Chapter Text
“All right now boppers, every story has to have a beginning. That beginning will then lead to an end... Here's the start of a story about the past and how Swan will deal with his.“
———
Dreary. That was the only word that could describe it. It referring to the weather-- or his mood. It wasn't light enough outside to be sunny, but it wasn't dark enough to just be dark either. It was just... dull. The same could be said about Swan.
He wasn't usually one to wallow in his self-deprecating thoughts, but on the occasion that he did it was a drab experience. It was at these times that made him rethink choices he's made thus far in life. Back to when he had decided in the first place to join a gang rather than try and lead an average, law-abiding life. Why he continued on the same path even after everything that he'd been through. Why he decided to allow himself so close to people that might leave the moment it became too much.
It was a choice he'd made because he knew he couldn't handle a normal life. He couldn't handle leaving the thing he knew better than anything else. He couldn't handle leaving those he'd finally been able to trust.
The gentle lapping of waves on the sandy shore of the beach lulled Swan out of his musing. He looked up at the rippling ocean, water going out as far as he could see... and even further than that. Frowning, he dug the blade of the knife he held into the sand, his hands stilling as he simply just stared out ahead.
A voice rang out, cutting through the static noise of the ocean. ”Ya know it's always easy to tell when you're in a crap mood, right?“ Swan glanced back, noting the lone figure standing behind him.
He simply shrugged, it was true and there wasn't any fighting it after all. Swan began to stand up, sparing one last look at the water in front of him before pulling his knife from the sand, tucking it into his belt, and turning to face his new companion.
Cowboy stood in front of him, hands tucked into his pockets and a frown to rival Swan's on his face. His Stetson was on as usual and he himself was glancing uneasily between Swan and the ocean.
At the realization that he wasn't going to say anything, Cowboy half-smiled and said “Hey man, don't go sayin' everything all at once-- I can hardly keep track of it all.”
At last, Swan reacted, shaking his head and taking a step towards his friend. “It's just going to be one of those days.” He said simply, walking past Cowboy and to the boardwalk. His Stetson-clad companion looked slightly worried at the admission, but otherwise unbothered; it wasn't his first rodeo after all.
The two of them began to go down the boardwalk back towards the warehouse the Warriors claimed as their base. Swan had begun to think of it as a second home; everybody he knew and cared about was there more often than not and he himself was there more than he was his own home. Though he wasn't even sure he could consider the shitty apartment he paid rent for and slept in every once in a while to be 'home.'
Amidst the sound of their footsteps and on the wooden surface and Swan's own thoughts, Cowboy began to speak. “Cleon wants to talk to you.” Swan raised an eyebrow in response. “Nothing bad I think-- it's just about...” he trailed off, “you know you can talk to me about anything right? You're welcome at my place anytime and- just- I'll listen, okay?”
“Okay, I'll find him when we get back.” Swan replied plainly. Cowboy nodded, looking distantly upset at the lack of response to the latter part of what he'd said, but content that he'd at least gotten something.
They continued in silence for a few more minutes, the sound of conversations increasing in volume as they got closer to the residential area nearest to the warehouse.
Cowboy then turned to him, “Have ya heard anything about the Gladiators lately? I remember Fox an' Snow went to go and check 'em out a few weeks ago and I haven't heard anything since then.”
The Gladiators had been awfully silent recently, considerably silent compared to the fuss they'd been kicking up with the Satan's Mothers regarding stolen shipments, trespassing boundaries, and whatnot. Normally the Warriors would've stayed out of it-- them being a smaller clique would've warranted an ass beating if they'd tried to involve themselves in any way with two much larger and much more well known gangs. And it would've stayed that way if it weren't for both gangs bringing their war onto Warriors turf.
Cleon eventually had enough of the constant wasting of other gangs on their territory and sent a few members out to each gang to get them to handle it themselves on their own turf. Since then, both ends had been quiet, seemingly having resolved the entire issue.
“Ricimer's got them on a tighter leash now. Doesn't want to have any more of his men getting wrecked.” Swan didn't know the Gladiators' Warlord very well. He'd seen him around before, but hadn't had an actual conversation with the man. From what he had seen though, he was fairly honorable compared to most other gangs he knew.
“Huh, makes enough sense.” Cowboy shrugged, “Never did get how he just lets all his soldiers run 'round and do all the shit they do-- he's a good man, they ain't though.” Swan had to agree, the other Gladiators mostly went around their neighborhood and other and started shit with anyone who'd also get involved.
