Free Companies Inc. Presents:

Brooklyn

A Newsies fanfic by Keza: Queen of Procrastination

(Chapter Two)

AN: Another reminder. I often fail to write in the NY dialect our characters speak so well in. So, while reading this, try to picture the characters talking with that accent. If I remember I'll certainly try to write in that style, but wouldn't that just make it more confusing? Whoops, rambling again. Sorry guys. Oh, and mucho gracias for the reviewers. Yay.

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So this is what he had been reduced to.

Merry Kolton, alias Mercy. Infamous nineteen year old mercenary living in modern times. Reduced to selling papers for a living. He didn't even have to sell the papers – Spot was paying Mercy a fairly hefty fee just to work for him. But apparently doing penny work like this was all part of "the plan," whatever that was. Mercy supposed doing honest work was a little better than the grunt jobs he was used to. Still, he missed the action and excitement sorely.

Mercy parted with the other Brooklyn newsies as soon as he paid for his papers and quickly made his way to the end of the Bridge, a selling spot Ore had suggested to him a few days ago. It was a bit windy, but other than that the weather was fair and a good amount of traffic found its way to Mercy and his papers. He had just completed his 50th sale when the wind picked up, and the brunette noticed dark clouds gathering – the wind was blowing towards Brooklyn. 'Fandamntastic,' Mercy grumbled to himself, selling another paper to a hurried man who would most likely use it for a makeshift umbrella than for the news. He shaded his eyes against the disappearing sun and watched the clouds wearily. The air had an aura of familiarity to it – like déjà vu.

"And shouldn't it?" Mercy said out loud, suddenly recalling the past event. "It's what got you into this whole deal in the first place." A gray squirrel paused on the ground and listened to the mumblings for a moment, then lost interest and promptly forgot what the hell it was doing. It decided to climb a tree instead. "What a classic setting," Mercy continued, voice slipping into an amused tone. Yes, it was just like this… His mind took an involuntary trip back in time...

+venture into the past+

Merry Kolton, alias Mercy, frowned at the approaching storm. It was going to hit hard, he could already tell. Rain, not good. It made the cobblestones much more slippery and perilous, the last thing he wanted for a job like this. 'Nothing blood wouldn't do,' his inner self remarked. He ventured casually from his position at the end of the Brooklyn Bridge and paused a moment to survey his surroundings.

Hardly anyone was out and about, the storm having long been spotted, discouraging all but the most determined citizens from going outside.

"I don't care what you do," Silence had reminded him. "Do whatever is necessary. But get rid of Spot Conlon. Do it cleanly, in an abandoned alley. Torture him in front of the whole damned city. I don't care. Just get it done and I'll pay you and you'll be off."

Just another job for Mercy. Just like the countless other ones before it. Blackmail? You got it. Stalking? Sure, why not? Assassination? Just give ol' Mercy a call. Someone needs a little 'talking to?' Mercy's just in the next alley. He was a loner, indifferent to most things. Many viewed him as cold hearted. This was probably true. While working as a mercenary certainly wasn't the cleanest work, it got the bills paid. Oh, it got them paid, and with plenty of money to spare.

The barely-distinguishable sound of a bell quickly retrieved Mercy from his musings. Spot Conlon, a short, skinny boy, emerged from the grocer on the corner, a small bundle of flowers shielded protectively under his arm. 'Right on time,' Mercy thought with a smirk. Whoever was in charge of Silence's spying had done a good job. Ferret, was it? Mercy had never been good with names. He usually didn't have to remember them long.

Mercy adjusted the cap on his head and lowered shocking green eyes, keeping his head down as he followed Spot at a safe distance. He knew the boy was extremely paranoid, as most region leaders are, so he had to be extra careful on that night.

"Keep the slingshot in mind!" Silence's lilting voice rang through his mind unbidden. "You can beat him at close range, but you won't have nothing if he gets the chance to use his sling!" Never mind the fact that his cronies were most likely hiding nearby. Mercy stuffed his hands in his pockets and shuffled along the cobblestones at a fast walk, easily mimicking a typical person trying to get out of the coming rain. That was basically what he was doing, anyway.

Lucky for him Spot seemed quite distracted that night. Mercy had no doubt in his mind that the flowers he carried were an obvious hint. 'Even tough Brooklyn leaders gotta have their girls,' Mercy chuckled to himself. He walked faster, removing a thin piano wire from one of his pockets as he did so. Spot still seemed oblivious to his presence, although Mercy had gained a sizeable amount of ground on him. Mercy allowed himself to relax slightly. Spot had stopped near the end of an alley and didn't seem to be aware of his surroundings at all. Mercy seized the chance and quickly crossed the remaining space between them, whipping the weighted end of the wire across the front of Spot's neck, catching and crossing the wire and securing Spot's arms behind him before the boy even knew what had hit him.

