DISCLAIMER: None of the characters in this story belong to me. They in fact
belong to Disney. However, some exceptions to that last idea are Rosary and
Runner who belong to ME. So please do not sue me all ye Disney supporters
because I am too broke. Oh, and Marcello is mine too. :) And Piper, and
Patches, and Cherry. Ramon is mines too.
A.N. I just want to thank everyone who's been reviewing so far. I'm glad you all are sticking with this story. Things will cook up soon! Enjoy!
When Brooklyn Needed A Rosary
"Did youse read the article on page three?" Runner held one of his copies of the afternoon edition high for all to see and then began reading the column's crude words. "Fifteen year old newsboy shot dead in an alley last night when he was cornered by a gang of Harlem youths. There is no reasons as of yet that support a solid motive, but it is assumed that the deceased boy was allied with an opposing gang. The ones accused of the moider fled the scene upon the arrival of law enforcers but the police believe they will be able tah locate the misguided youths soon with the help of certain sources."
Jack threw the sandwich he was eating back on its plate and sat back in the booth he was currently occupying with Spot, David, Blink, and Snitch. The other Manhattan newsies at Tibby's small restaurant gathered around their leader, anxiously awaiting his response. "This is getting outta hand. We'se aint gotta put up wid this bull. We can end it right now. All we'se needs is a few good fightahs, and we'll show those Harlem bitches whose they's dealin wid heah."
Runner sat down at the booth across from his cousin and shook his head. "Nah, we'se don't want the problem tah escalate."
Snitch fumbled with the buttons on his vest. "How is youse gunna get even? Ya aint gunna hoit the goil, are ya?"
"So what if we do?" Spot snapped, snatching the paper from Runner's hands. "Harlem's killin our newsies by the day and if we'se don't do something about it, they's just gunna keep on slaughtering our friends like cattle!" He stood up and stared into the eyes of several of the boys crowded about. "I don't know about the rest of ya, but I'se feel like storming over tah Harlem, holding a gun tah Marcello's head, and blowing his damn brains out!"
"And youse would be stupid if ya did that!" Runner yelled, despite the nods of agreement, claps, and cheers that became popular all of a sudden. He drew himself up and looked up to stare the Brooklyn leader in the eyes. "Killin him aint gunna solve anything! It's just gunna make things woise. Soon, the whole damn city is gunna be fighting and there'll be even more unnecessary deaths then."
"Yea, well that's a risk I'se willing tah take."
"At what cost? Are youse willing tah risk the lives of your newsies and those of Manhattan, and all the other boroughs that support us just tah see one guy dead? Is he really woith that much? Ya gotta take everything into account; what kinda leadah are youse?"
Spot grabbed Runner by the collar of his shirt with a bitter fierceness, lifted him off the ground, and threw him a yard away into a group of nearby boys. "Ya got anything else tah say now? Cause with talk like that, youse would be the foist scab killed when a fight breaks out! No one wants tah associate with little peacemakers and ya need tah learn that."
Runner glared at his cousin and was about to run forward to strike Spot for the needless embarrassment but he was held back by the others. Spot saw the attempt and sneered. "Ah, let him go. C'mon, Runner, ya wanna fight me? Ya shoah need the practice. C'mon, take a hit." He outstretched his arms and dared the younger boy to accept the challenge.
But Runner merely combed his hair out of his eyes with a hand and exhaled a deep breath to relax himself. "No, cause then I'll be no better than youse. Don't ya see what I'm tryin tah say? Me getting even wid youse only makes the problem woise. But if I'se wise and only stand back, yer forced tah think of other ways tah annoy me, until ya run outta ideas and eventually give up."
"Life doesn't always woik like that," Jack said, trying to calm the tension in the restaurant.
"But sometimes it does," Runner countered. "And I'se thinks that...."
The building's front door slammed open suddenly and in burst two young men with worried looks, panting to catch their breaths. "Is Spot Conlon heah?" Before anyone could answer the question, one of the two strangers caught sight of the infamous leader and ran over to him. "Spot, we'se gots trouble in Queens. Flame was just caught by the bulls and put into the refuge with his second and thoid in command. It's complete anarchy at the lodging house and we'se aint got no one fer an organizer. If Harlem finds out, they's gunna try to seize control and we'se nuthin compared tah them when it comes tah street fighting. I mean, the guys in their gangs is huge; like escape convicts or something!"