The amount of activity around them grew as they approached their neighborhood, people standing outside their apartments talking or milling about in front of the stores. Swan noticed a few Warriors walking about, on patrol most likely. While walked past, some of them acknowledged him and Cowboy, the latter tipping his hat to those who said their hellos.
His gaze lingered on the last soldier he'd said hi to before moving to look at Swan, a thoughful expression on his face. “Have you and Cleon heard about any more new bloods wantin' to join? I've noticed it's been a pretty dry pool lately... hopin' they aren't optin' to join the Destroyers.”
Swan couldn't help but concur. They'd both had their start in the Destroyers-- they'd joined together after all-- but it soon became abundantly clear that Virgil wasn't cut out to be a leader and that if they stayed under his rule any longer it might just lead to their deaths. The only good thing that had come out that entire experience was Swan meeting Cleon.
He'd never explicitly expressed it before, but Swan respected his Warlord on another level. When first joining, Cleon was the first person he'd connected with. He truly looked up to him more than anyone else. That's why it had hurt so much when he and Cowboy left. Leaving Cleon and Vermin to potentially die was a hard decision, but in the end he worried for his and Cowboy's safety over everything else.
Seeing Cleon after such a long time; alive, well, and the leader of his own gang was a nice experience. Getting asked to join said gang was even better, he knew that this would be the one that he could stick with.
“They'd be bringing about their own deaths if they are” Swan responded. After thinking for a moment about his recent conversations with their Warlord he then said, “No. You're right, there hasn't been anyone asking around about wanting to join.”
They stopped in front of stairs leading up to the second floor of the warehouse. “Hm...” Cowboy turned to Swan, “I hope they'll start showin' up soon, we ain't gonna make it all-city with as few members as we've got right now...”
“We'll be known soon enough. Cleon's going to be the one to get us on top.” Swan started up the steps, looking back down at Cowboy to emphasize the last sentence.
“Yeah... yeah, he will. If anyone's gonna do it it'll be him.” Cowboy nods, coming up behind him as they make it to the top.
Swan pushed the doors open, immediately greeted by the sound of the radio on full volume, Ajax once again yelling at their pinball machine, and the general noisiness of their hangout. Ignoring all of it however, he locks eyes with Cleon sitting across the room on one of the couches. Swan mumbles a quick goodbye to Cowboy before going over to the Warlord.
“Swan.” Cleon greeted as he stood up. Swan returned the greeting, crossing his arms in wait for whatever the leader was wanting to speak with him about. “I assume Cowboy's already told you then?”
“Yeah.” The Warlord's eyes narrowed at the short reply. Swan wasn't known for being a great conversationalist, but he was better than one word answers and prolonged silence. Cleon's suspicions were just further confirmed.
He surveyed the room for a moment, it was relatively loud so the likelihood of anyone unintentionally listening into the conversation was low.
“Man, you know you've got to pull yourself together. You can't keep shuttin' down like this-- how are we goin' to work with a soldier who ain't gonna say shit if something's going wrong, huh?” Cleon began, a fiery look in his eyes.
Swan's attention snapped back onto him immediately, “I know when to put my personal issues aside when it comes to working with others.”
“Yeah? Well if you keep actin' the way you are I don't know if I can believe that. You've gotta talk man, I can't let you out there if you ain't gonna talk. Repressing all that shit you got going on is just making you one big liability.”
“With all due respect Warlord, I'm not going to be a liability. I'll talk if I need to, but it ain't affecting anything, so I don't have to. Not now.”
Cleon took a step towards him, “Don't start lipping off now, Swan. I'll shut you down before you can get another word out if this is how you're going to act.” The two stared at each other for a few moments until Swan looked away, surrending their silent battle. Looking pleased, Cleon then said “take Cowboy up to Red Hook, I sent Vermin up there a few hours ago to speak to the Shooters' Warlord and he ain't been back yet. Go see what the hold up is-- I'm trying to see if we can get an alliance going with 'em. They're a pretty solid outfit from what I've heard.”
“Okay.” Swan knew this was some kind of test Cleon had planned. He couldn't fuck this up if he wanted to prove that he could still function as a member of the Warriors. He didn't need any goddamn help to deal with his issues.
“See to it, soldier.” Cleon pat him on the back and started towards Ajax who had yet to cease yelling. “Hey! Cut it Ajax, you're gonna break the damn thing if ya keep hittin' it like that!”
