- Chapter 37 - Flushing is Crazy and Race is Clever and Snarky -
Warnings: Soaking, kidnapping, blood, stress, crying
Canon Era
Third Person POV

Buttons paces back and forth.

Where is he?

Where is he?

Where is he?

Where is he?

Race had said he would be back after a quick meeting with the Bronx.

Jack hadn't been able to go since he had a meeting with Spot in Brooklyn.

And Jack had taken Blink with him.

We should've sent someone to the Bronx with Race.

We shouldn't have let him go alone.

What if he's hurt?

What if they got him?

What if-

Buttons thoughts were cut off by the door opening.

He looks up at it expectedly.

Jack and Blink walk in without Race, causing Buttons' heart to drop into his stomach.

Jack's mouth was open like he had been going to speak, but when he saw Buttons' expression, he stopped.

Blink looks between the boys in the living room. "Where's Race?" He asks quietly.

Buttons turns and walks into a wall (on purpose).

He smacks his head against the wall.

He's not with them.

What if they got him?

"Shut up..." Buttons whispers to himself, smacking his head against the wall again.

He has to be okay!

Please, please be okay, Racer.

Buttons was grabbed and pulled into someone's arms.

He immediately dug his head into their shirt.

They play with his hair.

Buttons heard Jack, but everything was muffled by his racing mind.

"Boots, Blink, Ike," Jack starts. "Brooklyn." He tells them.

The three boys nod, grabbing blades and running to Brooklyn.

"Henry, Mike, Mush," Jack turns to them. "Queens and maybe Woodside." He tells them.

They nod, also grabbing blades before running off.

Every Manhattan Newsie had some sort of weapon because of the turf war.

Race's was a blade with his initials inside cards carved on it.

Buttons' was a knife that flipped between a needle and a knife.

If you saw it, you'd just think it was a needle, until he flipped it to the knife side.

"JoJo, Romeo, Elmer, to Midtown and maybe Bronx."

They run out, their weapons in their hands.

Specs gently turns Buttons around in Finch's arm to try to help his cut.

Jack looks out the door that was still wide open.

Please, please be okay, Racer.

He looks back at Buttons.

His eyes softened, the poor boy.

Elsewhere

I swear to God, why does my head hurt so much?

Race groans a bit, rolling over onto his back.

A light was flicked on.

Race's eyes pressed more closed than they already were, the light hurting his head even though his eyes were closed.

Someone please tell the Sun to take a break for the day...

The next things Race noticed was a cut on his cheek, cuts on his arms, and rope tied tightly around his wrists.

"Wow..." Race mutters, his throat feeling like it could explode. "Someone's really angry at me today." He mumbles, his eyes still closed.

Race heard distant snickering.

It didn't take long for him to connect the dots and figure out what happened.

"Good evening, Racer." A voice greets from in front of Race.

Race whips around, immediately drawing his blade.

The voice chuckles darkly, stepping into the moonlight.

"Bucky." Race's voice was low and a mix of concerned, angry, and it was obvious he was trying to think of a way out of this situation.

"That's my name." Bucky chuckles again, a large smirk painted on his face.

His face would look better without the ugly smirk, Race thinks to himself.

He rolled his eyes at his ability to get off track and be insulting in his mind.

"What are you doing out so late at night?" Bucky questions, his arms crossed.

Race made sure the blade in his hand was obvious, not trusting Bucky at all.

"Last I checked," Race starts. "That was none of your business." He states. "And you're on my home turf."

Bucky's smirk grew bigger, taunting Race silently. "And which one is that?" He asks.

Race's stance relaxed a bit, his mind confused by the question. "Manhattan." He answers slowly and skeptically. "What other borough would it be?" He asks.

"Well," Bucky starts, staring at his nails like he had nothing better to do. "Since you're awfully close to Spot Conlon and you sell in Brooklyn, a lot of people consider you half Brooklyn, half Manhattan." His eyes meet Race's.

Bucky bringing up this fact gave Race an idea of why Bucky chose to corner him of all people.

Race stays silent.

Sure, he was like Spot's younger brother because he had lived in Brooklyn (and knew Spot) before he became a Newsie, but he had honestly forgotten the half Brooklyn, half Manhattan thing.

"Why are you here, Bucky?" Race asks, his voice deadly calm.

Bucky just smirks at him.

Race felt someone grab the arm that didn't have a blade in it.

Race quickly spun them in front of him, before kicking their back and sending them to the ground.

They shout in out pain.

He was immensely grateful for Spot and the Brooklyn boys teaching him how to be prepared when getting surprise-attacked.

