Marta, Trout, Nips and Race hurried their way and towards Red Hook and the Fox's Lair to the butcher shop. Haystack wasn't there yet, but there was no telling how far he had to follow the wagon before he could scope the new location out as well to let them know what they were up against. Even with all he had to see and remember, it wasn't long before they heard the long low note and then one that swept up from low to high, letting them know he was there with news for them and saw him waving them up onto the roof of a nearby building. "He's at a tenement about twenty minutes from here. It's condemned so its empty and they're on the eighth floor. All of the windows that you could get to from the fire escapes are nailed shut on the inside and Mick has guys posted at all of the doors, the bottoms of the fire escapes and one on the roof. Most of them though are on the eighth floor, one guy in each apartment and Mick is waiting with the blonde girl in the apartment at the end of the hall."
"Where is Clarice?" Kisser asked.
"She's the sixth apartment, but Rudy, the second, is in the hallway. He has to call out to Mick each time Spot clears a room. She's the one who let me know the windows were nailed shut. Spot just went into the first room when I ran." Stack paused, looking uncomfortable. "He didn't look good, Kiss. He looked kinda crazy."
"That bastard," she grunted, her voice thick with tears as the pieces of Mick's plan fit together in her head. The significance of the tenement building was not lost on her or Trout. He had his eyes closed and his head turned away. They'd both seen him with that look before, when the memories of his youngest days took control and he didn't seem to know what was real. It hurt them to know that Mick was putting him in that kind of state on purpose. .
Race looked between the group of Brooklynites, confused, hoping someone would explain what they were talking about. He still hadn't fully forgiven Trout for keeping his secret for so long, but was trying to keep his promise and help them. "Care to enlighten the rest of us, Ya Majesty?" She had him by his collar, his upper body hanging over into the empty space below before he could say another word. Her knee dug into his thigh, pinning him to the slightly raised ledge around the roof. Her face was close to his, her eyes that terrifying gold like a lioness on a hunt. Her knee and the collar of a threadbare shirt were the only things between him and a headlong plummet to the cobblestones below.
"Never. EVER. Call me 'your majesty' again," she hissed in a dangerous, low whisper.
"Ok! Ok! Lemme up!" he yelped.
"Kiss," Trout said gently, pulling at her elbow. It sounded like Kit, but no one corrected him when he started saying it. "Up."
"There won't be a warning next time," she growled, pulling Racetrack back to his feet and pushing him into Trout. "He's tried to recreate what Spot ran from when he was little, the place that he's trapped in when he has nightmares." She drifted like a boat without a mooring to the other side of the roof, away from the boys. She needed to be away from them and their joking, to think without them interrupting. Mick didn't just want Spot to die during the fight, he wanted Spot stripped of everything he was if he came out the other side. He planned a full scale attack on the few fragile emotions Spot had left after his life before the newsies.
Through years of waking up to his wild and vivid dreams, she pieced together a vague understanding of what he experienced before she found him. Likely the same understanding that Mick put together. She shuffled the pieces of information in her head like tarot cards, the old with the new, hoping that she could deal them out and make sense of them before Spot's time ran out.
"Kiss," Trout called her again, pulling her away from her mental tarot deck. He spread a paper out in front of her, showing her a detailed mapping of the tenement and surrounding buildings. It was thorough and well drawn, just like the one he drew her to show her where the Brownstone was in relation to the tavern. He and Haystack both made notes, Stack's more hurried and younger handwriting looking distinctly different from Trout's very uniform and controlled script. She drank in all the information and the cards started to fall into the right place. At the bottom, Nips wrote need diversion, ambush them. She held her hand out for the pencil and crossed out "ambush them," circling "diversion." Her cards finally dealt in a way that didn't spell death for all of them. Finally, there was hope.
"We need enough of a diversion to get into the building, but not one that will alert any of the other Dockside Boys, especially Mick, that we are there."
"Then I guess its good that us Manhattan boys don't follow orders like good little Brookies," Mush called cheekily as he hauled himself up onto the roof. Itey, Snipeshooter and a few of the older Brooklyn boys, Red, Lonny and Mook followed suite, grinning sheepishly. "We can throw them off while you get in!"
Race cracked a grin, still peaked from his earlier brush with death. "Its true, its why we don't really bother with the whole leader business. We all know that ain't none of us gonna listen anyways!" He and Mush shook hands, while all of the Brooklynites looked guiltily towards Marta.
She bristled, her eyes blazing at their insubordination. Her jaw was set and squared and her lips pressed into a thin, pale line, but Trout grabbed her hand, slipping a scrap of paper in it. Let us help. You're not alone this time. She stared at the handwriting, the last words knocking the wind out of her every time her eyes fell on them. She lifter her gaze to his face, her eyes defensive, scared and trying to hold back tears of shame. That secret was supposed to die with Scatter. I know, he signed, his eyes sad and apologetic. He wasn't supposed to know! She looked warily at the other boys and back to him, but he shook his head, only the two of them knew. Only the two of them would know if he had anything to say about it. Please, he signed and she drew in a shaking breath, swallowing back the bile that was rising in her throat and burning the back of her tongue.
