For Brooklyn
By: Ambrlupin
Chapter Seven: The Bronx would like ta fight with you.
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!
Guys, this story isnt gonna be that much longer, unfortunately. -whine-
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"Weakness. How I'se hate that word. To show weakness means youse a sissy, and I'se no sissy; Im Brooklyn. Ya hear me? IM Brooklyn. And Brooklyn neva falls." - Spot
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"You talk big, but can you back it up?" Karlof nodded at his men, "All right then, Spottie. If you can get through my boys here, then I'll give you the fight you're looking for. If not." He shrugged, sitting on the edge of a nearby crate. "Its no skin off my back."
Jack looked sideways at the kid he and Red had come all this way to save. Spot could barely stand, that much was obvious. How was he expected to fight! Of course, as the brawl started, the cowboy realized he hadn't known Spot Conlon at all.
The guy was a machine, who, when he had one purpose in mind, forgot all else. And he had a purpose all right. To see the Queen's leader soaked, and then bleeding on the ground. That was what the light haired teen was going for, and Jack could bet his life on it.
Spot was going to kill him.
"Come on!" Spot cried, swinging his weapon through the air, striking a guy against the neck, "Ill take ya all on for Brooklyn!"
Jumping up on a metal ladder that ran up to the rafters, Jack scrambled up it with at least five men on his tail. That left Spot with about 15 to handle by himself. They were going to die here, he just knew it. They didnt have the numbers for this, nor the resources. He had only his fists, and if Spot lost the cane...
It would be over.
Kicking his leg backwards, he caught one of the men in the jaw, sending him flying backwards, all the way to the floor a few feet below. He yelled the entire way down. Spot glanced over his shoulder, barely able to make his friend out.
"Ya alive, Jack!"
"NO!" Came the shouted reply and Spot couldn't help the smile that flitted across his face as he tore away from someone who thought they could jerk the cane from his hands.
"Ya know what they say bout Manhattan!" He laughed, "All softies, every one of em!"
Jack pulled himself up onto a rafter, backing up slightly, daring his pursuers to follow him out high above the floor. "Yeah! Well all that's in Brooklyn are annoying midgets who cant do nothing but smoke and sleep!"
Bashing someone in the head with the end of his cane, Spot spun on his heel, eyes
flashing a pale fire as he led his own group toward the other ladder. Up there, the smaller the boy
the better the movement. Both Spot and Jack were considerably smaller than their attackers. "EXCUSE ME! WHAT DOES THAT MEAN, KELLY!"
"KEEP YA EYES ON THE FIGHT, WILL YA!"
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Coming to a rest near the water, Red sprung to his feet, cursing himself for not thinking to grab a few weapons before starting out on this suicidal rescue mission. Whip was already getting to his feet, unfurling his namesake and snapping it at the ground.
Red's eyes followed its path, the memory resurfacing whether he wanted it to or not. Hands clenching at his sides, he let out a steady breath, "I have a headstrong kid to get back to, so lets make this quick, yeah?"
"I aint makin no promises." The newsie smirked, "I gotcha right where I want ya, and im gonna have some fun."
"Listen to me, Whip." Karlof snapped, toe to toe with the large teen. "All you have to do is keep that redhead away from us, you hear me? We can do the rest, but by no means are you to let him go. If he gets back to Spot, it'll be your head!"
He planned to keep Red nice and busy. For as long as it took.
He liked his head where it was.
"What are you waiting for?" Red snapped, "I thought you were going to have some fun?"
The whip crackled and wrapped itself around the other's left arm, jerking him forward, right into the Queens newsie's fist, snapping his head back, something cracking as he staggered, barely able to move as a knee came up crashing into his stomach.
Spinning on his heels, Red's elbow slammed into his groin, the heel of his hand striking the younger man under the jaw, his fist slamming into his nose at the same moment. "Eat dat!"
Whip made a move to rush him, but the kick to his chest stopped that attempt, and as he rolled over, a booted foot crushed his wrist, pinning the whip to the ground. "Im in no mood ta play with trash like you." Red wiped some blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. "I've got an appointment wit ya boss."
"If he gets back to Spot, it'll be your head!"
Cursing, Whip's other arm came around Red's knees, jerking him off balance as he pulled the horse whip back, cracking it against his opponents legs, making him cry out in pain and fall on his butt, clutching at his bleeding legs in agony.
Getting to his feet, Whip brought his hand back, expecting it to end here, but Red had other plans. Despite the pain he felt he jumped forward, ducking under the blow and crashing into the other, tackling him to the ground again, rolling them both down the hill and into the water, his fist slamming into his jaw again and again.
"It'll be your head!"
His eyes wild, Whip's hand moved like a blur, the hard handle of his weapon slamming right against Red's temple, making him cry out and fall into the water with a splash, hands going to his ringing head as his vision blinked out.
