The distribution center, as usual, was full of noise and activity as the boys waited in line for their papers. Davey glanced up at the headline again, squinting in the bright sunlight

Choker Again Hiding?

"What do ya think Dave?" Jack asked from his spot next to Davey.

"It's okay. Better than usual."

"Just okay?" Jack laughed. "Today's gonna sell great! Specs, what's it say?"

The boy, who had been first in line that day, quickly read through the short article about the politician hiding out at the Wawayanda Club. As he read, all the newsies grinned, only growing happier with each word.

"Boys!" Jack called, drawing their attention. "Davey here said that fantastic article wese got today was only 'okay'. I thinks that he just needs a little inspiration. Why don't wese help him out? Elmer, you got somethin'?"

"'Course I do. How abouts 'Croker Attacks Gentlemen In Broad Daylight!'"

"Not bad," Jack said. "What about you Ike?"

Ike, who stood next to Mike, grinned. "Easy. 'Croker and the Irish Gangs Take Over Gentlemen's Club!'"

"I got a line better than both of those," Albert bragged.

"Alright, let's hear it," Romeo challenged.

"Extry! Extry! Mayor Van Wyck Stranded on Island With Infamous Boss Croker!" A few boys clapped as Albert bowed with a smirk on his face.

"But he isn't, I mean, the mayor's a member there but-"

"Dave, I never thought I'd say it, but take some advice from Albert. That was almost as good as something I could come up with," Jack said, wrapping his arm around Davey's shoulder.

"Jack, I just don't feel comfortable lying, you know that."

"I know Dave, and you know what? If you can afford to not lie and still have enough food to eat, then don't. But you are the one who's feedin' your family right now, and sometimes that' a little more important."

Davey sighed, still unhappy, but knowing that Jack was right. "I'll try it."

"Don't worry Davey! You'll be fine!" Jack encouraged. "You can't be worse than Buttons over there!"

"Hey!" Buttons exclaimed.

"Hey yaself, this ain't your conversation, don't be eavesdroppin'."

Davey stepped up to the counter and bought his normal sixty papers before splitting them with Les. Jack stood next to him as the boys started to leave.

"Really Dave, you can do this. You'll sell just fine, and we ain't doin' nothin' the reporters didn't already do in the article."

"I know. C'mon Les, it's time to go selling."

***

All of Spot's boys knew that when he was on the docks he was thinking and when he was thinking, he was to be left alone. That's why he was so surprised to hear footsteps approaching as he sat on the edge of the dock, boots sitting next to him, and feet dangling in the water.

The sound had a strange rhythm, Spot determined it to be caused by a limp. He waited, giving the person a chance to come to their senses and leave him alone before he snapped at them. The person didn't turn around though, they just kept hurrying towards him.

"Spot!" The intruder panted. "Spot!"

"What do you want?" Spot snapped, turning to face the boy. As soon as he saw him, Spot froze.

Being from Brooklyn, Spot's boys often got into small fights with other newsies, or even with themselves. It wasn't anything special to hear about one of the older boys getting knocked around a bit. One of his younger birds getting beaten up was far less common.

"Slick, what happened to ya?" Spot asked, concerned. The shorter boy's face was already covered in bruises, his vest ripped, and his knee torn up.

"I don't know," the boy gasped. "They was laughin' and hittin' me and they took my money from me!" Spot glanced around and, convinced no one else was watching, reached out and smoothed down Slick's hair that had gotten messy during his scuffle.

"Tell me exactly what happened Slick," Spot demanded gently.

"I was in Bronx, ya know, watchin' and doin' what I usually do. I was on my way back and I didn't notice 'em. They just went after me, took all my money... I'm sorry Spot, I didn't mean to let ya down."

"Hey, look at me." Slick immediately jerked his head up to face Spot. "This ain't your fault. Wese gonna figure this out and take care of it, okay?" Slick nodded and Spot smirked.

"Good. Now get word out to the boys to meet at the lodge. And let 'em know that wese goin' huntin' tonight."

***

Slick stepped carefully into the dark alley. From all his work, he had noticed that the boys who attacked him often met here after they finished selling. He was right, they stood with one other boy, smoking cigars as they leaned against the wall only ten feet from him. He drew closer and the new boy looked up at him as he cleared his throat.

"What's this? It looks like wese got company."

"Company?" One of he boys from earlier, the one who'd stolen his money, turned to face him. "Oh, it's you. Back for more already? I guess we could help ya out," he chuckled, stepping closer to Slick.

"Ain't your mother ever tell you not to mess with people who's smaller than yaself?" Spot asked, stepping around the corner.

"If it ain't Spot Conlon," another boy sneered, also stepping off of the wall. "Come to fight us? If you haven't noticed, there's four of us and one...and a half," he added, looking at Slick. "...of you. You may be cocky Conlon, but I never thought you was stupid."

"I ain't stupid. You really think I came alone?" At that, four of Spot's boys joined him from where they'd been quietly waiting. Two of the boys who had attacked Slick stepped back, headed toward the other end of the alley. Spot was right though, he wasn't stupid and had already thought of the obvious. Four more boys appeared at the other end of the alley, walking slowly to where the Bronx newsies stood, trapped in the middle.

"These are the boys who hurt you, Slick?" Spot asked one more time. The boy just nodded, a smirk forming on his own face as he got ready for revenge.