Spot cursed under his breath. This was just great, he thought cynically. First Queens' leader is captured by the bulls along with his vice-chiefs, and then random brawls explode throughout his borough-the perfect example of why every newsie district needed someone in command. Just as bad, the first phase of Harlem's plan of domination was commencing, and to make matters worse, Spot just realized that he was stuck with Rosary since Queens was not stable enough to claim her. "The Bronx is the only place I can think of that would be able tah help us. I can't remember a time when they's was ever 'not' fighting. They should be able tah clean up Queens in no time. Go back tah yer borough and try yer best to keep the racket down while I send one of me boids fer help." The boy nodded in thanks and ran out of the restaurant with his companion.
"I'se tellin ya, Conlon," Jack said, "we'se gotta show Harlem their place in this woild."
Spot smirked. "Actually, I'se gots something else in mind fer one of me favorite newsies." He looked at Runner with an unreadable expression, but the younger knew it meant trouble for him. "What if we'se were tah send a sort of spy tah Harlem? He wouldn't observe them from afar; he would actually be a part of them. He'll sell wid them, eat wid them, live wid them, and learn everything they's plotting against us. They's might suspect something at foist, but after a few days pass and there aint no betrayal, they'll become trusting, and start shedding light on all their schemes. Once that's done, our little fraud comes back tah us, explains the deal, and then we'se decide what tah do from there."
Blink stepped into the middle of the crowd. "I don't know, that's a bit risky, Spot. Harlem aint full of idiots and if they knows youse double- crossing them, they get real dangerous as we'se all already know."
"And there's no guarantee that they'll share everything with our spy," David added from where he sat. "There's too many consequences outweighing the advantages of the idea and I don't think we should go through with it."
Jack shrugged. "Honestly, I kinda like it. It gives us the upper hand in both our schemes and theirs. What do we'se gots tah lose?"
"Someone's life!" Runner exclaimed. He could not believe some of the newsies were actually considering it. It seemed as if David and Blink were the only ones with sense in this neighborhood!
"That's where youse come in," Spot laughed, resting his hands on Runner's shoulders. "Since youse believe so earnestly in the principles that multiple lives should not be risked, we'se only gunna risk one. And since yer the one who proposed the idea of peace, you get tah be that lucky go-getter!"
Runner's jaw dropped open when Spot got another cheer from his admirers. Why did they so willingly give their consent to his decisions without considering the negative outcomes that would arise? However, there was nothing Runner could do at that point. If he refused to be Spot's pawn, then Manhattan and Brooklyn would be driven by their passion for revenge. He had to go through with the perilous task, if only for the well-being of those who stood in the way of Harlem's climb to supremacy.
* * * * *
"So if I were to run away right now, neither of you would care?"
"Of course not! Hell, if Spot was acting like me overseer, I'se would runaway in a heartbeat." Patches, named so because of the patches of freckles on her cheeks, pulled back her short brown hair into a ponytail and laughed. "Truthfully, he isn't that bad once ya get tah know him. But the foist few days of being in his company is pure torture. When I became a newsie a few years ago, he was such a joik tah me, and kept testing me in selling and sling shooting, and all the other Brooklyn crap, as if I had tah prove myself tah him. I never put up a fight, though, and now he's like a brother tah me!"
Rosary smiled and stood aside as the girl sold a paper to a passerby. Being kept imprisoned in Brooklyn, she did not have to sell papers to earn a salary from which she would otherwise need to pay for lodging; Spot was paying her fare. She did not know whether that was a miracle or not. The was he had treated her as of late, she thought he would raise the prices of lodging exclusively for her and then make her pay a week's fee in advance.
"I don't get why he's so popular wid all the goils," a tall girl named Cherry with black curly hair commented. "I think it's his eyes that draw them in, cause he shoah as hell aint got no charm!"
Patches playfully pushed the girl and shook her head with a grin. "Nah, I bet Spot's an angel when he's wid a goil he wants tah take home. But ya know who's a real charmer? His cousin, Runner." A dreamy look passed over her eyes and for a few seconds, she dazed off, lost in a dream world of her own.
