Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, and all OCs belong to their respective owners (look at the first chapter!)
A/N: This chapter's brought to you by the letter Q!
Mayfly was bored. She had spent the last four hours parked down the street from this guy's house, watching and waiting, and he refused to show his face. She shook her head.
Targets were so unreliable.
She put down her copy of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (it was getting a bit annoying, actually. After all, everyone knows that Lupin is far too homosexual to be with Tonks.), and got out of the car, smoothing her jeans. Sighing, she walked past a few houses to the one that Mr. Weisel called home.
Mayfly trudged up the steps, her legs stiff from the hours spent in the car, and knocked. No one answered. Frustrated, she slammed her fist against the door.
"Ow!- huh?"
With the contact, the door swung open.
The brunette hesitated for a second, then stepped inside the house. Something was up, something was wrong- she could tell by the way the hair on the back of her neck had pricked up.
But if something was wrong, good ol' Papa Bumlets would want to know.
She snickered. Papa Bumlets. That was a good one.
The house was perfect- kept clean, kept neat, nothing out of place. And Mayfly knew that someone had been here- after all, Weisel lived here with his two adult nephews. God knows that three men cannot keep a clean house.
Unless one of them was gay.
Mayfly was pondering that thought when she found Mr. Weisel in the closet.
At least, what remained of Mr. Weisel.
There was so much blood, as he was mutilated almost beyond recognition- even Mayfly, who had spent weeks studying his pictures, had to take a second to make sure it was him. And that time of ceaseless inspection made her a little queasy, which surprised her. After all, she had killed countless people, some with her bare hands. What's a little blood after that?
But the truth was that the thing that made her stomach twinge even more was the note- the one pinned to his chest by a wire hanger.
You're outmatched. You're outnumbered. And now you're running out of time.
Buena Suerte, Ashleigh.
-R.H.
Mayfly had never run from anything in her life. So, as she raced out of the Weisel house, note clenched in a blood-stained hand, she told herself the reason that she was running was that Bumlets needed to know about this as soon as possible.
-----
"Dutchy" Pelella had been watching the bespectacled boy for the past thirty minutes, making sure not to attract the boy's attention- and after two years of working for Bumlets, that was ridiculously easy.
But Dutchy wasn't watching the brunette because he was a target. Nor was he watching him for the same reason others were: because the boy wore (proudly) a rainbow shirt declaring that he wasn't gay but his boyfriend was.
No. Dutchy was watching him because the boy was a total babe.
And now Dutchy was bored of watching. Dutchy wanted to be doing something- preferably the other young man- but for now he would have to content himself with walking over and plopping himself down in the seat next to him.
The young man looked up, an eyebrow raised over the frames of his glasses. "Can I help you?"
Dutchy nodded, allowing his blond locks to fall into his eyes- something which he knew made him just plain sexy.
And he smiled as the other guy took notice, then gulped, the hint of a blush creeping up his cheeks.
"Can I sit here?" he asked, unnecessarily, then continued. "I'm Yuri Palella."
"Seth Quinn." The brunette said, sticking his hand out awkwardly. Dutchy shook it, then met his eyes for the first time.
And his stomach did a flip flop- when he said this boy was a babe, he hadn't realized exactly how much of a babe.
So he turned on his Dutchy charm full force, and their conversation carried on for the next hour- until his beeper when off.
"Shit." He said, glaring at the piece of black plastic in his hand, and getting to his feet. "Well, good-bye."
"Wait." Dutchy stopped and waited as Seth scribbled something on a napkin. "Call me?"
Dutchy grinned. "Of course."
And with that he stuck the napkin into his pocket and strolled out of the coffee house with a large grin on his face.
-----
The grin, however, wore off as he walked into the old warehouse-turned-headquarters/home that he and his colleagues resided in.
Mayfly was shaken, Swifty looked grim, Smalltalk was concerned and fluttery, and worst of all: Bumlets was nervous.
Dutchy eased himself into an armchair and looked to his boss. The rest of the group- everyone was present- did the same.
