Disclaimer-I own nothing Newsies related. It's all Disney
Part 4: Bluffing Ain't Cheating
Spot didn't think he'd ever run the distance between the Bronx lodgings and Brooklyn's faster, yet it seemed as if everything was going in slow motion. His chest and legs felt on fire, but that made no more than a small awareness in his brain. He was too rapped up in his fury at himself and guilty terror for his newsies to think of anything else. Faintly he began to hear the pounding and voices of the three newsies he had picked up on his way to the Bronx chasing after him. Slash, Slugger and No Neck, three good ones of his. Why hadn't he sent one of them back to Brooklyn, to make sure Rummy had passed on the message?
Rummy. The sudden thought of him threw all of Spot's fury in his direction. The scab. The lying, rotten, soon to be dead traitor! Sure, it had been Spot's fault for trusting him. He would have to answer to that, no matter what the consequences were. But first he had to destroy Rummy. Soak him, torture him, make him squeal for mercy and then punish him some more. Spot had never soaked anyone bad enough to kill them. He'd come close, but most of the time he'd been able to pull himself back at the last minute, and the few times his temper was too out of control, Jack or one of his boys had done something. He was grateful to them for those times, but felt that neither he nor anyone who witnessed his dealing with Rummy would mind him going all the way.
It had begun to rain slightly. Spot would not have noticed if he hadn't heard a faint whimper of, "No.rain.God, help.me..freezing." The voice was weak, and belonged to a crumpled up body laying on the street, not too far from the bridge. There was something familiar in it, but no. It couldn't be Carver. Spot's newsies didn't whimper.they didn't get beaten that badly..
Breathless, trembling with what he could only admit to himself was fear, Spot slowly approached the fallen figure and knelt beside it. Gently touching the shoulder, Spot was the recipient of a bloodied, toothless, broken Carver. Carver, who towered above Spot. Carver, who was eighteen and about to leave the newsies for a real job on a fishing boat. Carver who was smart and attractive and loyal and someone who had once got a few good punches in on Spot when he had just come on board, but who had turned out to be a trustworthy and fearless newsie.
Spot couldn't speak. He couldn't think. Carver took a minute to acknowledge who he was, and then he teared up. In a broken voice, he whispered, "I'm.so.sorry, Spotty. I.sent the others out looking for you.and.Badger."
Spot found his voice. "What others?"
"When.they.didn't come back, I tried to go.after them. But.we got hit. I tried to.chase them out.I .almost made it, Spot.see how close I am to the bridge.I almost.chased them out.away from the others..but they went back for them.."
Carver's voice was failing. Spot gingerly reached for his hand, but then pulled it back. Comfort was not what Carver would want. He was a Brooklyn newsie. He wanted Spot the leader, not Spot the healer or Spot the comforter. Spot gripped Carver's shoulder, and said strongly, "You sure did. You're a Brooklyn newsie, through and through. When we hit 'em back, you get first crack at Count. Ya earned it."
Carver smiled weakly. "Do it for me, Spot. I'll be watching.somewhere.if what my mother always said is true."
Spot shook his head vehemently, but Carver said, insistently despite his tiring frame, "I ain't scared about nothing. Go.and see the others.they should be around somewhere back there.take care a' them, like ya always.do. You'd be proud of them."
"They shouldn't want my praise, especially since I let this happen to you all. And I ain't leaving you." With that, Spot began hoisting Carver up, supporting the larger boy's frame. Carver groaned, then said, "Don't waste the resources.there's plenty of newsies who can make it.take care of them, first.then.come back for the lost causes."
"Carver, you're a lost cause at slingshots. But you ain't never gonna let some Harlem scum make you a lost cause, ya from Brooklyn. I got three other guys who'll pick up the others. If everyone's hands are full, and there is someone worse off then you, ill dump your ass and pick them up. But I doubt there will be. Agreed?" Not bothering to listen to him, Spot began to trek back to the house. By this time, all the other newsies who had followed him had caught up. Jack and No Neck offered to take Carver, but Spot refused. Instead he said, "Spread out guys! Find the Brooklyn newsies in the streets like Carver. If they're really bad off, take them to the hospital, if not, back to the lodge, ill meet you there."
