A.N.- 3 and a half pages! Am I good or what? I think you guys will be quite happy with this chapter, and I apologize profusely for not having written for such a long while. Ok, here's the deal, I'm leaving on a month long vacation next Thursday, (not this coming Thursday, but the Thursday after it, June 20) During that time, I won't be able to write any more.

Now, if I get at least 15 reviews before this coming Sunday,(no one- liners!), I will FINISH this story and have it posted before I leave on vacation. How about that? Just think, in less than two weeks you will know the ending of this. And in a month, you will begin to read the next several stories I have half-finished in this series, about what happens following Mirror Image.

Okay, well, we'll just see what happens, shall we? Ta-ta!

Oh yeah! The astericks (*) indicate their thought, because italics do not upload on fanfiction.net Enjoy!



Chapter 10:

Spot swung his cane back and forth on his arm, gazing down alleyways and across streets. His expression was unreadable, calm and collected per usual. Anyone seeing the Brooklyn leader would never guess the turmoil his thoughts were in.

*No one has evah been mistaken fer me since I was eight years old. Stupid impostah. Bringin' back stupid memories. I'll get him when we find him.*

*Is he down dere? Nope, just boxes.*

*Now I know what's been goin' on lately. Da gang's been reportin' back ta da impostah, which is why I have no clue what's happenin', yet dey assume I do.*

*I hate dat impostah.*

*What time is it? Fifteen minutes til midnight. Bettah get back ta da Lodgin' House.*

*If dat little joik ain't dere when I get back, dere'll be a man hunt in New York dat'll be in all da papes. Den people can see da power a Brooklyn in action.*

***

Michaela dug her feet into the ground, with little effect. The Queens newsies dragged her and she ended up being pulled by her feet along the dirt.

"STOP! I AIN'T DA BROOKLYN LEADAH! I AIN'T SPOT CONLON! LEMME GO! I TELL YOU I AIN'T SPOT!" Fists stopped, and with a flick of his wrist signaled his newsies to drop her legs.

He bent over, grabbing her slingshot and staring into her eyes. "I'se hoid lots a t'ings 'bout da famous Brooklyn leadah," he said, so quiet only she heard him. "but I ain't never hoid what a chicken he is."

Michaela stared back at him, unashamed, "well, den it's a good t'ing I ain't him."

Fists stood up, sneering. He turned the slingshot over in his hand, and Michaela's eyes flickered nervously to it. "You'se won't be needin' dis."

Michaela held her breath, but to her surprise he didn't break it. Fists tucked it into his pants and patted it, "But I will."

Another signal and they were moving on stealthily to the Lodging House, just up ahead.

***

"JACK! JACK!!!!!"

A clamor outside of Medda's made most of her audience murmur irritably and Medda herself to smile self-consciously, eyes darting from side to side looking for the newsie in question.

"Lemme go, I have ta find Jack!" A tall skinny boy pushed past Toby and ran into the auditorium.

Medda stopped singing and gazed at a balcony in the center of the room. A figure stood up and waved his hand, "I'm heah, what is it Bronny?"

The newsie glanced around at the crowd who eyed him curiously. "Uh, maybe we'se should go outside."

Jack laughed, calming the other newsies and Medda. He casually walked outside, but as soon as he was out of view, dropped the pose. "What's wrong?"

Bronny leaned down and placed his hands on his knees, breathing heavily. "Brooklyn's havin' a bit of trouble dese days. Spot told me ta tell youse dat you need to watch all yer newsies, keep dem inside. A fight wit' Queens was interrupted, and Spot don't t'ink dey'll be all dat patient ta finish it. Dey may attack even yer newsies. Spot says dat he'll be down soon, and not ta answer any questions."

Jack rubbed his forehead for a minute, nodded and walked back inside.

***

Clips shook his head as he made his way over to Spinz, who sighed. "Man, Spot's really mad. I don't even blame him. What kinda tough gang are we if we'se can't even recognize our own leadah?"