Bumlets sighed, and ran his hand through his hair. "Guys. I won't lie to you. This isn't good-"
"Coulda fooled me." Tabloid grumbled sarcastically, but was quickly quieted with a glare.
Karen Stranger passed Dutchy the note, and the blonde quickly read it and paled.
"Mayfly," Bumlets continued. "I don't know why he's watching you, but for the next couple of weeks or so, you're staying here. We're not risking you-"
Hotshot cut him off. "Wait a second, okay, Bumlets? How about you fill us in here a little? Who is this R.H. person, why's he following Mayfly, and why would her life be in danger?"
Bumlets sighed as every head in the room turned to him. "To be frank, every life in this room may be in jeopardy."
"Alright, Bumlets, you've got our full attention." Pie Eater said, leaning back and resting an arm across Karen's shoulders.
Their leader sighed, crossed his arms, and leaned back against the wall. "I'm not entirely sure, but R.H. may be Racetrack Higgins-"
"You mean the Big Boss Man from the other side of town?" Smalltalk interrupted. "What the hell does he want with us?"
"Shut up. Smalltalk." Rain snapped. "You know Bumlets used to work for him!"
"Yeah, but Bumlets mentioned that in a meeting, so I doubt Smalltalk was paying attention." Swifty put in.
The girl in question rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Can we talk about important things, like how Mayfly's gonna die?"
"Hey!" Mayfly protested.
"Sorry, May." Smalltalk said sheepishly.
"Higgins isn't very happy with me." Bumlets continued, ignoring Smalltalk. "But… with this note, you all could be in danger. Serious danger."
He sighed. "You should all leave, for your safety."
The group was silent for a second, until Smalltalk guffawed. "Leave? Papa Bumlets, are you out of your mind?"
"Yeah," Mayfly put in. "Racetrack Higgins doesn't scare us!"
"I know! He's, like, five-two. My grandmother could take him."
"Your grandmother's grandmother could take him!"
"My grandmother's grandmother's grandmother could take-"
"Alright, alright." Bumlets grinned and raised his hands, defeated.
"Besides," Karen added. "We're not leaving you to fend for yourself."
"Yeah, what kind of cronies would we be if we did that?" Orion added, snickering.
"Besides." Smalltalk interjected again. "Trenchgoat loves you. What kind of person would I be if I separated you two?"
Bumlets rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. Just don't way I didn't warn you."
Swifty laughed. "Come on. Since when have any of us ever taken your advice?"
------
Seth Quinn went home and changed about twenty minutes after Dutchy left the coffee house. An hour later, he walked into work- showered, fresh faced, and dressed in a suit.
Within seconds his boss, Racetrack Higgins, swept down upon him. "Specs! Where the hell have you been- I wanted those reports on my desk an hour ago!"
Specs swore. What had he done with those things? He faintly remembered printing out copies, putting them in a folder labeled "Classified", and then-
Leaving them on his desk. He swore again. "Sorry, boss, they're on my desk. I'll get them to you in a minute."
Racetrack glared at him. "Don't let this happen again, Specs. Or else."
Specs didn't want to know what "or else" meant.
------
"Just remember," Bumlets said, frowning. "Racetrack Higgins isn't the kind of guy you just screw around with. If you do, you're dead. So be extra careful, and be sure to look out for each other. You watch each others backs- or the next time you see someone it may be face-up in a coffin."
------
Dutchy was having serious issues taking this Higgins threat seriously. And he tried to, but the problem was that, no matter what, he pictured Racetrack Higgins and his cronies as tall, curly-haired men with glasses.
It was about the twelfth time that he tried scaring himself that he decided that the best remedy would be giving this boy a call.
And with that he excused himself, and ran back to his room.
From there he pulled out the napkin, flipped open his cell phone, and dialed the number.
-------
Specs grabbed his phone as soon as it started ringing, but made sure to wait until the third ring to answer it. Eager does not equal attractive.
"Hello?"
"Uh, Hi. Seth?"
