Hi! This chapter will be done by: Draco's Secret Lover (shameless plug~ Go read my stuff!!!) Neither I, nor Butterfly own Newsies, or Early Edition. We did, however, kidnap Race, Spot, and Draco to be our love slaves, but that really shouldn't concern you...
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It was a very bad day at the tracks for Racetrack Higgins, who was staggering home half drunk at around three in the morning. He damn near broke his neck tripping over a large nothing in the sidewalk, and then proceeded to lie there, looking at the cobblestone street, until two pairs of feet came into view. One was outfitted with pink, knee-high bitch boots, the king that he had seen Medda wear before. The other set was wearing. Black leather combat boots. As he looked on, one toe of the pink bitch boots began tapping, impatiently. "Damn it, Mary, does he really have to be the one?"
"Shut it, Sue. Race? Race honey!" The person belonging to the combat boots now came into view. She looked at him with her mesmerizing green eyes, and then grabbed him gently by his shoulders. Suddenly, he was no longer lying down. He was sitting. The girl in the combats dusted off her hands. "There now, isn't that a better view?" She giggled a bit, like it was something she didn't do often.
The one in the pink bitch boots was still tapping her toes. "I still don't see why we couldn't have gone to Spot. I like him *much* better." She accentuated much. "Well, at least let me sober him up a bit."
"Oh, all right. Just don't hurt this one. I like him." Combat-boot girl smiled the kind of smile that they wrote poems about. Bitch-boot girl rolled her eyes and went into a nearby alley. With a brilliant flash of light, she returned, holding a bucket of water, and a strange, gun-shaped object. She handed the gun-shaped object to Combat-boot girl, and threw the water at him. It was freezing, and that broke him out of his drunken-stupor.
"Gawd-dammit goil! What da hell was dat foah?!?!" He took his hat off and wrung it out. Combat-boot girl came forward again and aimed the gin-thing at him. She pulled the trigger, and Race flinched. But instead of being hit by a bullet, he was hit by a blast of hot air. The girl dried him off with the hot-air, and then stepped back.
The girls now linked arms and they both smiled that wonderful kind of smile that makes males of all ages turn to puddles of goo. Combat-Boot girl spoke first. "We have a present for you..."
"-More like a mission, really. We need you..."
"-To help those in need of help. We give you this..."
"-To use to your best advantage." Bitch-boot girl finally finished. She pulled something out from somewhere and threw it at Race.
"A pape? What da hell do ya gimme a pape foah? I'm a newsie, fer Christ' sake!"
"Look at it, moron!" Bitch-boot girl flipped her long hair, obviously annoyed.
"I can't see it. It's dark. Besides. I know what it says. I sold fifty of em taday."
Combat-Boot girl pulled a large lantern from behind a convienently placed garbage can and turned it on. Race could now clearly see the girls. They were the most beautiful creatures he had ever seen. To beautiful to be real. The one with the pink Bitch-Boots had perfect, waist length, straight, honey blonde hair, and big blue eyes. She was tall, with a perfect body, which was accented by her tight pink dress. Tighter and more revealing then even Medda wore. The girl with the combat boots also had a perfect figure, but she looked much different. She had waist length penny-colored hair that fell into perfect spiral curls. Her wide green eyes were accented by light freckles, right across her nose. She was wearing a black leather skirt and a sleeveless blue shirt. Her tight clothes also left nothing to the imagination.
"Now. Read the pape." Combat girl said softly. Race did as told. He scanned the front page, looking for the familiar "Push Cart Caught Fire!" but instead saw "Children Trampled By Out Of Control Carriage!". His eyes flicked to the date, and he saw that it said September 18, 1900. That was tomorrow. What kind of trick was this?
"What the hell is you'se two tryin ta pull? This is dated tamarrow."
"Finally! These people need your help. You must read the paper, and stop all the horrible things from happening. DO you understand?" Bitch-Boot girl said, slowly, like he was a toddler.
"No. Dis is stupid. You two's is crazy. I'm goin' home." Race stood up. Combat-boot girl stopped him.
