Honestly there are many different ways to interpret the title. I'm not changing it though.

Oh my gosh! Chapter 50! 

I'm kinda stretching the times a little bit haha. I didn't time things out a little bit ago...but oh well. Anyway. It's November 1st. This is the final battle. Hope I didn't make you all too anxious with that cliffhanger. Enjoy! :)

"What...what happened?" Race asks drowsily. He has no clue where he is. His head is hurting like crazy. He can't remember anything at all. He can't see--that might just be the lighting, but he's slightly dizzy. In short, he feels awful.

Something is rubbing against his skin, very irritating and giving him a rug burn.

It's rope. 

He's tied up. He can't move his arms. And his hands are tied too--behind his back.

He blinks as many times as he can, trying to get his vision working again. Through the haze, he sees Spot's face. Spot, who is also tied up in the same way he is, sitting on the floor beside him.

"It's November first, Race," Spot says grimly. "Happy sixteenth birthday."

This was not how I wanted to spend the day, at all.

I want Sheepshead.

But Spot is here with him.

Then he remembers Ray is here too.

Ray.

Is he tied up with them as well?

"Are you two okay?" Ray asks worriedly.

Yep, he's here.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Spot replies. "But you got a bump on your head. You sure you're okay?"

"'Course. I survived much worse. How 'bout you, Anto-Race? Are you okay?"

"I mean I guess," Race mumbles. "Anyone remember what happened?"

"Well, we were in a building..." Ray tries to recall, "then there was a door to another building, and somehow it took us into-"

"The World," Race completes the sentence, it all coming back to him.

Finding out about Them. Jameson. The Gambler (Fortunato Alam Ishmael Celesto Nephus). Ray. Trying to find the taken. Stumbling upon the World. Ending up ... here.

It's a very small room, looks like it was designed to hold prisoners. Like them.

"Are we still in the World?" Race asks suddenly.

"I wish I knew," Ray sighs. "I think we are."

"But we could also be literally anywhere else," Spot adds glumly.

Their situation is ... no where near ideal. In any way.

Even if they did find the taken, there's nothing they can do about it now. They're here, taken as well.

We have become the people that we read about.

The thought gives Race chills. Not the good ones. He's ended up on the list of people taken by Them of his very making. Talk about cruel irony.

Suddenly, the door to their little cell bursts open. One of Them comes through.

The guy grabs the rope right in front of Race's chest and stands him up. "You're coming with me."

"No!" Race protests, twisting and turning, trying to get away, but it's no use.

As much as Spot and Ray protest too, there's nothing they can do.

"Let go of me!" Race kicks the ground. Anything to make him stay in one place. But it's no use. This guy is really strong and not giving any leeway.

He's led out of the room.

"Race!" Spot and Ray call out in distress. 

The door closes, leaving the two alone, and their friend (closer than friend) shut outside.

Race is not going to come silently. "Where are you taking me? Where are we? Why is the World working for Them? Are we still in the World? Where are you taking me? How are you so strong?" That last one came from the frustration of not being able to escape. His hands are still tied behind him. And with his arms tied too, he can't use his elbows or anything else to fight. He tries kicking, but that causes him to lose his balance several times. This man is not stopping.

"Silence, young one," the deep voice of the man says in a disdainful tone. "You're being taken to someone who wants to talk to you."

Race hates him even more than before.

And there's just something about that voice that he doesn't like. He can't describe it. It's just that super deep voice, and other voices like that, that sound like it's husky or maybe it hurts or should be too low for the human ear to hear but is still dripping with socially-appraised masculinity, just make Race's blood boil. No one good has a voice like that. 

If Race knows one thing in this situation, it's that he's with a bad person.

But who wants to talk to Race? And why Race specifically?

He's about to find out.

Now he's led to face a man at a desk.

Pulitzer.

"We gotta help him," Spot says frantically when it's just him and Ray again. "we gotta do something!"

"What do you plan to do from here?" Ray asks. He can't stop fidgeting with his hands. It makes him feel a lot like Race. Race. He's still going to have to get used to calling little Antonio Race.

"I don't know!" Spot snaps. "Just anything!"

"Don't worry, we'll think of something."

"I should have fought harder," Spot frets. "I should have never let Race come with us. We should have left him with his Gambler. Back in July, Race was almost taken by Them too. I-I didn't realize that it was Them at the time, but I know now. They've been looking for him for some time now. And I let him walk right into Their trap. It's all my fault. Race has  been taken away, and I don't know where he is, and he could be in big trouble right now-"

"Spot, calm down," Ray tries to soothe him.

"Why should I calm down?!" Spot practically screams.

"Because I have an idea of how we can get out of here," Ray tells him. He wiggles his hands in the air in front of him--to the best of his ability with his arms tied.

That's when it registers in Spot's mind that Ray's hands are free from being tied. All that time Spot was talking, Ray was untying himself.

Genius.

Ray (with his body still tied up but his hands free) starts untying Spot. "Now, all we need to do, is to come up with a plan of how we're going to get out of here."

