(Author's note: If you are the type of person that would write hate mail to Mister Roger's neighborhood because he suggested the theory of Evolution, then do not read this story. I don't appreciate hate mail. I'm a horror fan and loved The Omen movies, and thought a crossover would be interesting, enjoy!)
Spot Conlon laid starring up at the stars on top of the Brooklyn Newsie Lodging House, thinking of the events that had just taken place.
"It doesn't make any sense" he thought, "its all just bull." He searched his mind, way back, to see any remembrance of his real parents. He found none. He had been an orphan since he was five years old, having no recollection of his life before then, but he was sure he wasn't what he had just been told he was, in fact he was almost sure it was nothing at all. It was simply too unbelievable and silly.
He stood up and looked down to the ground. He had never been ill, nor been injured badly. He had always felt like he was important, but no, it certainly couldn't be this. He looked down once again, stepped up to the edge of the building and jumped without giving his mind the chance to stop him.
He fell quickly and landed on his back with a thump. He coughed; all the wind had been knocked out of him. He stood up slowly, dusted his clothes off and looked himself over, expecting to have at least a crack. He was perfectly fine.
"So I'se lucky." He said as he walked into the lodging house.
~*~
The next day Spot put selling aside and began the long walk to St. Patrick's Cathedral on 5th Avenue in Manhattan, he was told that he had been baptized there when he was an infant. He hoped the people there would have records of him in some form.
"Hey Spot!" He looked over to see a friend of his.
"Heya Queenie, hows it rollin'?"
"Wonderfully," she pointed to her large stack of newspapers, "It'sa great headline" she looked him over, "Hey why ain't ya sellin'?"
"I jist got stuff ta do, so what's the headline?" He asked curiously.
"Not shoah what it means 'xactly, jist some whole star alignment deal, sposda signify the rebirth of Christ or somethin', aw ya know people love hearin' bout all that religious end of the woild crap."
Spot laughed, "Lemme see" He took one of her papers and began reading.
Queenie watched him, "you ain't inta all dat stuff are yas?"
Spot looked up, "naw, jist curious what all da fuss is about."
"Oo there's a huge crowd over there, I'se gonna cath 'em, see ya 'round Spot."
"See ya Queenie" Spot said without lifting his eyes from the paper. It was a person's average Armageddon story, besides the fact that it was printed in The World, not exactly a paper normally full of prophecies. Three stars had supposedly aligned and it was foretold that it signified the rebirth of God on earth, sent to stop the Anti-Christ from destroying the world as it is. Spot finished the article, discovering it was printed in there mostly because a famous astronomer was the one to discover the stars that hadn't aligned that way for many years. He was sure he had heard all of it before, it sounded so familiar. He had never been a religious person but he seemed to understand the whole concept what of what was happening. He figured he must have heard the story somewhere.
He tucked the paper under his arm and continued his walk to the cathedral.
~*~
Spot stood directly in front of the cathedral. Something seemed wrong, strange even, he didn't want to enter.
He turned to go but realized how ridiculous he was being, he'd walked the whole way to do this he had to go in.
He quickly made his way up the steps and entered.
There were several other people in there praying and he felt as if they all seemed to notice his presence, he didn't like the feeling. He looked around the large place. There were beautiful stained glass windows, white statues signifying different people, candles everywhere.
He slowly walked down the aisle in the middle of the cathedral, glancing around him at the people there to worship. Two of them seemed to be starring right at him. He wondered if he was doing something wrong, he had never actually been in a church since he was just a child. He reached the end of the pews, standing directly in front of a beautiful circular stained glass window. He couldn't seem to shake the feeling that he wasn't doing something right, but he had to speak with the Priest. He looked around him, not sure of where to find him.
Then he noticed him enter a door on the side, and another person entered the door right next to it. He figured it was a confession booth.
He waited patiently for the person to leave and he entered the booth. He looked around him, it was dark and there was small window separating him from the Priest. It opened, so he spoke, "Excuse me...um Father is it?" He asked, not sure of what he's called.
The priest remained silent a second, then answered, "Yes son?"
"Sorry ta disturb you an' all, but I was wonderin', ya see I'm an orphan, an I was baptized heah, by me real parents, an' I was wonderin' if ya keep records or somethin'."
"Yes, we do keep some."
"Could ya show me?"
He remained silent once again, "Yes, come with me."
Spot stepped out of the booth and turned around to see a woman crying nearby holding a baby. The priest put a hand on his shoulder and he turned around to face him. The Priest's hand seemed to shoot back when he saw him. Spot was confused, "Somethin' wrong Fathah?"
The priest starred at him for a minute before answering in a strange voice, "No..no, follow me." He led him down a flight of stairs and into a room containing hundreds of folders. "What is your name?"
"Gavin Conlon."
Once again the Priest seemed to be thinking of something silently, this time he spoke, "When were you born Gavin?" He asked with a suspicious voice.
"1883, June 6th." He answered, wondering if there was something wrong.
The priest sat down at the table before them and gestured for Spot to do the same. He continued starring at Spot.
"Is there something wrong?" Spot finally asked.
"Gavin-"
"Call me Spot" He interrupted, "I go by Spot now."
He nodded, "Spot, many people have been searching for you."
Spot was confused, "What do ya mean? You know who I am?"
"Do you know of anything that happened when you were a child?" Spot shook his head, "No one explained to you anything?"
"I know my parents were killed, the orphanage said they didn't know how it happened, they didn't know anything about who I was."
"Well it's a good thing you came here, anywhere else and.." He shook his head as he stood up.
Spot was getting frustrated, "what the hell is going on? Do you know who my parents are or don't you?" Spot kept hearing what he had been told earlier, but he pushed it away, it was just silliness, complete silliness.
"I'm sorry, it's just....it's You."
"Lissen, some freaked out guy came ta me yestiday an' tol' me I was some beast, I ain't gonna take any more of that, so if ya know who me parents were than tell me, if not I'se goin'."
"Did he try to murder you?"
"What?" Spot asked surprised, "Murder me?"
"So he didn't, Spot now that your of age to understand your destiny you must realize others will see it too, they will try to stop you."
Spot backed up from him, "Hang on now Fathah, I ain't anyone special, alright? I'm a newsie, I ain't some Anti-Christ or somethin' like the freak had said."
"Look inside yourself Spot."
Spot was angry at him, he didn't understand how two weirdoes in totally different places could think he was someone he wasn't "Your a freak too, ya know that, you got no proof, you could pick any kid off the streets and say this to 'im, find someone who believes in all this crap alright?" Spot turned to go.
"Wait!" Spot turned back around, "Here is Wisdom. Let him that hath understanding count the number of the beast: for it is the number of a man; and his number is six hundred and sixty six."
Spot's eyes went wide, but he quickly pretended to not notice a thing.
"Revelation 13:18," The Priest told him, "and you bear the mark."
"Um, no, I don't." Spot said, not wanting to accept anything like this, "your insane and I'm leaving." Spot said and took off up the stairs.
"Come back when you realize the truth!" The Priest yelled up to him.
Spot ran out of the cathedral and into the street. Feeling much better to be out of it. He walked towards Central Park and sat down on a bench to think things over. "..and his number is six hundred and sixty six." Spot felt behind his ear, knowing he had that number there since he could remember.
He kept shaking his head, sure that there was another explanation to all this.
Lately he had felt like something was happening, something was coming. He had no idea what it was but he knew that he was important; he was different.
He thought back to what the old man had said to him.
::::::::~*~:::::::::::
"Boy!"
Spot looked up to see an old man dressed in strange and dirty clothes.
"Listen to me boy." Spot watched him suspiciously.
"Who are you, an' what are ya doin' heah?" He wondered why Pete had let him into the lodging house.
The man sat down on the opposite side of the table that Spot had been fussing with a deck of cards on. "I know who you are."
"Yeah I know who I am too, what's yer point?"
The man shook his head, "No you have no idea who you are, you must have noticed it by now, do you know who your parents are?"
Spot didn't see how that was any of his business, "What's it ta you?"
"You don't because you were born of a jackal!"
Spot laughed, "Yeah an' me Fathah's a bohemian circus midget, yeah.." He said sarcastically.
The old man went silent and looked at Spot seriously, "Boy, you must know who your Father is."
Spot sighed, not understanding this man, "Lissen, I don't know who ya are or wheah ya came from, but whe'ver dat is ya bettah go back."
Spot looked up as a few of the other newsies enterred, "Heya fellas, wanna help me get rid a this guy 'er what?"
The old man seemed to become hysterical, "You must know who you are! You will rule the world! You are the son of the devil Boy! The Nazarene has come and you must stop it! You are the Anti-Christ! The BEAST!" The man pointed his finger directly at him as he yelled.
Spot starred the man directly in the eye and smiled slowly. The man's eyes went wide and he ran out of the building quickly, fumbling over his own feet.
Chase, one of the Brooklyn newsies looked at Spot like he'd just given birth, "What the hell was that all about?"
Spot seemed to be thinking about it himself. He turned to Chase, shrugged and grinned, "I dunno, he was probly drunk 'er somethin'."
:::::::::~*~::::::::::
Spot knew that man had died that night. He had killed himself directly after speaking with him. The body had not yet been found. He knew that he had done it, but he had no idea how that is. He tried his best to push it out of his mind, mostly by attempting to convince himself it was just all his imagination.
