Hey guys, thanks for all the reviews on the last chapter. I'm glad that new readers are adding me to their favorite author/stories lists and am happy that we still have readers from the beginning. Here we go with….

CHAPTER 53:

Going inside means admitting it, admitting that I'd just witnessed a murder. Jack's dead and he ain't never coming back to hustle me and my gang no more. Sure, I'd seen people die before, you couldn't live around these parts and not see things like that, but this was different. This was planned, premeditated and occurred just a few feet from where I stood. His blood is still plastered on my shirt, acting as a reminder that I'm never going to be the same again. We're square now; he killed Jesse and I allowed him to get killed by Kingfischer. That rumble is going to burn clear in my mind until the day that I die.

The energy was something that I'd never seen before. My gang was burning and ready for their first real chance to get back at Jack Larson for ordering the death of our beloved friend. We were chomping at the bit, sitting in Frankie's house and waiting for quarter til. Some were drinking and getting a nice buzz, others covered their nervousness with laughter, while I sipped at a coke with a content smile on my face. Adam was true to his word; my brother would be out in two years. Preston, Frank, and I had agreed that telling the gang the day of the rumble was the best idea to keep the murder under wraps. They'd all sat, stony faced as they contemplated. Ian had grinned evilly and wished he could commit the act himself. Janice had nodded her approval. No one opposed and they were pleased that my brother would be released early. The mood was good as we piled out the door and began the walk to the empty alleyways next to the docks. My blade sat coolly in my pocket, freshly sharpened and ready to fight for my honor. A bike chain dangled out of my jeans, a second weapon should my switch get lost in the shuffle. Wheatley and Dupree met up with us on Sansdale and Fifth Avenue. They all looked ready and able to fight; even Wheatley seemed to have laid off the drugs for the event.

"Larson," I greeted with a nod as we advanced upon the battlegrounds.

"Flighter, Wheatley, Dupree, nice night for a rumble," He replied with a smirk.

Looking Jack in his pale gray eyes, I shook at knowing this was the last time I would see him alive. For a fleeting second, I felt like telling him to get in his car and get as far away from this place as he could, but as Jesse's face eclipsed the thought, the hatred returned. Ian stepped up to start the rumble and a few seconds ticked by before an opponent stepped into the light pushing down from the dim streetlamp. Kingfischer briefly met my eyes and I nodded ever so slightly to show my loyalty. He allowed a brief smile to pass his lips; a secret burning between the two of us. My feet started to shuffle back and forth as Ian eyed his challenger dangerously. That kid was in for it; rumbles brought even more fury out of my hazardous friend. They had one girl to our two and I'd give her to Janice to take care of. Most of the boys had a few inches on me and I searched the crowd to pick off one close to my size. I may be strong but I sure ain't stupid. These weren't drunken socs or greaser girls, these are seasoned fighters. Ian threw the first punch and man was it a hard one. The attack began moments after the crack of the kid's jaw subsided and I went in swearing, swinging, and screaming.

Things were a blur after that. I vaguely remember pulling the bike chain out and choking one of Larson's crew while Dupree pounded him senseless. My long hair was tied up in a bun to keep me from being a simple target; hair is easy to get at in a fight. It felt like the fighting went on for hours. My arms were beginning to tighten and blood was rushing from a gash above my right eyebrow as I swung my fists into the gut of my enemy. My ankle was jarred after being stomped on by one of Larson's bunch and I was sure that it was sprained. Air was rushing in and out of my lungs as I struggled for breath and strength to continue. Another guy didn't fill in my fallen rival's place and I figured the end was near. The other side was falling back and as the dust settled we were cheering our victory. Kingfischer raised his hands and admitted defeat while Larson bitterly spat blood on the ground, refusing to admit the loss. Adam kicked out his legs and silence ensued as their leader tumbled to the ground.

"No one gives a damn what you have to say any more, Jack," Kingfischer shouted angrily.

Tempers varied within Larson's gang. Some knew of the overthrow while others were in complete shock. Still, no one made an attempt to prevent Adam as he viciously punched his leader until he stopped attempting to get off the ground. He didn't ask Jack to beg, didn't give him the chance to skip town. Instead, the shining pistol came out in all its glory and was wielded on Jack Larson. I've never seen pupils shrink that small, to almost nothing.

"Ple, Ple, Please don't do this," Jack managed to stutter out.

