Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies! I wish I did but since I do not I write these fanfics for it. :) I hope you'll enjoy this story.

Note: This story is inspired by the song "Citizen Soldier" by 3 Doors Down.

Spot smirked as he watched the two figures scurry over to the docks. Ha, if only they knew they were walking straight into a trap. Those Queens were going to pay dearly for hurting his newsies. Yells echoed over the water as Spot and his right hand man gave the two a good soaking.

"Whew, that was rather easy, wasn't it?" Spot laughed and slapped Quill on the back,

Quill winced slightly. "Yeah. Lot easier dan I expected." He massaged his shoulder. "I don't t'ink they'll be comin' back here for a long time."

Spot grinned and pulled Quill onto his feet. "Well let's head out and get a drink to celebrate before goin' back ta the lodge."

Quill shook his head. "Naw, I got somethin' I need ta check on. You can go on ahead. I'll meet up wit' ya back at ta lodge." Quill winked at Spot and disappeared into the shadows.

Spot huffed and swung his cane by his side as he trudged through the dark streets. Quill was always very evasive whenever he was asked to go out and stuff. It was really starting to irk Spot. The first few times he had let it slide, but after tonight, heh, Quill was going to get it good.

"Weeellls he's gonna get it! Gonnnna get it good!"

Creak. Thud. Creak.

"Oh no!" Slate groaned. "Spot's back! An' worse, he's drunk!"

Quill shot up out of bed. "What?"

Slate dragged the older blonde newsie into the bunk room the three shared. "See?"

"This ain't like 'im!" Quill helped Slate drag Spot into his bed.

"Hallo Quillsssss I'm gonna sssoak ya. Soak ya good!" Spot snickered.

Quill sighed through his nose. "You're seriously drunk... How on earth did ya get your hands on alcohol?"

Spot gave no answer. He was out cold. Thank goodness, right?

Slate glanced at Quill. "Soooo what should we do about 'im?"

"I'll take care of him. Just tell the oders that um Spot an' I were out late last night because of the Queens. Once Spot is feelin' betta, we'll be out sellin'."

"You t'ink you'll be all right wit' 'im like dat? None of us have dealt wit' a drunk newsie before."

Quill shrugged. "There's always a first."

"Well, um. I'm hittin' the sack. Mind if I blow out the light?"

Quill glanced at the light by the door. "Go ahead."

"All right den."

Whoosh.

Creak. Plop.

"Night, Quill."

"G'night, Slate."

Pain.

"Ow!" Spot jerked up only to hit his head on the bunk above his head. "YOW!"

"I sees youse awake, Sleepin' Beauty."

Spot grimaced as his eyes slowly focused onto Quill. "What happened last night?"

"I'd like ta know that to, Spot." Quill squatted beside him and looked him dead in the eye. "Why were you drinkin' last night?"

Spot yawned and rubbed his head. "We always go drinkin' to celebrate."

"Alcohol? Alcohol, Spot? It's not healthy for ya, ya bonehead!"

Spot stared at Quill. "What do ya mean 'alcohol'? We drink coke."

Quill raised an eyebrow. "Try takin' a whiff of your own breat'."

Spot blinked and did as Quill said. "What the-?"

Quill stood. "Exactly what I'm wonderin'. Where'd you go drinkin'?"

Spot gulped a little. "Medda's..."

"Seriously... I bet one of those Queens swapped your drink when youse wasn't lookin'."

"Hey! No one gets past me!"

"Your eyes go all googly every time ya see Medda or any pretty goil for dat matta! Easy to swap drinks."

"My eyes do not go googly!" Spot got onto his feet and clenched his fists. "You li'le! Don't be sayin' lies about me!"

Quill just looked at Spot calmly. "Truth is da truth."

Spot growled and made a movement to punch Quill but then thought the better of it. His head was still feeling awful woozy. Quill would get was coming to him later. Wait... wasn't there something else Quill had coming to him? Ah, no matter, Spot would remember it once he got over this horrible headache.

"Finally, last pape sold." Spot stretched some.

Quill nodded slightly. He was a little surprised that Spot was able to sell at all. He had been grumpy with everyone else he met but with customers, he was a sweet angel. Quill rolled his eyes. Seriously...

"Are you gonna go ta the races wit' Race?" Quill asked.

Spot shrugged. "I dunno. I still ain't feelin' too good."

"Maybe ya should go back ta the lodge and rest?"

Spot frowned. "I'll be fine. Let's go see if Race is here."

Quill sighed and followed behind Spot. Toughness was a quality Spot was proud of. No matter what happened to him, he was going to make it through. Quill snorted softly. In his mind, to be truly tough was to be able to admit when you were weak and be willing to accept help to improve that weakness. He had tried to tell that to Spot once when they were younger but Spot just laughed it off.

"Yo! Spot an' Quill!" a voice called out behind them.

Quill turned around quickly then grinned when he saw their fifteen year old friend. "Hullo, Race."

Race trotted up to the two Brooklyners. "You two headin' ta the races?"

Spot nodded. "Yeah. Ya got any good tips?"

"'Course I do. Real good one."

Quill chuckled. "Betta dan last time?"

"What'd ya mean betta dan last time? It was the hoise's fault."

"Riiiiight." Quill playfully punched the younger newsie. "We'll see who wins the most."

"That'd be me!" Race punched Quill back.

Spot snorted. "I don't t'ink so."

Race glanced at Quill. He in a bad mood taday?

Quill nodded. Yeah... long story. I'll tell ya later.

Spot was zoned in on the race which gave Quill and Race an opportunity to discuss the days events.

"So how's it been since Jack left?"

Race shrugged. "It's been all right, I guess. Davey just don't make a very good leada. I t'ink he should hand just it ova ta Kid or even Skittery."

"Oh..."

Race glanced at Spot. "Soo wassup wit' 'im?"

"Eh heh... He came ta the lodge drunk ta put it bluntly."

Race coughed hard. "Spotty drunk?"

"Yeah. I t'ink some Queen musta swapped his drink."

Race furrowed his eyebrows. "Dis ain't good. Not good at all, Quill. Dis could mean the Queens want war wit' Brooklyn."

Quill breathed in sharply. "Do you t'ink Spot suspects dat?"

"I'm sure he does. He's not leada in Brooklyn for nothin'. Everythin' should be all right. Wit' you an' Spot the strongest newsies of Brooklyn, no way Queens could beat ya."

Quill looked down at track as the next race began.

Boom!

The gun went off and the horses tore down the track as Quill spoke softly, "Are we really the strongest?"

Author's Note: I think I got this chapter off to a good start. :) Please rate and review!