Free Companies Inc. Presents:

Brooklyn

A Newsies fic by Keza: Queen of Procrastination

AN: Yeah, it's a bad title. I couldn't think of anything else! Most of the characters featured are original. There is no self-insertion. There are no Mary Sues (no matter what first impression you get on some of the characters, I promise, NO Mart Sues!). Review, cause it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Plus I need feedback! I haven't written anything serious for awhile. And suggest a title if you'd like.

AN2: Alrighty… Pasty Grimaldi's is an actual pizza place under the Brooklyn Bridge. However, it didn't exist until the mid 1900s. But in my fanfiction world? It existed in 1899. So there. (To make up for this little problem, I'll offer some free advertising. If you're ever in Brooklyn, you MUST go there for pizza! It is the best I have ever had. Classic, original NY pizza. Amazing. End advertisement.)

+

Dawn broke into a thousand jagged pieces, blood red and soft pink mingling to surround an unearthly orange. Peter Morstal sat alone on the docks of the Hudson River, his calloused feet dangling carefree over the edge of the rough planks. Deft hands worked with a bit of wood and a small knife, a tiny figure slowly taking shape. The boy stopped working for a moment and gazed silently at the sunrise, the Brooklyn Bridge blotting out most of the view. The colors were reflected dully in the river's water, distorted by small breakers. The boy looked at his own reflection in the water, face void of emotion. Uneven black hair nearly covered sad brown eyes. An easily seen scar ran down the left side of his face, drawing his lip up into a permanent sneer. A few bruises and a lot of dirt completed the picture.

He pocketed the knife and rose, throwing the sculpted wood at a stray seagull. The gull ducked easily aside and mocked him as it too rose into the air and glided out to find a safer perch. The boy shoved grimy hands into grimier pockets and strode confidently out of the maze of docks, dodging a rope here, jumping over a crate there. He made his way to a broken down building and stopped near the door, splashing his face with cool water from a trough against the wall. The door hung open, barely attached by its hinges. Numerous teenage and younger boys were shuffling out sleepily, yesterday's dust and dirt still plastered to their face and hair. The Brooklyn Newsies' Lodging House. Home sweet home, for some.

"Ruin."

"Mercy. Ore."

"Heya Ruin! How's it rollin'?" Ore flashed a dazzling smile, quite in contrast to his dark skin. Mercy grumbled something about early risers, which was ignored.

"Alright, Ore. Nice sunrise."

"I'll bet," Mercy muttered and stalked off. Ore shrugged and dunked his whole head into the trough.

"Whoooo! That's a bit chilly!" he screeched, sputtering water and shaking his dreadlocks furiously. Ruin smiled weakly at the boy's antics and slapped him on the back as he wandered off to Brooklyn's distribution building.

As usual, Spot Conlon was already present at the gates, leaning against the sturdy bars and arguing with a short, auburn-haired girl.

"I don't have any money to spare for you!" Spot was saying.

"And I know for a fact that you won a bet last night and have plenty!" the girl shouted back.

"You never sell papes! Why would you want to now?"

"How is that any of your business? All I'm asking for is a loan!" Spot was obviously embarrassed about the conversation developing into a public spectacle.

"Beth…"

"Uh oh," Ore said quietly, having magically appeared at Ruin's shoulder. "Not a good choice of words…"

"…Excuse me?" the girl's voice suddenly turned quiet and calm. Spot looked bored.

"Beth. You can't keep coming running to me for help! I don't care if it's money problems or relationship problems or job problems or even dangerous problems! I can't be at your back every second. Not anymore. You know that." The girl wasted no time. She slapped Spot across the face so hard that a gull took flight from its position on one of the bars. Spot stood motionless. You don't hit a lady.

"My name. Is Heart," She turned away, thoughtful, and then twisted back around. "And I have never come to you. For anything," Heart walked off, brushing roughly by Ore on her way out. Only when she was out of sight did Spot raise a hand to his cheek and wince.

"Day-nm! That really hurt!" Ruin shrugged. Personally, he thought Spot had it coming. Personally, Spot annoyed the crap out of him. But he wasn't going to say anything. Ore chuckled.

"Beth? Really… You dumbass," Spot glowered. Ore was one of the only ones who could say something like that and get away with it. They both knew it.

"It's her name, isn't it?"

"It's your funeral," Ore replied, rolling his eyes.

Other Brooklyn newsies were now gathering, milling around the gates and talking to their neighbors. Mercy shouldered his way to the front, his tall form easily recognized. Following in his wake was Sling, a small blond haired boy who was also Ore's best friend. Sling spit-shook with Spot and nodded to Ruin.