Swan let his gaze linger a little longer on the retreating form of Cleon before going to look for Cowboy. After seeing that he wasn't upstairs anymore, he headed down the stairs towards their makeshift gym.
He knew he shouldn't have gotten hot with Cleon, but it wasn't the leader's right to decide whether or not he needed to say anything about his problems. They were his for a reason; his burden to bear and his dilemma to figure out. Still though, he'd stepped out of line. Swan resolved that he'd make an apology once they returned.
Upon reaching the bottom he found Cowboy and Snow speaking together as Snow hit the punching bag, the former holding it. The heavy muscle noticed Swan and stopped talking, Cowboy turning around to see what had made him quit to abruptly.
Noticing Swan and his blank face, Cowboy glanced back at Snow before stepping towards his friend. “Somethin' happen?”
Swan's eyes quickly flitted towards Snow before returning to Cowboy. “We're going to Red Hook.” He said.
“Oh... yeah, you got it. Uh, talk to you later man, see you 'round.” He tipped his Stetson and headed towards the door, Swan nodded quickly at Snow before following after Cowboy.
He pretended not to notice Cowboy's many, not so subtle looks at him as they set out for the subway. Eventually he finally said something.
“Did something happen? You're even quieter than normal, man.” Cowboy grimaced, “did Cleon tell you something bad? I swear I thought it wasn't gonna be somethin' bad I'm sorry.”
Swan stopped walking, “it wasn't bad. He set me straight.” Cowboy also stopped, looking back at him with a confused expression that slowly melted into one of realization.
“Shit. He's figured it out too? Damn he's probably got ya in the hot seat now- that's why you're the one going on this-- that's why I'm here! Aw fuck he wants you to talk...” Cowboy furrowed his eyebrows and put a hand on Swan's shoulder, “oh man ya know you don't gotta if you don't wanna.”
“He's right. I do have to talk, I just can't.” Swan stated, opening his mouth to add more but stopping as he noticed something further down the street.
The two watched silently as a police officer on patrol made his way toward them, eyes following their every movement. “Let's get to the subway,” Swan mumbled to Cowboy, hand ghosting over the knife he knew was still tucked into his belt.
Cowboy nodded his agreement and the two warily passed by the officer, hesitant to do anything that'd even warrant him looking at them.
The moment Swan knew they were out of range he began to run towards the station, Cowboy following after. A few minutes later and they were heading through the turnstiles after paying and stepping onto the closest passenger car. Cowboy collapsed on the seat and sighed, “Fuzz's gettin' on my nerves lately, too many of 'em. Can't seem to do anything 'round Coney lately without a cop breathin' down your neck.”
“Crimes been up in Brooklyn since the Mothers and Gladiators started warring. I think the extra patrols everywhere is them trying to intimidate everyone else into cutting down on theft and everything else.” Swan had noticed the increased amount of police since the beginning of those two gang's conflict, they were littered all throughout Brooklyn and it made it increasingly difficult to get anywhere without being stopped to get questioned.
“I think you're right, damn I wish those two would've just minded their own business. The Gladiators don't even take shipments all too often so I don't see why it was such a big fuckin' deal this time around.” Cowboy huffed.
Swan thought so too, the Gladiators main source of income was their protection money, they only stole shipments when they were planning something that required the extra cash. The Satan's Mothers must've had something in that shipment that they wanted and got pissed when it turned up stolen.
He settled on saying, “The Gladiators are known to be territorial, the moment the Mothers stepped on their turf to get back at them for stealing their shit escalated the whole thing. I'm not surprised Ricimer fought back as hard as he did because of the one shipment; he hates when other gangs go through their turf without permission.”
It was really the only reason Cleon hadn't tried to ally with them yet. He didn't want anyone getting wrecked while trying to simply set up a meeting between the two gangs. That and having gotten involved in the whole conflict between them and the Satan's Mothers.
They sat in silence for a few more minutes. That was until Cowboy finally asked, “you were going to say something else when that cop showed up, what was it?”
Swan had nearly forgotten that he'd been interrupted. He wasn't as keen to continue the conversation as Cowboy was. “He wants me to talk. Nothing more to it.”
Cowboy looked skeptical, but didn't press any further. That's what Swan liked about him, what really brought them together to begin with. He'd met Cowboy not too long before joining the Destroyers. It was obvious upon their first meeting that there was something up with Swan, but Cowboy never asked, he understood that it wasn't just something you could say outright and he respected that. They were practically inseparable from then on out.
