Bang, bang.

Two simple shots fired, they said. Simple cannot possibly describe a gunshot. What could seduce a man to pull the trigger of a gun on another human being? To be breathing heavily, fumbling with the trigger until a small click can be heard, then pulled back abruptly with calloused, heavy fingers. Bang. One shot, reload your old, rusting gun. With luck the barrel will blow off and kill you too. Bang. The shock is so bad that you nearly drop the gun. Swearing, you stare at the body twitching on the ground.

I was there. For God's sakes, they had to do it in front of me. Blink didn't mean to do nothing, honest. The Delancey brothers are ruthless, they are. I had just finished selling my papes and Blink had two more to go, so I went to help him finish up. I was telling an elderly lady about the awful pain in my foot and the fact that I had an incurable disease when I heard the first sounds of commotion behind me.

The lady left, glancing at the headlines of the pape I had just sold to her. I pocketed her money, wondering what in Hell Blink could be making so much noise over. He wasn't in his usual selling spot, and his last pape was on the ground, trampled over with muddy feet. None of the newsies can afford to have our merchandise on the ground. We'll starve if we can't sell.

"Ya've looked at 'er the wrong way too many times, ya little fucker," A voice hissed. I started, recognizing the voice of that no good, dirty rotten scabber, Morris. Where was it coming from? The street was amazingly empty.

"She jus' can't stand t' look at you, Morris. It ain't yer fault you was born wit' that face!" Now I could really hear the sounds of a fight. Blink never knew how to keep his mouth shut when he needed to. It sounded like he was being punched. The dirty Delanceys always fought in a pack of two, and only when the odds were better for them. One would hold the arms of whoever they were tormenting, and the other would punch, sometimes with brass knuckles. Those lousy scabbers always broke the code of honor of the streets. The code said flesh against flesh only- scrapes using fists and other body parts were okay. Any outside weapons were seen as cowardly, 'cept of course for the slingshots Brooklyn used, and Conlon's cane. Then again, Brooklyn's a rougher neighborhood. They probably need weapons more than we do.

Where were they fighting? I ran frantically in a ragged circle, from one alley to the next. Finally I found it. I had been right- both Oscar and Morris were there. I had told Blink to stop flirting with Morris's girl, honest I had. But Blink don't listen to no one with common sense.

I took the two by surprise. Oscar's back was to me, and I could see my best friend struggling against his burly arms. That stupid bowler hat that Oscar always wore was perched on his head. I dove for Oscar, jumping on his back and shoving the hat forwards to cup the ugly scabber's face. Oscar released Blink, and caught the punch that Morris had aimed right in the stomach, knuckle busters and all. I jabbed my knee into the back of Oscar's, using the taller man as a shield. Blink was in worse condition than I'd thought- he couldn't move for several long moments once he'd fallen. He finally stood up, one arm pressed tightly against his gut and gasping for air like a fish taken out of a tank by the butcher. His patch had slipped upwards during the struggle, mussing his hair. Both of his eyes had been punched, but his blind one looked terrible. The nasty scar that ran across his eye had broken open. Blink could hardly see for the blood. His other hand cupped his eye, ignoring the blood that ran from his cut face where the brass knuckles had sliced into his flesh.

Oscar fell down as my knees pushed inward. I took the opportunity to kick the bastard in the balls- not that he had any, of course. Morris completely ignored his suffering brother and tried to swing at me. I ducked, sidestepping the fallen body of Oscar as the man writhed on the ground. The Delanceys might have been bigger than most of the newsies, but we were faster on our feet and quicker thinkers. Morris needed someone to hold a body for him while he pummeled it for all he was worth. I desperately played a game of keep away, trying to figure out my odds. Blink wasn't looking so good right now. He could help me fight, but it would probably hurt him more than it would hurt Morris. Morris was bigger and heavier than me, with brass knuckles. There was also the possibility that Oscar would be up very shortly.

I was good as dead.

I attempted to jab at the ugly mutt's face, and was just as surprised as Morris when my fist connected with his nose. The satisfying crack assured me that it was causing him quite a lot of pain. Blood streaming into his mouth from his nose, Morris's attacks became reinvigorated.

"Blink!" I gasped as Morris grabbed one of my arms tightly and smacked me on the chest with a blow, "Get...Jack! Anyone!"

I tried to knee Morris, but the bastard was ready for that. He cracked me on the chin, with a blow aimed upwards that nearly took my head off. Dizzied, I dodged away from him. He was having a lot of trouble hitting a moving target. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Blink stagger away from the alley, faintly calling for help. I had to make time for my friends to come and help me out.

Well, if Morris could fight with brass knuckles, then I could fight unfairly as well. The alley was full of wooden boxes, mostly wet from the afternoon's rain. One was falling apart, so I darted to it and tried to wrench away one of the damp planks. I was nearly successful, but saw Morris aiming for me and managed to have his blow glance off of my good shoulder. I leaned down quickly again, stepping hard with one foot as I used all my strength to wrench upward with the other. I pulled so hard at the loose plank that I swung it up, connecting with Morris's arm. The two rusting nails at the end of the board sank into his flesh. I yanked it out, feeling sickened as I saw the blood and heard his agonized scream. I wasn't following the unspoken newsie code.

