Disclaimer: I own nothing…well nothing 'cept the characters that you don't recognize from the Gangs of New York movie. Everything else belongs to the director, writer, and producer of Gangs of New York.
Authors Note: All righty then…when I was typing up this chapter I realized something that I totally screwed up on, the dates/years. In the first chapter Wallace's journal entries are dated 1863. Now I was just re-watching the movie and I realized mathematically I screwed up, the movie takes place in 1862 not 1863, and at one point in a chapter Frankie says that the fight between the Irish and the Natives with Bill and Priest happened 10 years before when I have my story taking place. So I'm very sorry that I screwed that up. For future chapters and for future knowledge, the fic takes place at the moment a year before Amsterdam gets out of Hell Gate, so about 1861 eventually it will catch up with the movie time period itself. Again I apologize for the mix up and my idioticness.
Also this chapter may be a little more er what's the word I'm lookin' for...uh...mouthy and more full of language then the others.
Now on to…(looks at reviews) ok…the one review I received
Copper Fizz (Anna): Glad you enjoyed the chapter…I haven't updated this in so long…I just had writers block on it then out of the blue the other day I got inspired to start it up again, and now I have more of an idea of where I'm gonna take this so updates should be more frequent.
Living like Wallace…hm…well for one thing I'm a history nutcase yes nutcase would be the best description all my friends know that I would rather visit a place like Williamsburg Virginia, or Plymouth Plantation then an amusement park. So I think I would have liked living back then…now living in the points themselves…that's another story, but I would have done good in the pick pocketing industry I'm pretty good at it…till my very guilty conscience would eventually kick in and I'd feel bad about stealing something from someone and probably given the stuff back. Heh…
The Scamerhorns were the people in the movie from the upper part of New York, like 5th avenue or something like that, they were being taken on a tour of the points by the constable. Uh…according to Amsterdam in the movie he says "The Scamerhorns were one of the oldest families in New York, they didn't run the city, but they were listen to quite closey by those who did." Or something like that, I'm not angry for you asking, questions are always welcome I probably should have explained who they were better in the fic, your probably not the only one who didn't know who they were. If you have any other question don't be afraid to ask…I tend to confuse people in my fics so if I do I apologize.
Well I hope you enjoy this new chappie, my names Kris by the way. Later!
Ok so that was the only review I had. Now with out further ado chapter 5!
Even though Wallace was exhausted from the days events, sleep wasn't coming easy to him. He always had trouble sleeping in new places with its new feelings and new noises, but for some reason, sleep was harder to come by here. The noises of the house were the same creaks and groans he had heard at his own home back in Scotland so that didn't make a difference. What did make a difference was the fact that instead of hearing the animals calling to one another outside and his father snoring in the room next-door, he heard shouts and screams coming from outside.
Nothing Wallace did could block out these noises, he covered his head with his pillow, he buried himself in the blankets despite it being a warm night nothing helped. Finally, he got up and walked to the window to see what all the noise was about. When he did, he wished he hadn't. Down below on the street he saw a small fight going on, between three men, closing his eyes and opening them again, Wallace could see that there was a fourth person, a young woman the men had her trapped against the building across the way and they were fighting over her. Wallace watched as one of the men slugged the other, he went down and quickly got up, then in the firelight from the lanterns, Wallace saw the flash of a knife as the man wielding sliced it through the air, he heard the man hit the ground hard, and this time he didn't get up.
The remaining men walked over to the terrified woman. Though Wallace couldn't really see what was going on, he did see the woman's face, and the look of pain and fear, she looked up at him and for a moment their eyes met, as he watched one of the men held her down while the other climbed on top of her. She let out a shrill scream and he heard her shout
"No God please no!"
"Shut up!" the man on top of her shouted then Wallace heard the slap as he slapped her across the face.
That slap silenced the screams and shouts that had been keeping Wallace awake. But now, the silence was worse then the noises themselves, he knew what was going on and wished he could do something, but knew he couldn't.
