Thanks for reviews! I really appreciate them. This story has a mind of its own, so I hope you enjoy where it goes…

The next week passed by in the usual way; Ugly and the others were kept busy with a couple stings, transport work and the like. Roan was especially active doing whatever the hell he does in the borough's underground; and particularly happy because they managed to locate Black eye's source, and by dealing with him directly, Roan's profit margin increased considerably. But he hadn't forgotten about Spot Conlon, and he spent a night or two merrily plotting his retribution while smoking Himalayan pot in bed.

Kyro was belting his pants in Ugly's bedroom in the early afternoon when they received a summons from one of Roan's messenger boys. Ugly tucked in her shirt and lit a cigarette, then followed Kyro up the creaky stairs to Roan's room.

Roan was leaning against his headboard smoking while a chubby little brunette clung to his chest like a he was her favorite stuffed animal. Roan smiled suspiciously when they entered. "You know, the two of you should really get together," he said, leaning over the girl to tap ashes into a tray. Ugly looked at her feet but Kyro remained stone faced as usual. "So," Roan continued conversationally, "do you two have any plans for this afternoon? Perhaps a little tea dinner? Maybe a cotillion?" Ugly and Kyro knew better than to respond to Roan's slightly bizarre little interludes. Roan's voice darkened, "because I was hoping we could pay a little visit to a new friend of mine, this absolutely gorgeous little newsboy leader."

"Spot Conlon?" The baby-faced brunette asked.

Roan looked down at her, petted her hair back and kissed her forehead. "That's right, baby, Spot Conlon," he murmured softly. He pulled her arms off of him gently. "Daddy had to work now, OK?" He asked, sweetly. She nodded her head. "I'm gonna get one of the boys to take you home, OK?" She nodded again and he brushed her hair back again before rolling out of bed. He stood up and stretched, arching his back. He grabbed a bag of tobacco and some rolling papers and turned to Ugly and Kyro. "Shall we to the docks?" He asked.

"Do we need weapons?" Ugly asked, immediately regretting it. She wasn't supposed to question her leader.

Roan fixed her with a stare. "Not this time," he replied, walking out the door.

They followed Roan through the hectic streets as the sun swung slowly down the sky. They didn't speak and Ugly couldn't help but wonder what exactly Roan's plans were. She had expected them to walk down to the docks, plug Spot Conlon and anyone who tried to interfere, and then return home in time for supper; but that would prove to be a difficult task without any weapons. What the hell were they going to do without weapons? Maybe Roan had been serious about the tea dinner, stranger things had happened under his direction.

They approached the docks as the city was yellowing beside the dropping sun. The scene at the docks was more subdued than it had been during Ugly's last visit. Young boys were out of the water and instead lolling around on crates or on the wooden planks, playing games or talking quietly. Roan stopped for a second, surveyed the scene and lit a cigarette. A smile was quivering on his lips like he couldn't believe how much fun he was about to have. Ugly's stomach was in knots. She scanned the docks, looking for Conlon. He was off to the side, talking conspiratorially with some boys. A sitting duck.

Roan moved off toward the docks, smoke billowing exquisitely from his nostrils. Ugly and Kyro flanked his sides, the uneasy wingmen. Their feet hit the planks and the world stopped. The newsboys turned and froze like strange statues lit by the weird yellow light. No one moved; no "mouth" tried to hold them up. Ugly and Kyro simply walked behind Roan as he strolled by with the air of an Earl surveying his grounds.

The look on Spot Conlon's face when he caught sight of them caused Ugly to smile to herself. For a brief moment, an impression of utter shock passed across his face, his big eyes wide. He quickly replaced it with the stony and suspicious glare that Ugly recognized. The boys that had surrounded him speedily shuffled off to observe from a safer distance. Roan stopped barely two feet from Spot, and there was a universal intake of breath as all who watched wondered what he would do.

Roan took his cigarette out of his mouth and reached out his other hand. "Roan Xavier," he said, by way of introduction. Spot had fixed him with his wolf-like stare and didn't bat an eyelash as he reached out and took the hand and shook it firmly.

"Spot Conlon," he replied. Roan turned and sat down on some old crates. Spot sat across from him, keenly observing his every move. Roan continued to smoke silently. He regarded Spot with a somewhat amused expression, excited to see what he would do next.

"What business do you have here?" Spot asked imperiously. He had fully regained his composure and was flashing with that same spark Ugly had noticed at their first meeting. Roan was as cool as snow.

He slowly exhaled wispy smoke, not taking his eyes off the newsie leader. "I've heard about you. Your work in the borough is…infamous. So, naturally I wanted to meet you," Roan replied amicably.

Spot continued to regard him with suspicion. "That so?" He asked.

Roan nodded. "I heard about the strike. I was impressed." Roan lifted up his left leg and folded it under him, leaning back against a pole and smoking like he felt right at home. "I make it a point to know all the most important people in Brooklyn. If we align ourselves with the proper people, there is no end to what we can do, you agree?" He asked, tapping his ashes on the edge of the crate. Spot nodded slowly. "Well, you have made yourself one of those important people. So, I am here as an ambassador for my gang, pleading with you for an alliance." Roan smiled pleasantly.

Spot was quiet for a minute, thinking. Sure, he had his suspicions, but he couldn't just blow off the handle, call Roan a liar and tear his face off.

"So, are we at an accord?" Roan questioned.

"Yeah," Spot continued to eye him darkly; transmitting the message that he would be watching him, "we're at an accord."
Roan smiled and stood up. The air was electric as they shook hands, sealing the deal. Even though an alliance had been stuck, all the observers had a queasy sense of foreboding. Roan turned and walked away; Ugly and Kyro fell dutifully behind. When they reached solid ground, Ugly turned for one last look. Spot Conlon still held his fiery, suspicious glare. Her lips curled in a smile, she almost felt proud of him.