Spot got a dark, menacing piercing in his eyes that all noticed. Only Jack had the guts to step forward and say, "I'll come with you, Spot. I won't interfere, unless I see your gonna do something stupid that you can't see because your too worried and mad because of your boys. You'd do the same for me."
Spot turned to Jack, and the look he gave him was frighteningly calm. "I ain't gonna regret killing the bastard. You get in my way, ill soak you too." With that, he slung Carver carefully into Jack's arms, saying, "Take him to a hospital! I got business to finish." With that, he took off down the dark alley.
Jack sighed. He couldn't blame Spot. And anyway, Rummy was the only reasonable reason Jack could think of as to why this had happened. He hoped Spot didn't kill him, until they had assessed the damages and determined what should be done, but looking at Carver, Jack couldn't help thinking that if this were one of his newsies, he'd kill Rummy. Then he saw Carver stir.
He tried to calm him, but the next words Carver spoke shut everyone up. "Spot..is wrong.its.not.Rummy.." Thrusting Carver off for a third time, Jack tore off after Spot, leaving the others to the orders Spot had left them.
There's a first time for everything. Kitty had said that about Rummy's first time stealing. Probing his disjointed shoulder, he now had the same thought about fighting. Only this time he hoped there would be no follow- up. Rummy hadn't faired that well in the battle, but he certainly wasn't the worst off. But then, the worst off where the guys who had done the best fighting, they'd retaliated better than he had, and had suffered worse consequences. Seeing as he was nothing compared to them, he'd gotten off fairly easily. It had only been when he began giving some sound strategy to the others, mainly, find Spot and try to get as close to Manhattan as possible for reinforcements, that he'd been knocked out.
By the time he'd recovered, the loft was almost empty, except for some seriously injured newsies, a few trying to help them, and the dead body of Badger. It was lying on his bunk, having been defended to the bitter end by the Brooklyn newsies when Count's goons had attacked. Rummy's mother had been a nurse, so he was a bit informed as to treating some of the newsies. Also, a lot of it was simple common sense. Treat the ones who stand the best chance first, and when they got word that Harlem was gone, take the seriously wounded to the hospital. Silently, most had followed his suggestion, but a few were stuck by the lost causes. Rummy didn't disturb them, figuring that they needed companionship more than medical treatment at the moment.
Rummy attempted to take the pulse of one of the younger newsies, to which he received none. Emotionlessly closing the child's eyes, he moved on to wash out and wrap an arm wound on another when a racket up the stairs made him turn in alarm. All the newsies stood up, battered but more than willing to battle. To their relief, the wet and disordered appearance of Spot stood in the doorway. The few words of praise or anger where immediately silenced when seeing Spot's expression. His thunderous eyes scanned the room slowly, before landing harshly on Rummy. His lip curled up in hatred, and his hand removed his cane. Firmly he began to walk towards Rummy, never uttering a word until he stood only a few feet from him, daring Rummy to speak.
Rummy was slightly confused. He could understand Spot's fury, but it all seemed directed at him. He hadn't been that bad in the fight, he'd tried his best, and he was helping now. What could Spot possibly be ready to murder him for? Unless.
Rummy's eyes widened in realization. Holding his hands up before him, he stammered, "No Spot, it isn't what you think, I didn't.." Before he could say anything else, Spot's cane connected with the center of his face. Rummy reeled backwards, clutching his bloody, broken nose. All the other newsies were too shocked to move, and all Spot did as he advanced again was cluck his tongue mockingly and say, "Don't worry. Soon I'll fix it for you so you'll never have to worry about coming up with another lie again. Especially when your dead, you God damn scab!"
