In Between 'Hattan and Brooklyn || A Sprace Story

Chapter 85 - Sling'll be Slung from Existance

- Chapter 85 - Such a terrible title name haha, but I couldn't come up with any others because I'm #tired -
Warnings: use of stupid hashtags and jokes (by Stage only tho lol), mentions of blood, yelling, fighting, betrayal, bad pasts, anxiety, bad injuries
Third Person POV

Specs paced back and forth. "It doesn't make sense," he muttered, thinking hard. "None of it makes sense."

Rags's eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Specs stopped and looked at him. "All of this."

Rags tilted his head, waiting for Specs to explain.

"Race was kidnapped on Brooklyn turf, leaving Sling with a nasty head injury," Specs started, repeating information Rags already knew. "Sling has no idea what happened, but he remembers everything else just find." He started pacing again.

"Short term amnesia," Rags reminded Specs. "It's a very real thing that happens when you're hit hard in the head."

Specs shook his head. "I know that, but his story isn't adding up," he responded. He stopped again and faced Rags, staring into his eyes. However, he was clearly lost in his thoughts.

For a moment, Rags was wondering if he should get someone else. Specs was really starting to concern him.

"He said he was knocked out first when he woke up, then he changed his story to say that he remembered seeing Race get taken," Specs said, staring down at his hands as they shook. "I- and- and his injury wasn't even bad enough to induce amnesia. I'm sorry, but it wasn't."

Rags's eyebrows furrowed. "Specs, what are you saying?" he asked, quietly, not sure he was understanding.

"With the fact that it was set up to look like the drunks who are usually in those alleys took Race and knocked out Sling..." Specs trailed off, falling back into deep thought.

Rags sat there in shocked. "Specs... you don't mean-" he started slowly.

"Sling's in on this," the two boys realized together.

In another room

"I don't understand."

"Do you ever understand things, Spot?" Jack questioned bitterly, his arms crossed. "Because you seem to say that a lot."

Spot gritted his teeth. "Don't you question me in my borough, Jack Kelly," he snapped.

Jack took a step back, realizing how angry Spot was. "Sorry, I'm sorry."

Spot pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. "It's fine." He sighed, sounding like it was anything but fine. "I just- Bandit is a good kid."

Jack raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you defending the kid who likely took Race?" he questioned.

Spot's head snapped up, his piercing glare staring at Jack. "Bandit didn't do it, Jack," he told him. "I know him. I know he's not like that."

"Really, Spot?" Jack shook his head in disbelief. "Someone in Brooklyn sold Race out and helped them take him. Is it the kid who's super close to Race or the kid who acts like he hates him?" he questioned.