Her voice was hoarse and tight when she spoke, "If we all make it out of this, you seven are in for a good soaking."
Nips grinned, "You got it, Kiss, now whats the plan?"
She spread Trout's diagram out on the rooftop and they all crouched around it while she gave them their jobs and their places. "The only thing we don't have is our diversion and our way in," she mused once they were all clear on their jobs once they did get it. "Where he's placed his boys shows that he knows Spot and I and how we operate well. He expects us to try to take the fire escapes or use our numbers to storm the front door. I'd bet the first two floors are crawling with Dockside boys, maybe even some borrowed thugs from other allied gangs. He's expecting us, but he thinks he's covered our only ways to get in."
"So we need onto the roof," Nips continued, pointing out how the building to the left was close enough to building hop. "Stack, is there access to building once we're on the roof, or does that put us back at the fire escape?"
Haystack thought for a moment before his face lit up, "If the building weren't condemned, it would be a problem. The roofs rotten, full of unofficial access points. I heard the guys say that they were glad they didn't get chosen for roof duty because they didn't want to be the one who fell through. So now you just gotta get onto the roof without the guard telling the other Dockside guys, and make a controlled entrance into the building. I'm pretty sure we'd be boned if you all fell through the roof onto the lower floor."
Trout looked over to Race with his bright eyes glowing mischievously. "What?" Race asked. Trout nodded his head to Mush, and Race stared blankly at his curly haired friend for a moment before a similar grin spread over his face. "You brilliant bastard, Trout, its perfect!"
Mush seemed to catch on to what they were hinting at and began shaking his head vehemently. "Nuh-uh, no way Race. I ain't doing that again. I got locked up for two weeks!"
"Keep ya shirt on, none of the GANG MEMBERS is gonna call da bulls on you and Trout's right, its a perfect diversion!"
"Care to enlighten the rest of us, Higgins?" Marta asked boredly, mocking him with his own words.
He grinned, "So me and Mush, Blink, Jack, Trout and Spot is all at this dance and Blink and me is flirting with these girls, beautiful girls, my gal was a redhead with these green eyes and Blink's had dark hair, big brown eyes, skin so perfect and pretty that…" Trout rolled his eyes as Race's glazed over and went hazy and he smacked his friend in the gut to pull I'm out of his hormone hazed memory. "Right! Right, so Blink says something to this dame and she starts screaming and slapping and pushes Blink into this big ass, drunk guy…"
"The abbreviated version, Racetrack or Spot will be either dead or fully initiated into Dockside before you manage to make a point," Marta pressed, her patience with him running dangerously thin.
"Long story short, we was surrounded and then Mush jumps up on the bar, yanks his pants down and slaps his own ass. All those Bozos was so shocked at Mushy's brown ass hanging out for the world to see that we was able to get outta there."
"Yeah," Mush deadpanned, "it was really great going to the refuge for two weeks for you guys so you could flirt with a girl just to never talk to her again."
"How does this help us?" Marta asked, she was irritated now. They were wasting precious moments on this asinine story.
"Mush is gonna bare his cheeks again and Red, Mook and Lonny will knock him out with marbles from their slingshots while he's busy staring," Race answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Mush's ass is your genius plan?"
"You got something better, Sweetheart?" No one missed the flinch as he realized how close his big mouth was getting him to seeing what her trademark left jab felt like.
He was saved by Mush's quiet voice. "Why don't you just shoot pebbles to bring the guy to the edge, then bean him with a marble while Trout jumps over. He can knock the guy out while the others jump," Mush suggested. "My ass never sees any action, just the way I like it."
"Thank you, Mush, for coming up with a plan that isn't completely moronic. Lets hope the the goon on the roof is as stupid as Racetrack so we can get past him easily." Marta rolled her eyes and began giving orders to her shooters.
Trout looked at Race, grinning triumphantly and signed She likes you.
Race scowled and gave Trout a shove while he blushed a deep fuchsia, "Shut up, Trout, it was your idea first." Trout stifled a laugh at his pouting friends expense.
With their plans made and everyone clear on what their job was once they reached the building, they climbed down the ladder. Marta and Trout held back until they were the last ones on the roof. "You know that plan was absolutely idiotic, right?" she asked wondering why he would feed the memory to Race and let him propose it as his own idea. He answered her with a wicked grin that she returned wryly as realization dawned on her. "But it made Race smile and got him back for giving you the cold shoulder for the past few days all at the same time?"
Two birds, Trout signed. She paused again, studying him, seeing how much straighter he stood these past few days, how often he smiled, how he signed more frequently and without looking down when he did it. There was a confidence about him that never was there before unless he was at Spot's flank. It was all his own.