He fumbled with his slingshot he always had with him. He had been given it the first night he came to the orphanage.
::::::::::*::::::::::::
"Gavin? Gavin honey wake up."
The little boy on the bed seemed to come out of a deep sleep and gaze up at the young nun who had brought him in that morning.
"There you are" she said sweetly to the child, "you've been asleep for quite a while now Gavin."
The boy looked around him curiously. He was small for his age of five; he had dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes. "Where am I?" He asked softly.
The nun walked over to the bed and sat on the side near him, "You are at the Brooklyn Orphanage, you'll be staying with us for a while." The boy seemed to be thinking it over. The nun put her hand on his shoulder, "Everything that has happened can be forgotten now Gavin, you're going to start all over."
He looked confused, "What's happened?"
She looked confused for a moment but smiled once again, "Nothing honey, you rest, I'll bring you some food."
She walked out of the bedroom, running into another, older, nun, accompanied by a Priest. She shook her head, "I feel so sorry for him, is it true his entire family was killed just in the last month?"
The old nun nodded and glanced at the Priest, "It is a horrible tragedy, is the boy awake?"
"Yes, just now, I am going to get him some breakfast, who knows the last time he ate, " she answered.
The Priest walked into the doorway and glanced at the boy, "I'm going to have a talk with him if that's alright."
"Yes of course, I think it would be best not to mention his family-"
"Yes of course" the Priest answered quickly, then shut the door behind him.
"Hello Gavin," he said to the child, who followed his gaze as he walked around the room, "I am Father Barnes, I was a friend of your father if you recall."
"My father?" Gavin asked, confused.
The Father didn't understand, "You do not remember your father, Gavin?"
The boy shook his head slowly, "I remember coming here, " he said as if that's all he knew.
The Father excused himself and left the room to speak to the older nun.
"He does not remember anything?" She asked after he explained.
"He doesn't seem to, he didn't show one bit of recognition of my face."
"Well surely a great tragedy can cause this sort of thing, but with Him...."
"But it IS only temporary, isn't it?"
The nun nodded, "Yes...yes it will most likely all come back after time."
"How much time?"
"You cannot predict Father, it is never the same. "The Father seemed to be frustrated and nervous.
"Well...keep a close watch over him, I must know when it comes back, if he doesn't understand what has been done for him then he could not ever understand what he must do himself."
::::::::::~*~::::::::::
Spot had stayed at the orphanage for three years. He did not mind the place- he was naturally a leader and easily made friends. Of course he was also naturally a fighter, regardless of his size, and was able to take care of any enemies easily.
In 1891, when he was 8 years old, a couple was planning to adopt him. The father was the then New York Secretary of State. He would have lived a wealthy life had he not run off the moment he heard of them.
Spot had known what kind of life he'd live with them and it did not appeal to him in the slightest bit.
He immediately joined the Brooklyn Lodging House for Newsies, and took on the name of Spot.
By the age of 14 he had been appointed the leader of the Brooklyn Newsies by the previous one. He loved who he was. Most of his close friends were the Newsies he lived with and he knew he was meant to be a leader; his position completely satisfied him. Of course he understood he could not be a newsie forever, but his future was probably one of the last things on his mind. He was too busy enjoying life.
Spot stood up and decided to visit the Manhattan Newsies. He needed to get his mind off the two psychos anyways.
He'd stepped only a few feet when he heard the loud yelling of a newsie, he quickly recognized the voice as belonging to Racetrack Higgins, a good friend of his. He made his way over to the voice, Race seemed to be having a great day, most of his papers were gone. Racetrack noticed him as soon as he came into view.
"Hey, Spot, sell your papes already?"
Spot shook his head, "Naw, dint feel like sellin', you seem ta be doin' well."
Race shrugged, "Dint even hafta improve this headline" he pointed to the article Spot had read earlier, "read that, the end of the world could be coming."
Spot laughed, "Sure Race" then he thought about the article, "Well ain't the birth of the next Christ a good thing?"
Race seemed to know about this, "Not necessarily, if he was born than it means that the anti-Christ has already been born, and if the new Christ died then he'll take over the world."
"Yeah? An' how do you know all dis exactly?"
"Me Grandmothah was a kook."
"So she's the one you take aftah huh?"
Race hit him with one of his papers playfully, Spot laughed at him.
"I've hoid enough about this anti-Christ stuff taday, so wheah's Jacky boy, ya know?"
Race informed him that he was back at the lodging house, he'd caught the flu in a rainstorm a few days ago and to his much objection, Kloppman wouldn't allow him to sell.
Spot started walking to the lodging house but kept noticing a man watching him. The man was dressed in a suit and looked around his 20s. After several blocks he was still there. Then Spot noticed there was another man with him, it was the Priest that he had visited earlier that day. This annoyed him completely and he purposely stood against a wall for a few seconds, knowing they were right around the corner, making them believe he disappeared from sight. He heard them talking to each other and listened intently.
"What if we're wrong?" The man asked.
"No, it's definitely him, I saw his face, it's surely the same boy from the orphanage years ago" The priest told him, his voice sounded scared.
The man was silent a few seconds. "We thought he was dead."
"And it's perfect timing that we found him, the birth of the nazarene proved that he is still alive, and he saved us much time looking for him."
"Does he know?"
The Priest didn't answer at first, "He doesn't understand-"
"But-"
"He will in time" the Priest assured.
"We better go, we hafta know where he stays."
At that they turned the corner, Spot stepped right out in front of them. They gasped as if they just came upon a hungry dragon.
"Lissen guys," Spot began, not really sure what to say to lose them, "I don't care who you are or what you believe in, just stay way from me, alright?" Spot glared at them, trying his best not to lose his temper, he knew where that always took him.
The two were silent.
Spot went on, "I ain't sayin' all yer weird beliefs are wrong, jist that they don't got notin ta do wit me, I probly jist look like someone ya know."
"No son, you don't understand who you are-" the man started.
Spot stepped up to him quickly, "I know who I am and if you don't leave me the hell alone not even your own Mothah will be able ta recognize your face aftah I'se done wit you." The man was silent once again. Spot turned around and left, angry that his temper got away from him when he didn't wish it too.
"He does look just like him" The man told the Priest, "but he seems like a regular boy."
The Priest shook his head as he watched Spot walk off, "No, it's him, he's just been away for so long- no one's been around to show him or teach him his importance."
"Then he wont accept it like he should, if he had been treated right, if he hadn't run-"
"Yes I know, he would have already had some sort of knowing that he had a very important destiny, but he'll see, trust me."
"Well he'd better see soon, the Nazarene has come."
Spot made it to the lodging house, planning to explain some of this to Jack just to get it off his mind. Kloppman met him at the front desk.
"Yes, Jack's sick and there was no way I was going to let him outside like that, no, not one of my boys." Kloppman had been stirring up some soup as he talked, and now picked up the tray it was sitting on, "Do me a favor and bring this to him will you Spot-" he seemed to think of something, "Maybe you shouldn't see him Spot, the flu is contagious and there's no good in two boys-"
"Don't worry Kloppman" Spot interrupted, "I've nevah been sick a day in me life, I'll be fine." Spot took the tray and headed upstairs.
"Alright, but when you come down with a fever don't tell anyone I let you in with the sick." Kloppman called up to him.
Jack was lying in his bunk looking restless. As soon as he heard footsteps he began talking, "Kloppman I told you I'm fine!" He coughed a few times before continuing, "There's no point in me bein' locked up heah when I could be sellin' dat good headline evyone was braggin' about-"
"Shut yer yap Jacky Boy, an if ya cough on me I'll really make ya bed ridden."
Jack laughed, "What's happenin' Spot?"
Spot sat down on the bunk across from Jack and handed him the soup, "Notin much, had to deal with some pretty weird stuff lately though."
Jack quickly drank some soup down, choking from the hotness, then continuing again, "Yeah? What kinda weird stuff?"
Spot shrugged, "I don't really get it actually. An ol' man showed up at the lodging house, screwed up in da head ya know, an' then I decided to finally get around ta headin' ovah to the church I'd been as a kid, and then the Priest there ended up bein' screwed up in the head as well. An' on the way heah the same Priest and' anothah guy was followin' me, talkin' on the same stuff."
Jack was interested in this, not having anything else to do at the moment, "What were they talkin' on?"
"I don't know , I guess the article in the paper taday, ya read it?" Jack nodded, "Yeah well it musta made those people just flip and pick someone out in the crowd and call him the anti-Christ, and I just happened ta be the one."
"They think your the anti-christ?" Spot laughed and nodded his head yes. Jack thought this over. He knew more about Spot then anyone, he had known him since he was first put into the orphanage. He remembered many weird things said about him by the people that took care of him, it had always stuck in his mind, but he never thought much of it, but this seemed to hit a familair note in his memory. "Ya think they'll go away?"
"I don't know, I told the guys followin' me taday ta keep away, hopefully they'll do that, fer their own sake."
Jack laughed, "Did ya ever considah ya Are the anti-christ?" He asked Spot jokingly, "I mean, ya are kinda creepy."
Spot grinned, "The anti-Christ is sposda grow up ina wealthy family, an as much as I love it, my life ain't wealthy, 'sides," he told Jack with a smirk, "I'se much bettah then that."
