"I'll help you beat up that jerk if you let me a place here with you."

"Wh...wh...what j...j...j...jerk?"

"The one that keeps comin' by here. He ain't that tough. And I'll help you sell all those stacks if you do. I ain't want nothin' but a piece of profit from it. Don't want my own thing, you see?"

"Wh...wh...why n...not?"

"'Cause if we work together, we can do more. Plus, I'll watch your back and you can watch mine too."

Butters had his right hand up to his brow, blocking the bright midday sun as he looked up at Cocoa. The darker skinned kid was the taller of the two by a few inches. He was also the elder of the pair, three years separating the young entrepreneurs.

The blonde haired Butters scrunched up his nose as he mulled over the proposition, his squinted eyes darting everywhich way as his young mind worked out the logistics. One, he'd be safer. Two, they'd get more done. Seemed to make sense to the innocent kid, not once pondering what the catch may be, if any. He wasn't slow, not at all. He just didn't seem to care too much about certain things. His parents thought him always being off in his own world was a mental deficiency of some sort but math really clicked with him at school so they started him out as a paperboy to earn money in these tough times.

"Deal?" Cocoa knew that look, which meant he'd brought his mark to the point of having no reason not to accept his proposal. And why shouldn't he? He made sure it was a winning situation for both, just like his father had taught him. They'd lived quite a prosperous life back in Greenwood District, Tulsa, before the race massacre forced them to move. His family had investments in the thriving business district and his father was one of the many thousands of African-American's detained in the aftermath, held captive for 8 days before being released. But even after losing everything, including many family and friends to the white rioters, Cocoa was taught to treat all as he'd himself like to be treated. Seeing Butters being bullied by others was what really had him here, the business opportunity just a means to an end.

Cocoa spat on his hand and offered it forward. Butters did the same and slapped down hard on his new friend's open palm, "Deal!"

The two worked well together. Charles Buke would give Butters the bundles of newspapers upon upfront payment that the two would then sell at a spot on North Christopher Columbus Boulevard, just before the turn into Race Street. The duo would take work either side of the street to make sure the Philadelphia Inquirer made it into as many moving hands as possible, no matter which way they came or went once turning down the Boulevard. It wasn't the busiest corner in Old City District but that wasn't the point. The point was, when push came to shove in this dog eat dog world, it was all about location, location, location, but not for reasons you might expect.

The soft shimmer of the sun bouncing off the Delaware whenever Simon glanced towards the pier meant they'd have about an hour left to move their goods on. They'd stay all night if they had to but both he and Joshua would rather their working day finished sooner rather than later. With the disappearing daylight, the shadows brought out another side of the city they would rather not see as they'd still have to make their treks home. Being so close to Race Street Pier was great, though. It allowed them to toil away without too much fuss given who ran it, as working so close to certain types meant other certain types wouldn't prey on them. Not during the day, anyways. After dark though the rules seemed to change the further away from the pier they ventured.

"H...h...hotel f...f...f...fire! Th...th...th...three d...d...dead!" Simon blurted out as loud and quickly as he could, turning his attention back to those passing on the sidewalk. A loose strap on his overalls flapped about as he anxiously paced back and forth, his shaggy blonde hair covered most of his view but it too flickered with his quickened steps, offering glimpses of people coming in and out of his immediate vacinity. His worn brown boots scuffed underfoot as he changed directions, the untied shoelaces kept groundward by the cuffs of his long raggedy pants.

"Hotel fire in New Jersey! Three dead! Bad men connected!" Joshua sang back from across the street as he too picked up the pace, knowing full well what it could mean if they didn't distribute all that were purchased. His clothes mirrored Simon's more or less with slight variations in colours, brands and wear and tear. The two were thick as thieves since meeting all those months ago. Besides their differing skin colors and Simon's peach blonde hair and stutter, they looked and acted more or less like an odd set of twins. As much as they could, they dressed the same and said the same rehearsed headlines aloud to passers-by. Usually it was Joshua standing out among the crowds but at least with Simon he felt like his darkened skin didn't matter. And to Simon, it really didn't. He had an ignorance about him that was blissful to the extent he didn't even realize people found his stutter to be a thing, because he didn't even know he had one. But, some did.

"Butters!" Came an abrupt voice. He knew who it was and immediately shrunk, his shoulders slumping forward as the days paper and his once flailing arm dropped to his side. He stood there completely still as the man continued calling out a name as he approached.

"Butters, Butters, Butters! Where's? Ah! There he is."

A whistle rang out behind a pointed finger towards Joshua, who was already trying to make his way over Race Street through the late afternoon traffic. He'd sensed the shady character, almost smelt him, before the voice announcing his presence boomed out.

"Cocoa, glad you could join us!"

"Don't call me Cocoa." Joshua shot back as he came to stand at Simon's side, crossing his arms that were free of any newspapers. He'd ditched the last five or so in a bush as soon as he saw Sammy approaching. He was early and not where they'd usually meet but that argument wouldn't matter. He was only here for one thing.

"I've sold all the bundles."

"Not all."

Sammy, who was looming wide legged before them, pointed to a short stack of folded newspapers near where Simon had frozen stiff and who hadn't yet found the courage to utter a word. He was oblivious to alot of things, most people's faults, yet a solid open hand to the face he couldn't forget. Joshua tried his best to defend him that day but ended up with more than his share for his troubles. Still, he was taught to always stand his ground, no matter what.

