#Sniper newsies

[wekiaam]

Exploring background manhattan newsie looks!! I want to give them all a cohesive colour scheme and all slightly different outfits, also more variety in ages, lengths and nationalities. Also they're just so fun to draw

[jackmkelly]

look at them go :)

[racetrackmybeloved]

Did Tommy Boy, Sniper and Kid Blink Scab?

To clarify, the question is whether the characters themselves scabbed, or whether the actors played multiple characters, one being their regular newsie character (Tommy Boy, Sniper, Kid Blink), and the other being an unnamed ‘scab’ character.

Most of the posts I’ve seen on here about these characters assume that the characters themselves scabbed, but I disagree:

(Note: this is all based on the 2017 proshot, I know there may be some differences with the original Broadway production and the UK production, but I have not seen those so cannot form an opinion on them.)

David says "Who are they?" when the scabs show up.

All three of them were at the circulation gate on the first day.

Tommy Boy and Sniper were at the circulation gate the next day. Tommy Boy questions Jack ("You got an idea?").

Tommy Boy was at Jacobi's. He was mentioned by name, and given an assignment by Jack ("Tommy Boy, take the east side").

To be fair on him, David did meet a lot of people on those days, and was under a lot of stress. However, even if he didn't know them by name, he should at the very least recognise Tommy Boy well enough to not ask who he was.

2. Finch says "They think they can just waltz in here and take our jobs?"

The implication of "take our jobs" is that the scabs are aiming to replace the existing newsies, and were not newsies themselves at that point.

3. Jack does not appeal to them as individuals.

When Jack is giving his speech to convince the three scabs to throw down their papers, at no point does he name them, or say anything personal. We know for a fact that he knows Tommy Boy well enough to trust him with an assignment. Why did he never appeal to him as a friend? Counter-argument: Jack is a dumbass.

4. IMDB and end credits.

Each of the actors' IMDB pages list them as playing two characters, one being their named newsie, and the other being 'scab'. This is done in the same way as Jack Sippel's IMDB, which lists him as playing both Darcy ("My father owns The Trib") and Kenny (his newsie character). This indicates that Tommy Boy, Sniper and Kid Blink did not scab, and their actors just swap between characters.

However, the official credits at the end of the film on Disney+ tell a different story. Michael Dameski is credited for playing both Tommy Boy and 'Scab', while Andy Richardson and Daniel Switzer are only credited for their respective named newsie characters.

From this, I would argue that it is uncontentious that Tommy Boy and 'Scab' are intended to be separate characters. I don't know where IMDB gets their information on character names, and whether it is common for them to be incorrect.

I will mention that there are other instances of characters not being mentioned in the credits. For example, Andrew Wilson plays three characters: a man in the audience at Medda's theatre, one of Wiesel's goons, and a Brooklyn newsie. He is credited as playing 'Willie' and 'Bart'. ‘Bart’ is presumably Andrew Wilson’s Brooklyn newsie character, as that is his last appearance, but which character is Willie? (It is also pretty clear that these are three separate characters, as theatre Andrew has a moustache, and I highly doubt a Brooklyn newsie would be working with Wiesel to beat up Manhattan newsies). None of these characters have any lines so it does not matter, but I just wanted to bring up that the credits may gloss over non-speaking characters. As such, it is possible that Andy Richardson and Daniel Switzer should have been credited as ‘Scab’ as well as their named characters.

Side note: the Newsies Wiki also says that Tommy Boy was a scab, but I do not consider this to be a reliable source.

In my opinion, it is quite clear that at the very least, Tommy Boy did not scab. Whether Kid Blink and Sniper scabbed is up to interpretation, but I believe that all of them were playing alternative 'scab' characters.

Note: Daniel Switzer (Sniper) speaks one line when he is not playing a scab ("So's the Bronx!" - Brooklyn's Here), while Andy Richardson (Kid Blink) does not have any independent lines outside of when he plays a scab. However, even Daniel Switzer's line is not done as Sniper - this is presumably another instance of an actor playing a different character, in this case being a Bronx newsie.

I do question the director's choice of having Michael Dameski play both a scab and a newsie who is involved in the strike.

Michael Dameski has 2 lines as Tommy Boy:

"It's gettin' bad out there" - Carrying the Banner

"You got an idea?"

He can also be heard (at least) 2 more times, but I would consider those instances to be background shouts rather than scripted lines. In addition, these lines are said in the minutes after he throws down his papers, so it is unclear whether he is saying them as Tommy Boy or as 'Scab'.

"That's right!" - Seize the Day

"Hey!" - Seize the Day

As mentioned earlier, his character is also directly named, and given an assignment by Jack. If the scabs were intended to be anonymous unnamed characters who were not previously newsies, it makes sense that Andy Richardson (Kid Blink) and Daniel Switzer (Sniper) were selected. I assume that their choices were limited to ensemble actors who would be in the Seize the Day number, so Andrew Wilson, JP Ferreri and Stephen Hernandez (Brooklyn newsies) were not options. Julian De Guzman (Smalls), David Guzman (Ike), and Jacob Guzman (Mike) do not have any speaking lines in the musical, nor are they mentioned by name. To avoid raising additional issues of one twin scabbing while the other did not (which would be a GREAT plot line in my opinion, but would not be realistic due to time constraints and as it would have detracted focus), the logical choice for an actor to play a scab alongside their newsie character would have been Julian De Guzman (Smalls).

