So this story is a combination of a bunch of daydreams basically. I will try to update this one a week or every other week, although I'm on break right now which usually means daily updates since I have nothing better to do. But please review, it needs it.

Disclaimer: If I owned Newsies, Sarah wouldn't ever wear her hair up and Spot would have even more lines. So, obviously, I don't own it.

And I know this first chapter is short, but there wasn't a whole lot of action. The next ones should get longer, hopefully.

Enjoy!

The Unseen Borough


Chapter 1: Scabbers CAN Fight


You don't know us. You probably never heard of us. You thought we were just random kids from around the city. But we aren't. And we need your help.


"Get up!" yelled Kloppman as he walked through the Manhattan Newsboys Lodging House bunk room. Groans were heard around the room and loud bangs resonated as boys fell out of the top bunks.

"Come on! Mush, Racetrack! Get your butts up! Just 'cause youse on strike doesn't mean you can loll around in bed all day!"

Kid Blink groaned and rolled over on his bed. "Ya knows, I was kinda hoping yesterday was just a bad dream."

"Well, it ain't. So get up, we gots some scabbers to soak." Said Jack, who was somehow awake and alert and ready to go already.

After the usual chaotic mess in the washroom with shaving cream flying everywhere, the Manhattan newsies had assembled and were walking to the distribution center. They gathered into a large group in front of the green gates, ready to ambush any scabbers who thought they could steal their business. They didn't care if any blood was spilled-it was all for Crutchy.

The scabbers stared at them, obviously scared. They knew the Manhattan newsies weren't people to mess with, especially Jack Kelly.

Most of them were standing just inside the gate, although two of them were sitting off to the side. They appeared to be refolding their papers, for whatever reason. Hearing the silence, they quickly jumped up to join the ranks-and protection- of the other scabbers.

"Alright everyone. Remain calm," shouted Davey.

Jack paused for a minute. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the two newsies who had been sitting on the ground were trying to back away, hiding in the crowd. His temper flared.

"Let's soak em for Crutchy!" he yelled, enraged. Jack grabbed Davey's arm and began running to where the scabbers had disappeared.

They were sprinting now and it would have been hard to see them in the mass confusion if one of them hadn't been wearing a purple shirt. They chased them through alleyways and shortcuts that only tried and true newsies knew about.

"We have to get off the street!" Purple yelled, looking over his shoulder.

"Ya think so? Come on, I knows an entrance on the next block over," the other one yelled.

Hearing that, Jack and Davey picked up their pace, adrenaline and anger kicking in. Suddenly a heavy door opened and one of the scabbers ran straight into it, falling to the trash- covered ground with a bang.

Purple shirt was trying to drag him and hold on to all their papes as the two friends stopped and stared.

"Jack, youse don't understand," the one on the ground struggled to say through the blood pouring from his nose like a fountain.

"Course Ise understand. Youse are a buncha dirty, rotten scabbers who don't care about us real newsies. So Ise is gonna soak you."

Davey grabbed his arm, "Wait. Hear them out," he stated, trying to calm Jack down.

Jack relented, "Okayse. Youse got my attention, thanks to me pal here. Start talking."

Reluctantly they stood up, cradling their papes across their chests, the injured struggling to stop the flow of blood. "Wese broke Jack. Wese need money to feed our family." Purple shirt pleaded.

"We all needs to feed our families," Jack brushed off the excuse, "Next time you decide to stay and plead mercy, come up with a better lie."

"I ain't lying Jack! Our mam is dead and Da is drinking most nights and wese got 8 brudders and sisters to take care of!"

Jack closed his eyes and shook his head, "Yeah right. Ise heard that story a bajillion times. Youse had your chance. Now I'm gonna soak ya."

Suddenly his legs were knocked out from under him, an elbow slammed into his stomach, and a fist crashed into his nose with the force of a train. Davey uttered a startled cry at seeing his friend unconscious on the ground before his back was against the brick wall and a bloodied hand was practically choking him.

The boy began to pull his other fist back before a light of understanding came into his eyes and he let it drop.

"Youse helped us, "he stated simply, "Youse made him listen to us."

He took a step back and joined Purple shirt, "We won't forget that," they said in unison, smiling creepily.

They turned and ran, pausing to grab their papers. Davey sank to the ground, confused, before sighing and reaching down to heave Jack's body back to the lodging house.

He gave a start and dropped him, wincing at the cracking sound when Jack's head hit the ground. He sprinted to the next block. He began looking through the alleyways, trying to find the escaped newsies.

Davey discovered them carefully lowering a fire escape ladder to the ground, buried up to their knees in dumpster garbage. "Wait," he yelled, "I never got your names."

They froze. They looked at each other, their gazes seeming to say, Can we trust him?

Purple shirt nodded. "My name's Dragon, "he said.

"And mine Shadow." The other one revealed. Then they were scrambling up the ladder and out of sight.


Jack groaned, sitting up on the stained Lodgehouse couch. "What happened?" he asked, cradling his head in his hands.

Davey snorted from a nearby arm chair, "You got knocked out by a scabber in less than three hits."

Jack jumped, "No way! Scabbers can't fight! Whats his name, huh? Maybe Spot sent im from Brooklyn to spy on us. See if we can take a hit…"

He shook his head, "I don't think he was a scabber either, but I don't think he was from Brooklyn. The one who hit you was called Shadow and purple shirt's name was Dragon."

Jack groaned again, "Dang it. Spot doesn't have any Newsies wid dose names. Wese gonna look for em tomorrow, kay? Find em and show em who's boss."

Davey began to protest when Racetrack ran in, "Jack! Jack! Look what I found!" He wildly thrust a paper into Jack's face.

Jack snatched it from his hands and began reading it, his eyes scanning the page.

"What is it?" Davey asked.

"It's a paper..called the Newsies Banner! And it's reporting everything about our strike!" he said, excited. "Where did you find this? How many of them are there?"

Race frowned, "I found it in one a me papes. And I don't know."

"You found it in your papes? Strange. Try to find whos sellin or makin these tomorrow, okay?"

Race nodded, "Shore Jack. See youse later."

Jack carefully folded the paper up and placed it in his pocket, then turned to Davey. "Did you notice anything weird about those newsies we saw today?"

He nodded, "Yeah. Usually when you try to soak somebody, they drop their papes and run. But even when that one ran into a door, they wouldn't leave them. It was like they didn't want us to take them."

Jack frowned, "That's not exactly strange. Most newsies fight to hang on to their papes. After all, they cost money and wese need to sell them. Now, let me take a nap? I gots a headache the size of New York."

Davey smiled, "Sure. I'm assuming we will be looking for the those scabbers tomorrow?"

"Didn't I already say we were?" Jack said before falling dead asleep on the couch.