Spot sat on his usual perch and looked out over Brooklyn...HIS Brooklyn. At least thats how he always thought about it...sitting on top of the large pile of crates on the dock, he could see a good distance away. Thats how he saw them coming. A group of people he'd never seen before were headed his way, and they were walking slowly, but with a definite purpose.
"Spot!! Spot!!" shouted Tack, as he came running from the same general direction as the group of people.
"Whats wrong?" asked Spot, his guard instantly up as soon as he saw the panicked look on Tack's face.
"They-they-they-Billy" was all that poor Tack could manage
"What ABOUT Billy?" asked Spot impatiently "Where is he?"
"Pop and Chicken-they" he took a deep breath "Hospital" He tried again "Pop and Chicken took'em to the hospital...they got him! Cut'em up real good Spot! He was bleedin an awful lot"
"Who did?!" Asked Spot jumping up and almost falling off the stack of crates he was sitting on
"I-I dunno! There was a lot of them, they only got after Billy. We might coulda took'em, but they had knives. There wasn't no way!!! And they cut up Billy, and told me ta come tell you they was coming ta talk, de're right behind me Spot!! Dey'll be here in a minute!!..and-and-they got knives, and they'll use'em too!!"
"Yeah, I know, ya told me" stated Spot grimly, "Listen Tack, go back to the house and get everyone over heah fast, tell'em I said ta get over heah NOW!" said Spot. He knew the Lodging House was only 2 minutes away, and it wouldn't take long for everyone to get there...possibly even before the group coming towards the dock arrived.
Spot was standing there waiting for them, when everyone arrived. Brooklyn's newsies arrived about twenty seconds before the other rather formidable looking group did. About fifty of the 200 plus Brooklyn Newsies had been at the Lodging House, so about fifty newsies came running, ready to fight.
Striker, Spots unofficial second in command raced up beside him. "Spot! What happened? Tack said dere wasn't time ta splain!!"
"Some thugs cut up Billy pretty bad, and dey're comin ta...talk" said Spot, clearly not believeing there was going to be much talking.
"Billy!!!!" said Striker shocked "Billy's only eleven!!! Why'd they wanna hurt him?!?!"
"I dunno" said Spot coldly, "but we're gonna find out, thats for sure."
"He ok?"asked Striker
"Dunno dat either" said Spot, his fists tightening "But Tack said it was pretty bad. Lotta blood" Spot then fell silent, and motioned to Striker. They walked out to meet the group of about twelve people in front of them.
A large boy, probably about eighteen or nineteen, with black hair, stepped away from the group and moved towards Spot and Striker. Strikers hand flew to grab the knife from his belt, but Spot put a hand on his arm, stopping him. "Not yet" he said under his breath.
"You Spot?" asked the boy, not wasting any time.
"Could be" he replied, "Depends, who are you?" he asked
"Thats not important" said the boy calmly, with no trace of an accent of any sort "Just know this, your territory is now ours, Leave Brooklyn in the next 24 hours, or you have a war on your hands" he turned to go, and Striker lunged at him, ripping out his knife, and swinging it in a wide arc. In one smoothe motion, the boy turned around and delivered a solid punch to his jaw, enough to knock Striker to the ground, stunned. He looked at Striker on the ground and smirked "You fight with us, more will get hurt...or worse"
"Whats your problem?" asked Spot quietly, "Are you newsies? Do ya need da space ta sell papes?" he asked as he helped Striker up.
"Papers?" snorted the boy, "No, we have more profitable....venues in mind" and with that the group left, with all Brooklyn's newsies, stunned in their wake.
Later that night a group of newsies came bursting into the Lodging house "Spot are we leavin or what?!?!" asked the more foward one of the group "Ain't none of us looking foward to gettin cut up like Billy. We just got back from the hospital, and hes a mess!!! So what are we doin Spot?"
Spot looked up from the paper he was reading and sighed. "I don't get it, dey don't need da territory fa papers, and I really don't think ta dem, its personal."
"Whadday mean it ain't personal!?!" yelled the leader of the group...dey almost KILLED Billy, how much more personal can ya get?"
"Stop yellin" snapped Spot "course its personal ta us, I said ta dem. Dey don't seem ta have any sort of personal vendetta fa anyone."
"Well, it don't matta none ta me, why dey did it, all I know is I don't want'em doin it ta me"
"We ain't goin nowhere, we're gonna fight if we gotta, da whole of us against a dozen or so of dem ain't even no contest. Besides that, we don't know deyre gonna try and back up what dey said"
Another boy from the other group stepped foward and shifted feet uncomfortably. "Scuse me Spot, um-see-well-"
"Hurry up wit it, I ain't got all night kid!"
"Word on da street is...well...deys serious. My sister used ta date one of dey're guys. Said its a gang, dangerous, deyre leader he been in jail for a while. Not da refuge, REAL jail. She said they're serious and they're dangerous, and ta stay away from dem. She said they probably wanna run some burglary ring outta dis house. It used to be a wearhouse, got a lotta da old equipment, and dey can use it for repackaging or something. Dey're not worried bout us in Brooklyn in and of itself, dey want da house, and dey're afraid if we stay in Brooklyn, people are gonna be pryin an wonderin why we moved. So dey're serious bout wantin us out, and dey're serious bout hurtin people to get what dey want."