Brooklyn: Mortals

By Keza: Queen of Procrastination

AN: Mondie, I have one thing to say to you. "Whoa."

Anyhoo, I know what's going to be happening in this story, but I don't know how it's going to end. As a result, so chapters could be changed/updated, so keep an eye out for a note telling you to reread a certain chapter. In other news, I now have a shirt that says "Lower East Side." IS THAT COOL OR WHAT? ("Pie-eatah, Snoddy, East Side!")

+

Ruin had heard her approach, and now he could see her shadowed reflection in the river's small waves. She stood silently, like him, neither willing to be the first to speak. Above, the sun continued to rise, and the sounds of newsboys bickering and laughing could be heard distantly. A normal morning, in the eyes of an 'outsider.' And even to some 'insiders,' it was normal. Perhaps they hadn't seen the worst of the carnage of the night before. Perhaps they didn't even know. Or, perhaps, they just didn't care. It was an event on the past, nothing to be dwelled upon.

Some surviving shred of Ruin's conscience reminded him that he should care. That some of his friends may have not returned. That if he had been picked up, or even killed last night, people would have cared.

Right?

"You're ok," Spin said finally, stepping up and reaching a hand to his cheek. He turned his head away.

"Where'd you come from?" he asked numbly, his voice sounding strange even to his own ears. He had been standing here, on the edge of a dock, ever since Jack had come and left just as quickly.

"Well, Heart's flat," Spin answered, a trace of hurt in her voice. "Remember?"

Ruin blinked out at the water, then shook his bangs out of his eyes, wincing as pulled muscles were stretched sorely.

"Yeah," he said, looking at her for the first time, but still seeming distracted. "Yeah, of course."

Spin studied him, motherly concern in her eyes. Ruin shifted awkwardly under her gaze and looked at his fingers.

"What's wrong?" the protective tone her voice took on annoyed Ruin.

"Besides the obvious?" he asked bitterly.

"No. With you," she said, readying her patience for a long run. "What's wrong with you? Are you ok?'

"I'm fine."

"You don't look it."

"I'm fine!"

"Yeah?" Spin stepped closer and put a hand on his shoulder, leaning off of it like she sometimes did. Immediately Ruin spun away, gritting his teeth against crying out. Spin stayed where she was and looked down at her hand. Some blood showed on it, though not fresh. Most of the blood had dried and was matted to the back of Ruin's shirt. This kept more blood from escaping, but didn't stop the wound from being reopened, or prevent infection.

"Don't do that," Ruin breathed after a moment. "It's still… still a little sore."

"Well, you aren't selling today."

"I have to," Ruin said, not even considering her protest.

"No. We have to get you something for that. I know an infirmary that offers charitable-"

"I said I was fine, Spin," his voice was now warning. Spin glowered.

"Either way, you're going to end up at a hospital," Spin snapped. "And I'd rather walk you to it than drag your body behind me!" She took a few deep breaths, then stalked off. Ruin stood in silent shock at even this small outburst for a few moments, then reluctantly followed her.

+

"There's Jack! We can ask him!"

"Are you crazy? Break ends in less than two minutes! We can't-"

"Oh, stop being such a… a…" Misprint wrinkled her nose, trying to find a word. "Just stop! Come on, I know you're curious too."

Mondie shook her head stubbornly, braids flying. One smacked Misprint in the cheek. She glared up at her friend, rubbing a hand to the spot.

"How do we know that Jack will know anyway? Maybe they just forgot!"

Misprint rolled her eyes.

"We both know that neither Race or Mush have ever forgotten a date. And anyway, Jack knows everything. So come on! No one will even notice."

Mondie sighed, but followed her friend anyway. She always got roped into doing things like this. Both girls slowed, however, as Misprint called out Jack's name and he turned to face them. Mondie gasped softly. His hair was a matted mess, and his normally boyish face was coated in dirt and littered with cuts and dark bruise marks. Misprint cackled.

"Took for a little soakin,' Jacky-boy?" she asked mockingly. But Mondie knew different - she saw the wariness in his eyes.

"Mis…" she warned quietly.

Jack just stared at the two in disbelief, as if not really seeing them. Then he turned and continued to walk away. Misprint and Mondie exchanged glances.

"Hey! Jack, I was just kidding," Misprint said, catching up to him and pulling on his arm. "We just wanna know where Race and Mush are," she added. Jack still stood silent, but his eyes turned upwards in thought.

"Dunno," he said, went to leave, then turned back again. "Do you girls know what happened last night?" Again the two friends looked at each other.

"Erm… no," Mondie admitted, now worried. "What happened?"

