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18+ Language Violence

The Yellow: Chapter 2

by TheCornDogEnthusiast

Warning: This work has been rated 18+ for language and violence.

Smoke fills the air, its almost as if it has replaced it. The alleyway is dim and dank.

“Whattaya doin’ down in this part a’ town, man?” The shifty man says.

“I’m looking for a gig.” I say.

He glances at me, looks me up and down, and scoffs.

“Based on how ya look, bucko. You ain’t getting no job with anyone here.”

“I can assure you, I can take on a job.”

He sighs and takes the toothpick out of his mouth.

“You got ‘ny experience? You’ve eva robbed, stolen, mugged someone?”

I stutter. “Uh, no.”

“Then you ain’t gettin’ no job. Go build up a reputation with someone else, man. You wanna get cash fast? Do somethin’ ya self.”

He puts the toothpick back in his mouth and walks into the smoky alleyway. I sigh. I need a way to join a gang and make some quick money. I continue walking around, looking for criminals hanging around. I turn into an alleyway. Smoke comes out of a vent and into my face. I hack and wheeze. Suddenly, a flash of yellow goes across my field of view.

“Hey! Who’s there?” I say, still coughing.

A man in a yellow suit grabs my shirt and throws me against a brick wall. He pulls out a switchblade and holds it up to my neck.

“Hey, bud. Do me a favor and empty yer wallet.” He says through his teeth.

“I-I haven’t any money on me. I’m looking for a job.”

“Let the kid go, Lee.” Another yellow suited man says from around the corner. Lee releases his grip and throws me against the brick wall.

“Hey punk, you one of us?” The man says as he helps me up.

He’s wearing the same yellow suit I am, the suit that my co-workers either called “outlandish” or “sleek”. His hair is greasy and slicked back. A puff of cigar smoke comes out of his big mouth.


My mind goes blank, I don’t know how to lie my way into this gang. I just have to shoot blind.

“Yeah, I’m part a’ ya gang. I just joined a few days ago.”

“Oh yeah? You’re a Yellow? Who recruited ya?” He sneers.

“Shit, all of ya ‘re wearin’ the same clothes. I can’t really remember, don’t think the guy said his name.”

“Oh, I guess that’s our only flaw.”

I sigh on the inside. My lying has always been good, but rarely was it put to good use.

“Has you met the boss yet?” He says, taking the cigar out of his mouth.

“Uh, no. The guy didn’t really fill me in on much.” I say.

The man leans over to the other thug, they whisper a bit and then they snicker.

“Alright, kid. We’ll show ya to the boss. I think he’s gonna like you.” The other thug says. He’s wearing a yellow fedora with a black strap around it.

“Is that sarcasm?” I ask.

He just leers over at me.

We start walking deeper into the alley. Trash piles up against the walls, rats scurry about the floor, hiding behind trash cans and dumpsters. The two gangsters stop and look around.

“You see anybody, B?” The fedora one says.

“Nah, git the new guy over here.” He says, still looking around.

Lee grabs me and pushes me to a door. It’s a heavy metal door with a little slit where people can see through.

Lee knocks on the door. Three times to be exact. The slit opens and a pair of eyes stare back at us.

“What’s the password?” The eyes grumble.

“What is this, first grade?” I joke.

The cigar man looks at me and says, “You wanna leave?”

“No, sir.”

“Call me Benny, kid. None ‘a that sir shit, I ain’t yer father.”

“Who’s the new kid?” The eyes shift to me.

“I dunno, you never said your name, kid.”

I stutter for a moment, wondering if I should use my real name.

“Uh, Quen, that's what e’ryone calls me.”

“No last name?”

I can’t say my last name, some of these goons might know DeLoyt, and then they’ll know about me. My last name is Blino. I think, hard, trying to cover up my identity.

“Schquibblino. That’s my last name.”

“Schquibblino?! Why, that’s the dumbest last name I’ve eva’ heard! Sounds like a magic spell you’s boud’a cast!” Lee cracks up.

I sigh, “See why I didn’t tell you the first time?”

“Yeah, yeah, Schquibblino, what is that, Italian? ‘Cause damn, you’re in the right spot, bud.” Lee says.

“It’s Italian. Are most of the people here Italian?” I ask.

“Bud, we’s in a mafia gang in NYC, you bet your ass we’re Italian.” Benny chuckles.

“Now ‘re you gonna let us in ‘r what? You already know who we are, and I don’t think this new guy’s gonna get up to any funny business, right?” Lee leers over at me.

