Hello there, my fine droogies! I've personally decided to just post the first half of my "one-shot" Georgie fanfic and continue working on the other half. When I wrote out this whole thing on my Word Document, it took up 10 whole pages! So yeah, it did got pretty long.

Now, first things first, I realize that there are some odd moments between Alex and Georgie, and I just want to say to just don't worry about it. :P I made Alex a touch more awkward than usual but there aren't any "boy romance" in this fic. My apologies for those who like yaoi.

This fic has a mixture of elements from both the movie and the book, so if you see some things that appear strange to you (If you only saw the movie.), then don't be alarmed, because they're all from the book.

Now, on with the show!

His Retribution

Part One

A smeck, and he starts to govoreet in a very gentleman like goloss, "What's it going to be then, eh?"

O, t'was another nochy the same as every other past nochies. Right now, my chelloveck droogs and I were like sitting all together in a small banda of four at the back end of the Korova Milkbar, where we were enjoying sipping our little glasses of Milk Plus, or as I like to call it, "Moloko Vellocet" to sound all nice and proper for the pseudo-intellectual devotchkas that like to come here from time to time. Anything to keep those snooty cheenas' defenses down so that my shaika and I can perform that swell ol' in-out, in-out on them, real skorry so that we can all move on to the next exciting thing.

I turn my gulliver towards the one who just spoke, an old droog of mine who's none other than Alex Burgess, a real bony chelloveck without a care in the world, you viddy. He is the leader to our malenky gruppa, which never cease to make my kroovy boil, what with him being the youngest of us four, and me being the eldest, with Dickens following close behind. Then, of course, we had Pete, an introverted chelloveck who's more normal than any of us could ever wish to be. Back to Dickens, well, Dickens is the biggest of us four, but sadly the dimmest out of all of us, which has earned him the infamous name, "Dim". Never the less, we share a good bond between us, this sometimes making Alex a malenky bit jealous of it. Too baddiwad he has too much on his plate to ever let another person into his world, Alex being a treacherous little cal and all.

You see, Alex and I used to be very good droogies, this being way back in our Sunday Skollywoll days when we were just a couple of molodoy malchicks, fillying around together and guffing our gullivers off, our parents letting us sleep together in each others' houses. Those were the days…

"I say we tolchock those ptitsas over there," Dim replies to Alex, leering at the glaring devotchkas that were sitting near us before he gave a bit of some lip music to them-Prrrrt!-to throw them off, Pete smecking quietly in the corner. I gave those snooty devotchkas, with their colorful wigs of purple, green, and orange, along with their matching eye make-up to boot, the stink glazz and they immediately turned their way from us. They were all wearing straight black dresses, in sharp contrast to our off-white platties, and what wondrous feeling it would be to have them down and out to pump our inner dangerous passion into their fashionista-anorexic bodies.

"Dim, watch it!" Alex barks, making Dim stop his nonsense and straighten himself up immediately. I sigh, making Alex turn his way at me with a smirk.

"Does thoust have an idea over what to do this evening, chap?"

I viddied at him with a growl, "Don't start."

Alex, with his fucking way of always winning over people with his looks and charms, tilts his gulliver at me all innocent like before going on, "Don't start with what, my malenky droog?"

"You know what, Alex!" I sit all the way back down in my leather seat with an irritated sigh, "We've talked about this and I don't want Pete nor Dim knowing about our private conversations."

"Private conversations, you say?" Dim asks, him sitting on the left side of Alex and me sitting on his other side, and Dim is now leaning over Alex's lap, making Alex a malenky bit uncomfortable. Those dva never get along, and I always feel like their pee, stopping their immature bitvas and the like. It gets tiring after a while, what with us being nadsats already and not children anymore. The strangest thing about us tree is that as Dim and I like to talk and have a smeck together, Alex likes to interrupt our fun and put an end to our conversations, as if he was like a jealous child putting an end to his parents from kissing each other just because it makes him uncomfortable. As I have said before, Alex and I used to be the very best of droogs, but ever since we started a shaika, he morphed into something I didn't liked, a barking mad leader like that Hitler and his soldiers, ordering them around with a fiery passion in his goloss, instead of that carefree and funny chelloveck that I've grown and cherished when I was younger. I flicker my hand up and down slowly, "Settle down now", and Dim leans back away from Alex's lap, making Alex sigh a malenky bit, as if comfortable again.

