AN- I just realized I made a few White sox mistakes. I should have called
them the White Stockings. They were shortened to the White Sox in 1904.
Sorry I took so long to get this chapter up.
"All right, now that everything is in order, the last thing we need to discuss is Mush and Sam. Is everything going as planned with them?" Sport asked, leading a meeting of the newsies that were let in on all of the secrets. Sport, Jack, David, Ractrack, Boots, and Kid Blink were all having dinner in a corner a Tibby's. They had been very surprised when Jack first told them that Sport wasn't who they thought he was, especially Racetrack, but they had gotten used to the idea, and were now willing to take his advice. Actually, they were willing to take anyone's advice due to the current situation.
"Everything is going as ya planned it Sport. I watched Chase take Sam and Mush into the Bronx lodging house. It's up to them now." Kid Blink stated.
"Good. So now all that's left is to celebrate the White Stockings win against the Baltimore Orioles. We're going all the way this year." Sport leaned back in his chair and took a drink from his glass.
"Care to place a bet on that?" Racetrack asked leaning forward. Sport was about to respond when a younger boy ran in the door. The kid's shirt was torn, and he was crying and panting. His eye also seemed to be swelling a bit.
"Hey, Stumble, what happened to you?" Jack Kelly asked as he got up from his seat to check out the kids eye."
"Some kid asked me to bring him to you. I told him no, because I remembered you giving that order on how's we ain't gonna have no more new editions to the Manhattan newsies." Stumble took a breath, trying to get the story out without fainting. "He told me I betta tell him where you is, or he'd kill me. But I didn't, and he soaked me." Jack took all of this in, remaining calm. He was about to get more information on this guy when Sport interrupted his thoughts.
"Where did you see this guy?" He demanded his face beginning to turn a light shade of red.
"Down in the ally by Mcluskie's bar. Do you know where that is?" He did, he had slept in it on one of his first nights in Manhattan.
"Yeah." He said quietly as he ran full speed out the door and down to the ally before anyone could even think to follow him, though they did try once they realized what he was going to do.
Jack stopped them before they left. "Everyone sidown. You're just gonna make things worse for us. The guy that beat up Stumble probably isn't even there anymore. Everyone remain here, except for David and Boots. I need some brains and brawn in case I get attacked." The three took off at a slower pace, (Boots wasn't very fast due to his height) to make sure Sport didn't get into any trouble.
---------------------In the Ally-------------------------------
Sport wasn't alone. He could feel it. Someone was hiding near by. He could almost sense their breath on his neck, but when he turned around, no one was there. He attempted to slow his breathing down and make it quiet. His chest was still heaving from the long run to the ally. He kept his eyes keen and aware, hoping, wishing, and longing for a fight. His natural instincts had taken over, and he was no longer a man, but a lion, a bear, a bird of prey, stalking and waiting for the kill. His eyes searched like a hawk's, looking for a way to get an upper hand, since he knew he didn't have the element of surprise on his side.
He suddenly felt a sharp pain in the side of his head. He turned around to see a medium height; skinny boy had just punched him. Sport tried to punch the boy in the face, but he ducked and got hit in the stomach instead. Instead of howling in pain, Sport was able to fake a right, then hit him with a left upper hook. The boy stumbled back, and Sport took this opportunity to grab the knife he always kept safely stowed in his right sock. The boy tried to come at him again, but this time Sport was ready. He tried to shove the blade into the boy's stomach, but he saw it, and dodged but ended up loosing his balance and landing on the ground near his feet. Sport kicked the boy in the head, stunning him, and was about ready to shove the knife into his throat when he felt something hard slap the side of his leg. He fell the ground, still ready to plunge the knife into the boy. He suddenly heard someone call from behind him.
"No, Sport, don't kill him, he's already dead!" Sport blinked blood out of his eye, attempting to tame his animalistic instincts. He could tell the boy in front of him was living breathing flesh, definitely not dead.
"What are you talking about Jack?" He asked, his voice strangely low and calm. He refused to take his eyes off the victim for even a second.