The next few minutes were a blur for Rummy. He was no match for Spot, even a sick but enraged Spot. Spot was a fast fighter, but he was also a calculating one. He didn't make mad, missing swings. He was vaguely aware that his jaw popped, his ribs' snapped, and his head thudded when Spot threw him across the room. Then suddenly, the barrage stopped. Rummy tried to clear his head, but couldn't. It didn't make sense for Spot to stop. He was injured, sure, but he was sure Spot wouldn't stop until he was dead. For what Spot thought he had done, it only made sense for Spot to kill him, unless he was getting a worse weapon to use on him. That would make sense.
Suddenly he heard a voice that did not belong to Brooklyn. Or in Brooklyn. After a moment, he realized it belonged to Jack, the cowboy guy. Shifting his head painfully, he saw Jack and several of the Brooklyn newsies barely holding Spot back. They were trying to calm him, but all Spot did was shout, "Let go a' me, Jack! I swear, ill kill you too! And guys, I don't care if you don't want me as your leader anymore, I understand that, just let me take care of this guy for ya first! We owe it to kill him!"
"That's what we been trying to say Spot! First of all, he don't deserve it, if you'd listen, and second, you neither would nor could kill me, so knock off the empty threats and shut up!" Jack's voice was not as loud as Spot's, but at the moment it commanded more authority. It reminded Rummy the way Spot had first spoken to him when they met at the docks. Eventually Spot stopped struggling, and the newsies eased off, with Jack letting one hand rest on Spot's shoulder. Rummy wondering if Spot would have let him do so if he realized it.
No one spoke. Finally, Rummy decided to be the first. It was hard looking into such eyes of stone, cold, hatred and malice, but he forced himself to. "First off Spot, I get why you almost killed me."
"Don't forgive me yet, I'm still planning on it if ya don't give me a good reason not to in the next ten seconds." Spot's voice was lower, but he still looked ready to pounce.
"Fine. Right to the chase. You think I didn't tell Badger what you told me. Well, I did. I'd say ask Badger, but you can't, since he's dead." Rummy gestured toward the limp body of Badger. At the sight, both Spot's and Jack's faces dropped, while the others looked downwards. The hard façade of Spot's cracked a bit as he crossed over to Badger and felt Badger's hand before ripping his back. He focused his eyes on Badger. Rummy, feeling disgusted with himself for the curt way he said that, continued.
"I told him at lunch. Then I left him there. He said to be back at the lodge at seven, so I went and did some gambling. Amazingly the bulls weren't around, and Badger said he was going to tell everyone not to plan on selling this evening, so I figured, why not? I came back around seven, and no one had seen Badger. I thought that was strange, and asked who the last person was to talk to him and realized it was me. I pulled Carver aside and told him that Badger said he had something important to tell the newsies, and Carver sent a search party out. Well, awhile went by, and no one returned from the search party, but two others did come back, carrying Badger's body. When we saw that, I told everyone what you said, and Carver and some of the others were heading out after you and the search party when.it.happened. They came up here, tons of them, and we weren't ready."
Rummy paused. "I could have told them earlier, right when I found out that Badger hadn't. But I didn't, I thought it best to find him first because maybe he had a reason not to. So in that respect, I did wait longer than I should have, though I didn't know it at the time. It was a bad judgment, and I want to be kicked for that, but it wasn't on purpose. I swear."
Silence followed. Rummy could hear his heart and head beat, as well as his jaw crack. He was amazed he had been able to talk. Watching Spot, he could tell Spot had listened, even though his eyes never left Badger till he was done. Finally turning to face him, he said, "Whatever. It was still a bad idea trusting you. It's my fault I did that." He said this quietly, and then slowly left the room. Emotionlessly closing the door behind him, Spot left everyone speechless. Rummy turned to Jack as Jack said to him, "That ain't about you, what he said." Rummy nodded. He stopped Jack from going after Spot, saying, "There's something I gotta say to him first, Jack. And he needs to hear it from someone of Brooklyn, even if I'm not that good a specimen."
Jack looked dubious, but finally agreed. "It can't take that long though." He looked into Rummy's eyes seriously, conveying the levity of the situation. "He needs to be here for Brooklyn and his newsies now, and he needs to believe that." Rummy nodded again, and quickly followed after Spot.
