At sundown, newsies from every borough crammed into Irving Hall. Fawkes had never seen the place so packed. Each group had a sign proclaiming their origin. Jack and Spot were on stage trying to calm the crowd. Brooklyn was stage left. Some of the boys Fawkes knew from Manhattan were in a box seat above stage right. There were too many of them. Kid Blink was hanging from the box like an ape. She shook her head when she saw him. Others were where the pit crew should have been. There was not an empty seat in the house.

This rally was a good idea. There were a lot of newsies. Folks would have to notice their numbers now.

Fawkes popped out from the wings and they got the ball rolling.

Jack started the thing off with some words. "I wanted to thank you all for coming out!"

The audience settled down.

"Take a look around. See how full this place is. There's a lot of us in this fight. Our rally is gonna show those newspaper owners that we're serious and there's a lot of us they're going up against. That being said, now that they'll be taking us seriously, I see life getting a lot harder. The bright side, is that there's a lot of people who've got your back if you need help. Fox here stood against Pulitzer's thugs when no one else would. Brooklyn saw and respected that, which is why they joined the fight."

Fawkes nodded her thanks to Spot and his boys.

Spot was wearing what he always did, red suspenders, and a dirty shirt. But his hair was slicked back and his shoes looked shined. He didn't quite grin in response, but Fawkes could tell that he was pleased. Other boys were dressed to the nines. This was a special occasion.

Somebody shouted something from the mezzanine that started a rumble in the crowd.

"You're right!" Spot shouted. It was a statement cause enough to shock everyone into silence.

Fawkes made a face at him. How was it possible he had heard the kid? She hadn't.

"Soaking the scabs doesn't give us a good reputation. It's either proof that we're kids, or a union. If there's any other way to prove to the world that we're serious, I'd love to hear it. Fists is what we Brookies know. It's what gets the job done. The thugs they brought to the World's circulation center would only listen to violence, not reason. We fight our battles as they come to us in various forms. As underdogs, they think if they stomp on us enough times, we'll go away. We have to fight back to show them that is not how it's going to be."

Some more eloquent words were said, but Fawkes tuned them out. She didn't say anything because she was saving her voice for her act. Which was coming up soon.

Spot and Jack sidled off to the side as some newsies prepped the stage.

Fawkes flew to her dressing room to pull on a dress and affix her wig.

She sashayed back to the stage to hoots, hollers, and whistles of her peers. She was wearing a black dress trimmed with gold. She was uncomfortable, but it was because she hadn't bothered to take off her street clothes underneath.

"Let us pause in life's pleasures and count its many tears,

While we all sup sorrow with the poor;

There's a song that will linger forever in our ears;

Oh! Hard times come again no more…"

The newsies joined in on the chorus and carried the girl through all the verses. They cheered, and whistled, and catcalled. Fawkes gladly cleared the stage for Medda's more upbeat tune that would follow.

Newsies crowded the backstage. Jack was in the wings. When he stepped up, all the other boys backed off. Fawkes grinned.

"I saw Snyder slip in. I don't think he's going to make a move until he sees one or both of us."

"Don't let that stop you from having fun," Fawkes remarked.

"What song are you gonna sing next?" Spot wanted to know

"It's a toss-up between Black Velvet Band, Courtin' in the Kitchen, or the Rocky Road to Dublin."

"Are you sure you want to go Irish, knowing Mackey's out there?"

"They're the only upbeat tunes I've got. I don't think Sidewalks of New York will make everyone as reckless."

Jack grinned, "So you're planning on making chaos."

"Of course. Because you're going to come out of hiding and dance. I know you too well."

Spot clearly objected.

"I'm going Irish because I'm counting on the Brookies to get rowdy and flood the stage."

Spot nodded his acceptance that the situation was beyond his control. "Courtin' in the kitchen. I think Mackey'll like that one."

Fawkes nodded. It did have a nice chorus.

She marched back onto the stage as Medda exited and began her song:

"Come single belle and beau and to me pay attention,

Don't ever fall in love it's the devil's own invention.

For once I fell in love with a maiden so bewitchin'

Miss Henrietta Bell down in Captain Kelly's Kitchen…"

You would have thought every boy in the Brooklyn crew was either being murdered, or killing a man. They let out a series of bellows and shouts that nearly drowned out any sound Fawkes made after the first line. They jumped onto the stage and immediately began dancing and singing.

Jack, being Irish, was also drawn to the stage.

That was when Snyder made his move. A whistle blew and was echoed by another. From the sounds of it, they had all the exits covered.

Fawkes stood tall and carried on singing. The Brookies proved they didn't give a damn and kept on singing and jigging as well.

When Fawkes finished her song, she clocked the closest cop and ran. She'd already seen Race dragged off and Kid Blink fail to get through the front door from her position on stage. The Brookies had made a good show of combining singing, dancing, and brawling. She didn't know why she was surprised. Those were really the only three things the Irish were good at. No, that was a lie. They could drink too. And work hard.

The cops backstage couldn't seem to decide whether they should let her go about her business or drag her in with the rest of the riff raff. After she punched the cop that was sneaking up on Spot, they decided to classify her as a threat. She pushed out of their holds. More than one newsie was willing to make sure she got safely out of harm's way. It was probably because she looked like a proper lady.

She was thankful for their assistance and was able to sneak to her dressing room with their help.

Jack was there.

"Nice work. Now, how we getting out of here?" He asked.

Fawkes grinned and slipped out of the dress. She'd found an old cop uniform earlier that day among the props. She planned to wear it and walk Jack out. Simple as that. She was buttoning the coat when a knock sounded on the door.

"Open up!"

Thinking quick, Fawkes socked Jack.

The door burst open as Jack slumped to the floor.

"This one was giving me some trouble," she grumbled as she hoisted him to his feet. She hadn't meant to knock him out, just make it look like he was putting up a fight. It wouldn't look good for him to come too willingly.

A police officer helped to drag Jack out.

Fawkes stuffed him into a wagon full of newsies. She climbed up into the front seat as they cursed her out and grabbed hold of the reins. "Hold on," she warned them.

The horses started walking and Fawkes did her best not to get impatient. When they rounded a corner, she urged them into a gallop.

She heard hooves and whistles in the distance.

In a side alley, Fawkes unloaded the cart. The newsies were confused, as they should have been, but as soon as their feet touched cobblestone they set off at a run and didn't look back.

She was wrestling Jack's prone body out, congratulating herself on actually getting away with it when she heard a horse whinny. Too close.

The world went black and her body collapsed under the weight of Jack's.