Alrighty then.
Ershey: WAH. I love your reviews. :) You're so great... now if you would just put out MORE fic MORE often! Lol. Thanks for reviewing!
Keza: Thank you bunches for that review, again!
Lanen: Haha, Callie is one of my favorite names too, though not my own. I'm glad you like it so far! :)
And the fic:
-----
Callie trod over the path of alleyways that she had made her way through thousands of times. She walked in silence; the only noises were the sounds of the other people on the streets she happened to pass. She was on her way over to Manhattan to talk to Racetrack. Race might be able to tell her Spot's weaknesses, where she should hit him first. She never rushed into a fight without at least thinking it over a bit. If at all possible, Callie would call rumbles for evenings, giving herself time to plan. Never had she completely lost. She wasn't going to make it the first time.
Callie felt very out of place as she strode into Tibby's. She looked around at the newsies. A few had noticed her entrance. Some knew who she was, but mainly they knew her tough reputation. "Has anyone seen Race lately?" Blank faces stared back at her. Of course, she thought. They won't tell me where he is. He's their brother; they won't rat him out. Callie's thoughts made preparation bleak. She sat down opposite a newsie whose name she remembered. "Dutchy?" she queried. "Would you tell me where Race is? I need to talk to him. It's important." Dutchy searched her green eyes for a minute before answering.
"Last I knew, he was down at the track with you."
Callie gave him a brief smile. "Thanks, Dutch." Callie got up and left without further words.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
A while later, around dinnertime, Callie woke up in her room in the warehouse. Quickly she ran out to observe the sun. It was still hanging in the sky, but it was slightly lower than she had hoped. There was just enough time to make it to Brooklyn, if she ran. Callie cursed herself silently. If she ran to Brooklyn, she'd be too tired to put up a good fight. Her eyes lit upon something that seemed an answer to her prayers. A trolley car was ambling down the road. Without a second thought, she grabbed the edge and hopped on for a free ride.
Minutes later she arrived much closer to Brooklyn. Callie breathed a sigh of relief as she noted the sun's position. At a leisurely pace, she walked towards the Brooklyn docks. When the sun was just dipping below the hazy horizon, Callie was casually leaning against one of the railings along the pier.
"Well, ya showed up!" Spot's voice interrupted the peaceful atmosphere. "I dunno if that was a very smart move," he warned her.
"You sound surprised. Everyone knows it ain't kind to turn down an invitation. Especially one when it's not wise to not come. Besides, I'm gonna enjoy kickin' your ass." Callie grinned. Her knuckles ached, yearning to punch him. Every bone in her body waited impatiently for the fight to start. Even so, Callie's brain remained intact. She realized that this fight could be a long and difficult one. "Just a precaution, though. You keep your boys outta this, I keep mine from rearranging their faces. Got it?"
"Yeah, I got it," Spot sneered at her. "No scratching or hair pulling either. I don't want none of that girly fighting. And one more thing: I nevah hit girls unless they hit me first, so give it your best shot, girl."
"My name's Callie."
The two raised their fists and circled each other. Tense determination played over Spot's face while Callie kept her emotions in check so that they wouldn't give anything away. A memory flickered in the back of her mind. She could hear her father advise her brother on fighting technique. Fight low with your eyes open and toward the play. Be on your toes every minute if you expect to make it good. She shook herself back to the present. This was her fight, not theirs. The intensity in the darkened air was thick. The closer they circled the more heated their anger became.
Suddenly, Callie faked a jab at Spot's jaw causing him to strike out at her, but she easily blocked it and jammed a fist into his gut. She backed off for a minute watching Spot get up from being doubled-over.
"So I thought I got ta throw the first punch, Spot. What happened there?" she asked, trying to get a rise out of him. It worked. Spot threw a punch that landed hard on Callie's cheekbone. From then on, it was an all-out brawl. For each punch Callie would throw at him, Spot retaliated. It was a very evenly matched battle.
Callie used several different kicks that easily found their target until Spot became the wiser and learned how to block them and attack at the same time. Callie punched Spot's face and kicked his legs out from underneath him, but Spot would grab her leg as he fell and twist, disabling another quick attack from above.