Spot changed the subject and talked to Jack until the other Newsies returned.
~*~
The Priest and the man that has been following Spot earlier that day had called a meeting. Many different kinds of people had showed giving the urgency that had been shown.
The Priest, Father Barnes, addressed them loudly, "I'm sure you are all aware that the birth of the Nazarene has taken place." Some of the crowd nodded their heads, others turned to talk with another, the Priest continued, "This has finally proven that the anti-Christ still is among us. And we have found him." The crowd all began talking at once.
"Listen" The man told them, he slowly gained their attention, "My name is Robert McClane, I have been waiting for this day to arrive for" he paused a second, "countless years. And I'm sure you all understand the importance in keeping Him protected" he paused while the crowd showed their agreement, "You should know, that he isn't aware of who he is and you should use total discretion when dealing with him"
"What's 'is name?" A member of the crowd called out.
"He goes by the name of Spot Conlon" he answered, "it's my understanding that he is a newsboy, a position that must not stay, it must be certain that he hold power as an adult."
"How will you do that?" Another crowd member asked.
Father Barnes answered, "We have no doubt that after the boy accepts who he is, which should happen soon, then we will have no trouble placing him in a proper position."
The meeting continued, discussing where each member comes into place.
~*~
"Feelin' any bettah Jack?" Swifty asked when he walked in with Pie Eater.
Jack groaned, "I'm fine, I'se been fine all day long, I sweah it."
Swifty laughed at him, being able to noticeably see Jack was still ill. He noticed Spot, "How ya doin' Spot?"
"Been bettah, you?"
"He's havin' the best day 'a his life" Pie Eater answered for him, "Swifty heah's gotta goil."
"Name's Frankie, she's goigous" Swifty told them, his head drifting into the clouds.
"I gotta git goin' fellas, take care a Jacky Boy heah, he's a weakling ya know?" Jack hit Spot rather pathetically with his pillow.
Spot left the lodging house, running into Racetrack almost immediately after, "I sweah youse followin' me or somethin' Race."
"You only wish Spot" Race said grinning.
"I'se starved, wanna go wit me ta Tibby's?" Race shrugged and agreed.
There were several other Newsies in the restaurant. They all greeted the two as they sat down and ordered.
Not long after their food came, Snipeshooter and Les ran into the restaurant quickly, reporting that an older boy was chasing them because they had used his corner to sell.
A second later the boy entered, obviously looking for the two young newsies. Spot stood up, silently volunteering to take care of the problem.
"Got a problem wit me friends heah?" Spot asked the boy, who was also older than Spot, and much bigger.
The boy didn't seem to recognize the tough and feared leader that Spot was, he walked right up to him, "Yeah I do, now git outa me way so I can take care of it kid." The boy shoved Spot to the side and walked towards Les and Snipe, who were standing next to the other newsies.
"Hey." Spot said to him, not even trying to hide his anger at the boy.
The boy turned around slowly with a smirk on his face, to meet Spot's direct glare. His smirk slowly faded as he held Spot's gaze. The other newsies watched as the boy stumbled back quickly onto the table behind him and fell to the floor. The boy began screaming and scooting back on the floor as if trying to escape from something.
"What's going on here?" Spot snapped his gaze to the restaurant manager, who had heard the boys screams.
Spot seemed confused, he hesitated before answering, "I don't know...he just went nuts, began screaming an' all, bettah call a doctah er somethin.'" The manager looked at the boy on the floor, who looked frightened but was no longer hysterical, than he looked at Spot, who looked as though he was going over the happenings in his head, "Stay there" he told the boy on the floor, and went in to probably call for a doctor. Of course the boy hopped up and ran out of the restaurant, taking the route farthest from Spot as he left.
Besides the newsies there were two couples in there, they were both starring at Spot oddly. He slowly walked back to his table and sat down.
All the newsies had their eyes on him as if waiting for an explanation. Finally Les asked, "What'd ya do to 'im?"
Spot shook his head, "I don't know" he lied softly, knowing he had done it purposely, then came out of his thoughts and said louder, "notin, he was just crazy I guess."
"Yeah he musta been" Race commented and the other newsies agreed before changing the subject, but most of them still thought Spot had done something, but didn't have the courage to say so.
Spot wasn't quite sure what had happened. As soon as he finished eating he left the restaurant and began walking back to Brooklyn.
He didn't understand how he did it, but it had seemed so natural. He certainly didn't mind though, the guy deserved it completely. So many other odd things had happened that day, however, he hoped he'd wake up the next day and forget about all of it. It wasn't that he was afraid the people were right, that he really Was who they say he is, it was that he was afraid that he might believe it too. He figured that if he didn't believe it then it didn't matter whether it were true or not, but if he gave his mind up to such a silly thing then he would become what they believed.
~*~
Back at the Brooklyn Lodging House, Spot asked Pete, the man who took care of the house, if he could borrow his Bible. Pete obliged only after making sure Spot didn't intend to use it for a game or some kind of bonfire.
Many of the other Newsies were downstairs playing various games. Spot walked up to the bunkroom and sat at the table on the end of the room.
Opening the book to the last section, he searched for the section the Priest had read from, he recalled it being 13 something. He turned to the section and read:
And I stood upon the sand of the sea, and saw a beast rise up out of the sea, having seven heads and ten horns, and upon his horns ten crowns, and upon his heads the name of blasphemy. And the beast which I saw was like unto a leopard, and his feet were as the feet of a bear, and his mouth as the mouth of a lion: and the dragon gave him his power, and his seat, and great authority. And I saw one of his heads as it were wounded to death; and its wound was healed: and all the world wondered after the beast. And they worshiped the dragon which gave power unto the beast: and they worshiped the beast, saying, Who is like unto the beast? who is able to make war with him?
And there was given unto him a mouth speaking great things and blasphemies; and power was given unto him to continue forty and two months. And he opened his mouth in blasphemy against God, to blapheme his name and his tabernacle, and them that dwell in heaven. And it was given unto him to make war with the saints, and to overcome them: and power was given him over all kindreds, and tongues, and nations. And all that dwell upon the earth shall worship him, whose names are not written in the book of life of the lamb slain from the foundation of the world. If any man have an ear, let him hear. He who leadeth into captivity shall go into captivity: he that killeth with the sword must be killed with the sword. Here is the patience and the faith of the saints.
And I beheld another beast coming up out of the earth;and he had two horns like a lamb and he spake like a dragon. And he excersiseth all the power of the first beast before him, and causeth the earth and them which dwell therein to worship the first beast, whose deadly wound was healed. And he doeth great wonders, so that he maketh fire come down from heaven on earth in the sight of men, and decieveth them that dwell on earth by the means of those miracles which he had power to do in the sight of the beast; saying to them that dwell on the earth, that they should make an image to the beast, which had the wound by a sword, and did live. And he had power to give life unto the image of the beast, that the image of the beast should both speak, and cause that as many as would not worship the image of the beast should be killed. And he causeth all, both small and great, rich and poor, free and bond, to recieve a mark on their right hand, or in their foreheads: and that no man might buy or sell, save he had that mark, or the name of the beast, or the number of his name. Here is Wisdom. Let him that hath understanding count the number of the beast: for it is the number of a man; and his number is six hundred and sixty six.
Spot closed the book, hating how familiar it was to him. He also realized that he seemed to be familiar with the entire Bible, although he could not remember ever reading it. It happened a lot that he realized he knew something when he never had learned it. He always figured he had learned it when he was a kid, before he could remember. He stood up and returned the book to Pete, then went back to his bunk. He lay down to think, but quickly fell asleep instead.
:::::::::::~*~::::::::::::::::
"He's our son!"
"He isn't human! All those people are dead!"
"What are you talking about? He's just a child!"
"He isn't just a child!"
"I will Not let you hurt him!"
"Get out of my way!"
"No!!"
::::::::::::~*~:::::::::::::::
Spot woke up with a jerk. His dream was like a memory, he knew what happened next, and what happened before, it was just really vague.
He stood up and walked to the washroom for a drink of water, slowly, avoiding all the obstacles in the darkness.
As he drank more of the dream went through his head- an image of a small boy starring down at two dead people, covered in bloody slashes; they were his parents.
Spot shook the image out of his head and made his way back to his bunk, cursing when he hit his knee on the side of his bunk. He quickly fell asleep once again.
~*~
When Spot woke he felt so different. He had awaked long before the other newsies had considering how early he had went to sleep. He sat up and stared off into the darkness, thinking of this new feeling. It seemed like he was someone else and he quickly realized why. He thought back and his memories didn't stop at the orphanage.
He over the memories, amazed, knowing they were his, but they seemed like someone else's. He saw it all. He even felt what he had felt. It was like reliving it, but for the first time.
He was angry, he saw people, people that wanted to hurt him and he couldn't let that happen. He watched them die, if not directly in front of him, in his mind,. He felt better when they were gone. He felt safe.
He saw his parents' faces for the first time. He saw how his father had turned against him, his father didn't want to help him, and he wanted him to die. Spot was angry with him. He smiled at the remembrance of the dogs. They stopped his parents from killing him. His parents were gone and he felt safe once again.
Spot saw what those people saw and he knew who he was. He understood and he felt proud.
"Spot? Ya up already?" Spot snapped out of his thoughts and looked towards the voice of his friend Queenie. He saw what he was doing, the thoughts, he couldn't think that!
