Spot Conlon stands as King nearly a year now today. Albert feels like that should mean something to the swarthy looking man smiling down at them from up on his fancy little stage that looks like the deck of a ship. But he supposes the man probably sees the children who would claim the power and right to be here spread out behind the boy King with only a handful of adults between them and figures he has nothing to worry about. Didn't make the fancy dressed sailor any different from any of the stuck up dandies Albert has stood up against at his brothers' sides over the years.

Then Spot took a deep breath and a small wind started to pick up. The man's smile dropped. Spot rolled his shoulders back and the boats on the river were rocked by an unexpected wave. He let out the air in his lungs and tapped the end of his cane on the ground in front of him, resting his hands on the worn golden head. The man cries out as he's forced to his knees. His swarthy skin has gone pale with a blue tint and Albert swears it goes almost translucent in places

"Conlon, what did you do?!"

"Me? Why nothin'. Not a damned thing." Yep, smug as a cat that got a saucer of cream after snapping up the canary.

The man snarls at him and Albert is sure that if his edges weren't getting all wobbly and see-through that he'd have thrown himself down from the top of the short stairs to try squeezing the life out of Spot. Spot who's standing there calm as you please, as the man hauls himself up wobbly kneed from the floor to drop himself into what was once his very fancy throne-like chair. A very fancy throne-like chair that had looked to be covered in gilded seashells and soft silk drapes but now was looking more like a stuffed chair that had seen better days, looked a little rotten and like it was moments from falling apart in not for the rough-woven fishing nets holding it together in kep places if he was being honest.

"You insufferable child, do you know what you have done?!" His fitted vest and clean, soft looking, shirt had lost their sheen and were hanging dull and threadbare off his now gaunt frame.

Spot took another deep breath and let it out slow and even as he could. A cold wind began to come harsh and strong as his breaths evened out, banging windows open and shut and pulling at his clothes and hair. Albert keeps himself from asking Race just why they and the others are untouched by the rough wind. "Brooklyn needs a protector, someone to stand guard between our world and that which exists beyond. Safe from those who would wish her harm and foreign magics. Brooklyn stands strong and powerful amongst her allies, but she still needs protection. That is the job of the River."

"That's right." The man spits out and a thick looking burgundy liquid is spilling down the wavering form of his chin and it takes a moment for Albert to realize that it's blood. "The Bridge may be the connection between worlds but I uphold the borders, I am the one that stands between. I am the damned defender of this-" He's cut off by a wracking wet cough as he tries and seems to fail to drag more air into his shaking form. "Hells, what have you done child?"

"You know full well what has happened. You have lost your hold on that which gives you life. Sad to say brother River, but seems like your days are numbered. 'N fact I'd say you's probably got a couple a hours left, tops." The man growls at him and Spot's shoulders drop a little. His voice comes out softer and a little sad. "Time's up old friend, sorry it had to come to this."

"No you're not."

Spot shrugs again and there's a softness to his voice that makes Albert fidget and stomach roll a little uneasy. "Believe what you will. But you and I both knows hows this has gotta end. Seems ta me you can either hold on and suffer in your self pity a bit longer, or you can let it go." Albert finds himself taking a quick step forward when the thing -not a man, because the being straining at tattered clothes and streaks of burgundy twisting through it is as far from human as Albert can imagine- takes a staggering step forward.

"You would like that wouldn't you?" The thing laughs and Spot gives a rolling shrug as he slowly makes his way up the low steps. "Though I suppose there are worse fates. And it's not like you couldn't have taken it at any point with the state I'm in." All he gets in response is another shrug and he sighs. "Very well lad. Give me your hand then you brat."

"I'm sorry old friend, I really am."

"I know boy." Albert pretends to not see the way Spot's hand shakes as he reaches it out for the dying creature to take.

He can't ignore the way the watery hand that takes Spot's glows red and the boy's body seizes up as he falls to his knees. He can't drown out the shouts of the others Spot had summoned as witness as they all hit some sort of invisible wall keeping them from running up the steps. He can't block out the sight of Race's face going a little red as he yells and throws himself at the force holding them back and the crack in his voice warns of impending tears to go with the terror rising in his eyes.

Then the floor beneath their feet rocks and the not-man's form solidifies a little as he lurches out of his chair and draws himself up before the kneeling lad. His entire form begins to fill with thick burgundy swirls and Spot's head is thrown back with a strangled cry. "I am the River that brings prosperity, I am the provider that guards against the forces within and without-" His other hand lifts up above Spot's head and the swirls of red seem to gather in his fist. "My fealty is unto the City and those that call her home. My love is for her people and those she claims as her own." A slow stream of the thick burgundy drips from the clenched fist onto Spot's head, some of it making its way into his mouth. Race screams obscenities and Smalls sounds near tears as a pale faced Jack holds her back. "So as my heartblood flows through your veins may so my oaths and my vows stand true and unbroken."

Spot's lips move but he can't hear what the other boy says as the -now clear- being draws back. The burgundy is gone, likely all spilled down Spot's head and shoulders and down his throat. But it laughs and falls back into its chair with a sigh that seems to rock the river underneath their feet.

"Rest now, old friend." Spot croaks as he stands on shaky legs. "You served your City and her people well but your work here is done."

It looks up at Spot still painted red and its hollow laugh echoes through the quiet space. For a moment it's as solid and near human looking as the moment they stepped foot in the old warehouse. Then it's slow and immediate all at once. His form wavers one final time before she seems to collapse into a puddle of slightly murky water that refuses to drain down between the planks of the floor to join the rest of the river. Instead it wraps itself about Spot's calves and crawls up to his shoulders, taking the streaks of red with it. Albert shudders as some sloughs off his skin after he's mostly clean but the rest of the water and what red hadn't been washed away seeps into his friend's skin.

Then Spot turns to look out over the gathered City Heads and gang leaders with their lieutenants and subordinates and others who held power throughout the cities. All who had sworn to bear witness staring awed and shaken up at this boy king who was now something more though none were quite ready to speculate just what that meant.

Whatever it was that had been holding them back drops and Race is the first up the steps, grabbing ahold of the other boy and giving him a good shake before yelling about scaring him to death. Smalls is next, throwing herself at the older boy and clinging to him as she tearily promises many painful retributions if he did something that scared her that much ever again. Jack is there in place of Anne with a few of the other City heads and they all hang back before Jojo, one of Spot's Lodge heads, scoffs and shoves her way through the crowd.

She grabs Race and Smalls and hands them off to the rest of those still standing dumbstruck and Albert does his best to hold tight to Race as he tries to squirm back to their friend. The girl bows to Spot, head bent low and hand outstretched like she's handing him something. Spot looks at her with eyes that are a little more blue than he remembers and straightens himself up before taking a deep breath. His shoulders seem to sag a little beneath a new weight but he still stands tall and proud as he turns to address the rest of the hushed room.

"By deals made, by trials won; By blood spilt and sacrifices given freely, the East River flows anew."