Both were bloody and bruised when the Manhattan boys showed up. Racetrack, knowing the fight would still be going, had told some of the other newsies and brought them down to break it up if at all possible.
Upon seeing that the two now had an audience coming, other than their own newsies, Callie made a lightning decision. She let Spot hit her face again; gritting her teeth to stop the pain, she swiftly spun around catching his cheek with her elbow. Spot fell to the ground. Jack started walking over to the fighters without his other newsies. He was looking to break up the struggle, when Callie bent over and offered Spot her hand. She looked straight in his eyes, and Spot, being the respectable leader he was, searched them, looking for any ounce of hostility or menace before accepting the hand she gave him. When she had pulled him up, Jack stood stunned a few feet away from them.
A wave of respect and understanding washed over Callie. They regarded each other carefully, and maintained a firm grip on the others hand, daring the other to let go first. It's all about the power, Callie thought. Then, giving in to fatigue, she dropped Spot's hand, at the same time he dropped hers. Both looked, in shock, at where their hands had been. Jack was still standing near them, speechless.
Callie was the first to find herself. In a hushed voice that seemed appropriate for the setting, she spoke to Spot. "I'm willing to let your boys back into my territory if you give us free passage through Brooklyn. That means no trouble."
The two leaders stared straight into the others eyes before either made a move, and when that happened, Spot was the first. He slowly reached his right hand up to his bruised face and spit in it. He then stuck it out towards Callie who was doing the same. She showed a battered smile. They shook.
When the deal was done, Callie turned her back to Spot and the others, a careful understanding between them all. She whistled loud and sharp. Her boys, what small number there were, came out from where they had been. From Crash to Cricket, the largest to the smallest, they had all followed their leader faithfully. She whistled again, a signal for them to go home, but she beckoned for one of them to wait. Jimmy, understanding, waited loyally for his leader, in the case she needed help getting home.
Callie turned back to Spot who was taking his boys back and called out to him. "It's all about power, Spot, all about the power."
Spot nodded, a new admiration for the fearless Five Points leader forming. They understood each other and what the other would do for his or her boys. Spot left with one final statement. He uttered but a single word. "Callie."
Ershey: WAH. I love your reviews. :) You're so great... now if you would just put out MORE fic MORE often! Lol. Thanks for reviewing!
Keza: Thank you bunches for that review, again!
Lanen: Haha, Callie is one of my favorite names too, though not my own. I'm glad you like it so far! :)
And the fic:
-----
Callie trod over the path of alleyways that she had made her way through thousands of times. She walked in silence; the only noises were the sounds of the other people on the streets she happened to pass. She was on her way over to Manhattan to talk to Racetrack. Race might be able to tell her Spot's weaknesses, where she should hit him first. She never rushed into a fight without at least thinking it over a bit. If at all possible, Callie would call rumbles for evenings, giving herself time to plan. Never had she completely lost. She wasn't going to make it the first time.
Callie felt very out of place as she strode into Tibby's. She looked around at the newsies. A few had noticed her entrance. Some knew who she was, but mainly they knew her tough reputation. "Has anyone seen Race lately?" Blank faces stared back at her. Of course, she thought. They won't tell me where he is. He's their brother; they won't rat him out. Callie's thoughts made preparation bleak. She sat down opposite a newsie whose name she remembered. "Dutchy?" she queried. "Would you tell me where Race is? I need to talk to him. It's important." Dutchy searched her green eyes for a minute before answering.
"Last I knew, he was down at the track with you."
Callie gave him a brief smile. "Thanks, Dutch." Callie got up and left without further words.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
A while later, around dinnertime, Callie woke up in her room in the warehouse. Quickly she ran out to observe the sun. It was still hanging in the sky, but it was slightly lower than she had hoped. There was just enough time to make it to Brooklyn, if she ran. Callie cursed herself silently. If she ran to Brooklyn, she'd be too tired to put up a good fight. Her eyes lit upon something that seemed an answer to her prayers. A trolley car was ambling down the road. Without a second thought, she grabbed the edge and hopped on for a free ride.
Minutes later she arrived much closer to Brooklyn. Callie breathed a sigh of relief as she noted the sun's position. At a leisurely pace, she walked towards the Brooklyn docks. When the sun was just dipping below the hazy horizon, Callie was casually leaning against one of the railings along the pier.
