DISCLAIMER: The characters not found in the movie Newsies belong to me and those that are belong to Disney. Simple as that. Have a nice day. OoOgles, and 'The Line' is an idea created by the lovely and talented Meow. ^_^



*SHOUT-OUTS*

~Lanen: Don't worry. Mallory will always be Runner's girl no matter what happens; even if they're not even together. ^_^ And yea, Becca's story is coming up soon. Hope ya like this chapter!

~Tiger: Glad you're liking the twists! w00t w00t! Thanks for the review!

~racesgurl52787: Didn't expect Mallory to fall for Spot, eh? Heehee. Don't ya just love those classic twists? ^_^ Enjoy this chapter!

~StupidChocolateGurl: Ah, glad you've liked this story so far! So how's your sister doing? Send her my best wishes! Thanks for reviewing!

~Chewy: I've written more! Muahaha! Here's another chapter coming at ya! Hope ya like it!

~Dimples: YaaaY! I've finally updated! LoL, I was in a mood to write more of JALB after posting CH. 8 of "Confessions". Woooohooo! I'm free from the bondages of school so now I can update more often! Wheee...Okay, so anywayz, here's more!

~kellyanne: w00t w00t! Thanks for the review! I'm glad you're loving this story and I'm touched you think I'm a great author...*tear* ^_^ Sorry to keep ya waiting for so long for and update. Here it is!

~snipah higgins: Only reading the Race/Becca parts, eh? *whispers* I've been guilty of that too before. Heehee. Just to save ya the trouble, they aren't featured in this chapter, but check back next time! Thanks for the review!

~Meredith: Here's another chapter for youse, darlin'! Hope ya like it!

~kessystar: Sorry to leave ya at a cliffhanger last time. ^_^ Yaaay, another Runner fan! I love him so much, lol! He rocks my socks! So here's more of our boy; enjoy!

~asp: WoW, it took me a long time to update, eh? I hope you weren't dying over there in waiting. : ) Here's your update! Hope ya like it!

~Jaede Lorielle Conlon: I like your name, if I haven't said so before, lol. It's majorly kewl. Anywho, I think you scared Spot with that whole 'cutting off his manhood' ordeal. Although, I must say, he certainly does deserve it. ^_^ Rock on!

~Deanie: Spot's a slimeball? LoL! I love that. Seriously, I do. I may have to use it sometime...hmm. Ah well, anywho, here's another chapter for ya!

~CiCi: Will Spot win the bet? Will Spot win the bet? Hmm, should I tell her, guys? *Newsies shake their heads* Awww, sorry, I can't say. ^_^ But read on and we shall see. Thanks for the reviews, doll! Hope ya like this next chapter!

~Rhapsody: Heya goil, why don't you jump into Queens and go save the love of your life from getting soaked to death? : ) Yea, Spot's a slimeball. *sigh* We're going to have to teach him a lesson, eh? We might even have to use Runner. Welp, this chapter features your sweetheart, so I know you'll like it much. Thanks for your faithful reviews!

~Isabelle Gibson: Wow, I just finished a chapter from "Confessions" and realized how the Spot in that story is the complete opposite of the Spot in this one. LoL. Don't worry, our little Brooklyn leader will shape up soon enough. Heehee.

~Apollonia: Finally coming to the last person on my shout-out list...*collapses in exhaustion* ^_^ This story's quite long. I should end it soon so I can start on "The River" (as I so fondly abbreviate it). Well thanks for being one of my faithful reviewers! w00t w00t! Here's an action- packed chapter yet again!

~Lanen: I'm still looking for time to read that story of yours. ^_^ Don't worry; I haven't forgotten. But now that I'm off from school, I'll have the next two months. Time is on my hands! *Dances around in praise* Anywho, thanks so much for reviewing! Hope ya like this chapter!

~AND FINALLY GETTING TO THE STORY~

BrieF ReCaP: After a fun-filled night at a Valentine's Dance in Queens, Runner and Mallory share a last dance in the rain and are about to also share their first kiss when two Brooklyn enemies interrupt the couple and challenge the infamous Spot's younger cousin to a fight. Runner urges Mallory to run to Brooklyn for Spot's help, and she does. However, when she finally arrives at the lodging house, panting and screaming about what happened, instead of seeing about the matter himself, Spot sends six of his newsies in his place and convinces Mallory to stay with him before she catches a cold in the rain. The two get to talking, and when Mallory reveals her feelings for Runner, Spot instantly creates a lie about the boy, claiming that Runner had cheated on Mallory behind her back. Mallory is instantly heart-broken, thus giving Spot the perfect chance to take advantage of her vulnerability and finally win the bet.