Sammy spat on the sidewalk then stuck a toothpick back between his blackened teeth. He looked no wealthier than the boys he was extorting, maybe even less given they at least tried to look decent and businesslike. If they could afford to, they'd dress as sharp as the men and women they'd constantly catch glimpses of over at Race Street Pier. They admired them from afar and talked openly with each other as to wanting to be as flashy and well made as they were. Joshua had a rough idea what that meant and his tough attitude was his best guess at an emulation. 

"You know, you can't do this to us!" Joshua fired out defiantly with an upward tilted chin, flexing his crossed arms tight against his chest.

"Oh no?"

Butters knew what was coming. He was still present, just scared to move. He knew the arrogant tone which came before the last beating when they didn't sell out of all their newspapers. At first, when Sammy had convinced them he'd start paying the upfront costs and buy them more to move, it seemed like a good deal. He seemed like a good man, too. But as soon as they didn't completely sell out, that's when it all changed, when he changed. Vendors didn't buy back anything not sold, so it was of course at a loss to the buyer if their convenience and the news of the day went underappreciated. They didn't imagine it would be this bad though.

Joshua could see it coming too. But he didn't care. He'd rather take a beating than cower. Sammy drew his hand back, the distaste of someone standing up to him glistenning in his eyes. And with a sickening thud, a blow hit right where it was intended.

For a moment a silence dropped over the corner. Vehicles had already stopped and people had long been giving them a wide berth. Any birds that were still present had scattered with the thundering sound of the strike. Joshua blinked, his jaw agape, as Sammy dropped to the hard ground falling face first, causing the shocked newsboy to quickly react and tackle his business partner out of the way. The pair hit the dusty sidewalk not quite as hard, but not unharmed, Simon feeling the effects of minor whiplash as he sat up with Joshua rubbing at one of his bloodied grazed knees as he stood himself up too.

While removing the brass knuckles from his favoured right hand, Nick Scarfo stepped over Sammy's unconscious body. He wasn't one to strike from behind or the side but he also wasn't one to let kids be beat on by men either. After tucking away the fist-loaded weapon, Nick reached his hand out to Simon.

"Come on, kid. Let's get you up."

Joshua, who'd already dusted himself off, helped Simon to his feet with the help of Nick, whom he was still looking at with a mix of shock and admiration.

Simon rubbed the back of his neck as he looked uncomfortably at Nick.

"You alright, kid?"

The two just looked at their coincidental hero, one apparently in pain and the other in awe, neither saying a thing.

Nick smiled, then nodded as he tipped his fedora forward and turned to leave. Joshua snapped himself out of his daze with a shake of the head, his curly black hair wobbling from side to side, then reached out and quickly tugged on Nick's knee length overcoat.

"Wait!" Joshua said, his heart pounding.

Nick turned and looked at Simon who was still just silently squinting and rubbing the back of his neck, then at Joshua who slapped his arm around his buddies shoulder.

"I'm Joshua Johnson. This is Simon Chapman. They call me Cocoa because I'm black, but I don't like it. They call him Butters because he stutters. He doesn't seem to mind much. We work here hustling the corner. Some days are good. Some days not so much. We sell newspapers."

"Newsies." Nick cut in, smirking. He found the boy's rambling endearing.

"Yes, sir!"

Joshua squeezed tight his grip over Simon's shoulder, who scrunched up his nose. 

"We see you down there, at Race Street Pier. It ain't like the other piers down this way off the Boulevard. It's nicer. It has more coming and going than any other."

"Yes it is and yes it does, so..."

Before Scarfo could prompt him for his point, Simon preempted it and cut in.

"W...w...w...we...wa...wan't yo...your...pr...pr...pr...pro...t...t...tection."

Nick was now smiling at the two before him. He paused, glanced at Sammy who was still out cold off to the side, their eyes following his. All three looked at the extortionist's body for a moment. Nick could see their dilemma. He removed his fedora yet before he could respond he noticed out of the corner of his eye a packet of cigarettes being offered to him from Joshua, causing him to turn back quizzically and pat his coat pocket with his free hand. They weren't there.

"Please, sir. There are more like him."

"Yes... Yes... there are." Nick said surprised, not yet one hundred percent the kid was that quick and able.

"How did you..."

Simon and Joshua flashed bright grins simultaneously. Both the innocence in Simon's eyes and the mischievousness in Joshua's exaggerated expression shone through clear as day. And to Nick, as he slapped his fedora playfully on Joshua's head, it was crystal clear he had found two new acquaintances. And that he really had no choice.

"Alright, first things first." Nick said as he swiped back his packet of smokes, eyeing the two over. They'd definitely need new clothes at some point.

"You wear your weaknesses like a badge of honour so no-one can use them against you."

"Wh...wh...what...we...we...weak...ne...ne...ness..."

"Exactly!" Joshua exclaimed with a pat on Simon's back.

Nick placed an unlit smoke between his lips and dug his hand into his coat pocket. Butters really didn't know what he meant, scrunching up his nose and rubbing his head as Joshua offered Nick his lighter back, his whipper-snapper grin partly showing under the fedora which was too large for his head.

"From now on, you'll be known as Cocoa and Butters." Nick said with a wink, swiping his lighter back and sparking the lucky strike.