"I can't let you do that. Not yet. Promise me that you'll at least go to First and Broadway tomorrow. At least look and see if it's for real." She leaned towards him and put one hand on his shoulder. "Promise me."
"Yeah. Okay. I'll go deah. But aftah dat, you'se gotta leave me alone."
"All right. Go on then. And don't loose track of that paper for anything!" Combat-Boot girl gave in. They watched him walk off, carrying the pape with him.
"Come one, Mary. These bitch-boots are killing me."
"I told you to pick something else."
"Yeah, well...Maybe next time I'll listen." They both went onto the alley, and with another bright flash, were gone.
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Race stumbled into bed and dropped the newspaper onto the sheet, next to him. Kicking off his shoes, he fell into a deep sleep. For a few hours anyways. Kloppman came in at his usual time, and got all of the boys up. Race rolled out of bed, and then in the general direction of the washroom. He was coming back through the room, on his way downstairs, when he remembered the newspaper.
He went back to get it, and looked at the date again. September 18. Still tomorrow. He didn't know where these two girls came from. Hell, he didn't even know their names, but he had made a promise that he would go to First and Broadway, and, then he could put all of this crap behind him.
He knew that he couldn't sell papes on his way, since he was going out of Jack and Spot's territories, so he just took the one pape with him. He'd catch the evening edition. He snuck away quietly, while Jack was making fools of the Dellancey brothers, so no one would ask questions. He didn't particularly want to tell his friends that two insanely beautiful girls had given him the next day's pape while he was half drunk. He didn't even believe it, and he had been there.
It took him nearly an hour to walk to the correct intersection, and he was incredibly tired. He sat down on a crate next to a building, and rested. He looked at the paper in his hand. 'Might as well see what other headlines are in here. See what sort of imagination these girls have.' He thought to himself. He unfolded the pape.
It was all rather normal. The only thing that caught his attention at all was the article about the children being run over. The article said that three children, on their way home from the markets, had been crossing the street when an out-of-control carriage came speeding around the corner. Witnesses said that the children probably never even saw the carriage. The driver of the carriage had been thrown out earlier, right after the horses had first begun to freak out. No one knew why. It had happened at almost noon.
Race looked at his watch. It was a little after eleven thirty. He figured that he would wait around until quarter after, and then he would leave to go catch the evening edition. He leaned back, and closed his eyes. He listened to the people going by, catching snatches of their conversations.
"-so I told them that they simply *must* see it my way..."
"Good servants are so hard to find these days. I had to fire another one this morning..."
"Mother told us to get the vegetables back by noon and we're late..." This last one stuck with Race, and he opened his eyes and looked up. There was a girl, looking to be about ten, and two boys, twins, about seven or eight. Each one was carrying a brown paper bag, and the girl also had a cloth bundle of some sort in the other hand. She kept turning to look at the boys, making sure they were following. Three children. He looked at his watch. About five till noon.
Race felt uneasy. It was adding up all to well. He stood up and moved towards them. One of the boys stumbled, and something fell out of his bag. Acting on an impulse, Race rushed to pick it up. He called to them, and the girl stopped, just on the street. The boys skipped on ahead. "Hey, you'se, ah...you'se dropped dis."
"Oh, thank ye. Micheal! Joseph! Get back heah!" The twins turned around, and made their way back over, as only small children can when you're trying to do something important and they don't know. Suddenly, there was a great clattering and creaking and an elaborate carriage roared around the corner. There was no driver, and the horses were running wild. Race could faintly see someone inside, screaming for help.
He felt as if he was in a dream. Everything kind of...melted away except for the boys and the wagon. The girl was still looking at them. She didn't even see the wagon. The boys were continuing on slowly...more slowly than Race thought possible. Everything was in slow motion. The twins stepped onto the side walk at the same time, and then out of the street completely. And just then, the wagon roared by and everything went back to its true speed.
Race let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. The girl dropped her bags and grabbed the boys into a tight, motherly hug. Race gently set the loaf of bread, that one of the boys had dropped earlier, into the top of her bag that was now lying on the ground. He slipped away, before she could turn around.
