:SaS: The Street Fighter -

~continued from "The Street Racer"~

The Chief of Police stared at him. "How did you know Jet's real name?"
“Go on.”
"Tell me. And who the hell are you, sir?"
"You won't get anything out of me. Go on."
The Chief sighed. “…his nick name is Slick.”

Jet stepped out of his Lamborghini to face the furious driver stepping out of his destroyed Ford, who jabbed a finger at Jet’s chest and breathed, “You…asshole.”
“Takes one to know one, Pierre.”
Pierre backed away, his face twitching. “You’re not getting my ride.” He whistled. Five men stepped out of the nearby alleys, sporting crowbars and steel knuckles. “Now gimme YOUR ride or we’ll tear you apart.”
Jet smiled. “No. And I don’t want your ride.You call that a car? I've gone faster in shopping carts-”
Pierre yelled in rage and lunged at his quarry with a knife.
A tall boy with bandaged arms jumped in front of Jet and ran his fist up Pierre’s chin, grabbed his knife arm and rammed his elbow into his chest, flipping him sideways into the concrete.
The other men charged. In the flurry of metal manpower, he posed a martial stance and tightened his fists. The first man who reached him took a straight kick in the face, driving him spinning and stumbling onto his stomach.
Slick snatched a crowbar from one guy and lashed it against another’s steel fists, breaking his wrists. Throwing his feet into a dance, he threw each man onto his back as he planted his heels behind their feet and drove his fists into their guts.
“Don’t be hatin’ on one of my boys,” he laughed brightly. His brown hair shined in the city lights.
He stepped deftly to one side. A bullet struck the spot where he had stood.
Sprinting up towards a side of the street, he heaved the crowbar like a javelin up towards a hotel balcony. It struck a man with a pistol, who clutched his shoulder and dropped his firearm down onto the street.
Slick caught the gun, smirking. Then he heard a click.
He turned on the spot. Pierre had drawn a gun point-blank at his face.

“A prodigy in martial arts and European fighting, a champion in American boxing and fencing, he’s wanted for a fatal run against a government official and his mass disablement of the general police force…a couple million dollar bounty on his head. Not to mention,” said Chief, “half my district department is still in Clovis Hospitals ER because of him. It's his fucking trademark, excuse my language.” He put down his papers again.

"Slick? What a name...but I know him as Danny."
The man chuckled as the Chief of Police watched him uneasily.
Who the hell was he?