AN: Okay, time for chapter 6! Finally, an update!!!!!!!

The CC characters in this chapter are property of Tabloid. Not mine. Thanks to her!

                                                                                                                                               

Blink

            "Is it alive?"

            "He's a person, Smalltalk. Not an 'it'."

            "Okay…is he alive?"

            "I don't know."

            I slowly opened my eye, only to find myself in almost complete darkness. I was in an alley, dim light filtering out from the street.

            "Hey…you okay?"

            My eyes focused in on the person kneeled beside me, his dark eyes studying me like a predator taking in his prey. I shot upright, and he jumped back.

            "Where am I?" I choked out, and he looked up at the girl with him.

            "You're in Chicago. You know…the windy city…" the girl said, and me eyes immediately shot down to my watch. How long had I been out? And how the hell did I get to Chicago?

            25 days, 0 hours, 34 minutes, 8 seconds.

            And I was losing time…um…by the second. Literally. And yet…I had only lost a few minutes since sending David and Jack back.

             I shakily stood up, and tried to run to the end of the alley, almost falling over twice. The boy and girl were automatically at my side, helping me stand up straight.

            "Hey, hey…slow down. What's wrong?" the guy asked, and I wrenched out of his grip and reached into my pocket, pulling out my list of names. I quickly found the name associated with Chicago- Peter Kent.

            "You need to sit down." The girl started.

            "No…I've gotta find him. Now." I snapped.

            "Find who?"

            I started walking again, forcing them to keep up. "Peter Kent."

            The girl immediately stopped. "You're looking for Peter Kent? What drove you to that kind of insanity? I mean, first of all, you'd probably be arrested for just being seen with him. And he'd probably just shoot you anyway. Not to mention there's a slim chance he's actually where I would think he is, cause I try to avoid him in the first place…"

            I stopped and turned around, interrupting her in mid-sentence. "Do you know where I can find him?"

            She looked at her male companion, and he shrugged. "He's pretty much impossible to find."

            I groaned and turned around, beginning to walk away, but I was stopped by a hand on my shoulder.

            "Wait. He's not impossible to find…just very difficult." The girl said.

            "So where can I find him?"

            I didn't mean to snap at her, but she didn't seem phased anyway. She continued on, receiving disappointed glares from the boy with her. "Well, you'd probably have to find a guy from his gang. Or a girl. I mean, it used to be a guys only thing, but it opened up to girls about a year ago. Anyway, if the guy doesn't kill you, he might tell you where to find Peter. Or he might just tell you to get lost."

            Was she ever going to stop?

            The guy must've noticed the incredulous look on my face, and he quickly interrupted. "What she's saying is that you just need to get into gang territory and ask around and hope you don't get shot."

            Well. Chicago hadn't changed a bit.

            I mumbled a 'thank you' and turned to walk away, but the girl reached out and grabbed my arm, yanking me back.

            "Are you insane?! You're gonna end up dead trying this!"

            I shrugged. "Yeah. I'm insane. And I've gotta try."

            "We'll help."

            The boy looked at his companion in complete shock.

            "Well, you can help. Personally, I'm not going anywhere near Peter Kent."

            "Aw, Tabloid…please?"

            "No."

            I rolled my eyes, and then walked away from them in mid-argument. I didn't have time to wait on them, and I certainly didn't need their help if all I had to do was ask around. Besides, I'd lived on the streets my whole life. Gangs were nothing new to me. I could handle things.

            Someone grabbed me from behind and I jumped in shock, spinning around only to find that annoying girl standing there.

            "Where are you going?" She asked, sounding very mad at me.

            "I don't have time ta wait on you and your boyfriend ta sort things out. I gots a schedule to keep."

            "But-"

            I didn't even give her a chance to finish. I continued walking, sighing in frustration when she persisted in following me. And it wasn't long before I heard another set of footsteps, and Tabloid had joined us.

            People in this time were too helpful for their own good.

            I stopped and turned to face them. "Look, I'm fine. I don't need any help."

            "Do you have a gun?" Tabloid asked.

            "No."

            "A knife?"

            "Um…no."

            "Mace?"

            What in the hell was mace? "I don't think so."

            Tabloid shot the girl an amused look. "Then you're definitely going to need our help."

            I scowled. "I don't need anyone's help."

            I don't know why I snapped at them like that. Maybe the whole ordeal was getting to me more than I thought it was. But as I walked away, I realized that I'd made a mistake in not accepting their help, but there was nothing I could do about it now.

            It didn't take me long to find someone to ask. But just asking was probably the biggest mistake of my life.

            "Where can I find Peter Kent?"

            The boy I asked immediately had a gun at my head, one finger on the trigger. I started to back away, but when he cocked the gun, I decided that wasn't the best idea.

            "You an undercover cop?" he asked, and I shook my head.

            "No. I'm just an old friend of Peter's."

            "He didn't say you was coming."

            "He didn't know."

            He stood for a moment, uncertain, and then he caught sight of something behind me and his eyes widened.

            "Tabloid, what are you doing here?"

            I turned around- probably a bad idea with a gun still to my head- and there stood Tabloid, Smalltalk standing behind him.

            "Put the gun away, Todd."

