1950's Hollywood: the Land of Dreams, where the Little Man can hit it big and become a Star.

Oh, the silly little dream they'd all been sold. No, he's come to learn that, in his months of nothingness, this well-oiled machine is, in fact, rigged.

Camera operators whiz past him, barking orders and checking lenses. The grips fill the room with haze to let the spotlights shine.

Jack's knuckles bleed white from holding his folded-up newsies cap in a vice-like grip. He feels utterly and completely useless. "Are ya sure there's nothing I can do? Rehearse my lines, maybe?"

He's waved off by the barely-listening crew. He'll be fine.

"I dunno, I just can't help but feel the jitters, or something." Jack emits a nervous chuckle, hands wringing and leg twitching up and down.