"'Oly Mary mother of God…" he muttered. Suddenly the man on top of the woman looked around, he glanced up at the window and for a brief second his eyes and Wallace's locked, quickly Wallace ducked away from the window, but it was to late the man had seen him, probably hadn't gotten that good of a look at him, but had seen him. "Bloody 'ell…" Wallace said, he felt his whole body shaking and felt his breaths coming quicker. Slowly he glanced out the window again, the two men were gone; the only ones left were the woman and the man who had been killed. The woman was laying motionless and though he couldn't be positive, Wallace was certain she was dead. Wallace backed away from the window and fell into his bed. Now he definitely wasn't going to sleep, he leaned against the wall, his knees tight against his chest as his body continued to shake. He had seen two murders, and he had seen the murderer who had possibly seen him as well. "I'm a dead man…" Wallace said closing his eyes; he quickly opened them when what he had just seen flashed in his mind.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the murder, the woman and what was done to her, and the murderer, and for the remainder of the night, Wallace forced his mind to picture his home in Scotland, forcing it to see the highlands, and the beautiful green moors, he desperately pictured his beloved home and pictured himself back there, with his father…with his grandparents.
At some point, Wallace fell asleep, because when he opened his eyes, it was dawn. The sun was beginning to send rays of light into the room and across the floor. He slipped out of bed, found his shoes and slipped them on. He hadn't changed out of the clothes he had been wearing the previous day, but since he had exactly slept, they were only slightly wrinkled. There was a chamber set and a washcloth, ready for use. Neither were very fancy, but Wallace was happy just to have them. He washed his face and wet his hair down. Before they had left for America, Wallace's father had cut both of their hair, Wallace's had been long enough for him to tie it up like his grandfather, but his father, fearful of lice and fleas that the ship was sure to be carrying, had cut their hair. It had begun to grow back on the trip, and now was nearly back to normal.
He was just slipping on his cap, when there was a knock on the door, seconds later Sarah came in.
"Miss Charlotte sent me to fetch you for breakfast, she also wanted you to know that this is the last time she will send for you, you will have to take care of getting down for breakfast on your own from now on." She said coolly, before turning on her heels and walking out of the room.
"She's becoming as warm as a winter back 'ome in the 'ighlands." Wallace muttered, a confused look on his face, sighing he followed her down the stairs to breakfast. Not much was said at breakfast, and after everything had been eaten and the table cleared off, Sarah left, apparently running errands for the aging Miss Charlotte. Wallace, thanked Miss Charlotte for the meal and hurried outside. He had been planning on following her, but had stopped when he saw the large crowd gathered near the decrepit house across from the boarding house. He ran over there and wiggled his way through the crowd even though he knew what they were all gaping at, he wanted to make certain he hadn't dreamed it all. It was the couple from the previous night, and now being closer he could get a good look at them. The woman was young, nineteen twenty years old and the man was about the same age give or take a few years. The man's throat had been cut and the sidewalk was covered in dried blood. The woman's face was bruised and bloody and her neck was bruised, her clothes were torn leaving her partially naked. No one had covered her up to give her at least some decency as they all gapped and chatted about the two people as if it was just a common thing to find dead people on the streets.
"Here, here, what is this?" called a gruff voice. Wallace turned around and looked, it was a police officer. He walked over and pushed the onlookers out of the way.
"Looks to be like she tried to rob this man, probably cut his throat," another officer said.
"And what happened to her do you suppose,"
"Someone probably took it upon themselves to make sure justice came through." Wallace couldn't believe his ears, that wasn't what happened at all. He knew he should probably keep his mouth shut, but he couldn't help it.
"That tisnt what 'appened!" Wallace said loudly the crowd all looked at him "two men 'tacked this lady and this man tried to 'elp 'er and they killed 'im."
"And just how do you know that?" The second officer said gruffly looking at Wallace.
"I seen it, las' nigh'"
"Are you sure what you saw was what happened?"
"Aye,"
"So you are calling this man a liar?" the officer said "or blind?"
"No course not, jus' I seen it tis all,"
"I think you need to run along now boy a murder scene aint the place for children and we certainly do not need the help from a no good lying Irish bastard. Now git!" the officer said pushing Wallace away. Wallace hit the ground, got up and ran off.
"I bleedin' swear one more of these bloody bastards calls me an Irish, there will be 'ell flyin' in the five pints."
"Are you tryin' to get yourself killed there boyo?" Wallace looked to where the voice was coming from. It was Frankie and he looked worried and a little angry,
"No, but they got it all wron' they think that woman killed that man fer 'is purse, twasnt like that I seen it all las' nigh'."
"Hey I believe you," Frankie said as they walked towards Paradise Square. "But that aint how things work in the Pints. You never argue with the law on something like that, they don't care about some Jack Dandies from the pints, now if it was someone from uptown then they might listen to you."
"That aint righ',"
"No tisnt, but that's the way things run 'round here, you need to get used to it or else your goin' to get yourself killed."
