AN: As the child of two lawyers I know due process and that what Schrank does throughout this tale is completely wrong. However, anyone who knows anything about the law and WSS knows that Schrank's conduct is never law abiding when dealing with the gangs, and that he can get away with it because no one in power seems to care.
Also, just for a note… I have Riff paired with Velma here, because… Because that is the way it is. And because I'm basing this off of the play, which is so much better than the movie. Though I gotta give the movie props for having Russ Tamblyn. That guy just freakin' rules.
"Three, in one night you've gotten three killed, two of your own and one of theirs," Schrank scoffed, "True, rats like you make having a morgue in the area necessary, but you don't have to be so eager to keep them busy," He finished his opening speech with puff of his cigarette. He watched the gang, a certain sadistic glee resulting from the subdued expressions they each wore. Even A-Rab and Big Deal, usually so quick with a quip said nothing as the lieutenant's beady eyes scrutinized each of their dirty faces.
The Jets, standing disheveled outside the morgue, leaving the Shark's, Doc and their girls within to grieve over the three bodies, tried to ignore the fact that Schrank blaming them for Tony's death, as well as Riff and Bernardo's. Usually they were so good at letting it roll off their backs, pretending not to care when blamed for society's problems, excluding Action, but somehow this was different. They knew what, and who they were being held responsible for, and that Schrank wasn't the only one who held them responsible.
"Guess I was wrong last night, eh boys?" Schrank accented the word 'boys' as he stared down at Anybodys, who avoided looking up at him, which made him grin as he turned back to Action, "Regular folks do rub with the gold teeth for something other than rumbles," Another puff of his cigarette the gang as a whole flinched, "Oh, sorry. I shouldn't speak ill of the dead, right?"
"Just get to the point already, we don't deserve this," Action snarled.
Schrank looked at him for a moment, the corners of his mouth twitching. Action was the most amusing, in Schrank's mind. They were all so awful, so set on destruction and making the world around them worse, that having one around he could get to, strike back at where it hurt made him feel better, knowing there was one he knew he could get back at for every mean spirited, disrespectful comment and see the pain the little fool felt, "Oh, but you do, Action. I sincerely think you do deserve this. But you are right. The spics will be done crying over their boy soon enough and I'll need to talk to them before they can run off. I just need to know about the rumble, who killed who to keep the captain happy, and of course, who killed you're buddy Tony," Schrank felt a buss of excitement as he realized for the first time that the founders this gang of delinquents were both dead, which would probably result in them each going their separate ways. He relished the thought as he waited for a response.
The silence was long, as each Jet glanced to each other, making sure they each were holding their tongues before looking to Action, confirming Schrank's suspicions that the little hot head was indeed calling the shots now. He took a deliberate step towards Baby John, who A-Rab tried to shield, but was easily pushed aside, "C'mon Baby John. You don't want to get into trouble, do you?" His voice dripped with a false concern that sickened the boy, "After all, not cooperatin' last night allowed the rumble to go down. Just imagine, if you'd cooperated last night there would have been no rumble, no stabbing. Riff would probably be spending some special time with Velma right now, don't you think? But you just couldn't bring yourself to do the right thing, could you?" Baby John chose to keep silent, hiding behind A-Rab, who seemed more than willing to protect his little friend.
Schrank didn't count himself out though, he considered himself lucky. There was more than one weak link in the chain as far as he was concerned. He turned from Baby John, rounding on Anybodys, "What about you? You want to tell me anything?" He knew she was threatened, and could easily understand why. He was easily three times her size, maybe even four times, he thought as he looked down at her skinny little frame.
She looked up with him, her little chin jutting out impudently, "No sir, I don't."
"Of course not," Schrank said softly, not missing a beat, "You were probably out getting tips from your sister, right?"
"Cut that," Action's voice cut in harshly, though Schrank had never heard him, even when he was poking fun at Krupke or himself, speak without that edge that had the rest of their little gang constantly on alert. Schrank leaned back slightly, finding it funny that the boys were now moving in front of Anybodys, "No, not your sister… To have the boys jumpin' to your rescue like that you would need a classier teacher," He turned to Action, whose face was already reddening, no doubt he had an idea about what was coming, "Your mother I'm guessing."
