Chapter Three:

We Finally Meet Spot Conlon

Militia's POV

There were several things that I regretted in my life. My choice of night clothes was the biggest at the present moment. Because, well, when you're in 1899 New York, not to mention it being Brooklyn, people who walk by are not going to treat you the way you should be treated. Especially if you're a girl and you're wearing A) short-shorts, B) a spaghetti strapped tank top and C) converse boot-shoes, that looked totally bizarro in the present day and age. (The present day and age being the turn of the century...) Needless to say I stuck out like a sore thumb and received several stares. Some disgusted glances from 'proper' lades and some hungry glances from the 'gentlemen' that the said 'proper' ladies were holding onto.

So yeah, I totally set myself up for humiliation when I picked out my pajamas. But in my defense, I didn't know that I'd be transported to the past by crawling through a hole in my closets wall. Yeah. Because that doesn't sound crazy at all. I blew out a sigh as I rubbed my eyes.

"Who is she..."

"...wonder if she'll be cheap..."

"...disgrace to wear such little clothing..."

I was seriously getting tired of all of the random people on the street judging me. And I was ready to punch the next person, who even just looked at me funny, out. I opened my eyes, gritted my teeth, held my head high, and walked with pride and confidence radiating off of me in waves. Racetrack was in front of me, not seeming to notice the stares, and was still muttering to himself about last names. I was starting to wonder if he was off his rocker. He seemed fine when I met him...

"Ah, uh, wese is at da docks." Racetrack's voice sliced through my musings. "Dis is wheah Spot an' 'is boys oughta be. Just at da end 'a da dock dere." He pointed in the direction where I saw many people, boys I think though I was too far away to be sure, jumping into the freezing East River. They so wouldn't have been able to do that in my time. Why? Because the East River in New York is polluted and gross, that's why.

I turned to Racetrack, "Thanks. I mean it." I murmured and I did. Without him, we'd still be lost in Manhattan. I nodded to the group of people standing behind me, "You all stay here. I need some one-on-one time with my...Whatever-he-is-to-me." My friends nodded. Octavia and Mandy glared, and Melody didn't respond. Jeez. That girl needed to build up her self-esteem. I started to walk away when someone grabbed my arm.

"Wait. Spot an' 'is boys can be a little...rough at times. An' it wuldn't be good if youse wiolk'd up ta 'im yerself...Especially dressed like dat. An' I'd feel responsahble if youse got hoit. So I'se gunna come wit chu." He announced as he started to walk down the dock. I blinked a little bit in shock. Basically...He had just told me what to do. You do not tell a Conlon what to do. It can be very dangerous. We're natural born leaders you see. We're like the alphas in a pack. And when another alpha comes along and starts sniffing around...Let's just say that we can get really territorial. About anything. Even if it's stupid. If it had been any other boy I would have beaten him to a pulp. But...Racetrack seemed different somehow. I shrugged it off and made to follow him.

"That was amazing. That Racetrack dude totally told Metal off and she didn't kill him..." I heard Jackie stage-whisper to someone. I slowed down.

"Maybe she's in a good mood..." Sam mused. I rolled my eyes.

"Or maybe, she was exercising massive amounts of self-control, because she really needed this guy to get her and her friends home." I threw over my shoulder without turning around. I jogged to catch up to Racetrack. Once I reached him we walked on in companionable silence.

"So...What's this 'Spot Conlon' like?" I asked Racetrack. He stopped so suddenly that I walked right past him. I stopped when I realized that he wasn't following me. I glanced over my shoulder at him in confusion. He was staring at me like I was a Loony-toon come to life.

"Youse dun know 'im?" He asked with a shocked look on his face. I shook my head. "But...But youse have da same key as 'im...And da same cane..." He trailed off.

"Never met him. To be honest I didn't even know that he existed until I saw the paper." I admitted while shrugging. Racetrack's eye twitched.

"Ya means ya dun even know 'im an' youse is gunna jus' woilk up ta 'im an' talk ta 'im?" He exclaimed.

"Uh...Yeah." I muttered. He started to shake his head but froze when he glanced over my shoulder.

"Well I'se can't takes ya back now...Dey already noticed us." He frowned.

"They?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Spot's boys. If I'se toin around nows, he'll jus' send 'is boidies afta us." Racetrack scratched his head.

"I wasn't going to turn around anyway." I shrugged as I started off towards the end of the dock again. Racetrack scrambled to catch up.

"Youse an' Spot is really alike ya know?" He asked me. I raised an eyebrow at him in question. "Chu both woilk away witout lettin' people answah chu. Like youse is in chahge." He shook his head as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Well, he is a Conlon. That's the kind of stuff we're known for...Along with a super-sized ego, and a hot temper." I muttered as I glanced at him sideways. He looked amused.

He opened his mouth to respond when a different voice cut him off.

"Wut chu doin' in Brooklyn, Higgins?" I turned around to face the boy who had spoken to Racetrack.

"Enjoyin' da scenery." Racetrack replied, his voice wasn't exactly warm. Okay, it was downright cold.

"Of course. Da scenery." The boy nodded as his gaze flickered to me. He looked at me, his gaze raking my body. "Brooklyn's scenery is beaut'ful but..." He let out a low whistle, "Looks ta me like ya have even better scenery in 'Hattan Higgins." The boy said as his expression became predatory.

I had a feeling he was talking about me.

What gave you that idea...? My inner voice shot back sarcastically.

Sometimes I really hate you. Great. If someone peeked into my mind right now they'd think I was crazy. Because I was arguing with myself. Again.

Of course you're crazy. Wait...You didn't know that? Man, you really are as dumb as you look.

