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Racetrack squinted in the hot New York sunlight as he passed through the crowds of people. His sharp gaze caught the figure of Kid Blink and he whistled to catch his attention. Kid Blink saw him, waved and approached him. "Ya sell all yer papes?" Kid Blink asked. "Yeah, short day teday. You?" Kid Blink threw up his empty hands. "Yeah. Let's git outta hea. It's hot an' plus a kid by da bridge said he saw Spot an' his gang comin' inta Manhattan." Racetrack shrugged. "Eh, who cares 'bout dumb Spot Conlon. Let him play his cawds an' we'll play ours. But if he messes wit' me, I'll set him straight, don't git me wrong." Kid Blink sighed. "Must be da weada. Makin' all of us ready fer fightin'." Suddenly, Kid Blink stopped and squinted with his one good eye in the distance. "It's Spot, an' Brooklyn." He whispered in a worried tone to Racetrack. Racetrack shrugged and lit a cigarrette. "Who cares? Not me. Bring it on."
"Heya boys. I wanna tawk wit' one of ya's." Spot remarked cooly, glancing over the two boys. Racetrack scoffed and blew a breath of smoke in Spot's direction. "A woid? Wit' jest one of us? Seems ta me like yer so full of yer britches dat ya needs ta tawk ta both of us." Racetrack remarked. Spot's face reddened, but he did not lunge towards him in battle as Racetrack had expected. "Race, you seen Jack Kelly lately?" He asked smoothly. "I ain't seen Jack Kelly at all, an' even if I had, KEY, I neva woulda told ya." Spot's gray eyes seemed to catch fire. "Ya wanna have it out right hea?" Kid Blink stepped between the two boys. "Let's not have it hea. We're in a public place. People will see us an' call da bulls." Racetrack scowled and pushed him aside, walking towards the Brooklyn leader. "People have eyes so dat dey kin see. Let 'em look."
"Hey Spot! Race! Kid! Whatcha doin'?" Jack yelled as he ran towards them. Spot's face brightened, but not with happiness. Rather with a sick pleasure of a cat about to devour his victim. "Disregard da whole ting Race. My man's here." He said casually. "I'm not about ta let you have at him Spot, no matta what you say." Racetrack remarked boldly. Spot scoffed, but payed him no mind. "So Kelly. You're followas know dat you's a villain? 'Cause dat's how I tink of ya." Jack smiled uneasily as he approached Spot. "Well hello ta you too Spot. I don't wanna have it out teday. Maybe temorra?" Jack said, walking past him and nearer to his friends. But Spot grabbed his arm, stopping him midway. "I'm busy temorra." He glared. "Look Spot, ya don't really know me. We could be good friends again, like we used ta be. But since ya don't really know me an' cain't really undastand why I won't fight ya, I won't do it."
Spot grabbed his arm again and pulled him closer. "Look Kelly. I don't care who ya are or what yer like. You are a scoundrel, pickpocket, traita, you name it, dats who ya are. I cain't do nothin' 'bout yer past injuries ta me, but I'll settle 'em now." He hissed. "Spot, I don't wanna do dis ta ya! Really I don't! Ya don't know how dear yer name, da name of Brooklyn is ta me. I won't fight ya." Jack said earnestly. "Lies! All lies!" Spot yelled angrily. Jack turned to his friends who stared at him in bewilderment. "Whatcha doin' Cowboy?" Kid Blink asked. Racetrack didn't say a word, but instead surged past Jack and Kid Blink till he stood right in front of the Brooklyn leader. "Hey Spot! I'll have it out witcha!" Spot's gray eyes sparked as he watched Racetrack's angry face. "Oh would ya? Well I'll gladly take it." He said softly as he ran towards Racetrack.