Tommy Boy however, is a character that we recognise. We know he is extremely literal (his confusion when Jack says "would you keep your shirt on?"), and is likely more of a realist than an optimist ("it's gettin' bad out there" in Carrying the Banner). He, along with Specs and Finch are newsies that Jack specifically singled out to bring the news of the strike to the other boroughs. We can infer that he is someone who Jack trusts, is older, and has likely been a newsie for a long time. Him being selected to go the extra mile (literally) to tell other newsies about the strike would make it heartbreaking if they had chosen the narrative of the scabs being existing newsies. It brings up questions that make the plot more complex: what happened in that 24 hour period that caused him to lose faith? What made him betray his friends? However, I don't think that was what they were going for, as the credits explicitly make a distinction between Tommy Boy and the scab.

If we ignore literally everything I have said up until this point, and assume that the intended plot line was that three existing newsies had scabbed, then it was not executed very well. It would have been much more effective if they had selected newsies who we had more prior connection to, such as Romeo, Finch, or Albert. We have zero emotional attachment to Sniper and Kid Blink, as we do not know their names, and do not hear them speak. Even though Tommy Boy is an established character, he still barely speaks, and we have little to no emotional connection with him. The personality traits mentioned earlier would not even be picked up on by the casual watcher. (If he is anyone's favourite prior to that moment, it is 100% due to Michael Dameski's dancing, and not the character itself).

Further, if the characters themselves scabbed, we should have seen some kind of development that made sense. Focusing in on Tommy Boy, with the narrative of him being a scab, he says "I'm with ya!", and then joins in with the other newsies to intimidate the other two scabs into joining them. (He also yells "That's right!" in the background). Where is the reaction from the other newsies? Jojo puts an arm around him, but I do not read much into this, as he also has his arm around Henry. Give me emotion, give me 'my friend/probably housemate just stabbed me in the back, and then realised the error of his ways', give me SOMETHING. He is one of the three newsies that Jack trusted enough to give an assignment to, and one of two newsies who agreed - he is clearly an important part of this family.

Kid Blink and Sniper get even less reaction from the other newsies. The newsies are visibly happy when they throw down their papers, but I do not see their reactions as distinct from how they would have reacted if they had been random unnamed scabs. If the intended narrative was that the characters themselves had betrayed their friends, we should have seen a more personal, emotionally charged reaction. However, we simply do not know enough about these characters to draw a conclusion.

Overall, I think it is uncontentious that Tommy Boy did not scab, due to a combination of factors including the official credits, David's apparent terrible memory, and my (possibly misplaced) faith that if his character had scabbed, it would have been handled better. Whether Sniper and Kid Blink scabbed is more difficult to say, due to conflicting credits, and a lack of information about the characters themselves. In my opinion, it makes more sense to say that all three of the actors played two characters: Tommy Boy, Sniper and Kid Blink, and three unnamed scabs.

PS:

Michael Dameski (Tommy Boy)'s scab going from scabbing with Daniel Switzer (Sniper)'s scab to glaring at him and staring him down in the space of thirty seconds is objectively hilarious, whether you think he was still the 'scab' character at that point, or if he had turned into Tommy Boy in that time frame. Top tier, truly elite.

Would love to hear your opinions!

[vilnmelling]

I found an ancestor, guys

So we know about the Jon Matteson family tree (Paul = Richie's uncle, and all of the various headcanons about the other characters Jon plays), but I think Sniper from Newsies might be some ancestor

[newsiesautismfrfr]

Omg babies first post on their new newsies account, hmmmm ask me about my headcanons!! Modern and canon era :3

[spot-conlons-pimp-cane]

here is me figuring out the set up for the one scene in carrying the banner where they are all on the scafolding

top left : tommy boy and elmer

top middle: Jojo and race

top right: kid blink and specs

middle left: Albert and buttons

direct middle/middle middle: crutchie and jack

middle right: smalls and finch

bottom left: Ike and mike

bottom middle: sniper and romeo

bottom right: Henry and mush

now for what they are doing (this is the hard part)

tommy boy is tying his shoe while Elmer is putting his hat on

jojo is adjusting his hat and suspenders and race is putting his vest on

blink is putting on his hat and specs is putting on his suspenders

albert is doing something (wiggling???) with his vest and buttons is combing his hair

crutchie is kinda just there, adjusts his vest, while jack (very aggressively) ruffles his own hair

smalls puts their vest on and finch plays with his rag(??)

mike and Ike both put their vests on then realize they took the wrong hat, so Ike playfully flips mike's to him while mike shoves Ike's hat to his chest

sniper adjusts his clothes and romeo puts his hat on

henry puts his vest on, grabs both him and mush's hats and puts his on then wips mush's around before tossing it in the air and mush catches it

(I have rewatched this specific scene over 25 times in a row to figure this out)

[thatoneandlonelyemo2005]

has anyone ever wonder who was sitting by each other during KONY me too :3

First table with Specs, Skittery and a background Newsie

the next table (in front of Skitterys foot) has Dutchy, Spot, Snitch, and Itey (Better image down below)

then going back to the first photo on right next to skittery is Snoody, Swifty (who you can barley see shhh) and a background Newsie named Trance (i think!!!!!!)