But I could remember what the bastards had done to Blink. Reinvigorated by the memory, I began my attack in earnest again. Morris was using both his fists now, wild blows that hurt much more from his right side than the left. I remembered Oscar, but the scabber had crawled away from his dirty spot on the ground. He had probably gone home, leaving his brother to fight. He was just like that.

"As soon...as I get ya....yer off t' the Refuge!" Morris spat, connecting hard with the side of my face. I staggered away, blinded with pain. He came at me again, mercilessly pounding me with blows. I desperately swung the board, clipping his shoulder with the nail side. I tried aiming for his weaker arm, smashing it as hard as I could, though a lot of my strength was already spent.

"You jus' try, you rotten bummer," I snarled, finally lowering myself to trading insults and threats with this beast of a man. How long had we been fighting for? Seconds? Minutes? Hours? Time seemed to come to a standstill, the horrible sounds of our grunting and swearing and pained cries littering the air. Where had Blink gone? Was he going to be able to find me help?

This time, when Morris cracked me one in the stomach, I fell to my knees. I struggled to stand, swinging upwards with the wood and connecting with his face again. His already bloody nose caused him to cry out in pain, until I saw what had happened. The two nails had hooked into his cheek.

Not only was I fighting with a board, it had to be one with nails. I was sickened by what I was doing. Just then I heard angry shouts at the entrance of the alleyway. Blink! He'd made it!

The moment we saw Blink, his blond hair flapping, limping in with a murderous looking Jack and nearly rabid Davey, Morris knew he was done for. Les wasn't with them- absurd as the thought was, I wondered where the kid had gone off to. Morris threw me to the ground defiantly, edging away from the newly arrived group.

Jack hauled me up by my shirt, examining my face with a surprising gentleness as Davey and Blink watched Morris. We had won. Once again, the newsies were victorious!

Tweet, tweet.

"The bulls!" Jack was the first to cry. I remembered that Oscar had managed to disappear. How had I been stupid enough to not realize the first place he would go?

"You lousy scabbers!" I screamed at Morris, who was cradling his bloody face and grinning. I had been worried about breaking the newsie code, while that fucker broke every rule in the book. Calling on the bulls to fight when he was too cowardly to end something, using weapons...if I hadn't hated him so much already, I would have loathed him even more.

It was too much for Blink. Strengthened by his hatred of the Delanceys and what they had inflicted on me and him, and probably by the knowledge that he was destined for the Refuge after this incident, he pounced on Morris. He punched the man, again and again, knocking the Delancey to his back. He dove, aiming for Morris's stomach, pinning the bigger man with his knees and weight, ignoring the blows that were being returned as he pummeled Morris's face into a bloody pulp. As much as Morris deserved it, it made me sick.

"Blink, stop!" I screamed in horror. Jack and Davey had already gone over to hold him back. Suddenly the bulls were everywhere, little parasites that would dig into your flesh and make you hurt for all of eternity. They had sticks. I recall several blows, even after I had been thrown to the ground and no longer had the ability to stand. Jack fought bravely, and Blink ignored their attempts to pry him off of Morris.

Once he'd thrown in many punches after Morris had fallen unconscious, Blink stood, his face and body bloody. My heart tells me he knew what was going to happen. He looked at me, not at anyone else. Not Jack, or Davey, but me, and he laughed. The sound was eery in the suddenly silent air.

Bang. The shot caught him on his leg. He tried to bite down a scream, but he was in terrible condition already and the pain was too much. He roared with pain, and I hid my face against the sight of the exploding blood. The coward bull who'd shot had missed, causing Blink to suffer. The bull shot again, and this time he didn't miss.

Blink was dead.

His body was sprawled on the ground, unrecognizable. His blond hair was thickly matted with blood, his eyepatch slipped off, his face and body mangled. He looked like raw meat in some parts, I remember. Jack tried to strangle the bull who had shot Blink, but the police were too fast. Davey was yelling, "We're just kids! You can't kill us! He didn't do anything to you!" I could see on the faces of several of the bulls that Davey's words struck them deep. The Walking Mouth once again bit harder with words than any of us could with fighting.

We had been soaked, badly. I had the satisfaction of knowing how terrible Morris looked, but Oscar's triumphant sneer as I was dragged past made me sick. David, Jack, and I were all thrown into a police carriage. People crowded around, trying to see who we were.

Racetrack was in the crowd, selling papes. "Get his body, Race!" I screamed, clinging to the bars.

"Mush?" Racetrack gaped, elbowing his way up to the carriage and running alongside it, papes propped against his shoulder. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Blink's dead! Blink..is...dead..." I trailed off, finally crumpling in my seat. I saw Jack throw himself against the bars, clinging to them to keep himself upright as he spoke with Racetrack. He figured we'd get a year or so in the Refuge, maybe even less. Davey came over and was saying something to me, but I can't remember what it was. I had sunken into a black mood, where I could feel no pain, only hatred.

So as I sit here, staring at the dank walls of my tiny cell, I can dwell on my hatred. I have nothing to do. Every day blends into the next. I have one thing to do, one thing only...plot how to kill Morris and Oscar. I don't know where Jack and David are. Despite the fact that the Delanceys began the fight, I got five months in the Refuge. Jack and Davey got three. Blink got death. But you can't let it beat you.

Oh no, you can't let it beat you.