As he had done the previous night he aimed low when he realized no substantial information was coming anytime soon, and sat back to watch the show as the boys held back their friend. He was so angry, hurt and, most amusing to Schrank, helpless to strike back. But then something different happened. Little Anybodys was right in front of Action, her hands on his arms to help hold him back and Action looking down at her, his expression softening and his body relaxing, no longer fighting the other boys. He found the few raised eyebrows amongst the Jets equally encouraging to his mean streak.
Schrank felt a laugh come from his own mouth. Deep down he knew he was just feeding his own sickness by mocking them, strengthening a poison that had been within him since his own rough childhood on the foul streets. But he didn't care about 'deep down' at the moment, or the naïve understanding Glad Hand and the new cops tried to show these kids. He cared about satisfying his own thirst for justice, a twisted kind he knew would get to them, "Ah, so she's one of those exclusive little cats, eh? Maybe if you had a job you could afford better-"
"Shut up, just shut up!" There was the rage, giving him that sick, sweet satisfaction, "Some of us may deserve this, but Anybodys," He glanced to the others and quickly added, "And Baby John, don't. You might, though I find it doubtful, be better than some of us at bein' a human bein' but not them. They are way outta your league."
Schrank found was dumbfounded, surprised that the boy felt so strongly about it. Just a few days earlier, when the Sharks and the Jets had had their little scuffle on the playground he had looked back after threatening them with a beating, and seen the Jets being cruel to the twiggy little girl. He couldn't make out the words but the body language, especially the very graphic language from the Jet clown, A-Rab, had made hearing their actual words completely unnecessary. And to follow up that bit of cruelty Riff and Action himself had physically and very roughly thrown her out of the gang's circle.
He honestly thought there was something wrong with women in general. They seemed to like being mistreated; even women of class thought it 'dangerous,' and 'sexy,' and thus, appealing. None of the guys in the group were a particularly great catch, at least he couldn't see any of them being one, but Action… Average lookin', but there wasn't much choice to go on as far as looks went in this neighborhood. It was his personality that Schrank would have thought would drive the girl away. He'd heard from Krupke that it had scared a number of girls away at that damned dance Glad Hand had organized. One misstep, one bad choice in words and he could see the boy murdering someone. Why someone would want to be friends with someone like that was hard enough to comprehend, but an actual relationship? Idiotic was the word that popped to his head.
In Schrank's bitter mind Action's taste was dead poor. The girl purposely played at being a little boy for heaven's sake! His little eyes looked her up and down. She had little to offer physically, her body seemed trapped in a shapeless stage. Her face, under all that dirt wasn't pretty and definitely not beautiful. Not that she was misshapen; she could be pretty if she cared… But she chose to play tomboy, though he could see how she could maybe be cute even then.
She's not bad lookin', you're just used to not seeing somethin' not bad about these kids, Schrank was mildly amused. Those 'deep down' thoughts had gained a bit of a voice within his conscious, almost made him regret what he'd been saying, almost made him feel like he had when he'd first become a cop. With this last glimmer still in his mind he looked each over, feeling guilt for the first time in years. A-Rab trying to escape the harshness of the world by laughing at it, Baby John idealizing and being protected by people he considered brothers, and he, Schrank taking advantage of his fear, Diesel, big and slow, but generally nice using his strength to take care of the littler gang members. And then there was Action and Anybodys, two lonely, dejected kids who just happened to understand each other. And here he was, big, mean, jaded Schrank, mocking and beating down the good in them.
As he shook his head, trying to figure out how to express that he agreed with Action, that they didn't deserve what he'd been giving them, the Sharks started out of the building, and looked back at the seething Jets, noting Anybodys hand discreetly holding Actions forearm. After a sigh and lighting a new cigarette he jerked his head, signaling that they could leave for the time being, "I suppose your taste could be worse," He muttered, as the gang left, leaving the lieutenant to nurse the guilt that had wormed its way into his system.
Three dead, He thought bitterly, And if you had seen them last night, or last month, or last year the way you just did, maybe Riff would be dancing with Velma, or Anita with Bernardo, or that girl Maria with Tony.
"Senor?" That sweet little voice, though hoarse with tears, "Senor, you are crying," Maria whispered, her large brown eyes staring at him in surprise.
Rubbing his eyes Schrank noted bitterly that she was right, "I am," He murmured softly, "What do you know."