"What's it going to be then, eh?"

Alex and I, as I explained earlier, decided we were going to be a pseudo-shaika for the hell of it, just for fun. At first during the day whenever Alex would swing by my mesto, we would go out and sit near the streets, begging the innocent and the oh-oh-oh'ing townfolks with our big weepy glazzies, and asking with a fake whimper for some cutter. As the day faded towards the evening, we would count all the pretty polly we collected that day and guffed at the stupidity of the townsfolks, repeating the same thing over and over in different corners throughout the entire town. It was all there is; fun for boyos like him and myself.

A cheena sneezes nearby.

The crimes became worse. Oh, things always gets worse, you viddy. Alex grew a couple of inches over the course of a few years and that's when he decided we tolchok the innocent to steal their cutter instead of pawing them like a couple of poor hungry puppies. At first I thought he was joking, somewhat believing he's gone off his rocker too… But, the look in his sea colored glazzies convinced me that he was really serious.

So at the tender, tender age of twelve, we had our first dirty ultra-violence, and I'll admit that I wasn't a fan of it at first, but the string of oncoming victims desensitized me through it all after a while. It goes on and on, on a daily basis, like a screaming fucking clockwork that like terrifies you and rips you apart. Around this time, my em and pee decided to leave town, and never came back. My em was a librarian, very thin and proper, a real Victorian, and my pee was a professor for this skolliwoll for adults, very gentleman like and such. They have been missing for several days and nights, and I was stuck at Alex's home while the millicents looked for them. I remember the comforting von of Alex's voloss, it being the scent of like book pages and crisp shampoo, as we spatchka on the same bed at nochy.

Alex was and will always be an interesting malenky chelloveck. He would wrap his arms around me and have his gulliver on underneath my chin and resting on my shiyah, and I will stay awake for hours at a time, counting the seconds between his slow steady breaths, each being six or seven seconds at a time. He was my droog, my bratty…

It was a rainy Sunday morning, that same day of the week when Alex and I would go to Sunday Skollywoll together, but today was very different from all the other past Sundays. My parents were gone missing for a straight week now, and the milicents came back to Alex's mesto to have a slovo with his parents. The next thing was such a blur; It was like those creepy-jeepers dreams where you were going very fast yet very slow in the dream, with no control over your body and emotions, and it felt like you were about to die real skorry. Alex held me tightly as I platched, never did he saw another malchick boo-hoo'ing like that, but then he did something I'll never for soon forget…

He gently pulled me away to viddy at me in the glazzies, his rookers on my shivering pletchos, and I thought for a second that he was going to pull me in for another horrorshow hug again… And then it happened; He leaned over, stuck his yahzick out, and licked my tear stained litso. He licked my sodding litso! I viddied at him in shock and he viddied back at me with the most sickening expression I ever saw, he like grinning from ooko to ooko and everything! I of course pushed him away and ran off, running Bog knows where, but I did remember falling asleep in one of those long, uncomfortable seats in the same churchie that we used to frequent in back when my parents were alive, and well…

"What's it going to be then, Georgie-boy?"

I snap back to reality, and I viddied back at Alex, who still had that same look like that moment we had years ago after he licked my litso, and I shivered. I suppose the only I'll ever find out why Alex did what he did all those years ago was to ask the veck what in the world gone through his gulliver when he did that. Dim leaned over to stare after this sturdy veck now getting up and walking off to get out of the Milkbar, and I decided what to do with the evening.

"We follow that veck and do a dirty twenty-to-one, right right right?" I suggest with half shrug, rubbing my army boot with the other to make some delightful squeaking noises.

"Right," Pete announces in the corner.

"Right," Dim guffed, his heavy chest heaving up and down. Alex sneers at him before nodding at nobody in particular.

"Right!"

O, another nochy with the same clockwork cal.