Or that was how it was supposed to work.

That was how it had always worked in the past. But usually Mercy's victims were unprepared. Spot was exactly the opposite. Mercy groaned inwardly as he felt the prick of a knife at his side. He locked his arms in place, making sure that Spot only had limited movement of his hands and drew the wire a bit tighter. Spot stuck the tip of the knife in Mercy's side, as if to remind him who was in charge. But neither of them were. It was a standoff, a tie. Mercy sneered and kicked the forgotten flowers out from under his feet scornfully. Spot answered by twisting the knife. Mercy countered with a slight pull of the wire.

"Silence?" Spot gasped finally.

"Who else?" Mercy answered, gritting his teeth. It wasn't any secret that Silence was dying to take charge of Brooklyn. It wasn't any secret that he would do anything it took to take Spot down. This included hiring people like Mercy.

"Bastard," Spot muttered, swallowing painfully. "Probably nice and warm right now too." The rain was really starting to come down.

"You were prepared," Mercy commented dryly. "Congratulations."

"I'm always prepared," Spot informed him. Mercy rolled his eyes but said nothing. Spot managed to twist his neck around enough to look up into Mercy's recognizable eyes. "Ah. Mercy. Should have known."

"At your service," said Mercy. Emotion had fled from his voice.

"Working for someone like Silence?" talking was becoming increasingly difficult for the Brooklynder. Mercy considered loosing the wire a bit, but soon abandoned the idea. Not everybody is true to their nicknames.

"He offers the best price," he said finally.

"Oh, of course," there was a long pause. "And how much would I have to pay you to stop strangling me?"

"And work for you instead?"

"Well… If you really felt the need to," Mercy couldn't help but roll his eyes again. Egotistical bastard. But he was in it for the money, not the personal relations.

"More than he's paying me right now."

"And how much is that?" Mercy leaned down, tightening the wire slightly and whispered into his ear.

"WHAT? How the hell am I supposed to meet that?" Mercy shrugged. "Besides, if I were you I wouldn't really be the one trying to cut a deal. It only takes a flick of my wrist to stick this knife through ya."

"And only a flick of mine to stop whatever breath you have left." Another long silence followed this comment, only broken by Spot's rasping breaths.

"Where the hell is Wood when ya need em?" Spot muttered to himself. Mercy smiled grimly.

"Yes, where are all your friends?" No answer again. Another pause. Spot seemed to be gathering breath. Mercy couldn't blame him. Being slowly choked to death was never a pleasant experience.

"Fine. I'll pay more than Silence," he said quietly.

"How much more?"

"Half."

"Good enough for me," Mercy shrugged again and dropped the wire at the same time that Spot released his hold on his knife. Spot coughed hoarsely for a few moments before doubling over and emptying his stomach. Meanwhile Mercy backed away a few steps and examined his own position, holding the knife in place. Luckily Spot hadn't gone too far in, but it would still bleed a fair amount. He tore of a piece of an already ripped sleeve with his teeth and quickly yanked the knife out, wadding the cloth and pressing it tightly to his side. Spot retrieved his knife and one of the crumpled flowers, smiling wistfully.

"Beth won't care if I was strangled half to death or not, she'll be plenty mad at me for not showing up tonight," Mercy glanced up and started following Spot back to the lodging house.

"So Beth's the girl, eh? Do I know her?" Spot's smile turned sour.

"Probably. Beth Ezran. The Heartbreaker." Mercy's laugh echoed around the small alley, causing him to clutch his side with a grimace.

"Heh heh. Yeah, I know her," he chuckled again. "Know her quite well, in fact." Spot narrowed his eyes and they walked the rest of the way in silence, still wary of one another.

"So are you gonna tell Silence or not?" he asked as they approached the house entrance.

"Nah. He'll figure it out soon enough."

"Damn. I was looking forward to seeing the look on his face."

"Heh."

+forced back to the present+

'One mistake and you're sellin' papes,' Mercy thought grumpily, the first drops of rain beginning to fall. He decided to change tactics.

"Umbrellas! Penny a piece! Spare a penny and keep yerself dry! Thank you ma'm… UMBRELLAS!"

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NOTE: I'm almost positive someone is going to be complaining about the whole "standoff" situation. I have two explanations: 1) It's my story, so it works. 2) If you're really concerned about it, say so in a review and I'll try to explain it next chapter. Or something.

Woo! I wrote this whole chapter in one sitting! It's about 1:00am right now. I drank two mugs of Yorkshire tea (really, really, REALLY strong English tea) this afternoon to ensure that I'd be awake, cause I write best late at night. Ouch. Not good for my contacts though. -rubs eyes- erK. So, if your enjoying this, go ahead and check out

http://freewebz.com/wots

That's the site I've been working on for my writing. ANYHOO it's late, I'm rambling, good night. {end self promotion}