Al Capone/Disregarded Battles

Battles here were deemed to be unfair or otherwise not in accordance with wiki standards, and have been removed from the statuses of the warriors and displayed below.

Battle vs. John Dillinger (by Tesla Man)
(Opional Background Music http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GlEcV91LxPc&feature=related)

It was quiet, in fact, it was very quiet.

Its was a special kind of silence, like a deadly silence, the kind of silence that makes a pin dropped across the ocean sound like a jet plane taking off.

It was a miserable place at Alcatraz, a place filled with concrete walls, and iron doors, it was like a prison, but in fact, it was a prison.

It was the middle of the night and lights out had been hours ago, leavig those still awake in complete darkness. When its lights out at at Alcatraz, they realy mean lights out. There is a special type of darkness that only Alcatraz could obtain, a type of darkness that you could feel, the darkness was a jumble of all the misery, pain, and tourture the last inmates to have stepped into those damned halls.

Alcatraz was home to some of the worst ciminals history books wrote about. People like Machine Gun Kelly and the Birdman have walked these halls, but now its Capones turn to do some time.

Alphonse Capone sat in his very own cell number 443. He had been moved thier temperarly while more inmates come walking into these halls.

Capone sat on his bed, staring at the wall with a psychopathic glare like the other inmates who were still awake. Capone's eyes looked as if they were painted red. veins popped out of his eyes, straining to get out, while below them bags formed under his eyes from no sleep.

Capone had a tendency to not sleep at Alcatraz, Some inmates say he was driven insane by the same ghost attacking him at Eastern State Penitentiary, others say he has no eyelids, while the rest know better as to stay out Big Al's business.

Capone, with his blood-shot eyes, looked down at the floor, the faint glimmer of a glass bottle he had been passing back and forth between feet, rolled across the floor from his left foot to his right foot. He looked up at the ceiling,

The plaster on the ceiling was cracked and ripped from the last inmate trying to escape. Capone knew not to escape, even if he did make it out of cell block B, he wouldn't be able to get across the bay. The unforgiving bay. And if he made it across the bay, he still wouldn't survive. He's been reading the newspapers lately, and there was a supposed serial killer on the loose, and there's no doubt he'd be the killers next target.

He fell backwards on his bed as he continued with staring up at the ceiling.

Its just not possible, there is a reason they call it 'The Rock'

He looked at the lights. Two fluorescent light bulbs, one with a crack in it, spilling out all the gas, making it seamless, while the other had a tendency to flicker.

He looked down at his feet again, reaching out his arm to pick up the bottle. A Coca-Cola bottle he received for good behavior the night before. It was empty but he still kept it with him because it was the last shred of happiness in the dark and gloomy cell.

He smiled, it was comforting to know there was still some happiness in the hellhole that is Alcatraz.

He felt like closing his eyes, but he knew he shouldn't, he didn't know why he didn't sleep. He believed it was because his body has a natural tendency to stay on guard, the medic at Alcatraz said its because of stress, but whatever the cause, it wasn't good, Capone needed to sleep.

He had read a magazine article about how you would die of sleep depression faster than you would starvation, so he knew if he kept staying awake, he'll eventually die, and he never wanted to die in the place he despised the most.

He had been on this "awake streak" for about 3 days now and it was starting to get the best of him. He had been muttering things that even he didn't know what they meant. He would also start shaking that would consume him so much he couldn't move. But the worst of it, During some nights when he tried to go to sleep, he would sit up in his bed and start screaming, as if he was driven insane.

But the truth was, he was already driven insane.

He picked up the Coca-Cola bottle once more and stared at his reflection in it. The green tinted glass distorted his image, but that didn't matter to him, all he needed to see was some part of his face to prove to himself, he was a monster.

He seized the bottle, his grip tightening, and without thinking, he let out a scream and launched the bottle out of his hand.

Time seemed to slow down, its seemed as if time itself had ceased to move on. The bottle spun slowly, getting closer to the concrete wall by the second, and then...

Crash

Hundreds of tiny, bits of glass exploded and erupted from the wall, making the cell block sound like a bar during a fight. The soft pitter patter of glass rumbled on the floor, making it sound like it was raining glass, and then all in a flash, time returned to its normal speed.

