AN: Thanks so much again to those of you who have read/reviewed/checked out/followed or glanced over this story so far, it's amazing to think that you're all still enjoying the story. Again a special thank you goes out to ILoveXmas, Blindmoose and Ltlconf for all of your support and advice - especially when I wasn't sure exactly how this chapter would turn out, your encouragement and conversation has kept me going :)

Once again I have to apologise for the delay in the posting of this chapter, there was so much that I wanted to do with it that I had no idea how to begin. I've tried to keep the flow of the story intact and allow the characters to drive the 'action'. I've also used a 'flashback' (which I've written in Italics to keep it separate and maintain the integrity of the chapter) for the first time, I tried writing The Count's testimony without the flashback but it didn't work as well as I'd assumed - the dialogue seemed to detract from the tension I was hoping to create as a result I decided to go with the flashback. It's an experiment so we'll see how it works...

I have no experience of the American court system and as such have done my best to research how everything operates. I hope that you can forgive any slip ups or obvious errors and suspend your disbelief enough to enjoy the chapter. I'm also not a member of a gang so have done a bit of research on this aspect as well to try and get a feel for the reality, if I miss the mark on this then hopefully it's not by much and as previously stated I do not condone criminal behaviour in any way - I'm simply using the scenarios here for dramatic purposes. If there's anything that needs changed please let me know and I will certainly do my best to change it. As always mistakes are my own - this chapter is unbeta'd.

After receiving some great reviews for this chapter I have to thank Ltlconf for pointing out that for some inexplicable reason I've completely missed the 'swearing in' aspect of the trial! I'm not sure how I managed to do that but thanks for pointing it out! My guess is I've watched too much Judge Judy recently...I've now amended a couple of paragraphs to incorporate what should have been in there from the beginning!

Thanks for reading,

Jaxx

...

Malcolm:

'To show an unfelt sorrow is an office

Which the false man does easy'

Malcolm to Donalbain in William Shakespeare's Macbeth written 1604-1606 approx.

...

Chapter 10: Uneasy Counterfeit

It was a pretty even game by the end of the opening statements. Jo found it difficult to tell who the Jury believed but Anderson seemed happy enough with the result – blood had yet to be drawn by either side but both had taken a few hits. There were some in the Jury who seemed to hang on every word DA Bryant said, a woman in the front row had even glared at Jo through a particularly damning section but for the most part the Jury had remained impassive. Jo would have liked to have more of an indication but she knew that impassive was a much better result than openly hostile. She had heard enough about Jury trials from the old timers back home to understand just how dangerous a Jury could be.

It was time for the real game to begin. The next few moves would be crucial in winning the sympathy of the Jury and both sides knew it. If you closed your eyes for a moment you could almost see a chess board, with all of its pieces poised and ready. The first witness for the Prosecution was no surprise to anyone; Brock was the obvious choice since he was the reason for this trial. When Judge Morgan asked Bryant to call their first witness in his husky voice an audible gasp was followed by a tense silence from the public gallery as the doors opened. Everyone in the room, every Juror, every spectator, the Judge, especially Jo turned to see as Worthington made a meal of walking to the witness stand. He leaned heavily on his cane, something that Jo noted he hadn't done with as much conviction the day before when he was threatening Blair, stopping every few steps to take a breath, clutching his side as if in tremendous pain. It seemed to take him forever to get even as far as the Prosecution table where he paused once more looking gratefully at the Jury before finally taking his place in the witness box. God damn it but he was a good actor! Jo could feel the sympathy emanating from every section of the courtroom, especially the Jury. This was going to cause serious problems, he hadn't spoken a word yet they were already putty in his hands. It was the Grand Jury trial all over again, she could feel it in her bones! First blood had been drawn by the Prosecution without Bryant having said a word. As Worthington placed his hand on the Bible and swore to tell the truth, and nothing but the truth before God his eyes met Jo's deep rooted vengeance flashing through them as he made his solemn oath in raspy breaths.

'Mr Worthington, will you be alright to proceed?'

Worthington took a deep drink from a conveniently placed glass of water before nodding his readiness, another grateful look towards the DA and then the Jury.

