A/N: Ohh! I changed the title! I meant the original to be sort of a temp while I waited for inspiration to hit, but it never did. So I have changed it and may change it again because it's quite fun.
Disclaimer: I don't own Spot Conlon, he's a chracter in the Disney movie Newsies. Oh, also I took some inspiration for this tale from F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Gossip Girl book series, The Three Musketeers and Pete Doherty (there's some variety for you!) And the very first scene quite ressembles Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Everything else is probably stolen as well. ; )
So this is the sequel to Gangs of Brooklyn, but it isn't necessary to read that first. In fact I don't even really recommend it because this is a COMPLETELY different story. It focuses on the pleasures, intrigues and violence of High Society. Sex, drugs and cotillians! For a little character backround, see summary below:
Summary (spoiler)(hate summaries, by the way, it'll probably show). Basically, it's about this gang in Brooklyn: Roan the insane and charismatic leader, Kyro, his best buddy who is rather wise but mostly silent and Ugly, who is a confused and conflicted young lady with a rather unfortunate nickname. Anyways, they kind of get into a tizzy over Spot Conlon, an up and coming newsboy leader. Ugly and Spot kind of fall for each other and Roan freaks out a little. People get upset. But in the end they make a shaky peace and join up, and this story is what comes of their success
Oh, also, it is revealed that Ugly was actually "kidnapped"/ran away with Roan and Kyro and married Roan to prevent her family from being able to take her back (but I promise they won't turn up in this story, I hate when that happens) (oh, also of relevance: Kyro and Ugly had a "hooking up" relationship (whereas her "husband" (Roan) has never done more then touch her hair, so much for marital privileges!))…anyway this sequel is gonna be off the hook, yeah! Okay, enough of that. Here we go…
XXX
Seven months later…
In the bluish light of a Brooklyn bar, three men played Five Card Stud. They were the only people in the room, except for a skinny barman who kept humming to himself and wiping imaginary dirt of the counter as rats scuttled around his feet.
The three men were chugging through cigars like steam engines. They had thick, throaty voices and straight, serious faces. They wore dark suits.
The barman thought they were probably mobsters. He was watching them out of the corner of his eye when the door opened. The bar was on the third story and only accessible by a fire escape in a hidden alley. It was solely visited by those who knew where to look.
This is why all four pairs of human eyes shot up to view the intruders. They were small framed, a boy and a girl. Probably two young lovers looking for a quiet corner of cuddle in. They weren't welcome here.
"Bars closed." One of the poker players said. The barman kept rubbing away at the counter. With his customers, he had learned it was best not to interfere.
"You're playing poker, can I play a hand?" The boy asked, approaching the table. He was wearing a bowler hat and a brown jacket. The hat hid his eyes. The girl was wearing pants, which struck the men as strange. She had long, blonde hair that spilled down her shoulders.
"He's really good," she commented, following at his heels.
One of the men scooted back in his chair. "Listen, bub," he spoke with an Italian accent. "This is a private game, this is a private bar."
The boy grabbed a chair and scrapped it across the floor. He sat down backwards, one leg on each side. The players watched, annoyed.
"Am I not on the list? Check the list, I'm sure my names there," he said. The men were really starting to dislike this cocky little shit.
The man with the mouth spoke again. "Listen, kiddo, you better get the fuck out of here before I do something stupid." He pulled back his jacket to reveal a gun resting in a back strap.
"Thing is," the boy said, "you already did." He reached across the table and grabbed a cigarette pack, pulled one out and slid it between his teeth. He lit a match. "Do you mind?" The men were losing patience. The boy exhaled slowly. "About an hour ago, you made a little deal down at the docks." Their eyes flicked on each other nervously. "A deal that happened to be illegal." He exhaled swirling smoke. "You want a hit, babe?" He asked the girl, holding out the cigarette. She leaned over, a wave of hair falling over her shoulder, and took a puff.
"Yeah?" The mouth asked. "What are you gonna do about it?" His face was drawn; his fingers twitching at the ready.
"I'm just going to relieve you of that dirty, dirty money," the boy said.
"Who the fuck are you?" The man demanded, skeptical and incredulous.
The boy took off his hat and set it on the table. He looked at the Mouth with hard, blue eyes. "I'm the last person you'll ever meet."
"Now, Spot, don't do anything rash," the girl advised. The three mens' faces blanched.
"Are you Spot Conlon? The Black Spot?" He asked. He didn't look so tough now. "Listen, I didn't know you were Spot Conlon." He put up his hands in surrender. "Look, the money's yours."
"Yeah, take it," another man said, tossing the sack on the table. The girl leaned over and collected it. She peered carefully inside to make sure it was the expected amount, then gave Spot a small nod.
