Disclaimer: I do not own Jack Kelly or Spot Conlon.

This is for Newsie Challenge Weeks 10-11!

Enjoy!!!

-Chapter 1-

I am a murderer. In a way I don't regret anything that had happened in the year 1900. He deserved to die. The great prophet, the king of his land, they called him, the great leader of his territory. Every morning, whether rain, snow, hail, or hot and humid temperatures he sold newspapers, and so did his boys. If he sold papes, they sold papes. He was their leader and they did every last thing he told them to do. If he said, 'jump,' they said, 'how high?'.

They were never his servants or anything like that, but they had the utmost respect for him. From his youngest orphan to his oldest newsboy, I have never seen such respect and fear in their eyes when anyone spoke his name. I use the word fear, but I don't mean it as it sounds. They weren't scared of him, not at all. They weren't afraid to approach him, unless they knew they were to be punished, and they weren't afraid to speak of him or worry to immediately do as he says, unless of course, it was on a strict command to be completed at the moment.

They didn't fear his ego, no matter how large it became, or the assertiveness that went along with his voice. However, to avoid fearing the leader, they all used common sense. For example, I never heard not one newsie question his accessories. They knew better, I guess. They knew better than to question his past, ask him why he wore it all the time. I knew why of course, but none of the newsies knew that I knew, and none of them bothered to ask.

One reason being many of them weren't smart enough to realize I knew. Another reason being even if they thought I did know, they knew I would have been sworn to secrecy behind the matter of the subject. So like I said, some of them may be scared of his power or strength, but to the well-organized mind, he was nothing but an old softie with a large ego.

Back in 1900 I was pretty well known amongst both Manhattan and Brooklyn. Along with the great leader that I spoke of earlier, I was respected. In a way I acted as a tie, a bond if you will, between Manhattan and Brooklyn. I was a string that both Jack Kelly and Spot Conlon held onto. I kept Manhattan and Brooklyn allied, for both territories knew that if they ignored one another turmoil would spread like wild fire. Why, you may ask. Well, for one thing, my boyfriend was on of the great leaders I am referring to, on the other hand, the other great leader was my older brother.

You might remember or you might not remember what the first thing I told you was. I told you that I was a murderer. I murdered the great prophet, committed vaticide, if you will. I killed him and the whole city knew it. It was obvious, and the fact that I had admitted it helped a little.

I always had threatened him, but I never really meant it. He just went too far. Everyone it the lodging house didn't think anything of it when I threatened him, they knew I was just angry with him and had lost my temper. After the boys realized I had done it, and I told them that I had, I expected the relationships between us to change. It was practical that it did. They knew I had a reason to kill him, even if they didn't exactly know what that reason was.

And at that point they would probably never know exactly why, unless my brother told them, because they knew better than to question me about it. Many of the boys, no matter what age, feared me and lost their true respect for me. I had killed their leader, their king, their prophet. They had a right to fear me, but I never acted any differently towards them.

It was hard not to though because they barely communicated with me. Especially the older boys, such fear in their eyes. Making mental notes to themselves to never make the same mistake their leader had, the mistake that had gone to far, the mistake that had gotten him killed.

Even though I had taught them all a very valuable lesson, I hated how our relationships and friendships were torn apart, murdered as well. But not for one second have I ever regretted what I did. You might not believe me, so I'll explain it to you. I'll tell you everything that happened last summer, the summer of 1900.

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