Sorry. I took a bit longer to get this one written, but better late than never I always say (and in my case it normally is late). On we go!

Jackson never forgot what happened on that ski trip. His photographic memory never allowed even the slightest detail to blur out of focus in his memory's eye. His heart broke when he'd remember the unnatural way that Richard's leg was bent as he lay on the snow slowly fading to unconsciousness. But most of all, he would never forget the promise he had made… to his father… to himself. He would fulfill that promise. He had waited seven years since making that promise, slowly getting stronger, preparing for the day of repayment… when the boys could live free of their father's terrorization.

In the seven years since the ski trip, Jackson and Richard Rippner had changed a lot. Jackson was now a boy of seventeen in his junior year of high school, as thin as a toothpick, and his face had made its journey from the soft, round face of a ten-year-old to the thin face of a boy well on his way to becoming a man. Richard was twelve years old and very smart for his age. He always had his reddish-brown hair combed back and his dull, grey-blue eyes were always hidden behind glasses. More often than not, he would be found with his nose buried in some book. However, he had no manner of physical strength and took after Jackson in the toothpick factor. Though he was only twelve and his birthday was beyond the cut-off date for most schools, his intelligence was undeniable and it would have been a sin to hold him back. He was a twelve year-old eighth grader. Jackson was proud of his brother. Five years younger but only three grades lower. Howe often does that happen?

Now the school the Rippner brothers attended, like many school, had its society of bullies, and as in every bully society, it had its hierarchy. Bob Thompson was among the most feared and had the most power during lunch. Rumor had it that he had never yet had to pay for his lunch with his own money. Ian Schnobb was known for the fantastic jobs he would do in beating people up. He was big, slow, and stupid, but he knew how to put someone in the hospital in a jiffy. A new bully had come to plague the school this year. A particularly burly senior named Harold Borden, who was roughly the size of an ox had quickly taken the role of "head bully". He demanded the respect of every other bully on campus… even Thompson and Schnobb.

They picked on the Rippner brothers a lot at school. Despite Jackson's exercise, he still was not a terribly strong boy, and though he wasn't particularly short, many of the boys far surpassed him in height. They lorded this over him all the time during lunch and after school. Something about him sort of frightened them, but their overfed confidence kept them from stopping tormenting Jackson and his brother after school. Richard was even easier prey. Jackson had a strong will, but Richard was as pliable as soft rubber. He could be forced to do almost anything if the proper amount of threat was put behind it. Jackson would always stick up for him though and somehow would get him out of such situations. The bullies soon realized that though Jackson Rippner would put up with just about any crap they could throw at him, he would not let them touch his brother. They often wondered why he was so protective of the little geek.

One day in early November of Jackson's junior year, the boys were walking home. Richard was quite the sight. So many books were piled into his thin little arms that Jackson was surprised they didn't all just explode out of his brother's grip. His backpack bulged out far behind him, and somehow he managed to hold his lunchbox. It dangled loosely by its handle from the pinky of his left hand. It almost seemed that Richard felt that if he didn't carry everything with him at all times, he would fail the school year. Jackson's load was not so heavy. He had a notebook flipped up under his left arm and his lunch box hung from the same hand, leaving his right hand free to do whatever needed to be done.

Richard's leg had healed fairly nicely, but every once in a while, on gloomy days like today, his knee would throb, and a minor limp would make its appearance in his walk. Jackson noticed this with quiet dismay. A twinge pinched his heart and anger flared up from his gut, temporarily clouding his vision, but he gained control over his emotions again, and his anger once more was bottled up in the place where he held it in store.

They were walking in a fenced back-alley. Brown leaves carpeted the ground, turning their footsteps into loud, shuffling crunches. Tall trees reached into the sky overhead, the branches mostly bare save for a few curled leaves clinging desperately to the limbs on withered stems.

Then Jackson became conscious of leaves being crunched behind them and on the other side of the fence. He turned around quickly. Richard looked at the fence and saw a big shape blocking some of the light that would have come through between the slats that hadn't been there a short time ago. What Jackson saw was Harold Borden standing in a manner so as to block their exit from the alley in that direction. His right-hand man, Thompson was standing beside and a little behind him. That was when Schnobb and another guy scuttled from behind the fence to block their other exit. Borden smiled sinisterly at the trapped brothers.