Race gulps. "Uh...hi, Mr. Pulitzer sir."

He has no clue what else to say.

Pulitzer waves away Race's harasser. Race shakes the man's hands off of him the best he can.

Now it's just them.

But only one of them is one of Them.

Ray and Spot unwrap the last coils of rope around themselves. They are completely free.

Well. Free from rope.

They're still in a locked room.

They can figure this out, though.

If they're resourceful, they'll be out of here in no time.

And once that door is unlocked, they'll be one step closer to finding Race.

"Fifteen years," Pulitzer says. "It's been fifteen years."

Race's heartbeat quickens. "Since what?"

Pulitzer doesn't answer that. "I remembered them well. Nice people. But some times, they went too far."

"Who?" Race asks, with a tiny bit more force. He has an idea of what Pulitzer is talking about, but he really doesn't know. Come on, think. What happened 15 years ago?

"Seitz carried out the order. Of course, bringing all the other people along with them was most unfortunate. But we couldn't do anything about it." 

Seitz. One of the guys who works for Pulitzer, not too much lower in rank.

Fifteen years ago. That was when Edward and Letteria Higgins were lost to a fire.

"Then not that much later we had to take care of the other couple, too."

Fifteen years ago, Giovanni and Mattia Bonoforte disappeared.

" Always the smartest, always finding every detail, the lot of them." 

Fifteen years ago, Race was brought to the Manhattan Newsies Lodging House.

Then Pulitzer finally focus on Race. "That one night, no one in that building survived the fire. But somehow, you did. How, boy?"

"I-" the words stop in Race's throat. "I don't know."

It's the million dollar question, isn't it?

I could use a million dollars. Pulitzer sure doesn't need another million.

But he can't let his mind get too far off track.

"Never mind." Pulitzer turns to look away, but then looks right back at Race. "Seems that having Higgins genes and Bonoforte genes did nothing for you. It got you right back to where they left off. They didn't do so good in raising you to stay away from trouble, now did they?"

Race burns in anger. "You never let them have the chance to."

"Ah, I suppose that's right."

"What do you want from me?" Race asks, weary. "I didn't do nothin'."

Pulitzer glares at him coldly. "You're here. Right now. You found out about us."

"So you are one of Them?" Race returns. "Or are you one of the ones on the second highest ladder rung? Wait till I get back to the newsies. Tell 'em that that strike we ended 'round three months ago was just against a second-best man instead of the top guy."

Pulitzer has no response for that quip, giving Race a small bit of satisfaction. "You aren't going back, boy."

"'Course I am. Where else would I go? And I know for a fact you don't want a lowly newsboy like me wanderin' 'round your World palace. I don't think any adoption is in any foreseeable nearby future either."

As amusing as Race thinks he is, he can see that Pulitzer is not amused.

Good. If Race annoys him enough, then maybe he'll just let Race go.

But that's not going to happen.

So Race has to try something different. "Where are you going to take me? Am I going to go where you take the others? The others who try to defy people like you? Who want to fight against a rigged system? Those who know what it is you guys do? Am I going to go there? Join 'em?"

"My boy, there's no one to join," Pulitzer answers smoothly.

Race stops. That means...

No. 

He refuses to believe that.

He shakes his head. "Mm-nn. You're lying. I know a liar when I see one. You're not Pulitzer. You're Pul-LIE-itzer."

Pul-LIE-itzer.

His brain is never going to forget that one.

Did I actually just say that?

To this tyrant's face?

He can't take it back now. 

He'll decide later if he regrets saying it or not.

But for now he has to keep going.

"People that valuable surely have more use to you and the rest of Them that you can't discard them that easily. How did we get in here exactly? We came in the back way. And not just the back way. The other building way. This whole place is a big complex, bigger than anyone thought. And already, this place is huge. Surely you have a bunch of taken people stuffed somewhere."

"We came in the back way?" Pulitzer repeats.

Then Race realizes his mistake. He falters.

Did I just accidentally reveal Spot and Ray to Pulitzer?

Because he didn't know that we all came, right? He only wanted to see me.

Are they going to be in trouble now that I said something?

What did I just do?

"Hey! Newspaper tyrant!"

Race whips around.

Spot.

Not just Spot.

Ray.

And what's more: neither of them are tied up.

Race whips back around to face Pulitzer with a smirk on his face. "Yeah. We."

Those are my people. 

He feels so proud to say that those are his friends.

Spot rushes to Race's side. "Oh, Race!" he exclaims breathlessly, and begins untying Race's hands frantically. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I am, now that you're here."

Spot hugs him tight. After a couple seconds, he lets go and starts untying Race all the way.

"We got you, Pulitzer," Ray announces, walking closer. "Right where you are."

Pulitzer raises his eyebrows. "Need I remind you that you are in my building? And I have people in here working for me. And I have the police on my side. I would just need to say the word or ring them up, and they would be here, and you will be the ones in trouble."

