Brooklyn: Mortals

By Keza: Queen of Procrastination

AN: I promised a sequel. Here's your sequel.

Chapter Sponsored By: "Rocketship" by Guster. Great song.

Many thanks again to the reviewers of the first story. A bunch of you guys will be appearing in this, so that should be interesting. I know I left a lot of things untied, those things will be resolved (most of them at least) but not necessarily in the beginning. Be patient.

Before you even THINK about reading this: You must have read 'Brooklyn: One Rainy Day.' If you haven't read that, this won't make any sense and you'll just get frustrated. Thanks.

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Spot woke up, and immediately wished he hadn't. He lay on the top of his bunk, limbs strewn everywhere, half of his body hanging off of the side. His head throbbed along in time with dozens of other places on his body, a constant reminder of the horror that was the night before. It took a great amount of will to even force his eyes open, he wasn't sure if he wanted to face the morning. When his bleary eyesight cleared and he got a good look around the bunkroom, he longed to just close them and drift off again, free from worry, doubt… leadership. Instead he swung his other leg over the side of the bunk and jumped down, wincing slightly as the impact jarred sore feet.

The bunkroom was a sight to see, that's for sure. Though filled to the brim with boys, both injured and healthy, this was just an illusion. Spot could see that many of room's usual inhabitants were missing. My God, he muttered to himself. How many didn't return last night?

The chance that the missing boys were all dead was very slim. Still, it was possible that some had lost their lives that night… the attackers had been skillful at wielding the knives they carried, and didn't seem afraid to do permanent damage. But the greater portion of the boys who hadn't returned were most likely alive - maybe unconscious, or unable to walk. Spot closed his eyes briefly, unwilling to confront the product of what he, Brooklyn's leader, had led these boys into.

Others around the room were now rising, stretching from cramped positions on bunks or the floor, wherever they had been able to find room. Suddenly Spot was grateful that the Manhattan boys hadn't chanced the road home - he needed to be surrounded by friendly faces. For the first time in his life, Spot felt very small and alone. It wasn't a feeling he enjoyed.

"Conlon."

Spot looked up from the floor and across the room, meeting Jack's cold gaze. He glanced again at the assembled boys, then made his way over to the cowboy. A familiar smirk rose past his feelings and uncertainty and settled down on his lips, though it failed to reach his eyes.

"Kelly," he answered casually. "What's a b-"

"I think I may know who attacked us last night," he interrupted Spot's quip, deadly serious voice cutting through the light humor like a knife. Spot fell silent for a moment.

"Yeah?" he asked finally. "Tell me about it."

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Mouse peered through half-lidded eyes, watching warily as Jack and Spot meandered away, talking in quiet tones. He allowed a sigh of relief to escape his lips and shifted uncomfortably on the bottom bunk, which he was sharing with two other boys. His eyes fell from Spot's retreating back to Taffy, who lay sleeping on the floor below him. Mouse closed his eyes, ready to fall back asleep, when raised voices alerted his attention again.

"Blink isn't back, and Harlem didn't come to our aid!" Jack argued. Mouse strained his ears.

"Maybe Blink has a girl there! Harlem has always come through for us. There's no way it was them."

"Yeah? Well they weren't there last night."

"So maybe they didn't know. Maybe Mouse never reached th- wait," Spot's voice hardened. Mouse's eyes snapped wide. His mind raced.

"Yes. Let's ask Mouse," Jack agreed, his voice now becoming louder and clearer. Mouse hadn't caught the prior statement, his mind was elsewhere, panicking, yet still planning. Footsteps on the creaky wood approached. With a cry, Mouse rolled off of the bunk and onto Taffy.

"Bastard!" he shrieked. Those few who had still been asleep woke with a jolt and shot confused glances in the scrawny boy's direction. Jack and Spot hurried the rest of the way over. Taffy looked groggily up at Mouse, who was straddling him and gripping his shoulders firmly in his hands. Taffy looked the most confused of all of them. He started to protest, but Mouse silenced him with a good shake of his shoulders.

"What are you doing?" Spot demanded.

