Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies! Just this story and the OCs in this story.

A dark shadow flew overhead, but Spot ignored it. It was probably just a bird or bat or something, nothing important. He had more important things to focus on. He was suppose to meet Checkers at the border of Queens and Brooklyn at nine o'clock, but he had gotten distracted and stayed too long at Medda's. He hoped Checkers wouldn't be too mad about him being a little late. This meeting between Checkers and him was urgent. If things didn't turn out well, Spot might just lose a few newsies to Queens, and also Manhattan wouldn't be pleased if Brooklyn and Queens got into another scuffle close to their territory.

"You're late," Checkers greeted bluntly as he stepped out of the shadows to face Spot.

"Sorry," Spot apologized quickly.

"Dis meetin' ain't about the whole fight t'ing."

Spot raised an eyebrow and narrowed his blue eyes. "What do ya mean?"

Checkers glanced behind him then lowered his voice. "Someone's 'ere. Cheese it and meet me by your lodge."

Spot frowned and nodded. The two newsies disappeared into the darkness as a shadow ran past where they once were. The shadow paused a moment to catch its breath and check its surroundings. The shadow cracked a small grin before also disappearing into the darkness.

Spot leaned back against the alleyway as Checkers lit himself a cigarette. "So, what is dis meetin' about if it ain't what I t'ink it is?"

Checkers let out a puff of smoke. "Well, ya see dere's dis rumor goin' in Harlem."

Spot raised an eyebrow. So? How does dis affect me?

"I'm getting' ta dat, okay? Ya see dis rumor is about dis phantom thief."

Spot gave Checkers a bored expression. A thief? Really... I don't t'ink dis has anythin' to do wit' me.

Checkers growled in frustrating. "If ya'd just let me finish! If you weren't king here, I'd just strangle ya and dis would be all ova now. As I was saying, dere's dis thief runnin' around Harlem. Last night, 'e was in Queens." Checkers furrowed his brows. "I t'ink he's plannin' on comin' ta Brooklyn next."

Spot pursed his lips a little. I still don't see how it affects me.

Checkers huffed. "Ya boneheaded? For the past two nights, dere's been dis thief goin' to the same places you were. You should know what dat means!"

Spot chuckled. "Dere is no way they'd be t'inking I did dat."

Checkers sighed through his nose. "You don't exactly have da best reputation ya know."

"Since when did you care 'bout my reputation?"

"I may not like you since Queens and Brooklyners don't get along, but I knows what it's like to be a leada and have people talkin' bad about ya. So dis is from a leada to a another leada. I knows you ain't the one stealin' but da bulls ain't t'inkin' dat at all. I t'ink ya should lie low until all dis blows ova."

Spot frowned. "I see what ya mean but I ain't hidin'. I'm not lettin' dis person get away wit' puttin' me as a suspect. I'm gonna prove my innocence."

Checkers pursed his lips. "If dat's what ya wanna do den." He tossed his cigarette aside. "Oh an' about your newsies, tell 'em ta be careful next time dere near Queens. Dis is the last warnin'."

Spot nodded. "I'll tell 'em."

Checkers held out his hand to Spot. "Well I guess I wish ya good luck wit' dis whole thief business."

Spot shook Checkers' hand. "No worries, Check. It shouldn't be too much trouble ta get ta the bottom of it."

Harlem's Ghost Thief.

Thief Lurks into Queens.

Phantom Thief Strikes Again!

Spot yawned as he flipped through the papers. He had gone through almost every paper about the thief and hadn't been able to get any useful news. No one seem to have a clue to who the thief really was. All the blame was starting to point at him. Spot sighed through his nose. These reporters weren't very clear in their columns, but then it wasn't if they could just go up to this thief and ask where he planned to strike next. Spot stretched and glanced at the window with a bored expression.

Rrrrring!

Spot glanced at the door to see Jack coming into Tibby's. "Hullo, Jacky-boy." He waved to his friend. "Have a seat?"

Jack nodded. "Sure." He glanced at the papers that were laying across the table. "What brings ya here to good ol' Manhattan?"

"Clues, Jack. Clues. Do ya know anyt'ing about dis 'phantom thief'?"

Jack blinked. "Um well no."

Spot sighed. "Do you know anyone dat could help me wit' findin' anythin' about dis thief?"

Jack shrugged. "Not off the top of me head. Lemme t'ink about it."

"Don't take too long. I ain't got all day. I got papes ta sell besides tryin' ta be a detective."

"Your boids haven't hoid anyt'ing?"

Spot shook his head. "Not a word. Which drives me crazy! My boids should know everyt'ing dat goes on around New York. Dis thief is one slippery guy."

"Who says it's a guy?"

Spot gave Jack a "what are you stupid?" look. "A goil thief? You crazy? No goil could pull dat off."

Jack shrugged sheepishly. "Just a thought. It could kinda explain why we don't hear nuthin' from our boids. Who would eva suspect a goil ta be a thief?"

Author's Note: Short chapter... I know I hate it too! Do me a favor and review. ;) With a bit of help, I'll have the next chapter posted and it will be longer. *fingers crossed*