The eyes disappear from the slot, and the door opens slowly. A stocky but tall man in yellow welcomes us in. His massive hand pushes me into the room. I’m greeted with an elevator that looks like it’s from the fifties. Lee and Benny step in, and I follow. An old man sits inside the elevator, wearing the same bright yellow suit as the rest of us, along with a matching yellow soda jerk cap. He sits on a wooden stool and his bony hand is gripping a copper lever.

“Where to, boys?”

“The main area, where the boss is. We got this new recruit and we gotta do the test.” Lee says.

“The test? What test?” I say.

“You’ll see. We do it to all the new recruits. I’m sure you’ll make it.” Benny says over the clanking of the elevator.

I don’t know what I’m getting myself into, I just got myself into this big mess and there’s no way of getting out of it. My thoughts are racing, but I can’t show them. Benny and Lee would kill me. I stood a few inches over these guys, but they’re much tougher than I’ll ever be.

The elevator comes to an abrupt stop and the old, creaky, metal doors slowly open, revealing a large room filled with yellow suited men. All of them look at us, but once they see Benny and Lee, they continue doing what they were doing. Laughing, drinking, planning, the usual criminal tendencies. In the back of the room there’s a large metal door. Benny points to the door.

“That’s where you’re going. That’s the boss’s office. Fredrick “Mr. Yellow” Grenners. You've probably heard of him, considerin’ he’s the biggest crime boss in NYC.”

“What am I gonna do there?”

“You’ll see. Our boys’re gonna love it.”

After every sentence Benny or Lee say, I get more nervous about what’s going to happen to me.

We work our way through the dense crowd. Yellow men stare at me with mischievous looks. I just keep walking. Lee grabs a cigar from a box on a bartop and shoves into his pocket. Benny does the same.

“Take one, kid.” Lee points.

“Oh, I haven’t smoked in awhile.”

“It’s not for you, it’s for him. You don’t give Mr. Yellow a cigar, he ain’t talkin’ to your ass.”

I grab a cigar from the box, its sooty end rubs between my fingers, covering them in dark gray patches. We walk up to a desk. A man sits there, filing his nails.

“Hey, Petey. Is the boss busy?” Benny asks.

The man looks up and sets the file on the desk. “Eh, I’m sure he ain’t doin’ nothin’.”

“Thanks, Petey.” Lee says as he opens the door.

The door shuts behind us, and now I can’t hear anything from outside, only the loud ticking of a grandfather clock. The room is dimly lit and the air smells oddly fresh. At the desk sits the man who seemed to always be on the news for causing crime:

Mr. Yellow.

He’s a bit bigger than how they depict him on TV. He’s about as tall as me, so about six foot, and he has quite the physique. His body is built like a brick and his legs are stocky. His head is round and it connects to his collarbone haphazardly. His neck is chubby and it folds over. His suit is a bit more faded than the others. His pale yellow suit is different in another way though, his tie, it’s a gold yellow. All of the others wear black ties, but considering he’s running this whole operation, he’s got to have to stand out somehow. His smooth, shiny head reflects the yellow light. His meaty hand opens and is put out. Benny and Lee place their cigars in his hand. I place mine and he closes his hand quickly, his beefy fingers nearly crushing my scrawny ones.

“New recruit, eh?” His voice bellows. “What’s your name, son?”

“Quen Schquibblino, sir.”

“Boy, that’s quite a name. Say, are you ready for the test?” He grumbles.

Before I can answer, he gets up from his seat and walks up to a panel on the wall. He punches a passcode in, opening the small metal door, revealing tons of buttons. He looks for a minute and then presses a button. A loud rumbling starts, progressively getting louder as the seconds pass. Shouting joins in, chants and yells. I open the door to the main room and I’m greeted with a crowd of people, but an open walkway to it. A large boxing ring. I stare at the ring from afar. Mr. Yellow walks past me, enticing the crowd. I just stand there.

“C’mon, kid.” Lee says. “All ya gotta do is stay in there for five minutes without getting knocked out or dyin’. It’s that simple!”

I sigh.

Do it for your brother, Quentin.

I climb into the ring and I look at Mr. Yellow. He’s punching his fists together, cracking his joints, staring me down.

“I won’t go easy on you, Schquibblino.” He growls.

A shot of adrenaline flows through my body.

I glare at him, “Come at me.”

Is this a review?



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227 Reviews

Points: 32581
Reviews: 227

Wed Sep 06, 2023 3:24 pm
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AmayaStatham wrote a review...

Salutations, curious mind!


Rinisha here, ready to dive into the pages of this intriguing story. 📚!