Then at the way back we have Pie Eater and Bumlets, along with Race eating a fucking pickle for no reason-

but main table has Jack and David at the heads (THE FATHER AND MOTHER) Mush next to Jack then Les and Blink across with Boots on his side (or at least Boots comes up to that side)

Jake gets his own table which he is so fr, but I think Sniper sits with him because the next scene Sniper shows up in that area

bonus bc i said so BUT LOOK AT THEM OKAY THE GAYS THEY JUST-INGORE MUSH LOOK AT BUMSWIFTERY

@chaosfairy18 all bc of this post https://www.tumblr.com/leninille/746407303134248960/shitpost-art-to-fight-artblock-yahoo?source=share

[riding-palominos-every-day]

I love making these so much-

(ft. my kibby cats again)

[clevereverest]

Might have a new (to my knowledge) Newsies ship in the making!

I’d love to hear more detailed thoughts in the comments and/or reblogs, and I can try to answer questions about them too!

[mikeandike]

does it ever drive u crazy just how fast the night changes

[buttonsfleas]

I made a part 2!

[jackmkelly]

can you guys watch them for me rq

[just-pot-over-here]

man. my problem is that i’ve been obsessive over newsies for years now, but i’ve only recently gotten into the Newsies Fanwork Sphere, and so the side newsies i’ve built in my head are so insanely different than the accepted fanon versions. for example, here are some ideas that i’m Pretty Sure are not in the general newsies canon? but also i wouldn’t know:

wdym mike and ike are teenagers? they are twins who are 9-10 max.

crutchie race and finch are all the same age (17ish)

sniper is a girl (and/or afab nonbinary depending on how silly i’m feeling)

tommy boy and jojo are german w/ heavy accents

mush is a heavier smoker than race

henry is aromantic (but not ace!)

there’s some romantic tension between elmer tommy boy and jojo. nobody knows what that’s about

race is a pseudo caretaker for the littles. (cooking for them, getting them through wash day, making sure they’re all inside for the night, etc.)

the age order goes jack > henry > mush > crutchie > race > finch > elmer > tommy boy > jojo > romeo > sniper > specs > buttons > mike/ike. where’s kid blink? don’t ask me that i dont know

i cannot see anything else as canon bc i’ve built this little world up in my head for YEARS. help.

[newsies-furry-au]

Relationship Chart

behold my wretched web. im sure ive missed something or other and theres some nuance lost but this gets the basics across i suppose. i didnt mark it all down but i should note that all the newsies do consider each other friends unless stated otherwise. if you wanna know more abt any dynamics or why they are the way they are feel free to send in asks :D

individual layers under the cut, for clarity

[leading-manhattan]

Chapter One | Chapter Two

Actually stepping over the bridge into Brooklyn immediately puts a damper on the jovial atmosphere the boys crafted during their walk over. Nothing changes, not really, but slipping into someone else's territory makes the streets feel much more sinister. His boys were never eager to step foot in Brooklyn on a good day so it doesn't help that any and all alliances Manhattan may have had were certainly on unsettled ground at best. Even Racetrack quiets down, wary eyes flicking this way and that as he tries to keep an eye out for anything that may try to get the drop of them. Jack feels like he's walking to his execution for the third time in the past week and it's a feeling he's really starting to resent. He can't help it, he knows he's not safe here. It would've been nice to feel less like prey. "Keep your heads up, boys," Jack sniffs, eyes scanning every alley they pass. Part of the problem with trying to get to the Brooklyn lodge while it's empty is knowing that in turn all the Brooklyn boys had to still be out on the streets. They could get cornered at any second but Jack would be damned if they came all the way here only to never make it to Spot at all.  

"Are you really that scared of Brooklyn?" Davey glances around at each of them curiously. He'd been to Brooklyn, he'd watched Spot Conlon command a room filled with well over a hundred boys with little more than a way of his hands, but Jack understands that he'd never seen a boy beat by Brooklyn before. There was a healthy intimidation that kept Dave subdued as they walked through the streets but he couldn't understand the spark of fear planted in the rest of their chests. Manhattan and Brooklyn had never been on such poor terms before and Jack really hoped to remedy the relationship between the boroughs before any of his boys got jumped just for being associated with a rat like him.

"It ain't a good idea to be on Brooklyn's bad side." Sniper grumbles. The seasoned newsies pointedly leave it at that. Davey looks like he wants to push, his need to know never sated, but luckily he keeps his trap shut.