A beat of silence and then Cowboy spoke again, shifting the subject, “Hey what do you know about the Shooters? That's why were up here. To meet with 'em?”
“Vermin met with them, only problem is he hasn't come back yet Cleon wanted to us to see if there was a problem. He wants to ally with them, but won't if they're causing issues.” Swan explained, “I don't know too much about them though, their Warlord, Bullseye, he mostly just has them watch from the sidelines-- doesn't want to jump in too early and get wasted by a bigger gang. They're relatively clean about business too, pretty sure it's just protection and bodyguard gigs.” That was about as far as his knowledge went, though he was sure he'd met one or two of them in person before.
“They aren't too much bigger than us, right?”
“Don't think so, they are on the Riffs network so they're doing a hell of a lot better.”
“Damn, I hope we can ally with them then, anybody we're with that's on good terms with the Riffs means we'll have a better chance of goin' all-city.” Cowboy sounded hopeful. “Oh, by the way Swan,” that got his attention, they never addressed each other by name when by themselves unless it was about something serious, “are you coming by tonight? I don't think you've been over since the week before last.”
There it was. It was Cowboy's attempt of getting him to talk. They hung out at his place (never Swan's) at least once a week, during those times Swan would occasionally let something slip, explain something, or just reveal anything if he was in the right mood. By asking he knew that Cowboy was trying to get him to say something about whatever was going on.
“Depends how long we're held up in Red Hook.” It wasn't likely they'd be stuck for too long, they were nearly there and it wouldn't take too long to find Vermin, and the ride back would probably only be an hour. It was only around one. There was no way they wouldn't have time.
“Right... tomorrow if we're here late?” Cowboy knew that too. Swan nodded; there wasn't any getting out of it, might as well agree. “Do ya think something happened to Vermin? Knowing him, I'm gonna go ahead and guess he either got too into a conversation or he's gotten into some sorts trouble...”
“He's probably lost track of time. It wouldn't be the first time.”
Cowboy laughed, “Shit man, you're right-- oh remember that time he got held up in Crown Heights cuz he swore that chick was checkin' him out?”
“How could I forget? Never seen a man look so heartbroken at the fact that a woman was trying to talk to her friend.”
They continued to reminisce over similar romantic endeavors most of the other Warriors inevitably failed on for the rest of the ride-- there were surprisingly a lot. When the subway stopped, Cowboy stood up and went to wait for the door to open next to Swan.
They exited and began the search for Vermin.
“You think he's still near their base?” Cowboy asked, surveying the area, trying to find their missing member.
“Better start from the inside and head out-- he shouldn't have gotten too far off track.”
“Let's get this show started then!”
———
Cowboy had been correct in his assumption that Vermin hadn't made it far from the base, it had taken them ten minutes to see that, what neither of them had even considered was that he'd happen to get involved between a scuffle between the Shooters and the Jone's Street Boys.
They watched distantly as the out of place Warrior beat down a JSB with a rotting wood plank he must've found somewhere.
There weren't too many left standing, a few locked into battle with a Shooter or too, so Swan didn't see it fit that he or Cowboy involve themselves in a conflict that they weren't apart of to begin with.
Of course that was until a flash of the black and yellow striped shirt the Jone's Street Boys usually where appeared in the corner of his eye. Unfortunately for Swan he was seconds too late because he suddenly felt cool metal meet his ribs in the form of a crowbar being swung into him.
“Oh shit-- Swan!” Cowboy yelled out as Swan doubled over, feeling a distinct cracking in his ribs. Cowboy turned to the assailant and immediately threw a fist into his face, knocking him over and effectively knocking him out once hitting the pavement.
At Cowboy's outburst, Vermin looked over and noticed the two of them. With one last swing he took down the JSB he was fighting and ran over to them.
“Fuck man, what the shit are you guys doing here? Oh fuck, Swan are you okay?” Vermin stood slightly back, hands up as he tried to figure out what the hell was going on.
“Shit dude-- we're here for you! You ain't been back for awhile and Cleon thought you got fuckin' wasted or somethin'.” Cowboy explained hastily as he kneeled down next to Swan, making sure his friend wasn't going to keel over and die.
“Well I'm fine! Is he-”
“Vermin, shut up, I'm not dead.” Swan grit out, using Cowboy as leverage to stand up.