Racetrack balled up his fists and met the boy halfway, the two rolling over each other in a whirlwind of punches and blows. Jack tried to dart down between the two and stop them, but to no avail. "Kid! Help me break 'em up! Race! Race stop! It ain't right! Spot! Spot ya know Denton said dat we'd git put in da Refuge if we didn't stop dis fightin' now stop!" Jack yelled, trying to force his way between the two of them, grasping Spot's arm to steady a coming blow upon his friend.
Spot's gray eyes blazed as he gazed at Jack and it was only then that Jack noticed the pocketknife in the boy's upraised hand. The hand jerked out from his surprised grasp and plunged itself into Racetrack's body smoothly. Jack fell backwards in surprise as Spot drew out the knife and ran off with his followers, not once looking back. Racetrack's dirty hands placed themselves over the wound in his stomach tightly, his eyes wide with pain. He muttered under his breath as Jack approached him. "Race, are ya hoit?" Kid Blink asked dumbly. Racetrack winced and looked up. "No Blink it's jest a scratch, nothin' more. "Jeez Race, it cain't be dat bad. You ain't dyin' are ya?" Jack asked as he placed his arm upon the boy's arm.
Racetrack jerked it away from a surprised Jack. "It ain't very wide or nothin' but its seived it's poipose. Ya ask fer me temorra an' dey'll tell ya I'm in da local graveyawd. Damn Cowboy! Damnit! Why'd ya hafta come between us huh?" Racetrack suddenly yelled. "I tought I was doin' what was right." Jack stuttered as he watched his friend on the ground. "Yeah? Ya did huh? Fer once in yer life ya decided ta do da right ting? Huh, Cowboy, he stabbed my unda yer arm! Ya gave him da time ta stab me!" He yelled, from both the pain of body and soul. "Race, I, I'm sorry." Jack mumbled, staring at his friend in horror. "Damn ya both. Damn yer fightin', yer reasons fer dis fightin', but damn da both of ya fer doin' dis." Racetrack whispered, pulling Jack closer to him. Jack's eyes widened in horror as the life slowly seeped out of his brown eyes with the blood from his side.
"Cowboy, he, he's dead." The anguished whisper came from Kid Blink's dry mouth as he knelt by the boy's body. Jack placed his head in his hands, blaming himself and only himself for his mistake and for his friend's death. Then he stood, and hellfire was in his eyes as he ran down the street. He ran, his eyes not registering his surroundings, only looking for one person. When he came to the Brooklyn Bridge he saw the group he sought out. "Spot! Come an' git me Spot! Come an' git yer villain!" Jack yelled like a madman towards the departing figures. The Brooklyn leader turned with a smile and ran back to the boy, a smirk on his face.
"So, did he die?" He asked. "Yeah, he died. An' he's watchin' us now, right above us, an' eida you or me is gonna join him." Jack whispered, his eyes slanting and his fists coming up towards Spot's face. Spot blocked his blows and fought back, but weaker than he had before. Before long, Jack had the upper hand and began to fight him without mercy or forgiveness. When he saw Spot's hand slip into his pocket once more, Jack's strong hand grasped the knife from his hand as he flipped it open. His eyes were wide with fury and they bore into the Brooklyn leader's scared gray eyes in anger. "Dis is fer Race." He whispered as he drove the knife into the boy's body. Spot's eyes widened as the knife entered his heart and they stayed that way as his final breath left him. He lay there on the bloody cobblestone street, his arms wayward on the ground, his eyes staring up at the sky, where his opponent had a moment before towered above him.
Jack collapsed on the ground and hid his head in his hands as the sound of footsteps came to his ears. "Jack! Git outta here! Ya cain't be found here or da bulls will put ya in da jail instead of da Refuge! Git outta here!" Kid Blink's frantic voice echoed off the surrounding buildings hauntedly. But instead of moving Jack stayed where he was, his head in his hands. "I'm sorry Jewel. God I'm so sorry. Spot I'm sorry." He whispered to himself as Kid Blink shook him. "Git outta here Cowboy! Go!" Jack stood, his eyes like those of a lost madman wandered about his surroundings as he ran off, searching for a safe haven for his poor soul.
