For Brooklyn

By: Ambrlupin

Chapter Three: Let's save Brooklyn, yeah?

Summary: "If someone out there is strong nuff to soak Brooklyn..." The manhattan boys have their work cut out for them- to take care of the handful of surviving Brooklyn newsies, keep their turf and men safe...and send out a rescue party to save one Spot Conlon...and Brooklyn with him.

Disclaimer: No. I. Do. Not. OWN. Blah.

A/n: FIRST Newsie fic! Please be nice and give me credit? Ok?

Warning: Blood and maybe more torture is ahead in the rest of this story. Please be wary if that stuff offends you. Thanks!

Thanx to me beta! I think im getting the hang of the accents! -grin-

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"Weakness. How I'se hate that word. To show weakness means youse are a sissy, and I'se no sissy; Im Brooklyn. Ya hear me? IM Brooklyn. And Brooklyn neva falls." - Spot

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When Jack came back, it was to a solemn safe-house. His eyebrow's shooting up to nearly his hairline he walked in, eyes wide when he saw David sitting on a bed, the right side of his face red and puffy looking.

"What happened to ya?" He cried in shock, striding forward to check his friend over. But the younger just pushed him away and crossed his arms sullenly. Well, this was a side of David he hadn't seen before that was sure.

"Davey...?"

"Red decked him." Crutchy spoke up suddenly, "Or so I've heard."

David turned to glare at him, and that was the answer to that question. "Why?" Jack asked, looking around at the Brooklyn newsies. "What happened?"

None of Spot's boys were going to spill, so he placed his hands on his hips and faced his own. "Well?" He demanded.

No one answered him. "DAVID!" He snapped, spinning and jerking the other to him with his shirt collar. "Tell me. Now."

David told him.

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"Here, Spot."

Spot looked down in surprise when Red handed him a cane, the top made of glimmering gold. "Wha...? What's dis for?"

"Congratulations." He grinned at him, "Leadah."

"What!" Spot couldn't keep his shock from his voice. "Leadah? But I thought..."

Red ruffled his hair with a wide smirk. "Thought I'd take de job? Naw, why did cha think I was trainin' ya so hard?"

"I..." Spot didn't have an answer to that, so he could only grip the cane tightly and ask a question of his own. "Do ya...Do ya really think I can do dis?"

His trainer shook his head with a chuckle, reaching out to turn him around, just as the light was sinking from the sky, painting all of Brooklyn with a soft glow. "I think youse can do dis."

Spot looked out over Brooklyn with wide eyes, all this was his...All he saw...That was his now. His turf, his responsibility. It should have been frightening. It wasn't.

"In dat case..." A smile split his face, "YOU'RE MINE!" He called, raising the cane into the air, letting the light catch it. "YOU'RE MINE BROOKLYN! D'YA HEAR ME! YOU'RE MINE!"

Red clapped him on the back, bursting out laughing, "Yes, Spot. Yours."

"Red..." Spot whispered, eyes opening wearily. Brooklyn wasnt his anymore, and his delusional visions from his past werent going to change that. No...He was going to change it. Biting his lip against the pain he started to move his arms, the chains clinking about his wrists.

He had hoped and prayed they werent broken. He had only got half of his wish. The left one wasn't broken, but his right was. Oh god...They had taken his fighting arm. How was he going to get out of this now?

His eyes closed, and he could almost feel the tears starting to fill them. He couldn't take this. His entire body ached, he could feel what had happened to him after he had lost consciousness the night before. He felt dirty, he felt wrong...he felt violated.

"Leadah's don't let themselves be beaten by anything, they don't cry!"

"But, Red..." He whispered, a tear sliding down his face. "After what they did ta me...I cant...cant keep em back..."

"What are ya, a baby?" A voice snapped, "I told ya, Leadah's are above de pain."

Spot's head snapped up and he sucked in a breath. "R-Red!"

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Red slipped a coat on around his shoulders, shrugging into the material. He had thrown a dark cap on over his head, somewhat hiding his trademark crimson hair. Sticking Spot's cane into his belt-loop aside his slingshot he looked at himself in a cracked mirror.

He looked ridiculous, he looked like an idiot...he looked like a newsie. Stifling a laugh he pulled the hat down a bit. He had never been just a newsie, he had almost never sold papes, maybe once or twice in his life. He had been Spot's right hand man, taking care of all those who were trying to get at Brooklyn.

He had failed once.

"I don't plan to fail again." He murmurred, spinning on his heel. Time to go save his little Spot. That was his job, wasn't it? He was, after all, a Brooklyn boy.

Enemies beware. Red was back.

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"Red!" Spot cried again, "Get me down from 'ere!"

Red stood with his arms crossed, feet planted well on the hard ground. His eyes were ice cold and sent a shiver down the younger's spine. "Why? You don't need me."

Spot jerked back like he had been slapped. All the color drained from his face. "W-Wha...? Come on, Red! Stop...Stop joshin...get me down, man."

"No." It was simple, hard and true. "Im not joshin and I aint gonna get ya down. You deserve to rot up dere." He came closer and trailed up the tear that had fallen down the other's face. "You aint worthy nuff for Brooklyn, ya baby."

The world spun and Spot could almost feel the floor beneath him give way. His eyes were wide, fixed on his best friend's face. "Red...don't...please..."

"Please?" Red threw back his head to laugh, "Beggin' now, eh Spot?" He pulled back his arm and slammed his fist into the youth's stomach so hard all the oxygen left him in one short wheeze and he was left to gag, gasping in air as he choked.

"Die 'ere, ya useless piece of crap. I don't know why I even cared bout you. You're nuttin but a burden." And he spun on his heel and left Spot with tears cascading down his face.

"Red...Please...Don't leave me 'ere...please..."

His best friend and trainer didnt even look back.

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Red shut his door behind him, the rays of the setting sun painting the world around him in oranges and reds. His hand trailed over the top of the cane, 'Im comin to get ya, Spot.'

"D'ya think you were goin' alone?"

Red turned to the side just in time to see Jack push off from where he had been leaning against the building. "What are ya talkin bout? I am goin on my own."

Jack snorted, "If you think you can make me stay, feel free to try."

When Red didnt respond, Cowboy pulled his hat onto his head, pulling the brim low.

"Let's save Brooklyn, yeah?"

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A little shorter. Sorry bout that, but I really wanted to end it here. -grin- im a cliffie person. Hehe.