" What the?" Sport got off Spot but still kept his knife in his hand. "I thought he was supposed to be dead!" He said in a voice of anger caused by his adrenaline rush.

"He is. Well he was. I mean Obviously he's not. OH I DON'T KNOW!" Dave stuttered.

"For once the walking mouth doesn't know something. It's amazing." Spot said, spitting some blood from his mouth. "I hate to spoil the fun Jackey- Boy ,cut could you'se tell your little friend here to put his knife away."

"Oh yeah. Sorry Spot." He extended his hand to help him up. Instead of taking it Spot pulled himself up off the ground.

"So why ain't you'se dead Spot?" Jack asked, ignoring Spot's show of pride and rudeness.

"It's a long story. When Crystal and Porkey attacked me they tried to stab me. From a distance it probably appeared like they did. But I put my arm down and the knife slipped into it, not my stomach." Spot showed off the hole in his arm as proof. "Anyway, they assumed I was dying and they through me in the river. I floated and got out aways down. I woulda come strait to the Manhattan lodging house right away, but I was worried that there may have been spys there. I figured it was to my advantage to let Crystal think I was dead. I need the element of surprise."

"Jack said they found your body." Sport stated.

"Yeah well, you can't believe everything you hear." Spot glared at him.

"So if this great Brooklyn leader is here why the hell am I?"

"Well, it seems as if your new job is to get him back to his position as leader." Dave said, snickering inside at the position they had put Sport in. Help the man that had just attacked him. The irony.

"What? Who is this kid Jack? Why is he gonna help me? And what's with the stupid accent?" Spot spouted off question after question.

"Look, I'm in no mood for this." Sport interrupted. "My name is Kevin Masterson. They call me Sport. You may have heard of me as the infamous Bird. I'm going to help you because I sure didn't come half way across the country for no reason at all. AND I DON'T HAVE AN ACCENT! YOU DO!"

Jack laughed under his breath. "Yeah. What he said. Well, except for the accent part." Sport glared at him.

"So this is the famous Bird. You come all the way from Chicago just to help some poor newsies? I doubt it. YA know, I heard about what you did. To a little kid none the less. The story goes you took a 12 year old kid and cut his insides out."

Sport reached out and put Spot against the wall with his hand around his throat. "Like you said Spot" He whispered "You can't believe everything ya hear." He let go of Spot and proceeded to walk away. Without turning back he yelled. "The kid was 9, not 12."