We all ittied out of the Korova Milkbar and we entered ourselves into the cold, blistering world of the dead still Winter. It's nochy out and our shaika platties didn't serve us enough warmth to keep us feeling very horrorshow, but we thrust on to follow the veck that we saw a few minootas back. The mesto we all traveled in is in a pure mess, garbage bags flying everywhere near the streets, beggars out and about either singing or asking for some cutter, and the very few devotchkas who looked about twenty-something but might have been their make-up, that made their otherwise nadsat litsos appear older, were all pyahnitsa and walked around making shoom about some boy banda or some cal. Deep shame vibrates throughout my guttiwuts, for I know what is like to viddy this place every single day and every single nochy, living out in the streets with no mommy and no daddy to fix you up some soup or to watch late night Cowboy sinnies with them. Yes, I live in the streets and I would usually stay with Pete or Dim, Dim especially since he lives in this crappy 6 story high apartment, but I try to stay out of his mesto to sleep in a random park bench or picnic table, wrapped up nice and warm in some gazettas. You may ask if I have ever stayed in Alex's mesto, and the answer is of course no; After what happened when my parents snuffed, Alex and I rarely hung out, as I have avoided him and stayed either in the local church (Those churchies love to help the homeless and whatnot.), or stayed with them foster parents, which were never long-term, considering how rebellious I was and still am. Slowly, though, after many months, Alex and I started to regularly see each other again, but the tension drove a wedge between us, and we soon met Dim and Pete, and together we became a larger shaika.

We lost the veck from the Milkbar, and so we decide to travel towards Marghanita Boulevard and then turned into Boothby Avenue, where we quickly found a brand new victim to like tolchock and steal pretty polly from. He had these glasses on resting away from his glazzies, and had marvelous books under his arm, and he appeared to be one of them schoolmaster teachers that I have always hated to be around, growing up. I was homeschooled in this one foster home, the government like forced me to, due to my horrible situation, and I had to listen to the schoolmaster types rambling on and on about the British literature and mathematics.

We all catch up with the veck and Alex pipes up in an eager golloss, "Pardon me, brother."

He viddied at us all with this poogly expression, and it hit me a malenky hard in my guttiwuts, to skazat the least. I would hate to bothered like this late into the nochy too, if I were to be in his shoes.

Never the less, he immediately answered back to Alex in this uppity schoolmaster goloss, "Yes, what is it?"

"I see you have books under your arm, brother. It is indeed a rare pleasure these days to come across somebody that still reads, brother." Alex and us tree are now surrounding this poor veck, all like smiling like a bunch of bolnoy children. He was shaking a malenky bit now, going all "Oh, oh!" in a nervous manner as he turns his gulliver all around to watch us, and now I can only wish we could stop this nonsense and let him go…

I'm a plenny under Alex's rule, and it angers me beyond words.

In that moment, I seem to have dazed off and continue to think about what happened between Alex and I. After that litso incident, he and I would spend most of our time together in awkward silence. There would be days where we would visit the local pub, pretending to be much older than we are, and the bar keeper would give us some alcohol to soothe us (Ben was his name, and how he loved us so.) the trouble of having to hide away from the milicents' glazzies whenever they found our victims. It was a breezy Spring afternoon and we were both wearing our shaika platties, white button down shirts with the trademark white pants, and of course the comebat boots to seal it off. We have only started to dress like the creatures of the nochy, so our platties weren't much, and even as bare as it appeared, it served something useful; People just saw us as just a couple of vecks wearing outrageous platties for attention rather out of street tradition. To them, we weren't baddiwad people, just kids in white.

"So, are you going to stay angry at me, dear droog?" Alex asked, sipping his drink and wincing at the burn of the alcohol. I smirked.

"As long as you keep that slippery pink monster in your rot, I suppose I could forgive you. Maybe."

Alex suddenly leaned over and poke his yahzick out at me, just about a few inches more and he would sure have it touch my litso again. I leaned back a malenky bit, and he smirked at me.

We never really brought it up again. We had a pseudo appypolly loggy cal but I was still somewhat bezoomy at him for what he did. It was like he took my parents' death as a joke rather than something he ought of comfort me about. I always had to keep my rookers to myself or else they would end up around his shiyah, and that can't be good.

My daydreaming was interrupted by seeing Pete making a fast one and taking the schoolmaster's books from underneath his arm, and he tosses the three books at us; one for me, one for Alex, and the last one for himself. I look down in utter magnificence at the leather bounded book, the Roman curve of the lettering that titles the book as "The Miracle Of The Snowflake", and my heart skipped a beat as I open the book to read what's inside.

I'm a fan of books, you viddy!

"Excellent, really, first class."