*Just A Little Bet*

~*~*~*~*~When Spot awoke the next morning, the sun was already shining fiercely, casting its brilliant rays into the leader's room and momentarily blinding him. "Shit," he cursed in a hiss. This was the third time this week he had slept in! He sat up on his elbows and let his eyes adjust to the brightness of the room, only then noticing the girl who slept at his side peacefully. Mallory? Then the memories from last night filled his mind. How the girl had dashed into the lodging house soaking wet, how she had demanded she join the Brooklynites in their search for Runner, how Spot had instead gotten her to take shelter in his room.

He smirked in remembrance of how easy it had been. One of the most gullible dolls he'd known. She was in love with Runner, yet believed the first lie about him Spot had dealt her. Obviously, she didn't trust the kid too much. Thinking it funny, he wondered how far he could extend this game. What else would Mallory believe?

She stirred in her sleep and came to wake at that moment, her brown curls a tangled mess but her beauty evident either way. She yawned and shifted under the blankets, mentally debating whether she wanted to get up or not.

"Mornin' dollface," Spot greeted her, lightly laughing when she started in surprise.

Mallory blushed as Spot turned on his side and grinned down at her. It bothered her more than anything else; he was acting as if he expected something from her. She was thus left clueless, until scenes from last night flashed in her mind. "Oh my god..." she whispered, half to herself, half in apology to Runner-wherever he was. She had let Spot kiss her and then...and then...She pulled the blankets up and covered her face in shame. 'No, no, no,' she said over and over again. 'It had to be a nightmare.'

"Aww, Mal, don't be shy!" Spot tugged on the blankets until they slowly revealed the girl's face. "I'se aint gonna bite ya, goil. Come out and play!" He leaned towards her and began nibbling at her neck, trying to extract a reaction from her. But Mallory was frozen in place, seemingly afraid of what might pass. Spot sighed. "What'sa mattah, goily?"

"Spot, I can't do this," she said softly. "I can't hurt Lucas again."

"After what he did tah youse?" He shook his head, unwilling to accept her refusal again. "Mal, I bet Runnah aint carin' whether youse hoit 'im er not. After all he did tah youse? He's probably gettin' ready tah break it off wid youse."

Her eyes were large and filled with pain. She didn't want to believe it, but what if it was true? What if Lucas had only been using her? She looked away from Spot and frowned. Would she ever find someone who loved her? Would she ever be truly happy?

"Why don't youse just forget about 'im, Mal, and look at what ya gots in front of youse?" He turned her face back to him and slowly kissed her, deepening the embrace as the seconds passed. But just as he was about to go another step further, Mallory pulled away from him with tears in her eyes.

"I can't do it, Spot. I'm sorry."

He would've argued more with her, but a knock upon his door interrupted the moment. "Suit yaself," he said to her, as he rose from the bed and went to answer it.

In the hallway stood the six newsies he had sent the night before to Queens, five of which were looking anywhere but into the Brooklyn leader's eyes. Scapegoat stood at the front of the assembly and regarded Spot hesitantly; he had obviously been voted the spokesman of the group for being the elder, but more so for his good connections with Spot.

"Hiya Spotty," he grinned nervously. "Uh...we'se kinda gots a problem."

Spot stepped into the hallway with them and closed the door behind him. Then he leaned upon the wooden structure and crossed his arms. An eternity seemed to pass. "Well?"

"Oh, oh...uhm, heh, it's about Runnah." Scapegoat shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying to keep a stable stance should the leader lash out at him once the message had been delivered. "Well, ya see, we went tah Queens like ya told us but the thing is..."

"He wasn't there," piped in a boy named Julian. Scapegoat glared at him and he cowered back in fear.

Spot's eyes remained cool, but the others knew the calmness was only a shroud to cover his growing temper. "Well, if he wasn't there, where was he?"