Racetrack squinted in the hot New York sunlight as he passed through the crowds of people. His sharp gaze caught the figure of Kid Blink and he whistled to catch his attention. Kid Blink saw him, waved and approached him. "Ya sell all yer papes?" Kid Blink asked. "Yeah, short day teday. You?" Kid Blink threw up his empty hands. "Yeah. Let's git outta hea. It's hot an' plus a kid by da bridge said he saw Spot an' his gang comin' inta Manhattan." Racetrack shrugged. "Eh, who cares 'bout dumb Spot Conlon. Let him play his cawds an' we'll play ours. But if he messes wit' me, I'll set him straight, don't git me wrong." Kid Blink sighed. "Must be da weada. Makin' all of us ready fer fightin'." Suddenly, Kid Blink stopped and squinted with his one good eye in the distance. "It's Spot, an' Brooklyn." He whispered in a worried tone to Racetrack. Racetrack shrugged and lit a cigarrette. "Who cares? Not me. Bring it on."
"Heya boys. I wanna tawk wit' one of ya's." Spot remarked cooly, glancing over the two boys. Racetrack scoffed and blew a breath of smoke in Spot's direction. "A woid? Wit' jest one of us? Seems ta me like yer so full of yer britches dat ya needs ta tawk ta both of us." Racetrack remarked. Spot's face reddened, but he did not lunge towards him in battle as Racetrack had expected. "Race, you seen Jack Kelly lately?" He asked smoothly. "I ain't seen Jack Kelly at all, an' even if I had, KEY, I neva woulda told ya." Spot's gray eyes seemed to catch fire. "Ya wanna have it out right hea?" Kid Blink stepped between the two boys. "Let's not have it hea. We're in a public place. People will see us an' call da bulls." Racetrack scowled and pushed him aside, walking towards the Brooklyn leader. "People have eyes so dat dey kin see. Let 'em look."
"Hey Spot! Race! Kid! Whatcha doin'?" Jack yelled as he ran towards them. Spot's face brightened, but not with happiness. Rather with a sick pleasure of a cat about to devour his victim. "Disregard da whole ting Race. My man's here." He said casually. "I'm not about ta let you have at him Spot, no matta what you say." Racetrack remarked boldly. Spot scoffed, but payed him no mind. "So Kelly. You're followas know dat you's a villain? 'Cause dat's how I tink of ya." Jack smiled uneasily as he approached Spot. "Well hello ta you too Spot. I don't wanna have it out teday. Maybe temorra?" Jack said, walking past him and nearer to his friends. But Spot grabbed his arm, stopping him midway. "I'm busy temorra." He glared. "Look Spot, ya don't really know me. We could be good friends again, like we used ta be. But since ya don't really know me an' cain't really undastand why I won't fight ya, I won't do it."
Spot grabbed his arm again and pulled him closer. "Look Kelly. I don't care who ya are or what yer like. You are a scoundrel, pickpocket, traita, you name it, dats who ya are. I cain't do nothin' 'bout yer past injuries ta me, but I'll settle 'em now." He hissed. "Spot, I don't wanna do dis ta ya! Really I don't! Ya don't know how dear yer name, da name of Brooklyn is ta me. I won't fight ya." Jack said earnestly. "Lies! All lies!" Spot yelled angrily. Jack turned to his friends who stared at him in bewilderment. "Whatcha doin' Cowboy?" Kid Blink asked. Racetrack didn't say a word, but instead surged past Jack and Kid Blink till he stood right in front of the Brooklyn leader. "Hey Spot! I'll have it out witcha!" Spot's gray eyes sparked as he watched Racetrack's angry face. "Oh would ya? Well I'll gladly take it." He said softly as he ran towards Racetrack.