"Yeah."
"This is Yuri."
He knew that, but still had to restrain himself from dancing with glee. Though it was significantly easier to do when he remembered where he was- the boss would not be happy if one of his guys started shimmying because a boy called him, now would he?
Specs was thinking "No".
"Anyway, I know this is short notice, but I was wondering- hoping, actually- you'd care to join me at McKenna's Brewery tonight?"
Specs quickly agreed, and after setting up a time to meet, decided that he was positively giddy.
-----
The first half of their date went off without a hitch- they had arrived at McKenna's, gotten drinks, and sat in the back (the only place far enough way from the house band, The Retakes, that they would actually be able to hear each other.)
They were talking when Specs looked over Dutchy's shoulder at someone. "Uh, Yuri, do you know them?" he asked, gesturing.
Dutchy turned around to see Smalltalk's eyes widen as she realized she'd been noticed. He sighed. "Yeah. Those are my friends."
He yelled over. "Smalltalk! Come here!"
"I can't, Dutchy, I'm involving myself in a conversation with Mayfly, Swifty, Tabloid and Karen in order to hide the fact that I'm watching you!"
Dutchy rolled his eyes. "I have the strangest friends." Specs laughed in agreement.
"I'll be right back," he said, getting up and walking over to the others' table. "What are you guys doing here?"
"Living vicariously through you, love." Mayfly quipped.
He stared back at her. "Seriously. I'm trying to have a date, here."
"And we're trying to make sure you don't get offed before you can get laid." Karen responded.
"Uh… thanks?"
"No problem."
Mayfly waved her arms at him, shooing him away. "You go have your date, and forget we're here. Now. Boy is waiting for you! You can not deny him your Dutchyness!"
Smalltalk cackled at Dutchy rolled his eyes. "Why do I have the most deranged friends?"
"Just lucky!" Smalltalk shouted to him as he walked back to where Specs sat, waiting.
-----
Although they tried to be inconspicuous, Dutchy noticed when Mayfly, Smalltalk, Swifty and Karen followed him and Specs out of McKenna's and down the street. It was a bit annoying, actually.
He had to admit that he was an attention whore, but no one wants their date to be public entertainment. And he knew that's what it was when Mayfly would begin to giggle wildly at their actions- especially when Specs took his hand.
The giggling was seriously throwing him off.
They all sucked at tailing someone. Dutchy seriously wondered how they managed to make a living in this 'career'- the constant giggling had to hinder their productivity.
Specs look at him. "What are you thinking about?"
"I'm counting how many ways I can kill Ashleigh." He replied, looking over his shoulder at Mayfly.
His date laughed. "How many've you come up with?"
"I'm on number forty-two."
"Really?" Specs raised an eyebrow. "You're a creative one."
Dutchy chuckled, then grinned at Specs. "It's part of my charm."
Specs returned the smile.
-----
Later that night, Dutchy lay in bed next to a sleeping Specs (Dutchy had accompanied him to his apartment after they ditched the gang).
A grin crossed his face as he turned to look at the man next to him. Yes, I can definitely get used to this…
-----
Jack Kelly opened the door to his apartment, about to leave, only to run into Michael Tirken. The latter surveyed him with a slight smirk on his face, fingering the necklace of Snapple caps that adorned his neck.
"Hey, Jack, is Michelle here?"
Jack nodded, thrown off a little (of course, he always was- Michael had the habit of leering at him all the time.)
"Michelle!" he called back into the apartment, then turned back to Michael. "Well, I've got to go. Work, you know."
Michael nodded. "Yeah, have fun, Jackey-boy."
He stepped inside the apartment and shut the door as Raven walked up to him.
"What's up, Snaps?" she asked, dark eyes questioning.
Snapple grinned, and pulled a plain white card out of his pocket. Raven took it from him, opened it, and read:
Buena Suerte.
She looked back up at him. "What's this about?"
Snapple's grin widened. "You'll see."
-----END
Ahahaha. This is going to be brilliant.