Buckle up, 'cause we're diving into my review magic! ✨

The Good Stuff:

First of all, let's talk about the parts that really rocked!

I read chapter one before this and I must say that you've managed to keep the suspense in there. I think this could be the new “Mission Impossible Gone Bad”. You did a great job at the end of the chapter. I was sitting on the edge of my seat wanting to know what Quentin has gotten himself into, but then came your cliffhanger. Awesome job! Your writing style fits perfectly with the “underground” people.

Areas to Improve:✒️

I have the feeling that your story has a lack of more vivid descriptions. You should try and talk more about the environment and about the emotions.

For example this part feels a little empty:
Smoke fills the air, its almost as if it has replaced it. The alleyway is dim and dank.
“Whattaya doin’ down in this part a’ town, man?” The shifty man says.
“I’m looking for a gig.” I say.
He glances at me, looks me up and down, and scoffs.
“Based on how ya look, bucko. You ain’t getting no job with anyone here.”
“I can assure you, I can take on a job.”
He sighs and takes the toothpick out of his mouth.

I see that you have mentioned quite a few times that they sigh. Maybe mention that they frown or Quentin gets a feeling of emptiness inside because he doesn't know how to help his brother. I think you make a good start about the “smoke that fills the air”, but then you kind of just shift away and start talking. I have the feeling the conversation doesn't flow smoothly.

Nailed It!💐

This is very thoughtful, I think it's a good thing that he didn't want to place his real name. I haven't heard such a funny name in a long time, and I really needed that today.

I really cracked up over here:
“Schquibblino. That’s my last name.”

“Schquibblino?! Why, that’s the dumbest last name I’ve eva’ heard! Sounds like a magic spell you’s boud’a cast!” Lee cracks up.

Overall Feelings:

I have the feeling that this is going to grow into an amazing novel if you decide to continue it, which I would definitely recommend. I love the desperation of Quentin, good job, because that stood out. You have made quite a good start and the concept is also awesome. Your writing style and dialogues also fits nicely with your story as your characters. I hope to read another chapter anytime soon!

Be sure to check out…📔🔖

Chapter Two: City Noise by @shima

This is also an action story where a girl has found herself in some impossible situation where she is kind of forced to kill, but while she does that ….
You have to find out for yourself.

The following few days passed her in a blur. She barely noted what happened to her. Stopping several small-time crimes, going on a couple of talk-shows.

It felt the world just continued turning, despite what had happened. The rest of the Seven barely registered the Deep’s death, more concerned with who would potentially replace A-Train and how long they would still be the Six. A-Train’s replacement choice seemed to be as pedestrian as it was obvious, the third fastest Speedster in the United States, Shockwave and A-Train’s bitter rival. The solution was probably already predetermined before Homelander approved it, born out of the collective minds of the board of Directors and Ashley’s little psychotic PR - brain. A-Train would be written out during that bland, carbon-cut movie they were filming, “the Dawn of the Seven.”, unless his heart managed to fully heal beforehand.
Which Annie doubted.

Have a nice day or night further! Keep writing! You are amazing!

Amazingly yours,
– Be yourself and keep writing! 📖🎉

User avatar
151 Reviews

Points: 3592
Reviews: 151

Wed Aug 23, 2023 9:38 pm
Junel wrote a review...

Hey there! Interesting little chapter you've got here.

First some nitpicks:


The shifty man says

I feel like this is a good example of one of the main areas I think you could improve on this chapter a bit: by adding more description. While you have some it often feels like the bare minimum so your scene isn't fully fleshed out. For example, instead of telling your readers this man is shifty in such a forward way give a description that leads to the same place. What about him actually makes him shifty? His posture, his clothes, etc.?
ny experience? You’ve eva robbed, stolen, mugged someone?

Just a note of caution here on using misspellings for accents. Obviously, in your case, it adds an important element to the story. However, if overdone it can pull a reader out of the story. For example, something like eva or doin' nothin' is going to be fine and I don't need to stop and think to make sure I'm understanding but something like this
git the new guy

had me pausing as if I'd seen a typo. At a second glance, I knew why, but every time I have to go back and second glance it is pulling me out of the story and can really mess with the reading experience.

Besides that, I think you have some pretty solid writing here. I liked the pace of the story and you conveyed the thoughts of your main character in a clear way. I'd be interested to see where this is going. It seems Quentin might be in for quite the experience.

Hopefully, you find this review helpful and let me know if you have any questions.

Sláinte -Junel

TheCornDogEnthusiast says...

Thank You!

We all share half a braincell that bounces like a windows screensaver
— WeepingWisteria