Author Note: Yes, Sage and the others were supposed to go to Queens in the last chapter, but I decided to save it for this one.
I had the direction of Queens, from the map, in my head, too good to ask the girls if they knew the way.
We hurried through the streets, slipping past the slow stragglers.
"Are youse sure dey'll help?" Poet asked, walking at my side. I licked at my lips and tucked my hair behind my ear.
"I sure do hope so," I told her.
It took a bit before we hit Queens, and we immediately ran to the Lodging House. I banged on the door, and bit my lip.
The door opened to reveal one of the newsboys. He leaned against the doorway, and stared at us.
"What can I do for ya?" he asked.
"I need to see the leader!" I said quickly.
"Well, doll, yer lookin at 'im."
Audience P.O.V
Scout threw punches at the boys surrounding her. She leapt back when a chain was speeding in her direction.
"Hey, watch it!" she screamed at Race.
"Oh, sorry!" he said.
Spot glanced around, blocking the punches the many boys were throwing at him. Where was Lance?
The one person Spot wanted to fight at the moment was the good for nothing Harlem leader – the coward! Spot swung his cane at one of the boy's head, and gave him an uppercut.
Jack elbowed the boy holding him by the arms, as another tried throwing punches at him. Jack kneed one of them, and jumped away as he saw a club being thrown at him.
Everything was nothing but chaos; how did Spot get himself into this? He was risking his life, his boy's life, and probably even Sage's life.
He glanced around and kept his eye on his sister, watching as she fiercely beat one of the Harlem boys. Well, she definitely was a Conlon.
Something then caught Spot's eye. He turned his head, and glared intently at the Harlem leader as he leaned against the wall beside a door. Spot growled and pushed himself through the hectic crowd of newsies.
He was soon facing Lance, and stared into his psychotic eyes.
"I have a special place ta fight with youse, Conlon," Lance said, his voice leaking with venom. Spot held his head high, not affected by Harlem's words. Lance opened the door and began to walk up the flight of stairs, and Spot followed, the gun in his pocket beating his thigh.
Normal P.O.V
"So, youse is tellin me dat there is a fight? Harlem against Brooklyn and Manhattan?" Alleyn, the Queens leader, asked. I nodded vigorously, trying to ignore the boys watching us.
"Will you please help?" I asked bravely. Alleyn squinted, studying me.
"Yer Conlon's goil ain't ya?" he asked. I sighed in frustration,
"Yes; yes I am."
"A'right, we'll help," he told me. I blinked a few times, not believing what I had heard. "Lemme talk to me boys." I nodded and stood to my feet, walking out the door and facing my girls.
"They're helping!" I said happily. We waited impatiently as Alleyn opened the door, grinning.
"Youse know where da fight is?" he asked.
"I hope so," I told him, remembering the creepy warehouse. Alleyn nodded as his boys all walked out of the Lodging House, clutching weapons in their hands, and shoved in their pockets.
And with one nod from Alleyn, I was in control.
I led the newsies back to Manhattan in a quickened pace, hoping we'd make it in time. We approached the warehouse, and I pulled on the door.
"Damn it!" I cursed. "It's locked!" Alleyn narrowed his eyes and stepped up, giving the door one kick. The door swung open and the boys ran in, screaming to the top of their lungs.
I slipped into the warehouse, looking around frantically for that door.
Audience P.O.V
Spot glared at Lance; Lance holding onto Spot's gun, pointing it at the Brooklyn leader's head.
"Looks like yer gonna die by yer own weapon, Conlon," Lance told him. Spot gritted his teeth, and took in a deep breath.
Normal P.O.V
I fought with a couple of Harlem's newsies, earning a few hits at the same time. I looked around and spotted Scout. She was up against a guy ten times bigger than her, throwing punches here and there.
My eyes darted around the room and landed on a door. I licked my lips and slipped through the crowd, trying my best to hurry.
"Where do ya think yer goin, darlin?" someone asked, grabbing my arm tightly. I twirled around and pulled my arm, but he had a good grip.
"Let go!" I warned him. The boy laughed and struck me across the face with his free hand. I glared at him, and drew my arm back, but he caught my fist.
"Feisty, aren't ya?" he asked. I then heard gunshots coming from upstairs, and I kneed him between the legs. Once I was free I pried the door open, and ran up the steps.
I could feel my heart beating faster and faster as more gunshots swan through my ears.
"Please no," I whispered as I approached the next door, leading to the room. I stopped and bent over, catching my breath. I then turned the doorknob, but it was locked.
Out of anger, frustration, and love I rammed my shoulder into the door. I continued this until the door finally gave in and swung open, and I nearly tripped as I ran into the dark, cold room.
Spot was on his knees, clutching his side as Lance stood before him, gun pointed at his head. Lance looked back, and Spot took that opportunity and tackled him to the ground, trying to retrieve the gun.