"Capone!" The words echoed down the hallway as the guard came up to inspect the sounds source. To him, it was obvious, it was Capone, everything bad had to do with Capone in the guards mind.

The Guard stormed over and swung his baton against the iron bars, the sound bounced around in the cell, making Capone's eardrums ring violently.

"Yes Walter?" His voice was sarcastic, it was obvious to any open ear, but Walter didn't get the hint.

"How many times do i have to tell you!" Walter cleared his throat. "Go to sleep!"

Walter was maybe in his mid 50s. His black suit was ironed so much it seemed like glass, his cap was slightly tilted to the side. But what Capone remembered him by was his mustache. A big, bushy painter's brush mustache covered his entire top lip.

He licked his lips and cleared his throat with the assistance of his fist. "We got a new kid coming in and i don't want you setting a bad example, you got me?"

Capone stared at him then nodded. He was in half nod, when Another guard called for Walter.

"Let me handle Capone for the night."

The voice was familiar, ad when he heard it, Capone grew into a smile. It was Dennis.

Dennis was an all around good guy. He was a Warden, much like Walter, but he was more than a Warden to Capone. Dennis was a friend.

Dennis marched over to Capone's cell and looked behind the bars.

"How'ya doin' buddy?" Dennis' mouth rose into a smirk.

"Just fine Dennis." Capone laughed.

Dennis put his hands in a fist and placed them over his hips, imitating Walter. Capone burst out into a laughing fit.

"Oh, Im Walter, i'm going to take you to jail because you forgot to tie your shoe laces!" Dennis imitated Walters muffled voice, and he did a surprisingly good job imitating Mr. Mustache.

Capone fell backwards onto his bed, laughing and grinning while staring up at the ceiling.

"oh, i almost forgot, stay here." He held out his hands as if telling a dog to stay, but the fact was, where else could he go? he's trapped between 3 walls of 5 foot thick concrete. "Ill be right back, i have a surprise for you." Dennis ran off, as Capone laid on his bed once again.

About a minute had past by the time Dennis returned, holding something behind his back.

"well, what is it Dennis?" Capone sat back up.

Dennis did his best french butler imitation. holding one hand behind his back while the other placed a cup of Hot Chocolate on the floor, gently saying, "There you are monsieur." As he slowly backed away.

Capone reached down for the Hot Chocolate. The whip cream dispersed itself throughout the cup. The aroma was intense, filing the cell with the satisfying smells of warm chocolate and peppermint. He raised the cup to his lips and drank. Immediately, warmth ran don his spine, followed by a burst of mint. He lowered the glass, "Thank you Dennis."

Dennis nodded his head and glanced at his clock.

"Oh, i'm sorry Al, you can keep the cup, i have to go help the new guy in, apparently he's been running from the law for a year now, and he finally has a date with The Rock.

Dennis winked and tipped his hat as he turned around and ran off.

Capone took another sip of the Coca then placed the cup on his desk. He jumped on the bed a lowered his head to the pillow. It was soft, like a feather, no, like a pile of feathers. His eyelids felt like they were made of Iron, he slowly lowered them, like you would when you finish lifting weights.

It was then, when Capone had his best sleep yet since his sentence to Alcatraz.

♦ ♦ ♦

He stared up at the lunch menu, pondering over getting either broccoli or spinach.

He looked down on his plate, he had a sloppy joe and some sort of, well, he didn't know what it was, it was a gooey substance like Jell-o, but it looked like it was made of meat. He cringed.

"Ill take the broccoli." Capone pointed to the bin filled with the little green trees.

The lady scooped up the Broccoli in the massive ladle and dumped the broccoli on his plate.

The lady, still looking at the box of broccoli, took a deep breath, "You get a good sleep last night Al?"

Of course she knew, after all, she is Dennis' wife

Capone shook his head, "Better than any, Betty"

Al turned to the tables in the mess hall. It was a massive complex that allowed Al 20 minutes outside of his cell, full of about 30 tables, and all of his inmates.

Al chose a table and sat down, a table that was far away from any trouble, where he could eat in peace.