'I'd like you to recount, in your own words, the events of the afternoon in question.'

Jo idly wondered who else's words the stupid ass may use. 'Recount in your own words' please – he'd probably hired a damned playwright to write his testimony for him! She shifted uncomfortably in her seat but a well-timed, gentle kick under the table from Anderson followed by a warning glance stopped her in her tracks. The look on his face told her now was not the time to look uncomfortable.

'A couple of buddies of mine were getting ready to throw a party at our Frat house that weekend, we headed over to 'Edna's Edible's' to see if the lady in question would cater for us. It was a pretty big deal and since my girl works there…anyway we got there and the boys headed inside but I heard Blair's voice coming from the garage so naturally I headed over there.'

'Did you hear anyone else's voice at that time?'

'Yeah I heard Polniaczek then it suddenly went quiet, the two of 'em are always together so didn't think much of it at the time. It was only when I got to the garage that I realised something was seriously wrong…'

At this point a well-placed hand through dark hair and a deep, ragged, breath indicated his apparent discomfort at what he had seen accompanied by a wince of pain as he placed his hand over his side. It was all an act, Jo could see through it a mile off but she doubted whether Brock's admirers would. His gaze fell for the first time, another indication that he was 'struggling' with his testimony.

'I understand how difficult this is for you Mr Worthington, but you must tell the truth, no matter how uncomfortable it makes you…'

Brock continued to stare at the ground for a moment before he seemingly found his courage and met DA Bryant's expectant look.

'What did you see when you stepped into the garage?'

'Her…Polniaczek…'

'What was she doing?'

'She… had her hands all over my Blair, she was kissing her…' the disgust in his voice couldn't be hidden or mistaken.

'Did it look to you like Miss Warner was a…' Bryant seemed to be struggling with how to put it 'delicately' 'willing participant in this kiss?'

'No! I know my girl and she ain't like that!'

'So what did you do?'

'I hollered and grabbed Polniaczek by the shoulder pulled her off my girl…'

'Did you do anything other than pull her off of Miss Warner?'

'Sir?'

'Other than pulling Miss Polniaczek off of Miss Warner did you use any other physical force?'

'No sir. I wouldn't do that.'

Jo struggled to remain silent. She had known that everything that came out of Worthington's mouth would be a lie, but to hear it made her blood run molten, she clenched her fists in frustration but again a look from Anderson told her this was a bad move and so she reluctantly unclenched them. It was so tough trying to hide her feelings of resentment at this point. Worthington was the one who had started the fight yet here he was painting her not only as the guilty party but as a crazed woman who had forced herself on Blair. An overwhelming urge to stand and shout her innocence from the rooftops began to build within her. Something which Anderson seemed to sense as he placed a hand on her arm and shook his head gently, the guy must have a degree in psychology or something to know exactly what she was thinking like that. If she did something stupid now it would just make Brock seem all the more plausible. He was right though she had to keep her cool no matter how tough it was.

'What was Miss Polniaczek's reaction?'

'She was pi…ahem' an apologetic look towards the Jury for effect '…furious.'

'What did she do?'

'She attacked me, just threw herself at me – knocked me clean off my feet.'

'Did you fight back?'

'Only in so far as I felt able sir.'

'Can you explain what you mean by that?'

'Where I come from we're taught to respect women. You don't raise your hand to one. I only tried to get Polniaczek off of me, I never hit her back.'

'What about Miss Warner?'

'I never touched her sir, she got knocked over when Polniaczek attacked me the first time – as soon as I saw her on the ground I was at her side…but that bitch…sorry…that woman…she attacked me again. She had me in a headlock, that's when I hurt my knee.'

'You're certain you didn't hit either Miss Warner or Miss Polniaczek?'

