It all comes down to this. Well...there's more, obviously, haha--but until then, here's this. It's from Spot's perspective because he has the least perspectives in this, so I wanted to get more in his thoughts before it's gonna have to be from a certain perspective. If I write this correctly, then this should be wild. Enjoy! :)
Jack clenches his fist.
Right across from them all are the two that had made life so much harder recently.
I am going to make them pay, Spot vows silently.
"We have ya right where we want ya," Morris sneers.
"Why we here in the first place?" Race spat. "You two failed to answer that. I thought it was only your hygiene that stank, but turns out it's your communication that stinks too."
Morris snarls at Race.
Spot grabs on to Race's hand. He's mine, he tries to convey with his eyes with all his might. You'll have to come through me to get him.
The tensions between everyone is palpable.
"Why?" David asks simply. That seems to take everyone aback, even though it is a good question.
Leave it to Davey to be a diplomat. Even after being locked up for nearly a week. That's something to be admired. Never in a million years could I be like that.
"Answer him, Oscar," Jack tells the mean-eyed Delancey brother. And he means it.
Oscar sniffs. "You really think you guys have the higher ground?"
"Who could leave here right now and lock you all in?" Morris adds.
Oscar elbows him. "I'm doing the talking."
Everyone rolls their eyes.
(Homophobia coming right up, sadly)
Oscar turns back to the four, glaring. "You're what's wrong with the world. You know that, right? You and you--" he points at Jack and David, "and you and you." He points to Spot and Race. "It's not right. Guys who love guys poison the world. You don't belong here. Any of you."
"So why not just confront us?" Jack interrupts. "It'd save a lot of time."
"Well what's the fun in that?" Oscar challenges. "You and Spot needed to feel loss. Loss after you won that little strike of yours."
"Nothin' about that was little," Jack counters. "We beat good ol' Joe." Then, looking right in the eyes of the kidnapper with an incremented monologue, says firmly, "but now I think we misjudged him. He don't seem to be the worst of our problems. I'm beginnin' to think...it might just be you. But make no mistake. We defeated The World. So what makes you think you and your twin are going to stop us?"
You tell 'em, Jack, Spot praises silently. He has no threats to add of his own. Yet. This still is his fight. But not yet. He needs answers. And when he gets those answers, and he doesn't like them...or doesn't start getting them soon...that's when the fists come out.
"Because it's our word against yours." Oscar smiles maliciously. "If we tell everyone we saw not one, but two pairs of boys kissing, what would the world do to you? What would the world do to the leader of the Brooklyn newsies? What would the world do to the leader of the Manhattan newsies? More importantly, what would the newsies do to the leaders of the newsies?" He lets it sink in. "Yeah. No lodging house will take you in. No newsie will be your friend. No newspaper company would let you sell their papes. You'd be a newsie who couldn't sell papes. You'd be disowned by the newspaper world. And no one would ask why, because they would know. They would know that you got disgraced because you just turned out to be two-"
"That's ENOUGH!" Spot shouts. He moves across the room, about to get right in Oscar's face. He knows exactly what word he was about to hear come out of that filthy mouth. "I'm gonna soak you both right now. Come 'ere, you little-"
Before he can go any closer, or say any colorful language of his own, a hand grabs him, pulling him back.
"It ain't our fight," is murmured in his ear. "They got the aces."
The aces. Ah, yes. They have the appeal of the people higher up. Because the Delanceys are scabs. They dress nice. They have money in their pocket. It's their word against four ragged teenagers barely making a living as it is. If they get beaten up, or worse, they'll never answer to their crimes of kidnapping; because no one will believe that it had happened in the first place. Even if there were those who believed it, the people higher up would turn and look the other way. So, yes. They have the aces.
Reluctantly, Spot holds back. There's a fire in him, though. The Delanceys will pay. It doesn't matter when. The sooner the better, yes. But Spot knows how to be patient. Breathe, he tells himself. Breathe, and wait. It's only a matter of time now. Justice will not be denied.
Oscar seems to see what inner struggle went on through Spot's head. He's clearly enjoying it. Morris ... it's really unclear to tell if he even thinks at all.
"That still don't explain it all, Oscar," Jack counters. "Yeah, yeah, you don't like us. You want the world to know we ain't normal. It's still unclear. Why do all this? Why kidnap David and Race? Didya need us to find 'em? Or were ya gonna lock 'em up forever? Don't even think for one moment that we wouldn't beat you and your brother here in a fight. But I need answers first. No one goes through this much hardship without somethin' big."
"You're smart, Cowboy," Oscar responds. "I can see why you were the leader."
"What do you mean you were? Don't you mean you are?" David counters.
Spot tries to stop a tug of a smile. The Walkin' Mouth.
"Well, he won't be the leader for long if his secret gets out." Oscar crosses his arms.
Jack copies him. "So you want somethin' from us, or else the secret gets out. So what is it?"
"We wanted you to suffer, Cowboy."
That wasn't Oscar speaking.
Nor Morris.
Nor Spot or Jack or David or Race--obviously, but still.
