A/N: This is raw, unbetaed and totally off the top of my head. Enjoy, ridicule or laugh yourself sick ... whichever cherries your sundae.

With This Ring

Dallas Winston leaned against the rough wall of the recessed doorway he was hiding in and took a long draw from the cigarette in his right hand as he stared across the empty street at the sparkling glass of the department store's display window, icy blue eyes fixed on the reflection of his side of the street that mirrored back at him in the glow of a streetlight near the corner. He hated the waiting that made up such a large part of getting what he wanted but he had learned over the last few years to be more patient and not let the irritation of staying still get to him … much.

Mistakes and higher risks came from letting himself sink into a state of boredom and he couldn't afford either this far into the game he was playing. A mental image of the silver class ring ring flashed into his mind and a faint smirk tilted his lips up as he remembered how the sapphire set into the class ring had caught the light inside the soda shop and seemed to beckon to him … C'mon, Dally. Take me from this pompous fool. Let me be yours since he obviously doesn't appreciate my beauty like you do.

Just the way the Soc's voice had carried over the crowd in the shop had irritated Dallas and furthered his pursuit to make that ring his. Everything about the high school senior and his three buddies had raised the blond's hackles; their confidence and the way they commandeered the best booth and the way they had seemed to hold court with all the other kids in the place. Taking the ring from the dingbat would sooth his own ego and gain him something pretty to boot.

Every time he was focused and prepared for this part, a little voice in his head kept popping up with its version of chiding his choices and telling him that what he was doing was wrong but he ignored it, carrying on with his plans despite the whispered warnings from the part of his conscience he hadn't managed to squash over the years of living on the streets. He didn't think it was very funny that the voice seemed to take on the same tone and inflection as Darrel Curtis' voice at times. After all, Jiminy Cricket sounded a lot like Mickey Mouse to him so why couldn't his conscience sound like the eldest Curtis brother? At least it's not Two-Bit's voice. I couldn't take that shit. It would be too much like having him up my ass all the time.

Right and wrong didn't matter when it came to the game and neither did emotions, remorse or regret. All that mattered was the moment of impact, the rewards to be reaped and living from one day to the next without being shot, stabbed or beaten to death. Survival … that was the name of the game he played and the game he was determined to win.

The sound of laughter and drunken voices pulled Dallas from his debating with the annoying voice of Darrel Curtis over morals and he watched the door of the low key tavern down the street pop open, figures appearing slowly in the reflection of the display window as four well-dressed boys stumbled out onto the sidewalk and hesitated with their arms around each other for support. Drunk Socs … my favorite.

Dallas peered around the edge of the bricks at the four older boys and rolled his eyes when they appeared to be lingering in an off the wall discussion about some stupid football game they had participated in the night before. He didn't give a flying fuck about sports. The only sport he considered worthy of his involvement involved his cock in a willing chick and that was as far as he went toward sweating unless he was running from the cops. Don't have to break much of a sweat with them, though. Not many of them bother to chase me anymore. Not since I whacked O'Neil across the face with that tree limb in the graveyard that night.

The laughter dropped down to just murmurs and he was relieved to see the four boys apparently preparing to go their separate ways. He had recognized the owner of the covetous ring immediately once he'd pried his gaze from the glittering sapphire and he knew which route the rich fuck would take home, not caring that the asshole was a good half a foot taller than him and forty pounds heavier. It was all in how you used it and everybody knew the Socs couldn't fight worth shit no matter what their size. And drunk off his ass evens the odds a little more in my favor.

The red streak running down the sleeve of the brown haired boy's jacket stood out and gave his prey the otherworldly look of a ghost moving across people frozen in time as the drunken boy made his way past the mannequins on display in their winter clothing, his reflection superimposed over the interior display of the departments store display. Bingo … show time.

Flipping his cigarette into the recess behind him, Dallas moved up to the edge of the doorway and silently counted footsteps on the sidewalk, his hands clenching and relaxing at his sides as he prepared himself for what was to come. He knew David Presnell was making his way back to his fancy house on the fancy street with the fancy trees lining it and he was determined that the high school senior wasn't going to make it home with his class ring tonight.