I was rigid and stiff as Adam verbally tore Larson to pieces. The fuzz was bound to show after all the racket we'd made. People in this neighborhood were sick and tired of the gangs and the violence that went along with them and they were willing to call the police at any chance to get a few of us jailed.

"Take it like a man, Larson," Kingfischer screamed as he lowered the gun to Jack's temple.

I'd expected Larson to writhe around and try to pry the heater out of Adam's hand. Instead, he situated himself on his knees and prayed to god until the bullet lodged itself into his brain. Kids like us don't got any god to pray to; it must be true that with death comes faith. Blood erupted from the wound because of the shot being fired in such close range and I flinched as a splash of the crimson liquid littered my cheek. Larson would never hang at the corner store again, trash talking broads and picking fights. He'd never plan another gang rising. He'd also never kill another one of my friends. No one spoke and the sound of sirens began to fill the crisp night air. Before we scattered, the crew formerly known as Larson began to clap. It was slow at first but quickly turned into a hollering frenzy. To any bystander, it would have looked like they'd just won the rumble instead of the other way around. They were happy, truly happy about what had taken place while I stood there mystified.

"To Kingfischer, the new leader of the Lansdale turf," I concluded finally.

After Dupree, Wheatley, and I shook his hand, we were off into the night in order to escape a visit to the local jailhouse. My travel was slow due to my ankle and Frankie threw my arm around his shoulders to quicken my pace.

"That was fucking nuts," He stated.

All I could do was nod. Everything about the murder of Jack Larson was plaguing my mind. If there is a hell, would I be going there for allowing this to happen? Or am I already on my way there because of the other things I've done? Frank was talking to me but all I could hear was a dull buzzing. The gash to my eye must have messed my head up something awful. It felt like years until the two of us finally made our way up the path to Frankie's house. All the gang was there, and most of us were more than a little worse for wear. Those that were better off were helping to clean up the seriously wounded. I stumbled over to the couch and lifted up my pant leg, revealing my ankle which was swollen to the size of a small melon.

"Shit," I cursed darkly.

Preston stitched up my face and did a bad job of it, but as long as it holds together I won't complain much. My ankle was of more concern, however, and the soothing coldness of the ice was finally starting to numb the throbbing pain. We celebrated our victory over the next few days, and I stuck around for a week to make sure that no funny business happened. Luckily, I avoided any contact with my father, but recognized that luck was soon to run out. After being sure that there wasn't going to be any jazz after the rumble, I loaded my small pack into Two-Bit's car and bid farewell to my friends. Leaving them was always tough, but they did their best to make it easy.

"Take care of yourself, we'll miss you," Ian told me before shutting the car door and waving at me until he was nothing more then a speck.

The ride back to Tulsa was hard, seeing as driving with a fucked up ankle ain't no easy feat. I tried my best to get my mind off the pain, taking a few aspirin every once in a while. The rumble played freely through my mind what must have been about a hundred times. Lighting up a smoke, I rolled the window down and let the wind rustle through my hair. The night was chilly but I figured I was shivering for another reason. Man, I sure don't feel tough right now but I let it slide because I bet any hood who ever played a role in a murder felt the same way; at least their first time. The outskirts of the greaser side of town began to materialize in front of me and I gunned it to the Curtis'. Limping roughly up the path, I opened the light screen door and the guys took me in, looking first at my eye, then at the hole in my shirt where a knife had nicked me and sliced my side up, and lastly at how I was favoring my right ankle.

"I hate to ask this but did y'all win or lose Orion?" Darry asked.

"We won," I responded, moaning as I made my way over to the couch.

Each step felt like hell and I was relieved when Sodapop brought a pack of frozen peas from the kitchen and situated them on my ankle. The look in their eyes gave away the question they all wanted to ask.

"Kingfischer blew his brains out," I said bluntly.

I didn't spare them, knowing they were all tough enough to bear it.

"Jesus," Pony muttered, paling slightly.

Ponyboy's reaction is what made it all real. All the others who I'd talked to about Jack's death had had a front row seat. It hadn't felt real until now. Dallas and Two-Bit met my gaze and got the sense that I was about to bolt. When I tried to get up, they pushed me back down on the couch and held my arms firmly, afraid of what I might do.

"It ain't like you pulled the trigger," Dal soothed breathlessly as I struggled against him.

But at that moment is sure as hell felt like I had.

END OF CHAPTER.

Well there you go, the much awaited Stillwater rumble chapter. Let me know what you think with reviews!