Spells of unconsciousness revived Bitter's body over the course of her first day of capture. Her stomach lurched with hunger and only once had the boy come back with food. Her eyes were adjusting to the dark of the room, revealing that it was as bare as can be, not even a window she could use for escape.

Light blinded her once again and two figures passed through before the darkness engulfed the room again. The familiar faces of Prowler and Chameleon appeared before her. Narrowing her green eyes at the boys, she said something muffled behind the gag.

"Shut yer trap, bitch," Chameleon smirked, his foot connecting with her stomach painfully.

Prowler scowled and hit his companion over the head. "Be quiet," he hissed. "If Shootah finds out about this, we're in for a beating!"

Chameleon took his voice a step down. "I guess dat means we're leaving this bitch gagged, eh?" he smirked as they turned their attention back to Bitter, who eyes were wide with fear.

"Now you kin make dis hard for yerself, or you kin make it easy, either way we're gonna get our fun," Prowler flipped out his butterfly knife as he spoke. He held it to her throat, chuckling as she gulped, her eyes staring at him, her fear showing through the bright green her eyes had turned. "Not so tough are you now Bittah?"

He trailed the knife down her chest, past her stomach and paused at her lower region. "Quit foolin' around, we don't got much time 'fore Blade and Shootah get back…" Chameleon hissed.

Bitter closed her eyes as Prowler raised his arm. She heard a faint "clink" as it tore through the ropes binding her feet together and then hitting the floor. Bitter let out a ragged breath and the boys chuckled quietly.

"Scared?" Chameleon sniggered.

As Prowler leaned over her, tossing the cut rope aside, she drew her legs back and pushed them out hard, knocking the boy on his back. Chameleon foolishly made a grab for her feet, earning himself a kick in the face. Bitter fended the boys off for a good few minutes before they smartened up.

Prowler tried to grab her feet, distracting Bitter from Chameleon, who was sneaking around back, pulling his knife and holding it to her throat. "I'd stop struggling if I were you…" he hissed in her ear, pulling on her hair as he pressed the knife closer to her throat.

All kicking ceased and she felt the knife lower down to her shoulder blade. Searing pain shot through her right shoulder as the knife cut deep, Chameleon's voice whispering in her ear. "That'll teach you to fight…" he put the blade away, hitting her hard across the head, causing her to almost black out.

Her body went limp and Prowler started to unbutton her pants. Light filled the room once again and a very angry looking young man stepped through. His icy blue eyes glowed dangerously. "Keep your hands off of her…" Spot growled, jumping on the surprised looking boy. He set to work on his face, getting him to the ground before Chameleon made his attempt at fighting the spirited Brooklyn newsboy.

There was no use trying, Spot's anger feed his strength, not even taking a blow before landing both boys to the ground on their backs, groaning in pain. Satisfied that they weren't going to be standing in the next few minutes, he kneeled down beside Bitter.

"You ok Bitts?" he asked, removing the gag from her mouth and pulling a knife out to cut her hands free.

Bitter shook her head. "Shit Spot dey cut up my shoulder," she muttered, looking at her wound and grimacing. Her head spun as Spot gently got her to her feet. Her body wasn't listening to her, it would not move.

Spot frowned with worry, scooping her into his arms and hurrying out of the room and down the stairs. The old warehouse was practically empty and an easy escape for the two, luckily. The boys were too slow to follow and cursed their bad luck.

"That's not going to go ovah too well with Shootah…" Prowler muttered, kicking the door.

-

Whispers once again filled the Manhattan lodging house, everyone thought they knew the same story, and anyone who really knew what was going on was about to tell them the honest truth. It had been barely an hour since Spot had rushed in, carrying the bleeding girl in his arms, disappearing as fast as he appeared. The only people that entered the room she was in were Spot, Irish and Specs (seeing as Gip was also in there).

The door flew open and out came an exasperated looking Irish Flare. Spot followed, hissing at her in a whispered voice. "Get back in heah Irish…" Spot pleaded.

Irish glared at him, "No… you have to be dere when she wakes up… I swear ta Gawd Spot, don't let your murderous instincts overcome ya, she needs you now!" she growled, pacing back and forth.

Spot gritted his teeth. She knew he was right, but he needed to act now; he needed to take out his increasing rage before it got out of control, before he hurt someone he loved. "I'll be back 'fore she wakes up… jist stay with her ok?" His eyes were full of rage and he had to try his best not to raise his voice.

Irish threw her hands up in defeat. "Fine, but if you ain't back by the time she wakes up, I'se gonna soak ya good…" with that said, she walked back into the room, shutting it in his face.

Spot hurried down the stairs, finding Jack watching from the stairs. "Jack," he said as he approached him. "I gots ta take care of somethin'…"

"I'll go with you," Jack interrupted, knowing already where he was off to.

Jack followed Spot closely as he strode forward his short legs taking surprisingly large, hurried steps. His fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white. "Dis is it…" he stopped in front of the decrepit, rotting apartments, long since evicted.

Wincing as Spot almost tore the door of its hinges, he followed with more reluctance. Upon finding nothing, the rage of the Brooklyn boy got the best of him and he started to tear the place apart. Any item in his way was thrown against the wall and angry grunts were the only reply to Jack's attempts to calm him down.

A good few minutes and Spot sank to his knees, defeated. His eyes were sparkling with unwelcome tears and he spoke in ragged sobs. "It jist ain't fair… why her? I could've done something… I could've gotten dere sooner, then she wouldn't be hoit, she wouldn't be bleedin'…" Spot spoke, doubled over in the pain that was growing in his heart, the hurting love for Bitter that overcame him as quickly as the plague.

Laying a hand on Spot's back, Jack searched for comforting words, for something that would make sense to say. He stayed silent, letting Spot break the awkward moment with a quick recovery. He stood, wiping his tormenting tears from his eyes. "It's gonna be fine, right Jack? She ain't even dying," he laughed awkwardly, trying to push some logic into his brain, trying to feel optimistic.

Even Spot knew the lie. Everything was not going to be just fine. Jack's silence deepened his thoughts and he started walking, walking back to the troubles that would not be ending anytime soon.