Alright everyone. This is the prologue to my new fic. Everyone should be proud of me. Although it is vague, I think it sets a wonderful mood for the fic. Now please review… and bug me online if you must to write more! And without further ado… the Disclaimer.
Disclaimer: All characters from Newsies belong to Disney and all the characters that are not mine belong to those who have so graciously lent them to me.
Prologue:
"Theodore!" the deep voice of his father called loudly across the small, dirty flat. The small boy appeared, looking both feeble and mischievous at once. His skin was dark in contrast to his father's pale Irish skin and it was obvious he was of gypsy blood from his matching dark features.
"Tell me what you have done now…" the stern voice came again, making Theodore shiver.
"But Pa…" Theodore whined.
"No excuses lad. I'm going to beat you into becoming a decent young lad, even if it kills me!" his father bellowed.
"It was only for fun Pa, I swear. I didn't mean no harm by it, honestly!" he said, looking towards the ground after admitting his guilt.
"You better learn respect for woman lad or I'll belt you good until you leave this house! You're mother gave her life to bring your lousy ass into this world and you will learn to treat every woman with the same respect your mother deserves!" his father yelled, pulling the belt out of his pants, the sound of the motion making the boy wince. "That includes Mrs. McNally next door. Understand?"
"Yes sir," Theodore kept his eyes on the ground and turned, bending over to receive his punishment for his childish pranks on the stingy old woman next door.
The hard whip of the belt against his back stung and brought tears to his eyes. The longer he kept his cries in, the more his father would beat him, but he never screamed. Not once. Not even at seven years of age.
It wasn't long before poverty killed Theodore's only kin. The boy was out on the streets at the age of ten, sleeping in alleyways and using newspapers as blankets. Already he had learned to blend in with his surroundings and keep himself out of trouble. That much he owed to his father. Unfortunately the trouble of having gypsy blood was that someone would eventually realize what he was:
"A goddamn no good gypsy," the husky man slurred late at night, having kicked the boy awake and pulled him to his feet to the amusement of his drunken friends. "That's what you are and what you'll always be! I once fucked a girl of your blood, no good hussie stole my goddamn money and ruined my goddamn reputation. You all ain't nothing but a bunch of low down, no good thieves and liars! Now get off my goddamn block before I kill your ass…"
Theodore was shoved hard toward the edge of the alley and he barely had the strength to push himself off before the man had stumbled forward towards him and began to kick him furiously in the side. "Get off my damn block you worthless shit!" he growled as the boy fell back onto the sidewalk.
Never saying a word, the small boy managed to stand on his own two feet finally and ran off, grabbing at his side. He had barely even let out one groan of pain and didn't dare make such a noise until he was a few blocks away, gasping for air as he took solace in a nearby alley.
"Hey kid…" a voice called out to him further down in the depths of the alley. At first all Theodore could make out was the orange butt of a cigarette glowing a few yards away. "Come here…" the voice urged with such command to it he felt no choice but to do as he said.
The voice belonged to a blonde haired boy around his age, or even younger, that was slimmer than his own starved frame, but there was a demand of respect in the boy's blue eyes. "You alright kid?" the boy asked, gazing straight at Theodore without fear, without even concern, simply with interest.
Theodore nodded his head slightly, holding the fair haired boy's eyes without even blinking.
"When's the last time you ate?" the other boy asked with a small grin of respect coming over his light features. "My guess is you've barely been eating all week…Well I got a way we can get you some food and in return you can help me out. How does that sound kid?" he asked, eying the guy and sizing him up.
Theodore nodded a bit and his companion smiled broadly. "Don't talk much do you?" he asked, pulling out a small piece of bread and handing it to him.
Again another movement of the head, this time to signal that he indeed did not talk much and he took the bread silently, eating it quickly all the while his attention on the boy in front of him. "How can I help you?" he finally ventured, his voice already deep for his age and weary sounding.
"By listening… you'll be my ears and I'll make sure me and you are taken care of … Deal?" the boy spat in his hand and held it out.
"Don't even know your name…" it was more a comment than an excuse.
"They call me Spot… Spot Conlon…" his hand was still outstretched and he gazed at him waiting for him to reveal his name as well.
Theodore simply spit in his hand and shook the boy's hand. "Deal…" he said, not really knowing what he was getting himself into, but figuring it was better than starving on the streets by himself.
"What should I call you?" Spot ventured, pulling his hand back and looking over the boy.
Theodore shrugged without a word.
"Phantom… that's what you'll go by… you've got a dark and haunting presence to you... like a phantom…" Spot smiled broadly as the boy nodded his approval.
Their agreement was left at that and the rest is now a very long and strange history.
Seven years passed and once again the two boys found themselves standing in the same alley they had first met in. It was closing in on midnight and the cold chills of night made both of them shiver. Phantom had grown to be a few inches taller than Spot, closing in on six feet and his dark unnatural demeanor had not changed a bit. That included his discretion to rarely speak.
Phantom had changed over the years from a gangly starving boy to a lean muscular man and his gypsy roots showed in his dark features and olive colored skin. His hair was longer and more unkempt than men normally wore their hair, but he didn't care to cut it, instead tying it up and keeping it under a black cap when he was out in public. Although Phantom came across as mysterious and gloomy he had a strange talent of blending in with his surroundings and his personality and demeanor also lacked in dominant authority. Even though he was a year older than Spot, he demanded no command or respect and instead took orders from the leader of Brooklyn. It was incredible the way that Spot commanded and dominated everyone so well when he was one of the youngest newsies in Brooklyn. Unlike Phantom, he was born to be a leader, no one could deny that.
"You've done well," Spot finally spoke, his usual cold eyes filled with something close to resembling happiness.
"We both still have a long way to go…" Phantom's voice was cryptic and his mood never changing from the emotionless void along with his dark near black eyes.
"I've employed you for seven years now Phantom…" Spot began. "I've moved up in the world and you've never asked for more, for something else to do with your life…"
Phantom interrupted him by putting his hand up. "I enjoy my work…" but there was nothing in his voice and expression that showed enjoyment. If Spot had not known the boy in front of him all these years, he would have found the comment sarcastic or even insulting. Seven years and not once had he seen Phantom reveal an ounce of emotion.
"I have to get back to Medda's…" Spot said, knowing they would meet again in the next few days whenever Phantom decided to drop in with valuable information. "Do you…"
Phantom shook his head and turned to leave. "Congratulations…" he said, pausing to look back for a moment. That day had been one of triumph, the day the street rat nobodies had made a change in the world.
Spot's gaze was heavy upon Phantom as he replied, "You helped it all happen…"
Dark eyes glimmered back at him and if Spot didn't know any better, he'd say there was a hint of a smile on Phantom's lips. Of course, Spot Conlon knew better and with a blink of the eye, the shadow boy was gone.