Racetrack balled up his fists and met the boy halfway, the two rolling over each other in a whirlwind of punches and blows. Jack tried to dart down between the two and stop them, but to no avail. "Kid! Help me break 'em up! Race! Race stop! It ain't right! Spot! Spot ya know Denton said dat we'd git put in da Refuge if we didn't stop dis fightin' now stop!" Jack yelled, trying to force his way between the two of them, grasping Spot's arm to steady a coming blow upon his friend.
Spot's gray eyes blazed as he gazed at Jack and it was only then that Jack noticed the pocketknife in the boy's upraised hand. The hand jerked out from his surprised grasp and plunged itself into Racetrack's body smoothly. Jack fell backwards in surprise as Spot drew out the knife and ran off with his followers, not once looking back. Racetrack's dirty hands placed themselves over the wound in his stomach tightly, his eyes wide with pain. He muttered under his breath as Jack approached him. "Race, are ya hoit?" Kid Blink asked dumbly. Racetrack winced and looked up. "No Blink it's jest a scratch, nothin' more. "Jeez Race, it cain't be dat bad. You ain't dyin' are ya?" Jack asked as he placed his arm upon the boy's arm.
Racetrack jerked it away from a surprised Jack. "It ain't very wide or nothin' but its seived it's poipose. Ya ask fer me temorra an' dey'll tell ya I'm in da local graveyawd. Damn Cowboy! Damnit! Why'd ya hafta come between us huh?" Racetrack suddenly yelled. "I tought I was doin' what was right." Jack stuttered as he watched his friend on the ground. "Yeah? Ya did huh? Fer once in yer life ya decided ta do da right ting? Huh, Cowboy, he stabbed my unda yer arm! Ya gave him da time ta stab me!" He yelled, from both the pain of body and soul. "Race, I, I'm sorry." Jack mumbled, staring at his friend in horror. "Damn ya both. Damn yer fightin', yer reasons fer dis fightin', but damn da both of ya fer doin' dis." Racetrack whispered, pulling Jack closer to him. Jack's eyes widened in horror as the life slowly seeped out of his brown eyes with the blood from his side.
"Cowboy, he, he's dead." The anguished whisper came from Kid Blink's dry mouth as he knelt by the boy's body. Jack placed his head in his hands, blaming himself and only himself for his mistake and for his friend's death. Then he stood, and hellfire was in his eyes as he ran down the street. He ran, his eyes not registering his surroundings, only looking for one person. When he came to the Brooklyn Bridge he saw the group he sought out. "Spot! Come an' git me Spot! Come an' git yer villain!" Jack yelled like a madman towards the departing figures. The Brooklyn leader turned with a smile and ran back to the boy, a smirk on his face.
"So, did he die?" He asked. "Yeah, he died. An' he's watchin' us now, right above us, an' eida you or me is gonna join him." Jack whispered, his eyes slanting and his fists coming up towards Spot's face. Spot blocked his blows and fought back, but weaker than he had before. Before long, Jack had the upper hand and began to fight him without mercy or forgiveness. When he saw Spot's hand slip into his pocket once more, Jack's strong hand grasped the knife from his hand as he flipped it open. His eyes were wide with fury and they bore into the Brooklyn leader's scared gray eyes in anger. "Dis is fer Race." He whispered as he drove the knife into the boy's body. Spot's eyes widened as the knife entered his heart and they stayed that way as his final breath left him. He lay there on the bloody cobblestone street, his arms wayward on the ground, his eyes staring up at the sky, where his opponent had a moment before towered above him.
Jack collapsed on the ground and hid his head in his hands as the sound of footsteps came to his ears. "Jack! Git outta here! Ya cain't be found here or da bulls will put ya in da jail instead of da Refuge! Git outta here!" Kid Blink's frantic voice echoed off the surrounding buildings hauntedly. But instead of moving Jack stayed where he was, his head in his hands. "I'm sorry Jewel. God I'm so sorry. Spot I'm sorry." He whispered to himself as Kid Blink shook him. "Git outta here Cowboy! Go!" Jack stood, his eyes like those of a lost madman wandered about his surroundings as he ran off, searching for a safe haven for his poor soul.