Once he was a few blocks away, he opened the paper again. The earlier headline was replaced with "Wife of Hearst Terrified After Carriage Runs Rampant". Race smiled to himself, and leaned against the wall. Through his closed eyelids, he could see a bright flash of light. He opened them in a hurry, fearing the bulls or who knows what.
The same two girls from before were standing there again. They were dressed differently now. The redhead was still wearing black, but now it was a dress. She had black shoes, with platforms. They had flames printed on the sides. Race had never seen shoes like those before. The blonde was now wearing tight khaki-colored pants. They weren't shorts, but they only went to just below her knees. She was wearing a purple shirt. She had on white shoes, with thick soles, but not as thick as the other ones.
"So you have fixed the first headline! Congratulations!" The redhead gushed, smiling widely at him.
"You believe us now?" The blonde countered, smiling not-so-widely at him.
Race scowled, and nodded. "Yeah, but...Who are you'se goils?"
"I'm Sue, and she's Mary." The blonde said.
At the same time, the red-head started "Gawd, I just *love* your accent!"
"Uh, yeah. I'se had it always. Look, is this papah thing gonna happen everyday? Cause I didn't get no sales done taday, an I'm gonna be flat broke befoah too long."
"See. I told you he was honest!" Mary whispered to Sue.
"No, he's just stupid. He probably hasn't even thought of it." The blonde obviously didn't think very highly of his abilities as a world savior. Race wondered what they were talking about.
"Umm...goils? Sorry ta interrupt, but I'se gotta go." Race figited. These two were making him *very* uncomfortable.
"oh. Yeah. I forgot, you still have to walk back, don't you." The red-head reached out and took the paper from him. "See ya round, kid!"
They both backed up towards the wall and with a bright flash, were gone. A small slip of paper was left, fluttering to the ground. Race picked it up, and he saw that it was a column of the paper. One side was only half of an article, so he couldn't' see why they'd leave that. He flipped it over, and saw "Track Results" printed at the top, with a list of winners, and the time of day they had won. At the bottom, there was a hand written note that said: Just for living money. See you tomorrow! ~Mary
Race smiled, slipped it into his pocket, and headed towards Sheepshead. Maybe he wouldn't catch the evening edition after all.
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Review!!!
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It was a very bad day at the tracks for Racetrack Higgins, who was staggering home half drunk at around three in the morning. He damn near broke his neck tripping over a large nothing in the sidewalk, and then proceeded to lie there, looking at the cobblestone street, until two pairs of feet came into view. One was outfitted with pink, knee-high bitch boots, the king that he had seen Medda wear before. The other set was wearing. Black leather combat boots. As he looked on, one toe of the pink bitch boots began tapping, impatiently. "Damn it, Mary, does he really have to be the one?"
"Shut it, Sue. Race? Race honey!" The person belonging to the combat boots now came into view. She looked at him with her mesmerizing green eyes, and then grabbed him gently by his shoulders. Suddenly, he was no longer lying down. He was sitting. The girl in the combats dusted off her hands. "There now, isn't that a better view?" She giggled a bit, like it was something she didn't do often.
The one in the pink bitch boots was still tapping her toes. "I still don't see why we couldn't have gone to Spot. I like him *much* better." She accentuated much. "Well, at least let me sober him up a bit."
"Oh, all right. Just don't hurt this one. I like him." Combat-boot girl smiled the kind of smile that they wrote poems about. Bitch-boot girl rolled her eyes and went into a nearby alley. With a brilliant flash of light, she returned, holding a bucket of water, and a strange, gun-shaped object. She handed the gun-shaped object to Combat-boot girl, and threw the water at him. It was freezing, and that broke him out of his drunken-stupor.
"Gawd-dammit goil! What da hell was dat foah?!?!" He took his hat off and wrung it out. Combat-boot girl came forward again and aimed the gin-thing at him. She pulled the trigger, and Race flinched. But instead of being hit by a bullet, he was hit by a blast of hot air. The girl dried him off with the hot-air, and then stepped back.
The girls now linked arms and they both smiled that wonderful kind of smile that makes males of all ages turn to puddles of goo. Combat-Boot girl spoke first. "We have a present for you..."