'I've never been more certain of anything. I got out of there soon as I could, headed straight for the cops, just wish I hadn't left Blair there, leaving her with Polniaczek was a mistake…'

…

Worthington's testimony again painted a damning picture of Jo. He knew just how to play it so that he wasn't overacting, Jo wondered if he had received acting lessons - she certainly wouldn't put it past him in this situation, he held the Jury the entire time and they lapped up his words. Jo couldn't stand seeing the way they seemed to idolise the College football hero. It was as if all common sense had left them. Not only was she apparently a crazed woman who had forced herself on Blair and attacked Worthington in a rage but she had also taken her anger out on Blair once Worthington had left the scene. Her fists were clenched once again as she watched him on the stand continuing the charade that his injuries were giving him real problems with his movement when in fact both Anderson and Jo knew that this wasn't the case – his injuries were bad but he certainly hadn't shown any such trouble with his movement when he had been threatening Blair. Anderson gave Jo a look of reassurance, glanced to her hands, she hadn't even realised she was clenching her fists again, as he moved to cross examine what he hoped would be the most hostile witness he would be facing.

'Mr Worthington, I won't take up too much of your time this morning…I just have a few questions for you…'

Worthington was far from impressed by Anderson and it showed in his face as his façade of charm slipped almost imperceptibly for the briefest of moments, whether it went unnoticed by the Jury Jo wasn't sure but she could tell that the Judge had seen it and so had Bryant who shook his head subtly in warning.

'Had you been drinking the day of the incident?'

'Drinking? No sir…'

'Nothing at all? Not one beer?'

'Not a thing.'

'Are you sure Mr Worthington? You see I have the testimony of a good friend of yours who says that you'd all been drinking at the Chug a Lug bar earlier that same afternoon…celebrating a victory over your rivals…do you remember being at the Chug a Lug?'

'Yes sir, but I wasn't drinking. I had my Harley.'

'I see. I'd say attending a victory celebration, even if it was a charity 'friendly' in the middle of the day, would make you want at least one drink Mr Worthington, especially given the custom at Langley for the 'Man of the Match' to be given his own pitcher…'

'I shared it with the team…'

'Ah so you did have something to drink…'

'I wasn't drunk!'

'No one is saying you were Mr Worthington. I'm simply curious as to why you didn't mention this visit to the Chug a Lug in your earlier testimony…'

'Objection! Mr Anderson is badgering the witness…'

'I'm merely trying to establish omitted facts relating to the witness' state of mind your honor.'

'Overruled, but watch your step Mr Anderson…'

Brock was losing his cool, Jo could sense it. Anderson's line of questioning was something he obviously hadn't expected, she hadn't even known that he had been at the bar that afternoon so she guessed he had assumed Anderson wouldn't either. She hadn't smelled alcohol from him during the fight, he probably hadn't even been drinking but the implication was enough to make the Jury wonder. He covered his discomfort by taking another drink of water.

'When you were heading towards the garage you said you heard my client and Miss Warner talking, could you describe the tone of their voices please?'

'Excuse me?'

'Were they whispering? Arguing? Loud?'

'They were just talking, a little louder than a whisper I guess.'

'Did Miss Warner sound uncomfortable to you?'

'No…'

'Did you hear anything that was said?'

'No…'

'So you have no idea what they were talking about before you arrived?'

'Objection your honor – asked and answered.'

'Sustained…get to the point Mr Anderson.'

'My point is this Mr Worthington – if you didn't hear what was said how do you know that Miss Warner was not a 'willing participant' in the kiss she shared with Miss Polniaczek?'

'I know Blair Warner, she ain't no goddamned dyke!' Worthington spat his answer with venom he was unable to hide. Anderson had hit a nerve and the Jury couldn't miss it.

Anderson's style was measured, polite. There was no hint of gamesmanship in his words or actions, he was amiable and courteous standing with his hands clasped behind his back as he waited patiently for each response before continuing, his voice clear and steady. His voice emanated casual authority and trust, which the Jury listened to with rapt attention. He neither acknowledged Worthington's venomous response nor played on it, it was enough that it was there – he could see it in the Jury's response.

'I see… Did it occur to you there may be another explanation for finding them together like that?'

'No sir, Polniaczek's been after Blair for as long as I've known her. Longer I reckon.'

'Were you aware that Miss Warner and Miss Polniaczek were partners for the assignment given by your Renaissance Literature Professor?'

'Yes Sir, Blair was upset about that – she wanted to be paired with me but Harris wanted the pairs to be the same gender to make it 'more authentic', waste of time if you ask me.'

'Do you know which play they were assigned?'

