A glance up to the darkening sky told her it was going to be a long, stormy day. Emmaline stood under the awning of a building, surveying the street as she took a long drag off her cigarette. Her gaze followed several young men as they walked by her, but merely flicked cigarette ash at their retreating backs after they had passed.
If he doesn't hurry up, this is going to wait until tomorrow, she thought, frowning. I am not standing out in the rain waiting.
Thunder rang out through the streets as her eyes locked into a young man walking down the street. There was confidence in his step, power in his eyes and an arrogance about him that told her it had to be him. She took one last drag and threw what was left of her cigarette to the ground, breathing the smoke out slowly. As he drew closer, she became more confident in her assumptions about him.
The red suspenders sealed it.
Quickly looking him over, she slowly stepped out into his path, acting as if she had tripped and fallen into him. "Easy, doll," came a sharp reply, his hands catching her arms to keep them both from tumbling to the ground.
"Sorry, I'm sorry," she mumbled, remaining unsteady on her feet and bracing herself against him to keep standing. "I don't know what's come over me." She let herself go slightly limp in his grasp, her fingers trailing along his side and feeling the pocket watch in his pocket.
"Just stand up, will ya?" Her fingers swiftly undid the clasp to the watch, detaching the chain from his trousers. She slowly stood up straighter, pulling away from him as she kept her fingers around the chain. He released his hold on her, watching for a second to make sure she was not going to fall again, and then turned and walked away. Emma stood still, watching the watch slip out of his pocket as he stepped away from her and quickly putting it into her own.
Nonchalantly walking into an alleyway, she took the watch out of her pocket and turned it over in her hand. She wasn't the best pickpocket out there but she could get the job done. If she had actually been in it for the watch, she would have been halfway to home instead of standing in an alley, waiting to be caught. She turned to see if he had realized his folly yet and came face to face with him – and he did not look happy.
"Give it back. Now." The coldness of his voice matched the iciness of his glare.
"What?" she asked innocently, taking a step back. He grabbed her wrist and pulled
her back toward him.
"My watch, give it back." She pulled to try to get her wrist away from him but his grip was too strong. "I know you have it, give it back."
"Please," she whispered, tears springing to her eyes. "You don't understand."
"What's there to understand? It's mine, you took it, give it back."
"You don't understand." He shook his head, pulling her in closer and deciding to search for it himself, being anything but gentle as he tried to find where she was hiding it. "Stop! Don't!"
"Shoulda thought about that before ya nicked my watch, sweetheart," he muttered, finding success quickly as he reached into her pocket. She grabbed his hand as he pulled it away, the watch inside, and tried to pry his fingers apart. He was not normally inclined to be violent toward women, but this girl was getting on his last nerves. Her fingers slipped off his as he shook her off, headed toward the mouth of the alley.
"They'll kill me!" Her scream echoed off the alley walls and he turned back to her, a mixture of curiosity and concern on his face. She looked up at him, her eyes wild. "Please," she whimpered her voice much softer but not any more contained in emotion. "They'll kill me…"
"Who will kill you?" His curiosity had won out, but his guard was far from lowered.
"The Rebellion," she whispered, her voice trembling as she looked around the alley to make sure they were alone. "They… they make me steal and if I don't bring anything home," she broke off as she drew in a shaky breath, "they say they'll kill me." From the scowl forming on his face, she knew she was saying the right things to get him on her side.
"That so?" She nodded, leaning back against the wall for support as her eyes flitted up and down the alley. He had been suspicious of her ties and she seemed to be confirming his thoughts. If there was one group of people he hated in the city it was them. They preyed on the weak and dragged them down into the grime, claiming the right to decide what kind of street trash was allowed in the city. Newsies were the lowest on their list. "Stop that, they're not here."
"How do you know?" she demanded frantically, wringing her hands as she dropped her gaze from his. "They say they'll kill me… they say…" She bit her lip, looking up at him again. "I don't want to steal, I don't, I'm sorry for trying to take from you, I just don't want to die…"
"Can it," he muttered, looking her over. "You swear you don't want to steal?" She nodded firmly, not looking away from him. "If I catch word of you so much as touching someone else's shit, you're out, got it?"
"Touching someone's stuff where?"
"This ain't a free ride, girlie, alright?" He frowned as he put his watch in his pocket. "You've gotta earn your keep and as honest as it can be. Plus, since you tried to pick me and all, I'm not letting you off so easy." She watched him as he seemed to mull over the options in his head. "I can give you a place to stay, but only because I hate the fucking Rebellion." She nodded solemnly, holding a smile in. He was doing exactly what Dorjan said he would do – almost verbatim. "You're to keep your mouth shut and take orders, understand?"
"I understand," she replied softly. Biting her lip, she tucked her hair behind her ear. "Um, who are you?" He stared at her for a long moment, as if to see if she was actually serious in her questioning, and then let out a laugh.