"He's too young fer me," said Cherry. "I like the older men, the more sophisticated ones. I visited this college in Manhattan once, and the place was flooded with good-looking boys wid brains!"
The three girls continued sharing jokes and gossip as they approached Central Park. As hunger rose in their stomachs, Patches and Cherry suggested that they grab a bite to eat at a nearby vendor. Once they obtained their food, they sat a bench on the park and devoured their meals as if it would be their last. Rosary nibbled at a pretzel absentmindedly until a boy in a grey coat and hat standing before the steps of a bookstore caught her attention. He looked rather familiar and she excused herself from Patches and Cherry, saying she would return in a moment's time after she purchased a piece of fruit to soothe a new appetite that had befallen her.
She casually made her way to the boy and as she neared him, she realized he was one of the older boys from Marcello's brood of newsies. "Ramon, what are you doing here?!"
He pulled her into the bookstore, afraid that the Manhattan newsgirls would see him talking with Rosary. "Me and Marcello went tah yer mother's house this morning fer breakfast. She said ya hadn't come home last night, and we'se instantly knew what happened. It was them bastards from Queens, wasn't it? So we'se killed one of their scabs so that they'd know not tah mess wid youse."
Rosary covered her mouth with her hands and looked at him stunned. "Oh my god, that is so horrible!" She fell back into a leather couch situated at one of the bookstore's corners and whined. "That is so horrible! Queens didn't kidnap me, Ramon! You jumped to conclusions and now someone is dead, some innocent person is dead! I can't believe this!"
Ramon kneeled down in front of her and took her hands in his own. "Listen, goil, we'se can't afford tah not jump to conclusions no more. We go by instinct nowadays, and if someone innocent gets hoit because of it, than that's just how life goes."
"Please take me home, I don't want to hear another minute of this! Mama needs to know what Marcello is getting himself into." She started to rise, but Ramon pushed her back down into the seat.
"Babe, I'se can't take ya back home just yet. Foist, I need tah know something. If Queens didn't kidnap ya, then who did?"
"Brooklyn."
His eyes seemed to flare up with hatred. "Ya mean Spot Conlon's crew? This is poifect! Yer brother was planning to slit his throat sooner or latah, might as well be sooner."
"What are you talking about?" Rosary was disgusted by the vivid graphics and wanted nothing more than to be in the company of her family and cry onto the pillow of her own bed.
"Youse is gunna hate me fer this," Ramon began, "but I think it would be best fer youse tah stay here in Brooklyn, only because you'd be doing Harlem a favor." She opened her mouth to object but he placed his fingers upon her lips and proceeded with his explanation. "Harlem is tryin tah figure out which borough tah sack foist. Knowing they's all allied together by now, we'se desperate to know what they's planning so that we can take them by surprise. The only way tah do this was tah bribe someone within their crowd and get answers from them. But youse just made it so much easier. Say you were tah floit wid Spot and get him tah chase after ya. Youse would win his trust and he would spill all tah youse. Afterwards, ya come back home and tell yer brother all the details. Whaddya think?"
"I hate you," she said with utter resent. "How could you put me up to this? I want to go home! I hate Brooklyn and everything having to do with Spot. What makes you think I want to play pretend and be his girl?"
"Listen, ya don't want any more people tah get hoit, right?" She nodded. "Well, this is the best way to make shoah that doesn't happen. The more information ya get for us, the less people we'll have tah kill. How's that sound?"
She pushed him away and crossed her arms. "I've always disliked you. From the time we first met, I knew you were a snake. But I only want the best for Marcello; I don't want him to worsen his life. I'll do what you say, but promise me that you'll come take me home when it's all done."
"Look! Your friends are coming tah look fer youse!" He slapped money into her hands, chose a book from a shelf beside him, and threw it into her arms. "Buy this, so that they's think that choosing something was what took ya so long! I'se gotta go, I'll talk tah youse latah!" He hurried to the back of the store and exited the building through the employee's entrance.
Rosary looked down at the book she was to buy. 'Crime and Punishment'. What a fitting title for my predicament, she thought to herself.
* * * * *
WoWzErZ! That was a long chapter, but you guys wanted action and a thickening plot so I gave it to you! So I did my part, now it's up to you guys to do yours. PLEASE REVIEW! REVIEWS are the best thing in the world and I would like to hear from you guys so I can know what you thought about this chapter and how this story's going so far. C'mon, just take out a few seconds and throw me a bone! :) REVIEW!