"There was a fight in Brooklyn. A big one - we had to go help them."

Misprint's face turned a shade paler. Mondie cleared her throat weakly.

"Yeah? So you won, right? Where is everyone?"

Jack looked down, scuffing his toe in the dirt.

"Did we win? …I dunno. I don't know," he sighed. "The others stayed in Brooklyn last night, they'll be back soon," he said. Mondie nodded, finally allowing Jack to continue on his way.

"Mondie," he said before leaving, true concern softening his eyes. "Not everyone came back."

Mondie watched him go wordlessly, then turned to Misprint. Her eyes were shut tightly.

"I told him not to go," she was whispering, the words barely discernible. "I told him not to go."

+

It wasn't until Mouse was deep into Harlem that he got his breathing under control. His hands had stopped shaking, and he could finally think straight. A smirk rose to his face as he recalled the events of the earlier morning. He was very pleased with himself - he knew Spot didn't suspect him at all, he had known him for too long. And now he had even sent him to Harlem, the last place he'd want any of his little minions if he knew…

Mouse shook his bangs out of his eyes and continued to trudge along the streets, wondering what he should do next. Like Spot had asked, he had quickly left for Harlem, eager to escape the suspicious glances of the other newsies. But now that he had arrived, he wasn't sure what to do. Normally he was head right to see Silent, but with the events of the last night, that might not be the smartest thing to do. Silent had been sure he would gain complete victory, and Mouse had confirmed that. It hadn't happened, and so Silent probably wouldn't be in the best of moods.

He stopped at the corner of a main street, hesitating. This was the street that led to the abandoned warehouse that Silent lived in. He realized that he was afraid to face Harlem's leader - very afraid. Before, Silent had treated him like an equal… but Mouse knew that that was all just an act. Ignoring the fact that he was just a normal, homeless, street rat like everyone else, Silent liked to use the little power he had to act like he was king of the city. He wouldn't be too happy with Mouse.

Mouse shuddered suddenly and turned, walking back the way he had come. He would have to make up something to tell Spot when he got back. He'd done it before, it wasn't too difficult. Spot was so confident that Harlem would still back them that he never asked too many questions.

Mouse jammed his hands deep into his pant pockets and bowed his head, pretending to be invisible. But he didn't try hard enough, and after only a few steps found himself on the ground. He had just run smack into someone, and had bounced back to the stones. The other, a burly, thug like teen, stared down at him, making no move to help the smaller boy up. Mouse scrambled hastily to his feet and tried to walk around the boy, but was stopped again.

"You're Mouse," the boy stated in a growling voice. Mouse's breath quickened, but he said nothing. The boy's hand shot out to grip Mouse's arm tightly. He leaned down, "Silent wants to see you," he told Mouse's ear. Mouse whimpered as he was dragged towards the last place he'd want to be.

"Wait here," the boy said gruffly, shoving him into a dark closet-like room in the warehouse. "I'll get you when Silent is ready."

Mouse couldn't help but roll his eyes once the door shut, it was very likely that Silent was very ready indeed, but wanted to show Mouse that he was in no hurry. Mouse started at a small coughing noise, surprised that someone else was residing in the closet. The other inhabitant didn't say anything, and Mouse wasn't about to make the first move, so he just stood silently near the door.

After five or ten minutes, the other boy returned and hauled him out into the main room. With the light from outside illuminating his former prison, Mouse was able to catch a quick glance of the other boy, who was curled up in a far corner. Mouse tried to put a name to the face as he walked to talk to Silent. He was frustrated that he couldn't remember.

Not many boys he knew wore eye patches.

+

Parker gave the tawny skinned boy a last shot in the stomach, then walked off with his two peers, all three ignoring the boy's groans of pain.

Taffy rolled over, coughing blood and mucus onto his shirt. Tears streamed from his tightly scrunched up eyes, and he tried to sit up. Sharp pains in his ribs and stomach screamed at him, forcing him to fall back onto his elbows. He struggled to draw a deep breath and failed, coughing up more blood. Panic arose in his mind as he fought to breathe, but he couldn't, just kept coughing…

Finally he dropped to his back and half rolled, emptying whatever his stomach had left in it. With another groan he rolled away, head pounding. Saying that Spot's minions had done a number on him would be an understatement.

This time he didn't even try to rise, just lay on the ground, deep in an alley, unable to move a step farther. Before slipping into the forgiving blackness, one terrifying thought entered his mind.

He was still in Brooklyn.

+

Mondie, Misprint, own themselves. Shortie and Falco ("Sky") also own themselves, they'll be appearing later.