CHAPTER 1:

"C'mon! Get her, Boxer!"

"Whatcha waiting fer?! Soak her!"

Michaela circled her opponent, undaunted by the shouts from his fans. She pressed her advantage, coming up under his arm to throw for a punch to his left eye. Dese are da times dat I'm glad I'm short, she thought, sidestepping his leg as he kicked out at her. The fight was soon over, her beaten enemy lying on the ground, battered and bruised. Michaela raised her head, glaring at the silent crowd around her, most of which had been cheering their heads off seconds earlier. She stood up, cast a disdainful look at the thug on the ground, and walked away casually.

Michaela glanced around out of habit for the Bulls, and seeing none, ducked into an alley. She fixed her hat, making sure it covered all traces of her long golden hair. I gotta remember ta keep me hat on. The last t'ing I want is more people finding out I'm a goil. Satisfied, she stepped out of the alley and strolled down the street. So...where next? I'se been ta Queens, Midtown, West Side, Manhattan's to boring ta go ta...Brooklyn? Her eyes glittered as she analyzed the possible ideal of Brooklyn. From what I've heard, it's very...active. I'll just see what it's like, she decided, blue eyes widely innocent, though her lips curved in a rather evil smile.

~*~*~*~*~

Clips glanced around the street anxiously. Lately, he and Kix had taken to selling in this particular section of town. Full of rich customers, it was ideal for a newsie. The area was somewhere between Brooklyn and Queens, so Spot and Fists, the leader of the Queens newsies, had declared the area a 'No Man's Land'. Every boy was allowed to sell there theoretically, but lately Queens had become overly protective of it. This had not gone over well with the territorial Brooklyn newsies, so now it was every newsie for himself. As far as Clips knew, Spot had no idea that his boys were getting into fights everytime they went into the 'No Man's Land'. Usually Spot knew about everything before it even happened, but Spot hadn't been around very much lately and his newsies had barely seen him.

Clips called out a headline and stuck the profits into his pocket. Maybe dey won't come around today. He thought hopefully, just as a large group of boys walked out of a side street and headed menacingly towards Clips and Kix. Wishful thinking. He sighed, and signaled Kix. He didn't feel like getting into a fight today, but Spot's newsies had never been known to back out of a fight before, and they weren't about to start now.

~*~*~*~

Michaela reached the Brooklyn Bridge and stood there, uncertain for a moment. Maybe I'se should wait awhile befoah goin' ta Brooklyn. I have dis feelin'... I'm not scared of da fights, dough. Dat's easy 'nough. It's jist... A voice in the back of her head whispered, If Michael was here, I would go inta Brooklyn no problem.

But he isn't, and hasn't been fer seven years, her expression hardened as she pushed painful memories from her mind. Michaela, youse can soak anyone ya choose, and yer scared ta go inta Brooklyn by yerself?! Michaela glanced down at her slingshot and her expression softened, remembering when she had first learned to use a slingshot.

"Michael! Watch me shoot! Michael! I can hit that leaf, watch!" She jumped aroun her 5-year old twin brother, waving the slingshot above her head.

"Ever since you taught me, I practiced! Didn't I? Watch, Michael!" She stopped moving and aimed the slingshot at a leaf in the big oak in their backyard. The marble hit the leaf hard and ripped it out of the tree.

Michael watched it flutter to the ground. Michaela ran towards him and threw her arms about his neck. He pulled away, embarrassed. "And here I thought I was the best, 'chaela."

She looked at him loyally. "You are," she said, then added smugly, "but I'm second best."

Michaela sighed, and turned her attention back to reality. She felt her hat, checked her slingshot, and confidently stepped onto the Brooklyn Bridge. She tensed, then berated herself, and confidently walked across the bride, into Brooklyn.

Several minutes later, she heard yells coming from the direction of the docks. I wonder what dat is? She picked up her pace, and reached a large crowd gathered around something. Michaela pushed her way roughly through to see what was the center of attention. A big, muscular teenage boy was picking on a small child who looked about six. Big bully, Michaela thought angrily as she stepped away from the group towards the teenager.

"Stop. Messin'. Wit'. Dat. Kid." She said between clenched teeth, clenching her fists and raising them. Of course she didn't think he would, considering she looked slightly less than menacing, being a whole foot and a half shorter than him. So you can understand her shock and surprise when the huge bully turned around and went white.

The boy quickly dropped his hand from the little kid's shirt who promptly ran away. "Coise, Spot," he stammered and dashed away. In fact, the entire crowd seemed to have disappeared. Michaela dropped her fists and looked around the deserted street in suprise.

"Who's Spot?"

~*~*~*~

Later that night, Spot Conlon walked into the Brooklyn Lodging House to find all the boys looking innocently up at him. A group was huddled in the corner, obviously trying to hide something.

"What is it?" Spot asked suspiciously.

"Not'in'. Just a poker game." Spot's second, Spinz said nervously.

"All, right. I'm goin' ta my room." Why do I not believe dem? He thought sarcastically.

Kix sighed in relief. Just as Clips had predicted, the odds hadn't been that great and they had both been soaked.

Spinz watched them in disapproval while one of the other newsies, nicknamed 'Doc' bandaged Clips arm to the best of his ability. "Ya know we can't keep Spot from finding out about this. He knows everythin' sooner or later. And ya know Loudmouth can't keep his mouth shut fer long." Loudmouth smiled slightly, opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by Kix.

"I know, I know. But what would Spot say if he knew his gang was gettin' soaked wit'in an inch of deir life all da time? Not dat it's our fault, or anyt'ing, considering dey always bring a gang of 'em against one or two of us. But, anyways," Kix ended on a pleading note, "we have ta try to keep it a secret for as long as we can."

"But you guys aren't da ones who are gonna be blamed when someone gets more den jist a sprained arm. I am." Spinz dabbed at the blood above Kix's eye.

"We can do what we always do when someone is hurt, keep a low profile til it's healed." Doc remained silent and listened to Clips argument with pinched lips.

Spinz shrugged in exasperation, and looked to Doc for help. "What do ya think, Doc?"

"I'm gettin' pretty tired of bandaging dese boys all da time. I see where Kix and Clips is comin' from, but first it was Sticks, den Flash and Muscles, den dese two. Sticks and Muscles are barely healed, and Flash has a black eye which it is just by good fortune dat Spot hasn't noticed yet." Doc said all this in one breath, then resumed his silence. He had just said as much in one breath as he usually did in a week, so the others knew they weren't going to get anything else out of him.

"Awright," Spinz said, "here's da deal. I'll keep quiet about dis, and I'll make sure Loudmouth does too," he pinned the boy with a glare that stopped him from any ideas he might have had, "but it's not my fault when someone gets really hurt and Spot's too mad at youse ta be mad at da Queens' newsies."