Aahhh! I'm done school! Super scary stuff! Now I have to get a job and go to university and start to do adult things. Blah. I posted the first two chapters of my Gargoyles fanfic, so check it out. I've been developing my character for five years in that story, so it shall be good.

Thunderbird: You're just going to have to see what I put my poor little Thwei-Tjau'ke through!

BAstet1023: Tomas probly won't because of some stuff that is coming up, but no hints for you:)

Olgite the Squidgal: The artist responded to my comments. Once I finish my story based off her pic, I'll tell her so she can put a link up. Coolness, huh?

Golden Wind: don't really think any miracle will be happening soon… As for the killing, um, read on!

Kitty Felone: Mmmm, Yautja. Mmmm, Guan-Thwei. (drool)

Lord Azrael: My updates aren't going to be as frequent now because I have to write each chapter (no pre-written stuff) and you do want it to be good, right? No nasty, crap writing for moi! Also, expect a massive wait in about a month because I get to go to Ottawa on a cross Canada road trip! But maybe I'll put two chapters up… Reviews pweese!

Thwei-Tjau'ke: Bloodstone.

Hiju: Fighting stance.

Kainde Amedha: Hard Meat, Xenomorphs.

Spanish words

Puto: Basically, the masculine version of bitch.

Pendeho: Idiot.

Just a note, this is El Salvadorian Spanish, which is different from Mexican Spanish. I'm not sure, but some differences may be in the words I use. Bear with me.

Chapter six

"Did that fucking puto bother coming?" growled Jose as he slouched into the midst of the group, trailed by two lanky Hispanic boys. Damian and George were already there with another two football players.

"No. The pussy didn't show up." said Damien with a scowl. "Little freak. He left for four years and came back even weirder. He probably won't even get here." he continued.

"No kidding. He looks like a fag with his hair long!" snickered George.

One of the new boys announced: "If this asshole isn't here in ten minutes, I'm getting the hell out of here." There was murmured agreement. A Hispanic boy produced battered pack of cigarettes and offered it around. Damien and one of his friends accepted one each and they began smoking, the ends tiny orange stars in the blackness. Low, cruel laughter danced through the night air. The object of their rages emerged silently from a band of trees.

"That's terrible for your health. You'll be out of breath and go down quicker." Matt said, a deadly smile on his face, his eyes dark, empty and cold with pent-up aggression.

…..

Matt observed his opponents, taking in their appearances. Jose, his two friends and one of the other boys had at least one knife each in their pockets. One appeared to have nothing, and the others had unknown, lumpy objects. They were all dressed in dark colors.

"I've been here the whole time. I watched each of you arrive." Matt said. He noted that Damien and George's two friends shifted uncomfortably. "You've never heard of a fair fight, oomans?" he asked as he adjusted the thin leather gloves on his hands, making sure the studs were correctly placed over his knuckles. He slid into the Hiju, arms spread. "Cowards." he whispered loud enough for all to hear. Jose growled and muttered something in Spanish, putting up his fists like a boxer.

"Come on." he said, beckoning with one hand. Matt advanced slowly; they circled around like wild creatures. Thwei-Tjau'ke had taught him not to be over-eager when your opponent is faster, bigger and stronger than you. It probably didn't matter now, but it was a habit that was difficult to break. Jose made the first move, charging, swinging his fists wildly. Matt dodged easily, always just that crucial amount ahead of the tall boy. He grinned broadly; he was going to enjoy this!

He seized Jose's fist and swung him with a grunt into the others, who scattered. He stood tall and rubbed his chin thoughtfully with his left hand, the other holding his elbow.

