Disclaimer: Powerful punches aimed at someone's temple can rattle their brain and cause permanent damage: don't go knocking out people for funzies.

So yeah, more fighting :3

Chapter 18: Slipping into Madness

Incredibly few people in Bullworth were "nice". Almost everyone had a mean streak somewhere and whether it was physical or emotional, nearly every soul in that town had a soft spot for violence. This also held true to the greasers. Beating up other kids for money or just for the giggles, harassing girls, destroying public property – none of these activities were beyond the moody young men in leather jackets. Neither was cheering and whistling wildly when two of their friends, almost brothers, where beating the living crap out of each other. This time, it was a fight between two able, consenting parties, so they had a passable excuse.

As the voices of the greasers and the townies pounded against his eardrums and Johnny pounded against his defenses with a mad flurry of punches, Larry was experiencing sensory overload. He desperately tried to keep his distance while dodging attacks right and left, but there was no way to avoid all of them. Furthermore, landing an attack of his own was near impossible: both boys knew that if Johnny managed to grapple Larry and push him in the ground, it was all over. As things were now, Johnny was waiting for an opportunity to do just that so he tried to egg Larry into doing something careless.

Even in the dire situation he was in, Larry tried to soothe his mind and think of something, fast. Was there anything super dramatic he could say to make Johnny drop his guard, like in the movies? Wasn't there any kind of miracle knockout punch he could try? What on earth could he do? Johnny just kept attacking, and although very few of his hits were clean, his punches and kicks hurt nevertheless and did away with the ex-greaser's remaining energy rather quickly. He was in serious trouble if he couldn't pull away, but for now, all he could do was to withstand it.

Suddenly, the opportunity to strike back presented itself. Johnny grunted as he took another spurt towards Larry and tried to hammer a punch from the side, straight into the guy's temple. But, his target lifted his arm up, taking the edge off the hit with his wrist as he backed off with a hop. Johnny faltered forwards just a bit as he did that, so there it clicked: Larry let himself loose, risking defeat with a jab at Johnny's chin. The taller boy pulled himself backwards, which is when Larry punched him in the gut. As he doubled over slightly, he huffed to keep the pain away and reached his hand towards the other boy's collar, but his victim was already too far.

Even in its enraged frenzy, Johnny's mind was able to register that this was a sight to behold. Larry must have been tempted to stick around and land a couple more hits on the expense of his stupor, but he hadn't done that. He knew of Johnny's intentions. Sharing a sober moment, the two battlers stood in the wind quietly, catching their breaths for a while. Both were trying to reach some sort of epiphany before the other, all while the crowd around them berated them for not doing anything.

Analyzing what he had seen so far, Johnny did understand something: unlike he, who had to get rid of chains and harnesses before functioning, Larry thrived in restraint. He had proved himself to be a bit difficult as an opponent, but not for the same reasons as, say, Jimmy Hopkins who had insane moves, speed, and stamina: it was closer to what made some of the preppies difficult. Preppies polished and refined their boxing moves until they were so sterile and precise it was no longer natural. As Johnny looked at Larry, his limbs retracted close to his body, which was partially sideways to expose as little of it to Johnny as possible, and his breaths almost premeditated and micromanaged, he saw some of that. Only, it wasn't refined or sterile – he was struggling.

Johnny grinned as he lunged towards Larry again, forcing the boy's self-defense system into action. As Larry pulled back his head and torso to dodge a punch, Johnny's momentum migrated to his feet. His movement changed fluidly from a punch to a kick which connected with the other boy's side. Larry winced as he stumbled sideways, but, in a fraction of a second, he also noted that Johnny's stance was flimsy and he was still reeling his other leg back. While still trying to find his own balance, he let himself tip forward and he threw a punch of his own. It was clumsy as hell, but it worked: it hit Johnny's cheek bone with a dull smack sounding in both of the boys' ears through the cheering. One hell of a lucky punch.

Larry inhaled sharply as his mind caught on and realized he was in the danger zone with his guard lowered again. This time Johnny's hands weren't reaching for him as he scrambled backwards, however. The greaser king shook his head and took a moment to rub his injured cheek, glaring at his old friend while the townies called him names from the sidelines. He was starting to look scary even to Larry, who had seen some of his worst moments. It was made all the more frightening by the fact that the ex-greaser was running on fumes.

Johnny was, indeed, severely annoyed. Larry was like a guard dog on a leash: not seeming to be much of a danger until you realize you've miscalculated the length of the tether. Johnny had done that three times already and he had had quite enough. No more big flashy moves and no more breaks, he decided. It was time for the endgame. When he went on the offense with his eyes burning, he slammed against Larry's defenses with the full intention to bring him down.

Larry's effort was valiant, but it was clear that he was at the end of his rope as Johnny just kept coming at him, filling the gap between them with fierce jabs. Larry deterred a sudden grab attempt with a chop, but it had been way too close to succeeding. Then, suddenly, he felt something hard driven against his temple with force that threatened to cause a familiar white flash to take over his eyes as he fell down. Johnny had succeeded in landing his fist into where it hurt – it was Larry's luck that it hadn't been any harder than it already was.

Aww, shit, Larry's mind echoed as his ears buzzed.

Johnny hollered victoriously as he realized he had just taken down his opponent. Without wasting time, he stomped his head and rubbed his shoe against the side of his old friend's head where he had drawn blood just a moment ago.

"Hey, whoa! That's enough, boss! That's enough!" Norton yelled, but Johnny didn't register it as he prepared for his finishing blow. Looking at its possible long-term effects, this wasn't perhaps such a great way to get rid of all that frustration and hate coursing through his system, but it was too late to do anything about it. Johnny's mind became deceptively clear and focused when he was angry: every problem he had seemed to have an easy remedy which he could distribute with his fists.

Larry grunted in pain as he was jerked up from his resting place on the snow. He didn't quite realize what was happening and he half expected it was one of the dropouts picking him up. It wasn't. As he started to hear sounds and actually tell them apart, he thought he recognized some very agitated disagreeing and someone saying "Somebody stop him!" Then, as he became more aware of his surroundings, he learned that he was being dragged from the collar of his dully orange winter jacket by Johnny.

What for, though? Was he still going to pound him? Or maybe hold him up for everyone to see how he had been beaten? Or – oh god no. No, no, no, no, NO. Larry realized his peril and started to flounder about, rather pathetically. He tried to plant his limbs into the ground so he could at least delay him to give time for the help he assumed he was going to get from the audience. It was for naught, though: judging from the darkness that had surrounded him, he was already away from the spotlight of the chem plant roof.

"There you go, my old friend, have a nice slide!" Johnny snarled as he pushed Larry forward, towards the slippery slope ahead. As the defeated boy felt the ground tilt below him, he yelped in terror and grabbed the closest thing that his flailing hands managed to find: Johnny's leg.

Oops.

Author's Notes: Did you see it coming?