'Sure, Harris read all of the assignments out in class.'

'Would you tell the court what their assigned play was?'

'Romeo and Juliet…' it suddenly dawned on Brock where this line of questioning was going and it was clear he didn't like it one bit.

'I'd like to introduce Defence Exhibit 'B' into evidence – Miss Warner's notes for the assignment, dated the date of the incident….and Defence Exhibit 'C' Professor Harris' notes on the original assignment as it was given to students a week prior to the incident…'

Brock's composure was starting to slip again, sweat had appeared on his forehead and he swiped at it in a bid to try and lessen his appearance of apparent discomfort. He couldn't however hide it once Anderson began talking the Jury through Exhibits 'B' and 'C' outlining for them that there was another perfectly rational and innocent explanation for the situation that Worthington had walked in on that day. Moreover if there wasn't an 'innocent' explanation Brock's reaction was wholly inappropriate, misguided and went completely against his assertions that he would never put his hands on a woman in anger. Anderson's unwavering, confident tone was not what Brock had been expecting and he was disconcerted by the Defence Attorney's ease with the case. He knew Anderson was Blair's uncle, he knew the man had to hate his guts but here he only seemed genuinely interested in 'the truth' not in scoring points or humiliating him on the stand, yet somehow that's exactly what he was achieving. Brock crossed his arms as Anderson asked the next question.

'Do you still believe, Mr Worthington, that your reaction that day was acceptable?'

…

Anderson's interrogation of Worthington on the stand had done much to change the perception of the situation on the part of the public and more importantly the Jury. They still had a long way to go in this circus of a trial but he had made some headway in ensuring that the Jury no longer saw Brock as an 'innocent' party since the persona of gentlemanly conduct had slipped on more than one occasion giving them a glimpse into the intense anger buried just beneath the surface. Jo couldn't afford to hope just yet though, there was still a long way to go before the verdict and she knew better than most that anything could happen once the Jury were locked away in that room. She had seen it often enough back home.

…

Patience had never been Blair Warner's strongest suit when it came to situations like this. She hated waiting; she always had, ever since she was a child. She especially hated waiting when she wasn't aware of the full facts surrounding a situation. Being a witness she wasn't allowed to enter the public gallery to see how the trial was progressing and as such she had no idea how Jo was faring. That worried her more than anything. She knew that it would be hard for her delinquent to sit there and listen to Worthington's lies; she also knew that Jo was notoriously bad at hiding her emotions something that might count against her with a Jury. She really wished she were in there to support her, it wasn't easy being stuck in a room isolated from what was happening, she had even considered praying briefly but she knew that wouldn't do any good and had dismissed the notion as quickly as it had entered her head. Soon after however she had changed her mind and offered a silent, internal prayer to whatever God may listen to her – if Jo believed then even if she didn't it might do some good. It certainly wouldn't do any harm. It was the first time she had prayed since the night before her parents' divorce became final.

At least she wasn't alone however – Tootie and Nat were with her but for once in their lives the two younger girls remained absolutely silent. Each of them looked petrified and Tootie especially looked like she was about to burst into tears at the enormity of what was happening. Nat's usually bright and mischievous eyes were sparks of fear and she was unable to sit still, instead pacing and constantly looking out of the window. They were joined by the Doctor who had been responsible for the care of both Jo and Blair's injuries, and who had overseen their care since then but otherwise they were alone save for two court officers whose job it was to keep them happy and make sure they didn't run off before they were called to give their testimony.

Defence witnesses were kept separate from Prosecution witnesses in a bid to ensure there was no intimidation on either side. Blair was glad for that, the thought of having to sit in the same room as Brock while he did his best to destroy Jo was more than she could bear. It was bad enough having to sit near him during lectures, though she had been able to persuade her tutors to allow her to leave a microcassette recorder in most of the lectures that she shared with him, many had been understanding of the situation and having met Jo during their Freshman year found it hard to believe Brock's story that she had attacked him without provocation. Jo may have had a reputation as a tough former gang member but she also was well known for the fact that she was more likely to use her words to try and argue her point than violence. Jo's time on the student council had shown that she was no longer someone whose primary means of defence lay with her fists, as such Blair had been able to start sowing the seeds of a 'pro Jo, anti Brock' campaign, even if she had to be subtle about it with certain groups. She had even persuaded her father, who she had been thrilled to realise hadn't needed too much persuasion as it turned out, to assist her with talks with Langley's Scholarship board in order to ensure that Jo's scholarship would remain intact once this mess was over. She needed to make sure that Jo had something to come back to when this was all over.