"Boys! These cowards here soaked Slick today, and then they took all of his money! Are we just gonna let 'em get away with it, or are we gonna show 'em what happens when you mess with Brooklyn?"

"Let's show 'em!" One of Spot's boys crowed.

Spot stepped closer, a menacing smirk crossing his face as he cracked his knuckles. "I think that sounds right."

***

"Alright! That's enough!" Spot ordered, stepping away from the boy he'd been soaking. All of his boys immediately stepped back and waited for his next order.

One of the boys laid unconscious on the ground, the other boys kneeling next to him. All of them were bloody and bruised, the sight bringing Spot extreme satisfaction.

"We're not done yet," Spot smirked, drawing a whimper from one of the boys. "I heard that you stole some money from my friend here, and he's gonna be needin' that back. How much did you have Slick?"

"Fifty-three cents," the boy replied from beside Spot.

"Ya hear that? Ya owe 'im fifty-three cents."

One of the boys remained defiant, though his nose was badly broken and he could barely hold himself up. He pulled the money out of his pocket and threw it at the ground. "There," he spat.

Slick dove onto his knees and a few of the other boys crouched down to help him pick up the coins that had scattered across the ground. Spot growled and stepped on the boys hand that still rested on the ground, causing the boy to wince and bite his lip.

"Actually, I think that you owe Slick here about twenty-five more cents as a payment for all the trouble ya put him through. What do you think boys?"

All of the Brooklyn newsies nodded in approval and Spot applied more pressure to the boy's hand, until he cried out.

"Fine! I'll give it, I'll give it to him!" Using his other hand he quickly counted out twenty-five cents and placed it in Spot's outstretched hand.

"Now get up!" Spot demanded. The three boys struggled to their feet, grabbing the arms of their unconscious friend and lifting him up. Spot took a quick step towards them, causing them to flinch and stumble backwards. Spot let out a low laugh, "Get outta here."

The three boys took off down the alley, dragging their friend behind them. Spot turned to Slick, pressing the extra twenty-five cents into his hand, and smiled.

"Good job tonight boys."

***

"Didja hear that Spot killed one of 'em?" Jack heard as he entered the lodge.

"No way," Henry gasped, eyes wide.

"Yeah, he just took his knife and grabbed him like this," Albert said, placing a hand on Henry's shoulder. "Then he stabbed him just like this," he finished as he swung his other arm towards Henry's chest.

"Just like that?" Henry asked in awe.

"Exactly like that," Albert nodded as he moved to sit on the table.

"Spot didn't kill no one, you muttonhead," Race glared.

"Maybe Spot was the one who got killed," Henry proposed.

Race looked at Henry in disbelief. "Spot ain't dead, I seen him today. He ain't worm food yet."

"Can someone tell me what's goin' on?" Jack asked, turning his attention to Race.

"Spot just licked a couple o' guys who hurt one of his newsies."

"No one died?" Albert asked. Race shook his head and Albert groaned. "Why can't anything interestin' ever happen?"

Race rolled his eyes and sat down in a chair next to Henry.

"Where were they from?" Jack asked.

"Bronx," Race responded. "Who else would be stupid enough to challenge Brooklyn?"

"Somethin's up with Bronx. Wese been havin' trouble too," Jack mused. "Race, head over to Brooklyn and tell Spot that I need to see him."

"Right now?" He whined. "Can't I do it tomorrow when I'm there?"

"No, I need to talk to him right now," Jack insisted.

"Fine, but don't expect me back until late. If I'm there I might as well stop by the tracks."

"Don't bet all your earnin's," Henry warned.

"Don't worry, I'm good at bettin'," Race said proudly, pulling his cap onto his head.

"Make sure ya send Spot over."

"I'll do my best."

"You always do Race," Jack grinned. "I'll be expectin' Spot in the next two hours."

"Ya really think Spot'll come?" Henry asked after Race left.

"Wese been havin' trouble with Bronx and now he is too. It's in his best interest, and Spot always does what's best for himself."

"I hope your right Jack. Maybe it'll stop all the trouble theyse been causin'. Earlier Finch came back with a shiner. He said that some kid from the Bronx tried to take his money and he fought him!"

"It wasn't that big of a deal Jack," Albert interjected. "You know how Finch can be, always exaggeratin'."

"That sounds more like you than Finch."

Albert glared and shoved Henry out of his chair. "He was just bein' a chicken, Bronx ain't nothin' we can't handle."

"'Course they ain't," Jack agreed. "But I'm still glad you told me Henry. If I'm gonna talk to Spot then I want to know everything. Any o' the rest of you have any trouble lately?"

"I think Romeo might've had some trouble, but he never got into a fight. You should ask 'im about it."

"I will," Jack said, ignoring Albert's annoyed sigh.

"Wese gonna get this figured out, right Jack?" Henry said hopefully.

Jack smiled easily, wrapping an arm around Henry's shoulder. "'Course we is."

***

Another chapter up!!! This one is shorter than the last couple, but it's almost 2,000 words. I hope everyone enjoyed it! I know it's kind of boring and repetitive, and that it might be moving kind of quickly, but the story will start soon!

Also, I've realized that I need more Fansie friends. I have one in real life, but she has a boyfriend now and hasn't really talked to me sine March, and I'm even more obsessed with Newsies since Newsies Live came out. I'm DYING without someone to talk to about it!!!!

Anyways, thanks for reading!!!!!

-Anna