They make it to the boarding house without any issue and while that should be a relief it only succeeds in feeding the anxiety curdling in Jack's stomach. His chest constricts and it has nothing to do with his healing ribs. It's unusual how empty the streets are. Regular passersby were still bustling about but there wasn't a newsie in sight as they made their way deeper and deeper into enemy territory. That alone puts Jack even more on edge. Spotting just a handful of newsies here and there, sure, but not a single one? It left a bitter taste in Jack's mouth that screamed at him trap. He shoots a quick look back at Racer as they stop a block or so away from the Brooklyn lodging house and the wariness in Racetrack's eyes and the furrow between his brows confirms that he's just as suspicious as Jack is.

"Theys waitin' for us," Sniper breaks the heavy silence, not tearing his eyes away from the boarding house standing tall and mighty in front of them. Sniper rolls his shoulders back and cracks his knuckles as if he'd have any chance at taking a whole building full of Brooklyn boys. The protective fire burning in his eyes is like a soothing balm over Jack's fraying nerves regardless. He realizes in the safety of his own mind that he hadn't been too sure whether or not they'd find him worthy to defend if things went to shit. It's unfair and illogical and a bunch of other things Davey would say if he shared that thought out loud. He knows they forgave him for what he did but he also knew that despite that plenty of his boys were still harboring some bitterness spawned from his intentional sabotage. Just because they forgave him doesn't mean they wouldn't get some satisfaction out of seeing him knocked around a bit. That was only fair if you asked Jack.

"Must've had a lookout." Albert fidgets, his uncertainty plastered clear across his face alongside his determination.

"If they let us get this far they must want to talk though, right?" Dave interjects hopefully, swallowing thickly as the understanding that they could be in serious danger starts to settle into his bones. Davey wasn't a fighter, not really. He'd throw a punch if he had to but he'd throw it wrong and land it worse. Once they finish this damn strike Jack's gonna have to teach the beanpole how to fight if he's gonna keep handing around a trouble magnet like Manhattan.

"Maybe." Racetrack offers distractedly, eyes narrowed as he stares daggers at the boarding house. "Or theys just wanted us to be in too deep to run." Dave's face pales significantly and Jack reaches over to smack Race on the shoulder. Racetrack shrugs helplessly and Jack sighs. It's not like he's wrong, it's a possibility, but it'd do them no good to psych Dave out before they even stepped through the doors.

"You ain't gotta come with us," Jack turns soft eyes to Davey. Davey who's rushed to Jack's side time and time again to pull him out of the dark. Jack didn't want to see him get hurt again because of something Jack dragged him into and he certainly didn't want Dave to think it was expected of him. Jack didn't want anything between them to feel like an obligation.

Davey looks outright offended at the implication and his hand shoots out to tenderly brush against Jack's, "I'm not going anywhere." He swears, steadfast. Jack melts, a small smile pulling at his lips despite the looming sense of doom that lingers over them.

"Alright sweethearts, let's get this movin'," Racetrack teases earning a snicker from Albert and a smirk from Sniper. The mood lightens for a brief moment and they all share a fond laugh even as Jack reaches over again to gently smack Race upside the head. Jack spots the moment Racetrack realizes he's overstepping, eyes widening and mouth popping open to form a small 'o' when he remembers how Jack had shut down Albert earlier. Still, Dave cracks a smile, hesitant but real.

Dread flares through Jack as he turns back to the boarding house and he hates the genuine fear that bleeds into him the longer he stares. His mind flashes involuntarily to the World and then, worse, that horrible cellar. He suddenly feels so trapped, cornered by predators, even surrounded by the open air out on the streets of New York. His breath hitches and he squeezes his eyes shut against the memories clawing for his attention. God, what's wrong with him, he hasn't even gone inside and he's already losing it. Warmth touches his hand and panic floods through him— who was touching him? Don't, please— until nimble fingers intertwine so softly with his own. Jack's head snaps down and he gapes at the hand holding his own so boldly out in the open like this. His eyes trail up the arm attached until he meets Davey's worried gaze and Dave squeezes his hand reassuringly. It's astonishingly grounding and like magic the haunting memories of the cellar are brushed to the back of his mind. They still writhe, desperate to be acknowledged, but it's so much easier to root himself in the present with Davey's hand clasped in his own. Jack nods curtly and sets his jaw. He slips his hand hesitantly from Davey's before dragging himself forward through sheer force of will. His instincts beg him to get out while he still can but he forces one foot after the other.

There's no resistance as they slip in through the front doors but the second they walk in they're surrounded. The lobby of the Brooklyn lodging is different than the one in Manhattan. First and foremost it's bigger. Not by too much but they house a lot more bodies here and the building was built to accommodate the size of the borough. Aside from that it's furnished with ratty, broken couches clearly taken off the streets scattered around and pressed against the walls. There are dozens upon dozens of boys packed tightly onto the cushions and standing around the room, all dressed in splashes of red with arms crossed to display their muscles. It's a clear threat of what's to come if any of them so much as breathe wrong and Jack is frighteningly aware of how little pull he has here. The best he'd be able to do if things went south was tell his boys to run and even then he doesn't think a single damn one of them would listen to him.