Spot stood up from his chair and bowed slightly, a lock of dirty blonde hair fell over a blue eye. "Pleasure doing business with you," he said smugly. He grabbed his hat off the table and placed it on his head.
The boy and the girl walked to the door.
"I bet that ain't even the real Spot Conlon," the Mouth mumbled. The words were no sooner out of his mouth then Spot and spun around and shot three times in succession. The man clutched his chest but felt no pain. He looked down and saw the bullet had only grazed his side. Then he realized that his gun had been shot right out of the holster. He looked up in disbelief, but the pair was gone.
XXX
In the pastseveral months Spot Conlon had cultivated the kind of reputation he had always dreamed about. He had mystique, he had connections. He held Brooklyn and all of New York in the palm of his hand.
They called him "Black Spot" Conlon, after the old pirate death sentence. Spot thought it was pretty ironic considering he'd never actually killed someone. He didn't have to, he was that good. And even better, he only stole from the lawbreakers. He considered himself a kind of guardian of the city, except he kept most of the money to fund his other ventures.
His ego hadgrown to the point where he almost considered himself a God. There were only a few people who could humble him.
And she was one of them. The beautiful and infamous Ugly Sendim. A trained assassin with the face of an angel. She had taught him to shoot, helped him run his first few jobs. Then one day, he had just exploded. All of the sudden, he exceeded her in every way.
Ugly liked to think she had always known he had it in him. She glanced at him now as they walked home, and she couldn't help her heart from swelling with pride. He was cool, he was confident; he was that absolutely perfect guy who took what he wanted. And he wanted her.
They walked through the nighttime streets with a glow that made people turn their heads and watch. They felt superior and god-like.
They reached The Coronation Hotel, a place overlooking the river with all the luxury of the Ritz but a more interesting clientele. They strode through the lobby. The doorman tipped his hat, heads turned, greetings were tossed eagerly. They smiled serenely and got on the elevator.
Rodney, who ran the elevator, smiled at them. "You two have a nice night?" He asked. pulling the knob to the top floor. Spot nodded as the elevator shuddered. He turned and looked at Ugly as it began to ascend. His eyes were soft and sexy. He approached her, looking down at her with a crazy confidence that lit her up. They kissed slowly and deeply as the elevator flew up to the penthouse.
XXX
Success did not sit well with Roan Xavier. He needed an enemy to fight, something to rail against. Ever since Spot Conlon had started running with their gang, business had exploded. Roan wasn't sure whether he was lucky or just talented. It was probably a little bit of both. Either way, it seemed that together, they just couldn't lose. There was nothing left to want.
With no enemy to battle, Roan had begun to wage a fierce and dangerous war against himself. And the drugs were winning. A person who had not seen Roan over the pastseven months probably wouldn't even recognize him. Where he was once cut, muscled and powerful, he was now waifishly thin. His eyes were permanently circled with deep brown shading. His hair was messy and matted and his head seemed larger for lack of flesh. In contrast to his disheveled appearance, he wore beautiful suits and Italian leather shoes so that he looked almost poetic. The tortured genius, the pathetic lush.
He was sitting now on the balcony of their top floor penthouse, chain-smoking cigarettes like he was trying to poison himself. Kill me now, kill me now. He stared vacantly over the river and into the dark, vast sky.
"I'd like to go there," He mumbled to his best friend.
Kyro sat next to him, feet up on the rail and legs crossed below the knee. He had yellow hair and yellow eyes. Kyro was one of those people who never seemed to change. The kind that made you think, he must be from somewhere else. Yet you weren't quite sure where. He was distant and detached and unreadable.
He and Roan had always made the perfect pair. Where Roan was mad and unpredictable, Kyro was constant and cool as snow. Kyro had watched Roan fade away with the same removed observance with which he viewed everything. He was always there, watching and never wavering.
Kyro slowly exhaled his marijuana cigarette. "We should," he mumbled back.
Roan craned his head back, unsure whether he was high off crack or opium…or both. "Fucking hell," he mumbled. Kyro couldn't agree more.
XXX
My, my, how time changes us all! So, whadya think? This chappie has a lot of information to process! Anyways, now it's time for some questions…
Spot for president! Is Spot Conlon really unstoppable? Can you believe a teenager has grown men shaking in their boots? Must be those killer good looks!
And how 'bout Miss Ugly, we didn't here to much about her except that she is head over heels for Spotty-kins. But can she hold onto a guy that magnetic?
And then there's Roan, who didn't do too much in this chapter, but promises some drug-laced excitement! Why is it the insane always find their way to drugs? Aren't they already crazy enough? Guess you can never be two insane.
Kyro didn't say much either. He's probably the only one who hasn't changed, well, visibly anyway. But how does he feel about Spot and Miss Ugly? That and more will be revealed when the two lovebirds get off that damn elevator in the next chap! Until then mes amis…