'Natalie, you're only going to make yourself feel worse…'

'I can't help it Blair. What if I screw things up for Jo?'

'You won't, believe me…'

'I'm scared.'

'Me too, we all are…especially Jo, but everything's going to be fine.'

Natalie looked less than convinced but Tootie looked up at Blair's words hopefully. The youngest of the group needed that reassurance.

'You really think it will be?'

'Yes Tootie, I do. Jo's the victim here; my Uncle Peter's not going to let her go to prison.'

'I wish we knew what was happening…'

'Jo's got to be having a time of it in there, it's not right…'

'You're right Tootie… Jo wouldn't be in this mess if it wasn't for me…'

…

Accompanied by a highly regarded Doctor People's Exhibit 'A' was a set of impressive glossy photographs detailing Brock's many injuries which the Jury looked at with great, audible interest as Bryant's medical expert explained their significance and the likelihood that Brock's days as star of the Langley Lions were now over, his knee simply wouldn't hold up for the extended training sessions or matches needed to play College football. His ribs would heal in time but for now they were agonising and indicative of a deliberate blow designed to cause 'grievous bodily harm'. In short Jo Polniaczek had ruined the College football career of the most talented player Langley had seen in years and she had inflicted those injuries in a jealous rage while Brock had been unable, because Jo was a woman, to defend himself as he might otherwise have done since he hadn't wanted to hit a woman, even one like Jo.

Jo restlessly listened as the expert painted her as a devil, determined to cause as much damage as possible in the shortest amount of time. He claimed that someone with her gang affiliation would have been well versed in how to inflict such damage quickly. While that was a true enough statement to an extent she knew that it would turn many of the Jury to Worthington's camp once more. She felt sick as she realised the implications of that. She took the silver cross in her hand again and in doing so found it brought her some comfort, she truly wished her babcia was here now, she really needed the reassurance that the woman had always brought in times like these. It was hard to listen to the description of Worthington's injuries; even she had to admit that it was astonishing she had managed to inflict such serious injuries given her size compared to him. All that time spent helping her cousins Bud and Paulie when they had taken up boxing as kids had apparently paid off.

Anderson did his best to show that Worthington's injuries, which he had to concede were awful, were a result of a scrappy give and take fight rather than a continuous onslaught by Jo. He concentrated his efforts on showing that Jo had serious injuries of her own, as did Blair. The expert for his part had to admit that despite Worthington's testimony to the contrary Jo could not have inflicted the injury to his knee; it was made by a heavy blow from behind, not as Worthington claimed through the fact that she had forced him to the ground causing it to impact with the concrete driveway. Who then had caused the injury and why? Anderson left that hanging in the air for the Jury to ponder. They all knew the answer – there was only one person who could have done so. The question was why had she done so? If Jo had been attacking Brock and had already attacked Blair why would the blonde act in any way to help her attacker?

…

The testimony of the witnesses so far had taken the majority of the morning and lead them into the early part of the afternoon. There was a lot of information for the Jury to deal with and so a recess had been called for lunch. Jo barely ate a thing; she couldn't stop thinking about the trial, speculating as to what the Jury may be thinking. She wished so much that it was over. Listening to the testimony of both Brock and the Doctor had done nothing for her confidence, though she had to be thankful that she had Anderson on her side. He had certainly taken both witnesses down a peg or two.

Anderson did his best to reassure Jo as they discussed the trial and what may come up next. He tried to encourage her to eat something but could only manage to persuade her to eat half of an apple. His heart went out to her, he could see how scared she was but there was nothing for it. They had to see it through, no matter the outcome. They had done well so far, but he knew that the next witness was going to be tough to overcome.