"-More like a mission, really. We need you..."
"-To help those in need of help. We give you this..."
"-To use to your best advantage." Bitch-boot girl finally finished. She pulled something out from somewhere and threw it at Race.
"A pape? What da hell do ya gimme a pape foah? I'm a newsie, fer Christ' sake!"
"Look at it, moron!" Bitch-boot girl flipped her long hair, obviously annoyed.
"I can't see it. It's dark. Besides. I know what it says. I sold fifty of em taday."
Combat-Boot girl pulled a large lantern from behind a convienently placed garbage can and turned it on. Race could now clearly see the girls. They were the most beautiful creatures he had ever seen. To beautiful to be real. The one with the pink Bitch-Boots had perfect, waist length, straight, honey blonde hair, and big blue eyes. She was tall, with a perfect body, which was accented by her tight pink dress. Tighter and more revealing then even Medda wore. The girl with the combat boots also had a perfect figure, but she looked much different. She had waist length penny-colored hair that fell into perfect spiral curls. Her wide green eyes were accented by light freckles, right across her nose. She was wearing a black leather skirt and a sleeveless blue shirt. Her tight clothes also left nothing to the imagination.
"Now. Read the pape." Combat girl said softly. Race did as told. He scanned the front page, looking for the familiar "Push Cart Caught Fire!" but instead saw "Children Trampled By Out Of Control Carriage!". His eyes flicked to the date, and he saw that it said September 18, 1900. That was tomorrow. What kind of trick was this?
"What the hell is you'se two tryin ta pull? This is dated tamarrow."
"Finally! These people need your help. You must read the paper, and stop all the horrible things from happening. DO you understand?" Bitch-Boot girl said, slowly, like he was a toddler.
"No. Dis is stupid. You two's is crazy. I'm goin' home." Race stood up. Combat-boot girl stopped him.
"I can't let you do that. Not yet. Promise me that you'll at least go to First and Broadway tomorrow. At least look and see if it's for real." She leaned towards him and put one hand on his shoulder. "Promise me."
"Yeah. Okay. I'll go deah. But aftah dat, you'se gotta leave me alone."
"All right. Go on then. And don't loose track of that paper for anything!" Combat-Boot girl gave in. They watched him walk off, carrying the pape with him.
"Come one, Mary. These bitch-boots are killing me."
"I told you to pick something else."
"Yeah, well...Maybe next time I'll listen." They both went onto the alley, and with another bright flash, were gone.
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Race stumbled into bed and dropped the newspaper onto the sheet, next to him. Kicking off his shoes, he fell into a deep sleep. For a few hours anyways. Kloppman came in at his usual time, and got all of the boys up. Race rolled out of bed, and then in the general direction of the washroom. He was coming back through the room, on his way downstairs, when he remembered the newspaper.
He went back to get it, and looked at the date again. September 18. Still tomorrow. He didn't know where these two girls came from. Hell, he didn't even know their names, but he had made a promise that he would go to First and Broadway, and, then he could put all of this crap behind him.
He knew that he couldn't sell papes on his way, since he was going out of Jack and Spot's territories, so he just took the one pape with him. He'd catch the evening edition. He snuck away quietly, while Jack was making fools of the Dellancey brothers, so no one would ask questions. He didn't particularly want to tell his friends that two insanely beautiful girls had given him the next day's pape while he was half drunk. He didn't even believe it, and he had been there.
It took him nearly an hour to walk to the correct intersection, and he was incredibly tired. He sat down on a crate next to a building, and rested. He looked at the paper in his hand. 'Might as well see what other headlines are in here. See what sort of imagination these girls have.' He thought to himself. He unfolded the pape.
It was all rather normal. The only thing that caught his attention at all was the article about the children being run over. The article said that three children, on their way home from the markets, had been crossing the street when an out-of-control carriage came speeding around the corner. Witnesses said that the children probably never even saw the carriage. The driver of the carriage had been thrown out earlier, right after the horses had first begun to freak out. No one knew why. It had happened at almost noon.