Robin Hood strikes again. Take from the rich and give to the poor ... namely me. He chuckled a little to himself as the little voice inside his head started back up again when the footsteps reached his hiding place but he ordered it to shut the fuck up and tensed as he waited for the right moment to grab the slightly bigger boy as he passed by. He caught a glimpse of the ugly jacket the brown haired boy was wearing and stepped out of the doorway behind the figure, hooking one arm around the boy's throat and dragging him backward into the doorway before he could make a sound.

"Just keep your fucking mouth shut and don't fight me, you rich shitass," he growled into David's ear as he felt him start to struggle, shoving him against the front door of the tobacco shop and pinning him there with his knees braced against the backs of the bigger boy's thighs. "I don't wanna hurt you but I will if you start getting hinky on me."

The body pressed between him and the door stopped moving but remained tense as Dallas moved his arm from around the boy's throat and pressed it between his shoulder blades firmly, reaching his other hand back to pull his knife from his back pocket. He could smell the whiskey and beer emanating off the older boy in sickening waves but resisted the urge to gag. It wasn't like he didn't drink himself. He just didn't know how strong the shit smelled at this close proximity. Maybe that's just his cologne. Steve said these rich shits were afraid to smell like human beings and doused themselves in stinky shit.

David started a little when he clicked the blade open and pressed the tip against his ribs through the ugly fabric of the jacket but he didn't try anything, much to Dallas's relief. "W-whash you want? Dunt have no cash on me …"

"I don't want your fucking money," Dallas growled as he let the tip of the blade dig into the boy's side a little and smirked when a low whimper came from him. Ain't so damn tough without their friends to back them up, are they? "Get that fucking ring off your goddamn finger … now."

"But thash my …"

Dallas dug the point of the blade in a little deeper. "I don't give a flying fuck. Give it here cause it ain't yours no more."

Satisfaction shot through him when the drunken boy slid his hands up the brick wall until they met up over his head and slowly twisted the class ring off his right ring finger, fumbling with it a moment before holding it over his shoulder between his thumb and forefinger. "Ish jus a stupid ring. Dunt know wha you …"

"I don't remember asking for you to fucking analyze me, asshole," Dallas hissed as he snatched the prize from the boy's fingers and bounced it on his palm, smirking again as the sapphire glimmered dully in the faint light coming from the street. "Shut the fuck up or I'll let more air into your lungs than you want."

Clicking his knife shut, Dallas stepped back from the boy as he shoved the blade back into his pocket and slipped the ring onto his own finger, cursing loudly when it hung loose. He moved it to his middle finger and clenched his hand into a tight fist, liking the feel of the band as it pressed against his skin. Time to take care of this fuck and be on my merry way.

He tilted his fist toward the light a little more and admired the way it bounced off the stone set into the silver ring, ignoring the raised letters that spelled out his prey's name on one side. Almost the same color as Sylvia's eyes when she's … At that moment, he knew exactly what he was going to do with his new toy. Sylvia had been riding his ass lately about how her friends all had tokens of affection from their boyfriends and how if they were going to go steady, he had to pony up with something worthy of her regard.

This will do the trick … and maybe she will do some tricks for me when I give it to her.

Turning his attention back to the inebriated boy now facing him and leaning heavily against the wall, Dallas drew his clenched fist back and slammed it into the boy's jaw as hard as he could, watching with a smirk of triumph as David slumped to the concrete of the doorway like he'd been poleaxed. "And that concludes our business for tonight."

Digging a cigarette out of his leather jacket, he stuck it between his lips and turned away while producing a book of matches from the other pocket. The fallen enemy was forgotten as he swaggered out of the recessed doorway and headed down the street, his mind now on finding Sylvia and getting proper gratitude for his gift to her.

She better do some amazing tricks for this …

Comments are welcome.