…

At this point Bryant was ready to play what he hoped would be his trump card in ruining Jo's character on the stand – Detective Alexander Cristo, known to the residents of Jo's neighbourhood as 'The Count' for the character in Alexandre Dumas' famous novel. He arrived without ceremony; nothing like the entrance Brock had made, but was received with no less anticipation. Jo couldn't look as he approached the witness stand. She hadn't seen the man in five years. Had genuinely thought that he was dead and seeing him again brought back memories she didn't want to face. When she finally did look however, upon hearing his loud, authoritative voice swearing the now familiar oath on the Bible, he didn't look anything like she had imagined. If it wasn't for slight scarring on his right cheek and the more serious scarring on his right hand she wouldn't have been able to tell that anything had happened that night all those years ago. The night that had been the final straw for her mother and had caused Jo's best friend Gloria to commit suicide…

'Would you please state your name and occupation for the record?'

'Detective Alexander J Cristo, 41st Precinct. I work homicide.'

Bryant was practically rubbing his hands in glee as he went through the preliminary questions with Detective Cristo, making the most of his exemplary record and solid reputation. Making sure that the Jury listened as Cristo told them about his work with street gangs in Jo's old neighbourhood. Cristo was someone to be respected and Bryant's behaviour made it clear that he could spill the proverbial on Jo's 'true' character.

'How well do you know the defendant?'

'We go way back…' the look on his face and his tone told the Jury there was more to this story than met the eye and many leaned forward, intrigued.

Even though she had expected it, they wouldn't have brought The Count if he wasn't going to talk about that night, Jo felt sick at the thought of reliving her worst nightmare, here of all places. It had been an arrogant mistake. Then again she hadn't been in a position to back down, truthfully she hadn't thought once about backing down when it came down to it she had a reputation to uphold. The leader of the Young Diablos didn't back down from a fight. As Cristo began to recount the events that had changed her life, and that of her two closest friends, forever memories of a dark, cold night in February came flooding back in vivid Technicolor…

…

Sitting on the hood of a tan Plymouth Roadrunner they waited. It was so cold Jo could see her breath in front of her face; as usual she and Jessie were cooling their heels waiting for Gloria to get her ass in gear and arrive. She reckoned if there ever came a time when their best friend was on time the world would come to a halt in sudden fanfare. A ticker tape parade, the likes of which had never been seen would definitely be in order. She chuckled to herself at the thought and lit another cigarette before offering the packet to Jessie who took one gratefully before accepting a light and inhaling deeply. Jo had promised her Ma she wouldn't smoke but that had been a lie. Who cared if it wasn't ladylike? Who cared if she was too young? She was the leader of the Young Diablos and she'd do whatever she damn well pleased.

'What the Hell's takin her so long?'

'Probably screwin around with Tony…'

'Nah, Tony's history…'

'A six pack says he ain't…'

Jo nodded her agreement, a six pack wasn't that tough to get a hold of she'd lifted the one they had just opened from her Uncle Sal's kitchen just an hour before. She was tired of waiting for Gloria to arrive and taking another drag of her cigarette flicked it away before taking another couple of bottles from the pack and popping them open with her switchblade, she passed one to Jessie who grinned before taking a swig – she knew that Gloria was in for it. Jo hated to be kept waiting when they had things to do. Both girls were wearing their trademark dark blue reversible jackets – a devil on the back for all to see. They were safe enough for now, still within the boundary of their own turf and no sign of the maroon jacketed Lady Corsairs (LCs) who had been itching to start something ever since the dance at the gym a week before.

'If she don't move her goddamned ass we're outta here and she can go…'

Jo was saved the trouble of finishing her thought when she saw two familiar figures approaching on an even more familiar Chopper. She grinned in triumph as she turned to see Jessie's reaction to the newcomers.

'Son of a…'

'You owe me a six pack Jess, Tony's long gone…'

Gloria was unapologetic as she jumped gracefully from the back of Buzz' Chopper, kissed him hungrily for all the world to see and then walked casually towards her friends as her new boyfriend took off.

'Jeez Gloria couldn't ya have waited a coupla hours?' Jo's impatience was undisguised.

'Some things just can't wait, right Jess?'

The shorter girl shrugged and took another swig; Jo on the other hand looked ready to kill. She threw her now empty bottle against a nearby wall smashing it to pieces. Neither Gloria nor Jessie flinched; they were used to their leader's tempestuous ways.