Race looked at his watch. It was a little after eleven thirty. He figured that he would wait around until quarter after, and then he would leave to go catch the evening edition. He leaned back, and closed his eyes. He listened to the people going by, catching snatches of their conversations.
"-so I told them that they simply *must* see it my way..."
"Good servants are so hard to find these days. I had to fire another one this morning..."
"Mother told us to get the vegetables back by noon and we're late..." This last one stuck with Race, and he opened his eyes and looked up. There was a girl, looking to be about ten, and two boys, twins, about seven or eight. Each one was carrying a brown paper bag, and the girl also had a cloth bundle of some sort in the other hand. She kept turning to look at the boys, making sure they were following. Three children. He looked at his watch. About five till noon.
Race felt uneasy. It was adding up all to well. He stood up and moved towards them. One of the boys stumbled, and something fell out of his bag. Acting on an impulse, Race rushed to pick it up. He called to them, and the girl stopped, just on the street. The boys skipped on ahead. "Hey, you'se, ah...you'se dropped dis."
"Oh, thank ye. Micheal! Joseph! Get back heah!" The twins turned around, and made their way back over, as only small children can when you're trying to do something important and they don't know. Suddenly, there was a great clattering and creaking and an elaborate carriage roared around the corner. There was no driver, and the horses were running wild. Race could faintly see someone inside, screaming for help.
He felt as if he was in a dream. Everything kind of...melted away except for the boys and the wagon. The girl was still looking at them. She didn't even see the wagon. The boys were continuing on slowly...more slowly than Race thought possible. Everything was in slow motion. The twins stepped onto the side walk at the same time, and then out of the street completely. And just then, the wagon roared by and everything went back to its true speed.
Race let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. The girl dropped her bags and grabbed the boys into a tight, motherly hug. Race gently set the loaf of bread, that one of the boys had dropped earlier, into the top of her bag that was now lying on the ground. He slipped away, before she could turn around.
Once he was a few blocks away, he opened the paper again. The earlier headline was replaced with "Wife of Hearst Terrified After Carriage Runs Rampant". Race smiled to himself, and leaned against the wall. Through his closed eyelids, he could see a bright flash of light. He opened them in a hurry, fearing the bulls or who knows what.
The same two girls from before were standing there again. They were dressed differently now. The redhead was still wearing black, but now it was a dress. She had black shoes, with platforms. They had flames printed on the sides. Race had never seen shoes like those before. The blonde was now wearing tight khaki-colored pants. They weren't shorts, but they only went to just below her knees. She was wearing a purple shirt. She had on white shoes, with thick soles, but not as thick as the other ones.
"So you have fixed the first headline! Congratulations!" The redhead gushed, smiling widely at him.
"You believe us now?" The blonde countered, smiling not-so-widely at him.
Race scowled, and nodded. "Yeah, but...Who are you'se goils?"
"I'm Sue, and she's Mary." The blonde said.
At the same time, the red-head started "Gawd, I just *love* your accent!"
"Uh, yeah. I'se had it always. Look, is this papah thing gonna happen everyday? Cause I didn't get no sales done taday, an I'm gonna be flat broke befoah too long."
"See. I told you he was honest!" Mary whispered to Sue.
"No, he's just stupid. He probably hasn't even thought of it." The blonde obviously didn't think very highly of his abilities as a world savior. Race wondered what they were talking about.
"Umm...goils? Sorry ta interrupt, but I'se gotta go." Race figited. These two were making him *very* uncomfortable.
"oh. Yeah. I forgot, you still have to walk back, don't you." The red-head reached out and took the paper from him. "See ya round, kid!"
They both backed up towards the wall and with a bright flash, were gone. A small slip of paper was left, fluttering to the ground. Race picked it up, and he saw that it was a column of the paper. One side was only half of an article, so he couldn't' see why they'd leave that. He flipped it over, and saw "Track Results" printed at the top, with a list of winners, and the time of day they had won. At the bottom, there was a hand written note that said: Just for living money. See you tomorrow! ~Mary
Race smiled, slipped it into his pocket, and headed towards Sheepshead. Maybe he wouldn't catch the evening edition after all.
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Review!!!
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