The two boys held onto the gun as the trigger was pulled. One shot, two shots…three shots.
Somebody let out a painful cry, and the room grew silent. I opened my eyes and trembled as I stared, wondering which boy was shot.
Lance pushed Spot's body away from him and sat up, wiping at the blood on the side of his lip. Spot rolled on his back and had a look of pain on his face as he clutched his forearm.
Before I had time to react to this, somebody grabbed my arm, and I was being pulled out of the room. It was one of the Harlem boys.
"No!" I protested, trying to run back to the room. "Stop it!" I listened closely as more gunshots were made, and I continued to struggle against the Harlem boy's grasp.
He stopped in the middle of the staircase as another gunshot was made. His eyes were wide and he let go of my arm. Without warning, he went tumbling down the steps, and fell to the bottom, dead.
I let out a small scream, and turned around, looking back up at the staircase.
Spot held the gun in his hand, a murderous look on his face. I then ran up the stairs and threw my arms around his neck. I then watched as a body on the floor in the room rose from the ground, and limped towards us.
"Get outta here!" Spot whispered in my ear as he pulled away and turned back around. He held the gun straight at Lance's head, and entered the room. I followed behind him, not listening to Spot.
Lance then lunged at Spot, and the two fought over the gun, and Lance pulled it out of Spot's grasp.
Lance lazily pointed it at Spot's stomach, and I let out a gasp as my feet moved forward and stood between the boys.
The trigger was pulled, and the bullet flew in slow motion towards my stomach. In a faster motion, Spot wrapped his arms around my waist, and the two of us went sideways to the floor.
The bullet brushed by us and out of sight. Spot then let go of me and jumped to his feet, tackling Lance to the floor.
I wiped at the blood trickling down my forehead, from hitting it on the floor. I pushed myself to my feet and wobbled backwards a bit, trying to regain my senses.
Spot grasped the gun and pointed it at Lance's head.
"Youse either give up or I shoot ya!" he warned, taking in deep breaths of air. Lance glanced over at me, and then returned his gaze to Spot.
"Fine!" he said. "Youse win dis war, but-"
"No more wars!" Spot said. "I won't go through anudder war!" Lance hesitantly nodded and glared at Spot.
"Fine," he muttered. Spot kept the gun at Lance's head as they walked down the steps, me behind them.
Everybody stopped in their tracks when they noticed Spot and Lance, and the Harlem newsies dropped their weapons in surprise.
Spot wiped away his sweat as the Harlem newsies surrendered, watching their leader in disappointment.
I sighed in relief when they all headed out the door, most running away in fear.
"Get outta here, youse coward!" Spot said to Lance. Lance walked silently away as the Brooklyn, Manhattan, and Queens newsies cheered.
I leaned against the wall, and sighed deeply.
Spot kept his distance from me, not saying a word. At the Lodging House I cleaned the wound on my head as I waited for Spot to return from seeing Dr. Grey about the bullet in his arm.
I sat on his bed and massaged my temples, trying to get myself to relax.
The door to the room opened and an angry Spot walked in, his right arm bandaged. He glared at me intently, clenching his fists.
"Youse coulda gotten killed!" he suddenly said. I looked down at my hands, not saying a word. "What were you thinkin? Have ya lost yer damn mind? Huh?"
My head began to ache as Spot raised his voice, and it ached even worse when the wound on my head began to throb.
"Answer me!"
"Shut up!" I yelled, closing my eyes shut, clutching my head. Spot furrowed his eyebrows, shaking his head.
"What?" he asked.
"Damn it, Spot! You get mad at every little thing! Will you just for once shut up?" I was surprised at how vicious I sounded, and wiped away a tear.
I brought my knees to my chest, and tried to get rid of my headache. Spot was at loss for words, staring at me oddly.
He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it. Here it comes: "Sage, dis isn't workin out. I don't wanna be with ya anymore." But Spot said nothing as he shook his head and left the room.
I rose from his bed and walked dizzily towards the door. The wood against my bare feet made me shiver as my vision became blurry.
"Spot!" I called, my voice urgent as my headache became more intense. I clutched my head desperately.
"Spot!" I cried out again, tears streaking down my face. I then fell to the floor, and blackness clouded my vision.
Audience P.O.V
Spot ignored Sage's voice as he washed off his face. He took off his shirt, and then his undershirt and traced his fingers over the bandage on his forearm.
He then sighed in frustration and pulled his undershirt back on and walked out into the hallway. He opened the door to his room carelessly, but stopped.
Sage was lying on the ground, unconscious.
Next Chapter: Sage has a brain concussion.
Author note: I know, the war was very short, so pretend it was long. Anyways, I gotta go. LONG LIVE SPOT AND SAGE!