Three weeks later

"You ready?"

My conversation with Myron was interrupted with a soft punch to the back of the shoulder, my attention shooting over to Hotshot who was smirking at me. I shot him an identical smirk and crossed my arms. "That depends. Are you ready to lose again?"

"Oh, she's got you there, Hotshot." Myron let out a hearty laugh as Hotshot rolled his eyes, waving a hand to follow him as he turned around. "Save the shit talking for the ring."

I laughed softly as I looked over at Myron, his shoulders shrugging as he shoved his hands in his pockets and followed behind Hotshot. I took a deep breath in before a smile overtook my face, moving quickly to catch up with both of them. As we reached the end of the one of the docks where the makeshift fighting ring was, a few sets of eyes landed on me. The newsies standing around all smirked at us as they looked between Hotshot in the front and me right behind him. Myron let out a few hoots and whistles to let everyone know what was going on.

Hotshot stopped at the end of the dock and then turned around, kicking a piece of wood out of the ring as he crossed his arms. "Two minutes. First person to subdue the otha wins."

"What am I supposed to do with the other minute and 50 seconds?" I sent Hotshot a cocky look as he rolled his eyes at me, a small smile making its way onto his face. "Smartass."

I let out a soft laugh as I removed the black news cap from my head, handing it over to Myron before cuffing the sleeves of my dark red button-up shirt to my elbows. I watched as Hotshot cracked his neck from the other side of the ring, his arms circling around him as he paced. A few more newsies joined the spectators already sitting around us as I pulled my long, dark brown hair up into a ponytail, pushing a few stray pieces away from my face. A few murmurs from the crowd caught my attention and I looked out into the crowd, a certain face making my breath hitch in my throat.

Spot didn't always show up to the practice fights his men always had, but when he did there was a lot more pressure riding on those involved. Winning a fight against another meant a possible promotion, and with me — the only girl in the Brooklyn newsies — going against Hotshot, Spot's right-hand man, it meant even more pressure to impress the boss.

"Don't pay attention to him. You're staring." Myron's face came into my line of vision and knocked me back to reality, his hand moving up to push the bottom of my jaw closed. I felt a slight blush hit my face as Myron smirked at me, his hands patting down my arms as he spoke. "You got this. You've beaten Hotshot so many times before. He's all shit-talker and no action."

I let out a laugh at Myron as I nodded, pushing him away from me and back towards the sidelines. "Oh, yeah. Only this time Spot's here and-"

I felt the rush of air leave my body as I choked, doubling over and falling onto one knee. A round of jeers sounded out around the ring as I looked up, my eyes focusing on the smug face of Hotshot as he kissed the fist he held in front of him.

"Hey, asshole! No cheap shots!" Myron's face morphed into a look of pure anger as Hotshot waved him off, putting his fists up again. "Tell that to the guy who's gonna jump ya when ya least expect it."

I placed a hand on the left side of my ribs as I slowly stood straight again, glaring at Hotshot. Two can play at this game.

I threw my ponytail over my right shoulder and stretched my neck to the right, hearing it audibly crack in response. I swept my right arm in front of me, beckoning Hotshot into my personal space again, and smirked. "Come on then."

If there was one thing Hotshot didn't like it was being openly mocked. The anger that boiled up behind his eyes was evident and I knew I got him right where I needed him. I heard a low growl emit from his throat as he rushed towards me, throwing a fist out in front of him. I nimbly dodged out of the way and smiled, turning towards him and throwing my right leg out behind his knees. My foot connected with his legs and he stumbled forward, catching himself on his hands before his chest could hit the ground.

The crowd around us grew louder at Hotshot's fall, a couple of newsies throwing insults at the second in command. Hotshot slammed his fists against the ground before he craned his neck in my direction, spitting hard out of the side of his mouth. I watched him closely before deciding to try and get another shot in before he could get up, rushing towards him and throwing my right fist towards his jaw. His hands came up at the last second as he got up on one knee, grabbing my forearm and throwing me to my back. I let out a groan of annoyance as he looked down at me, quickly straddling my abdomen and pinning my arms to my sides before grinning.

My eyes went wide as he brought his right fist down towards my face. It missed me by hairs as I looked to the left, his fist hitting the dock next to me with enough force to elicit a harsh groan from the splitting wood. He didn't wait for me to respond as he brought his left fist down next, my face turning to the right this time to narrowly avoid his punch. I struggled to lift the weight of his body off of me as he continued to try and punch me in the jaw, the sounds of everyone around us fogging up my mind.

"Get the fuck up, Nightshade!" I could hear Myron desperately trying to reach out to me, but his shouts sounded like they were miles away as I kept my focus on the man before me. Thinking I got Hotshot's pattern of punches down, I worked on trying to vault him off of me by using his own bodyweight against him.

But, I was a little off.

The metallic taste was something I really hated about blood. And when it pools in your mouth, it gets much, much worse. The crowd let out a deafening sound as Hotshot's left fist connected with my jaw, my head being forced to the side as I winced. I felt anger bubble up inside me as I glanced up at Hotshot, noticing he was playing to the crowd now. I quickly wriggled my right arm free and punched him in the gut, landing another punch to the front of his neck as he doubled over.

He gasped for breath as he rolled off of me, his hands going between his neck and abdomen. I coughed once as I rolled over to one knee, spitting out the blood that still resided in my mouth. I brought my attention back to Hotshot who was still holding a hand to his neck, getting to my feet before walking over to him. I stared down at him as his eyes met mine, craning my neck to the side as I studied him. I dropped down to my knees and straddled him just like he had done to me moments ago. He let out another strained cough as my right fist connected with his face, the left one coming moments later.

