Brixton Brawl (open, by the way)

A calm day in the bleak and dull housing estates of Brixton, London. The grey concrete blocks tower into the sky, darkened and bound for rain. The iron bars of the fences do not shimmer at all, their cold light dulled by dust and filth. Pieces of rubbish, plastic bags, a spare tire, lay in a corner. The wind, a soft yet chilling breeze, picks up a thin plastic bag and playfully drifts it on her soft flowing movements.

A young man, perhaps eighteen years of age, jogging pants, sneakers, sweatshirt, approches a dark haired figure in a bomberjacket. "Hey! White boi! Whad's up?" A damning silence. A deathly glare. "Ey. You...you need something? I can ge..." Before the young man could end his phrase, the dark haired one roared in a thick Irish accent: "Does it look like I need something, punk!?"
Another moment of silence. Somewhere a steel door cracked loudly as the wind moved it back and forth. The young one slowly move closer to the black haired Irishman. "You gonna act hard? You gonna act hard? You lookin for trouble, man." He said softly yet intimidating. "Cos I fuck you up, man. I fu...ugh!"

The Irishman had flashed towards the other person and wrapped his hand firmly around the other's neck. The young one, struggling to breath, frantically searched in his pockets. "Wha...what da fock, man? Y...you crazy, what?" He pulled out a switchblade, but the Irishman spoke: "I DON'T..." and planted his knee in the young man's stomach. "...take KINDLY..." And once more. "...with FUCKS..." Fist met face and the teen fell to the ground, coughing for some air. "...like YOU!" The Irishman's big black army boot launched into his victim's soft belly, lifting him a couple of inches into the air before dropping him on the cold sidewalk. With a sense of disdain on his face the Irishman gather saliva in his mouth and spit on the sweatshirt of the boy on the ground.

Kramer had been watching. he walks forward, clapping. "nice work." he says. he steps forward and punches him in the face. "BUT THIS IS MY TURF!" he bellowed.