"Doll, you've got a lot to learn. Spot Conlon." He spit in his palm and held it out to her, as if testing to see what she would do. Without breaking eye contact with him, she did the same, shaking hands with him. "I am Brooklyn. Everyone, except you apparently, knows that." He had the arrogance just as Dorjan had said, the cockiness and the amazing self-obsession. If she had been any more prepared in how he would act, she would worry for how much Dorjan had been following him. "You are?"
"Emmaline." He looked at her, an eyebrow raised, waiting for her to continue. "Emmaline Johnston." There was no way in hell she was give him her real name, at least not her surname. Without her full name, it would be nearly impossible for him to find out anything about her, and that was what she was hoping. The less he found out the better.
"Like I said, keep your mouth shut and take orders. Don't steal other people's shit." Without another word, he turned and headed out of the alley, swearing under his breath as the rain started to fall. She followed along behind him, ducking under awnings as they walked up the street. He led her into a large house that had seen better days, a sign over the door advertising it as a lodging house for newsies. Stepping inside, she quickly looked around as she pushed her wet hair out of her face.
"Sign your name." She obediently picked up the pencil sitting on a ledger of sorts and signed her name, with the surname she had decided to use. "We don't get many girls, so everyone's in the same bunkroom. You'll get used to it." She nodded, biting her lip to keep from smirking. "Tomorrow we'll talk about what you're going to do to earn your keep here. For now, keep your trap shut."
As they turned to walk up the stairs, an imposing figure came walking down. "Got a new girl for yourself tonight, Conlon?" drawled the deep voice of the young man walking toward them.
"Watch it, Rome, she's going to be here for a while," Spot smirked, watching his friend look her over. "Going out?"
"Patrol," he shrugged, his eyes still lingering on her. After a long moment, he turned and headed out the door without another word. Emmaline frowned and followed Spot up the stairs into the bunkroom. For it being a lodging house, it seemed practically abandoned.
"A lot of duties to get done all the time," he said, throwing a blanket onto an empty bunk. "We're rarely all here at the same time, but Brooklyn wouldn't run without us so it's a price we have to pay." He winked at her and headed for another room.
"You owe me, Dor," she murmured as she sat down on the bunk he had given her. She had known going into it that she was going to have to deal with a house full of boys who had probably never seen much of a girl before, but she did not know how well she was going to handle it when she was not supposed to fight back.
"What do you mean, the Rebellion?" Spot glared at the impertinent person in front of him, who thought it was fine to talk about important matters loud enough for anyone to hear.
"Just go find Dragon, alright?" he continued, scowling. "Find him and tell him I need to talk to him, otherwise don't mention this to anyone." The boy scuttled off and Spot settled back on his bunk, resting his hands behind his head as he closed his eyes. He couldn't believe his luck, finding this girl. Finally he had an inside source to the Rebellion, a way to find out what was going on before it happened. Who would have guessed it would have come in the form of a girl trying to steal his watch.
"You called?" A dry voice broke him out of his reverie and back to the situation at hand. He opened his eyes and looked at the boy standing in his doorway. "Some of us have things to do, Conlon," Dragon continued in his British drawl, leaning against the doorframe. "We can't always just come and your beck and call—"
"Can it, you asshole," Spot muttered, sitting up and motioning for him to come in and shut the door. "I have a job for you."
"Imagine that." Dragon shut the door as he walked into the room. He remained impassive as he settled in a chair across from Spot, folding his arms. "Well?"
"I need you to find out everything you can about someone." Dragon raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. There was a smirk playing across his face, but he knew better than to keep picking at everything Spot said. "Emmaline Johnston."
"Doesn't sound familiar." He shrugged as he leaned back in the chair, racking his brain for traces of her name. "Emmaline. That the girl I heard Rome mentioning on his way down the road?" Spot answered with a nod and Dragon smirked. "Poor girl."
"She's tangled with the Rebellion, Drag." He could tell he had piqued the other boy's interest when he sat up so quickly he almost made the chair topple. "She tried to steal my watch – said they'd kill her if she didn't come back with something. All I know is we can use her."
"This could finally be it," Dragon muttered, more so to himself than Spot. He stood, giving his leader a pointed look. "Don't fuck it up." He ducked as a book flew toward his face, it hitting the wall with a loud thud. "Get a bloody sense of humor!" This time he had to lunge to the side to avoid Spot's cane. "Alright, alright, I'm going." Still smirking, he walked out of the room and into the night to search.
"Get up!" a defiant voice roared, filling the bunkroom with groans and swearing. Emmaline opened her eyes, staring up at the bottom of the bunk above her. Her heart sunk into her stomach when she remembered where she was rather than in the comfort of her own bed at home.