            "But-"

            Smalltalk broke in. "He said put the gun away. And you know, the last time he told you to put the gun away and you didn't, you remember what happened that time, don't you? Oh, that was back when you were dating Tiffany! How is she, anyway?"

            Uncomfortable silence.

            Then, he put the gun away.

            "So you guys know this idiot?"

            "Yeah. Is there any way he can see Peter without getting shot up?" Tabloid asked. Todd shifted uncomfortably, the gun still in his hand.

            "You know that's not a good idea, man. I could get in some deep shit for that."

            "He's harmless. He isn't even armed."

            Todd laughed, and finally put the gun away. "Is he nuts?"

            "I think so."

            Todd looked from me, to Tabloid, and back to me. "Alright, but you guys are taking your lives into your own hands."

            He led us down a few side streets and to an apartment building, where we went to the third floor. A few guys and girls stood in the hallway, laughing loudly and obviously drunk, and I was a bit nervous as we passed them. They ignored us, and Todd stopped and knocked on a door labeled 312. The music inside was so loud that I was surprised that everyone wasn't out in the hallway to avoid going deaf.

            "Who is it?" A voice yelled from inside.

            "It's Todd. Got a guy here who wants to see Peter."

            A hesitation. "Come on in."

            Todd turned to Smalltalk and Tabloid. "You guys stay out here."

            I expected them to object, but they seemed okay with the decision. So Todd opened the door, and I followed him inside the cramped, smoky apartment. I was stunned by the type of 'music' they were playing- it wasn't really singing, it was just a bass line, drums, and some guy talking in rhythm. And the dancing looked more like some kind of indecent sexual act with clothes on than anything else. Well….some people had clothes on, anyway.

            People stared as I walked past, most of them stoned or drunk. A few girls and even one guy tried to drag me into dances, but I made sure to keep up with Todd. I was already getting a headache from the pounding bass of the speakers.

            Todd opened another door, and I sighed in relief as it closed behind us and the sound of the music was muffled a bit. I looked up, and there was Itey, a cigarette in his mouth and a girl on either side of him. He was wearing all black clothes and his eyes were lined in black, his hair was spiked up, and he was wearing what looked like a spiked dog collar and spiked bracelets.

            "Who's this, Todd? A male prostitute?" he asked, studying me carefully. I certainly hoped I didn't give off the image of a male prostitute.

            "Nope. He says he needs to talk to you. Wouldn't say why, though."

            Itey threw down his cigarette, said something to the two women, and then he stood up and motioned for me to follow. Todd stayed put and I followed Itey into another room, and he slammed the door shut.

            "You've got thirty seconds. Talk."

            "Okay," I wasn't really sure where to start. I mean, Itey looked as if he might kill me after one word, and the gun in his belt didn't help the situation. "You were a newsie."

            "How much beer have you had?"

            "I'm not drunk. It…Peter, you've gotta listen ta me. You were a newsie, and you were sent forward in time ta stop da strike."

            "You're insane."

            "No, I'm telling da truth! Your name was Itey, and I'm Blink. Kid Blink. Don't you remember dis at all?"

            He suddenly pulled out his gun and aimed it, the barrel half an inch from my forehead, and I closed my eyes tight. This is where it ends, I thought. I'm never going to find him. I'm going to die here.

            A few moments passed, and nothing happened. Even so, I waited a few more seconds before opening my eyes. He was standing there, gun to my forehead, his jaw clenched and his finger tight on the trigger. But as I looked at his eyes, I saw something there other than 'hardened criminal'. Something that reminded me that this was still Itey standing here, and not just some total stranger.

            "Itey…"

            "Get out of here before I blow your fucking brains out."

            "But-"

            "I said now!"

            For a moment, I considered bolting before he really did pull the trigger. But something told me that he wouldn't.

            "I'm not going anywhere. I've come dis far, and some egotistical gangster isn't gonna end it."

            The sound of the gun going off followed, and I actually felt the breeze of the bullet as it passed over my head. I jumped back and ended up tripping over an end table, falling over backwards and slamming my head against the wall. I heard a kind of metallic ring, but thankfully I didn't pass out or anything.

            And in about two seconds, the gun had replaced itself at my forehead.

            "That was really dumb. I could shoot you right now."

            "But you won't."

            "And how do you know that?"

            "I just do, Itey."

            "Stop calling me that!"

            I reached behind my head to make sure it wasn't bleeding before continuing. "Why, because you're starting to remember? Mush, Snitch, Skittery, Dutchy…all the others? You remember Pulitzer and the strike?"

            "I don't remember nothin'!"

            With that he turned and stormed out of the room, and I slowly stood up, wavering a bit from the sharp pain in my neck now. But I could tell that Itey remembered something. Otherwise he would've shot me right then and there.

            Quite different from the generally sweet little thief that always lost at poker back at the lodging house.

            I would need Tabloid's help to convince him. I didn't know whether he was high or just in denial, but either way, I had to get him to believe me.

                                                                                                                                               

AN: I didn't proofread this chapter. Sorry about any grammar errors. But hey, it's an update, isn't it?

So, next chapter, we've gotta convince our little Gangster!Itey. He's s cute, even wearing the spikes and eyeliner!