A/N: Sorry for the wait guys. School just got out, and my life's been a little hectic. But here you go, I really hope you like it. And if you're a new reader, well, give it a try. Hopefully I wont disappoint.

Oh, and I know I said Spot's love interest may come into play here, but I decided to hold her off until the next chapter. cowers in a corner Don't be too mad at me... :)

Chapter Two

Manhattan. Spot didn't really like Manhattan. People there just didn't know their place. Jack was a good fighter, had been for as long as Spot had known him. His skill didn't match up to the King of Brooklyn's, but he wasn't too shabby. However, when it came to his newsboys, Jack's fist went limp. Anyone could join the Manhattan newsies, as long as they could scream a headline. Spot never really understood that. Letting weak little kids into your army just 'cause they want to play "newsie" for a day? No, that was something Spot would never comprehend. Jacky Boy may be smart, but his compassion was chipping away at the foundation that his fragile Manhattan status was resting on.

Spot pushed open the door to Tibby's and distinctively stepped inside, making sure his presence was known. The bustle and clamor that had previously occupied the tiny newsboy hangout stopped dead in it's tracks. Smiling faces quickly turned serious and whispered conversations ended abruptly. Spot Conlon had arrived and by the icy look in his eyes, he wasn't too happy.

Without saying a word, Spot quickly headed to the empty table where Jack was sitting patiently waiting for him. As he walked through the restaurant, his cold eyes stared down any unfortunate onlooker who caught his eye. It would seem that Spot was annoyed with the many eyes following him as he strutted through the tables, the way he glared at anyone he caught staring, but in his head he loved it. The attention he was receiving let him know he was still feared, still on top.

Spot sat down on the empty chair across from where Jack was sitting. Night and Smalls sat down at one of the tables where a few boys were playing poker. Conversations that the other newsies were having started up again, and heads turned back away from Spot. None of them wanted to be caught eavesdropping on the two leaders' conversation, especially since Spot looked to be in no joking mood.

"So, Cowboy," Spot began leisurely. "I hear youse been havin' some trouble with them Queens boys."

Cowboy sighed, ripping up his napkin into little pieces. "I know Bull nevah really liked me much, but I din' think he would up and threaten me for me own territory..."

Spot looked down and examined his cane, running his fingers along the grooves inlaid in the gold. This wasn't good for Kelly. Bull had always been a fairly hostile leader, but he had never demanded territory before. What the hell was that dumbass thinking? Something like this would cause war. Bull had never been the sharpest tool in the shed, but even he should have known what repercussions his little threat would cause. It was known throughout the city that Spot and Jack were good friends, and if anyone thought of messing with Manhattan, it was only common sense that Brooklyn would get involved too. Bull was a cocky son of a bitch, but did he really think he could take on the toughest borough in the city?

"It seems tah me," Spot said slowly, "that Bull is trying to hit two birds wit one stone."

"Wha'? Brooklyn? Yah think he's tryin' to take down Brooklyn?" Jack questioned, astonishment on his face. It was unheard of. Challenging Brooklyn was unheard of.

"Think about it, Jacky Boy. He knew I wouldn't just stand by and watch while he kicked you to da curb."

"But even Bull ain't that stupid. I don' think all the boroughs combined could take down Brooklyn, let alone Queens all by itself."

Spot smiled smugly. "You got dat right Jacky Boy. Those Queens boys sure got some balls..."

"...But no brains." Jack finished for him.

"Speaking of brains, where be dat Walking Mouth of yours?" Spot said, scanning the restaurant.

"He's been helpin' out his Ma at home. His Pa still ain't doin' too well."

Spot just nodded.

It was true, David's father was still recovering from his hurt arm. He seemed to be doing well for a while, but then it just got worse. David told Jack that the doctor said he had some kind of infection. Jack couldn't remember the name, but David said it was serious. Jack sighed, he really wanted Davey to be here. He was going to need his advice when the push came to throw, and he wanted him to hear what Spot had to say.

Getting back to business, Spot leaned in and stared Jack straight in the eye. "You listen to me, Cowboy. Next time Queens sends a runner to yah, 'demanding' territory or whatnot, you get one of yah boys to come and get me. I'll take care of him for yah, and maybe Bull will get the message and back off. If not, it's gunna be war," Spot finished, slamming down his fist on the table. A few of the newsboys turned their heads to see what the commotion was about, but a look from Jack told them to go back to their business.

His eyes downcast, Jack drummed his fingers on the table. Spot definitely got right down to the point. Was this the right thing to do? He didn't know. Damn, this is exactly why he wanted David here. But then again, fighting was Spot's element. The King of Brooklyn was offering him his help, and Jack was in no position to refuse.

Jack spit in his hand and held it out. Spot did the same and shook it.

"Thanks, Spot." Jack said, somewhat humbly, maybe?

Spot grinned in return. "I'm gunna let these Queens boys know exactly who they be messin' wit."

With that, Spot stood up and walked towards the door. Once again the diner became silent. "Smalls, Night, we're leavin'." The two Brooklyn boys got up and followed Spot out the door. They didn't ask any questions. Spot would tell them if he wanted to.

Meanwhile, in the diner, all heads turned to Jack.

"We're goin' to war with Queens..." Jack said almost uncertainly.

There was a chilling silence once more. Manhattan wasn't a very violent place. There had never been a war involving them before. What was this going to lead to?

"With," Jack continued, "the help from Spot."

You could almost hear the relief crash over the Manhattan newsies. Spot Conlon was on their side. With him, at least, they had a fighting chance.

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A/N: You know what to do. Reviews mean a lot to me, they let me know someone is out there, actually interested... so c'mon! Click that purdy little purple/blue button at the bottom of the screen! You know you want to... pwease?

Outsider Wolf