Scapegoat took up the explanation once more. "That's a good question. Uhm...we actually ran into a few Queen scabs and basically, they told us Runnah was being kept at the lodgin' house and that if youse wanted tah see 'im alive again, you'd have tah get 'im fer yaself. They said you'd have 'til noon tah get 'im, and if ya turned out tah be a no-show, they'd kill the kid fer crossin' the bordahs."

"Oh really?"

"Yea, we, uh, knows we'se weren't s'pose tah come back unless we had the kid, but the six of us aint no match for all of Queens, and 'sides, I think their leadah wants tah speak wid youse specifically."

However, Spot wasn't paying any heed to what Scapegoat was rambling on about. His thoughts were on Runner. If something were to happen to him, the only family he'd ever known would surely disown him for the rest of his life. On top of that, Spot would never be able to forgive himself. Though spirited and always acting with a mind of his own, Runner was still a Brooklyn newsie, and as such he was entrusted to Spot's care. More importantly, he was Spot's cousin, and it was the elder youth's responsibility to look after him.

"Spot? Youse, uh, youse gunna go ovah there or...?"

"Of coise I'se goin!" Spot nearly yelled. "This is Runnah we'se talkin' about. Ya think I'se just gunna let those bastards do what they want tah me cousin?!" He controlled his anger, remembering Mallory was just inside his room. "Gimme a minute tah get ready, alright? Then we'se gunna take a lil' detour tah Manhattan for some help, and afterwards we'll get the kid."

Julian looked baffled. "Manhattan? But aint they our enemies now? I thought youse and Jack weren't friends no more?"

Spot shrugged. "Yea, but we'se gunna need all the help we'se can get, so we're gunna have tah forget about the past fer now." He gave them orders to rally up the older Brooklyn newsies and then disappeared into his room.

~*~*~*~*~

Runner sighed and looked down at himself, his clothes red with the blood that dampened his prisoner costume in selected areas, his chest heaving with great pain, and his back sore from having to sleep the night in a sitting position. Upon arriving to the Queens lodging house, after a few more good soakings, Flame had had the boy pressed against a tall wooden pole so that his arms might be tied around the structure.

It wasn't a happy time. They had left him outside in the bitter rain as if he were a dog punished for some wrongdoing and now, even under the brilliancy of the majestic sun, he shivered uncontrollably from his inner chills as his body tried to adjust to the warmer climate. Another thing, he was incredibly hungry. Now thinking upon it, he realized he hadn't eaten at all last night; he had been too busy staring at Mallory across the table.

"Mallory..." he whispered, his voice cracking as it passed through his aching throat. The though of the girl was enough to revive hope in him. He had thought about her all night. Was she alright? Had she made it safely to Brooklyn? Had she related the message to Spot? And if so, where was the Brooklyn leader?

"Nice tah see youse is up already. It saves the hassle of havin' tah wake ya. Though I would've just smashed a bat into ya skull tah do that." Runner looked up to see Flame and a few of his boys standing before him, seemingly thrilled that they had a captive to torture. "By the way, Runnah, that lil' ditsy goil of yours, mmm. Ya really know how tah reel 'em in, eh? That goil had me goin' all night long."

Runner glared at the blatant lie while the others laughed idiotically. "Except there's one problem, reject," he dared say. "Mallory wouldn't even consider sleepin' wid a son of a bitch like youse!"

The boys quieted down, astonished by the remark, but Flame only grinned. "Ya shouldn't be sayin' shit like that when we'se gots the upper hand in a situation, cause ya just might piss one of us off, and we'd have tah, Oh I dunno, do somethin' like this!" With one swift kick, he slammed his booted foot into Runner's face.

The young Conlon was taken by surprise. His brain rattled from the blow, his neck nearly snapping from such a strong impact. Blood now streaming from his mouth, the pain that surged through his face was overwhelming.

"I bet ya aint got no smart ass comments now, do ya?" Flame crossed his arms and laughed at the pathetic sight at his feet.

"Flame, maybe youse should pick a fight wid someone who aint tied tah a pole, unless youse is too scared tah face a Conlon like that. I mean, who knows. Maybe the kid would actually beat the shit outta ya, right?"

The Queens leader and his brood turned at the all too familiar voice to see Spot Conlon making his way towards them, Jack Kelly at his side and about forty newsies behind. Flame kept on an undaunted façade. "Well, well. Brooklyn and the Cowboy. Nice of you two tah stop by. Is there somethin' we'se can do fer youse?"

