Newsies Oneshots 2.0

Cops and Robbers-Spralbert

So, the last request I'm trying to write isn't done yet, but I can't stand not updating this (especially since I'm running out of convo topics for the Chat-Fic lol).

Enjoy!

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Spot didn't necessarily encourage theft. He often advised his boys not to do it, knowing it could get them in more trouble with the police, more than they already are. It didn't seem like it on the outside, but he wasn't that kind of person. He was careful, and calculated his choices.

Unfortunately for him, that can't explain why he joined Albert and Race in an act of stealing a pack of cigars.

At first, he denied, letting them know how stupid it was to even think about doing such a thing. He was absolutely appalled, and it took everything in him not to strap both of them to a chair. But Race's big blue eyes and Albert's smile are too great to resist, which explains why he's hiding behind a wall and staring at Race's dealer.

He sighed disappointedly, wanting to get this over with. "Why is I here?"

"'Cause", Race whispered, shrugging. His eyes were focused on his guy, Charlie, who was making another deal with some other guy. He was more than pissed at the seemingly normal guy, and Race isn't upset often.

Charlie thought it would be a good idea to take a few cigars out of Race's tin, and the blonde was beyond furious upon finding out. He'd originally asked Jack and Davey to start another strike, but they denied and eventually got Race to calm down. That didn't stop him, though.

He asked Albert—who was far too quick to agree to robbing someone he didn't know—and made up his plan. They quickly ran to Brooklyn and convinced Spot to join, Race leading them both here to Charlie's selling spot.

Spot rolled his eyes. "Why ain't we just buyin' what he owes you? Report him, out him. This is stupid, Racer."

Albert and Race shushed him, the king of Brooklyn furrowing his brows in offense. "It ain't the same", Albert explained vaguely, Spot squinting at their stupidity.

"Yeah! If I was gonna just buy more from the guy, it's defeatin' the purpose", Race continued, using the words he remembered from his conversation with Davey on the topic of the strike. He hadn't understood it at first, and he supposed Spot didn't understand this. "I gotta hit him with his pocket book."

Spot and Albert nodded, agreeing with the incorrect saying, and continued watching, seeing Charlie wave goodbye to his customer. The three of them pulled masks onto their faces, running up to the brunette man and shaking him down. "Gimme my cigars!"

"What-" Charlie was met with the threat of Albert's fist—Spot wasn't going to allow the kid to just start throwing punches; they needed probable cause—and and angry look, despite half of his face being covered. Spot stood beside Race intimidatingly, letting the blonde do all the talking. "Who, who are you?"

"Someone ain't to be messed with", Race stated confidently, arms crossed angrily. He placed a foot on his dealer's chest, not pressing hard enough to kill, but enough to terrify. "I want my cigars, Charles."

The man breathed erratically, his face contorted into one of terror. Race would later bask in the memory of a grown man being terrified of three fifteen year olds, but right now he had business. "What, what do you want? I'll give you anything!"

"What is you, stupid?" Albert sighed frustratedly, shaking his head. He wondered how someone doing something as dangerous as selling cigars he obviously didn't own in broad daylight could be such a scaredy-cat. "He just told you! Give the man his cigars."