I turn my gulliver at Alex as he spoke, roughly turning the pages of his own book and being all high and mighty over this school veck. Then with a fake gasp, he starts to taunt and going all tut-tut-tut at our victim, explaining all the filthy slovos he found in the book. I viddied back down in my book and I realize that this book, too, contained such filth as well. I smirk. Despite everything, Alex is a sharp kid, never once missing a beat.

"Now here's what I call real dirt," I said, making Alex and the other dva smeck, "There's one with the letter f at the beginning, and a c on the other."

Dim being dim as he is, peers over Pete to read into his book, and starts going on about what is happening to some devotchka in Pete's book ("There's even a picture of it!") and I roll my glazzies. I curl my rooker over the pages and start ripping them out, this peaking Alex's interest to what I was doing and starts to do the same, still mocking the other veck. Soon, Pete and Dim played a tug-o-war with their book, and I guff a malenky bit as we toss the pieces of paper up into the black skies, the sharp contrast of the white paper against the noir atmosphere giving the scene an almost magical touch to it.

"But that's not mine!" The veck croaks out, his rookers flying around trying to grab a hold of all of the pieces, the poor sod, going on about those are the property of the "municipality", "sheer wantonness" and "vandal work," and other cal. He tries to wrestle the books out of our hands, but it only granted him his death wish.

"You ought to be taught a lesson, brother." Alex growls, grabbing hold of his skull cane and nods at us. Pete grabbed a hold of the veck's rookers as I came from behind the schoolmaster to dig my two fingers from both rookers to keep his rot wide open, Dim trying to yank off his false zoobies, both upper and lower. The veck starts to make all these disgusting noises with his rot-"Blarrgh rawrgh blarrrgh!"-and so I let go of his goobers to tolchock it real horroshow instead. Kroovy like came rushing out, and my glazzies darts straight to Alex, his expression being a mixture of both pleasure and wonder, and I shake my gulliver at the nonsense of it all. The veck limps away, going all boo-hoo-hoo'ing, and my other tree droogies start to mess about with his remaining books and letters, Dim especially having a lot of fun with this. We managed to get out some cutter from our victim this time, not too much but then we had plenty of pretty polly in our pockets already so it did not sadden us dearly.

"To the Duke Of New York, lads?" Alex asks, and we all like nod in agreement before we ittied off to our next destination.

"In Dublin's fair city
Where the girls are so pretty
I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone
As she wheeled her wheelbarrow
Through streets wide and narrow...

Crying cockless and mussels alive,
Alive O...
Alive, alive O... Alive, alive O...
Crying cockless and mussels alive,
Alive O..."

Oh, Bog.

My droogs and I have come across this starry man singing his wasteful life away, his back being like lying over the cement wall of this southern underpass of this large bridge, and he just kept singing on and on as if his dear life depended on it. Which, now that I think of it, he should do just that.

The starry man appeared to be around in his 50s or so, scratchy chin and all, and was as filthy as his goloss as he keeps singing out and burping in between the lyrics, real nasty.

Alex viddied back at us and starts clapping his rookers together, arousing us to follow his lead and clap along with him, having a loud smeck out of it all.

"C… Can you spare some cutter, me brothers?" He asks in a weakly weakly whimper.

We all guff loudly at that before Alex steps into his space to dig his cane into his brooko. He immediately looked spoogy, but then he quickly got over it before he croaks out,

"Go on! Do me in, you bastard cowards! I don't want to live anyway, not in a stinky world like this!"

"Oooh?" Alex says in a mocking manner, "And what's so stinking about it?"

"It's a stinking world because there's no law and order anymore!" He horned out, making us smeck harder, "It's a stinking world because it lets the young get onto the old like you done! It's no world for an old man any more! What sort of a world is it at all? Men on the moon? And men spinning around the earth and there's not no attention paid to earthly law and order no more!"

Finally he gave us a malenky bit of lip music-Prrzzt-before he starts to sing yet again.

"Oh dear land, I fought for thee and brought you peace and victory!"

The next thing I knew Alex swings his cane and started to clop him down, Pete rushing ahead of me to join in the fun while Dim was swinging his rookers at the veck's gulliver. I waste no time and step in with my base ball bat raised over my head, beating the poor ol' beggar senseless, trying to forget about my own problems, if only for just a few moments.