"Spot, ya look like ya've seen a ghost."
He shook his head, stood up and ran out of the room. He had to get away from those thoughts.
Queenie stared after him, too tired to move. She'd ask about it later.
Spot ran through the streets aimlessly, he just had to run; he had to get away.
He ran unto the Brooklyn Bridge, stopping at the middle of it and looking over into the water. He couldn't understand why it had to be him. And especially why he didn't feel bad, he felt, good even. It was just so much.
He sat down on the bridge think it over.
It couldn't go away, he was who he was. It felt so right that he couldn't accept it. He Knew he was different, but he never expected This.
His mind ran over everything, he saw his life, he saw other peoples lives, he saw the world, and he saw the future.
He saw his father. His real father. And he understood. God had had this world long enough, it was his turn.
He stood up slowly and once again looked over the water and over the city, this time with a new clearness. He knew who he was and what he was to do.
Walking back to the lodging house he wasn't sure if he should inform his friends. He loved his friends and would want them to be with him. But if they refused...
But he had to ask, why wouldn't they accept?
~*~
A man had entered the lodging house as the other Newsies were getting ready for the day.
Queenie had come downstairs and saw Pete talking to the man. She listened when she heard them mentioning Spot.
"You are all in danger! You Must listen to me!" Pete appeared to be trying to calm the man. "He will kill anyone that threatens him, Anyone! All his family is Dead! He is the son of the devil, the beast! You Must kill him before he is found! Then he will be protected and you will Die!"
"I'm sorry sir but if you don't leave-"
"You must understand! You are in Great danger!"
"Yes ok, I understand, Spot is the anti-Christ, sure, now we'll take care of it, you can leave now." Pete told the man as if he were a child.
The man flipped around, Spot had entered the doorway and was starring at him. Bringing out a crucifix from his pocket the man started shaking from fear.
Spot looked at Pete questioningly, "What's his problem?"
Pete shrugged, "A real nutcase," he looked at the man who couldn't take his eyes off of Spot, "But he'll be going now or the bulls will be shoah to take care of it." The man didn't budge. Spot glued his eyes on him.
"Yeah, he'll be going" Spot said softly. Suddenly the man walked backwards slowly and out the door, as soon as he was out of sight he screamed and the noise of him hitting the ground was heard. Pete ran out, followed slowly by Spot. Queenie stayed behind, not liking the situation.
"Oh no, he must have fell off the stairs, hitting his head on the sidewalk, he's unconscious" she heard Pete say, then order another kid outside to run for a doctor, even though it was obvious the man was dead.
"Maybe he was drunk" Spot added.
Queenie walked out slowly, her eyes watching Spot. It seemed as if he wasn't affected at all over this. Spot turned his head and looked at her. Remembering what had happened in Tibby's with that boy, she had to ask, "Spot, what'd you do?"
Although Spot wanted to inform his friends of who he was, this seemed much too soon, and not the right time. "Whadoya mean? I was just standing heah."
Queenie pulled his arm inside and stared at him, "Your my friend aren't you?"
Spot nodded and shrugged, "What do you think I did?"
Looking out at the man outside, then looking at Spot, she couldn't find an answer, "I don't know, but could you at least tell me what's goin' on? This mornin' ya seemed freaked, and he was the second weirdo that showed up heah."
Spot pretended not to know, "I think there's some group somewheah, they musta just picked me to annoy, a bunch of religious freaks or somethin', sorry about this mornin', I wasn't feelin' well" he lied.
Queenie considered his answer, "Do ya think they'll come back? I don't like them at all, they seem so..sure that their right."
"I don't know Queenie, hey, ya wanna sell wit me taday?" Spot asked, trying to change the subject.
She noticed this, "Shoah Spot, but..." she didn't know what to say to him, something was going on but she didn't know what it could be, "that boy in the restaurant...and now this..."
"I don't know" he answered simply, "Come on" he headed back to the bunkroom to pick up some change for his papers, then headed over to the distribution center with Queenie, followed by several others.
They sold far away, all the way into Manhattan because of a parade where they managed to get their stack sold quickly.
Jack was well again and Queenie was talking with him and Racetrack. Spot knew she was talking about him and what had happened at the lodging house. Spot decided he had to tell them if they ask again, he didn't want to have to hide everything from them when they could be with him.
As if they knew his thoughts, they all came over to confront him.
Jack spoke first, "Spot, I heard about what happened and I've been thinking about what ya said..." he looked up at Spot nervously, "when you were a kid back at the orphanage, I overheard things said about you....your parents and family....that they were all dead." Spot nodded and led them over to an empty ally for privacy.
"Yeah, they are."
Queenie didn't understand, "I thought you didn't remember your past!"
"I didn't until last night Queenie, that's why I wasn't feeling well."
"Spot" Jack said, not sure how to go on, "after ya mentioned that guy with the whole anti-Christ thing, I was sick an' had notin ta do, so I read that part in the Bible for laughs an' all, but...Well I hadn't read that part before and it said the beast has a mark an'.." Spot knew where he was going, "You have that mark." Spot didn't say anything, Jack continued, "and at first I thought it was silly...but I thought about all the stuff that I heard about happening lately, an' all the stuff back when we was kids.."
"Jack I know what your thinking." Spot finally said.
"Those weird guys all said you were the beast" Queenie said to him, "They said you were created in the image of-"
"In the image of the greatest power there is" Spot said, causing all three of them to stare at him blankly, "he was thrown out of heaven but he has risen with all his power, in me." Spot looked at all of them, Racetrack and Jack looked somewhat frightened, they didn't consider what would happen if he really Was who they thought he was and didn't know what to say. Queenie was studying him, curiously. "And now I must ask you, will you come with me? Will you stand with me?"
"Spot no.." Jack was shaking his head, still trying to take in what he had said before, "this isn't right Spot."
Racetrack unconsciously made the sign of the cross with his hand.
"Will you come with me?" Spot asked once again. He looked at Jack, who shook his head. Then at Race.
"No Spot" they both seemed shaken up, Spot hoped they would change their mind. He looked at Queenie, who hadn't shown any sign of being afraid.
She reached out slowly and touched him, "Your really him" she said to herself. She brought her eyes to meet his, then she stuck her hand out as if to shake, "friends forever" she said to him. He grinned as he shook her hand, then turned to the other two.
Race was looking at Queenie, "How could you do that Queenie? He's the devil's son!"
Spot glared at Race, "And what has he ever done to you? Hm? Or even more interesting, what has your God done for you?" Race glared back at him, "Notin right? You owe him nothin' Race, join me."
"Race, your my friend, I don't want you as my enemy" Queenie told him.
"Never." Race told them angrily. Spot looked at the ground, not knowing what he can do.
Jack still seemed to be thinking it over, "This isn't happening" he was saying to himself, "This can't be, you're like my brother Spot!" He yelled at him.
"And you are to me too, that is why you must be with me Jack!" Jack was shaking his head.
"No." He began running of.
"Jack." Spot called to him, "Jack please." Jack again shook his head. Spot stared at him, angry. All the sudden Jack began coughing, he sounded like he was choking. He clutched his neck and kept coughing. Blood began spraying from his coughs.
"Stop it Spot!!" Race yelled. Spot didn't budge, "Jack!" Race ran up to his friend but didn't know what he could do. Jack fell to the ground; he was turning blue and had streaks of blood running out of his mouth. Racetrack was silent, his anger so strong he could hardly look at Spot. Jack's hands fell limply off his neck; he was dead. Race looked up at Spot and suddenly lunged forward at him.
Spot, being the better fighter anyways, quickly had on Race on his back.
"How could you!!" Race was yelling hysterically as he struggled to get out of Spot's grasp, "Why?!"
Spot let Race up, "Listen to yourself Race."
Racetrack calmed a little bit and looked at Queenie, "Now do you see?" he pointed towards Jack, "Look what he did, to Your friend!"
Queenie shook her head, "Race, you hafta look at it in a diffrent perspective, look at the big pictuah, ya know?"
"Your a good person Queenie, what are you talking about? And Spot...you can't be..." Race knew that no matter what he said he couldn't change what was happening. He stared at the ground, defeated.
Spot walked towards him, "Racetrack it's not wrong, what's wrong is to ignore the truth. God hasn't done anythin' for you, an' 'e wont. Join me and you'll undastand real power."
Race looked up at Spot, "It's evil."
Spot shook his head, "No Race, your idea of evil is simply the idea put forth by God. You will understand soon."
Race didn't want to accept it, but he couldn't find a reason why. Spot was right; he had never been given anything from God. He grew up in an abusive family, his brother was killed as a child, his life had in no way been shown mercy. He thought of what Spot said, he looked at the big picture. Race looked over at Jack's body and was all the sudden full of anger, God allowed Jack to die even when he was on His side. Race then at Spot and he saw Spot for who he was. "I'm with you" he said to him. He spitshook with Spot and then with Queenie and they all walked off chatting like always.
~*~
Spot had revisited the Cathedral and the Priest immediately called another meeting.
He stepped into the room full of his people, many more than had been at the previous meeting, with Queenie and Race at his sides. Everyone in the room had their eyes on him, filled with complete respect and loyalty.
Spot stepped up onto the podium in front of the crowd, as they all remained silent awaiting his words, a smirk slowly spread across his face.