"Mornin'." Ruin grunted and filed in through the now-open gates with the rest of the crew. "Heyy! Looks like Wood's gonna sell some papes today!" Sling commented, motioning the thug like boy near the back of the line. "That's a new one," Wood was a burly seventeen year old with floppy blonde hair and gray eyes. He was one of Spot's longest and closest friends – they had met up when Wood was nine or ten. He hardly ever sold papers – usually he was watching over Brooklyn for Spot or taking care of other business. Wood hardly ever left Brooklyn, and when he did, it was always with Spot.

"100 papes, please," Ruin slid one of his last fifty-cent pieces across the counter and grabbed the stack of papers. He was running low on money, it was time to start thinking about finding another job… but Ruin knew that wasn't likely. Spot liked his crew to stay around Brooklyn and watch his back – a suspicious boy, but for good reason. Others were constantly plotting against the leader. Just a few days ago Mouse had picked up a growing threat from the Bronx area. Not a good sign.

Ore and Sling were already standing together, heads bent, scheming up outrageous headlines for the day.

"Birds attack humans city-wide?"

"Flying carpet found in Harlem?"

"Slingshot stolen from notorious Brooklynder?"

"Whaa? Oh…" Sling narrowed his eyes and smacked his friend with a paper, then proceeded to sell the same one a few seconds later. "Ehh. Go away and sell your papes!"

+

Ruin sold about seventy of his papers before making his way to Grimaldi's, a pizza place under the bridge. A smile came to his lips, making his sneer that much more pronounced. He stepped into the restaurant, enjoying all the familiarities of the place – the jazz music playing softly, the small noise the bell made when he walked in, the warm smell of New York pizza, and of course…

"Hey Spin," he greeted the girl at the front of the restaurant, brushing shaggy black hair out of his eyes.

"Hello, Peter," she answered, accenting his name with lights dancing behind deep brown eyes.

"Pardon me! I guess it's Callie here, eh? Hard to keep track of your jobs. How's your mother?" Callie made a face.

"Alright, I suppose. The nurse is convinced that she needs to raise her rates."

"That's not good."

"Not at all. Here, grab a seat. I'll be with you in a sec," Callie motioned to some people waiting behind Ruin. He nodded and slumped into a chair near the door, sifting through a paper for the 100th time as he tried to find a useable headline.

"Just grab me a slice?" Ruin pushed some money across the table, but soon found the coins back where they started. Callie closed his hand around the money, her eyes sad.

"It's on the house. We both know you're worse off than anyone in here," she said quietly, winding her way around the tables to the back of the room. Ruin glared at her retreating back, but his gaze softened as he watched her. Nicknamed Spin for her graceful movements and love for dancing, she was an aspiring dancer who was forced to work several jobs to pay the nursing bills for her mother, who was grounded at home after a serious stroke.

A shiver worked its way down Ruin's spine, causing him to tense up. Outside the glass door, he could see two people arguing and motioning towards the building. A few moments later they entered, growled something to Callie, and sat down near Ruin. Ruin raised the paper up, covering most of his face. Every so often he risked a glance at the suspicious duo. One kept looking near the back, where the cash register was located, while the other, much to Ruin's anger, couldn't seem to keep his eyes away from Callie. Callie brought his pizza, flashing a quick smile. Ruin started to warn her about the two, but she was called away before he could say anything.

"Hey Sweets, get us a few slices, will ya?" the second man said loudly, his eyes wandering over her body. Ruin forced himself to take a bite of the food, trying to contain his anger at the man's rudeness. Ruin was easily provoked. Ruin had a horrific temper. Ruin was good with knives. One does not want to get on Ruin's bad side.

Callie simply nodded and moved quickly off, obviously used to the treatment. Ruin wished she wasn't accustomed to it – he didn't know why, but he longed for a reason to attack the strangers. He folded his paper and took a few more bites of his pizza, still eyeing the two. Callie brought the pizza to them, placing it carefully down. The second man moved his hand over hers and looked up into her eyes.

"Thanks…" Ruin made a sound deep in his throat that sounded remotely like growling… Callie removed her hand from the stranger's grasp and looked quickly over at Ruin. The stranger followed her gaze. "Uh huh… And who's this? A little competition?" Ruin's eyes flashed and he made to get up, but Callie moved over swiftly and pushed him back down.

"Don't get yourself into any trouble. I can handle this!" she hissed. Ruin stayed seated but kept his gaze on the stranger, who stared mockingly back. When Callie exited into the kitchen, his friend said something and the stranger followed her. Ruin stood up, but the other man was already looking his way.

"Stay outta it, kid." Ruin sat back down as he caught a glimpse of what the stranger was carrying.

What was he doing with a gun?