"What do you want, Borden?" Jackson asked in his soft, deep voice.

"Well, any money you two might have would be a good start," Borden replied.

Richard, who had noticed that they were trapped and was looking at the much older, bigger boys with eyes that were big even without the slight magnifying effect of the lenses to his glasses. He instantly fumbled in his pocket for a small wad of one dollar bills, and gave it to Thompson who had stepped forward to collect the offerings. Jackson remained motionless, his blinding blue eyes boring into Borden.

"I don't have any money," he said calmly. "I only bring enough for lunch."

"Oh, well that's a shame isn't it? Ah well… the money was only a secondary thing anyway."

"Wh-what do you mean?" Richard asked, starting to panic. He tugged on Jackson's sleeve and whispered, "What do they mean, Jackson?"

"What he means is that we wouldn't go through all the trouble of cornering you little brats just so that we could collect a couple bucks," pipes up Thompson. "We aim to have ourselves a little fun."

"Yeheheah…" giggled Schnobb stupidly and pounded his fist into his open hand.

"So," Borden said, cracking his knuckles, "Who's first?"

"Aww, Harry," Schnobb whined, "Why do we always have to do 'em one at a time? There are four of us and two of them. We can take 'em both at once."

Borden rolled his eyes, "Because, you idiot, it's more fun to make one watch while the other gets beat up and then vice-versa."

"But I wanna beat 'em up now," Schnobb persisted.

"Fine," Borden said flippantly raising a hand, "go ahead."

The boys, who had been watching this interaction, Jackson disgusted, Richard afraid, were now attacked with ferocity. Thompson grabbed Jackson and held the now kicking boy in front of Borden in a bear-hug. Borden put up a guard and started hitting him. Jackson writhed, trying to get free and contorting against the blows, and he saw as the bully who had been next to Schnobb bore down on his brother and held him (in much the same manner as Jackson himself was being held) in front of Schnobb. The behemoth began pouring punches down on his little brother, the first of which broke his glasses.

Rage dumped a vat of adrenaline into Jackson's bloodstream. He screamed in combined fury and pain as Borden's hardened left knuckles connected with his nose, bloodying it. He faced the bully, his eyes positively burning, tears of rage beginning to well up in his eyes. There was a madness in his eyes… one that caused Borden to falter a little before striking Jackson in the stomach. He could hear his brother getting hurt. He wouldn't let these thugs hurt his brother. He lashed out one of his legs and kicked Borden right in the groin. The older boy was about to land another fist on Jackson's face but his fist to a sharp turn downward as he doubled over. Jackson used this opportunity to lash out again and kick Borden in the face. He succeeded, and he hit him hard. Borden went down hard on his back, out cold.

"Hey!" protested Thompson as he saw in dismay what Jackson was doing. Acting quickly, he raised one of his arms until it was firmly around Jackson's neck. He tightened and flexed both arms, squeezing the air out of him. Jackson gasped and was quickly cut off when the grip around his neck tightened. He brought his free hand up, and instead of grabbing at Thompson's arm, he grabbed the bully's shaggy hair and started yanking for all he was worth, gagging all the while. Thompson grunted but didn't let loose. Jackson worked his other hand free and started clawing at Thompson's face and kicking his feet behind him, striking the bully's shins.

"Ow! You bastard! Stop it!" Thompson arched his back and lifted Jackson till his feet no longer touched the ground. This made it that much harder to catch any fleeing breath of air. Finally Jackson got Thompson's nose in a relatively good hold and started pulling it in erratic directions. The boy screamed and let go of Jackson who tumbled to the ground, gasping in ragged gulps of air, getting to his feet and proceeding to grab Thompson's head and ramming it into the fence. Blood splattered from his fractured skull, and he slumped to the ground, unconscious.

