Strength is Restrained

By: Rhuben

Summary-Colt has found a self destructive way to release his pent up anger and his brothers are always there to help him.

A low grunt escaped from Colt Douglas's mouth seconds before the ground came rushing up to meet him. He threw his arms out to catch himself and tucked his head into a roll, feeling the gritty gravel on his bare back before he was on his feet again.

He used his arm to wipe the blood and sweat from the corner of his lip, bouncing on his toes before adjusting the ripping tape that wrapped around his knuckles and palms. The goon in front of him spat onto the ground, flared his nostrils, and stared Colt down with a harsh glare.

"Come on! Is that all you've got?" he challenged.

Colt watched a glob of his spit dangle from his bottom lip before dropping down onto the ground with a plop. He slowly breathed in and out of his nose, feeling his ribs ache with each expansion of his chest. He rolled his shoulders, the muscles in his face twitching threatening to show just how much pain he was in. He had managed to land a fair few square punches and kicks on his opponent, sprouting patches of bruises on their skin; a testament to how well he could fight.

"Yeah, is that all you've got?"

"Come on! Fight!"

"Take him down, Tank!"

"You've got this, Mustang!"

"Stop staring at each other and get to fighting!"

Fine by me, Colt thought to himself. The jeers from the crowd only enhanced Colt's urge to knock the guy out. He sniffed once, curled his lips up into a smirk, and sank into his fighting stance. With a flick of his head—partially to get his long hair out of his face—he beckoned Tank forward.

Tank raced towards him with heavy steps. Colt backed up quickly, eyes widening just slightly. He knew this goon wasn't going to be able to slow down, or changing direction, any time soon; his weight and speed were too much for that. Colt quickly glanced to his right before running towards a pile of trashcans, a few some of the spectators were sitting on.

He stepped up onto an empty one with a loud clang, planted his right foot onto the brick wall, and pushed off, sending himself towards the ground, directly behind Tank. With a loud cry, he struck his Doc Marten clad foot straight into Tank's spine. Tank dropped heavily to the ground, his chest making a loud smack as he hit the ground, inches away from the brick wall ending the alley. Jean clad legs hung down from the top where other fight enthusiasts watched, knocking back sodas from glass bottles.

"Had enough, yet?" Colt taunted, clapping his hands together before crossing his arms tightly over his sweat slicked chest. He lifted his thumb to scratch at his eyebrow. He rolled his head on his neck and rotated his arms.

"Not yet, twerp," Tank growled through clenched teeth, getting to his feet. His muscles bulged as he flexed his muscles, storming towards him. Colt let out a loud scream of pain when Tank shout out his hand and wrapped his meaty fingers around the gold hoop in his earlobe, pulling on it.

That was the beauty of street fighting; anything goes. Colt could easily use that to his advantage, as a ninja he used everything around him to fight, but that was a low blow. Gritting his teeth, Colt grabbed onto Tank's big wrist, trying to pry his hand off of his ear. A blow landed on the side of his head and stars burst in front of his eyes.

Colt shook his head, trying to clear his vision, and get rid of the throbbing, but that only made it worse. Sucking in a deep breath of air Colt lifted his feet and placed them on Tank's thighs. He walked up the teenager's bulky frame before flinging himself backwards, striking the underside of Tank's chin with the toe of his shoe, flipping himself back over onto his feet. White hot pain shot deep into his skull as he felt his earring ripped out of his ear.

"God…damn it!" Colt groaned, nearly dropping to his knees, grasping his ear.

"Colt!"

Blinking through tears of pain, Colt lifted his head, groaning inwardly when he heard his brother's familiar scolding tone. Not now, Rocky. He squeezed his eyes shut before opening them, glancing down at the blood in his hands.

"Colt, get up!"

Tum-Tum.

Colt scanned the crowd, his eyes darting from face to face until he spotted the stony face of his older brother, and the look of awe and worry of his baby brother. Despite all the cheering, he could clearly pick out his brothers' voices.

"Colt, stop," Rocky said, taking a step forward, pushing his way through the outer ring of the circle.

