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Wolf slipped into the alley that lead into the basement of Oscar's hideout. He was grateful for Grabs telling him about the secret passageway. It would help him immensely. His arm would give him trouble, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. He had placed lookouts, the boys who had hurt their legs, all around the vicinity. They were to whistle if anything went wrong. But now it was only him, Quincy and Raven. He didn't like that. He wished he had more backup. What he wished was that Mike was there. "Dang Mike!" Wolf swore. "He would run out on us just as," Wolf stopped midsentence as a box fell behind him. He whirled around to face Sketch, who was laying on the ground in front of him.

Wolf's face relaxed and he smiled. "Dang Mike! It's 'bout time you showed up! Please tell me you ain't gimped up 'cause I've already got enough lookouts!" Wolf said. Sketch grinned and stood up. "No worries Wolf. I'm jest fine." Sketch said reassuringly. "Well dats good 'cause I ain't. An' I know dat dis arm is gonna interfere. Same ting wit' ol' Raven ova dere. His shoulda ain't gonna like him none afta dis. You an' Quincy's da only ones dat made it outta dere widout a scratch. I wonda if mebey you two was behind all dat." Wolf said, his face suddenly serious. Sketch began to stutter, but only after he was nudged playfully by Quincy, did he notice the twinkle in Wolf's eye. "Oh yeah Wolf. Me an' Quincy was da mastaminds behind da whole ting!" He said with a smile.

Wolf waved his hand at them. "Ah shudup. Let's git dis done." Wolf said quietly, turning back towards the door. "But Wolf! Whats da plan?" Sketch asked frantically. Wolf turned around slowly. "Da plan is ta let me do da tawkin'. You folla my lead. An' you let me do da woik. Only cova fer me when I needs ya. I gotta do dis on me own. Got dat?" Wolf asked, his face suddenly serious. Sketch nodded and placed his hand over the bulge his slingshot made in his pocket. Finally the small band stepped through the doorway. Once inside, Wolf turned to them. "Now Grabs tol' me how ta git through here so you kin folla me. Try ta rememba too if we git lost, 'cause we cain't afford gittin' lost." Wolf said. Sketch looked around him in amazement as they tiptoed through the halls. He knew this place. He remembered. After Grabs had been shot, he had gone inside the building. He wanted to find the person that had done it, even though it was against his father's strict orders. He had had a near run-in with Oscar inside. Sketch knew where he would be.

"Wolf." He whispered. Wolf turned around, exasperation written on his face. "What now Mike?" He hissed. "I been here before. I tink I know where Osca is gonna be." The expression on Wolf's face was one of stunned amazement. "What?" He whispered. "I know where he is." Sketch repeated. "Lemme lead Wolf." Sketch whispered earnestly. Wolf stared at him, then eyed Quincy and Raven before nodding. Sketch stepped in front of them and motioned them to follow him. They tiptoed through the halls, pressing themselves into the shadows when they heard footsteps other than their own. When the coast was clear they proceeded on.

Finally Sketch found himself outside a familiar dimly lit office room. He stood still before Wolf pushed in front of him, his eyes blazing. Before he put his hand on the door-knob, his hand momentarily rested on Sketch's shoulder. "Danks fer what you done Mike. Danks." He said softly. Sketch nodded and Wolf took his hand and placed it on the knob. A moment later he had jerked open the door and stepped into the room. The amazement on Oscar Delancy's face was enough of a reward for Sketch to last him a lifetime. Behind him stood a man equally surprised, whom he recognized from his father's vivid descriptions as Oscar's brother Morris. Wolf grinned and made his way to the front of the desk. Quincy and Raven backed him up, but Mike stayed close to the shadows for fear that Oscar would recognize him. He had seen him more than once.

Wolf didn't speak, but the pure pleasure on his face was evident, and it increased as he drew a pistol out of his pocket, pointing it straight at Oscar's stunned face. "Yer gonna pay fer all da stuff you done Osca Delancy. You killed too many people fer yer own good." He said harshly. Oscar's surprise faded away momentarily. "Oh really. Who's ya ta say dat dey didn't desieve it?" He asked. "I know dey didn't 'cause me fadda neva did nothin' wrong in his life. Believe me Osca, you don't wanna mess wit' me." Wolf hissed.

Suddenly there was a flick of Wolf's wrist and a moment later a shot rang out as Oscar grasped his wrist, blood spurting from between his fingers. "I tol' ya not ta mess wit' me. Now yer gonna git it." Wolf said proudly. To the boys' surprise, between the pain on his face, Oscar was smiling. "Yer good kid. But you ain't dat good." The hand that had formerly rested on his shattered wrist, flew to his side and another gunshot rang out. Wolf grasped his shoulder, his eyes wide with pain. "I woulda tought it was obvious dat you don't mess wit' me." Oscar said.

Wolf's eyes were wide with pain as the blood slowly seeped through his fingers. Quincy grabbed the gun from the floor and aimed it, but Wolf's hand came down on it. "Not yet." He whispered, pushing the pistol down. "You really are stupid." Oscar said cooly. "Oh yeah? An' yer not? You didn't expect dat I'd shoot ya!" Wolf yelled angrily. Oscar shrugged his shoulders and pulled out his pistol. "Now you'll see what becomes of guys who mess with me." Oscar said, his eyes wide with evil pleasure. Sketch couldn't take it any longer. He stood in front of Oscar and glared at him. Oscar's uninjured hand, clutched the table as he stared at the boy in front of him. "What the? How in the world did you bunch of street rats get a Conlon on your side?" Oscar whispered, his eyes fixed on Sketch's determined face. Wolf looked at Oscar as if he was crazy. "What are you tawkin' 'bout? Dis ain't a Conlon! He's Mike Hansen." Wolf said.

Oscar shook his head and stood up. "You are so stupid. Doncha know nothin'? Dats Sketch Conlon. I shoulda done away wit' yer fadda when I had da chance ta. Yer fadda an' his whole family. Why I had ta focus on the Higgins last time, I dunno. It woulda been sheer genius if I had just stuck wit' da Conlons an' get ta Bright Eyes dat way. How could I have been so stupid?" Oscar yelled angrily, slamming the table for emphasis. Wolf looked at Oscar then turned to Sketch. "Yer Sketch Conlon?" He whispered in disbelief. Sketch looked away from him. "Yeah. I am." Sketch answered. Wolf's face paled as Oscar laughed loudly. "This is perfect! I have da oldest kid of Brooklyn! I kin do whateva I want 'cause right about now yer fadda's ready ta do anytin' ta git his precious baby boy back." Oscar sneered. Sketch's head shot up. "Whaddya mean?" He whispered. "He'll do anytin'. An' now I'll take advantage of Spot Conlon's only weakness. His kids." Oscar hissed.

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