"I would ask ya tah drop dead," Spot replied, drawing his cane from the belt loop where it hung, "but that would just take out the pleasure of stranglin' youse wid me own hands."

Jack stepped forward, his tall figure towering over that of Flame's. He thought it ironic how he and Spot had just weeks ago been fighting to the death for some girl, and now were standing side by side for a close friend. Runner being held hostage were the last words Jack had expected to hear from Spot when he had welcomed the Brooklyn newsies into the Manhattan lodging house that morning. But when Spot asked him for his assistance in putting Queens in its place, he didn't even have to hesitate for an answer. Of course Manhattan would help.

"Let the kid go, Flame, before I'se make ya wish youse were never born."

"Ya see, there's a bit of a problem, though," the other leader replied. "He crossed the bordahs and now he's gotta pay."

"He aint a Brooklyn newsie no more and ya know that!" A storm was building in Spot's eyes as they took on a grayish shade.

"Once a Brooky, always a Brooky." Flame motioned behind him to where Runner was with a malicious grin. "I'd been thinkin' all night, what would be the best way tah punish a Conlon? Alotta thoughts came tah me, but none were woithy enough fer such a name. Then it hit me like that." He snapped his fingers to show the quickness of his thought process and then continued. "I'll have him walk the Line!"

His boys erupted into cheers at the announcement of the sentence each of them would have an opportunity to participate in. It was a callous noise that rose into the air and proclaimed the brutality man was capable of possessing.

Those from Manhattan and Brooklyn either gasped at the words, shared hushed whispers with those beside them, protested against the unjust reprimand, or kept eyes focused on the two leaders before them. All, though none would immediately admit it, were terror-stricken. The Line was an inhuman beating, a barbaric ritual that could end in death, and almost always did.

And for once in his life, Spot Conlon didn't know what to do. His eyes fell upon Runner and he instantly felt torn in two ways. He could let the boy accept the challenge like a man, but then would be subjected to seeing his cousin beaten to death. And then what? Face his uncle and aunt with news that he had practically killed their son, for wasn't that what he was doing by not defending him? Then there was his second choice. As the leader of the one charged with trespassing, he had the power to stand in for Runner, to accept the punishment as his own. His cousin would be free to go home, but Spot would be turned to the hands of his enemies, and at last Brooklyn would fall.

Flame noticed the Brooklyn leader in deep contemplation and silenced his boys with a simple gesture. "So what's it gonna be, Spotty? Ya think youse can soak ya way outta this one, or are ya gonna deal?"

"Actually," came the blonde's smooth reply, "we'se gunna do a switch- around."

"Oh?"

Spot closed the distance between him and Runner in a few strides and nodded towards his cousin. "Let the kid go, and take me in his place."

"No!" Strangely enough, the decline came from Runner himself, who refused to be showed up as if he were incapable of handling the consequences of his decisions. He was tired of standing in Spot's shadows all the time; he could stand up for himself! Okay, maybe he'd often run to Spot for help, but he was ready to shine on his own for once. "Youse aint gotta take me place; I'se can take it."

The elder only looked at him before regarding Flame. "Untie 'im and lemme have a woid wid the kid in private." One of the Queens newsies did as instructed and once Runner's hands were free, Spot grabbed the front of his shirt, yanked him to his feet, and shoved him a few yards away where no one could hear their conversation.

"Where d'ya get off thinkin' youse can go against what I say?"

Runner narrowed his eyes at him in indignation. "I don't need ya help! What is youse afraid of, seein' me dead? Isn't that what youse wanted fer a while now? Me tah be dead?"

Spot gave him an incredulous look. "What the hell are ya talkin' about? How many times did they hit ya head last night?" Runner rolled his eyes and started to walk back to Flame with intentions to tell him he'd walk the Line himself, but Spot pushed him back again. "Listen, I'se don't care what ya think, I got the final say anyways. Youse should be glad I care enough tah save ya sorry behind."

"If ya cared so much, youse would've been heah last night when I'se really needed youse. Then none of this would've even happened!"

The sweltering heat's oppression was nothing compared to the loathing they conveyed to one another as they met each other's hard glare.