THE END
(I am still making changes on this story, but there will be a sequel and maybe a prequel if all goes well)
Spot Conlon laid starring up at the stars on top of the Brooklyn Newsie Lodging House, thinking of the events that had just taken place.
"It doesn't make any sense" he thought, "its all just bull." He searched his mind, way back, to see any remembrance of his real parents. He found none. He had been an orphan since he was five years old, having no recollection of his life before then, but he was sure he wasn't what he had just been told he was, in fact he was almost sure it was nothing at all. It was simply too unbelievable and silly.
He stood up and looked down to the ground. He had never been ill, nor been injured badly. He had always felt like he was important, but no, it certainly couldn't be this. He looked down once again, stepped up to the edge of the building and jumped without giving his mind the chance to stop him.
He fell quickly and landed on his back with a thump. He coughed; all the wind had been knocked out of him. He stood up slowly, dusted his clothes off and looked himself over, expecting to have at least a crack. He was perfectly fine.
"So I'se lucky." He said as he walked into the lodging house.
~*~
The next day Spot put selling aside and began the long walk to St. Patrick's Cathedral on 5th Avenue in Manhattan, he was told that he had been baptized there when he was an infant. He hoped the people there would have records of him in some form.
"Hey Spot!" He looked over to see a friend of his.
"Heya Queenie, hows it rollin'?"
"Wonderfully," she pointed to her large stack of newspapers, "It'sa great headline" she looked him over, "Hey why ain't ya sellin'?"
"I jist got stuff ta do, so what's the headline?" He asked curiously.
"Not shoah what it means 'xactly, jist some whole star alignment deal, sposda signify the rebirth of Christ or somethin', aw ya know people love hearin' bout all that religious end of the woild crap."
Spot laughed, "Lemme see" He took one of her papers and began reading.
Queenie watched him, "you ain't inta all dat stuff are yas?"
Spot looked up, "naw, jist curious what all da fuss is about."
"Oo there's a huge crowd over there, I'se gonna cath 'em, see ya 'round Spot."
"See ya Queenie" Spot said without lifting his eyes from the paper. It was a person's average Armageddon story, besides the fact that it was printed in The World, not exactly a paper normally full of prophecies. Three stars had supposedly aligned and it was foretold that it signified the rebirth of God on earth, sent to stop the Anti-Christ from destroying the world as it is. Spot finished the article, discovering it was printed in there mostly because a famous astronomer was the one to discover the stars that hadn't aligned that way for many years. He was sure he had heard all of it before, it sounded so familiar. He had never been a religious person but he seemed to understand the whole concept what of what was happening. He figured he must have heard the story somewhere.
He tucked the paper under his arm and continued his walk to the cathedral.
~*~
Spot stood directly in front of the cathedral. Something seemed wrong, strange even, he didn't want to enter.
He turned to go but realized how ridiculous he was being, he'd walked the whole way to do this he had to go in.
He quickly made his way up the steps and entered.
There were several other people in there praying and he felt as if they all seemed to notice his presence, he didn't like the feeling. He looked around the large place. There were beautiful stained glass windows, white statues signifying different people, candles everywhere.
He slowly walked down the aisle in the middle of the cathedral, glancing around him at the people there to worship. Two of them seemed to be starring right at him. He wondered if he was doing something wrong, he had never actually been in a church since he was just a child. He reached the end of the pews, standing directly in front of a beautiful circular stained glass window. He couldn't seem to shake the feeling that he wasn't doing something right, but he had to speak with the Priest. He looked around him, not sure of where to find him.
Then he noticed him enter a door on the side, and another person entered the door right next to it. He figured it was a confession booth.
He waited patiently for the person to leave and he entered the booth. He looked around him, it was dark and there was small window separating him from the Priest. It opened, so he spoke, "Excuse me...um Father is it?" He asked, not sure of what he's called.
The priest remained silent a second, then answered, "Yes son?"
"Sorry ta disturb you an' all, but I was wonderin', ya see I'm an orphan, an I was baptized heah, by me real parents, an' I was wonderin' if ya keep records or somethin'."
"Yes, we do keep some."
"Could ya show me?"
He remained silent once again, "Yes, come with me."
Spot stepped out of the booth and turned around to see a woman crying nearby holding a baby. The priest put a hand on his shoulder and he turned around to face him. The Priest's hand seemed to shoot back when he saw him. Spot was confused, "Somethin' wrong Fathah?"
The priest starred at him for a minute before answering in a strange voice, "No..no, follow me." He led him down a flight of stairs and into a room containing hundreds of folders. "What is your name?"
"Gavin Conlon."
Once again the Priest seemed to be thinking of something silently, this time he spoke, "When were you born Gavin?" He asked with a suspicious voice.
"1883, June 6th." He answered, wondering if there was something wrong.
The priest sat down at the table before them and gestured for Spot to do the same. He continued starring at Spot.
"Is there something wrong?" Spot finally asked.
"Gavin-"
"Call me Spot" He interrupted, "I go by Spot now."
He nodded, "Spot, many people have been searching for you."
Spot was confused, "What do ya mean? You know who I am?"
"Do you know of anything that happened when you were a child?" Spot shook his head, "No one explained to you anything?"
"I know my parents were killed, the orphanage said they didn't know how it happened, they didn't know anything about who I was."
"Well it's a good thing you came here, anywhere else and.." He shook his head as he stood up.
Spot was getting frustrated, "what the hell is going on? Do you know who my parents are or don't you?" Spot kept hearing what he had been told earlier, but he pushed it away, it was just silliness, complete silliness.
"I'm sorry, it's just....it's You."
"Lissen, some freaked out guy came ta me yestiday an' tol' me I was some beast, I ain't gonna take any more of that, so if ya know who me parents were than tell me, if not I'se goin'."
"Did he try to murder you?"
"What?" Spot asked surprised, "Murder me?"
"So he didn't, Spot now that your of age to understand your destiny you must realize others will see it too, they will try to stop you."
Spot backed up from him, "Hang on now Fathah, I ain't anyone special, alright? I'm a newsie, I ain't some Anti-Christ or somethin' like the freak had said."
"Look inside yourself Spot."
Spot was angry at him, he didn't understand how two weirdoes in totally different places could think he was someone he wasn't "Your a freak too, ya know that, you got no proof, you could pick any kid off the streets and say this to 'im, find someone who believes in all this crap alright?" Spot turned to go.
"Wait!" Spot turned back around, "Here is Wisdom. Let him that hath understanding count the number of the beast: for it is the number of a man; and his number is six hundred and sixty six."
Spot's eyes went wide, but he quickly pretended to not notice a thing.
"Revelation 13:18," The Priest told him, "and you bear the mark."
"Um, no, I don't." Spot said, not wanting to accept anything like this, "your insane and I'm leaving." Spot said and took off up the stairs.
"Come back when you realize the truth!" The Priest yelled up to him.
Spot ran out of the cathedral and into the street. Feeling much better to be out of it. He walked towards Central Park and sat down on a bench to think things over. "..and his number is six hundred and sixty six." Spot felt behind his ear, knowing he had that number there since he could remember.
He kept shaking his head, sure that there was another explanation to all this.
Lately he had felt like something was happening, something was coming. He had no idea what it was but he knew that he was important; he was different.
He thought back to what the old man had said to him.
::::::::~*~:::::::::::
"Boy!"
Spot looked up to see an old man dressed in strange and dirty clothes.
"Listen to me boy." Spot watched him suspiciously.
"Who are you, an' what are ya doin' heah?" He wondered why Pete had let him into the lodging house.
The man sat down on the opposite side of the table that Spot had been fussing with a deck of cards on. "I know who you are."
"Yeah I know who I am too, what's yer point?"
The man shook his head, "No you have no idea who you are, you must have noticed it by now, do you know who your parents are?"
Spot didn't see how that was any of his business, "What's it ta you?"
"You don't because you were born of a jackal!"
Spot laughed, "Yeah an' me Fathah's a bohemian circus midget, yeah.." He said sarcastically.
The old man went silent and looked at Spot seriously, "Boy, you must know who your Father is."
Spot sighed, not understanding this man, "Lissen, I don't know who ya are or wheah ya came from, but whe'ver dat is ya bettah go back."
Spot looked up as a few of the other newsies enterred, "Heya fellas, wanna help me get rid a this guy 'er what?"
The old man seemed to become hysterical, "You must know who you are! You will rule the world! You are the son of the devil Boy! The Nazarene has come and you must stop it! You are the Anti-Christ! The BEAST!" The man pointed his finger directly at him as he yelled.
Spot starred the man directly in the eye and smiled slowly. The man's eyes went wide and he ran out of the building quickly, fumbling over his own feet.
Chase, one of the Brooklyn newsies looked at Spot like he'd just given birth, "What the hell was that all about?"
Spot seemed to be thinking about it himself. He turned to Chase, shrugged and grinned, "I dunno, he was probly drunk 'er somethin'."
:::::::::~*~::::::::::
Spot knew that man had died that night. He had killed himself directly after speaking with him. The body had not yet been found. He knew that he had done it, but he had no idea how that is. He tried his best to push it out of his mind, mostly by attempting to convince himself it was just all his imagination.
He fumbled with his slingshot he always had with him. He had been given it the first night he came to the orphanage.