"What if we made the phone calls?" Ray asked. "What if we told them that you kidnapped two sixteen year old kids? And that's only from today. What if we told them about all the other things you've done? What They have done?"

"You have no evidence."

Ray spreads out his arms. "Behold. Two sixteen year olds, right here."

At least Ray remembered that today's my birthday.

"But you're also trying to attach my name to actions carried out for years by various different people and parties. Some actions of which I've been a part of, others I have not. And let's not forget who you are trying to take down here."

"Joseph Pulitzer. It's been too long."

Race (who is now 100% free), Spot, and Ray turn around.

It's Jameson.

"You found us!" Race exclaims.

"What?" Pulitzer says in disbelief.

"Oh, Joe. When's the last time we saw each other? Was it the good year 1880? Or was it '78? Some decade after the war." That's a new voice.

Fortunato Alam Ishmael Celesto Nephus steps out of the shadows.

So he did come after all.

Pulitzer's eyes widen. Then he narrows them. "I thought we had an agreement that if I ever saw you again in the flesh, I would kill you on the spot."

"Yeah, well, I just had to drop by. You know gamblers. Can't help it." He steps aside. "And aside from Nicholas here, I got another friend. Well. His friend, not mine. Same difference."

It's Bryan Denton.

"I, Bryan Denton, writer for the Sun, can now say that I'm witness to the act of holding two kids here against their will, and hearing you admit you've partaken in series of crimes committed," he says. "And once I tell Governor Roosevelt, there's nothing you'll be able to do to save your name."

The Gambler and Jameson are here. Jameson knows Denton. Denton knows Governor Roosevelt. The chain keeps going up and up.

And the governor has higher word than Pulitzer.

This is all too perfect.

True, Pulitzer is higher up than all of them here. But their connections exceed even Pulitzer's rank.

Ray smiles. "You know, Mr. Pulitzer? I think we do have you. Right where you are." 

It seems that Pulitzer has nothing left to say.

Race smirks, and leans forward. "Now, about the people who are taken. Where are they?"

"I am not telling you," Pulitzer answers coldly.

Race leans back and shrugs. "Fine by me. But it might be better to. Because if you don't, we can just say the word and you'll be locked up somewhere. Just like they are. Funny how the world works, doesn't it? No matter what, the World is in trouble."

"What all do you want, boy?" Pulitzer asks.

"I want you to let us go," Race answers. "All of us who you see standing here. And I want to know where I can find the taken." He remembers something. "Oh, and one last thing."

"What more do you want?"

"Lower the price of papes back to fifty cents per hundred," Race answers. "And we let you cower here a little longer. Let the evidence grow. See if you can find a way out of this. But we won't expose you're involvement with Them." Not yet, anyway. He holds out his hand. "so what do you say? Do we have a deal?"

Pulitzer hesitates. Then, still sniveling, he shakes Race's hand half-heartedly.

Spot cannot stop smiling at Race, looking at him with awe. He is the most amazing person I've ever met.

He handled that all on his own.

He feels his ... well, feelings for Race grow.

Race smirks. "Swell." I just made a deal with the devil and won.

He leans forward. "Now, where are the taken being held?"

Slowly, ever so slowly, Pulitzer points in a direction. "Down that hall, second door farthest down on the right. There's a key inside the light."

"Gee thanks, Mister Pulitzer sir!" Race exclaims. He grabs Spot's hand and turns around. "Come on!"

"Hey, wait up!" Ray laughs and runs after Race and Spot.

Down that hall.

He runs as far as he can without crashing into anything.

Second door farthest down on the right.

Race goes right in front of the door.

There's a key inside the light.

Race smashes the lightbulb and grabs the key.

Then, with Ray and Spot right behind him, he opens the door.

OOOOOOOO FINALLYYYYYYY

How was that?!

I think I wrote that well. 

I had no clue how it was going to turn out.

And now the final battle is over. The skies are clear. They made it through the rough patch. They can see the surface. The light at the end of the tunnel. They are almost there.

Race! Can! Handle! Negotiations! Yes!

I wanted to harness a lot of Real Racetrack Higgins sass. So writing Race's part was really fun, because I tried to really capture the spirit and wittiness of the person his character is based on.

I feel like I should explain that bit where it's talking about not liking deep voices. That might just be a me-thing. But like ... I really don't know how to explain it. If a voice is too low, and just sounds like it's dripping with toxic masculinity, especially when it's two of those voices talking together, I just...can't. I know I'm weird haha.

Can you tell that I like it when everything happens at a certain time? In this case, everything happened fifteen years ago. When everything connects in that sense, it just gives me chills.

Jameson and Denton seemed like the kind of people who would know each other.

Eeeeeeeeee here they go! Race and Spot are about to finally do what they set out to do!

Ready to see what's behind that door?

Please, no homophobia, profanities, hate etc in the comment section at all times.

Best, 

~Your Beloved Author (who has eaten exactly one thing today, 6 1/2 hours ago at 13:00/1:00 pm)