A.N. I just want to thank everyone who's been reviewing so far. I'm glad you all are sticking with this story. Things will cook up soon! Enjoy!
When Brooklyn Needed A Rosary
"Did youse read the article on page three?" Runner held one of his copies of the afternoon edition high for all to see and then began reading the column's crude words. "Fifteen year old newsboy shot dead in an alley last night when he was cornered by a gang of Harlem youths. There is no reasons as of yet that support a solid motive, but it is assumed that the deceased boy was allied with an opposing gang. The ones accused of the moider fled the scene upon the arrival of law enforcers but the police believe they will be able tah locate the misguided youths soon with the help of certain sources."
Jack threw the sandwich he was eating back on its plate and sat back in the booth he was currently occupying with Spot, David, Blink, and Snitch. The other Manhattan newsies at Tibby's small restaurant gathered around their leader, anxiously awaiting his response. "This is getting outta hand. We'se aint gotta put up wid this bull. We can end it right now. All we'se needs is a few good fightahs, and we'll show those Harlem bitches whose they's dealin wid heah."
Runner sat down at the booth across from his cousin and shook his head. "Nah, we'se don't want the problem tah escalate."
Snitch fumbled with the buttons on his vest. "How is youse gunna get even? Ya aint gunna hoit the goil, are ya?"
"So what if we do?" Spot snapped, snatching the paper from Runner's hands. "Harlem's killin our newsies by the day and if we'se don't do something about it, they's just gunna keep on slaughtering our friends like cattle!" He stood up and stared into the eyes of several of the boys crowded about. "I don't know about the rest of ya, but I'se feel like storming over tah Harlem, holding a gun tah Marcello's head, and blowing his damn brains out!"
"And youse would be stupid if ya did that!" Runner yelled, despite the nods of agreement, claps, and cheers that became popular all of a sudden. He drew himself up and looked up to stare the Brooklyn leader in the eyes. "Killin him aint gunna solve anything! It's just gunna make things woise. Soon, the whole damn city is gunna be fighting and there'll be even more unnecessary deaths then."
"Yea, well that's a risk I'se willing tah take."
"At what cost? Are youse willing tah risk the lives of your newsies and those of Manhattan, and all the other boroughs that support us just tah see one guy dead? Is he really woith that much? Ya gotta take everything into account; what kinda leadah are youse?"
Spot grabbed Runner by the collar of his shirt with a bitter fierceness, lifted him off the ground, and threw him a yard away into a group of nearby boys. "Ya got anything else tah say now? Cause with talk like that, youse would be the foist scab killed when a fight breaks out! No one wants tah associate with little peacemakers and ya need tah learn that."
Runner glared at his cousin and was about to run forward to strike Spot for the needless embarrassment but he was held back by the others. Spot saw the attempt and sneered. "Ah, let him go. C'mon, Runner, ya wanna fight me? Ya shoah need the practice. C'mon, take a hit." He outstretched his arms and dared the younger boy to accept the challenge.
But Runner merely combed his hair out of his eyes with a hand and exhaled a deep breath to relax himself. "No, cause then I'll be no better than youse. Don't ya see what I'm tryin tah say? Me getting even wid youse only makes the problem woise. But if I'se wise and only stand back, yer forced tah think of other ways tah annoy me, until ya run outta ideas and eventually give up."
"Life doesn't always woik like that," Jack said, trying to calm the tension in the restaurant.
"But sometimes it does," Runner countered. "And I'se thinks that...."
The building's front door slammed open suddenly and in burst two young men with worried looks, panting to catch their breaths. "Is Spot Conlon heah?" Before anyone could answer the question, one of the two strangers caught sight of the infamous leader and ran over to him. "Spot, we'se gots trouble in Queens. Flame was just caught by the bulls and put into the refuge with his second and thoid in command. It's complete anarchy at the lodging house and we'se aint got no one fer an organizer. If Harlem finds out, they's gunna try to seize control and we'se nuthin compared tah them when it comes tah street fighting. I mean, the guys in their gangs is huge; like escape convicts or something!"