::::::::::*::::::::::::
"Gavin? Gavin honey wake up."
The little boy on the bed seemed to come out of a deep sleep and gaze up at the young nun who had brought him in that morning.
"There you are" she said sweetly to the child, "you've been asleep for quite a while now Gavin."
The boy looked around him curiously. He was small for his age of five; he had dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes. "Where am I?" He asked softly.
The nun walked over to the bed and sat on the side near him, "You are at the Brooklyn Orphanage, you'll be staying with us for a while." The boy seemed to be thinking it over. The nun put her hand on his shoulder, "Everything that has happened can be forgotten now Gavin, you're going to start all over."
He looked confused, "What's happened?"
She looked confused for a moment but smiled once again, "Nothing honey, you rest, I'll bring you some food."
She walked out of the bedroom, running into another, older, nun, accompanied by a Priest. She shook her head, "I feel so sorry for him, is it true his entire family was killed just in the last month?"
The old nun nodded and glanced at the Priest, "It is a horrible tragedy, is the boy awake?"
"Yes, just now, I am going to get him some breakfast, who knows the last time he ate, " she answered.
The Priest walked into the doorway and glanced at the boy, "I'm going to have a talk with him if that's alright."
"Yes of course, I think it would be best not to mention his family-"
"Yes of course" the Priest answered quickly, then shut the door behind him.
"Hello Gavin," he said to the child, who followed his gaze as he walked around the room, "I am Father Barnes, I was a friend of your father if you recall."
"My father?" Gavin asked, confused.
The Father didn't understand, "You do not remember your father, Gavin?"
The boy shook his head slowly, "I remember coming here, " he said as if that's all he knew.
The Father excused himself and left the room to speak to the older nun.
"He does not remember anything?" She asked after he explained.
"He doesn't seem to, he didn't show one bit of recognition of my face."
"Well surely a great tragedy can cause this sort of thing, but with Him...."
"But it IS only temporary, isn't it?"
The nun nodded, "Yes...yes it will most likely all come back after time."
"How much time?"
"You cannot predict Father, it is never the same. "The Father seemed to be frustrated and nervous.
"Well...keep a close watch over him, I must know when it comes back, if he doesn't understand what has been done for him then he could not ever understand what he must do himself."
::::::::::~*~::::::::::
Spot had stayed at the orphanage for three years. He did not mind the place- he was naturally a leader and easily made friends. Of course he was also naturally a fighter, regardless of his size, and was able to take care of any enemies easily.
In 1891, when he was 8 years old, a couple was planning to adopt him. The father was the then New York Secretary of State. He would have lived a wealthy life had he not run off the moment he heard of them.
Spot had known what kind of life he'd live with them and it did not appeal to him in the slightest bit.
He immediately joined the Brooklyn Lodging House for Newsies, and took on the name of Spot.
By the age of 14 he had been appointed the leader of the Brooklyn Newsies by the previous one. He loved who he was. Most of his close friends were the Newsies he lived with and he knew he was meant to be a leader; his position completely satisfied him. Of course he understood he could not be a newsie forever, but his future was probably one of the last things on his mind. He was too busy enjoying life.
Spot stood up and decided to visit the Manhattan Newsies. He needed to get his mind off the two psychos anyways.
He'd stepped only a few feet when he heard the loud yelling of a newsie, he quickly recognized the voice as belonging to Racetrack Higgins, a good friend of his. He made his way over to the voice, Race seemed to be having a great day, most of his papers were gone. Racetrack noticed him as soon as he came into view.
"Hey, Spot, sell your papes already?"
Spot shook his head, "Naw, dint feel like sellin', you seem ta be doin' well."
Race shrugged, "Dint even hafta improve this headline" he pointed to the article Spot had read earlier, "read that, the end of the world could be coming."
Spot laughed, "Sure Race" then he thought about the article, "Well ain't the birth of the next Christ a good thing?"
Race seemed to know about this, "Not necessarily, if he was born than it means that the anti-Christ has already been born, and if the new Christ died then he'll take over the world."
"Yeah? An' how do you know all dis exactly?"
"Me Grandmothah was a kook."
"So she's the one you take aftah huh?"
Race hit him with one of his papers playfully, Spot laughed at him.
"I've hoid enough about this anti-Christ stuff taday, so wheah's Jacky boy, ya know?"
Race informed him that he was back at the lodging house, he'd caught the flu in a rainstorm a few days ago and to his much objection, Kloppman wouldn't allow him to sell.
Spot started walking to the lodging house but kept noticing a man watching him. The man was dressed in a suit and looked around his 20s. After several blocks he was still there. Then Spot noticed there was another man with him, it was the Priest that he had visited earlier that day. This annoyed him completely and he purposely stood against a wall for a few seconds, knowing they were right around the corner, making them believe he disappeared from sight. He heard them talking to each other and listened intently.
"What if we're wrong?" The man asked.
"No, it's definitely him, I saw his face, it's surely the same boy from the orphanage years ago" The priest told him, his voice sounded scared.
The man was silent a few seconds. "We thought he was dead."
"And it's perfect timing that we found him, the birth of the nazarene proved that he is still alive, and he saved us much time looking for him."
"Does he know?"
The Priest didn't answer at first, "He doesn't understand-"
"But-"
"He will in time" the Priest assured.
"We better go, we hafta know where he stays."
At that they turned the corner, Spot stepped right out in front of them. They gasped as if they just came upon a hungry dragon.
"Lissen guys," Spot began, not really sure what to say to lose them, "I don't care who you are or what you believe in, just stay way from me, alright?" Spot glared at them, trying his best not to lose his temper, he knew where that always took him.
The two were silent.
Spot went on, "I ain't sayin' all yer weird beliefs are wrong, jist that they don't got notin ta do wit me, I probly jist look like someone ya know."
"No son, you don't understand who you are-" the man started.
Spot stepped up to him quickly, "I know who I am and if you don't leave me the hell alone not even your own Mothah will be able ta recognize your face aftah I'se done wit you." The man was silent once again. Spot turned around and left, angry that his temper got away from him when he didn't wish it too.
"He does look just like him" The man told the Priest, "but he seems like a regular boy."
The Priest shook his head as he watched Spot walk off, "No, it's him, he's just been away for so long- no one's been around to show him or teach him his importance."
"Then he wont accept it like he should, if he had been treated right, if he hadn't run-"
"Yes I know, he would have already had some sort of knowing that he had a very important destiny, but he'll see, trust me."
"Well he'd better see soon, the Nazarene has come."
Spot made it to the lodging house, planning to explain some of this to Jack just to get it off his mind. Kloppman met him at the front desk.
"Yes, Jack's sick and there was no way I was going to let him outside like that, no, not one of my boys." Kloppman had been stirring up some soup as he talked, and now picked up the tray it was sitting on, "Do me a favor and bring this to him will you Spot-" he seemed to think of something, "Maybe you shouldn't see him Spot, the flu is contagious and there's no good in two boys-"
"Don't worry Kloppman" Spot interrupted, "I've nevah been sick a day in me life, I'll be fine." Spot took the tray and headed upstairs.
"Alright, but when you come down with a fever don't tell anyone I let you in with the sick." Kloppman called up to him.
Jack was lying in his bunk looking restless. As soon as he heard footsteps he began talking, "Kloppman I told you I'm fine!" He coughed a few times before continuing, "There's no point in me bein' locked up heah when I could be sellin' dat good headline evyone was braggin' about-"
"Shut yer yap Jacky Boy, an if ya cough on me I'll really make ya bed ridden."
Jack laughed, "What's happenin' Spot?"
Spot sat down on the bunk across from Jack and handed him the soup, "Notin much, had to deal with some pretty weird stuff lately though."
Jack quickly drank some soup down, choking from the hotness, then continuing again, "Yeah? What kinda weird stuff?"
Spot shrugged, "I don't really get it actually. An ol' man showed up at the lodging house, screwed up in da head ya know, an' then I decided to finally get around ta headin' ovah to the church I'd been as a kid, and then the Priest there ended up bein' screwed up in the head as well. An' on the way heah the same Priest and' anothah guy was followin' me, talkin' on the same stuff."
Jack was interested in this, not having anything else to do at the moment, "What were they talkin' on?"
"I don't know , I guess the article in the paper taday, ya read it?" Jack nodded, "Yeah well it musta made those people just flip and pick someone out in the crowd and call him the anti-Christ, and I just happened ta be the one."
"They think your the anti-christ?" Spot laughed and nodded his head yes. Jack thought this over. He knew more about Spot then anyone, he had known him since he was first put into the orphanage. He remembered many weird things said about him by the people that took care of him, it had always stuck in his mind, but he never thought much of it, but this seemed to hit a familair note in his memory. "Ya think they'll go away?"
"I don't know, I told the guys followin' me taday ta keep away, hopefully they'll do that, fer their own sake."
Jack laughed, "Did ya ever considah ya Are the anti-christ?" He asked Spot jokingly, "I mean, ya are kinda creepy."
Spot grinned, "The anti-Christ is sposda grow up ina wealthy family, an as much as I love it, my life ain't wealthy, 'sides," he told Jack with a smirk, "I'se much bettah then that."
Spot changed the subject and talked to Jack until the other Newsies returned.
~*~
The Priest and the man that has been following Spot earlier that day had called a meeting. Many different kinds of people had showed giving the urgency that had been shown.