'We gotta get movin, Christ knows we're already pushin our luck.'

Sliding from the hood of the car Jo relented slightly as she opened another bottle and handed it to Gloria, the blonde haired girl smiled as she took it and as they walked down the street drank it happily. Jo reserved the last bottle for herself – she'd swiped it and Gloria had been late that meant it was hers and she knew they wouldn't question it as she opened the bottle and began to drink the still cool beer. In a couple of hours it'd be over and they'd be able to swipe some more from the liquor store on their way back. They were walking fast, purpose in each stride. All they had to do was make it through the park, which was Wolf territory, without meeting the LCs and they'd be fine. The rest of the gang were back at the community centre waiting for news. This meeting was important, if Jo handled it right then the Wolves would band with them against the LCs. The park would be a safe zone and there'd be one less gang to have to worry about when it came to defending their turf. It wasn't to be however, as they rounded the corner and entered the park they instantly knew they'd made a mistake.

'Polniaczek!'

There was nowhere to go as the three girls realised too late that they were surrounded by maroon jackets. Jo cursed her stupidity for not bringing more of the gang with her but she had wanted the leader of the Wolves to know that she wasn't afraid – that she saw him as an equal not a superior in their tenuous alliance.

'We been lookin all over for ya…ain't it a little late for a stroll in the park?' amusement was clear on Delaney's face, she was the leader of the LCs a couple of years older than Jo, marginally taller and intensely arrogant.

'I ain't got time for bull Delaney. Cut to the chase.'

Jo lit yet another cigarette in an attempt to appear nonchalant. In truth she had known things were going to come to head sooner or later. It was part of the reason for this meeting with the Wolves. She now realised of course that she'd been played, hence the delay in the meeting which had originally been scheduled for the previous evening, Rocky Andrews and the Wolves were working with the LCs.

'Eddie Brennan…Stay the hell away from him…' Brennan had been Delaney's steady boyfriend until the dance at the gym a week before, then he had met Jo and things had changed.

Delaney's words were punctuated by a swift shove to Jo's shoulders which sent her backwards but she didn't fall, instead she regained her balance almost immediately and the fight was on…They were pretty evenly matched blow for blow, a clumsy wrestling match more than anything as they rolled around on the grass each trying to get as many hits in as possible to the jeers and cries of the LCs, Jessie and Gloria shouted words of encouragement to Jo but most were drowned out by the din of the bigger crowd. For now they wouldn't try to interfere, this was the best outcome – a one on one fight to settle differences was preferable to being slaughtered by the LCs, they were outnumbered and had little choice but to watch events unfold. Despite the jeering from the other gang Jo gained the upper hand quickly delivering a blow to Delaney's face which shattered the older girl's nose instantly covering Jo's right hand in dark blood.

'Jo watch out!'

One of the other LCs was lunging towards Jo now but Jessie was faster and took the bigger girl down before landing a few good hits. Chaos ensued. Gloria, Jessie and Jo found themselves being severely beaten. The situation seemed hopeless for them, they were badly outnumbered, at least five to one, and there was no chance they could win with those odds. As if on cue and seemingly from nowhere the rest of the Young Diablos appeared, ready for action with knives drawn… Jo let out an agonising cry when she felt a white hot pain in her shoulder as Delaney took advantage of the chaos to drive her switchblade into her target. If it hadn't been for Jo's jacket, and Delaney's ineptitude Jo knew her injury would be much more severe, as it was she could feel the blood pouring from the small wound but there was little she could do about that now – Delaney wasn't through with her and everything about her spelled out clearly that Jo was facing her own death. She needed to act fast and so she drew her own switchblade, a knife she had stolen from a box her father had left behind the night he had abandoned her, and rushed towards Delaney…

…

'That's when I showed up on the scene. If I hadn't there's no doubt in my mind she'd have killed Lauren Delaney…'

Jo put her head in her hands. This was it; there was no way the Jury would buy her story now. She couldn't help it, the tears cascaded her face without her even realising it…what happened next hadn't been her fault, she'd done everything in her power to stop it…