Newsies Prologue Novels & Stories

New York, once a city of dazzling grandeur, was now slowly sinking into darkness. A full week of chaos. Every corner of the city was filled with fear—residents no longer dared to step outside, businesses continued to shut down, and Nuovo Ordine expanded its grip without resistance. For those who chose to stay, survival had become a struggle. Throughout the streets, the Silver Rose emblem—the symbol of Nuovo Ordine—began appearing on storefronts, abandoned buildings, even wrecked cars. It wasn’t just a symbol. It was a mark of ownership. Cassandra stood by the window in her office at the police station, staring at the empty streets. In mere days, New York had turned into a ghost town. Where b

“Don’t tell me you were lurking outside the door eavesdropping just now. What’s in this notebook is exactly the same as what Jane just reported. I’ve got to hand it to you. You write pretty fast.” The others exchanged glances and laughed, their faces full of ridicule. “Well, Claire Hayes, your team spent months running around in the wilderness, and now you’re copying an intern’s survey report?” “Claire Hayes, I’m afraid that title of chief prospector won’t be yours much longer. She takes one look and knows exactly where the gold is. You spend months tossing people around, come back empty-handed, and then try to pass off someone else’s survey as your own. How are you supposed to compete with

Cole Sutcliffe The first thing I notice is the noise. Not the city, New York has always hummed like a living thing, but the cameras. The low, predatory click-click-click that follows us the moment the car door opens. Flashbulbs bloom like small explosions against the sidewalk, voices rising in a practiced chorus. “Cole, over here!” “Niccola, how are you feeling after court?” “Is this a celebration?”

He can't even complete his one promise how can I trust him with life. "Are you supposed to on leave" I heard Mrs Jones asked once I reached in hospital. she is receptionist and my good friend. "Yes, but I guess I need here more" I said looking patients at counters "Yeah but I have arranged them for Dr. Nick but as you always late" she said and we both started laughing. "Send some of them in my cabin" I said and went back to my cabin. I drunk galss of water and wore my white code. I sat on my chair looking for mails and some mails from my clients there issues and progess.

I passed both tickets to the attendant and offered him a tired smile. “Don’t you hate these early mornings?” he asked sympathetically. “I never seem to get used to them,” I replied. He returned the stubs and waved us through. I threaded my way across the crowded concourse until I stopped outside WH Smith, where stacks of newspapers lined the entrance. KILLER CONFESSES — I KILLED CATHERINE The headline screamed from the front page of the Sun. The broadsheets were more restrained. They buried my story beneath reports about rising interest rates and possible postal strikes. People brushed past me, picking up newspapers without a second glance. Nobody made eye contact.

“The little soothsayer will be with us too.” Jane lifted an eyebrow. “Do I get nuggets?” Jake cracked a smile despite everything. “Yeah, kid. You get nuggets.” Outside, the winter sun looked cleaner than it had any right to after a night like that. In the city, sirens still stitched and unstitched streets. In a studio somewhere, producers scrubbed audio. And in a small flat with a terrible name, three lives pivoted toward a place where old promises had once felt easy.

They all knew where the wind was blowing. The party continued into the night, then Chuks who was in the penthouse doing God knows what came down to call me, he grabbed me and Kaz by the shoulder and dragged us to the penthouse. The television was already switched on, and as I turned my gaze on the large screen I immediately saw what Chuks wanted to show us. The news was on and the headline read, "Three suspected mobsters found gunned down by unknown men dressed in DSS outfits, after being arrested in their several residents early today."

"How are things in the Slums of late?" Nash sighed. "Nothing different… just missing people and the usual stuff." He tossed me the news tablet and I caught it mid-air before plopping down on the couch beside him, not missing the edge in his voice. Missing Person Found Dead. The headlines screamed at me and I scrolled down a little more to read.

"Ethan, dear, I've been framed, and I'll prove my innocence." "Whether you're innocent or not, justice lies in the hearts of the people," Ethan replied, his gaze shifting to the reporters outside. "I hope this experience teaches you a valuable lesson." The reporters were snapping photos and recording the spectacle, witnessing the squabble among the wealthy and powerful. It was a war without gunfire, brimming with drama. Everyone knew that once this news hit the headlines, it would stay hot for weeks, maybe even dominating the front page. "Get out! All of you, get out!" Howard was still in the living room, smashing things.

“Everyone step back! Move away from the gates!” For a moment, chaos turned into a blur of movement, officers shouting, protesters resisting, reporters snapping photos from every angle. Adam turned away from the window and sank back into his chair, exhausted. He could already imagine what the headlines would say. By evening, his fears were confirmed. On every major news channel, the footage was the same—angry workers, shattered glass, police sirens, and Adam Brooks standing at the window like a man watching his empire burn. The reporters’ voices carried judgment without mercy.