You know what I didn't understand? Why my inner voice insisted on insulting my intelligence all of the time. I mean, you'd think because we were the same person my inner voice would be nice right? Wrong.

"-how much?" I heard the boy ask his green eyes glittering. I hadn't even been listening. Racetracks eyes flashed.

"Now youse listen ta mese Ice, she's heah ta see Spot, an' I'se won't have youse insultin' da lady by-" The other boy, Ice, cut Racetrack off with a dark chuckle.

"Lady? Youse must be losin' yoah mind Higgins. She ain't no lady." He turned to me. "So, hows would youse like ta come wit mese? Huh? I'll pay youse double foah wut Spot woulda payed youse." Ice leered at me. He was actually sending my creep-meter way off. Now let me explain something. If this boy had seen my face he wouldn't be talking the way he was now. He'd know that I was a Conlon. I blinked slowly at him.

"I'll give you one chance to step away from me, and leave." I said in a calm voice, my mouth turning up at the corners. Laughter erupted from where the boy stood.

"Did'ja heah dat Higgins? She'll give me one chance! Ha. Where'dija fiond dis one eh? Spunky. I like dat." He laughed at me. I had been described as many things throughout my life; short-tempered, cold, arrogant...But never in my whole entire life had I been called spunky. I didn't like it. Not at all. "I'se can promise youse dat youse'll feel pleasure toots." He murmured his voice coming closer to my ear. I didn't say anything. I just started grinning. He took this as encouragement. With his next words I started seeing red. "I'se'll tell youse wut; I'se can't wait to feel wut-" That was the last thing I heard before a ginormous SPLASH! Echoed around the dock. After that all was quiet. I blinked my eyes and looked around. I realized that I had Spot's cane, my cane now, in my right hand, and a certain irritating newsboy was missing. I glanced to the side as I heard splashing. There floundering around in the East River, was the newsboy named Ice. As soon as I saw the shocked expression on his face I knew what had happened. I had done it again.

Damn. Sometimes when I got really angry I'd...Black out. And before I knew it...I'd do something I didn't know I was doing. If that even makes sense. I don't even remember pushing Ice into the river. Hell, he annoyed me so much that, apparently, I didn't even want to touch him. I had used the cane to shove him in. Slowly I put my cane into the purse I was carrying. I was dangerous with a weapon. Every Conlon was.

"Ya jus' pushed...A Brooklyn newsie into da rivah..." Racetrack stared at me in surprise. "Spot's gunna kill ya! No one touches his newsies unless he says so..." He shook his head. I shrugged as I turned toward the end of the dock again.

"I don't care. I'm a Conlon. We aren't afraid of anyone…Even our own relatives." I started walking again. When Racetrack and I reached the end of the dock a boy with blond hair in a cabbie's hat spoke up.

"Uh...Spot? Race is heah...And he brought a goil..." The newsie trailed off while staring at me...Or really, my clothes. I really needed to change soon. As soon as the Brooklyn newsie said this I heard a thump as someone landed on the ground in front of me.

"Heya Spot. How goes it?" Racetrack asked as I saw him spit into his hand and hold it out. Since the cabbies' hat I had on obstructed some of my vision I only saw Spot Conlon's hand reach out slowly, cautiously, and shake Racetrack's.

"I'm fione. But, it looks like youse braught some trouble wit youse Race." His voice made me start. He sounded exactly like my father...Which was way beyond creepy. "Seems like she trew one of me best biodies in da rivah. Youse can't expect me ta see dat and not do anyting about it." Spot said calmly. "Wut's her name?" He asked. And that's what set me off. He asked the question as if I wasn't even there. It pissed me off. (Remember I have an amazingly short-temper...)

"Militia." I said through gritted teeth, "And there isn't anything to do about it. He was practically trying to rape me. I was merely defending myself, and showing him who held the power." I added.

"She doesn't have an accent. Wheah is she frem Race?" He asked, ignoring me completely. Why that freakin' arrogant s-...That was it. He was my ancestor. He was like me. I knew how his mind worked. Before Racetrack could respond, I cut him off.

"Hey. Do you know where the person is I came here to see?" I asked letting my voice sound bored. "Heard he was a…Well, that he was an arrogant S.O.B. Where is he?" I asked Racetrack. There were a couple beats of silence.

"Ya know…I'se ain't nevah had ta hit a goil befoah, but youse is gettin' closah ta bein' da foist." I heard Spot say. I started to smirk.

"Oh, are you finally speaking to me? Directly?" I let a fake shocked gasp escape my lips.

A couple more beats of silence. "I'se sawry Spot…She doesn't know wut she's doin'"

"Oh, but I know exactly what I'm doing…" I purred as my signature smirk settled upon my face.

"Who awr youse really?" Spot asked. I chuckled.

"I'm Conlon….Militia Conlon." I slid the hat off my head and let my hair fall to my waist. Silence as I finally got a good look at my…Whatever-he-was-to-me. Wow. Even more creepy. He looks like Slip. Only…A little older…Slip was only thirteen. So…

If Spot was shocked that I looked almost identical to him he hid it well.

"Well…Looks like wese gots some talkin' ta do." He said his face expressionless.

Damn straight.

A/n: Okay I am so so so so so sorry that I have failed to update this story for you for…Almost a year…Yeah. Sorry. I BEG FOR ALL OF MY READERS' FORGIVENESS! –grovels- I've just had…Summer school…Yes…Spanish 1. I am finally going into high school my peeps. I am officially…F-R-E-S-H-M-E-A-T. Haha. Yeah. Anyways press the green button…REVIEW AND MAKE MY DAY! Oh…And also…A thousand apologies for the shortness!

XOXO EmiShae