Disclaimer: I don't claim ownership over any of the characters in this story, besides Chaos and the other names of Brooklyn newsies that you don't recognize from the movie. Everyone else from "Newsies" belongsDisney.

Hey guys :D I'm back with another story! Another newsies fanfic, of course. What is this, like number 6? Woah... I need a life.

Okay. So from what I've heard from people, this story is really different from the other ones I've written. But whatever, I'll let you be the judge of that.

There's a few downsides to this story: This is the story that I'm currently working on. All the others that I've posted previously, they were either done or very close to being done. However, this one's not even close so I'm going to be posting as I write, which means they won't be out very fast... Sorry, guys :( I'm thinking maybe I'll post one every three days (more if I can write fast enough).

Alright, just one more thing and we'll start this. The quote below, just read it and keep it in mind. It's got a lot to do with the story.

--START--

"My only love sprung from my only hate,
Too early seen unknown, and known too late.
Prodigious birth of love it is to me,
That I must love a loathed enemy."

-Romeo and Juliet- William Shakespeare

.-:-.-:-.

As far as I was concerned, guys had all the fun. For them, they didn't have to worry about uncomfortable, suffocating dresses or endless housework. Sitting alone in my room reading a novel in my free time wasn't my cup of tea.

On that note, sipping tea while being all ladylike didn't amuse me, either. "Two sugars, please" or "Pass the milk, thank you" or "Oh, I'm quite fine, and yourself?". Ugh. I hated tea and I hated manners.

That's why I was a teenage runaway. If you fended for yourself on the streets of New York City in 1900, you were free to do whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted. The only one thing in your way of complete freedom was the bulls. But they were easy enough to run from.

.-:-.-:-.

Hands in pockets of the boys' pants I was dressed in, I walked leisurely down the streets of Manhattan, whistling a tune to myself. I avoided the hectic roads that were bustling with people. I'd much rather walk by myself towards my undecided destination, weaving through the maze of side streets and alleys.

As I wandered past an alleyway, my ears perked up when I heard struggling and the sound of trash cans toppling over. I retraced a few steps backwards and peered inside. A fist fight was just about to begin. It was three against one.

The three huge thugs were closing in on their prey: a newsboy around the age of 16, but who definitely wasn't the largest in his age group. "Maybe... ya should jus' empty yer pockets now... befoah we'se starts to get angry." One of them warned the newsie, shuffling even closer to the helpless kid.

I could tell that the three attackers were drunk by the way they slurred their words and stumbled around. Besides, why else would they be stupid enough to attack someone in broad daylight?

"Maybe... " I mocked the thug's words from the opening of the alley, making my presence known. "Ya should all grow a backbone and pick on someone who ain't one fourth your size. Or are ya afraid ya may lose?" My voice was certain and strong. The adrenalin started to rush through my body when all four of them turned to look at me, but I kept the same confident smirk on my face.

"I think dat goil jus' insulted us." One of them sneered, staring daggers at me. "Nuttin' gets past you, does it?" I replied sarcastically, my mouth forming into a scornful grin. The voice of reason inside me told me over and over again that I was asking to get my ass kicked, but I continued to run my mouth off. The thugs weren't much older than me. Maybe by a couple of years, but man, were they big.

Nothing wrong with trying to make a fight somewhat fair. The kid needs help, and I'm not just gonna leave him here to get mugged and beat up. Besides, I'm already too far involved to turn back now.

The smallest of the three began advancing towards me, but I kept my ground. "Oh, you'se aksin' for it, little missy. I'se gonna teach ya to keep your mouth shut 'nd your nose outta udder people's business." He growled.

I stood still as he grabbed the neck of my shirt and clenched his fist around it, dragging me up to his eyelevel. The tips of my shoes just barely touched the ground. Just stall long enough to get the kid out of here... Don't get yourself in further danger than you have to. I told myself.

He brought me so close to his face that I could smell the alcohol off his breath. "Ready to learn your lesson?" He muttered threateningly. My grin widened. "Teach away." I replied before spitting directly in his face. He loosened his grip on me for a split second, long enough for me to knee him hard in the stomach.

As he fell to the ground, clutching his stomach, I was able to dart past him further into the alleyway. The other two blocked both my methods of getting away: The opening to the street and the fire escape ladder at the far end of the alley.

I looked in all directions, searching for another opportunity to stall for time. As I turned my head, one of them punched me square in the jaw. I stumbled up against the wall where the newsie was still trapped.