We arrive at the rundown Derelict Casino where we find our arch nemesis Billy boy and his crew ripping off the platties off a boo-hoo'ing ptitsa, all of them grabbing onto her breasts and hips and legs, anything to keep her from running off. They were having a grand ol' time up on the abandoned stage, and I viddied at Alex in the corner of my glazz, him smirking and looking somewhat excited over this disgusting scene. I shudder.

We come out of the shadows, Alex kicking a glass bottle to, of course, make a scene.

"Ho ho ho! Well, if it isn't fat, stinking Billygoat Billyboy in poison! How are thou, thou globby bottle of cheap stinking chip oil?"

At that moment I study the expressions coming from our arch nemesis, and he viddied at Alex as if he was trying to hide his hurt from Alex's sharp slovos, him grinning and chewing on something, and I felt so sorry for the poor veck. Alex can be either the most charming chelloveck or your worst nightmare when it came to verbal sparring.

"Come and get one in the yarbles, if you have any yarbles, you eunuch jelly thou!" Alex finally finishes, and we all hear Billy spitting something out of his rot and sneers at us with his pocket knife out.

"Let's get em', boys!" He announces, the rest of his rowdy shaika howling and coming down at us.

I got my bat ready and in a few seconds we all started a nasty drat together, throwing each other out and breaking bottles at our enemies litsos. Punches, kicks, and flying objects created a loud booming noise, and my heart beat way faster than I could handle, but it was a lovely thing to experience, you viddy. It's the kind of excitement where you don't know whether you were to live or to die, but either way, you didn't cared, for the adrenaline that came rushing in throughout your veins was enough for you to care about that and nothing else.

We all finally had our enemies down on the floor while we clopped them down with our respective weapons, and I had a bit of a time of my life clubbing on my victim, when suddenly I hear a sharp whistle. I turn to see Alex continue to whistle to stop poor ol' Dim to take control of his violent outburst and for Pete to do as well. We all stop and Alex frantically yells, "The police! Come on, let's go, come on!"

We all rush out into the cold Winter nochy again, and we all hoped into the Durango-95 car that belonged to who-fucking-cares, and Alex took the wheel while Pete sat next to him. Dim and I took the backseat of the car and I sat upward and leaned over, to take in the beautiful night air that lashed over my pale litso and curved goobers.

Alex starts the car and swerves violently out of the casino's parking lot, and we drove rather very fast into the street, and we all start to scream and howl into the sky. Alex quickly drove us to the country side where the street had no lights but our car's headlights provided just enough for us to viddy all the poor chellovecks that have to like jump out of our way as Alex drives full speed ahead. We even almost like crashed into a couple of cars, thankfully they all drove off the road before we collided into them. I smeck and howl, Dim screaming obscenities as we pass by our frightened victims ("Ye bastards!"), and Pete howling away real loudly as well.

We all viddied at our left to find a domy still lit far into the distant and we knew we had to take the next exit to go there, to have ourselves a malenky ultra-violence to end this nochy real horrorshow.

"Turn left, Alex!" Dim howls out, and Alex turns West.

The first thing I see is a sign with the slovo "HOME" being like lit up in the countryside darkness. Alex stops the car just near the gate before we all climb out to sneak through the gates, Dim guffing and Alex shushing him. Pete and I viddied each other before shaking our gullivers.

We sneak into the front garden, there being a small man-made lake and a small bridge that crosses over to the front door of the domy, and we end up to the front door before Alex turns around to face us.

"I'll tell them that one of you are out bleeding to death in the middle of the road and they'll have to open the chellovecks will hide behind that bush," he points to this tall bush that sits about a few feet away from the door, "And after the person opens the door, you all quickly come out of the bush and follow me into the domy, right right?"

"Right!" Dim, Pete and I said in union before we all ittied off behind the tall bush, me being right behind it and Dim leaning over my shoulder to viddy Alex ringing the doorbell. Pete nervously viddied around him to see if anyone else is out here.

I slit my glazzies as the door opens and I could viddy upon an attractive redhead, and then I slooshy Alex begin to speak in an urgent goloss.

"Excuse me, misses! Will you please help, there's been a terrible accident! My friend's lying in the middle of the road, bleeding to death. Could I please use your telephone to call an ambulance?"