"Spot..."
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"Dave!" Race cried, "Let him go ya sissies!" He tried to get past the ring of men around him, but all he got for that was a face full of elbows and a few punches at his stomach. He fell back with a curse, blood dripping from a cut on his forehead.
"Let him up now!" Denton cried, "You're killing him!"
David's eyes were closed as he gasped, hands clawing weakly at the wire, blood starting to drip down his throat and stain the collar of his shirt. He couldn't breathe! Was he going to die here after all? What would Jack say? Something about how he was weak, most likely, something about how he couldn't take care of himself-
"Come on, Davey, ya gonna let this thug take ya?"
Eyes shooting open, his mind went back on its own to his own 'training', or in other words, Jack watching as several older boys beat him within an inch of his life. It had been terrible, he had gotten soaked, no matter what he did or did not do.
"Ya have to feel the fight, Davey!" Jack told him as they were walking back to the safe-house for some bandages.
"I am feeling it!" David snapped. He was feeling it quite well, all over his body.
"No, no." The other frowned as he tried to put it in terms he would understand. "You have to feel it here." He touched the other's chest lightly, right above his heart. "You have to feel the fire, the desire to do what you had to do. When you're life is on the line, you'll know what I mean, but I hope you learn before that happens."
"I do too." He laughed along with his friend, "But I don't see how my life would ever be on the line with you, Mother, hanging over me like this."
If only he had known this would be happening a mere few weeks later. He might not have played it off, he might have taken Jack seriously. But now, it was too late. How was he supposed to get out of this one?
"When you're life is on the line, you'll know what I mean."
"I said stay back!" The wire jerked back against his neck, even as Denton tried to come forward again. It was then that David felt the anger, the rage. He wasn't going to die here! Not like this! He was going to be a big reporter with an office overlooking New York. He wasn't going to be another victim of the streets.
Snapping around, he dropped, legs sweeping out and knocking the man behind him to the ground even as he ducked to avoid the wire. It had barely cleared his head before he leapt to his feet, eyes burning as he pinned his attacker, fist held all the way back to strike.
But he didnt hit him.
Instead, David got to his feet, hand held out to the one on the ground. The kid looked at his hand then at his face, staring at the Manhattan newsie like he had just sprouted another head or some other unusual appendage.
"Ya see, Davey, I aint always right, either. Sometimes you have no choice but to fight, but there are some times when being the calm one is the better option."
"Are you saying there is something im better than you at?" He had meant it as a joke.
But Jack just looked at him with a stern expression. "Yeah, David. Thats exactly what im saying."
He was hoping to God Jack Kelly had been right. "I know that you're the Bronx kids Queens took over." He hadn't moved, hand still held out in offer, never wavering. "And I know you aren't too thrilled about it either."
"So? The Bronx doesn't exist any more. Queen's owns us now." The kid snarled, but there was something, something there in his eyes, and it was to that something David grabbed a hold of.
"Yeah? So you're going to just give up? Let them walk all over you instead of fightin' back?" His eyes flashed, "What kind of newsies are you? After all we've accomplished in the past, you're just going to roll over? You're a disgrace, Bronx is a disgrace!"
"Don't talk bout us like that!" One of the men around Mush yelled, "Bronx doesnt give up! We don't just roll over!"
"Then show me!" David yelled, turning a little to look over his shoulder. "All I see here are a bunch a sissies who let themselves get takin over without even a fight!"
"Why you little-" He snapped, taking two steps toward David, fury on his face.
"Quiet!" The leader snapped, gazing up at the other with new respect, "You're right, buddy. Maybe we have been a disgrace, maybe we did give up without a fight." His hand shot up and clasped David's as the latter pulled him to his feet. "But it'll end now. The name's Ace, leader of the Bronx."
"David, im just a Manhattan newsie."
Specs, who was leaning up against the carriage bit back a snicker, "Yeah right! This here is David "Mouth" Jacobs, co-leader of Manhattan and you better treat him with respect!"
Ace laughed, "That so? Well, David "Mouth" Jacobs, co-leader of Manhattan, Im going to give you something I rarely give to anyone."
"What is that?" He asked, their clasped hands falling as he ran a hand through his hair.
"An apology...And a request."
"Apology accepted." He frowned slightly, "And the request?"
"The Bronx would like ta fight with you. If you'd have us."
David paused, turning all the way around to look over his shoulder at his men. His eyes roamed over Dutchy and the rest of the Manhattan newsies arm in arm with their Brooklyn brothers. "Well? What do you say?"
"HECK YEAH!" The group cried, cheering and whistling as David and Ace spit sealed it. They had gotten themselves another group of newsies that would help to, if not completely topple the scales. They would be out of here with their missing friends in no time.
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-whistle- heh, I updated again for you guys cause im a nice person. So...reviews? Pwease? -puppy dog eyes-