"But other people may get killed if that bastard tisnt caugh' 'ow can 'e kill them people and then get 'way with it"
"Aye he may do just that, but Wallace this is what I've been tryin' to explain to ya, this isn't the old country, thing's get run differently. No one cares what happens in the pints as long as it stays in the pints."
"So nothin' will be done 'bout the murders?"
"The only way something would be done boyo? Would be if the murderers had killed an uptown couple down here or if the murderers themselves came forward and confessed the whole thing. Nither of which is every goin' to happen the first has a better shot of happenin' then them confessin'. So just forget about it. there's nothin' you can do."
"But I watched them be killed; I saw it with me own two eyes,"
"That's the other thin' Wallace, did you ever stop and think that maybe them murderers know that you saw them and might come after you?" Wallace stopped short and looked at Frankie…he knew that the murderer did see him, but the thought that his life would be in danger because of that hadn't hit him yet. "You didn't even think 'bout that did you?" Frankie sighed and leaned against the iron fence, "no one cares 'bout no one 'round here 'cept themselves, your on your own, sure you may have some lookin' out for you, but in truth the only person you can really count on out here is yourself. Understand?" Wallace nodded
"Aye," he said softly
"That's one of the reasons the gangs aint so bad, we look out for each other."
"But I don't want to join the gangs, no 'fense Frankie, I jus' aint ready fer one,"
"I know…that's fine, you pal 'round with me, Little Forty Thieves will look out for you even if you aint 'part of the gang."
"Really?"
"Aye, and Bill the Butcher's already taken a fancy to you, so you's got him on your side to. As long as you keep low and just go with the way your life is now you'll be fine." Wallace nodded and Frankie grinned "good, now I promised you the ins and outs of pickings in the pints didn't I?"
"Aye you did,"
"Then lets get started. Now first thing you need to know, be on guard, anyone can be a picker anyone. If you don't watch whose 'round you they'll rob you blind, all your pickings will become theirs," Frankie sat down on the curb and motioned for Wallace to do the same. When he did Frankie pointed out a group of girls about twenty years old and a few older boys standing near by them. "Now you tell me who out of that group do you think is a pickpocket?" Wallace looked at the group and studied them, there was a boy about fifteen or so, walking past the girls, he bumped into the group girls and after apoliogizing continued on his way.
"'im," Wallace said pointing at the boy
"You sure?"
"Positive, 'e bumped into them girls on purpose, tis an old trick, only problem with it is there's a better chance of getting' caught."
"Well your right sort of,"
"What was I wron' 'bout?"
"Who did the picking,"
"Whatcha talkin' 'bout?"
"Remember what I said, anyone can be a picker. What you just saw was that poor bastard getting robbed blind." Wallace watched as shorter girl of the group, grinned at the others and held up a purse. His eyes flew to the boy who franticly turned out his pockets and looked around realizing he had been robbed and obviously unsure of the culprit.
"Bloody 'ell, girl pickpockets even?"
"Bludgets,"
"Beg pardon?"
"Their called Bludgets, fancy name for girl pickpockets."
"Their good, not many can pull that off and not raise suspicion."
"Aye, that's what makes them so dangerous, not many suspect them, so most don't even think when they get bumped by a girl. But for those of us who know the trade, we know to steer clear."
"Anyone's fair game then?"
"I told you here in the pints you take care of yourself any way you damn well can. There's less chance of getting arrested for it here in the pints, you go uptown and try, your chances of getting' arrested go up, sure there's better pickin's, but only a master could manage to pull it off, or have the wits to go through with it." Frankie paused thinking. "Now your good, no question 'bout that, hell you may be better then most of the pickers 'round here. You've got one flaw that I can see."
"What's that?"
"Your heart,"
"Me 'eart? What's that got to do with anythin?"
"Your heart aint in the trade, you cant be thinking that this is just a fun way to pass the time anymore, now this is how your goin' to survive, you don't face that fact your either goin' to be caught or killed. Ya think you can do that?"
"I can try," Wallace replied softly.
"Well go for it," Frankie said pointing to a group walking down the street, the crowded streets made it hard for them to walk and made it perfect to pick. Taking a deep breath, Wallace walked over to the group causally, one man had his timepiece and his purse attacked to a chain on his vest, for an amateur it would be difficult to get the chain off in the brief few seconds one had to accomplish it, but for Wallace it was simple. He walked past the man shoving as if he was in a hurry to get through; he gently brushed up against the man trying to push past him even taking the chance to say
"Pardon me, 'cuse me, watch out!" No one took notice to Wallace as they continued on their way, no one, not even the man noticed him or gave him a second glace. Wallace walked back over to Frankie and sat down next to him.
