Shades of Grey
Chapter 1-There's no such thing as Newsies
Racetrack Higgins groaned as he opened his eyes. How much did I drink last night? he thought to himself. The events were definitely unclear in his mind. He knew he had been crossing the Brooklyn Bridge, and there had been some sort of flash, and that was all that had happened before the world had gone black around him.
Great, just great. I probably passed out, and got stuck in the Refuge again. This was definitely not a good start to his day. Racetrack winced as he lifted his head off the pillow, and glanced around the room. The walls were a stark white, and the windows and door were barred.
"Hello? Where the hell am I?" Racetrack was in way too much pain to think of something witty to say. Good thing none of the other Newsies were around to hear him.
"State your name," a cold voice boomed at him, seemingly coming from the very walls themselves.
"Who's asking?"
"State your name," it repeated.
"I ain't got to tell anything to some voice. Come out wheres I can see you."
"You are in Warden's Asylum, and you will be wise to answer questions that you are asked."
"Asylum? I ain't crazy."
"You will answer using proper English grammar. We accept nothing else. Now, state your name, and where you are from, or you will pay the consequences."
The door opened, and two men wearing white coats walked in. Both held nightsticks, and looked very anxious to use them.
"You'd best do what the doctor's said, kid," one of them advised. "We haven't had an uncooperative patient in quite a while." He clapped the nightstick in his hand, and grinned menacingly. They meant business, that much was obvious.
"I'se Racetrack Higgins, and I'm a Manhattan Newsie. And I ain't crazy."
"Your real first name, Mr. Higgins," the cold voice called, and the very sound sent chills down Racetrack's spine. He definitely wasn't in the Refuge. Snyder may have been cruel to the boys under his watch, but this wasn't his style. The nuns usually stopped him. Whoever this was, this was something he wasn't used to dealing with. But it would take more than a voice that came out of nowhere to scare Racetrack Higgins.
"Racetrack's the only name I got," he replied.
One of the men in the white coats, came towards him, and menaced the nightstick in his general direction. Bringing the stick up against Race's throat, he gave a slight jab into Race's windpipe.
"Answer," the voice said again.
"What, you'se got a hearin' problem or something? My name is Racetrack Higgins." He grimaced in pain as the nightstick struck, a quick, sharp, blow.
"You claim to be a what?"
This Race had no problem answering. "I'se a Newsie."
The next question caused Racetrack a great deal of confusion. "What is a newsie?"
"What ya mean 'what's a Newsie?' The Newsies are the boys who sell you your papes. What are you, crazy?"
"There is no such thing as a Newsie anymore, Mr. Higgins. It appears that we have reached the source of your delusions."
"Delusions? What the fuck are you talking about?! Why am I here?"
"You have been sentenced for treatment due to your delusion, and you will be confined within this asylum until your illness is cured."
"I'm not crazy," Racetrack snapped at him. "You'se the one who's suffering from delusions. Not knowing what a Newsie is. Everyone knows the Newsies. We took down the World!"
"Diagnois: Delusions of Grandeur, possible multiple personality, schizophrenia. Confinement is definitely necessary. Possibly dangerous. Recommendation to be medicated."
The orderlies came towards Race, and one of them held up a needle. Race backed up against the wall. Because of his poker playing abilitys, Race was capable of keeping his face impassive under any situation, but by this point, Racetrack felt like panicking. He was trapped with a bunch of crazies, who thought that he was crazy himself. And they were in charge. This was definitely not a good situation. However, he was a Newsie, and a survivor. He'd lived through worse situations before, and he could survive this one. He was a Newsie, and knew how to fight. When the one with the needle got closer, Race kicked him, and made a dodge for the door. He ducked under the other guys arm, and pulled on the door handle. It wouldn't budge.
"You cannot escape us, Mr. Higgins. You will be treated, and cured. To make you a normal, and productive member of society. Welcome to Warden's Asylum, your new home."
The last thing Racetrack saw was the smirk of an orderly, as something sharp jammed into his arm.
~*~
Author's Notes: Wow, I really didn't expect to be writing any Newsies fanfic. This is dedicated to Signpost and StudentNumber24601, for making me watch Newsies, and reminding me of how wonderfully slashy it is. Especially Signpost, for telling me that this thing is worth posting.
Also, I'm having a casting call! I need inmates for my asylum, males and females! For most of the story, the actual Newsies won't be appearing except in flashbacks… So, if you could email me at thesecondbatgirl@yahoo.com I'll give you information about what I need for a profile.
This is R Rated, but only because I'm an evil, sadistic bitch, who thoroughly enjoys torturing poor Newsies. Especially Race. And Spot.
Any comments/criticisms are greatly appreciated.
Next chapter-more about the asylum! Why is Race here? And are the Newsies really just a delusion?
