Nicholas backed away from Lyric, Oliver, and Derpy, taking a deep breath. "I'm gonna get a scholarship to King's College. The problem is I got a lot of brains, but no polish. C'mon- We're supposed to be a colony that runs independently, but Britain keeps shitting on us! They tax us relentlessly, then Queen Yaleet turns around and runs a spending spree!"

He went on, ranting about what he would and could do alongside the colonies.
Ryan watched as Lyric, Oliver, and Derpy boasted what they could do, then spoke up. "Lower your voices. If you avoid attention, you double your choices-" Seeing their glares, he sighed. "I'm with you, but those who talk too much get shot."

Nicholas scoffed. "Oh come on, we got Derpy, like Lancelot, we have Oliver- Your pants are nice, by the way- and Lyric's freaking awesome. What are the odds so many would be put here?! Give me a position, show me where the ammunition is!"
The other four went silent, and Nicholas backed up. "Oh- Am I talking too loud-? I promise that I'll make you proud..."
Lyric smiled, grabbing Nicholas' arm. "Let's get this guy in front of a crowd!"

They all went outside, spreading the word about how they would fight for their freedom. The Schuylers had heard and came over to the crowd, seeming curious. As he watched, Nicholas began to wonder.

'When's death gonna get me? In my sleep, seven feet ahead? If I see it coming, do I run or do I let it be?'

He walked through the crowd, standing up on a parapet. "I know the action is exciting, but- but between all the bleeding and fighting, I've been reading and writing- we need to handle our financial situation! And I am NOT THROWING AWAY MY SHOT!"

His powerful words spread through the crowd, and soon the sun set over the horizon, leaving the streets of New York City dark and cold. And so Nicholas went to the home he had bought with the leftover money the colonies had collected for him.

He would never throw away his shot. Not until the very end.