"Well? How'd you do?" Frankie asked excited. Wallace watched as the man continued down the street and rounded the corner.
"So, so," he replied "say you aint thirsty are you?"
"As a matter of fact I am…but we don't got any money, anyways I want to know how you did."
"I told you so, so, now come on and get a drink, I still don't know 'merican money I don't want to get swindled." Frankie obviously confused followed Wallace around the corner to the alleyway.
"What's going on?"
"Jus' figured you'd want to feast yer eyes on these," Wallace said grinning, he held out his hand in which was the timepiece and the purse, still attached to the chain.
"You…you really…holy Mary Mother of Jesus, I cant believe you did it."
"What? I jus' did what you asked, only this time I put me 'eart in it," Frankie just stared wide eyed. Slowly a grin slinked its way across his face and he slapped Wallace on the back in congrats.
"Wallace your more then ready to pick the pints." Wallace grinned wide with pride.
"Thanks Frankie," he said slipping his treasures under his hat. They walked out of the alley and walked back to where they had been sitting.
"Maybe someday I'll take you uptown, there some prime pickens up there if you've got the guts and the skills, something you definitely got both of."
"Say Frankie…what is this uptown thin' what makes it different then the pints?" Frankie took a deep breath before answering.
"Uptown is where the rich folks live, the wealthy gangs."
"Rich gangs?"
"That's right, now they don't run like we do, they use their power and money to run things. The Scamerhorns are a prime example of rich gangs; they have power and are listened to by those who run New York…" Frankie paused and took his hat off "someday, the cities goin' to erupt,"
"Erupt? 'ow so?"
"A war is goin' to come to New York, a war between rich and poor, Irish versus natives, blacks versus whites, tis only a matter of time. Bill knows it as well, he's been making sure he keeps his hold over the pints, if war does break out, it'll be the pints against the rest of the city and we have the means to take on the whole damn city, but we'll never hold our own if it gets over that."
"War…you mean the fightin' that's goin' on righ' now?"
"That might start somethin' as well. We're all goin' to be choosin' sides in this, some will stay with Bill some may join the Irish, but it'll happen, the tension's been buildin' up 'tween the groups and it's only a matter of time 'fore it slams us hard." Wallace looked at Frankie,
"If war does break out…who will you side with?" Frankie didn't say anything for a moment.
"Dunno…I like Bill, he's looked out for me and my gang. But I aint no native, I was born in Ireland, immigrated here when I was five, lost both me parents here in the Pints, pa ran off with the first whore he lay eyes on, ma died a week later of a broken heart. I was never good at pickens, no way near as good as you, that's why I hooked up with the gang, seemed right you know, anything to avoid bein' sent to Hell gate."
"So you would side with the Irish?"
"Most likely, but only if it came down to the Irish versus Natives, other then that I'd back Bill." Frankie paused and looked at Wallace "what bout you Wallace?"
"I really 'onestly cant say…I don't got no loyalties 'ere, leas' not yet, I think I'd stay in the middle, not sidin' with nobody." Now Wallace paused for a moment "I jus' 'ope I'm long gone back to Scotland 'fere anythin' like that comes to pass." Frankie nodded
"That sounds good, will miss ya Wallace ifen you do leave us." Wallace took a deep breath
"Aye…but believe me it'll be a while 'fere I've got nough money to leave 'ere…a long while." Frankie grinned and stood up.
"Well I mus' be takin' off, me an' the Thieves need to go collect for the Butcher." He said grinning even wider "take care, and don't forget you've got to pay tribute to the Butcher as well now, so you might want to go pocket more then whatcha got, and don't forget to take it to him." Frankie turned to leave when he turned back to Wallace. "An' Wallace?"
"Aye?"
"Don't give it to no body 'cept Bill, no matter who asks for it, even if they say they'll give it to him for ya, don't believe them got it?"
"Aye I understand," Wallace said.
"Good, see you 'round and remember all I said." And with that Frankie disappeared into the crowd. Wallace stood up and took a deep breath; he pulled his cap down low over his eyes and gave a nod.
"Five Pints be on guard.…the bes' picker in all of Scotland and England is 'ere!"
Holy crapo…I didn't realize that it was that long…I hope it wasn't boring I really tried to keep the action apart of it and make sure the dialogue didn't overtake the story. So yeah that was chapter five, I hope everyone enjoyed and if you did I would appreciate reviews…no flames just reviews, constructive criticism is always welcome. Next update hopefully soon…till then later peeps!
(bows)
Sharpsnout