"You gotta lot of nerve showin' up 'round here," Spot's familiar voice cuts through the crowd and Jack easily finds him lounging in the back of the room. Spot's sat on the back of one of the couches, raising him up, and he looks down at Jack with a dark expression, feigning disinterest but painted with licks of flame. Jack expected Spot to be pissed, he had every right to be, but he hadn't expected to be greeted with such a show of hostility and strength. Spot tilts his head, obviously sizing Jack up, and for the first time since his quality time with Snyder and the Delanceys Jack wishes his injuries were more visible. "Clear out," Spot commands. For a second no one moves and Jack thinks that maybe the rest of the Brooklyn boys are just as shocked as Jack himself. Who was he kidding, they had probably just been looking forward to getting their shot in. "Did yous not hear me? Out." Spot growls and promptly sends the room into chaos. Jack forces himself not to flinch as some Brooklyn boys slide past them to head out onto the streets while the rest climb the stairs to relax up in the boarding rooms. Two boys don't move from Spot's side but Spot doesn't even acknowledge them as he watches the rest of his boys flood out of the room. Jack's stomach twists and he swallows back a wave of nausea. It seems that whatever was happening Spot had it planned out from the beginning. What could possibly follow up such a show of power?

It doesn't take long for the room to empty out and the further they get into this mess the more antsy Jack gets. He resists the urge to fidget, keeping his shoulders back and his head high, and latches on to the presence of his boys fanning out behind him. He wasn't alone and he needed to remember that. When it came down to it Jack really didn't think Spot actually wanted to hurt them anyway. He hopes, at least, that the camaraderie they shared before the rally wasn't completely destroyed. Jack's gaze locks with Spot's and the tension in the room steadily increases as the two leaders stare at each other in silence. Jack can see a guarded curiosity in Spot's eyes shrouded by a sheen of anger and betrayal and he allows a tentative hope to take root. He clutches to the idea that he has a chance to turn things back around and undo the damage he's done.

Jack knows that there's no good way for him to start this conversation, whether he apologizes first or once again requests Brooklyn's help he's sure it will set Spot off. Jack steels himself and speaks, "We still need you." He says like it matters, like he has any right to expect Spot to care, and just as Jack suspected Spot's face twists into a sneer.

Spot barks a laugh, "You got some audacity, Kelly, I'll give you that," he snaps as he gracefully slides off the back of the couch and onto his feet. "What's it? See your fight's still goin' without you and now you want back in, huh?" Spot stalks across the floor and despite the height advantage Jack knew that he didn't stand a chance. Immediately, without so much as a warning, a hand lands on Jack's shoulder and yanks him back. Jack can't stop the shocked yelp that slips out but he doesn't have much time to be ashamed about it before Sniper is stepping between him and Spot. Racetrack and Albert swiftly slide up to Jack's sides and Jack's almost positive that if he craned his neck to look Dave would be right at his back. They were boxing him in; shielding him. Spot stops his advance, raising a disbelieving eyebrow and giving a condescending snort, "Usin' your boys as a meat shield now? Fittin'." Jack cringes, shrinking slightly into the safety of the bubble his boys hastily made.

Spot isn't interested in being denied, however, and he's already made it clear that he's thought ahead. They were outplayed from the start and Jack never should have let any of them come with him. Spot clicks his tongue and the two other Brooklyn boys surge forward like trained attack dogs. They cross the room in the blink of an eye and Jack barely has time to scream in protest before Race and Albert are torn away from him. Spot reaches out and yanks Sniper to the side like he weighs nothing and Jack instinctively steps forward to try and catch him when he predictably stumbles. Jack doesn't get the chance, watching helplessly as Sniper tumbles to the floor as two sets of arms circle around his arms and hold him firmly in place. It's a painfully familiar sensation and panic bursts in his chest. The arms holding him are stronger and the boys taller but the hold itself is agonizingly similar to how the Delanceys caught him when he tried to flee Pulitzer's office. Frantically Jack jerks against the restraining grip but they don't so much as budge and he's forced to realize that he was trapped. Again. No.

"Stop! What're you doing!" Davey.

"Don't!" Jack snaps and he doesn't know if he's talking to Spot or Dave. The panic grows and wraps painfully around his chest, tightening until Jack wasn't sure he could breathe. He turns terrified eyes to Spot and he's haunted by the cold detachment that he sees there, "Leave 'em alone, they didn't do nothin', alright?" Jack pleads, pulling against the grip that keeps him from running like the coward he was. It hurts, his bruised shoulder and busted ribs whining at the harsh strain. Spot knew he had fast feet and had quickly eliminated the possibility that he'd flee. It was smart and it was calculated and Jack was scared.

"They're your boys, ain't they?" Spot disagrees, closing the gap between them and crossing his arms. Spot is acting like this is just another one of their casual chats and not the threat that it was. Just one more thing on the growing list of things reminding Jack of his time in Pulitzer's office.

