AN: This is going to be a very strange fic indeed, and for all you people who liked my other fic called 'Always Watching', you should like this one too. And visa versa. So hold on, cause I'm sendin' you readers on a roller coaster!

The first chapter is going to be from Snyder's (!!!) point of view, but then I'll switch from newsie to newsie with each chapter.

This is more like an intro than a chapter, cause it's really short but it's really essential…anyways…

Summary: All of us have noticed that Snyder was grinning as the police cart pulled away with him inside. He was grinning because he had a dark plan of revenge that may cost the Manhattan newsies their lives…

                                                                                                                                                           

Snyder

            It was a hateful, burning anger. An anger the likes of which I'd never felt before, even when that Jacobs boy kicked me in the jaw. I couldn't contain it. I couldn't control it. And yet, in this dark and dreary prison cell, I had no outlet for it.

            That was why I asked that my letter be sent to Mr. Pulitzer. And that's why he was walking into this lowest of places, ready to hear me out on my idea. My brain-child of revenge.

            "Well, Snyder, I can't stay long. So make your case." He said, removing the cigar from his mouth as the door to the interrogation room clicked shut behind him.

            "I know you want revenge on those boys just as much as I do, probably more."

            "Most likely. And what did you have in mind?"

            I could see he was intrigued, and I could practically feel his anger radiating at the mention of his city wide loss and embarrassment. "I know a few people who are experts in the field of mental and physical torture. For a weekly fee they will make those boy's lives a living hell, and nothing will be traced back to you or me."

            "Interesting. Can they be trusted?"

            "Like I said, they're professionals."

            He hesitated, taking a long drag off of his cigar. "Very well. Who should I contact?"

            I told him the name. I told him the costs. And I loved every second of it.

            Those boys were going to pay. Slowly and painfully, they were going to pay.

                                                                                                                                                           

AN: Haha, creepiness! And suspense! Keep reading, people!