"That's enough!" Bart's voice boomed around the ring as everyone quieted down, my fists ceasing to move as I felt a hand wrap around my right bicep. Being one of the bigger and stronger newsies, Bart lifted me with relative ease, dropping me to my feet right next to him. He looked down at me and then at Hotshot, throwing my right arm into the air moments later to the loud cheers of newsies around the ring.

I couldn't help the smile that slowly crept onto my face as I looked around at them, one certain face sticking out more than the others. Spot stared at me for a while and then nodded once at me, the slightest of smiles making its way onto his face. My eyes remained on him before I was almost knocked off my feet again by Myron, his arms squeezing around my torso. "You son of a bitch! That was awesome!"

I laughed hard at his enthusiasm before breaking out of his grasp, looking down to see Hotshot slowly trying to get to his feet. I reached my right hand down to him and he looked at it before bringing his gaze to my face. I grinned at him before shaking my hand a bit, his head shaking with a laugh before gripping my hand tightly as I pulled him up. We stared at each other before Hotshot nodded at me, pulling me in for a quick one-armed hug before letting go and looking at me again. "My respect for ya is off the charts."

"Does that mean no more cheap shots?" I raised an eyebrow at him as he chuckled.

"We'll see about that. I ain't that generous."

I pulled the bandage wrap taut on my left wrist, wrapping it tenderly around my bruised knuckles. Every once in a while I would wince at the throb of pain that would go through my hand when I brushed them too hard.

"Look at that – I doubled what I made last week on your fight." I heard Myron whistle as he walked through the door to the room we shared with a handful of other newsies. I pulled the bandage one last time, winced and then looked up at him, rolling my eyes with a smile. "You bet on me again?"

"Youse lucky I didn't bet against ya this time." He dropped the coins he was holding on the bed opposite of mine, his concentration going to counting the money. I let out an amused chuckle as I looked around the room of the lodging house we all shared. It wasn't anything fancy – it was old and somewhat rundown - but it was special enough for me. Especially for someone who didn't even have a roof over their head before Spot and the rest of the boys took me in.

The sounds of Myron's money clinking as he counted it filled the room as I stared down at the floor, thoughts of the fight that happened just an hour ago running through my head. Although taking a shot at Hotshot's neck wasn't something I'd normally do to someone I considered a friend – that came with the possibility of doing damage to his windpipe – there were never any hard feelings. According to Hotshot, everything was fair game.

That included doing enough damage to your opponent's windpipe to crush it and suffocate them, oddly enough.

I realized my face was scrunched when I was brought back to present time, Myron's raised eyebrow alerting me to the fact. I opened my mouth to say something to him when footsteps echoed outside in the hallway. We both looked over at the door just in time to see Spot walk into the room, his eyes scanning over every corner as he propped his cane against the wall next to a small bedside table near the entrance.

"This is probably my cue to leave." My gaze snapped to Myron to see him scooping up the coins sprawled out on the bed and shove them in his pocket as he stood up. I stared at him, trying telepathically to tell him not to leave me alone, but he just one-finger saluted me before walking past Spot out the door, nodding at the leader as he went. I swallowed as I rubbed the bandages on my wrists, watching as Spot continued to take his time looking around the room.

There was something about Spot that made me nervous around him. Honestly, he had an air and confidence about him that made anyone in the surrounding boroughs nervous. He wasn't the biggest or the strongest of the Brooklyn newsies, but he was the wittiest and most resourceful.

When he talked, people listened. And that's part of why he led Brooklyn.

"That was a tough fight for ya." Spot's eyes never met my face as he spoke, moving slowly around the room and running his fingers over various tables and bunks. I swallowed again before straightening up, nodding my head. "One of the best ones I ever had."

Spot nodded before walking over towards the bottom bunk I was sitting on, his gaze finally meeting mine. "Was damn good. Just the kind of fight I like to see from my circle."

His face was neutral as he said that, but I could see the sparkle of pride in his eyes and it made a small smile form on my face. "Thank you, that means-"

"But you gotta keep your guard up and keep gettin' betta. Never know when a guy's gonna come at ya with a club," His eyes narrowed a bit as he imitated someone swinging, bringing his arms back to his sides after a moment and then looking down at my hands. "But, I know you can handle yourself. That's why I like ya."

I just stared at Spot as he continued to look at my hands. A few more moments passed before he brought his right hand forward, reaching towards my bandaged hands. I felt my breath hitch in my throat as I watched his hand, seeing it pause right before he grabbed my left hand - like he realized what he was doing.

He dropped his hand back to his side as he straightened up, his gaze not meeting mine again and instead staying on the floor. "We're gonna need newsies like you soon. Something big is happenin'."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "What do you mean?"

He turned his back to me as he headed towards the door, looking back towards me to finally meet my eyes.

"Pulitzer did something he shouldn't have and now the Manhattan newsies are lookin' to go on strike."

My sincerest apologies for taking so long to get an update out on this story!

I want to give some big shout outs to Celeste, Anna W, Grace and WindSongEnchantment for taking the time to review this story - you don't know how much I appreciate it!

I hope you enjoy the story moving forward - and this chapter - and if you do happen to like what you read, let me know! Reviews let me know I'm doing something right. :3