Kix kicked the building. A group of restless Brooklyn newsies waited in front of the Lodging House, looking around for Spot.

Several minutes later, one of the boys turned around and found Spot standing next to him, muttering to himself. "Spot! No one could find him. We'se don't know wheah he is."

Spot glanced up at him briefly, "I know."

The newsies waited for their orders, and at last Spot spoke again. "Ok, everyone up ta bed. We have a fight tamorra, and aftah dat we'se gonna find dat joik. Go."

Grumbling, the newsies headed inside. Spinz stepped inside the door first, shaking his head. Suddenly he crumpled to the ground, blood trickling down his side.

Chaos ensued.

***

Michaela pounded on the door of Spot's bedroom. "LET ME OUTTA HEAH! I AIN'T SPOT! I DON'T CARE ABOUT YER STUPID TERRITORY! LET ME OUT!!!!!"

She kicked it hard, but the door was made of solid wood and she barely left an indent. Michaela spun around on her heel and marched over to the window, gazing down once more on the unsuspecting Brooklyn newsies below. As she watched, a group of newsies headed towards the door. "Don't! It's a trap, you'se bettah watch out," she whispered, hopelessly.

The one boy (Spinz?) stepped out of her line of view towards the door, and Michaela's anger flared again. "DON'T, IT'S A TRAP!!!!!" she screamed, pounding on the window with her fists.

She could see Spot, the newsies she had been mistaken for, turn around suddenly and turn angry. A sudden commotion began in the ranks and they all ran towards the door, pulling out slingshots and shooters.

The most experienced shooters began arranging themselves in a definite, obviously well-rehearsed, pattern. Shooting at and breaking any windows the saw movement behind, the Brooklyn newsies began fighting back with a zest. Their Lodging House may be destroyed, but no one gets the better of Brooklyn and gets away with it.

Michaela jumped back from the window, holding her pillow over her head to protect herself from window glass. *And I thought Brooklyn would be fun*, she thought drily.

***

Spot shouted orders to the scattered newsies. They began to pull themselves together and fight back. Spot shoved newsies out of the way, fighting to get to the door. He reached it, knocked the Queens newsies out of the way, and knelt down next to Spinz.

"Spinz! C'mon man, wake up," he muttered, checking the flow of blood. He ripped off the corner of his shirt, holding it again the wound. It wasn't deep, it looked more like it would be a bruise than anything else. Someone had definitely taken a club to him.

Spot pulled Spinz out of the way of fighting, and stood up. He looked around at all the chaos, shaking his head. An angry glint appeared in his eyes as he saw a fleeting glimpse of Fists up the stairs. *Dis is gonna end right now.*

***

Michaela heard a commotion outside the door of Spot's room. "Brooklyn is regaining control, we need to show them Spot."

The door opened, and Fists reached in and grabbed her arm, yanking her off the bed. He obviously did not have a pleasant experience in mind, so Michaela did what any self-respecting, street-rat would do. She dug in her heels, leaned backwards with her one hand, grabbed a stick that was leaning against the dresser and whacked Fists upside the head with it.

Fists let go of her arm, holding his head in pain. He dropped his hands after a moment and took a step closer to her. Michaela backed into the room. He stared at her menacingly, and reached out a hand, "Give me da cane."

Michaela glanced down at the stick in surprise, and then shock took over. She stared at her brother's birthday present in disbelief, her eyes drinking in every detail of Michael's cherished cane. *Oh my-*

Fists reached over and grabbed the cane out of her loose grasp, raising it to hit her. Michaela backed up again, when suddenly the cane was pulled from Fists hands.

Fists spun around angrily, when he stopped dead. "What da-"

Spot stood there, tapping his cane against his hand, several Queens newsies moaning on the ground at his feet.



*To Be Continued*



WAIT!!!! Read this!!!!!

A.N.-I strongly suggest that those of you who are at all interested in this story, and have not already read the author's note at the top of this page, do so now.