"He's betrayed us all!" Mouse cried. Taffy's eyes widened in horror, but Mouse's knee on his throat kept any words he had at bay.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Spot stepped up angrily and glared at Mouse. "He's the one who alerted us!"

"Didn't you think it through?" Mouse asked, fighting down panic as he met Spot's eyes. "You got to Sling just as he was being surrounded. Or so Sling told me." Spot said nothing, but his silence confirmed this. "For Taffy to get from the alley to here, and you all to get from here to the alley… well, he had to have known about the ambush before it even started!"

Jack's face dawned with realization, but Spot's remained cold and doubtful.

"And how did you know this?" he asked.

"I've… I've had a lot of time to think!" Mouse explained hastily. "It just came to me now! And then I noticed that the bastard was daring to sleep right next to me. Like nothing happened between us."

Taffy's eyes glared daggers at him. He avoided them. Curiosity returned to Spot's face.

"What happened between you two?"

"Ghuu othing!" Taffy rasped.

"I never got to go to Harlem," Mouse argued, pressing harder on his captive's windpipe. "Because he stopped me!" He nodded his head towards several bruises and cuts on his body. "Those weren't there yesterday morning."

"And you only told me this now?" Spot asked calmly. "I dunno, Mouse, your story has a lot of holes in it."

'The truth has holes in it then! He knocked me unconscious, of course I couldn't tell you!" Mouse protested. "This is what happened and you can think I'm lying, but we've been betrayed! And we have to root out the betrayer."

"Yeah," a tired voice said. Sling looked down from where he was curled up on a top bunk. "Root out the betrayer." He stared hard at Mouse. Mouse shifted uncomfortably, then turned and looked up at Spot.

Spot fought back a yawn, exhaustion and fatigue threatening to overwhelm him. Though Mouse's story did have its holes, he couldn't deny that Taffy was the most suspicious of the bunch. He crossed the remaining steps to Mouse's side while Jack looked on doubtfully. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

"Get off of him," he ordered Mouse. Mouse started to protest, then realized that he had probably pushed the limits already. He backed away quickly and melted into the slowly growing crowd of onlookers. "Now, you get up," Spot told Taffy. The taller boy obeyed, shaking slightly. Then in a flash of fists and feet he was down again, his hand pressed to a bloody mouth. He spat out a tooth and tried reasoning…

"Spot, please, I-"

Spot cut him off with another blow to the face, then pulled him up and pushed him into the arms of a waiting boy.

"I'm gonna be nice cause I'm in such a good mood today, thanks to you," Spot said tauntingly. "So I'm gonna give you the chance to leave. You'se got about a minute to get out of Brooklyn, and if anyone sees you entering our territory again, they have free reign to do whatever they want."

Murmurs of agreement and satisfaction rippled through the bunkroom. Spot leaned forward, his eyes boring into Taffy's brown ones.

"Go."

Taffy wrenched out of the boy's grasp and fled down the stairs, but not before spitting in Mouse's direction. After a moment Spot nodded to some of the more healthy looking boys near the door. "Follow him," he said quietly. "I don't want to see the bastard again."

Spot felt better after sending Taffy out.. He genuinely felt better. Exercising his power like that always put him on a high. After the boys started dispersing to get cleaned up, leave, or head down to the distribution center, he found Mouse.

"Hey," he said, catching the scrawny boy's attention. "Listen, I believe you, that's all that matters." Mouse nodded quickly in agreement. "Taffy. Never would have thought. But one last thing, do you know who he was working for?" Mouse shook his head.

"No, he never said anything. But he was trying to stop me from going to Harlem, so it can't be them. Maybe the Bronx," he said.

"Yeah… Harlem," Spot mused. He had a headache. "Can you go to Harlem today?"

"Today?! Uhm, I mean, yeah. Yeah, ok."

"Good," Spot said, wincing and rubbing at his temples. He moved off to find the Manhattan newsies before they left, thinking that maybe a drink would help him feel better. It usually did.

Mouse held up his visibly shaking hands and forcefully clenched them into fists.

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More soon? Yeah. Review.