Someone else tried to pull the blade out of Race's hand, but ended up getting cut in the leg because Race quickly moved it.

Race jumps back, bumping into someone else.

Race spun himself so that the new person was in front of him, again kicking their back and sending them to the ground with a yell from them.

"If you really want to talk about me being half Brooklyn," Race starts, staring Bucky dead in the eyes. "Remember the reason no one challenges Brooklyn boys to fights." He states.

Bucky just laughs.

Two new people teamed on Race, one going for a punch in Race's jaw and the other trying to grab Race.

Race easily dodged the punch to his jaw, but ended up getting hit in his right eye.

He pulled the blade so it was in his pocket, spinning around the second boy, but getting caught in someone else's grip.

Why are there so many Newsies? Was one of the main questions on his mind.

Race struggled to try to get out of their grip, but they were strong.

Really strong.

Race took three blows to the stomach/his lower rib area before he felt tears stream down his face and yells escaped his lips.

Race was pushed to the ground, landing on his back with a yell escaping his bloody lips.

His hand weakly went to protect and cradle his head.

Race took a blow to his jaw, his head hitting the ground, before he started to lose consciousness.

He felt Bucky take the blade out of his pocket, clicking his tongue. "Strong, but not strong enough." He states. "Smart, but not smart enough. Fast, but not fast enough." He smirks darkly. "Seems like you just aren't enough, Racer."

Race's eyes closed against his will.

After a minute, he lost the consciousness that he had been fighting so hard to cling to.

Race opens his eyes slowly.

Or- should he say 'eye'?

His right eye was swollen shut.

He saw Bucky's Second and Third in Command standing over him.

"Before you ask," Race weakly coughs out. "I'm not betraying my boroughs." He mutters, his eyes slowly opening and closing. "No matter what you do to- me."

Bucky's Second, Acid, smirks at Race. "Expected." He comments. "Which is why we have someone to help you."

Someone was pushed onto Race, earning a wince and small gasp in pain from Race and a whimper from the kid.

Race looks down slightly. "Dice...?" he whispers.

Crap.

Race's eyes widen as he looks up at the two Flushing Newsies. "Why would you bring littles into this?!" He exclaims, sitting up quickly.

Race pulls the injured little towards him, cradling the eight-year old in his arms.

Bucky's Third, Base, shrugs. "Why not?" He shoots Race a smirk.

The two boys turn to leave the room.

Acid stops in the doorway. "We'll give you two hours to make your choice. Give us our answers, you're both fine." He states. "Revolt," he stops. "I don't think you want to know what happens."

He leaves the room without another word.

Race mentally curses.

"Dice..." Race whispers, running his hands through the little's hair. "What happened to Buddy systems?" He asks softly.

"I made Brush run..." Dice whispers.

Brush is 13...

Brooklyn really paired a thirteen-year old and an eight-year old and though they wouldn't get jumped? Race rolls his eyes.

Brooklyn Newsies could be so dumb sometimes.

"It would be better-" Dice coughs weakly. "For them to take me- instead of- of Brush because Brush needs- to- to fight." He explains quietly.

"It's okay." Race assures the little, running his hands through Dice's hair. "Sleep, bud." He whispers.

Race's mind was racing, figuratively of course.

It didn't actually leave his head to go running.

He had to get Dice out of there.

Connecting the dots, Race's hypothesis was that Dice and Brush were jumped just before him yesterday and Brush ran to tell Spot or someone.

Which means, a Brooklyn spy should be here soon.

Speaking of which-

"Racer?" He heard a shocked voice whisper.

"It's really hard to fight when it's one against ten." Race mutters in response, standing up weakly.

Waves stares at him. "You look horrible- like really bad." He whispers.

Race shrugs. "It hurts less than it looks." He mutters.

"Liar." Waves accuses.

Race mentally curses at the fact that anyone who knew him well enough could see right through his lies.

Because Race was a constant visitor of Brooklyn, for reasons like visiting Spot (and maybe other boys) to brining Lucky to visit Tumbler to borough meetings to messages, most of the Brooklyn Newsies knew him relatively well.

They also liked to team on him to tease him.

Especially about Buttons. They really liked making him turn bright red at the mention of his boyfriend.

"Shut up." Race rolls his eyes, opening the window.

His hands were still tied, but he was still capable of doing a lot of things.

Race hands Dice to Waves.

Waves takes the little in his arms, waiting for Race to come out of the building.

Race heard the door start to be opened.

He turns back to face the slightly older Brooklyn Newsie. "Go, Waves." He whispers hurriedly.

"I'm not leaving without you." Waves whispers in response, his eyes widened in alarm.