"That's Spot Conlon. That's the leader of the Brooklyn newsies. The one who's supposed to be dead.
"All right, now that everything is in order, the last thing we need to discuss is Mush and Sam. Is everything going as planned with them?" Sport asked, leading a meeting of the newsies that were let in on all of the secrets. Sport, Jack, David, Ractrack, Boots, and Kid Blink were all having dinner in a corner a Tibby's. They had been very surprised when Jack first told them that Sport wasn't who they thought he was, especially Racetrack, but they had gotten used to the idea, and were now willing to take his advice. Actually, they were willing to take anyone's advice due to the current situation.
"Everything is going as ya planned it Sport. I watched Chase take Sam and Mush into the Bronx lodging house. It's up to them now." Kid Blink stated.
"Good. So now all that's left is to celebrate the White Stockings win against the Baltimore Orioles. We're going all the way this year." Sport leaned back in his chair and took a drink from his glass.
"Care to place a bet on that?" Racetrack asked leaning forward. Sport was about to respond when a younger boy ran in the door. The kid's shirt was torn, and he was crying and panting. His eye also seemed to be swelling a bit.
"Hey, Stumble, what happened to you?" Jack Kelly asked as he got up from his seat to check out the kids eye."
"Some kid asked me to bring him to you. I told him no, because I remembered you giving that order on how's we ain't gonna have no more new editions to the Manhattan newsies." Stumble took a breath, trying to get the story out without fainting. "He told me I betta tell him where you is, or he'd kill me. But I didn't, and he soaked me." Jack took all of this in, remaining calm. He was about to get more information on this guy when Sport interrupted his thoughts.
"Where did you see this guy?" He demanded his face beginning to turn a light shade of red.
"Down in the ally by Mcluskie's bar. Do you know where that is?" He did, he had slept in it on one of his first nights in Manhattan.
"Yeah." He said quietly as he ran full speed out the door and down to the ally before anyone could even think to follow him, though they did try once they realized what he was going to do.
Jack stopped them before they left. "Everyone sidown. You're just gonna make things worse for us. The guy that beat up Stumble probably isn't even there anymore. Everyone remain here, except for David and Boots. I need some brains and brawn in case I get attacked." The three took off at a slower pace, (Boots wasn't very fast due to his height) to make sure Sport didn't get into any trouble.
---------------------In the Ally-------------------------------
Sport wasn't alone. He could feel it. Someone was hiding near by. He could almost sense their breath on his neck, but when he turned around, no one was there. He attempted to slow his breathing down and make it quiet. His chest was still heaving from the long run to the ally. He kept his eyes keen and aware, hoping, wishing, and longing for a fight. His natural instincts had taken over, and he was no longer a man, but a lion, a bear, a bird of prey, stalking and waiting for the kill. His eyes searched like a hawk's, looking for a way to get an upper hand, since he knew he didn't have the element of surprise on his side.
He suddenly felt a sharp pain in the side of his head. He turned around to see a medium height; skinny boy had just punched him. Sport tried to punch the boy in the face, but he ducked and got hit in the stomach instead. Instead of howling in pain, Sport was able to fake a right, then hit him with a left upper hook. The boy stumbled back, and Sport took this opportunity to grab the knife he always kept safely stowed in his right sock. The boy tried to come at him again, but this time Sport was ready. He tried to shove the blade into the boy's stomach, but he saw it, and dodged but ended up loosing his balance and landing on the ground near his feet. Sport kicked the boy in the head, stunning him, and was about ready to shove the knife into his throat when he felt something hard slap the side of his leg. He fell the ground, still ready to plunge the knife into the boy. He suddenly heard someone call from behind him.
"No, Sport, don't kill him, he's already dead!" Sport blinked blood out of his eye, attempting to tame his animalistic instincts. He could tell the boy in front of him was living breathing flesh, definitely not dead.
"What are you talking about Jack?" He asked, his voice strangely low and calm. He refused to take his eyes off the victim for even a second.
"That's Spot Conlon. That's the leader of the Brooklyn newsies. The one who's supposed to be dead.
