elder.

Action ran a hand through his slicked back do, mussing it up. "Look kid, if I tell ya, you gotta keep it to yourself. Savvy? If Riff finds out I told ya he'll have my head."

"I can keep my mouth shut, I'm not a child." Baby-John insisted, eager to hear some dirt on his boss.

"Whatever you hear you can't treat the Boss differently, he's a swell guy he just made some funky choices a while ago." Action clarified. "I promise! Just please tell me!" Baby John whined. Sounding an awful lot like a child for all he claimed to be a man. There was a stretch of awkward silence before action sighed.

"It started last year, around December…"

Past

Bernardo stepped off the plane, inhaling deeply, smelling the freedom that came with America. He smiles to everyone he see's, simply high on life. He struts, practically skipping down the gross Manhattan streets towards the run-down tenement his parents had taken up residence in.

"Hey look boys! We found ourselves a fagot!"

Bernardo skid to a stop, grin melting off his face like butter. He hadn't thought about how he'd look to passerby's in his euphoric state. "Maricon? No no, good sirs, I am certain you are mistaken." He smirks trying to play it cool, his accent is heavy and he fears they don't understand him. There were about four larger men armed with chains and bats, he wouldn't last long in a fight.

The one who spoke before -obviously, the leader of the group- spoke again, his malicious grin promising pain, "Is that so? Lookie here boys, sounds like this spic is fresh off the boat." He hoots in laughter, advancing upon the poor man. Reverting to his native tongue in his panic Bernardo begins to cuss in a constant stream of Spanish, running into an alley, only to discover a dead end. Bernardo backs to a wall, watching the men cackling evilly as the chains begin to swing.

"I promise it wont hurt… much. Get him boys!"

The heathens ran forwards getting punch after punch in on Bernardo. But then there was another noise. A clicking noise. Someone was snapping

"Look at that Riff, some emerald boys wandered on to our turf. Can you believe the nerve of some gangs?"

The punches stopped. The four large men whirled around, eye's wide with fear. The leader, once again spoke first. "Oh man, Tony, this is your turf? Gosh, I'll just get my men and be getting outa the way…" he turned to leave when a tall blond guy with blue eyes grabbed his shoulder.

"Eh Tony, this shmuck is trying to leave, he hasn't even had a dose of the famed, Jet hospitality."

The other speaker, Tony, laughed at his companion's words, moving in on the frantic man who squirmed in the arms of the blond. His gang had abandoned him. "You know what Riff? I think we should let him go. -he watched with a sick satisfaction as the punk Emerald sighed in relief- I Always loved a good chase." Riff cackled and let go of the man, who then promptly took off.

"Get 'im boys, I'll meet ya there and he better be conscious when I do!" Tony yelled to his gang, then to riff who was leaving after the Emerald, "You stay and give the spic over there a good American welcome, I'd trust no-one else with a job so important!" Tony smiled and left to follow his boys. Riff smiled and turned, corkscrewing his fist, to Bernardo, who was half conscious leaning against a dumpster… only to stop, a look of pity and confusion on his face.

Bernardo lifted his fists in a weak attempt to defend himself against the onslaught he'd be facing as Riff began to move towards him again. "Mantente alejado de mí, maldito!" he yelled lethargically, words slurring as he tried not to choke on the blood oozing from his obviously broken nose. He punched weakly at Riff as the man knelt beside him.

"Cool your Jets spic. I'm not going to hurt'cha." Riff bit, though his words seemed venomless. He was currently leaning over the dazed Puerto Rican, dabbing at the blood oozing down his front with a semi clean grease rag from his jacket. "You aint gonna make it to your place alone. Where do ya live?"

"Why should I tell you, Pandillero" Bernardo snapped weakly. Riff chuckled, flicking Bernardo's broken nose, "you're in no shape to be lippin' me off spic. Tell me where you live so I can get you home before my brothers come back."

Bernardo eyed Riff with weary distrust. His parents had spoken of the jets in their letters, and this man had already admitted to being in the gang. But what could he do? he had no choice and he knew it, so Bernardo gave Riff the direction and prayed for the best, that he was not just leading the Jets to his family, and momentarily he was thankful that Maria was still safe back in Puerto Rico.

Present

Baby-John looked at Action in confusion. "Why didn't Riff clobber him? He was weak, im sure Riff could have finished him off and save us a ton of trouble!"

Action only smirked knowingly, said "Well yeah he could have, but this is where things get sticky." And laughed at his own pun.

AN:No hate please I have enough self hate to cover for you guys. Hope you like it. Reviews are what I live for...