“Well fuckin' sue me for being concerned,” Vermin grumbled, turning back to Cowboy. “Shit have I really been gone that long? I was about to head back when they showed up and started attacking the Shooters... must've lost track of time...” Swan and Cowboy shared a look with each other, seems they were right.
“What the fuck could you have been doing to be gone so long? I didn't know alliance agreements took six hours to handle. Shit, I don't think Cleon's gonna send you on another one if it takes you this long.” Cowboy joked, elbowing Vermin in the side as he put his other arm around Swan.
“Aw fuck you're probably right, damn me.” Vermin groaned. “Oh yeah, uh- we gotta finish out the agreement with the Shooters, kinda got interrupted before we finalized...” He glanced towards a tall man wearing the typical Red Hook Shooters attire standing over a knocked out Jones Street Boy; helping up another member of the Shooters, Swan figured he must be the Warlord.
The Warlord then walked over to the three, the Shooter he helped up trailing behind him. He looked warily at Swan and Cowboy, lingering on their vests, before turning back to Vermin.
“I believe everything is in order then, yes?”
Vermin nodded fervently, “Yeah, thanks a lot Bullseye-- man you're a great guy- I mean you've- you've got a great clique goin' on here! The Warriors thank you for your willingness to ally with us.”
Bullseye smiled slightly, amused at his excitement, “Perfect, tell Cleon he has an ally in the Red Hook Shooters now. I look forward to working with you in the future-- Hendrik, go round up the rest of the men, we need to clean up this mess.” The man next to Bullseye said 'Yes Warlord' and went on his way. Bullseye looked back to the three Warriors, “Until next time.” And he turned to follow.
“Sweet-- Cleon's gonna be pumped when he hears the news.” Vermin cheered.
Cowboy grinned. “Hell yeah! All-city here we come, look out cuz we're the fuckin' Warriors!”
“Let's get back to Coney.” Swan said, cutting off the festivities as he took a step back towards the subway station, he winced at pain the movement caused but kept going.
“Wait-- hold up Swan, you got hit pretty hard back there, you good?” Cowboy asked hesitantly, grimacing as he noticed the careful way Swan was walking.
Vermin's expression mirrored Cowboy's as he said, “Yeah man that looked pretty rough, you sure you don't want to get that checked out first..?”
Swan looked back. “I'm fine. We're gonna miss the fucking train if we stay here any longer.” He continued on, barely listening to the quiet protests from his companions as he went back from where they'd came from not too long prior.
What he didn't see was the worried look the two behind him shared.
———
Something was off. Swan could tell that much. Whether it be the jerking movements of the subway jostling his probably cracked ribs or the general unwellness he'd been feeling all day-- something was wrong.
Vermin and Cowboy had been talking with each other since sitting down for the near hour long ride back to Coney. He didn't know what they were speaking about, everything was coming to him in fragments, the sounds around him fading in and out at random.
It became too much. The subway came to a sudden stop and Swan's vision whited out. He felt sick. He stood up suddenly, surprising both Vermin and Cowboy who looked up at the movement.
He faintly heard “Swan? You okay, dude?” as he near stumbled through the open doors, pushing someone out of his way to reach the closest trashcan and empty his stomach.
It was surprising there was anything at all considering he hadn't had anything to eat the whole day.
The simple act of breathing at the moment was rough. Swan shut his eyes, trying to shut out the overwhelming sights and sounds around him as he tried to reorient himself.
Then, Cowboy was beside him, “Shit... you should've said something man...” He mumbled quietly, a hand on his back.
Swan stayed quiet for a few moments. Eventually he grit out, “I'm fine.”
And that's what it all really boiled down to didn't it? He wasn't fine and he wouldn't admit it. Cleon was right, Cowboy was right, he was-- Swan wasn't alright. He wasn't alright and if he were to just admit it, maybe he would be... eventually at least.
When he opened his eyes Cowboy wasn't next to him anymore. He stood by Vermin who was near the exit of whichever subway station they'd ended up at. The expression his friend held was one Swan could only think of as 'pissed.'
“You're always fuckin' fine, aren't you?” Cowboy scoffed, turning away and leaving.
Vermin looked conflicted, confused, and worried all rolled into one ball. He held the door open for Swan and the two followed after Cowboy.
“We're close enough to Coney... we can just walk the rest of the way.” Vermin murmured.
Swan distantly wondered how the outcome would've changed if he had said something.