Unless..
Chapter 7
By: Shorty Carter

A strong breeze whipped though her auburn hair as she made her way to the D.O. She smiled at the sight of shouting boys and an angry Weasel, who seemed to get more tomato like with each passing newsie.
"Travel! How you doin'?" Blink yelled, seeing the girl walk in. She grinned, glad to be out and about.
"Not bad, Blink! Heya Race, how's it rollin'?" she asked, walking up to the gambler. He smiled, knocking her hat over her eyes.
"Good to see you moving," he said,talking through his cigar.
"Ha ha, very funny. Hey Sniper, Skitt. How's the thief and the downer?"
"Ain't you the funny one? Glad to see you're still the sharp-tongued girl I knew," Skittery said, slinging an arm around her shoulders.
"Yah, yah. And you can add hot tempered to that if a certain Brooklyn leader shows up," Traveler replied, standing in line.
"Hey Spot! What brings you to Manhattan?" Jack yelled as that certain Brooklyn leader walked into the D.O.
"Speak of the Devil," Traveler muttered, not looking at the leader.
"Came to finish a little business. She is awake, isn't she?" Spot asked, looking around the D.O. Traveler never looked up.
"Yah, she's awake, here too," Boots piped in.
"Note to self, soak Boots at Tibby's," Traveler muttered to herself.
"Heya Travel," someone said behind her. She turned, just barely holding herself against permanently removing that smirk of his.
"Oh hey Spot! When did you decide to grace us with your presence?" she asked, smiling sweetly.
"Since I wondered if you were actually awake or not. Got a few things to settle with you," Spot said, leaning against the wall.
"Yah? Like what?" she asked, curious. Usually when Spot had a few things to settle with her, it meant she'd walk away with very colorful skin.
"Like that I'm sorry," he whispered, not looking at her. Anyone else who heard knew better than to say anything about it. Travel just stood there, mouth open.
"Excuse me? Did I just hear you say sorry? Alright, who are you and where is the real Spot Conlon?" she asked, taking the bull by the horns.
"Yah, you heard me. I'm sorry for treating you like crap. It was.oh what's the word?"
"Wrong? Stupid? Idiotic? Dumb?" she asked, grinning. He looked up, mysterious eyes laughing.
"Yah yah. Shut up already," he said grinning at her.
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I forgive you," she told him, stepping back in line.
"Forgiveness from Traveler Coville? God this day is getting odder by the minute."
"Ansa grop," she said, smiling.
"Which means?" Spot asked.
"You'll figure it out eventually, Conlon." She reached Weasel, holding 50 cents, inspecting it carefully. Weasel looked at the money longingly.
"How many?" he demanded, eyes fixed on the money.
"I don't know if you deserve this, Mr. Weasel. You haven't exactly been nice to anyone, have you?" Traveler asked, flipping the coin.
"How would you know? I haven't even seen you for, what, two days?" Weasel growled.
Translated from Russian to English: "Temper, temper Weasel. If I wanted to, I could kick your sorry ass from here to Russia. But I don't want to, so go fuck a tree, ass hole."
"What did you say?" Weasel demanded, confused and angry.
"100 papes, Mr. Weasel. Then I'll be on my way," she replied, grinning. A snicker came from behind the counter, from a blond haired, blue eyed boy. Weasel turned around, yelling at the boy. The boy's face dropped, his blue eyes looking at Traveler. She knew the boy well; he was a Russian immigrant, and one of Traveler's greatest friends.
"Don't worry Acts, he's just an ass. Meet me tonight?" she yelled to him in Russian. He grinned and nodded, going back to work.
"Way ta show em Travel!" Bumlet's said when she joined the rest of her friends.
"Yah well, someone had to. Come on, we got papes to sell. Who am I sellin' with?" she yelled, rewarded by shouts of, "I want to!"
"Good to know I'm loved! Dutchy, my man! Come on, let's go carry the banner!" With that they left, the streets filing with their shouts.

"I sentence you to 40 years in jail, or a 250 dollar fine. Court adjourned." With that the three men were hauled into the carriage, all of them laughing. "Wow, 40 years," Benny said, grinning madly.
"We'll be out in a week, two tops," John said, laughing loudly.
"They don't even know the whole story. Only 20 people. Ha! We've killed 2 times that!" J.J. yelled, wanting the bulls to gloated.
"Now, where's our next target?" Benny asked. The threesome launched into plans for their next "deal".

Two weeks later the papes reported a jail brake of three men
Two weeks later the newsie strike started
Four weeks later the "deal" was put into action
Four weeks later a girl was thrown into an alley