That night, Ugly and Kyro were permitted to stay in Roan's room as his messengers reported back to him on the day's business dealings. Roan and Kyro shared some of the left over pot and Ugly sat in the corner, smoking cigarettes and feeling the odd one out, as usual. Lewis entered as some boy was delivering a message about a cock fight this Friday with some of the underground's big wigs. Lewis regarded Kyro and Ugly with a jealous glare, then sat nervously in the corner.

After the boy finished, Roan dismissed him. He turned to Lewis. "What are you here for?" He demanded.

Lewis squirmed uncomfortably. Ugly felt bad for him. Lately, Lewis seemed to be losing favor with Roan. Why, like most things with Roan, was a mystery. Lewis has been missing out on the big jobs and confined to mindless busy work. "I worked on the Stonewall property today," Lewis replied.

Roan sucked his perpetual cigarette. "That's fantastic, Lew, really marvelous," he drawled mockingly. His attitude transformed like the flick of a switch. "Did you sell it?" He growled.

"No."

"Show it?"

"No," Lewis' wide face was reddening.

Roan grabbed a knife and sharpener off his bedside table and began to sharpen the knife like it was flint and he was trying to start a fire; his eyebrows knit in sudden rage. "Did you do anything at all, Lewis? Did you do anything with the Stonewall property that I might give a fuck about?" he insisted.

Lewis' brow was sweaty. "We fixed the door," he answered timidly.

Roan stopped abruptly and grinned. He put down the sharpener. "Come here, Lewie," he requested softly. Lewis stood dutifully and approached Roan. "You've done such a good job today. I'm so proud of you," he whispered gently. "Now, let me see your hand." Lewis put out his hand quickly. He would do anything for Roan, and he wished to prove his allegiance. If he just obeyed, maybe Roan would favor him again. Roan drew his fingers along his hand, up to his wrist. He clamped down and slid the side of the knife into Lewis' open palm. Lewis trembled and Roan held tightly. "Is this knife sharp enough, Lew?" he pushed it deeper. Lewis' eyes began to tear. "Is it sharp enough?" blood ran from the wound and dripped to the floorboards.

Lewis' body shook eerily as he responded, trying to keep his voice from breaking. "Yeah, boss, it's sharp enough, it's sharp enough." Roan jerked the knife away and released Lewis' arm. Lewis pulled it in and cradled it to his chest. Roan wiped off the knife, then tossed Lewis the rag. He wrapped his battered hand.

Roan lifted his cigarette off the ashtray where he'd allowed it to rest during this little display. He took a level drag. "Lewis, you're my favorite, do you know that? My very favorite." Lewis looked redeemed. Ugly felt sick watching his face lighten under the praise. "You wanna come to Browze's cock fight this weekend? You're invited," he offered.

Lewis nodded. "Sure, boss," he responded calmly. Ugly felt like retching. She looked over at Kyro. As typical, He was staring off into the distance; what the hell was wrong with him anyway? "I better go," Lewis said, turning and heading out the door.

"Me, too," Ugly added nervously. She stood up and walked out behind Lewis.

She locked herself in her room. Her nerves were going haywire. She pulled out a bottle of whiskey and chugged it down, only to choke and spit most of it back up. She sat back and tried to breathe. Was this really her life?

Thursday afternoon, Ugly and Lewis were heading down to the docks together.

"I can't believe the boss wants ta invite this Conlon kid," Lewis fumed. The mark on his hand was pink and scabby. Ugly didn't respond. She didn't know what to say. She had no idea what Roan's plans were with the newsboy leader and she didn't dare ask.

It was another scorching day in the city, and Ugly felt strongly tempted to join some of the newsboys in the dirty river. As they walked along the planks, the boys recognized them and whispers abounded, but no one stopped them. They seemed to hold true to the alliance.

Ugly and Lewis found Spot Conlon on the edge of the docks, shooting a slingshot at bottles. He expertly pulled back and hit each one in succession. Ugly couldn't help but think of all the times she'd seen Roan blow a man dead with a smoking gun, and this guy had a slingshot? One of the boys who gathered around watching Spot's demonstration motioned their approach and Spot turned around. He smiled smugly, still proud from his perfect shots. "Whadda you want?" He demanded boldly.

Ugly looked at Lewis. He was glaring at Spot with obvious hatred. Ugly knew he envied Roan's sudden fascination with the little newsboy. She decided she had better do the talking. "We're here to extend an invitation on behalf of Roan," she stated. Spot was still processing the fact that she was a girl. Ugly was used to this in her line of work and waited patiently.

"An invitation to what?" Spot asked; rubbing the gold tip of a cane he'd just picked up.

"Some cock fight at Browse's," she explained, watching him with fascination. He was looking out at the horizon, and the golden light was living inside his unsettling eyes.

Spot turned and caught her in his gaze. "Browse's?" he asked. He seemed so innocent and vulnerable for a moment, with his big blue eyes and his baby face.

"Over on 9th, by Green Street," she responded lightly. He nodded. "A lot of Brooklyn people will be there, the big cocks, you know?"

"Sure thanks," he said, tracing his cane in the crease between the planks. She nodded and turned to go, surprised to find Lewis at her side. For a moment she'd forgotten anyone else was there.

Halfway up the docks, she suddenly remembered something. She turned and yelled, "it starts at ten!"

"Thanks!" Spot called back, bathed in the fading light.

As Lewis and Ugly walked home, she felt a strange calm. She only hoped it wasn't the calm before the storm.