The Priest, Father Barnes, addressed them loudly, "I'm sure you are all aware that the birth of the Nazarene has taken place." Some of the crowd nodded their heads, others turned to talk with another, the Priest continued, "This has finally proven that the anti-Christ still is among us. And we have found him." The crowd all began talking at once.
"Listen" The man told them, he slowly gained their attention, "My name is Robert McClane, I have been waiting for this day to arrive for" he paused a second, "countless years. And I'm sure you all understand the importance in keeping Him protected" he paused while the crowd showed their agreement, "You should know, that he isn't aware of who he is and you should use total discretion when dealing with him"
"What's 'is name?" A member of the crowd called out.
"He goes by the name of Spot Conlon" he answered, "it's my understanding that he is a newsboy, a position that must not stay, it must be certain that he hold power as an adult."
"How will you do that?" Another crowd member asked.
Father Barnes answered, "We have no doubt that after the boy accepts who he is, which should happen soon, then we will have no trouble placing him in a proper position."
The meeting continued, discussing where each member comes into place.
~*~
"Feelin' any bettah Jack?" Swifty asked when he walked in with Pie Eater.
Jack groaned, "I'm fine, I'se been fine all day long, I sweah it."
Swifty laughed at him, being able to noticeably see Jack was still ill. He noticed Spot, "How ya doin' Spot?"
"Been bettah, you?"
"He's havin' the best day 'a his life" Pie Eater answered for him, "Swifty heah's gotta goil."
"Name's Frankie, she's goigous" Swifty told them, his head drifting into the clouds.
"I gotta git goin' fellas, take care a Jacky Boy heah, he's a weakling ya know?" Jack hit Spot rather pathetically with his pillow.
Spot left the lodging house, running into Racetrack almost immediately after, "I sweah youse followin' me or somethin' Race."
"You only wish Spot" Race said grinning.
"I'se starved, wanna go wit me ta Tibby's?" Race shrugged and agreed.
There were several other Newsies in the restaurant. They all greeted the two as they sat down and ordered.
Not long after their food came, Snipeshooter and Les ran into the restaurant quickly, reporting that an older boy was chasing them because they had used his corner to sell.
A second later the boy entered, obviously looking for the two young newsies. Spot stood up, silently volunteering to take care of the problem.
"Got a problem wit me friends heah?" Spot asked the boy, who was also older than Spot, and much bigger.
The boy didn't seem to recognize the tough and feared leader that Spot was, he walked right up to him, "Yeah I do, now git outa me way so I can take care of it kid." The boy shoved Spot to the side and walked towards Les and Snipe, who were standing next to the other newsies.
"Hey." Spot said to him, not even trying to hide his anger at the boy.
The boy turned around slowly with a smirk on his face, to meet Spot's direct glare. His smirk slowly faded as he held Spot's gaze. The other newsies watched as the boy stumbled back quickly onto the table behind him and fell to the floor. The boy began screaming and scooting back on the floor as if trying to escape from something.
"What's going on here?" Spot snapped his gaze to the restaurant manager, who had heard the boys screams.
Spot seemed confused, he hesitated before answering, "I don't know...he just went nuts, began screaming an' all, bettah call a doctah er somethin.'" The manager looked at the boy on the floor, who looked frightened but was no longer hysterical, than he looked at Spot, who looked as though he was going over the happenings in his head, "Stay there" he told the boy on the floor, and went in to probably call for a doctor. Of course the boy hopped up and ran out of the restaurant, taking the route farthest from Spot as he left.
Besides the newsies there were two couples in there, they were both starring at Spot oddly. He slowly walked back to his table and sat down.
All the newsies had their eyes on him as if waiting for an explanation. Finally Les asked, "What'd ya do to 'im?"
Spot shook his head, "I don't know" he lied softly, knowing he had done it purposely, then came out of his thoughts and said louder, "notin, he was just crazy I guess."
"Yeah he musta been" Race commented and the other newsies agreed before changing the subject, but most of them still thought Spot had done something, but didn't have the courage to say so.
Spot wasn't quite sure what had happened. As soon as he finished eating he left the restaurant and began walking back to Brooklyn.
He didn't understand how he did it, but it had seemed so natural. He certainly didn't mind though, the guy deserved it completely. So many other odd things had happened that day, however, he hoped he'd wake up the next day and forget about all of it. It wasn't that he was afraid the people were right, that he really Was who they say he is, it was that he was afraid that he might believe it too. He figured that if he didn't believe it then it didn't matter whether it were true or not, but if he gave his mind up to such a silly thing then he would become what they believed.
~*~
Back at the Brooklyn Lodging House, Spot asked Pete, the man who took care of the house, if he could borrow his Bible. Pete obliged only after making sure Spot didn't intend to use it for a game or some kind of bonfire.
Many of the other Newsies were downstairs playing various games. Spot walked up to the bunkroom and sat at the table on the end of the room.
Opening the book to the last section, he searched for the section the Priest had read from, he recalled it being 13 something. He turned to the section and read:
And I stood upon the sand of the sea, and saw a beast rise up out of the sea, having seven heads and ten horns, and upon his horns ten crowns, and upon his heads the name of blasphemy. And the beast which I saw was like unto a leopard, and his feet were as the feet of a bear, and his mouth as the mouth of a lion: and the dragon gave him his power, and his seat, and great authority. And I saw one of his heads as it were wounded to death; and its wound was healed: and all the world wondered after the beast. And they worshiped the dragon which gave power unto the beast: and they worshiped the beast, saying, Who is like unto the beast? who is able to make war with him?
And there was given unto him a mouth speaking great things and blasphemies; and power was given unto him to continue forty and two months. And he opened his mouth in blasphemy against God, to blapheme his name and his tabernacle, and them that dwell in heaven. And it was given unto him to make war with the saints, and to overcome them: and power was given him over all kindreds, and tongues, and nations. And all that dwell upon the earth shall worship him, whose names are not written in the book of life of the lamb slain from the foundation of the world. If any man have an ear, let him hear. He who leadeth into captivity shall go into captivity: he that killeth with the sword must be killed with the sword. Here is the patience and the faith of the saints.
And I beheld another beast coming up out of the earth;and he had two horns like a lamb and he spake like a dragon. And he excersiseth all the power of the first beast before him, and causeth the earth and them which dwell therein to worship the first beast, whose deadly wound was healed. And he doeth great wonders, so that he maketh fire come down from heaven on earth in the sight of men, and decieveth them that dwell on earth by the means of those miracles which he had power to do in the sight of the beast; saying to them that dwell on the earth, that they should make an image to the beast, which had the wound by a sword, and did live. And he had power to give life unto the image of the beast, that the image of the beast should both speak, and cause that as many as would not worship the image of the beast should be killed. And he causeth all, both small and great, rich and poor, free and bond, to recieve a mark on their right hand, or in their foreheads: and that no man might buy or sell, save he had that mark, or the name of the beast, or the number of his name. Here is Wisdom. Let him that hath understanding count the number of the beast: for it is the number of a man; and his number is six hundred and sixty six.
Spot closed the book, hating how familiar it was to him. He also realized that he seemed to be familiar with the entire Bible, although he could not remember ever reading it. It happened a lot that he realized he knew something when he never had learned it. He always figured he had learned it when he was a kid, before he could remember. He stood up and returned the book to Pete, then went back to his bunk. He lay down to think, but quickly fell asleep instead.
:::::::::::~*~::::::::::::::::
"He's our son!"
"He isn't human! All those people are dead!"
"What are you talking about? He's just a child!"
"He isn't just a child!"
"I will Not let you hurt him!"
"Get out of my way!"
"No!!"
::::::::::::~*~:::::::::::::::
Spot woke up with a jerk. His dream was like a memory, he knew what happened next, and what happened before, it was just really vague.
He stood up and walked to the washroom for a drink of water, slowly, avoiding all the obstacles in the darkness.
As he drank more of the dream went through his head- an image of a small boy starring down at two dead people, covered in bloody slashes; they were his parents.
Spot shook the image out of his head and made his way back to his bunk, cursing when he hit his knee on the side of his bunk. He quickly fell asleep once again.
~*~
When Spot woke he felt so different. He had awaked long before the other newsies had considering how early he had went to sleep. He sat up and stared off into the darkness, thinking of this new feeling. It seemed like he was someone else and he quickly realized why. He thought back and his memories didn't stop at the orphanage.
He over the memories, amazed, knowing they were his, but they seemed like someone else's. He saw it all. He even felt what he had felt. It was like reliving it, but for the first time.
He was angry, he saw people, people that wanted to hurt him and he couldn't let that happen. He watched them die, if not directly in front of him, in his mind,. He felt better when they were gone. He felt safe.
He saw his parents' faces for the first time. He saw how his father had turned against him, his father didn't want to help him, and he wanted him to die. Spot was angry with him. He smiled at the remembrance of the dogs. They stopped his parents from killing him. His parents were gone and he felt safe once again.
Spot saw what those people saw and he knew who he was. He understood and he felt proud.
"Spot? Ya up already?" Spot snapped out of his thoughts and looked towards the voice of his friend Queenie. He saw what he was doing, the thoughts, he couldn't think that!
"Spot, ya look like ya've seen a ghost."
