Title: Prey in our Midst

Rated: T

Summary: She has a dangerous past. But Brooklyn is about to find out how far they will go to save the prey in their midst. SpotOC

Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies or any characters you recognize!!!

NOTE!!!!! I am making Spot TALLER for this story! He is as tall as Cowboy and Davey.

Thanx!! That's all!!!

Chapter 1: Running

He was going to kill me.

Seriously kill me.

The closest thing I had ever had to family was now tracking me through the streets of Manhattan.

My chest is heaving, and my breath is rasping like sand paper down my throat. My eyesight was blurry, and the cold streets were filled with fog.

Suddenly I pitched forward, my boot catching on something as the surface I was running on changed beneath me.

Both of my hands reached out as my legs buckled. Instant pain.

I had to keep going. I had to stand up. It took me three tries to get my exhausted legs to hold my weight, and I really wasn't that heavy.


How had this happened?

One minute I'm working, just the way I should be, then everywhere I turn, there are bloodthirsty eyes.

This is why I had wanted out.

I pause to listen, but stumble back into a run when all I can here is the pounding of my heart and the rasps of my breath.

Well, at least I'm still breathing, no matter how much it aches to do so. After a time that feels like forever, but could have been a few seconds, the surface changes again. I don't trip this time, but it's a struggle top remain on me feet anyway.

I have to find somewhere. Somewhere to hide for just an hour or so. The adrenalin that had kept me going for this long had begun to fade when I fell. All I had left was fear. And from what I was running from, fear was more then enough for at least another mile.

After that…who knew?

The buildings around me reared up, dodging from one ally to another, I was soon completely lost. Hopefully anyone chasing me was too.

It must be early morning, one, maybe two. All the streetlamps were flickering weakly, but the houses were very dark.

I turned down a dim alleyway, right behind a dying streetlamp. It was in between to old brick buildings; around the corner, water was lapping.

Changing road surfaces.


The docks.

My entire body froze.


I was in Brooklyn.

Heaven save me. It might be too late though: I was as close to hell as you get in New York.

Sighing, I collapsed in the ally mouth, no longer able to stand. My eyes closed, and slowly, one type of darkness faded into another.

- -

"What the hell?!"

"What did you eat yesterday, Nails?!"

"God help me!"

"Air! I can't breath!"

"Christ! Spot! Are you alright? Nails, you almost killed the King of Brooklyn!!"

I opened my eyes, everything sore from sleeping a few hours in the hard ground, and the flight yesterday.

My body went into hyper drive. I leapt to my feet, looking for the source of the shouting voices.

Above me in the alleyway, a fire escape was quickly filling as barley dressed teenaged boys tumbled out a window. Some how I didn't think they were racing out to catch the sunrise.

Already two boys were dropping down the metal structure, almost on ground level. On of them glanced down, and our eyes met.

Steel blue. Molten silver. The sky reflected off snow. Storm clouds and lightning. Liquid Mercury. All of it was trapped in the eyes that seared my soul in that moment.

And I knew what those stunning eyes saw.

A petite 17 year old girl, her long hair tangled down her back, the color of late autumn leaves. Her once white dress smeared with dirt and ripped at the hem. Red splatters on it resembled blood. A cut on her pale cheek, dried blood dripping down from it, onto a long neck with bruises that resembled fingerprints. And in the moss green of the girl's eyes, among the streaks of yellow and gold, the blue eyes would see one emotion triumph above them all.

Haunted fear.

The fear of a hunted animal.

The instinct to stay alive.

I turned, and tried to run. I could hear the voices stopping as one by one the boys noticed me. Then they began again, but this time calling out to me.

Calling for me to stop.

Then I heard a whoop.

"Go Spot! Get her!"

One of them was following me. And in my present state, he would catch me. My legs ached and my ankles hurt. The muscles in my calves protested ever step vehemently, and my backside had never hurt this much.

A hand grabbed my wrist, and I was pulled up short, whipped around by someone about a head taller then I was.

I closed my eyes, pushing as hard as I could against my captor's grasp.

"Look at me."

A simple command, but one I would not obey. I opened my eyes, but looked resolutely around the man's shoulder, and was not heartened by what I saw.

The boys on the ladder had followed us. Still more were pouring out of the alley and the front door of the brick warehouse.

My eyes zeroed in on the sign above the door.

'Newsboys Lodging House'

Oh God.

All these boys were part of the famous Brooklyn Newsies. They were notorious for being tough and mean. These boys were like a family; you mess with one, you face them all. The strike this summer would have been nothing if not for the Brooklyn Newsies.

And here I am, right in the middle of their sacred turf.

They were all staring at me, curiosity and alarm mixed in their eyes. I would look at me the same way if I were them.

"Look at me."

That simple command again.


My voice was soft, but still painful coming out of my bruised throat.

"Please, just let me go."

"Naw. Brooklyn ain't safe ta walk alone."

I did look up then, more out of shock then anything else.

Those eyes.

I was falling into the eyes I had seen on the fire escape. He was the one closest to the ground, it made sense that he was the first one to catch up with me.

It was almost winter. The air was cold, and storm clouds were rolling over Manhattan. They would be here soon.

"Where do ya live? One of us will walk ya home."

It was strange. This Newsie was being kind to me, after all I had been through, all I had done. He was completely ignoring the state I was in. More interested in getting me off the street, home, then getting me fixed up.

How strangely gallant.

Hysterical. I was hysterical. I began to laugh, it sounded slightly mad. There were tears in my eyes, but the bitter laughter didn't stop.

Blue eyes narrowed slightly in surprise and confusion.


My voice bounced off the buildings. Loud and harsh.

"Home is where they did this to me."

I ripped away from him then, holding up the folds of my dress as I raced down the street. Pain was momentarily forgotten as thunder peeled overhead. Dark storm clouds blotting out the blue sky and rising sun. I made a right down an alleyway, dodging around the sleeping homeless onto another deserted main street. With a storm brewing, everyone was inside, coming up with an excuse not to go out.

As I ran time melted into nothing more then the breaths I took and the sound of my boots hitting the pavement. It was raining at random intervals. Look down a street on the left and there would be sun, but it was raining a street down on the right.

I had no sense of direction, I just did my best to stay one street corner ahead of the pelting icy water.

But after a while even that became impossible. The pain from before set back in. Sharp spikes in my head and dull aches in my back and shoulders. My legs were on fire and my feet were lead.

Maybe it would be a relief if they found me.

Death had never been as terrifying to me as Brooklyn and considering it was a choice between the two, I was leaning heavily toward death.

Or maybe I was just leaning in general.

It turned out I was doing just that. Standing in the middle of the empty road, the rain plastering my dress and hair to my back, swaying.

What had I just been thinking?

Darkness began to flutter at the edge of my vision.

Where was I?

I watched from what seemed like a great distance as I dropped to my knees.

Oh forget it.

I closed my eyes, and let darkness claim me.

Gone Crazy and Staying There,