Only the sound of the candle was heard throughout the room which was now taken over by the combination of anxiety and apprehension. Bolt, Manhattan, and Queens all remained in place without uttering a word or even breathing for that matter. Jumper looked at the two "guests" and took a step back, but did not back down. He stood at the side of the Brooklyn leader. Spot's heart beat insanely fast, but he tried not to let it show. His feet stood firmly planted into the floor and his arms stuck to his sides with clenched fists. It only lasted for a few seconds, this silence. However, it seemed to everyone there to be an eternity.

"Bronx?" Spot asked roughly.

The Bronx leader to the left rolled up his visibly worn, navy blue shirt sleeve up to his elbow, showing the native B engraving. At his right, the other leader was smiling menacingly at Spot with crooked teeth that proved he had lived on the streets for most of his life.

"You guys got names?" inquired Jumper.

"Smash," the one on the left answered with a scratchy voice that sounded like sandpaper against concrete. Any sort of peep from him caused anyone within earshot to cringe and shudder. "Dis is Crawl." He pointed to his sidekick.

Crawl let out a grunt from his disgusting mouth that was surrounded by a scruffy chin, and crossed his overbuilt arms over his bulging chest.

"Crawl doesn't say much," Smash informed them.

Spot squinted at both of the newcomers. "All rights. Are you-"

"No," Smash cut off. "Pierce, tha real leadah, wasn't able ta make it. Previous engagement, as he told us."

Although very minor, a small weight lifted off Spot's shoulders. But then again, there must have been a real reason this Pierce guy hadn't shown up.

"So, he sent his lowly servants ta deal with his shit? Impressive," Jumper said sarcastically.

Crawl stepped forward quickly and grabbed Jumper's cream-colored shirt collar and lifted his feet a few inches from the ground. Jumper's hands immediately went to Crawl's wrists. Spot's stiff arm flung to Crawl's shoulder and shoved him back. He gave him a cold glare that didn't need words.

"Not heah, Crawl," Smash calmed him down mockingly and pushed his arms down to his side.

Crawl smirked at Spot and stepped back. Jumper shook out his shirt and sat back down to his original crate, muttering things under his breath.

"Let's just get started," Spot announced without taking his eyes off Crawl and Smash.

The two Bronx citizens stomped over to two empty crates near Davey who looked like he was about to piss himself. His eyes were huge and his entire body was frozen. Bolt, from the corner, locked his gaze upon the two and didn't let go.

"Okay," Spot began, "dis is an issue we'se been dealin' wit for a while now: territory. There's been problems wit newsies goin' into the next territory ova. It's gotta stop." He looked around the room: nobody said anything. He noticed Smash staring at him through evergreen eyes with a look that could get under anyone's skin. Smash was not an open book and God only knows what insane thoughts were going through his mind. "S-so, Queens, make sure ya boys stay in Queens. Got it?"

Queens didn't answer.

"Got it?" Spot repeated in a higher volume.

"Got it," one of them finally responded after clicking back into the conversation.

"Any problems in Manhattan or Harlem?"

Jack and Jumper shook their heads. Davey, who was now turning to a pale white, didn't move.

"Any otha things dat need ta be brought up?"

Silence.

"Yeah, I got one," Smash spoke up after a few seconds.

Goose bumps formed on Spot's arms and shot up the back of his neck. He didn't want to hear anything about what the hell went on in the Bronx.

"I wanna know why some territories try ta act bettah den otha ones."

Even more anxiety stepped in. Jumper squirmed in his seat to show the lack of comfort. Spot, with his hands crossed together and elbows rested on his knees, strengthened the clasp in between his fingers. They soon became damp with sweat and he watched Smash intently, trying to figure out how answer this.

"Ya know what I mean?" Smash asked again.

Now he was deliberately trying to get a rise out of Spot. He knew he wasn't really looking for an answer. Spot's knuckles were turning white and the pain was just starting in.

"I think the meeting's over," he gave up. Spot got up and turned to go to the door. It was a very un-Conlon thing to do; just stop like that, letting the other person think they've won. He would have never gone down without a fight, but this was personal. And Smash and Crawl were taking full advantage of it.