Part 4: Bluffing Ain't Cheating
Spot didn't think he'd ever run the distance between the Bronx lodgings and Brooklyn's faster, yet it seemed as if everything was going in slow motion. His chest and legs felt on fire, but that made no more than a small awareness in his brain. He was too rapped up in his fury at himself and guilty terror for his newsies to think of anything else. Faintly he began to hear the pounding and voices of the three newsies he had picked up on his way to the Bronx chasing after him. Slash, Slugger and No Neck, three good ones of his. Why hadn't he sent one of them back to Brooklyn, to make sure Rummy had passed on the message?
Rummy. The sudden thought of him threw all of Spot's fury in his direction. The scab. The lying, rotten, soon to be dead traitor! Sure, it had been Spot's fault for trusting him. He would have to answer to that, no matter what the consequences were. But first he had to destroy Rummy. Soak him, torture him, make him squeal for mercy and then punish him some more. Spot had never soaked anyone bad enough to kill them. He'd come close, but most of the time he'd been able to pull himself back at the last minute, and the few times his temper was too out of control, Jack or one of his boys had done something. He was grateful to them for those times, but felt that neither he nor anyone who witnessed his dealing with Rummy would mind him going all the way.
It had begun to rain slightly. Spot would not have noticed if he hadn't heard a faint whimper of, "No.rain.God, help.me..freezing." The voice was weak, and belonged to a crumpled up body laying on the street, not too far from the bridge. There was something familiar in it, but no. It couldn't be Carver. Spot's newsies didn't whimper.they didn't get beaten that badly..
Breathless, trembling with what he could only admit to himself was fear, Spot slowly approached the fallen figure and knelt beside it. Gently touching the shoulder, Spot was the recipient of a bloodied, toothless, broken Carver. Carver, who towered above Spot. Carver, who was eighteen and about to leave the newsies for a real job on a fishing boat. Carver who was smart and attractive and loyal and someone who had once got a few good punches in on Spot when he had just come on board, but who had turned out to be a trustworthy and fearless newsie.
Spot couldn't speak. He couldn't think. Carver took a minute to acknowledge who he was, and then he teared up. In a broken voice, he whispered, "I'm.so.sorry, Spotty. I.sent the others out looking for you.and.Badger."
Spot found his voice. "What others?"
"When.they.didn't come back, I tried to go.after them. But.we got hit. I tried to.chase them out.I .almost made it, Spot.see how close I am to the bridge.I almost.chased them out.away from the others..but they went back for them.."
Carver's voice was failing. Spot gingerly reached for his hand, but then pulled it back. Comfort was not what Carver would want. He was a Brooklyn newsie. He wanted Spot the leader, not Spot the healer or Spot the comforter. Spot gripped Carver's shoulder, and said strongly, "You sure did. You're a Brooklyn newsie, through and through. When we hit 'em back, you get first crack at Count. Ya earned it."
Carver smiled weakly. "Do it for me, Spot. I'll be watching.somewhere.if what my mother always said is true."
Spot shook his head vehemently, but Carver said, insistently despite his tiring frame, "I ain't scared about nothing. Go.and see the others.they should be around somewhere back there.take care a' them, like ya always.do. You'd be proud of them."
"They shouldn't want my praise, especially since I let this happen to you all. And I ain't leaving you." With that, Spot began hoisting Carver up, supporting the larger boy's frame. Carver groaned, then said, "Don't waste the resources.there's plenty of newsies who can make it.take care of them, first.then.come back for the lost causes."
"Carver, you're a lost cause at slingshots. But you ain't never gonna let some Harlem scum make you a lost cause, ya from Brooklyn. I got three other guys who'll pick up the others. If everyone's hands are full, and there is someone worse off then you, ill dump your ass and pick them up. But I doubt there will be. Agreed?" Not bothering to listen to him, Spot began to trek back to the house. By this time, all the other newsies who had followed him had caught up. Jack and No Neck offered to take Carver, but Spot refused. Instead he said, "Spread out guys! Find the Brooklyn newsies in the streets like Carver. If they're really bad off, take them to the hospital, if not, back to the lodge, ill meet you there."
