For Brooklyn 3

By: Ambrlupin

Chapter Two: Be a leadah

Summary: While Red is off following Spot, the home front takes center stage as Queens enters into what could be its first civil war. With Brooklyn practically helpless and the Bronx totally undefended, can Manhattan help, or will old grudges get in the way? And will Red ever find Spot? (Sequel to FB and FB2)

Disclaimer: If I did, I'd have money. Seeing as I do not...well what does that tell you?

However, Prince is not mine. I no claim. -huggles- I wish I did tho, freaking fun charrie to play let me tell you. Albeit slightly challenging.

A/n: THIRD half of my first Newsie fic. -blink- ...when did that happen?!

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"You only have one life. Live it to the fullest, play your hands when you've been dealt them, and throw caution to the wind. Thats the only way you're going to get anywhere, the only way you're going to succeed. And it's also the only way Spot Conlon is ever going to like you." - Racetrack Higgins

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Spot Conlon had never considered himself particularly good at poker. Sure, he was okay, but he just hadn't managed to ever come up with the perfect poker face. He let his emotions rule his face too much, especially anger.

When he got back he was going to play with Race. Because he was pretty sure that he had managed one hell of a poker face the moment they had left the station and he had settled down in his seat with Jack and Caroline.

He hadn't spent a lot of time there, however, because his mother didn't know he existed. Instead Jack forced him to a private section of the train where he was -literally- by himself. Spot didn't mind. He preferred it that way.

Caroline would stop by every once and a while, surprising him once again by asking him about the newsies. She had never seemed interested before, but now she couldn't get enough of what he told her. It felt... nice.

"Hey your Majesty, I come bearing dinnah." Caroline opened the door and came in, balancing a small tray with one hand. She had started to talk with more accent whenever she was with him, he noticed.

Was that how his sister really talked? Had he never noticed before?

Spot smirked, leaning back against the wall, crossing his arms. "Come, my servant. Serve me." He lifted his chin a bit, eyes glinting devilishly at her.

Snorting, Caroline nearly dropped the tray on his head. Only his fast catch saved it. "Serve yourself." Reaching in the pocket of a long jacket she wore, she come up with something and plopped it on his head.

"There."

Curious as to what had taken residence on his head, Spot reached up and pulled down something made of wood. Licking his dry lips, he turned his gaze back up to Caroline. "Wh-Where did you get dis?" He asked, shocked.

Sinking down next to him, she smiled. "A new friend of mine heah on da train. I asked him if he would make it foah me."

"I want to meet dis guy." Spot said as he placed the wooden crown carefully back on his head, a little crookedly, as he smirked. "Aftah all. I'm the King of Brooklyn."

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"So, let me get this straight." Jack was sitting with one leg thrown over the leg of his chair, sipping at a whiskey. "You're tellin me a few guys overpowered the entire Queens lodging house?"

Before anyone had a chance to say yes or no, Jack threw back his head and laughed. "I find that a little hard to believe. Karlof was good, but he wasn't that good. Most of the men he had with him only joined up after he had power. So there was maybe a few of them when he took over."

Ace cut him off before he could open his mouth again. "Will ya shut up and let her talk? So far, Jacky, this hasn't been a talk. This has been a you-shoot-down-whatever-we-say and I'm tired of it." His voice didn't snap, but it was close.

Jack took another swig of his drink and pulled his leg down, flat to the floor. "Are you questioning how I do things, Daniel?" His voice was low.

Ace's jaw tightened. "You're drunk, Cowboy. I don't fight drunks."

"I'm not drunk!"

"Boys." Prince, although slightly amused at seeing a drunk Manhattan leader, leaned forward in her chair, sliding her finger along the brim of her hat absently. "I didn't come heah to start a fight."

"Then what did you come here for, Miss Prissy Princess?" Jack turned his drunken attention from Ace to her, his temper flaring again.

"Don't call me dat."

There was enough anger in her voice that Jack actually payed attention and stopped, looking at her with narrowed eyes as she met his gaze.

"How can you know? How can you possibly begin ta realize what we went through?" Her voice shook a bit, but she steadied it in an instant. "You've nevah been taken ovah, have you, Jack Kelly?" Her eyes slid to Ace, where he sat in his chair. "He has. He knows how it feels. But you... You don't have a clue."

Jack shrugged. He really could care less. "Maybe because I run my borough right."

With the sound of hands hitting the table, Ace got to his feet, midnight blue eyes narrowed in anger. "You run it right? Is that how you see it?" He didn't give or take an inch, just stood there, hands still flat on the table. "That I was a bad leadah, and that's why The Bronx was taken over?"

Jack's mouth dropped a bit. Drunk he was, stupid he was, but a betrayer he was not. Shaking his head slowly, he looked up at his friend. "I didn't say that, Ace."

"You implied it." Ace reached up and started unbuttoning his shirt. "Prince's right. You have no clue what it really feels like, Jack, to be taken over. You wouldn't even know where to start." Sliding the shirt off his shoulders, he turned a bit so Jack could see the brand pressed against his side. "Does it make me a bad leader to save my kids, and count my losses? To regroup to fight another day?"

Jack winced at the sight of the brand. It was bringing back some bad memories he would rather just forget about. "...No. Ace, you're not listening to me. That's not what I-"

"Jack. Shut up."

Everyone in the room spun, Prince's hand already flying toward her hair as if she could knot it back up under her hat in less then a second so the newcomer couldn't see it. But it was too late for that.

"Who are you to tell me to shut up, Race?" Jack snapped as the gambler shut the door behind him. "And who let you in here?"

Race, hands stuck in his pockets, nibbled on the cigar as he regarded the three of them in front of me. "Mush did, and dat's cause I asked him. As to why, and to who I am... Dat's easy. I'm da leadah of Brooklyn, or have you forgotten so quickly the promise I made to Spot, Cowboy?"

Jack bit off a curse, looking away. "...Do what cha want. You'd do it anyway." He muttered darkly, still nursing the whiskey.

Race took that as invitation to ignore him. Turning to Prince, he pulled the cigar from his mouth, regarding her with a thoughtful expression on his face. Holding his hand out. "Racetrack Higgins."

"New Brooklyn Leader huh? Pleased ta meetcha Mistah Higgins," she said nodding and taking his hand in return. At least this guy's got a brain. "Name's Prince," she said. Since her hair was down she figured she'd be a girl... and explain being a boy later.

Race didn't even seem to mind that, or notice. Then again, maybe he did. The Italian never seemed to miss much. His eyes went to Ace and then to Jack. This had to stop. It was getting out of hand.

"C'mon Ace, Prince."

Jack's eyebrows rose and he sat up a bit straighter. "Where ya goin?"

Without looking at him, Race shrugged. "Somewhere without you."

Prince and Ace were already at the back door, where no one would be able to see them move somewhere else, when Jack got up. His eyes were dark, his tone so sharp it hurt. "Dis is my lodging house. Im da leadah heah, Race."

Race stubbed the cigar out on the top of the table as he leaned over, looking serious as ever. "Den be a leadah, Jack." Leaning back, he followed the other two out the door, leaving Jack completely and utterly alone.

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A late update, I know. But at least its here, right? -smiles slowly-

Is it too much to ask for a review? Heh?