"Are ya crazy!?" He whispered. "Ya jus' willingly put yourself into da middle of a fight dat we'se gonna lose." The newsie told me. I put my hand up to my mouth to readjust my jaw, ignoring the blood caused by my teeth knocking into my cheek.

"It's not losin' if ya can get away." I whispered out of the side of my mouth. The two attackers that were on their feet were lurking closer to us, closing us both in like caged animals.

"Follow my lead." I whispered. We inched away from the wall, back to back so we were each facing one of the other guys. They looked over our heads and one nodded at the other, as if to say "Go in for the kill."

"On da count of three..." I muttered through gritted teeth, hoping that the newsie could hear me and the thugs couldn't. No time for that. They were already running full speed towards us. "THREE!" I yelled.

Both the boy and I darted in different directions, causing the two of them to collide head on. If their reflexes hadn't been slowed by the alcohol, we'd have been dead meat by now.

They toppled to the ground and one of the attackers began to yell in aggravation. He pulled a pocket knife from the back of his belt and flipped it open as he struggled to get to his feet.

A shrill whistle cut through the air, causing all of us to look towards the alleyway entrance. They sounded pretty far off, but were getting closer by the second. "Somebody called da bulls..." The newsie mumbled, his eyes widening. We glanced at each other and ran for the street opening, both hurtling over the third attacker who was still curled up holding his stomach.

"Let's split. Cheese it!" I instructed when we were back out on the street. He turned to go one way and I turned to go the other. "Nice meetin' ya. Da names Chaos." I called over my shoulder without slowing my sprint. "Jake." He replied, his voice fading as he ran the other way. "'nd thanks!" Jake added.

.-:-.-:-.

I could hear the cops' whistles getting closer and closer until I could hear their voices, too. They had just turned the corner and seen me running down the street. The fresh bruise starting to form on the side of my face was a dead giveaway that I had been involved in the fight.

"That one! She's getting away!" one policeman yelled, pointing at me. "Hey, you! Stop right where you are! Get her!" another shouted. Soon enough, two or three policemen were right on my tail. I made the mistake of turning around to see how close they were, and they all got a clear look at my face.

Dammit, Chaos... Look what you did now. Now they all know what you look like. I scolded myself, running faster and faster on the cobblestone. I headed for the busiest street I could think of near my current location. It would be easy to lose the cops in a crowd of people near the market stands. Lucky for me, it was a cloudless summer day so everyone would be out wandering the city.

I dashed out of one of the side streets and into a horde of passing people. Glancing both ways, I quickly took off running again.

Pushing my way through gaps between the crowds, I sprinted as fast as my legs allowed. The thrill of adrenaline still pumped through my body, making me feel like I had endless energy. I loved that rush. My braided hair blew over my shoulders as I ran, trailing after me.

The sound of the whistles started to get fainter the further I went. I suddenly collided with someone, nearly losing my balance. The tall person turned and looked down at me from underneath the brim of a cowboy hat. His eyes wandered down to the shiner on my chin and his mouth twisted into a grin. "So you're da trouble maker dey're lookin' for." He thought out loud. "Huh... I assumed you'd be a guy. Not too often a goil starts a fist fight."

"I didn't start nuttin'." I responded. "Now if you'se excuse me, I'd ratha' not spend da night in da refuge." I attempted to push past him, but he grabbed my wrist. "C'mon." he muttered simply, pulling me in the direction of the apartment buildings.

"What da hell are ya doin'?!" I yelled as he continued to drag me through the crowd. I wasn't exactly the tallest girl you'd ever meet. Far from it, actually. The long strides he took while he ran were no match for my small legs, so I scrambled behind him and tried not to lose my footing.

"Ya said ya didn't want to end up in da refuge tonight..." He called over his shoulder. "So I'se givin' ya some help." He explained. I nearly tripped over the curb as he pulled me off the sidewalk and across the street. "Da only thing you'se givin' me is bruises on me wrist, buddy." I called back angrily. Knowing that I'd take off in another direction if he let go, he refused to loosen his grip on my arm.

He hastily dragged me up to a building and threw open the front door. "Hey Kloppman... Do me a favor 'nd cover for us if da bulls come by heah, a'right? Thanks!" The boy called to an old man sitting behind a desk. He looked up from a book and, over the rims of his glasses, saw us dash across the wooden floor towards the staircase. "Kelly, dis is da second time dis month you'se brought a criminal in heah to escape da police! And you'se expect me to cover up your lies again!? Well, I ain't gonna d-" The old man yelled.

"Thanks, Kloppman!" The boy repeated, cutting him off. "Kloppman" sighed and returned picked up his book again. "A'right, a'right... fine." He muttered.