"I'll take you, you and you." His right hand jabbed at Jose, Damien and George. "You lot can watch them get their asses kicked." he smirked to the newcomers. They attacked hesitantly. Matt blocked and feinted, not striking a single blow, infuriating them. With a roar, the short-tempered Damien threw himself at Matt! He braced himself and rammed his shoulder into Damien's stomach, catapulting the blonde boy over in a perfect flip. He was immediately tackled by George, his arms twisted painfully behind his back. Jose punched him once, twice, in the stomach before Matt kicked him in the face with both feet and slammed the back of his head into George's nose. He regained his balance, shaking out his twinging arms and turned warily. Damien was standing again. Matt leaped forwards and slapped him, a move intended to demean and infuriate his enemy. He ducked just as Damien's big, meaty fist came swinging by. The breeze ruffled the stray pieces of hair that escaped his loose ponytail. That sucker was big and dumb as a doorknob, but he sure had a swift fist! Matt punched Damien's stomach and found it soft and inviting to his fists. Much nicer than the hard muscle of a Yautja. He slammed his fists in over and over again, and then finished with a powerful upper-cut. Damien slumped over, completely unconscious. He whirled just as Jose roundhouse kicked at his head. His lightning fast reflexes saved him; instead of striking head, Jose's foot struck Matt's hands, which locked around his ankle. Matt twisted hard, dropping Jose quickly with a blood curdling howl. Jose gripped his knee in agony and howled again, but still had the sense to roll away.

"GET HIM NOW, YOU PENDEHOS!" he roared. Matt was simultaneously attacked by the five remaining teenagers.

…..

It was like battling a hive of Kainde Amedha. Every sense had to be in peak condition and you could not concentrate on any one opponent longer than the time it took to strike a blow, or they enveloped you, crushed you. One of his elbows crunched into someone's nose. A fist clipped his ear, than another flew into his stomach, knocking the air from his lungs. A hand grabbed his hair. Matt twisted and boxed an ear. His hair was released, ending the agony in his scalp. He threw someone down while hands scrabbled at his muscled torso, searching for something soft to grab. They found none. Matt seized George and slammed his foot into his stomach, than his groin. One down. He wound his fingers into the longish hair of one of the Hispanic boys and grabbed the collar of another, slamming their foreheads into each other with a sound like two coconuts being knocked together. A glancing blow only. Something slammed into the back of his head, hard. Matt reeled as spots danced before his eyes. He was whacked in the stomach than punched in the face three times before his guard was up again. He took out one of Damien's friends by a swift punch to the throat. He was inflicting much more damage than he took; even though he was outnumbered! Matt almost laughed as a new bout of adrenaline rushed through his system. Injuries be damned, he was having fun! Suddenly, silver flashed in the moonlight. Matt jumped back, his body stretching into a smooth, long line, as it swept across his body, a white hot pain. He completed two handsprings before he landed lightly in a crouch. He touched the rip in his windbreaker and shirt, the skin underneath. His hand came back stained with his blood. Matt stood straight and held up his hands.

"Alright, alright. Timeout. No knives! This is hand to hand combat only!" He glared at Jose's remaining friend, at the knife smeared with his own blood, gripped tightly in a fist. They glared back. They all held weapons now. Two held blades and the other wore a set of very nasty looking brass knuckles. "I thought this was fair combat. If you are allowed to have knives, than I will use mine and mine are bigger, sharper and I know how to use them one hundred times better." He flashed the hilt of one blade. The others didn't move. Matt felt a twinge of unease at their silence. His hackles rose. Click! The metallic noise of something releasing rang through the night. Matt froze for an instant before his instincts took over. His hand snaked into his jacket and fastened around the smooth hilt of a throwing knife. He turned while his arm straightened, flinging the dagger through the air. This took only a few bare milliseconds. A wet thump sounded. Matt was stopped in the position he threw the knife in, right arm extended, partially crouched, right leg straight and bracing him. It took a moment for his mind to take back over from his instinct that had saved his life so many dozens of times. Another teenager stood swaying a short distance away. His throat worked and a strangled choking noise emerged. Something fell from his hand, landing heavily in the long, dewy grass. The boy teetered over backwards. Matt was in motion at once, catching him before his head could strike the ground, lowering him safely. His ornate silvery dagger protruded from the exact centre of his chest, just below the collarbone. Over half the blade was embedded. Dark, viscous liquid bubbled between his lips as a great, shuddering sigh wracked his whole body.

Matt bared his teeth and murmured, "Shit." He looked at the others, both standing, lying down and leaning and registered the shock, fear and disgust on their faces. "SHIT!" he exclaimed.

Mwahahahahaha! Cliffhanger! Please review for faster updates!