He impaled is broccoli as juice gushed out, making the vegetable soggy and wet. Al sighed, and brought the food up to his face. He was about half way to his mouth, holding his breath to get rid of the smell. The food scraped his teeth as it went in, it rolled over his tongue, he chewed, cringing at the taste of a soggy vegetable, he took another bite, worst than the first, and then his savior came.

"So what'ya doin' Big Al?" Al swallowed his food, it slid down his throat like a green worm.

He looked over at the man who had sat next to him. It was Benny.

Al beamed a smile and laughed wrapping his left arm around his shoulder and playfully punched his shoulder.

"So what bring you back?" Al looked at Benny, still smiling.

"I 'borrowed' another car" Benny put air quotes around borrowed.

About a month ago, Benny was put on probation early for good behavior, but what made it even better is that he got into Alcatraz the second time the same way he got in the first.

"Some people never learn Benny" Al shook his head with a smile.

Benny was a skinny, scrawny man, but he was crafty and the Houdini of cell doors. He had slick, black hair, with a fancy for sideburns. they looked at each other, They were both wearing the same "Regulation No. 32" blue uniform.

"Its nice to be back in my old clothes again." Benny smirked, laughing at his sarcasm.

They continued to eat, Capone finished the rest of his sloppy joe and he had been pushing the Jell-o stuff around his plate with his for, checking to see that it didn't eat him before he could put it on his fork.

He looked down at the broccoli. The last broccoli he ate almost made him throw up if it weren't for Benny coming. He looked down at the ground underneath the table, seeing if he could get away with it.

He lowered the plate under the table and pushed the wet, gooey broccoli to the ground, swallowing down his breakfast as he saw it plop to the floor.

He turned, checking to see if anyone had noticed, and i couldn't had been worse.

There he was, standing in his warden officer with that mustache gleaming in the incandescent light.

Damn

Capone's heart sank as Walter whispered in his ear. "For some reason, i can never seem to 'get to know you. But thats all about to change, Walters taking a break, so i think i should 'privately escort' you back to your cell for making such a mess."

Capone stood up as Walter tied cuffs around his wrist.

He hated the things, they were never big enough for his wrist to fit into and they always left red marks afterwards.

a crash rang out on the other side of the mess hall. Walter turned, he tried to resist getting someone else in trouble.

"Umm... Stay here, ill be right back." Walter rushed to the other side of the mess hall.

Capone gestured to Benny, lock pick extraordinaire. He took his fork and stuck one of the metal prongs into the lock and twisted. A click whispered softly into the air as the cuffs gently came crashing to the ground.

Capone turned and nodded his head towards Benny as he got down low and scampered into the kitchen with Betty. She looked down at him and mouthed the words "what are you doing?" Capone brushed away the question with a wave of his hand.

"Betty, may i hide in the kitchen? Mr. Mustache has it good on me." Betty turned

"Well honey, down in the back of the kitchen theres a freezer, hide there, i don't know how long you'll be able to hide, but its worth a shot." Betty pointed behind her deep into the kitchen.

Capone stood, "Thanks Betty." He kissed her on the cheek and ran off.

"Capone may not pay taxes, but he's quite the gentleman." Betty whispered to herself as she continued serving toxic waste to the inmates.

Capone ran up to the freezer, looking inside the fogged up glass window. He saw an outline of a person in there, rummaging through the ice then eventually turning to the door.

Capone dove behind a waste bin.

The metal door swung open as a man walked out, maybe in his twenties or so. He had a very definite cleft chin and a thin mustache that sat on his upper lip. He wore the same "Regulation No. 36" Uniform as Al, showing he was from Capone's cell block.

Capone took another look from behind the waste bin at the prisoner. He had an ice pick in his and as he turned around quickly, staying on guard. He wasn't supposed too be there, so he had to take precautions. He slowly turned his head back around, but snapped it back, seeing a man behind the bin duck.

The prisoner slowly walked towards the waste bin, as he swung his arm to the other side, smashing the ice pick into... metal.

He walked around to the other side, no one.

This battle will not be finished, because the author has been banned.

WINNER: AL CAPONE

Expert's Opinion
Al was one of the most ruthless and intelligent mobsters to exist. He was highly intelligent, ruthless and intuitive. He grew up on the toughest streets of Chicago, as well as packed Tommy gun that swept everyone down onto the ground. Dillinger fell short of this in every category.

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