~*~*~*~*~

The Queens newsies were enthralled by what was to happen within the coming hour. Brandishing weapons of all sorts-knives, bats, slabs of wood, and the like-they followed their leader out the lodging house and onto the abandoned street they claimed as their own. Like soldiers in a garrison forming companies, the boys, all of which were fourteen to nineteen years of age and born of a fierceness only the lower classes knew, formed two lines, each fifteen youth long. The lines stood less than five feet apart with the boys from each side facing each other, as if it were a line-up for some classic ballroom dance. But such debonair mannerisms were cast aside when Flame traversed the formed path to its end, where he turned in place and stood.

The Manhattan and Brooklyn boys gathered about opposite Flame, waiting in an anxious bunch as Spot Conlon did away with his shirt and stood before the beginnings of the Line, his figure glistening in the sun and his demeanor so passive they wondered if he knew with what he was getting himself involved.

But of course Spot Conlon knew. He had seen two of his own boys lose their lives to the ruthless sentence, had seen hell unleashed those days. And now it was time for him to show that it could be conquered. His eyes shone with a grey glint, his face taut as he measured the enemies he would soon be vulnerable to. Most of the Queens newsies were either his size or larger, and all knew how to properly wield the weapon given them. Having his hands tied behind his back then, he knew it would not be his main disadvantage.

He knew what gave the brutes their undying zeal. Just the very fact that this afternoon, each of them would be given the chance to take a strike at the infallible, legendary, fearless leader of the Brooklynites was enough to make them crave for blood like hungry wolves. Spot exhaled a deep breath of air and stepped forward when Flame, numerous yards away, motioned for him to do so. The following silence was a pressing one.

Runner stood at Jack's side and watched on with both jealousy and concern. Jealousy because once again Spot had proved more of a man than he, and concern because all in all, Spot was his family, his blood, and he cared for him deeply. Still, the rivalry between the cousins was overpowering. "I could've done it just as well," the boy whispered in a hiss.

Jack had heard him. "I highly doubt that, kid. Ya know how many bums have lost their lives walkin' this damn thing? Even Spot's gunna come out bruised and battered. That's even IF he comes out at all!"

Scapegoat shook his head. "Youse kiddin' me? Of coise Spot is gunna come outta this mess! For God's sake, he's gotta!"

"I'se aint so shoah," was all Jack said in reply.

Spot walked on, oblivious to the exchange of doubts and conviction between his companions. The first pair of boys that made up either side of the Line readied themselves as the Brooklyn leader came closer to passing them. For the briefest moment, they shared hesitant glances across the way. They were brothers; both only fourteen years of age. Could they really bring it upon themselves to scar the young man they had once admired while growing up in the streets of New York and hearing the tales of a fearless leader who could take on any foe?

Whether they could was out of the question, though. They would have to. Spot was between them now and after a brief deliberation, they raised their slabs of wood and smacked them across the young man's shoulders. Spot soaked up the pain and walked on. The callous jeers crescendoed into a deafening racket. Knives sliced into the leader's skin, drawing streams of blood that dripped from various wounds. Slingshots flung shooters at his face, stinging as they left bruises as his battle marks. Still, Spot proceeded to walk down the Line, holding the pain within him, not willing to let his pride go for one second.

Then came the bats. The first impact blew Spot's mind away. Some scab who obviously despised the leader grabbed a good hold of a metal shaft and swung the weapon at the back of Spot's knees. He fell face first to the ground onto a puddle of his own blood; the Queens newsies roared in laughter.

"Get up, ya highness!" they shouted. "What'sa mattah? Brooklyn aint so tough now?"

Runner lunged forward with a desire to rip out the eyes of those responsible for the assault; it took Jack, Scapegoat, and Blink to restrain him.

Spot stood kneeling on the streets for what seemed an eternity. The pain coursing through his body was unbearable! He felt as if a locomotive had just crushed onto his body, leaving only a heap of flesh and bones. He was exhausted by the blows, didn't think he could go on. But steadying his heart rate, he rose to his feet and staggered onwards.

He was almost to the Line's end, but that gave him no hope, for he would only have to endure his final beating. A one on one match with Flame, one of the better kick-boxers in central New York. He tried to cover himself with a mental barrier that might fend off the strikes he received, but it was not working. The aches seemed to throb all the more. The knives slashed his flesh deeper, the shooters embedded their forms harder, the splinters on the pieces of wood used against him stung like needles, and the bats felt as if they were shattering his bones. He withstood it all nevertheless.