Spot cursed under his breath. This was just great, he thought cynically. First Queens' leader is captured by the bulls along with his vice-chiefs, and then random brawls explode throughout his borough-the perfect example of why every newsie district needed someone in command. Just as bad, the first phase of Harlem's plan of domination was commencing, and to make matters worse, Spot just realized that he was stuck with Rosary since Queens was not stable enough to claim her. "The Bronx is the only place I can think of that would be able tah help us. I can't remember a time when they's was ever 'not' fighting. They should be able tah clean up Queens in no time. Go back tah yer borough and try yer best to keep the racket down while I send one of me boids fer help." The boy nodded in thanks and ran out of the restaurant with his companion.
"I'se tellin ya, Conlon," Jack said, "we'se gotta show Harlem their place in this woild."
Spot smirked. "Actually, I'se gots something else in mind fer one of me favorite newsies." He looked at Runner with an unreadable expression, but the younger knew it meant trouble for him. "What if we'se were tah send a sort of spy tah Harlem? He wouldn't observe them from afar; he would actually be a part of them. He'll sell wid them, eat wid them, live wid them, and learn everything they's plotting against us. They's might suspect something at foist, but after a few days pass and there aint no betrayal, they'll become trusting, and start shedding light on all their schemes. Once that's done, our little fraud comes back tah us, explains the deal, and then we'se decide what tah do from there."
Blink stepped into the middle of the crowd. "I don't know, that's a bit risky, Spot. Harlem aint full of idiots and if they knows youse double- crossing them, they get real dangerous as we'se all already know."
"And there's no guarantee that they'll share everything with our spy," David added from where he sat. "There's too many consequences outweighing the advantages of the idea and I don't think we should go through with it."
Jack shrugged. "Honestly, I kinda like it. It gives us the upper hand in both our schemes and theirs. What do we'se gots tah lose?"
"Someone's life!" Runner exclaimed. He could not believe some of the newsies were actually considering it. It seemed as if David and Blink were the only ones with sense in this neighborhood!
"That's where youse come in," Spot laughed, resting his hands on Runner's shoulders. "Since youse believe so earnestly in the principles that multiple lives should not be risked, we'se only gunna risk one. And since yer the one who proposed the idea of peace, you get tah be that lucky go-getter!"
Runner's jaw dropped open when Spot got another cheer from his admirers. Why did they so willingly give their consent to his decisions without considering the negative outcomes that would arise? However, there was nothing Runner could do at that point. If he refused to be Spot's pawn, then Manhattan and Brooklyn would be driven by their passion for revenge. He had to go through with the perilous task, if only for the well-being of those who stood in the way of Harlem's climb to supremacy.
* * * * *
"So if I were to run away right now, neither of you would care?"
"Of course not! Hell, if Spot was acting like me overseer, I'se would runaway in a heartbeat." Patches, named so because of the patches of freckles on her cheeks, pulled back her short brown hair into a ponytail and laughed. "Truthfully, he isn't that bad once ya get tah know him. But the foist few days of being in his company is pure torture. When I became a newsie a few years ago, he was such a joik tah me, and kept testing me in selling and sling shooting, and all the other Brooklyn crap, as if I had tah prove myself tah him. I never put up a fight, though, and now he's like a brother tah me!"
Rosary smiled and stood aside as the girl sold a paper to a passerby. Being kept imprisoned in Brooklyn, she did not have to sell papers to earn a salary from which she would otherwise need to pay for lodging; Spot was paying her fare. She did not know whether that was a miracle or not. The was he had treated her as of late, she thought he would raise the prices of lodging exclusively for her and then make her pay a week's fee in advance.
"I don't get why he's so popular wid all the goils," a tall girl named Cherry with black curly hair commented. "I think it's his eyes that draw them in, cause he shoah as hell aint got no charm!"
Patches playfully pushed the girl and shook her head with a grin. "Nah, I bet Spot's an angel when he's wid a goil he wants tah take home. But ya know who's a real charmer? His cousin, Runner." A dreamy look passed over her eyes and for a few seconds, she dazed off, lost in a dream world of her own.
"He's too young fer me," said Cherry. "I like the older men, the more sophisticated ones. I visited this college in Manhattan once, and the place was flooded with good-looking boys wid brains!"
