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Post by Alice "Knuckles" O'Rourke on Aug 31, 2008 14:55:28 GMT -5
The train chugged slowly to the station and alice glanced across the car that she had jumped into at the last minute. She saw tyler sitting in the other corner with a cigarette in his mouth. One of the few others in the train car coughed and she looked over at them with a slightly startled look on her face.
She stood and walked to the sliding door. Her fingers clasped the bar on the door tightly as she pushed it open a bit. The train was slowing down and she didnt want to be on the train when it stopped just in case someone checked the back cars and found their many stowaways. She looked behind her at tyler and nodded slightly.
She pryed the door open slowly and held onto the doorpost as she watched the ground slide out from under them. Once the ground seemed to be going by slowly enough that she wouldnt hurt herself if she jumped, she put her hat into her pocket, took a deep breath, bent her knees, and let her tight grip on the door frame loose as she pushed off from the borrom of the car.
She hit the ground with a light thud and rolled a bit. She let out an "oof" sound as she collided with the ground and sat still for a minute before sitting up. "ow." she said examineing a small gash on her right arm. "damn rocks." she scuffed the ground with her shoe and looked up for her brother.
She glanced around at the trainyards around them. They didnt look that much different from the ones in chicago except maybe that these ones were slightly more dirty, as if people hung out here regularly and didnt clean up their messes. She raised an eyebrow at a torn blanket a little ways away and a crumpled up newspaper that was near her foot.
"Well." She started glancing back at tyler for a split second before looking back to the messy trainyards in front of her and on to the building beyond it. "Welcome to New York."
She spotted a hole in the gates and sauntered foreward to check it out. She knew that tyler would follow her when he realized that she'd gone. She didnt have to tell her where she was going, he was smart enough to figure out that she would have gone towards the only possible way out. She stepped through the hole and glanced around at the streets of new york. "Doesn't look as bad as they say" Alice said as she made her way further into the city.
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Post by Tyler "Phantom" O'Rourke on Aug 31, 2008 15:07:44 GMT -5
Tyler had kept his eye closed for most of the journey and though he'd thought it might've helped, it really did nothing for his stomach. He pulled out one of the cigarettes that were ever-present in his pocket and stuck one in his mouth lighting it quickly. He sighed, letting the cigarette soothe him. He felt a little better and soon he felt the train beginning to slow. He saw alice get up and go to the door and he just watched her knowing that she would know when they would have to leave so as not to be discovered.
As soon as alice turned and nodded at him he knew that it was time for them to leave. He put the cigarette out and stood up climbing over a sleeping body to get to the door.
He stood with his sister, watching the ground beneath them. When alice deemed it okay to jump, he wasn't sure so he waited for another minute before following her example and jumping out. He apparently made a good choice because although he hit the ground with the same light thud, when he rolled he didnt encounter any rocks. He stood up and brushed himself off though the dirt didnt seem to want to remove itself from his clothes so he gave up after a minute or two.
He also looked around but quickly switched his gaze to the buildings on the streets of new york that he could see were sprawled beyond the trainyard gates. He brought himself back to where he was and glanced around seeing the same thing as his sister and his thoughts echoed her words. welcome home he thought as he put his hands into his pockets while glancing about him trying to figure out how they would escape from the dirty train yards.
Within a minute or two tyler spotted a opening in the gate and pointed at it. He looked over to find alice and rolled his eyes as he saw her already walking towards it. So much for him finding the way out he thought as he shoved his hands into his pockets while following her out of the train yards and into their new streets.
"Doesn't look as bad as they say" Tyler scoffed as he kicked a piece of garbage out of the way. Of she said so....
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Post by Anthony Higgins on Jun 22, 2009 20:22:11 GMT -5
Anthony Higgins and Spot Conlon were't friends.
They had been forced to interact plenty of times, during the strike and that whole awful war thing that was going on, and a few minor conflicts in between. But they were far from friends. Anthony always thought that if he and Spot ever interacted as anything but as one newsboy to another, the world wouldn't be able to take all the stubborness and sharp comments in such a small area of space. And yet, here he was, walking in stride with the King of Brooklyn through Harlem. Spot walked with his eyes set in front of him, his look imperial, as if he owned whatever he looked at. His left hand swung lightly by his side as he walked, while his right hand was perched on top of his cane.
Anthony walked with his hands in the pockets of his new trousers. All his clothes were new, and not entirely unfashionable, either, courtesy of his brother Thomas, who had just recently become a part of his life again. Anthony hair was cut and combed, hidden under a cap that matched the brown tweed of his suit. Even his shoes were shined. Since he'd made the difficult decision to leave his life as a newsboy and start living with his brother, Anthony Higgins had replaced the boy called Racetrack. And that, he thought, must have been what made Spot so curious about him, and compelled him to stop Anthony on the street and walk with him. Newsies didn't get lucky breaks.