"I'm sorry," I slooshy the redhead says, "But we don't have a telephone, you'll have to go somewhere else." She tries to close the door but Alex quickly sets his boot in between to stop her from closing it.

"But misses! It's a matter of life and death!"

She viddies at Alex with wide glazzies, and I turn towards my other dva droogs, gripping onto my base ball bat to unverbally tell them to get their weapons ready to attack. They do so, their litsos scrunched up in anger, ready for the good drat.

But then she calls out to another person inside her domy, and I turn my gulliver towards the scene again.

"There's a young man here, he says there's been an accident, he wants to use the telephone!"

I wait for a moment before she mutters something to Alex, and Alex beams with a thank you. She gently closes the door and in that second, Alex turns around to face us. We all quickly came out from the bush to head towards him, putting on our maskies as well as he did. We all did this in a very fast fashion, because before I knew it, the door opens again.

Alex backs up a little when she did, and I heard her say, "I'm sorry, but we don't usually let strangers in at nigh—"

Right there, we all burst into the mesto, Alex holding on to her and the rest of us rushing in and howling like a bunch of wolves. We run into the living room, this spacious and great living room you see, and Alex lets the cheena go only for Dim to grab hold of her next, and I jump into this black sofa that sits below the higher level of the room. I viddy from the corner of my glazz to see Alex kicking this elderly man in the litso, and I quickly jumped right on top of him as soon as he hits the floor, Dim swinging around and guffing like a fat clown with the redhead, and Pete jumping on this long black love seat at the back of the room. I hold the man down and use this small taser to electrocute the man, just to weaken the poor sap into better submission.

That's when Alex starts to whistle sharply to get our attention.

"Right, Pete, check the rest of the house!" Alex orders, making Pete jump down from the love seat to rush into the kitchen, and our leader turns to Dim, "Dim!"

Dim walks to the other side of the room, going all doo-doo-dodo-doo-do while he does so, and I could viddy Alex dancing like an idiot before he starts to sing.

"I'm singing in the rain!" He kicks the old man that I'm holding down just in time with the song, "Just singing in the rain," he cracks his cane at the screaming redhead, "What a golorious feelin'," he bends down to place his cane in between Dim's legs so that he can hold on to it, "and I'm happy again!"

He puts this small red gagball in the equally colored-haired vixen's rot, before he continues the little dancing and ripping open some sellotape, "I'm laughing at the clouds, sooo dark up above!"

He wraps the tape around the cheena's gulliver to cover up her rot so the ball will stay in, and he continues with the song, "The sun's in my heart, and I'm ready for love," he then violently slaps her face, making her moan in pain. I wince a little, almost feeling the burn of the slap.

"Let the stormy clouds chase," he kicks the male victim in the guttiwuts again, "… everyone from the place," he kicks him twice again, before he bends down on one knee ("Come on with the rain, I've smile on my face!") and hands me another piece of sellotape, and I watch as he places a ball into the man's rot, making me place the tape right over it so that he won't spit it out.

Alex walks around me and he continues on singing, "I'll walk down the lane," he jumps on top of this table that had a typewriter, "... to a happy refrain!" he then begins kicking all the stuff out with his boot, having a blast with it all. He then jumps down from it again so that he can tip the whole table over with his rookers, "And I'm singing," he knocks down this entire bookshelf, "Just singing! Iiiin the rain!"

He walks over to where Dim is, who's guffing like a right clown, doing that whole doope-dodo-do cal and Dim holds the cheena to stand in front of Alex. Our leader and droog then reaches over her left buxom and like pulled the frabic of her jumpsuit, so that he'll cut it off with a pair of scissors, and he continues on with the song, and I realize where that gloopy song came from; It was Gene Kelly, and he sung that song from the sinny none other than the sinny with the same title as the song, of course. I never really watched that film, but from the looks of things, Alex is sure of a big fan of his work. Oh, Alex!

He continues on with the cutting and the shing-shing-shing of the scissor making sounds, and before I know it, the redhead is completely nude in front of all of us, and I can viddy her helpless expression before Alex jumps down in front of me and our victim, poor starry veck, ending the song with the chilling slovos, "Viddy well, little brother, viddy well!"

The nochy ends with us doing the good ol' in-out-in-out on the redhead, my droogs' haunting laughter like echoing in my gulliver throughout the rest of tonight.

END OF PART ONE