The three girls continued sharing jokes and gossip as they approached Central Park. As hunger rose in their stomachs, Patches and Cherry suggested that they grab a bite to eat at a nearby vendor. Once they obtained their food, they sat a bench on the park and devoured their meals as if it would be their last. Rosary nibbled at a pretzel absentmindedly until a boy in a grey coat and hat standing before the steps of a bookstore caught her attention. He looked rather familiar and she excused herself from Patches and Cherry, saying she would return in a moment's time after she purchased a piece of fruit to soothe a new appetite that had befallen her.
She casually made her way to the boy and as she neared him, she realized he was one of the older boys from Marcello's brood of newsies. "Ramon, what are you doing here?!"
He pulled her into the bookstore, afraid that the Manhattan newsgirls would see him talking with Rosary. "Me and Marcello went tah yer mother's house this morning fer breakfast. She said ya hadn't come home last night, and we'se instantly knew what happened. It was them bastards from Queens, wasn't it? So we'se killed one of their scabs so that they'd know not tah mess wid youse."
Rosary covered her mouth with her hands and looked at him stunned. "Oh my god, that is so horrible!" She fell back into a leather couch situated at one of the bookstore's corners and whined. "That is so horrible! Queens didn't kidnap me, Ramon! You jumped to conclusions and now someone is dead, some innocent person is dead! I can't believe this!"
Ramon kneeled down in front of her and took her hands in his own. "Listen, goil, we'se can't afford tah not jump to conclusions no more. We go by instinct nowadays, and if someone innocent gets hoit because of it, than that's just how life goes."
"Please take me home, I don't want to hear another minute of this! Mama needs to know what Marcello is getting himself into." She started to rise, but Ramon pushed her back down into the seat.
"Babe, I'se can't take ya back home just yet. Foist, I need tah know something. If Queens didn't kidnap ya, then who did?"
"Brooklyn."
His eyes seemed to flare up with hatred. "Ya mean Spot Conlon's crew? This is poifect! Yer brother was planning to slit his throat sooner or latah, might as well be sooner."
"What are you talking about?" Rosary was disgusted by the vivid graphics and wanted nothing more than to be in the company of her family and cry onto the pillow of her own bed.
"Youse is gunna hate me fer this," Ramon began, "but I think it would be best fer youse tah stay here in Brooklyn, only because you'd be doing Harlem a favor." She opened her mouth to object but he placed his fingers upon her lips and proceeded with his explanation. "Harlem is tryin tah figure out which borough tah sack foist. Knowing they's all allied together by now, we'se desperate to know what they's planning so that we can take them by surprise. The only way tah do this was tah bribe someone within their crowd and get answers from them. But youse just made it so much easier. Say you were tah floit wid Spot and get him tah chase after ya. Youse would win his trust and he would spill all tah youse. Afterwards, ya come back home and tell yer brother all the details. Whaddya think?"
"I hate you," she said with utter resent. "How could you put me up to this? I want to go home! I hate Brooklyn and everything having to do with Spot. What makes you think I want to play pretend and be his girl?"
"Listen, ya don't want any more people tah get hoit, right?" She nodded. "Well, this is the best way to make shoah that doesn't happen. The more information ya get for us, the less people we'll have tah kill. How's that sound?"
She pushed him away and crossed her arms. "I've always disliked you. From the time we first met, I knew you were a snake. But I only want the best for Marcello; I don't want him to worsen his life. I'll do what you say, but promise me that you'll come take me home when it's all done."
"Look! Your friends are coming tah look fer youse!" He slapped money into her hands, chose a book from a shelf beside him, and threw it into her arms. "Buy this, so that they's think that choosing something was what took ya so long! I'se gotta go, I'll talk tah youse latah!" He hurried to the back of the store and exited the building through the employee's entrance.
Rosary looked down at the book she was to buy. 'Crime and Punishment'. What a fitting title for my predicament, she thought to herself.
* * * * *
WoWzErZ! That was a long chapter, but you guys wanted action and a thickening plot so I gave it to you! So I did my part, now it's up to you guys to do yours. PLEASE REVIEW! REVIEWS are the best thing in the world and I would like to hear from you guys so I can know what you thought about this chapter and how this story's going so far. C'mon, just take out a few seconds and throw me a bone! :) REVIEW!