He sprinted up the stairs with me in tow and shoved me into a room at the top, shutting the door quickly behind him. I leaned over, placing my hands on my knees. "What... Da hell... is ya tryin'... to do..." I asked between gasps for air. He slid down to the floor and sat against the door. Letting his head drop backwards, he closed his eyes. His chest heaved up and down as he tried to catch his breath.

I irritably observed the finger-print marks on my wrist as I waited for him to talk. Finally catching his breath, he looked up at me. "I jus' did ya a favor. Last time I checked, dat deserves a 'thank you'."

I raised my eyebrow at him. "Yeah, well last time I checked, Kelly's a goil's name. But ya don't see me complainin'." I replied, repreating what the old guy downstairs had called him. He narrowed his eyes at me.

"For your information, me names Jack Kelly. 'nd I don't know why you'se bein' so nasty to me, because I'se jus' tryin' to help ya out."

Jack Kelly... Something about that name wrung a bell. I turned away from him and looked around the room we were in. It was filled with bunk beds from one wall to the opposite wall. Clothes and other possessions were scattered around the floor, as well as tossed over bed posts and hooks on the walls. I realized we were in a newsboy's lodging house.

Then it clicked. Newsboys. Jack Kelly. The 1899 Newsboys Strike. I crossed my arms and smirked, although he couldn't see me because my back was turned to him. "So you'se da famous strike leader, huh?" I asked, turning to face him.

He shrugged and grinned, placing his hands behind his head. "Yep. Dat would be me." He replied proudly. "Last article I read 'bout ya, you was on your to Santa Fe... I'm guessin' dat didn't woik out for ya so well, since you'se still heah attemptin' to help someone who don't want your help in fa foist place." I replied in response to his arrogance.

"Yeah, well... Jus' goes to show ya can't believe everythin' ya read." Jack said. I opened my mouth to reply, but he hushed me and pressed his ear to the door.

"I can assure ya officer... all da newsies are out on deir routes at dis hour." Kloppman's voice came loudly from downstairs. He was attempting to give us a heads-up, warning us that the bulls were there and they were planning to come upstairs.

"Oh, am I talkin' loudly? See, I didn't realize... I'se deaf in one ear, so it's hard to tell..." Kloppman lied, trying to cover up for the fact that he was practically screaming.

"Crap... We'se gotta get ya outta heah." Jack whispered. This time, I didn't object. "You know how to get to Brooklyn from heah?" He asked. I shook my head from side to side. I normally just stayed in Manhattan, so I didn't know my way around the other parts of the city.

He sighed. "A'right... Follow me." He whispered, leading me towards the windows. He slid one open and ushered me out onto the fire escape. We quickly climbed down the ladder and around towards the front of the building.

"Blink..." he whispered to himself, averting his attention towards the street. "Uh...'scuse me?" I asked. He hushed me again and waited with his back against the wall. When a boy about my age passed by, he hastily grabbed him and pulled him to the side of the lodging house.

The boy put his hand over his heart and breathed heavily when he saw that it was Jack. "Jeez, Jack! Don't do dat to me... Now ain't da time for secret agent, a'right? I'se gotta get to Tibby's..." Jack ignored his statement.

"Blink, I need ya to do somethin', 'nd it's real important." Jack said. The boy skeptically looked from me, back to Jack, waiting for the task. "I need ya to bring dis goil to Brooklyn."

The kid's eyes widened. "Spot Conlon's territory...? I dunno, Cowboy..." He said cautiously. Jack shook him by the shoulders. "Come on, Blink. Da bulls are afta' her. Jus' tell Spot dat I sent her dere, okay?"

"Aww, why can't you jus' go? Spot... Spot don't really like me much, ya know?" He argued. "I gotta take care of stuff heah. Da cops a'ready assume da newsies started some fight, 'nd I gotta make shoah dey don't accuse any of me boys."

He sighed and nodded slowly, indicating that he would do it. "Great!" Jack exclaimed in a whisper. "Dis is Kid Blink... Blink, dis is..." He tilted his head to the side and stared at me as he realized he didn't know my name. "I don't know who she is, but you'se got plenty of time to find out on da walk to Brooklyn. Now get movin' before da cop comes out 'nd sees ya."

Jack pulled Kid Blink closer, lowering his voice even more. "'nd watch her, a'right? Dis one's a handful..." He warned, assuming I couldn't hear him.

.-:-.-:-.

So any opinions so far? Please review :)

Thanks for reading.