"Now don't you go thinkin' I'm gonna call you Mister nothin', ya got that?" Spot said suddenly, giving Anthony a bit of a startle.
"Huh," he replied with a shrug. "I didn't expect nothin' of the kind, Spot."
"An' don't you go thinkin' you're so up and up now that you got new clothes. Once a streetrat always a streetrat." But Anthony knew that this wasn't true, and he had the feeling Spot did, too. But he didn't say anything like that. Still, the comment struck a nerve with Anthony. Did Spot really expect him to feel superior because of a change of clothes? What the hell did he think he was? "Hey, now don't you go actin' like you know me none. What, you think I'm any different now that I got some new--what?"
Spot cut Anthony off mid-sentence and nodded toward the fence near the Harlem train station. Anthony followed Spot's gaze to see two figures--looked like a boy and a girl--climb through a hole. They looked to be teenagers, and furthermore, they looked to be alone. "Newcomers," Anthony said.
"No kiddin', Sherlock," Spot said bitterly. "Whaddya think?"
"You're asking my opinion?" Anthony scoffed. "Geez, I dunno. They look like tough kids. Are they twins? They look like siblings, at the very least."
Spot was quiet for a moment as he glanced at Anthony. "Go over there. See what they're up to," he commanded.
"Me? What do they wanna hear from me for? You're the newsboy, Spot. I'm just some kid, ain't I?" The only reasons Anthony played that card was because 1) he wouldn't have gotten Spot to do anything without it; and 2) he had the feeling it had been on Spot's mind for a while, and decided to harp on in a bit. It seemed to have worked, because Spot scowled and approached the two newcomers. "Whaddya think you're doin' here?" he said. Anthony rolled his eyes. Somehow, every time Spot spoke, it sounded like a threat.
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Post by Spot Conlon on Jun 22, 2009 20:49:05 GMT -5
Spot Conlon and Racetrack Higgins weren't friends.
Especially now, that Racetrack had decided he was too good for the life of a newsboy. Apparently the fink thought he could fool everybody with his glad rags and polished look, but Spot was too smart to fall for that. He could see right through that charade. The society fink who gave his name as "Anthony Higgins" was just plain old Racetrack, a short Italian bum with a gambling problem who smoked too much. Underneath that Harris tweed was a bum. And it was common sense to a smart fella like Spot Conlon: you can dress a bum in Harris tweed and give his shoes a shine, but that don't make him any less of a bum.
Spot couldn't even look at the kid. Looking all modest. Hand in pockets, eh? Probably so everyone would look at his new trousers without a hole in them or nothing. Anthony. God damned Anthony. "Now don't you go thinkin' I'm gonna call you Mister nothin', ya got that?" he spat. The first thing he wanted to do was put this kid in his place. There was no way that Spot would let this bum think he was above him. Not even for a second. Even if he insisted a hundred times over to call him Anthony (what a damned ugly name) Spot would call him Racetrack. If the kid was lucky. There were a load of other named Spot could call him and chose not it.
"Huh," Race replied with a shrug. "I didn't expect nothin' of the kind, Spot."
Spot's fuse was lit. A comment like that would get a real rise out of Racetrack Higgins. Did he think he could slide into this calm, thoughtful, freaking philosophical rat all of a sudden? "An' don't you go thinkin' you're so up and up now that you got new clothes," he snapped. "Once a streetrat always a streetrat." That wasn't true, Spot knew, and the kid walking beside him was living proof. Spot had been curious enough about what had happened to Racetrack to talk with him for a while, but now he was wishing he hadn't. All he knew now was that Racetrack had become a snob.
"Hey, now don't you go actin' like you know me none. What, you think I'm any different now that I got some new--what?"
Spot cut Anthony off mid-sentence and nodded toward the fence near the Harlem train station. He had seen two kids sneak through, and wanted to see if he could overhear anything that they were saying. They looked dirty as anything, and as far as Spot could tell from this distance they didn't look like anything else except that. "Newcomers," Racetrack pointed out the obvious.
"No kiddin', Sherlock," Spot said bitterly. "Whaddya think?" He was glad he'd gotten at least a little bit of a familiar reaction from Racetrack-Anthony-whatever. That meant the kid wasn't as up an a high horse as he'd thought.
"You're asking my opinion? Geez, I dunno. They look like tough kids. Are they twins? They look like siblings, at the very least."