He shook his head, stood up and ran out of the room. He had to get away from those thoughts.
Queenie stared after him, too tired to move. She'd ask about it later.
Spot ran through the streets aimlessly, he just had to run; he had to get away.
He ran unto the Brooklyn Bridge, stopping at the middle of it and looking over into the water. He couldn't understand why it had to be him. And especially why he didn't feel bad, he felt, good even. It was just so much.
He sat down on the bridge think it over.
It couldn't go away, he was who he was. It felt so right that he couldn't accept it. He Knew he was different, but he never expected This.
His mind ran over everything, he saw his life, he saw other peoples lives, he saw the world, and he saw the future.
He saw his father. His real father. And he understood. God had had this world long enough, it was his turn.
He stood up slowly and once again looked over the water and over the city, this time with a new clearness. He knew who he was and what he was to do.
Walking back to the lodging house he wasn't sure if he should inform his friends. He loved his friends and would want them to be with him. But if they refused...
But he had to ask, why wouldn't they accept?
~*~
A man had entered the lodging house as the other Newsies were getting ready for the day.
Queenie had come downstairs and saw Pete talking to the man. She listened when she heard them mentioning Spot.
"You are all in danger! You Must listen to me!" Pete appeared to be trying to calm the man. "He will kill anyone that threatens him, Anyone! All his family is Dead! He is the son of the devil, the beast! You Must kill him before he is found! Then he will be protected and you will Die!"
"I'm sorry sir but if you don't leave-"
"You must understand! You are in Great danger!"
"Yes ok, I understand, Spot is the anti-Christ, sure, now we'll take care of it, you can leave now." Pete told the man as if he were a child.
The man flipped around, Spot had entered the doorway and was starring at him. Bringing out a crucifix from his pocket the man started shaking from fear.
Spot looked at Pete questioningly, "What's his problem?"
Pete shrugged, "A real nutcase," he looked at the man who couldn't take his eyes off of Spot, "But he'll be going now or the bulls will be shoah to take care of it." The man didn't budge. Spot glued his eyes on him.
"Yeah, he'll be going" Spot said softly. Suddenly the man walked backwards slowly and out the door, as soon as he was out of sight he screamed and the noise of him hitting the ground was heard. Pete ran out, followed slowly by Spot. Queenie stayed behind, not liking the situation.
"Oh no, he must have fell off the stairs, hitting his head on the sidewalk, he's unconscious" she heard Pete say, then order another kid outside to run for a doctor, even though it was obvious the man was dead.
"Maybe he was drunk" Spot added.
Queenie walked out slowly, her eyes watching Spot. It seemed as if he wasn't affected at all over this. Spot turned his head and looked at her. Remembering what had happened in Tibby's with that boy, she had to ask, "Spot, what'd you do?"
Although Spot wanted to inform his friends of who he was, this seemed much too soon, and not the right time. "Whadoya mean? I was just standing heah."
Queenie pulled his arm inside and stared at him, "Your my friend aren't you?"
Spot nodded and shrugged, "What do you think I did?"
Looking out at the man outside, then looking at Spot, she couldn't find an answer, "I don't know, but could you at least tell me what's goin' on? This mornin' ya seemed freaked, and he was the second weirdo that showed up heah."
Spot pretended not to know, "I think there's some group somewheah, they musta just picked me to annoy, a bunch of religious freaks or somethin', sorry about this mornin', I wasn't feelin' well" he lied.
Queenie considered his answer, "Do ya think they'll come back? I don't like them at all, they seem so..sure that their right."
"I don't know Queenie, hey, ya wanna sell wit me taday?" Spot asked, trying to change the subject.
She noticed this, "Shoah Spot, but..." she didn't know what to say to him, something was going on but she didn't know what it could be, "that boy in the restaurant...and now this..."
"I don't know" he answered simply, "Come on" he headed back to the bunkroom to pick up some change for his papers, then headed over to the distribution center with Queenie, followed by several others.
They sold far away, all the way into Manhattan because of a parade where they managed to get their stack sold quickly.
Jack was well again and Queenie was talking with him and Racetrack. Spot knew she was talking about him and what had happened at the lodging house. Spot decided he had to tell them if they ask again, he didn't want to have to hide everything from them when they could be with him.
As if they knew his thoughts, they all came over to confront him.
Jack spoke first, "Spot, I heard about what happened and I've been thinking about what ya said..." he looked up at Spot nervously, "when you were a kid back at the orphanage, I overheard things said about you....your parents and family....that they were all dead." Spot nodded and led them over to an empty ally for privacy.
"Yeah, they are."
Queenie didn't understand, "I thought you didn't remember your past!"
"I didn't until last night Queenie, that's why I wasn't feeling well."
"Spot" Jack said, not sure how to go on, "after ya mentioned that guy with the whole anti-Christ thing, I was sick an' had notin ta do, so I read that part in the Bible for laughs an' all, but...Well I hadn't read that part before and it said the beast has a mark an'.." Spot knew where he was going, "You have that mark." Spot didn't say anything, Jack continued, "and at first I thought it was silly...but I thought about all the stuff that I heard about happening lately, an' all the stuff back when we was kids.."
"Jack I know what your thinking." Spot finally said.
"Those weird guys all said you were the beast" Queenie said to him, "They said you were created in the image of-"
"In the image of the greatest power there is" Spot said, causing all three of them to stare at him blankly, "he was thrown out of heaven but he has risen with all his power, in me." Spot looked at all of them, Racetrack and Jack looked somewhat frightened, they didn't consider what would happen if he really Was who they thought he was and didn't know what to say. Queenie was studying him, curiously. "And now I must ask you, will you come with me? Will you stand with me?"
"Spot no.." Jack was shaking his head, still trying to take in what he had said before, "this isn't right Spot."
Racetrack unconsciously made the sign of the cross with his hand.
"Will you come with me?" Spot asked once again. He looked at Jack, who shook his head. Then at Race.
"No Spot" they both seemed shaken up, Spot hoped they would change their mind. He looked at Queenie, who hadn't shown any sign of being afraid.
She reached out slowly and touched him, "Your really him" she said to herself. She brought her eyes to meet his, then she stuck her hand out as if to shake, "friends forever" she said to him. He grinned as he shook her hand, then turned to the other two.
Race was looking at Queenie, "How could you do that Queenie? He's the devil's son!"
Spot glared at Race, "And what has he ever done to you? Hm? Or even more interesting, what has your God done for you?" Race glared back at him, "Notin right? You owe him nothin' Race, join me."
"Race, your my friend, I don't want you as my enemy" Queenie told him.
"Never." Race told them angrily. Spot looked at the ground, not knowing what he can do.
Jack still seemed to be thinking it over, "This isn't happening" he was saying to himself, "This can't be, you're like my brother Spot!" He yelled at him.
"And you are to me too, that is why you must be with me Jack!" Jack was shaking his head.
"No." He began running of.
"Jack." Spot called to him, "Jack please." Jack again shook his head. Spot stared at him, angry. All the sudden Jack began coughing, he sounded like he was choking. He clutched his neck and kept coughing. Blood began spraying from his coughs.
"Stop it Spot!!" Race yelled. Spot didn't budge, "Jack!" Race ran up to his friend but didn't know what he could do. Jack fell to the ground; he was turning blue and had streaks of blood running out of his mouth. Racetrack was silent, his anger so strong he could hardly look at Spot. Jack's hands fell limply off his neck; he was dead. Race looked up at Spot and suddenly lunged forward at him.
Spot, being the better fighter anyways, quickly had on Race on his back.
"How could you!!" Race was yelling hysterically as he struggled to get out of Spot's grasp, "Why?!"
Spot let Race up, "Listen to yourself Race."
Racetrack calmed a little bit and looked at Queenie, "Now do you see?" he pointed towards Jack, "Look what he did, to Your friend!"
Queenie shook her head, "Race, you hafta look at it in a diffrent perspective, look at the big pictuah, ya know?"
"Your a good person Queenie, what are you talking about? And Spot...you can't be..." Race knew that no matter what he said he couldn't change what was happening. He stared at the ground, defeated.
Spot walked towards him, "Racetrack it's not wrong, what's wrong is to ignore the truth. God hasn't done anythin' for you, an' 'e wont. Join me and you'll undastand real power."
Race looked up at Spot, "It's evil."
Spot shook his head, "No Race, your idea of evil is simply the idea put forth by God. You will understand soon."
Race didn't want to accept it, but he couldn't find a reason why. Spot was right; he had never been given anything from God. He grew up in an abusive family, his brother was killed as a child, his life had in no way been shown mercy. He thought of what Spot said, he looked at the big picture. Race looked over at Jack's body and was all the sudden full of anger, God allowed Jack to die even when he was on His side. Race then at Spot and he saw Spot for who he was. "I'm with you" he said to him. He spitshook with Spot and then with Queenie and they all walked off chatting like always.
~*~
Spot had revisited the Cathedral and the Priest immediately called another meeting.
He stepped into the room full of his people, many more than had been at the previous meeting, with Queenie and Race at his sides. Everyone in the room had their eyes on him, filled with complete respect and loyalty.
Spot stepped up onto the podium in front of the crowd, as they all remained silent awaiting his words, a smirk slowly spread across his face.
THE END
(I am still making changes on this story, but there will be a sequel and maybe a prequel if all goes well)