"Well, ya showed up!" Spot's voice interrupted the peaceful atmosphere. "I dunno if that was a very smart move," he warned her.
"You sound surprised. Everyone knows it ain't kind to turn down an invitation. Especially one when it's not wise to not come. Besides, I'm gonna enjoy kickin' your ass." Callie grinned. Her knuckles ached, yearning to punch him. Every bone in her body waited impatiently for the fight to start. Even so, Callie's brain remained intact. She realized that this fight could be a long and difficult one. "Just a precaution, though. You keep your boys outta this, I keep mine from rearranging their faces. Got it?"
"Yeah, I got it," Spot sneered at her. "No scratching or hair pulling either. I don't want none of that girly fighting. And one more thing: I nevah hit girls unless they hit me first, so give it your best shot, girl."
"My name's Callie."
The two raised their fists and circled each other. Tense determination played over Spot's face while Callie kept her emotions in check so that they wouldn't give anything away. A memory flickered in the back of her mind. She could hear her father advise her brother on fighting technique. Fight low with your eyes open and toward the play. Be on your toes every minute if you expect to make it good. She shook herself back to the present. This was her fight, not theirs. The intensity in the darkened air was thick. The closer they circled the more heated their anger became.
Suddenly, Callie faked a jab at Spot's jaw causing him to strike out at her, but she easily blocked it and jammed a fist into his gut. She backed off for a minute watching Spot get up from being doubled-over.
"So I thought I got ta throw the first punch, Spot. What happened there?" she asked, trying to get a rise out of him. It worked. Spot threw a punch that landed hard on Callie's cheekbone. From then on, it was an all-out brawl. For each punch Callie would throw at him, Spot retaliated. It was a very evenly matched battle.
Callie used several different kicks that easily found their target until Spot became the wiser and learned how to block them and attack at the same time. Callie punched Spot's face and kicked his legs out from underneath him, but Spot would grab her leg as he fell and twist, disabling another quick attack from above.
Both were bloody and bruised when the Manhattan boys showed up. Racetrack, knowing the fight would still be going, had told some of the other newsies and brought them down to break it up if at all possible.
Upon seeing that the two now had an audience coming, other than their own newsies, Callie made a lightning decision. She let Spot hit her face again; gritting her teeth to stop the pain, she swiftly spun around catching his cheek with her elbow. Spot fell to the ground. Jack started walking over to the fighters without his other newsies. He was looking to break up the struggle, when Callie bent over and offered Spot her hand. She looked straight in his eyes, and Spot, being the respectable leader he was, searched them, looking for any ounce of hostility or menace before accepting the hand she gave him. When she had pulled him up, Jack stood stunned a few feet away from them.
A wave of respect and understanding washed over Callie. They regarded each other carefully, and maintained a firm grip on the others hand, daring the other to let go first. It's all about the power, Callie thought. Then, giving in to fatigue, she dropped Spot's hand, at the same time he dropped hers. Both looked, in shock, at where their hands had been. Jack was still standing near them, speechless.
Callie was the first to find herself. In a hushed voice that seemed appropriate for the setting, she spoke to Spot. "I'm willing to let your boys back into my territory if you give us free passage through Brooklyn. That means no trouble."
The two leaders stared straight into the others eyes before either made a move, and when that happened, Spot was the first. He slowly reached his right hand up to his bruised face and spit in it. He then stuck it out towards Callie who was doing the same. She showed a battered smile. They shook.
When the deal was done, Callie turned her back to Spot and the others, a careful understanding between them all. She whistled loud and sharp. Her boys, what small number there were, came out from where they had been. From Crash to Cricket, the largest to the smallest, they had all followed their leader faithfully. She whistled again, a signal for them to go home, but she beckoned for one of them to wait. Jimmy, understanding, waited loyally for his leader, in the case she needed help getting home.
Callie turned back to Spot who was taking his boys back and called out to him. "It's all about power, Spot, all about the power."
Spot nodded, a new admiration for the fearless Five Points leader forming. They understood each other and what the other would do for his or her boys. Spot left with one final statement. He uttered but a single word. "Callie."