"They didn't know," Jack stressed through gritted teeth, gathering his strength and glaring daggers down at Spot. He has half a mind to try and kick the bastard over but then Spot would beat on his boys just to teach Jack a lesson. This wasn't the Brooklyn leader Jack shared a bond stronger than blood with, this was the Brooklyn leader that earned a reputation of unbeatable violence.

"Ain't a good look for Manhattan," Spot tisks, watching Jack try to wrench himself free with practiced disinterest. Jack growls and tries in vain to get his captors to loosen their grip even just a little. With his arms wrenched up and back like this his shoulder has started to throb with sharp pains and the welts on his back are stretching uncomfortably. When he left, if he left, Jack's sure that all the healing he's been able to do will have been undone. "A good man leads by example. Who's to say all of your boys ain't rats?'

No. Jack gives one final tug, jerking with all his strength against the powerhouses holding him, but it's just as pointless as it was before. Jack sags, panting pathetically from the exertion and the hurt bubbling up like blood across his aching body. Jack throws a quick glance to Sniper frozen partially off the floor. Davey is at his side, holding him up, and they both stare at Jack with worried eyes; Davey's blown wide and Sniper's narrowed darkly. A quick look in the other direction reveals Racetrack and Albert looking for all intents and purposes like they're about to do something stupid.

"Just leave 'em alone, Sean," Jack begs, letting his head fall to his chest in defeat. "Do whatever you want to me but leave them outta it, alright?" Jack swallows convulsively, powerless to keep back the fear that coils up his spine and digs sharp thorns into his skin. He's done this dance before and he still bears the wounds from the beating it earned him. But he'd take a knife for his boys without so much as a thought, what's another round of fists? "Just," Jack gasps, his shoulder is screaming, "Just don't give up on everyone else. This strike is more than me, you knows that. Please." He hates how pitiful he sounds and shame rushes through him to blend with the defeat and terror. It's a vile, curdling concoction that only succeeds in making Jack feel less than human. Humiliated and subdued. Broken.

Jack hears shoes scuff the floor and his head snaps up in time to see Racetrack and Albert rush in. Racetrack lands a solid blow to the cheek of one of the boys holding Jack and Albert tackles the other roughly around the middle. Instinctively the Brooklyn boys release Jack and in turn Jack very nearly collapses. He stumbles and barely manages to catch himself last minute on shaking legs. His shoulder burns and Jack snaps a hand up to cradle it with a pained whine that's drowned out by the scuffle behind him. "Don't—" Jack tries to warn. They couldn't afford to be on worse terms with Brooklyn, they couldn't handle a damn war on top of the strike and Pulitzer and Snyder—

Sniper leaps off the floor and socks Spot right in the face.

The room freezes. One of the Brooklyn boys has Racetrack by the collar of his shirt, fist reeled back and ready to throw a punch while the other is still stuck beneath Albert on the floor. Dave, standing awkwardly to the side, looks like he doesn't know whether to be confused or share in the shock that's turned everyone to stone. Sniper just looks smug, flexing his fingers to try and shake the pain that comes from a well-placed hit. They all stare, transfixed on Spot as he stumbles back and stretches his jaw to test whether or not Sniper fucking dislocate it. Dread burrows itself deep into Jack's very soul. Shit. 

Spot shoots Sniper an appraising look and Sniper only shrinks back a little under his harsh gaze. It's impressive, actually, and under different circumstances Jack would be proud. Spot turns back to the room, still comically paused, and jerks his chin towards the stairs, "Let 'em go. Get outta here." A blatant command for his boys. They only hesitate for a moment but ultimately follow Spot's orders without question. Race fixes his shirt with a scowl the second he's released and Albert is shoved aside easily so the boy beneath him can get up. The leave without a word and Jack can only stare dumbfounded after them as they're left alone in the lobby with Spot.

"What just happened?" Racetrack murmurs, voice impossibly loud in the sudden silence.

Spot snorts, rolls his eyes, and faces Jack. Jack flinches, tightening his hold on his shoulder, and tries to stand tall. He fails, not necessarily unexpectedly but disappointingly, immediately stumbling on uncoordinated limbs. Thankfully Davey appears to have been watching him carefully and rushes to his side to hold him steady. So much for standing strong. "What happened." Spot presses. It's not a question.

"We couldn't have skipped the scare tactics?" Davey hisses bitterly and Jack can feel his hands shaking where they're braced on Jack's arms. It takes Jack a second to decipher what Davey means. Dave's always been the brain between the two of them and Jack's still reeling from the promise of a beating and the plethora of memories it dug up. Scare tactics, Jack thinks dully, feeling so disconnected from himself.

"Yous tryin' to tell me that was a fuckin' test?" Racetrack snaps, all rage in a way that's so jarring coming from an energetic ball of chaos like him.