Spot got a dark, menacing piercing in his eyes that all noticed. Only Jack had the guts to step forward and say, "I'll come with you, Spot. I won't interfere, unless I see your gonna do something stupid that you can't see because your too worried and mad because of your boys. You'd do the same for me."
Spot turned to Jack, and the look he gave him was frighteningly calm. "I ain't gonna regret killing the bastard. You get in my way, ill soak you too." With that, he slung Carver carefully into Jack's arms, saying, "Take him to a hospital! I got business to finish." With that, he took off down the dark alley.
Jack sighed. He couldn't blame Spot. And anyway, Rummy was the only reasonable reason Jack could think of as to why this had happened. He hoped Spot didn't kill him, until they had assessed the damages and determined what should be done, but looking at Carver, Jack couldn't help thinking that if this were one of his newsies, he'd kill Rummy. Then he saw Carver stir.
He tried to calm him, but the next words Carver spoke shut everyone up. "Spot..is wrong.its.not.Rummy.." Thrusting Carver off for a third time, Jack tore off after Spot, leaving the others to the orders Spot had left them.
There's a first time for everything. Kitty had said that about Rummy's first time stealing. Probing his disjointed shoulder, he now had the same thought about fighting. Only this time he hoped there would be no follow- up. Rummy hadn't faired that well in the battle, but he certainly wasn't the worst off. But then, the worst off where the guys who had done the best fighting, they'd retaliated better than he had, and had suffered worse consequences. Seeing as he was nothing compared to them, he'd gotten off fairly easily. It had only been when he began giving some sound strategy to the others, mainly, find Spot and try to get as close to Manhattan as possible for reinforcements, that he'd been knocked out.
By the time he'd recovered, the loft was almost empty, except for some seriously injured newsies, a few trying to help them, and the dead body of Badger. It was lying on his bunk, having been defended to the bitter end by the Brooklyn newsies when Count's goons had attacked. Rummy's mother had been a nurse, so he was a bit informed as to treating some of the newsies. Also, a lot of it was simple common sense. Treat the ones who stand the best chance first, and when they got word that Harlem was gone, take the seriously wounded to the hospital. Silently, most had followed his suggestion, but a few were stuck by the lost causes. Rummy didn't disturb them, figuring that they needed companionship more than medical treatment at the moment.
Rummy attempted to take the pulse of one of the younger newsies, to which he received none. Emotionlessly closing the child's eyes, he moved on to wash out and wrap an arm wound on another when a racket up the stairs made him turn in alarm. All the newsies stood up, battered but more than willing to battle. To their relief, the wet and disordered appearance of Spot stood in the doorway. The few words of praise or anger where immediately silenced when seeing Spot's expression. His thunderous eyes scanned the room slowly, before landing harshly on Rummy. His lip curled up in hatred, and his hand removed his cane. Firmly he began to walk towards Rummy, never uttering a word until he stood only a few feet from him, daring Rummy to speak.
Rummy was slightly confused. He could understand Spot's fury, but it all seemed directed at him. He hadn't been that bad in the fight, he'd tried his best, and he was helping now. What could Spot possibly be ready to murder him for? Unless.
Rummy's eyes widened in realization. Holding his hands up before him, he stammered, "No Spot, it isn't what you think, I didn't.." Before he could say anything else, Spot's cane connected with the center of his face. Rummy reeled backwards, clutching his bloody, broken nose. All the other newsies were too shocked to move, and all Spot did as he advanced again was cluck his tongue mockingly and say, "Don't worry. Soon I'll fix it for you so you'll never have to worry about coming up with another lie again. Especially when your dead, you God damn scab!"
