Audience P.O.V

Spot twirled his key in his fingers, studying it closely. He lay on his bunk, staring intently at the silver key. He had found it about a few months ago, just before Jack had come to him for help with the strike. It glimmered as the sun shone on it, making it look mysterious.

He had found it lying on the ground one evening. It looked pretty cool, so he tied a string around it and wore it as a necklace. It gave him this mysterious bad boy look, which he seemed to have a knack for. Smiling, he let it fall back on his chest and he closed his eyes, drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

Back at the Dungeon

The sun blinded my vision as I opened my eyes to be greeted by its bright beams of light. I blocked my eyes with my hand and stretched, looking around. I was sitting on a small pile of hay that I had gathered up a few days ago. I pushed myself to my feet and dusted off my long dirty, red skirt. My once pearly white shirt was as dirty as the dungeon, making me groan.

Where are they? I thought to myself. Today would be day five. They couldn't have lost the key; they had two for crying out loud! I could still hear my uncle's voice echoing through my head:

"Now Sage, this is for your own good. This isn't meant to hurt you, but it is meant to teach you a lesson."

He said that everyday, trying not to laugh at my unbelieving face. He said my name with disgust when he said it, making me shudder. Everyday his voice became more familiar, even if he wasn't here to piss me off.

"Hello? Anybody here?" I cried out. Not that anybody would hear me, but you never know. Not to my surprise, I heard no reply. I rubbed my head and sniffed, trying to forget the pain in my back from having to lie on the hard cold ground.

This was useless, I was going to die down here whether I wanted to or not. I wiped away some tears that had escaped my eyes, my vision becoming blurry. I couldn't help it; you'd cry too if you knew you were going to die from starvation in a matter of days.

I sat back down and let the remaining tears fall.

Audience P.O.V

Spot quickly raced through Brooklyn, the policeman hot on his trail. It was dark now, easier for him to get away. He slipped through the crowded streets quickly, ducking under their legs to get by. The policeman pushed the people out of his way, trying to reach the Brooklyn leader.

Spot laughed as the man tripped on some crates. It was a hysterical site, the old fat man tumbling over a bunch of crates. He jumped back to his feet and growled, running at Spot with full speed. Spot turned back around and started running again, knocking a few people over in the process.

The cop screamed, "You good for nothing street rat, I'll get ya!" Spot laughed and slipped down an alleyway. He stuck his cane out as the policeman ran by, causing him to trip falling flat on his face. Spot laughed at his on trick and ran past the cop, running down a random street. He swiftly ran passed children and other newsies, cheering him on.

Without even noticing where he was going, he found himself lost. Before him stood some kind of abandoned building. He glanced behind him to find he had out run the chubby old man. Spot smiled to himself and turned back to the building. Why did he have the sudden urge to go in? He moved his feet, like he was in a trance. Was something pulling him towards it? Or had he finally lost his mind? Or maybe he was possessed. Spot laughed at himself, yeah right. Possessed.

He reached out to the doorknob. As his fingers came in contact he had a slight shudder. Wait. The king of Brooklyn doesn't shudder. Spot rolled his eyes and yanked the door open. He walked through, curiously scanning the room. There were a few boxes here, a few boxes there. It wasn't really clean, and it stank horribly. He walked in further, twirling his cane in his hand.

Something instantly caught his eye. A trap door? He raised his eyebrows and squatted down. Slowly, he pulled the door open by a string. Odd, it wasn't really noticeable. A staircase led underneath the building to only God knows what. Well, he wasn't going to be chicken. He climbed down the stairs with no hesitation. This'll be an adventure to tell the boys, he thought.

In front of him was a long hallway. It was dark, and made him feel uncomfortable. Spot bravely made his way through it. There were no doors, no windows. Nothing. As he came closer to the end, he noticed a rather creepy looking door. He looked behind him; the staircase couldn't even be seen from here. He crept up to the door and studied it. He pulled on it slightly; it was locked.

He then noticed a small keyhole near the handle. He wrinkled his eyebrows. Maybe… He grabbed his key off of his neck. Just maybe…He stuck the key into the hole and turned it. To his utter surprise, the door unlocked. His eyes grew big. He looked around him to make sure he was alone. Shrugging, he pulled the door open.

He peered into the room and his eyes grew wide.

Normal P.O.V

I heard the dungeon door creak open, causing me to look up. Were they back? I smiled to myself, but only gasped. It wasn't my uncle. In the doorway stood a boy who looked to be one year older than me. His eyes were wide, or I think they were. It was hard to see him in the dark.

I sat up and stared at him. Was he working with my uncle? I cleared my throat, "Who are you?" I asked. The boy was surprised to hear me talk, but replied.

"Spot Conlon. What're you doin in here?" He asked. What a stupid question. Oh I came in here to live, but got locked in. But its okay, I'm happy in here. So you can leave now.

"I'm a prisoner," I simply said, rising to my feet. He blinked a few times. He looked behind him cautiously, and came closer to me. He grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the dungeon.

"What are you doing?" I asked. He didn't respond.

"If my uncle finds out that you are helping me, then you'll be killed!" I shrieked. He didn't seem to care. He quickly pulled me up the stairs. It didn't take long until we were outside of the warehouse.

"Look, I appreciate you trying to help, but this is dangerous." I peered at the key he had pulled out of the keyhole.

