DISCLAIMER: Yes, yes I own nothing oh sadness. Anywho Disney does own everything. I own the man though, but damn the man!

PROLOUGE

Spot sat perched at the docks. It felt good to be in his comfort zone. It was his throne after all.

He heard the guy coming from behind, his footsteps resounding off the wooden planks. Spot turned to face him. The man was dressed in average clothes, the only difference was the obvious gun tucked into his waste.

He glared at Spot, "I have a business meeting to attend to, clear out."

Spot stood annoyance etched upon his face, "This is newsie territory, not a place for business meetings."

The guy smirked, "Newsies, few more years you won't barely exists."

Spot stared at the man, mentally restraining himself, "We exist now."

The man's fingers twitched hovering above the gun; he wasn't going to take a chance if this kid wanted to get violent.

Spot noted the movement to the hilt of the weapon, as well as his lack of one. The man frowned, "What's your name?"

Spot spat off the dock, "Spot Conlon."

The man cocked his head, "Well Mr. Conlon, this is gangland now."

Spot began to take his leave, not wishing to risk a fight without a weapon. Gangland, he thought solemnly, gangland might not be so bad.