"Come on, girlie, time to get up." A shadow loomed over her and she looked up to see Rome smirking down at her. "That face isn't gonna pay the rent. Although," he paused as his eyes ran over her again, "it just might." She closed her eyes to keep from glaring at him and waited until she heard him walk off, chuckling to himself.
Emmaline got up from her bunk and sighed, examining the chaos that had become the bunkroom as everyone was getting ready. She carefully made her way to the washroom and claimed the sink furthest from the door. Ignoring the loud rabble all around her, she calmly washed her face and walked out of the washroom, down to the lobby.
"Made it out alive, I see." Spot was leaning against the front desk, watching her come down the stairs. "Better than I expected, anyway." She shrugged and walked over to him. "Go back to the Rebellion."
"What?" Her eyes widened as she looked at him, biting her lip. He smirked at her expression and shook his head.
"Relax, Emmy, I—"
"Don't call me Emmy." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. Her tone had taken a turn for the sharper side and her hands clenched at her sides. Spot held up his hands, nonplussed at her exclamation.
"Relax, Emmaline," he continued, looking at her with more curiosity now. "I'm just trying to keep them from killing you. Unless you would have it some other way." He held his hand out to her and dropped a locket into hers. "We'll make sure you seem like you're stealing. In return, you give us inside information on the Rebellion. What they are planning, where they are, everything."
"That's what you're going to have me do, to make up for—"
"Yeah. Simple, isn't it?" He stepped away from the desk, closer to her, and spoke in a much lower tone. "The minute they tell you that you can go, you come straight back here, got it? If you even try to run on us we'll find you and we won't be as forgiving the second time around." She nodded and closed her hand, the locket inside. "Well get going. Manhattan isn't getting any closer."
With a final glance up the stairs, Emmaline made her way out of the house. She quickly walked toward the bridge and looped back through the docks. It was too early to pretend to walk all the way to Manhattan, she decided, and she wanted to get some actual sleep. The constant slamming of doors and boys came in and out of the bunkroom had kept her from sleeping more than an hour at a time and she wasn't going to do well with her façade if she didn't manage to get some rest before heading back.
Walking between two of the buildings, she disappeared down a staircase that hid in the shadows. She knocked on the door, leaning against the wall. After a long moment of nothing happened, she sighed. "Open the fucking door!"
"Now, now, Emma. That's no way to do it. What if you're at gunpoint?" The door muffled the voice, but it was clear that the person on the other side was amused.
"Öffnen sie die tür." The door swung open slightly to reveal a tall, dark-haired young man. "Shut it, Ace, leave me alone." The door was latched behind her with several different locks and she wandered inside sleepily.
"Dorjan will want to see you." He had caught her hand before she could get far and pulled her around to face him, his light eyes staring down into hers. She stopped, looking up into his eyes with a frown. A long moment passed as they stood like that until she cleared her throat.
"Alright, fine," she muttered, pulling her hand away from him and breaking the gaze. "Where is he?"
"Sleeping. Like most reasonable people do at this hour." She rolled her eyes and headed for a room across the building. Entering it, she saw Dorjan lying motionless on his bed, facedown. She silently crawled onto the bed, laying beside him and speaking into his ear.
"You wanted to see me?" He groaned, turning his head away from her with a vehement curse. "Ace said you wanted to see me." Turning back to her, he opened his eyes and glared. "What?"
"Sleeping, Emma," he growled, flipping onto his back and rubbing at his eyes. "That's what I was doing before you rudely fucking woke me up." He yawned and looked over at her sleepily, his expression irritated and curious. "Now. Tell me what happened."
Across the river, the sun was fighting its way into a dark, dank building through the many dusty windows. It shone weakly on the young men sitting at a table, deep in discussion. There were not many people Cage, the leader of the Rebellion, would trust to be in his inner circle, but the few he had sitting before him had proven themselves to be good enough to make it in.
"Can we hurry this up?" muttered Pierce, the most impertinent of the boys. His tall, muscular frame was still imposing as he sat slouched in his chair, staring at the table. His attention was difficult to keep, as proven by his fingers tapping on the table already, before the meeting had even officially started. Cage ignored him, and leaned back in his chair.
"We need to get everyone as sharp as we can," he drawled, studying the faces of those around the table. "I want to make a stand against this scum in our city."
"Haven't we already done that?" Pierce interjected, once again only getting a sharp glance from his leader. He shifted his gaze from the table to Max, who was sitting across from him. He knew Max wouldn't say anything – Max rarely said anything. From the looks of things, Max was ready to do whatever Cage asked of him as long as it involved a fight. There was a glint in the boy's brown eyes that could not be mistaken.
"These Manhattan newsies are nothing – we've already shown them that," Cage continued as he stood, walking around the table slowly. "We're going bigger. We need to do something that will make everyone see we mean business." He stopped across from Cards and looked over at him. Cards, the smallest in stature of the group gathered there, looked up from underneath his bowler hat and raised an eyebrow. "Somewhere close to home for some of us."