Dallas Winston

Dallas Winston walked down the street. He thought that it must've looked tuff and kinda like a movie star walk. It was the kind of hero walk when a hero was walkin' down the street looking for the bad guy, ready to fight him. He wasn't looking for anyone in particular, but he was always ready to jump anyone who got in his way.

Everyone stayed out of his path, watching him go by with a look of disgust. Dally was a greaser, a hoodlum, a juvenile convict. He didn't care what people thought of him, hardly anthing mattered to him. Sure, he had thought that he was in love, when he was young and stupid, but now he didn't care for anyone at all. Dally was in a surprisingly good mood, he could imagine the epic music playing, building up to the climax.

As he came close to the movie theater, he almost went inside to watch whatever was playing. He gave a harsh laugh, he had forgotten that he hated movies now. The last movie he saw had made fun of people like him, although Dally was sure that he was the only guy like himself for a long ways around, at least.

Dally kept walking and thinking about his life. It sucked, he thought. It wasn't fair that he was born on the wrong side of town, near the wrong gang and with the wrong amount of money. He hated the fact that he could have been the son who goes off to some smarty-pants college and graduated and married with a clean record and money to spare. But he wasn't, so he despised the opposing gang who had it all and had no worries about the future.

"Hey, you!" A rough voice called from behind. It was one of those b.a.'s from the Lion's Claw gang from a few blocks down. This was close to their territory, though they didn't often challenge Dally when he was on this side of town, unless he was actually in their territory. Dally was apart of the Red Pistols, a gang that was pretty popular and most often dominant in gang fights.

Dally turned swiftly around, pulling out his knife in a flash. "Hey, what?" He growled lowly, sizing up the three Lion members. He figured he could take them, without much problem. At sixteen, Dallas Winston was a surpreme fighter and readily took on challenges when they arose, which was often, living in New York.

"What are you doing in our territory, greaser?" The tall, dark haired one asked, his knife already in his free hand. His right hand was bandaged with a thick dirty brown cloth. He took a swing at Dally, but Dally stepped out of the way on time.

"Not gonna play nice, are you?" Dally replied, atacking in return. People stopped to watch the fight between Dally and the boy who Dally now recognized as Black Jack Evans. The fight went on for several minutes, and when the cops finally arrived and broke them up, both boys had many cuts all over.

Dally broke free of the cop's grasp and began to run. He quickly decided that it was time for him to leave New York. He took the long way around to the gang's hideout and finally lost the cops who were chasing him. He grabbed his things, took some money from the emergency jar, which the gang members had sworn to take from only in an emergency, and lit out for the train station. He was going to Oklahoma, where his step-dad and mom lived. He had run away to live with the gang when they moved. He hadn't wanted to go to Oklahoma. Oklahoma, to him, was the middle of nowhere. He had never been to the country, or anything but the plain old cities of New York. He had always hated the thought of leaving his gang and friends and home behind, although he didn't really care for the other members on a personal level.

But suddenly, Oklahoma became a new thought in his mind. He saw it as an adventure, a challenge that he was willing to take on. And though he didn't want to admit it, even to himself; Dallas Winston thought of Oklahoma as a way to start a new life where maybe he didn't have to be the big bad guy who hated everyone. Dallas Winston saw Oklahoma as an escape to a new level of freedom.