Oscar Delancey walked through the dimly lit streets of Manhattan, whistling softly as his older brother Morris stuck close beside him, his eyes darting around nervously as he clutched his empty newspaper bag tightly. The two brothers had just finished an average day of selling newspapers and beating up other newsies, and were anxious to get back home. Well, The World wasn't really a home, but it was the closest things the two brothers had to one.

"Morris, quit your worryin'! We'll be back at The World soon enough," Oscar chastised the older Delancey, rolling his eyes when Morris jumped at a small sound that had come from the alleyway right next to them. Morris swallowed nervously before clinging closer to his brother, even going as far as to grab his shirt sleeve.

"Easy for you to say! You ain't got jumped out here yet, and I ain't gonna let it happen!" Morris hissed, and Oscar had to bite back his anger and resist the urge to yell at his older brother. Morris was only a year older than Oscar, but he still acted like Oscar was a little kid.

"I'd be fine if I was jumped! You's taught me everything there is to know 'bout fightin'!" Oscar said, nudging his brother in the side and grinning when Morris' face turned a bright shade of red. He loved poking at his brother's pride, whether in a good way or a bad one, because both reactions were always priceless.

"How much did Wiesel pay ya today? Beat down any newsies in particular?" Morris quickly asked, knowing his face probably resembled a cherry and wanting to change the subject. Oscar's smile faded at the mention of the newsies and he looked down at his feet, scuffing at the pavement with one of his worn out shoes. Morris stared at his younger brother in concern, but decided not to say anything when Oscar forced his signature smirk back on his face and continued walking.

"I took down that Specs kid, and the new guy. What's his name... Davey! That's it," Oscar replied with a chuckle. "Wiesel gave me two bucks a piece. Not much, but we's could get some dinner tonight with it," Oscar said, looking up slightly at his companion with pride. Morris smiled and ruffled the younger boy's hair, letting out a laugh when Oscar growled in protest and tried to neaten his hair again. He slung an arm around Oscar's shoulders affectionately.

"You know, why don't I buy dinner tonight? We can-" Morris cut off short and whirled around to face the dark streets behind them, keeping a wary hand on Oscar's shoulder. He ignored the younger's concerned calls of his name and observed the streets. All remained quiet, but Morris saw a flicker of movement under one of the farther lamp posts. His breath caught in his throat as he remembered what he and Oscar called it. He gripped his brother's shoulder tighter.

"We need to go. Now," Morris commanded, and Oscar didn't hesitate. The two boys broke out into a sprint, running as fast as they could away from whatever had made a move in the dark. Morris bit back a scream as he heard heavy, pounding footsteps and several voices shouting. He would not let it happen again, not to his brother! Morris didn't care what happened to him, as long as Oscar was safe! So that's why Morris stopped in the middle of the streets and turned, his face paling in horror as he saw three tall, obviously adult figures advancing towards him.

"Morris, what the hell are you doin'?!" Oscar shouted behind him. "JUST RUN, OSCAR!" Morris merely yelled in reply, getting into a fighting stance, making his best attempt at looking threatening. It would have worked on another boy. Heck, it usually worked on adults! But these three ragged, hunched, leering men were hardened by the streets, unaffected at the meek pretenses of a teenage boy.

Before Morris could tell what was going on, one of the three men pounced, tackling him to the ground and stabbing at him with a wicked knife. Morris screamed in agony as the blade sunk deep into the soft flesh of his stomach, and he tried to shove the man off of him, kicking and punching, even using his brass knuckle for all that it was worth. The man on top of him was unfazed, and stabbed again, and again, and again. The other two watched, sometimes even laughed when Morris let out a particularly horrible scream, and would kick him harshly when he became too much trouble.

Morris was gasping, his eyes blown wide and filled with tears. The pain in his chest and stomach was so intense he couldn't scream, he couldn't breathe, and he could only lay limply as his attackers had their way with him. They tore through his clothes, finding anything of value that he had before leaving Morris on the streets to bleed out and die. Morris closed his eyes, letting the tears roll down his cheeks for the first time in years. At least it wasn't happening again. At least Oscar was safe... Morris coughed violently and blood bubbled up out of his mouth and down his chin, leaving a thick, red trail from his mouth to his shirt collar. He faintly heard a bloodcurdling scream and he gasped, turning as best as he could to face the direction his brother had gone.

"O...scar..." Morris croaked weakly, more hot tears spilling onto the bloodstained pavement around him. He could see his brother running towards him, his already pale face even more drained of color than usual and an expression of pure horror on his face. Morris moaned in pain when Oscar knelt by his side and tried to pull his head into his lap, his entire body shaking with fear.

"Oh God... Oh God, what do I do?!" Oscar sobbed, his pants damp with his older brother's blood. Morris tried his best to smile up at the younger Delancey, gripping one of his hands tightly in his own. He tried to say something, but all that came out was a garbled grunt. Oscar was crying, crying so hard that his whole body was shaking. The tears dripped down on the pavement, on Morris' face, and on the pavement. Oscar knew what he had to do. It was something he and his brother had sworn to never do, but it was the only way that Morris would live. Oscar gently set Morris' head back down before getting up and dragging him over to the side of a building, propping him up as best as he could.

"I-I'm gonna go get help, okay Morris? A doctor or somethin'... I'll be back. I ain't leavin' you here," Oscar choked out. Morris looked up at him and nodded weakly, his hand going up to press against his wound in an attempt to stem the blood flow. Oscar held back a sob and sprinted off into the night, praying for the first time in his short life that his brother would be okay.