Finally he had neared Flame. The leader of Queens grinned devilishly at seeing his foe nearing death and looking like some cadaverous drunkard. He kicked Spot's midsection hard on and laughed with delight when the Brooklynite stumbled over. "Ah, this is hardly fair I suppose," he said, still laughing. "I'se don't need Spot tah have his hands tied behind his back. I'se can kick his ass in a fair fight any day!"

"Especially when half ya boys has already done it for youse," Runner commented bitterly from where he stood in a barely audible voice. The three who had held him back earlier from defending Spot still kept their grips on him and so he was left with nothing more than verbal attack.

Flame motioned to one of his boys to do away with Spot's hand bindings. It was done in a matter of seconds and soon the Brooklyn leader was hoisted to his feet. Flame stepped closer to him, reveling in his present power. "Ya know, Spotty. I'se admire ya strength. Alotta guys would've died from the Line, but youse stayed the course. Ya took it like a man. Tell me, though. Can ya take this?" He brought his clenched fist back and delivered a sharp right hook that connected with Spot's cheekbone. The Brooklyn leader fell back, more from the surprise of the attack than anything else, and remained on the ground with his back turned to Flame.

The Queens newsies began taunting him, but Flame bid them to be silent. "Ah, c'mon Spotty. Don't give in tah me now. I'se was just about tah show me boys who the real leadah of Brooklyn shoulda been."

On all fours, Spot wiped his bleeding mouth with the back of a hand and exhaled a large breath of air. He had had enough. Suddenly, he jumped to his feet, turned around in one quick whirl, and charged after Flame in a yelling rage. He tackled the boy down and the two leaders flew down the streets in a tangled bundle. Spot rolled out on top and began socking Flame in the face over and over again, never stopping once.

Flame's newsies instantly sprang into action, running towards their leader and Spot to end this battle once and for all. Manhattan and Brooklyn were closely behind them, not about to let Spot meet an unfair fight. Complete pandemonium broke out.

Runner was the rowdiest of the bunch, a patriotic soul on a vendetta. He never was too skilled a fighter, and that perhaps was his one major flaw during his time as a Brooklyn newsie, but he had the spirit, and at a time like this, that was all that mattered. He dashed into the masses, shoving, punching, and kicking his way through, dodging any who tried to use a weapon against him, and making sure there was always a Brooklyn fighter nearby to run to for help.

Minutes paraded on by until a quarter of an hour had passed. The Queens newsies were slowly submitting to their greater enemies, who proved more fearsome today than they were prepared to admit to. Only few remained who still held up a fight, and they were currently being dealt with. The rest were tending to wounds, bandaging bruises with torn sleeves and admiring cuts that would heal into scars.

Runner limped his way towards Spot with much discomfort. During the fight's outbreak, Jack had sent a boy wheeling off, and Runner had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. The Queens boy consequently slammed into him, the young Conlon's ankle twisting under the weight. Considering he could've left the battle with greater hurts than that, however, he was grateful no other harms had been done.

Spot glared at Flame's unconscious body lying sprawled out at his feet and spat on the leader, cursing the scab to misfortunes for the rest of his life. When he heard his name called, he turned to see Runner coming his way. With a grin, he waved the boy over. It looked as if they had both just barely survived another adventure they would only be laughing over weeks from now.

"Runnah, ya look like shit!"

"Yea, yea," Runner yelled back at him from his current location, smirking all the while. "Youse is lookin' pretty crappy yaself."

Spot nodded and his grin spread, but the smile soon dropped when he suddenly noticed one from Queens' brood darting across the throngs of newsies with a bedpost in hand. The Brooklyn leader's eyes widened in alarm. "Runnah, watch out!" He started for his cousin, who was still a reasonable number of yards away.

Runner froze in his tracks, wondering what the hell Spot was doing. Never had it occurred to him that someone was coming from behind. Never did he think that it was a warning of something fastly approaching. He watched Spot race towards him in confusion and stepped back worriedly. What was.?

He hadn't even a chance to finish the thought. An impact from behind clouted his skull and then all he saw was black.

Spot cried out at the sight. He had arrived just in time to catch Runner's lifeless body in his arms.

~*~*~*~*~

ReViEw! Please? ^_^ Love ya all!