He turned his attention to the other group. Schnobb didn't even notice that Borden and Thompson had been taken out. Richard wasn't in good condition though, bruised and bloodied. Jackson's rage doubled, his eyes zoned in on Schnobb. He yelled and sprinted up behind him. Just before he collided with the much larger boy, he sprung up into the air and landed squarely on Schnobb's back. Schnobb gave out a cry of surprise and stopped beating up Richard, reaching instead for the new burden on his shoulders and back. Jackson grabbed the bully's head, wrapping one arm around his thick neck, half to strangle him, and half simply to stay on his back. With the other hand, he started grabbing fistfuls of hair and ripping them out of the bully's head. Schnobb screamed. Apparently he wasn't expecting this. The other bully, the one holding Jackson's brother, could only stand there with his mouth open in shock. This was definitely new.

One of Schnobb's hands went to the long, slender arm wrapped around his neck and the other was reaching up, trying to get a purchase on the raging boy's head. He couldn't believe what was happening. How did he get away from Borden and Thompson? Black spots started to swarm across his field of vision and he realized the little devil must be cutting off his blood flow. He got a firm hold in Jackson's hair, held his head and bashed the back of his own head into Jackson's face.

He cried out and lost all grip on Schnobb, falling to the leaf-ridden ground. He was amazed at how much that head-butt hurt! The behemoth turned around and started toward him. Jackson kicked up at him and got him in the solar plexus. All the wind left Schnobb's lungs in a huge whoosh. Schnobb doubled onto his hands and knees trying to regain his breath. Jackson got to his feet, grabbed Schnobb's head and lowered himself so he was right next to his ear.

"This is what happens to people who hurt my brother!" he whispered fiercly.

He wrapped his other hand around and grabbed the far side of Schnobb's chin, wrenching Schnobb's head around until there came a sickening crack from his neck and Schnobb's wide, surprised eyes met Jackson's cold blue ones. Schnobb's body went completely limp, his mouth gaped open as he raggedly and unsuccessfully tried to gasp in air. Jackson let the bully's head fall limply to the ground, stood upright, and watched as the shaking chest cavern of the behemoth stopped moving with absolutely no expression on his face. He turned and looked at the bully who was still holding his brother, dumbfounded. He took several slow deliberate steps toward the scared bully.

The other boy's eyes flicked to the body of Schnobb, whose head was turned at a gruesome angle from his body; it almost looked like it was on backwards. He looked back at the oncoming boy, whose eyes almost seemed to be glowing with an insane fury. Did he just kill Schnobb? The look on that Rippner boy's face made it seem very probable. And he was next. He was holding Richard more as a barrier between him and Jackson now. He backed up a few steps, shoved Richard toward Jackson and ran away. Jackson rushed forward and caught his brother before he could fall. He watched the other beast run away with cold, pitiless eyes.

His expression changed very rapidly from heartless to loving as he looked at his brother. His brother looked back at him, squinting a little without his glasses. They embraced again, and when they pulled out of it, Richard looked down at the lifeless body of Schnobb.

"Is he dead?" he asked softly.

Jackson looked at the wide-open eyes and mouth and made the safe assumption, "I think so." Now that the initial fury was over, and his brother was safe again, he could hardly believe what he had just done.

"How about them?" he glanced over at Thompson and Borden. Thompson was gaining a nice big bloody spot around his head, but looked to be still breathing. Borden was already starting to stir. All things considered, he got off pretty lucky.

"They're alive, but we should go. He looks like he's going to wake up soon," Jackson glanced at Borden, "We'll let him take care of his friends," he looked back at Richard, "Where are your glasses?"

"I don't know, but they're definitely broken."

"Oh… that's not good," Jackson said, thinking of how his deplorable father will probably be too angry at Richard for these thugs destroying his glasses.

Richard looked at Schnobb again. "You killed him," he stated, clearly in shock.

Jackson took a shaky breath and said, "Yes, I did."

"Do you realize what dad would do if he found out about this?"

"I have a good idea."

"I won't tell him, but please, Jackson. Don't do that again. I don't want you to do something that'll get you arrested, or worse yet, put yourself in a position where you might get killed. Especially not on my account… okay?"

Jackson couldn't meet his eyes. He'd made a promise on the ski-slopes. His father had done several things since, and Jackson had kept a tally on them all. He could not lie to Richard. Finally he met Richard's pleading grayish blue eyes.

"I guarantee nothing."

This chapter turned out to be longer than I thought… but it has more action so hopefully you didn't get bored from it. Please, review!