Spot was struck at Racetrack's suddenly sophistocated language. What was this, a tea party? At the very least. Garbage. At the very least Spot shoulc pound him now so that he would know to save that kind of crap for the country club. When Racetrack was with Spot, Racetrack was a newsboy. To put the kid in his place, he commanded, "Go over there. See what they're up to."
"Me? What do they wanna hear from me for? You're the newsboy, Spot. I'm just some kid, ain't I?"
Spot scowled and seriously contemplated smacking Racetrack at the backs of the knees with his cane. See how high up he was when he couldn't stand. But he had more important things to worry about. Racetrack had been right about one thing. The kids looked pretty tough. Brooklyn material, maybe. If they proved themselves all right. Spot sauntered over with a hard expression and asked, "Whaddya think you're doin' here?"
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Post by Alice "Knuckles" O'Rourke on Jun 30, 2009 19:06:56 GMT -5
Alice kicked around some of the gravel covering the ground and watched the dust rise into the air. Great. Alice stuck her hands in her pockets as she glanced around, trying to figure out which direction to go. Each direction looked just like the next and she was definitely lost...
She hated to think it but they were also pretty helpless-a feeling that she greatly disliked but knew she'd have to get used to until they figured the city out. Alice looked at her brother and shrugged before looking back at the streets trying to figure out a solution.
Tyler had pointed towards a street leading away from the train yards but alice was distracted.There were two people walking towards her and her brother. The difference between the two boys was almost comical. As they got closer, alice could see that one of the boys was wearing clean clothes and shiny shoes, while the other boy looked kind of like how most kids on the streets looked but with something more. . .arrogance maybe? Of course it was the second boy who spoke.
"Whaddya think you're doin here?"
Alice's eyes narrowed. Who the hell did this guy think he was? The freakin governor?
"Breathin." She responded matter-of-factly and folded her arms across her chest. "Problem?"
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Post by Tyler "Phantom" O'Rourke on Jun 30, 2009 19:15:51 GMT -5
Tyler's eyes settled on the garbage that lay on the sides of the street. There was definitely some guy sleeping against a building a little ways away and the dirt that Alice had kicked up clung desperately to the air. Chicago had never seemed this dirty...but maybe he just hadn't been looking. Tyler kicked an crumpled brown bag away from his foot and looked up to find alice watching him.
The look on her face was obvious to him though other people might not have been able to tell-she had no idea what she was doing. She looked around and shrugged. She didn't seem bothered but he knew her too well; she definitely was.
Tyler pulled out a cigarette and lit it up. It was gonna be a long day...or however many hours there were till sundown.
Tyler tried to help Alice out by pointing in the least scummy looking direction-just as a suggestion- but right then someone interrupted them.
"Whaddya think you're doing here?"
Tyler hadn't seen the two boys approach so he turned to face the voice and saw that Alice was already looking.
"Breathin. . . Problem?"
Alice's reaction made the corner of Tyler's mouth curl up in amusement. This should prove to be interesting.
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Post by Anthony Higgins on Aug 14, 2009 17:34:31 GMT -5
"Breathin. . . Problem?"
There must have been something about the New York City air that bred girls like this one. No where else in the world were the girls as tough as boys and as hard as nails. Anthony wasn't sure if they were born that way or if that was what the mean, gritty streets had turned them into. Either way, he knew that a street rat was a street rat, despite gender. This girl was no exception. Her cheek made Anthony chuckle a bit and glance over at Spot covertly. He knew for a fact that Spot wouldn't take kindly to someone not cowering in fear at the sound of his voice.
As Spot began to deal with the girl, Anthony turned his attention to the boy, who hadn't said anything yet. "Where are you two from?" he asked, half-friendly, half-wary. He only assumed they were from elsewhere, what with sneaking out of the trainyard over the fence. The trainyard was the place if you wanted to meet with new arrivals to the city streets before they even got their feet wet.
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Post by Spot Conlon on Aug 14, 2009 17:45:02 GMT -5
"Breathin. . . Problem?"
Spot's eyes flashed. "I could care less. And you better watch your damn mouth when you don't know who you're talkin' to." This girl was either foolishly brave or just a dunce. She seemed like every other girl walking around in trousers acting like they were tough. She should know about turf. She should know about leaders. She should know that when it came to the leaders, you respected all, but feared only one. And that was Spot Conlon.
"Where are you two from?"
Spot turned to Racetrack, disgusted. "What the hell is this, the freakin' welcome wagon? No way in hell, Higgins. You ain't a newsie, so stand off. I'll handle this." Spot pushed Race out of the way with his walking stick. If the fink didn't want to be a newsie anymore, he didn't get caught up with the affairs of the street.
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