There's a person in the doorway.
Smirking, Oscar and Morris move aside to let this third person enter the doorway and into the light for everyone to see the sneering face.
Weasel.
Jack, David, and Race's faces go through immediate reactions. Spot remembers briefly seeing this man when all the office people who worked for Pulitzer left the building of The World on the last day of the strike. Of course, that was all a blur.
Jack once again clenches his fist. "Shoulda known you would have a hand in this, Weasel."
"It hurts, don't it, Cowboy?" Weasel 'sweet-talks' him. "Seein' someone ya love in such dire circumstances, huh?"
"What do you want in this?" Jack fires back, not loudly, but not without intensity in his words. "What could you possibly gain from something like this?"
"I get to see your downfall!" Weasel exclaims. "The great Jack Kelly, finally broken. Now, I thought you were gone when you were workin' specifically for Pulitzer, but no, you're still here. Have these two told you their plans? Huh? Have they told you just how brilliant all of their plan is?"
Jack, Spot, Race, and David stay silent. Their eyes just simply burn in hatred.
"We forgot to tell 'em one thing," Oscar mentions. Weasel makes a "go ahead" gesture with his hands, smiling ear to ear. It's obvious he knows this. Oscar continues. "You aren't walking out of here without your friends. Well, actually, you might. If you agree to our terms."
"And what terms are those?" Jack asks him. This is just one giant game. They can all see that. So, to get the information they can, they have to humor them.
Oscar's eyes glint. "You and Spot give up your territory."
"NEVER!" Spot yells at him. He has an uproar alongside him from the others as well. "You punks think you can just ask me to hand over my turf to ya? No. We can get everyone out of here, and keep our turf in it too."
"If you do, we go straight to Pulitzer with a story that's gonna have you wind up dead."
The heaviness of the situation finally hits the four.
They could muscle their way out of this. They don't have to give up anything, or anyone. But the Delanceys, or Weasel, could still go and tell the world that they're queer. Put a major target on their backs. And those territories of theirs would no longer be safe for them, nor would their lovers be safe either.
There is no easy way out of this.
Maybe this is a lose-lose situation.
"The one thing I don't understand," Jack says after a few moments of total silence, "is how you two were able to put this together on your own. And Weasel, how the heck do you fit into this anyway?"
"I FORMED THE PLAN!" Weasel explodes. "You think these two can think on their own? No! They want something from you: ownership of Manhattan and Brooklyn--figurative ownership. I want something from you: you to finally get what you deserve. What we both want? Your downfall. This plan? This whole plan right here? Trap the smart boy and the gambler in here, get you to finally fall down on your knees with no good way to get out? THAT WAS ME! ME, I tell ya, ME! At first I just thought it would be two good friends. But then, it got better! More than friends. That's somethin' I could finally exploit, because you sneaky little Cowboy, being an escaped criminal just isn't good enough anymore."
"How do I fit into this?" Spot bursts. "Ya have beef with Jack, yeah? Why'm I in this plan?"
"Because Brooklyn is one of the most powerful and respected boroughs of all," Race puts together. "If you have Brooklyn in your palm, you can have everywhere. Everything. That's what these two want. They just needed someone smart enough to put it all together."
"And they needed someone to be a mastermind throughout it all."
Neither Delancey nor Weasel said that.
Spot's blood runs cold. He recognizes that voice. But once again, everyone else's reaction is far worse, for they are the ones that have encountered this wretched person the most.
Footsteps through the doorway. A shadowy figure.
Out of the shadows emerges the newsies' worst nightmare. A man with rich clothes, silver hair, the coldest blue eyes to ever exist, and the creepiest smile to go with the eyes.
The one and only Warden Snyder.
WELL THAT WAS A PLOT TWIST.
Can it count as a plot twist if I'd planned it out to happen in this story forever...?
Also. YAYYY I HAVE A PLAN FOR WHERE THIS STORY IS GOING!!!! :)
You all have no idea how awesome it is to leave Wattpad one day, not bother it for a day, then come back to find all of your stories have more votes and comments and reads than you remember.
I have to wait until 1901 to allow someone to call David a pacifist GOSH DARN IT. WHY COULDN'T IT HAVE BEEN AT LEAST TWO YEARS SOONER? Yeah, maybe calling him a diplomat works just as well, or maybe better, BUT STILL. Well, at least "diplomat" has been around since 1813. Don't have to worry about that word now.
If anyone caught the Dragon Prince reference I will love you forever.
HAPPY PRIDE MONTH EVERYONE!!!!!! :) <3
What the heck am I doing awake? I told myself to get off my computer before midnight. Midnight was 36 MINUTES AGO.
Guess who proofread the first half and was like "ah, what the heck" for thoroughly rereading the rest so not to make any glaring Midnight Brain Power mistakes.
Why should I try to get this up to 2000 words when I know it's going to tell me a certain amount of words now but when I come back after I publish it, it will have a whole new number?
Please, no homophobia, profanities, hate etc in the comment section.
Best,
~Your Beloved Author (who got their second covid shot under 12 hours ago)