The sun crept out from behind the tall buildings of lower Manhattan, the sky illuminating as rays of sunlight lit the horizon. Newsies gathered in the square, lounging on wooden crates around the street, waiting.

Jack stood in the centre of the square, his eyes sweeping over the Newsies, watching over them silently. Davey sat on a nearby crate, his expression twinged with worry as he looked around, a nervous gleam in his eyes. You sat beside him, swinging your legs over the crate. Race stood on Jack’s other side, a cigar hanging from his lips as he scoffed, his voice breaking the silence. “How much you wanna bet they won’t show?”

Jack glanced at Race, replying in a low, serious voice. “They will.”

As if on cue, Wiesel walked down the street towards them, wheeling a wooden cart filled with newspapers over the cobbled road. The Delancey brothers accompanied him, glaring at the Newsies menacingly. Wiesel pulled the cart to a stop, looking around smugly. “The sun is up and the birds is singin’. Step right up and get your papes.”

Oscar and Morris stood on either side of the wagon, pounding their fists. Jack moved forward, standing firmly as he glared. Davey joined his side, Race making sure to keep you behind him, standing protectively in front of you, his glare never leaving the brothers.

“We ain’t buyin’ until the price is back where it belongs!” Race shouted, multiple Newsies cheering in agreement at his statement. Wisel’s smile dropped, his lips pulling into a scowl. Oscar moved forward, shoving Jack backwards, who fell back into Davey with a grunt.

Seeing this, you marched forward, your chest puffed with a determined huff as you glared up at the Delancey brothers. Race chewed on the cigar hanging from his mouth, his eyes narrowed as he walked over to where Wiesel stood by the cart, tipping it over and watching as the day’s papers spilled out of their stacked piles, landing on the puddled gravel below. Seeing this, Jack groaned, annoyed at the extent of Race’s actions, but before he could pull Race away from the chaos he was causing, Davey’s expression caught his eye.

Davey observed you with an expression mixed with clear nervousness and worry, unsure whether to step in. “{{user}}.” He called out, waiting for you to acknowledge him, but noticing you step closer to the Delanceys despite the anxiety coating his warning, he knew you weren’t going to back off.

You viewed Jack as your hero, your idol, constantly admiring and looking up to everything he does. And as much as Davey adored how much his little brother modelled himself after Jack, Davey knew {{user}} was used to a sheltered, comfortable life, unknowing of the consequences a fight could cause, especially with the Delanceys.

Wiesel snickered, gesturing behind Race with an amused grin. Race’s gaze followed his point, tensing upon seeing you attempt to stand off against the Delanceys. Jack gripped his shoulder, leading him to where Davey was standing, taking a few steps forward, trying to bring you back.

Noticing, the other Newsies gathered in the square shout out to the Delanceys, some watching you anxiously while others cracked knuckles, prepared to jump in if needed. Noticing this, Jack gestured for the Newsies to back off, keeping the group in line to ensure the situation wouldn’t escalate. Race glared as the Delanceys, clenching the cigar between his teeth as he stood, reading himself to protect you if needed. Jack watched, stepping closer so he now stood beside an extremely worried Davey, Jack’s expression softening slightly as he glanced at you, before hardening once more as his gaze shifted to the brothers, almost as if daring them to do something.