Spot shrugs, "Not all of it," He admits without remorse, recrossing his arms. Jack's starting to resent his casual air, regardless of whether or not it's projected or genuine, and if he wasn't still trying to catch up with everything happening right now he thinks he'd be furious. "Jackie-boy just doesn't seem like he's doin' too hot and he's a lil' too desperate to be a traitor. Besides, he clearly won you lot over. Last I heard yous was all pissed with 'im too." Spot reasons and this time when Jack forces himself to meet his eyes there's a blatant concern there that Jack didn't realize he needed to see. Spot frowns but offers a soft nod in quiet reassurance. Things weren't fixed but Spot was willing to give him a chance. Jack melts with relief and nearly sends Davey to the floor as he scrambles to accommodate more of Jack's weight. "Sit down, you moron. You's gonna fall." Spot snaps, reaching out to grab him. Jack flinches, eyes wide as he curls closer to Dave. Sniper takes an aborted step forward, fist clenched. Spot pulls back instantly and instead gestures to the nearest couch.

Jack is grateful that Davey helps him stumble over. He's fine, really, but the pains scattered around his torso combined with the beginning of an adrenaline crash have made him a bit weak in the knees. He was already humiliated enough, he didn't need to go tripping over himself. He collapses into the cushions, wincing when the irritated wounds on his back press against the worn back of the couch. Davey waits until he's settled before carefully lowering himself down next to Jack. He's wary of jostling Jack and if it wasn't such a relief after what just happened Jack would've snapped at him to cut it out. He wasn't some fragile creature but he can admit to himself that he'd like a break from all the hurts. Spot is watching him with calculating eyes, not bothering to hide how he's taking in every detail and tucking them away. Spot wasn't dumb. He was a hard ass and an asshole but he was good at what he did. In the background Racetrack helps Albert off the floor and they both scramble over to Jack's side. Sniper lingers back a little longer before ultimately following their lead so they can all form a protective wall between Jack and Spot. Spot raises an eyebrow but doesn't comment.

"The hell happened to you, Kelly?" Spot huffs, clearly not happy at having to repeat himself. At least it sounds like he's asking this time.

Jack sighs, melting into the couch and fighting off the sudden wave of exhaustion that crashes into him. He really wasn't looking forward to this conversation, he never is, but on the other hand he was so glad that the threat of violence wasn't hanging over his head anymore. He was so tired of hurting. "Spyder," He confesses before Spot starts getting irritated. Spot was pretty good at not treating newsies from other boroughs like they were under his leadership but he was still used to a certain brand of respect that got him answers when he wanted them. Usually Jack would be happy to push those buttons but right now he just feels meek and shaken. He doesn't want trouble and he doesn't think he'd survive it if Spot actually hit him right now, emotionally or physically.

Surprise flashes across Spot's face and it's a testament to how raw the shock was by how unfiltered his expression is. Jack can see that it hadn't ever crossed Spot's mind that Snyder could've been involved and that was the genius of it. Pulitzer was a bastard but he was a bastard who knew what he was doing. Spot was well acquainted with Snyder's affinity for Jack and just what that could mean for the young borough leader. "I'ma need you to give me more than that if yous gonna ask for my help again."

"I know." Jack murmurs bitterly, glaring up at the ceiling. There are water stains and odd dips and he counts them to give himself some more time to compose himself. He hates how often he's felt the need to pick up the pieces recently. He started this strike bright-eyed and self-assured, leading a crowd of boys with the spirit of a fighter. They haven't even won and it feels like the life has been pried forcefully out of him. He's a husk of what he was marching on not for himself but for the people that look to him for guidance. Jack lets his eyes drift closed and he focuses intently on the warmth of Davey's body beside him. He starts the same way he always does, "I was stupid. Got cocky before the rally, guess I was ridin' that high." He scoffs a laugh lacking of any humor. He can only look back on his actions with resentment now. He was so stupid. "Stormed into the World to rub the strike right into Pulitzer's face. I wanted him to feel as trapped as he made us. I wanted the bastard to know we was comin' for 'im and that he couldn't do a damn thing about it." Jack snarls, old fury coming back with a vengeance. He had been so smug in his righteousness and Pulitzer struck him down with the ease of a man truly powerful. Jack was just a poor imitation, nothing in comparison. "I was wrong. Old man had Snyder in his pocket and the Delanceys on his payroll. I couldn't get out and he said if I didn't call off the strike then he'd round up as many newsies as he could and cart 'em off to the Refuge."

Spot wasn't stupid. "And theys beat the shit outta you." It's a statement, not a question.

"And theys beat the shit outta me." Jack agrees miserably. He fucking hurts and Spot's warm welcome made the dull aches turn to angry throbs. He really had been healing up pretty well after being kept up on the roof for a few days and while he knows it's not true it feels like all that progress has been stripped away in the past twenty minutes. "Fuck," He breathes, leaning pitifully into Davey. Dave tenses immediately, his whole body winding up tight, and Jack grunts to make his displeasure known.

"You can relax, Mouth," Spot chuckles and Jack imagines he's smirking.

Davey's still coiled with tension beneath him and Jack reaches over to poke him in the side. "He knows, he's cool." Jack huffs, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice. Brooklyn was a rough place but they had no room to judge when it came to boys kissing boys. It was hard to have this many kids under one roof and not have some queers mixed in with the rest of the lot.