"Where did you get that?" I asked. He looked at it, and then turned his gaze back to me.

"I found it," he said. "What's yer name?"

"Sage Matthews. Why are you helping me?" I asked.

"What? Didn't wanna get outta tha dungeon? Fine, go back. Not as if I care." I flinched at his sudden rudeness. He turned around and began to walk away.

I sighed and ran after him. "Thanks, I guess. I was pretty sure you were one of my uncle's goons."

"What're you a prisona for?"

"My uncle. He accused me for the crime he did. So he locked me up under the warehouse," I said, walking along side of him.

"Where's he now?" Spot asked me. I shrugged.

"How long have ya been in there?" He asked.

"Three months," I answered truthfully. He looked at me like I had sprouted another head.

"Three months?" He repeated. I nodded and shrugged.

"Where are we going?" I asked him.

"Well, if youse can direct me back t'Brooklyn, I can take ya to tha Lodging House."

"We are in Brooklyn," I told him. "Come on. Follow me."

It didn't take us long to get back on the streets. I was surprised that I even knew my way back. It was great to actually be free again. Spot lead the rest of the way. I just followed in silence. We came upon a small Lodging House, and we entered.

"Um, youse can stay in tha girl's lodging room. We ain't got no girl newsies. Dey left," he said. He led me up the stairs and directed me to a room.

"The washrooms in dere," he pointed to a door. The room had cozy looking bunks along side each other, and hooks on the walls. I smiled,

"Thanks." He shrugged and turned to leave.

"Oh, and if ya need anythin, tha boy's room is right dere. Dats where I sleep," he said.

"No kidding," I replied. He rolled his eyes and left. I sighed and shut the girl's lodging room door. I opened the closet door, and to my surprise there were dresses hung up. Looks like the girls left a gift behind, I thought. I picked out something that looked a little like what I was wearing, but cleaner. I shrugged and entered the washroom.

It felt good to be able to wash the dirt out of my hair. You could now tell that I had blonde hair. After washing up, I slipped into the outfit. It didn't quite fit well, but you couldn't exactly tell. I didn't see any night dresses in the closet, so this'll do.

I lay down on the nearest bed closest to the window. It didn't take long for sleep to overcome me.

The next morning I felt someone poking my side. I groaned and pulled the sheets over my head, trying to fall back to sleep. There was more poking at my side. I heard laughing, and whispers. I pulled the sheets down from my head and glared at three boys.

"Wakey, wakey doll face," the one poking me said. I raised an eyebrow.

"Who are you?" I managed to ask.

The boy smiled and bowed.

"Splinter at your soivice," he said. I smiled as the other boys bowed. Splinter had dark brown, shaggy hair that fell in his eyes. His smile was very welcoming.

"Nice to meet you, Splinter. I'm Sage." I smiled and shook his hand.

"Oh. Dis is Dice, and Tick." Dice had a head full of blonde curls, and Tick had short brown hair. I smiled and shook their hands.

"Nice ta meet youse," Dice said, planting a small kiss upon my hand. I blushed,

"You too."

A voice startled us,

"What're you bums doin in here?" I looked to the doorway to see Spot. I now had the opportunity to observe him. He had blondish brown hair, and his eyes seemed to be a relaxing gray that sparkled. I smiled and rose out of the bed.

"Oh, Spot. We were jus', uh…" Splinter sent Dice and Tick a glance.

"Get outta heh," Spot demanded. The boys obeyed and left the room, their heads hanging. Spot looked me over.

"Youse can go to tha docks while we sell da papes," he told me.

"What? Oh, I'm not staying," I said. Spot gave me a confused look.

"Oh, so youse have somewheres to go?" He asked.

I shrugged, "I figured I'd go back to California, where I'm from," I told him. He chuckled,

"California? If youse are from California den what're you doin in Brooklyn?"

"Well, my mother passed away and my father is in jail, so I had to come live with my uncle in Brooklyn." Spot crossed his arms over his chest.

"You ain't gotta leave. Dere ain't nobody waitin for youse in California, so why not live here with me and me boys?" I tilted my head,

"Is that an offer or a demand?"

"Both," Spot said, smirking. I shrugged,

"Why? You'll only have to put up with me annoying you for hours, and hours, and hours, and-"

"Okay, okay. Geez, if ya wanna go, den go." He turned to walk away,

"Wait. Why were Splinter and the others so scared of you?"

Spot grinned and bowed,

"Might I introduce you to the King of tha Brooklyn newsies?" I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest. Great, a show off…

"Yeah, whatever." I walked to the washroom, ignoring him completely.

"Oh, so dat's how youse react to yer rescuer?" I turned to him,

"I'd rather have been rescued by a rat," I said. It was a lame comeback, but hey. Spot chuckled and leaned against the doorway.

"So, youse stayin or goin?" I rolled my eyes and turned to him.

"What does it matter to you?"

"Hey, jus' a question, don't blow yer top." I began to think this over. Should I stay? Spot waited patiently for my answer, playing with the gold tip of his cane.

"If it makes you happy then I'll stay," I told him. "Besides, I do owe you."

"Dat's right, youse do owe me," he repeated. He smirked and walked away, probably to go sell his precious newspapers.

To be honest, I wasn't staying just because I owed him. No, this was much more serious than that. My blood ran cold for revenge. And I was going to get it…even if I had to die trying.

Uncle Bryan was going to pay for what he did to me.