Chapta Two

Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies.

A/N: Thanks so much for so many reviews in one chapter! Oh, just a warning, the rating has a 99 chance of going up, so if it disappears one day, search under M. Unless, you aren't allowed to. But, as for now, T all the way! WOOO:P

Racetrack sat, anxiously, jiggling his leg and shoving popcorn in his mouth. The race at Sheepshead Bay was about to start, and he hadn't picked the greatest horse. He knew he should've invited Spot or Jack or Davey, but after blowing his quarters on refreshments and a high bet (25 cents, to be exact), he wasn't paying for anyone who decided to tag along.

The horses were at the gate. He bet on #26, a horse named the Potter's Painting. He was a pinto, and Race made sure to bet on either pintos or Arabian stallions, because mustangs went fast at first but dropped out near the end. There had been an Arabian stallion, but it was skinny as a stick and didn't look to healthy. It was #49.

"Look who it is. Racetrack, ya got ants up yer pants or sumthin'? Ya look like a earthquake waitin' ta happen."

Race glanced up to see Mush, grinning in his weird way and holding 75 cents "Oh... hey..." he said, distracted.

Mush pulled up a seat next to him and stared out at the field, where the people were waiting in apprehensive silence. "Who'd ya bet on?"

"26."

"37."

"Aww, yer gonna lose. 37 don't got no muscle on 'im."

"Neither do you, but I've seen ya run 'cross the bridge fast enough ta get to tha races in time."

"Shut yer mouth."

BING! And the race was on! Both Race and Mush stood up excitedly along with the crowd, cheering and clapping and punching each other in the arm whenever they insulted each other's horses.

For a minute, Mush's horse pulled ahead, then Race's, and then, all of a sudden, both dropped back. And number 49 came in first.

Racetrack stared out at the... racetrack. He... lost! Not as if that hadn't happened before, but he had bet a lot! And now he had to pay it!

"Dammit!" he shouted, and that was a mistake.

Parts of the crowd turned their heads to him, and it was then he saw the Delancey boys staring at him. He froze. Not good.

"Mush," he whispered urgently. Mush was watching the horses trot back into the stables. Racetrack stood up and tapped him on the shoulder. "Mush!"

"Wha!" He sounded annoyed and distant.

"We gotta get outta here. The Delancey bruddas are here."

Mush stood up abruptly. "Where?"

Racetrack pointed, and to his horror, the Delanceys were whispering and standing up, and pointing at him.

Mush pulled Race through the stands, shoving past people rudely and breaking out into a run towards the exit. The Delancey brothers stood up and followed after them as discretely as they could in a crowded space.

As soon as the Newsies entered the main building, they sprinted away to warn Jack, who promised he'd meet them after the race. Instead, the ran down the steps and bumped into Spot, whose cane made a wooden clack whenever he took a step and he swung it violently, trying to poke someone's eye out.

At first, he didn't realize who they were and pushed them back. "Hey, assholes, where you think yer goin' in such a hurry? One of yous havin' a baby?"

After a two-second pause, his face broke into an amused grin. "Ah, it's you two fellas. How ya -"

Mush was way too anxious. "Not now, Spot," he intervened, "We got a problem."

Spot looked at him, his face darkening in a sort of anger/confusion. "What?" No one cut him off without a good reason.

"The..." Racetrack leaned over to catch his breathe, "the Delancey bruddas got us here. We gotta get "

Spot's attention was focused on the top of the steps above his comrades, and they spun around to see the Delanceys running down the stairs. Spot's face must've showed at least six different expressions, and his eyes narrowed a bit. "Come on," he said, keeping his voice low. He put his cane back in his suspenders and dodged through the crowd. Usually, the newsies had no problem fighting in front of the police on the street, but in a public place someone not involved would get hurt.

Spot led Mush and Race trailing through the crowd, but the Delancey brothers had evidently knew they'd be here. In fact, they must've planned it, because, all spaced out, was the Crib.

At the door to get out, they met up with Jack, who was just walking in. He was leaning on a wall with his arms crossed.

"Come on," said Mush, dragging him along and explaining their dilemma. The newsies were way outnumbered, about twenty to four. They'd need to get to Sheepshead Bay and reach Spot's hideout before they could fight.

TheCribs twisted through, following their every step. They saw Mush saying something to Jack, and the anger coursed through their veins. Kelly had thrown one of their men into the river, and gangs were true believers in 'An Eye for and Eye."

Fresh air. The newsies were out of the racetrack and escaped to the sidewalk. Spot took a breathe, popped a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it. "You fellas know how long it takes ta get ta 'hatten?"

"'Hatten?" asked Mush, "I though we was goin' ta yer place."

Spot chuckled and blew a puff of smoke. "Sorry to pop yer bubble, but me men are still in 'hatten. There ain't no one at the dock now."

"Here's those bastards," said Jack, looking over his shoulder. And, there they were, Oscar and Moris and all their friend's friends's friends and everyone in between.

Spot delicately reached into his pocket and pulled out a marble and a slingshot. He put the marble on the rubber band and pulled back.

Race prepared himself, shaking a piece of hair out of his eye and turning his hat backwards, and put on a cocky grin. "Ah, look, Jack. I didn't know it was possible faw fungus ta walk. That should be ya next headline." he made a motion to the Delancey brothers. "Here, boydies, ya'll have ya pitcha (picture) in da papes. Get tagetha."

Oscar charged at him, but Mush had delivered a punch to his jawbone before he reached his friend. This was a match to the gasoline, and everything erupted. About six more men ran out from the racetrack building, and Spot shot one of them in the neck, causing a rather painful sting. Jack was wrestling with two thugs and beating the shit out of them.

A tall Crib member, who we'll call Charlie, ran towards Spot. Spot, due to his not-so-great height, whipped out his cane when Charlie was about three feet from him and whacked him across the stomach. He doubled over, the wind knocked out of him and a great welt rising across his chest, and a trickle of blood dripped from the corner of his mouth.

Spot let out a cruel, "Heh," and shook his hair free from his cap.

Racetrack, however, with his loud mouth, often got himself into the worst. There were at least three guys on him, punching him, kicking him, and then it happened. Moris pulled out a four inch pocket knife, with a nice bit of rust at the tip. Race's eyes widened in fear. He was lying on the ground, on his back, defenseless. He didn't feel the pain from the beating, just... fear.

All of a sudden, everyone stopped. Spot was sending danger signals, although you had to know him really well to be able to tell. Jack looked up, and the punching stopped. Mush let go of the Delancey brother's hair he had been pulling, and looked up, eyes huge. No one said a word.

Moris smiled, and his fellow members held Racetrack down.

"Looks like that gotcha guys ta stop."

No one moved, afraid he'd drive the knife into their friend if they did.

"Now... we is all gentlemen here," he continued, strutting around with the knife, "So we gonna do this how it should be."

Spot made a lunge, but Oscar held him back tightly.

"Now... as I heard, ya threw one 'o my boys in da bay. An' we 'aven't found 'im yet."

"So," said Oscar, restraining the kicking Spot, "We reckon one 'o yer boys outta take a hit like ours did. Jus' ta even it up, ya know?"

Racetrack closed his eyes, and knew he had to make the best of what could be the last minutes of his life. He would die laughing. " Dear me, dey can't even swim."

Moris turned to him, and glared. Racetrack smiled evilly, and got a kick in the neck. He heard a tiny crack.

This sparked another struggle. Jack shoved everyone off him, but got tripped and fell. Mush didn't move. Everyone prepared themselves to witness a murder.

Moris kneeled down next to Race and held the knife over his stomach. He raised it up and...