"Yes, you are." Race states, pushing him to go. "I'm the Second in Command of Manhattan, I'm higher in power than you." He tells him. "Go."

Waves looked conflicted, but nods.

"Stay safe, Racer." Waves whispers, closing the window.

Race nods, watching him run off.

The door to the room opened.

Race mentally prepared for the worst.

Manhattan

Waves rushed into the Manhattan Lodge.

Surprisingly, Spot, Ace, Smokes, Hotshot, and Red were in the Manhattan Lodge.

"He's in Flushing!" Waves shouts, panting hard.

Dice stirs in his arms.

Everyone stares at Waves, eyes wide.

Buttons, Albert, and Spot connected the dots first.

"Race?" They ask in unison, Albert gasping, Spot frowning, and Buttons' eyes widening.

Waves nods.

Buttons' heart dropped to his stomach again.

He hadn't wanted to be right.

"He looks terrible." Waves adds quietly, gently placing Dice on the couch.

Specs runs over with bandages.

Buttons felt tears sting his eyes again.

Spot looks over at him, his eyes softening.

Buttons felt strong arms wrap around him.

He stays silent for a moment, tears streaming down his face.

"I can see why Race has such a strong- brotherly connection to you." Buttons whispers. "And why he says he likes your hugs." He mutters.

Spot chuckles softly.

Buttons looks at the door, his eyes filling with tears again.

He pulled Race's cigar out of his pocket, fidgeting with it in his hands.

Flushing

Race was pushed onto his knees, in front of Bucky, his hands tied behind his back.

He was in so much pain.

Somehow, though, he had managed to sneak a blade into his boot.

All he had to do was grab it, untie his hands, and get out.

Since it was only him, Bucky, Acid, and Base in the room, he had more of a chance in his plan succeeding.

"Dice escaped, huh?" Bucky questions, staring Race dead in the eyes.

The anger in his eyes was obvious.

Race fixated his eyes to the floor.

Acid nods.

"How?" Bucky asks Race.

Race stays silent.

Bucky takes his blade, slipping it under Race's throat and tilting his head up. "I asked how." Bucky almost growls.

Race narrows his eyes. "The window." He answers.

Bucky scowls at him. "He couldn't have run." He states. "Who helped him?" He questions.

Race stays silent for a moment.

Bucky makes the blade that was cutting Race's neck a bit more noticeable.

"Waves." Race answers quietly.

Bucky nods, dropping the blade from under Race's chin/neck and releasing Race's head.

While Bucky talked to Acid and Base, Race carefully maneuvered the blade out of his boot.

Acid and Base weren't looking at him, and Bucky wouldn't be able to see what he was doing from the angle he was looking at Race from.

Race silently cheered when he got the blade out of his boot, flipping it upwards so he could cut the rope that bound his hands.

When he finally cut the rope, which took like ten minutes (Bucky talked so much, Race thought his ears would fall off from hearing his horrible voice), he waited.

"Do you have any more questions?" Race asks with a slight asking of sass in his voice. "Or a purpose as to why I'm here?"

Bucky looks back at Race, scowling slightly. "You're here because I say so." He snaps.

Race scoffs. "Stupid excuse." He mutters. "It's like saying that because you like someone, they're yours, even if they don't like you back."

"Do you ever shut up?" Bucky questions, snarling slightly.

Race shoots him a sarcastic smile. "Only if you ask nicely." He answers.

Bucky scowls at him, standing up.

Race took this moment.

He stabs Acid in the foot with the blade, before doing the same to Base.

The two boys yell in pain, falling to the floor.

Bucky's eyes widen as Race jumps up, cringing a bit in pain.

Bucky goes to grab the blade that he put down.

Race makes a split-second decision.

He throws the knife at Bucky, not caring where it hit him, and turns to run.

Race heard Bucky shout in pain.

Race had a slight limp, but it didn't stop him from running.

He was fast, but the injuries made it hard to run.

And so did doors.

They were so rude to be in his way.

It took him about ten minutes to get a few blocks away from the Flushing Lodge.

Thankfully, their Lodge was close to the Manhattan-Queens-Flushing border.

Race saw black spots cloud his vision.

No, no, no, no, no, no.

I can't give up yet. I just made it out.

Race started panicking, clinging to a building wall.

As the spot got bigger and covered more of Race's vision, he felt himself falling.

Race felt himself hit the ground.

No- his thought was cut off by his vision blacking completely.

2618 Words
He he. Cliffhanger.
I'll try to get the third part out tomorrow as I'll have a lot of time of write it.
I know this moves fast, but it is a one-shot (or three-shot now). I'm debating making a book that had Newsies short stories.