Racetrack and Albert are snickering again at Davey's expense and when Jack cracks an eye open to kick out at them he spots a small grin on Sniper's face too. Dave sharply exhales, some of the unease bleeding out of him and ultimately making him a much better pillow, "That would've been nice to know beforehand, you know." He bites but it lacks any real hostility as he raises an arm to curl comfortingly around Jack's shoulders. He avoids putting any pressure on Jack's bruised shoulder with practiced ease, days of forcing Jack to let himself be cared for giving Dave all the experience he needs to avoid pressing on any especially painful injuries.

Jack snorts, tilting his head to shoot Dave a shit-eating grin, "Sorry, didn't really expect it to come up." He really hadn't. Regardless of how this confrontation went Jack fully expected it to be all business. He definitely hadn't been planning for leaning so heavily on Davey out in the open at the Brooklyn lodgings. A part of Jack assumed that after something as big as what he'd done that his connection with Spot would be severed for good. He was immensely grateful that it seemed he was wrong. If nothing else Spot was willing to listen and Jack could work with that.

"Alright, you pests, move." Spot slinks forward and tries to wave Jack's boys away.

"What, Spotty, ain't happy to see me?" Racetrack teases, stepping closer to Sniper and making their human barricade even tighter.

"Can it, Higgins," Spot snaps and Jack can hear the annoyance starting to trickle into his tone.

"Stop. It's fine, we's good." Jack interjects before someone tries to hit Spot again. Spot could respect a good punch but Jack sincerely doubts he'd be willing to just take another blow. Jack would prefer if they all headed back to Manhattan in relatively one piece.

Reluctantly Albert grips Sniper's arm and pulls him to the side and Racetrack retreats to the opposite end of the couch. Jack's touched by their desire to stay close, unwilling to abandon Jack to an unknown fate with someone who had mere moments ago been so willing to tear him apart. Spot doesn't look like he cares that they're still here and instead just erases the distance between them. Slowly Spot reaches out and takes Jack by the chin, tilting his face this way and that, brows furrowed. "You alright?" He asks, tilting Jack's head back like he expects to find something on his throat or hidden just beneath his collar.

Jack grunts, pulling his face away and batting at Spot's probing hands, "Fine." He insists, disgruntled.

"He's full of shit," Race chirps without missing a beat.

"Theys got 'im good," Albert agrees, much more reserved, "Couldn't even get up the fire escape."

"Hey!" Jack cries. He wants to refute that but he'd only gotten down the fire escape just fine. He had been well aware that going up wouldn't go over well for him, even just the ladder up to the roof had been too much for him during those first couple of days. "That was then, this is now. I'm alright, honest. Just sore." He meant it. His definition of alright might not align with theirs but he could breathe easier and had almost a full range of motion back in his shoulder, that was pretty damn good if you asked him.

"He's better," Davey concedes, "Not in top shape yet but we've been taking care of him." It was an honest answer and Dave confidently meets Spot's eyes when Spot turns to look at him. Spot nods, satisfied, and leans back.

"So, what crazy plan you got this time?" Spot hums. Warmth floods through Jack in response and he pushes away from Davey with a low groan. His ribs weren't happy with the roughhousing and the strain there only added to the ever-present agony resonating from his back and shoulder. Christ, what Jack wouldn't give for a hot bath right now.

"Katherine wrote up an article. A call to action, not just for the newsies, but for every workin' kid bein' overworked and underpaid by this damn city. 'Course Pulitzer gots a ban on printin' anything about the strike." Jack leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees to keep himself from falling over. Spot's eyes sharpen and Jack knows that he has his full attention. "Thing is, when Pulitzer had Snyder and them work me over theys brought me down to the basement of the World, right?" Spot's eyes narrow and Jack knows this time that the fury isn't directed towards him but rather the bastards that dared to drag him around like a piece of property and lay their hands on him like they had a right. That's one of the great things about having Spot in your corner. A lot of people would think Jack insane if he dared say it out loud but Spot Conlon cared even if he had a very peculiar way of showing it. A sharp grin cuts across Jack's features and with it a spark of his old mischief comes to life inside of him, "Well, you see, he's got an ol' printin' press down there he ain't using."

"Oh, you got balls, Kelly," Spot barks a laugh but the smile that settles onto his face is deadly. "Usin' Pulitzer's own press to bring 'im down? How could I say no to that?"

"You in?" Jack blinks, hope tentatively spawning beneath his ribs. He needs to confirm. He needs to know for certain before he starts getting excited but the idea that they still had a chance is too intoxicating to just cast aside. Dave's hand slides into his own and Jack latches onto it as tightly as he could. It feels like Jack and his boys are waiting with bated breath. They just might be but Jack doesn't dare check.

Spot's eyes soften and Jack knows the answer before it even leaves his mouth, "I'm in."

[behold-the-brave-battalion-17]

Smalls: Who is the prettiest out of all of us?

Sniper: You.

Jack: Davey.

Davey: Jack.

Race: Spot.

Spot: Race.

Crutchie: Me.