"Who's Colt?" someone asked with a snort. "His name's Mustang."

Rocky silently lifted an eyebrow at some of the boys that tried to keep him back from the fight before forcing his way over to his brother. Rocky and Tum-Tum grasped Colt's arms, lifting him to his feet. "I thought you said you were done with this fighting."

"Rocky, leave!" Colt said, trying to pull his sore arms from his brothers' grip. But, they held on tight. "Get off."

"No, Colt," Rocky said, tightening his grip on Colt's arm. "You said you were done."

"It's just one more fight, Rock, get a grip," Colt snapped. "Actually…loosen your grip. Seriously."

"Come on, Colt, let's go home," Tum-Tum said in a slightly pleading voice.

Colt blinked in surprise, looking over at him. He hadn't heard that tone come from his brother in a few years. He had grown up, gaining more muscle mass and was now rivaling Colt in height. If he wanted, he could manhandle Colt all the way back home but in that moment…he looked like a scared kid. Both of them looked scared.

"I can win this," Colt said, his voice cracking slightly. "It's just one fight."

"Colt, you're a walking-talking concussion," Rocky said through clenched teeth. "There's no way I'm going to let you finish this fight." He paused for a moment, his tongue darting out between his lips. "Don't be overconfident."

"Yeah, don't be overconfident," Tum-Tum repeated in his usual teasing fashion. "You know what grandpa said, strength is restrained."

Which is why you're holding me back, right? Colt thought, his eyebrows twitching.

"What's this?" Tank laughed behind Colt's back. "The little pony needs back up? You don't think you can take on Tank all your own, wussy?"

"I'm not a wuss!" Colt snapped, turning back towards, practically swinging Rocky and Tum-Tum around with him. "Shut up, damn it!" Tank's eyes were alight with glee and determination.

Colt was sure Tank would do anything to rip him limb from limb. But, he wasn't called Colt for nothing. In most of his fights, people barely landed a finger on him before they were tapping out. He knew he could give Tank a run for his money, what money people had on the fight, anyway.

"You don't have to do this, Colt," Rocky said quietly. "If anything goes wrong…." He trailed off, swallowing thickly.

"Just come home with us," Tum-Tum said, just as quiet. "Please. This is stupid." Colt's chest heaved as he stared Tank down. Tank spat onto the ground, swinging his hands backwards and forwards, clapping his hands together as they met in front of him.

"You're a lot stronger if you just walk away from this," Rocky added. Colt could feel his brothers' grips loosening on him. "Come on, little brother." Colt felt his nostrils flare at the name, but let out a breath of air through his nose, briefly shaking his head from side to side. "We won't have to tell dad or anything. It'll just be between us, ok?"

"Alright," he said to them. "Let's go home."

"Phew." Tum-Tum let out a breath of air before gently patting his brother on the back. "Let's go, Colt." He put his arm around his brother and started to guide him out of the alleyway with Rocky flanking his other side.

"What's this?" Tank shouted after them. "You're just going to walk away?"

"Yeah, Mustang, what's going on?"

"I never thought the great Mustang would be one to walk away from a fight"

Boos and jeers hit the air, slamming into the back of Colt's head. He felt his muscles tense at the taunts. Rocky glanced over at Colt out of the corner of his eye and Tum-Tum tightened his grip on Colt, but he wasn't slowing down.

"Come on, Mustang. Get back in there and fight."

"His name's not Mustang," Tum-Tum shouted over his shoulder, "it's Colt."

"No," Colt said with a shake of his head. He looped his arm around Tum-Tum's shoulder. "It's Jeffrey."

"I'm proud of you, little brother," Rocky said, holding his fist up to his brother. Colt smiled, bumping Rocky's fist with his own.

A/N: I couldn't think of a better fighting name than "Mustang" for Colt. This is actually part of an overall idea I had and decided to write a quick one-shot about it. I'm not too fond of how I ended it, though.

For those of you waiting for the Rocky and Tum-Tum one-shots, I'll have those up soon.

Hope you enjoyed it.