"Did you know we'd end up doing what Mush said?" He quirked an eyebrow at her and smirked and she could almost hear his voice, full and clear, thinking Wouldn't you like to know? "Spot and I have rubbed off on you over the years, kid. You're an evil genius in disguise."
He chuckled and started down the ladder so that they could follow Haystack to the decaying tenement building. They swiftly made their way through the streets, using every shortcut they knew, and climbed up to the roof of the building next to the one crawling with big, greasy, and non-too-pleased looking Dockside gang members. They slithered across the rooftop on their bellies, discarding their coats and hats in a corner. The cold air prickled their skin, but they were kept warm by the anticipation boiling in their guts. On the other neighboring rooftop Red, Lonny and Mook were doing the same, finding the best places to line up their shots. Haystack and the extra Manhattanites were with Marta and her crew, but would wait on the roof for a call for help. Marta raised her hands to her mouth, cupped like she held something between them, and blew between her thumbs. An airy, sad, mourning dove call came out, signaling to the shooters that they were ready. Trout crouched, ready to run and make the leap. "Tuck and roll, buddy," Race said, patting him on the back.
They heard the pebbles skip across the roof, and the heavy footfalls of the guard moving away from them. As soon as he heard the "oof!" of the marble hitting its mark, Trout took off running, easily breaching the gap and rolling over his shoulder and somersaulting to his feet on the other side. The guard was up and holding his eye while blood oozed out between his fingers, but Trout didn't hesitate to sink a punch into his gut or shove his knee into his forehead, knocking him out. He stayed low and waited, listening carefully for any sign that the guys posted lower on the fire escapes heard the scuffle. Another bird call signaled the all clear for him and he made his way slowly back towards them, feeling how spongey and week the roof was under his hands and knees. There was a spot that seemed firm right where he landed and he waved them over.
"You first, Kiss," Nips whispered, patting her gently on the back. She ran and leapt over but wasn't quick enough with her tuck, landing one one foot like a dancer. The roof swallowed her leg down to her knee and she swallowed back the cry that threatened to force its way up her throat. She sat down as Trout rushed to her side, digging his hand into the wet wood to break it away and pulling her out of the hole by her armpits.
I'm sorry! he signed.
"Its not your fault that I didn't tuck and roll, Trout," she grunted as Race and Nips made their way over, each managing to lighten their landing enough to not meet her same fate. Trout gave her a withering look as she smiled, trying to convince him that it wasn't his fault that she managed to find a weak spot he missed. He pulled his outer shirt off as they inspected the deep gashes in her leg before wrapping the shirt around it and tying it tightly. Nips crawled around until he found a hole big enough for them to drop down into the building though.
"The floor below is rotten too, so we'll have to swing over to the dry part, but its our best bet," he said as they joined him. "Let's get in quick before anyone else falls through. I don't trust this shithole to hold all four of us at once for long. As if the building was agreeing with him, the wet boards underneath them gave a threatening groan.
"Throw me first," Race whispered. "I'm littler than you two and then I can help Kiss down." They lowered him down through the hole and swung him over onto the dry, less rotten part of the tenth floor below. Then they lowered Marta down by her arms and did the same. Race grabbed her waist and softened her landing. Nips and Trout laid a board over the hole and each lowered themselves onto it like a trapeze bar before swinging down next to the others. They breathed a sigh of relief; they were in. After a quick check of the stairs they made their way down the two stories and watched Rudy pace the long hallway from behind silently. The corridor was dark and dank despite the bright sunlight out the window at the end of the hall, but it smelled of decay and mildew. The walls were yellowed with age and tobacco smoke. Marta shivered as she thought about what Mick could come up with using this place as a starting point. She could hear the grunts and faint smacks of skin hitting skin and wondered which apartment Spot was in, whether he would still be himself when he came out of that next door, or whether he would be an empty vessel for Mick to abuse as he pleased.
A/N: I had fun berating Racetrack and letting the boys be average seventeen year old boys, being dumbasses at inappropriate times. The girls in Race's grand idea are a nod to my friend Joker is Poker with a J, and are the girls that Blink and Race eventually fall for in her Benjamin Hotel series (which you should check out and review and favorite if you haven't already! As well as reviewing and following here! Writers like reviews...really we do. Don't make me beg, it wont be pretty) Thank you to Joker and livelearnlovesing for your reviews. since I haven't said thank you in a few chapters! Next time, we check in on Spot in the apartment brawls and see how he's doing, if you're curious about what Marta and Trout mean that they've seen him in the state that Mick is putting him in, where he's kinda crazy, check out my companion piece Spitshakes and Slingshots. The info is all there for you and more will come...especially now that I actually have a plot for that story and am not just using it as an excuse to write happy Kisser and Scat scenes while I mourned Scat's passing.