The next few minutes were a blur for Rummy. He was no match for Spot, even a sick but enraged Spot. Spot was a fast fighter, but he was also a calculating one. He didn't make mad, missing swings. He was vaguely aware that his jaw popped, his ribs' snapped, and his head thudded when Spot threw him across the room. Then suddenly, the barrage stopped. Rummy tried to clear his head, but couldn't. It didn't make sense for Spot to stop. He was injured, sure, but he was sure Spot wouldn't stop until he was dead. For what Spot thought he had done, it only made sense for Spot to kill him, unless he was getting a worse weapon to use on him. That would make sense.
Suddenly he heard a voice that did not belong to Brooklyn. Or in Brooklyn. After a moment, he realized it belonged to Jack, the cowboy guy. Shifting his head painfully, he saw Jack and several of the Brooklyn newsies barely holding Spot back. They were trying to calm him, but all Spot did was shout, "Let go a' me, Jack! I swear, ill kill you too! And guys, I don't care if you don't want me as your leader anymore, I understand that, just let me take care of this guy for ya first! We owe it to kill him!"
"That's what we been trying to say Spot! First of all, he don't deserve it, if you'd listen, and second, you neither would nor could kill me, so knock off the empty threats and shut up!" Jack's voice was not as loud as Spot's, but at the moment it commanded more authority. It reminded Rummy the way Spot had first spoken to him when they met at the docks. Eventually Spot stopped struggling, and the newsies eased off, with Jack letting one hand rest on Spot's shoulder. Rummy wondering if Spot would have let him do so if he realized it.
No one spoke. Finally, Rummy decided to be the first. It was hard looking into such eyes of stone, cold, hatred and malice, but he forced himself to. "First off Spot, I get why you almost killed me."
"Don't forgive me yet, I'm still planning on it if ya don't give me a good reason not to in the next ten seconds." Spot's voice was lower, but he still looked ready to pounce.
"Fine. Right to the chase. You think I didn't tell Badger what you told me. Well, I did. I'd say ask Badger, but you can't, since he's dead." Rummy gestured toward the limp body of Badger. At the sight, both Spot's and Jack's faces dropped, while the others looked downwards. The hard façade of Spot's cracked a bit as he crossed over to Badger and felt Badger's hand before ripping his back. He focused his eyes on Badger. Rummy, feeling disgusted with himself for the curt way he said that, continued.
"I told him at lunch. Then I left him there. He said to be back at the lodge at seven, so I went and did some gambling. Amazingly the bulls weren't around, and Badger said he was going to tell everyone not to plan on selling this evening, so I figured, why not? I came back around seven, and no one had seen Badger. I thought that was strange, and asked who the last person was to talk to him and realized it was me. I pulled Carver aside and told him that Badger said he had something important to tell the newsies, and Carver sent a search party out. Well, awhile went by, and no one returned from the search party, but two others did come back, carrying Badger's body. When we saw that, I told everyone what you said, and Carver and some of the others were heading out after you and the search party when.it.happened. They came up here, tons of them, and we weren't ready."
Rummy paused. "I could have told them earlier, right when I found out that Badger hadn't. But I didn't, I thought it best to find him first because maybe he had a reason not to. So in that respect, I did wait longer than I should have, though I didn't know it at the time. It was a bad judgment, and I want to be kicked for that, but it wasn't on purpose. I swear."
Silence followed. Rummy could hear his heart and head beat, as well as his jaw crack. He was amazed he had been able to talk. Watching Spot, he could tell Spot had listened, even though his eyes never left Badger till he was done. Finally turning to face him, he said, "Whatever. It was still a bad idea trusting you. It's my fault I did that." He said this quietly, and then slowly left the room. Emotionlessly closing the door behind him, Spot left everyone speechless. Rummy turned to Jack as Jack said to him, "That ain't about you, what he said." Rummy nodded. He stopped Jack from going after Spot, saying, "There's something I gotta say to him first, Jack. And he needs to hear it from someone of Brooklyn, even if I'm not that good a specimen."
Jack looked dubious, but finally agreed. "It can't take that long though." He looked into Rummy's eyes seriously, conveying the levity of the situation. "He needs to be here for Brooklyn and his newsies now, and he needs to believe that." Rummy nodded again, and quickly followed after Spot.
