Sheila led Jett over to the food cart, and they ordered a couple of sandwiches and drinks. The scent of freshly grilled meat wafted around them, making Jett's stomach grumble once more. They found a nearby bench to sit on, and as they ate, Jett's thoughts swirled.

He wasn't sure if Sheila was completely innocent, but she seemed genuine. His instincts told him that Sheila’s involvement in the deaths of Fred and Jason might be unintentional, if she was involved at all. The real lead was likely Ryan Robbins, as Eric had suspected.

He shifted his focus to the ring on his finger, the one that had been the catalyst for his adventure with Eric and the others. The power it held was still a mystery to him, and its potential frightened him as much as it excited him.

Sheila interrupted his thoughts, "So how did you join the Association?" she asked, taking a sip of her drink.

Jett set down his sandwich, buying himself a moment to think. "Well, I was recruited by a man named Eric. He saw potential in me and asked me to join the association. He's my partner now, and the two of us are working on this case."

"That’s really cool," Sheila said, genuinely interested.

"Yeah, you’d think so," Jett replied with sarcasm.

Sheila chuckled. "So is it like anything in the movies? Do you guys go up against crazy bad guys and whatnot?"

Jett shrugged. "Something of the sort."

Sheila smiled and shifted in her seat. "You look like you're around my age. Don't you go to college or something?"

Jett sighed, glancing away for a moment. "Oh, right, college? I kinda dropped out."

"Wow, if I did that, my parents would kill me," Sheila said with a smile.

Jett just muttered, "Yeah."His mind wandered to Eric. He didn't even have his phone number. How was he supposed to contact him? How were they supposed to regroup? He pushed those thoughts aside for the moment.

After finishing their meal, Sheila looked at Jett. "So, you're no longer hungry now, right?"

Jett nodded. "Yeah, I'm good now."

"Where's your partner?" Sheila asked, prying again.

Jett thought, 'Wow, she really askes a lot of questions. Kind of annoying.' He shook his head slightly; he realized he was acting like Eric. ‘I can’t believe he’s starting rubbing off on me.’

"He's looking into something else. After all, you aren’t the only suspect," Jett replied.

"Jason and Fred really didn’t have many enemies, so I don’t get how you… unless…" Sheila trailed off.

Jett perked up. "Unless what?"

"Ryan. Jason’s cousin," Sheila said.

Jett felt a surge of excitement. This was the lead Eric was investigating.

"Ryan threatened to kill Jason in the most painful way he could imagine after an argument. Fred stepped in and pushed Ryan aside, so Ryan angrily threatened him too," Sheila continued.

"Well, do you happen to know where Ryan lives?" Jett asked, hopefully.

"Yeah, but I can’t go there," Sheila said.

"Why not?" Jett asked, puzzled.

Sheila looked around, her voice dropping to a whisper. "He threatened to kill me too..."

Jett asked, “Why did he threaten you and what did he say?”

Jett watched as Sheila shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her gaze dropping to the ground as she began to explain Ryan's threat. "Well...um...it's kind of embarrassing."

Jett gave her an encouraging nod. "I'm all ears."

Sheila took a breath and continued, "Ryan had—or still has—a slight crush on me."

Jett inwardly rolled his eyes. ‘This sounds like some sort of cliché setup in a soap opera.’

Sheila continued, "And, well, he believed that I liked Jason. So when I ended up supporting Jason during their argument, he glared at me and threatened me."

"What did he say?" Jett asked, his tone serious.

Sheila hesitated for a moment, then responded, “‘He said, ‘You’ll be dead before Friday.’"

"Well, this is Thursday," he remarked, a bit jokingly.

Sheila nodded, her expression worried. "It's probably just an empty threat, but seeing what happened to Jason and Fred..."

Jett reassured her, "Don't worry. Nothing will happen to you. Like you said, it's probably just an empty threat."

Sheila nodded, accepting his words for now. Jett pressed on. "Could you tell me where he lives? I’ll go there myself."

Sheila agreed. "Alright, but please don't say anything about me."

Jett nodded in agreement. "I promise I won't mention anything about you."

Sheila gave him the address: 310 Elm Street. Jett thanked her and set off toward the address she provided.

When Jett arrived at the address, he observed that it was a quiet residential street. The house was a modest two-story building with a small front yard, neatly trimmed bushes, and a couple of potted plants on the porch. It appeared relatively new and well-kept.

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Jett approached the front door and knocked, but there was no answer. He knocked a few more times, even so, no one responded. He decided to peer through a nearby window, but the shades were drawn.

Returning to the front door, Jett tested the handle. To his surprise, the door opened. He stepped inside cautiously and looked around the apartment. The furniture was arranged neatly, and the surfaces were clean, so someone had definitely been living here recently. However, there were signs of a recent struggle—a toppled chair, a broken vase on the floor, and a few scuff marks on the wall.

Jett wondered to himself, ‘Did Eric get into a fight with Ryan, or did something else happen?’

Just then, he heard the faint sound of footsteps and slight noises coming from upstairs.

Jett muttered, "So, someone is here?"

Jett approached the stairs cautiously, his heart beating a little faster as he took each step. The wooden steps creaked slightly. When he reached the top, he found himself in a hallway with several closed doors on either side.

Jett paused, listening for the source of the noise. Suddenly, he heard the muffled sounds of someone going through bags, accompanied by frustrated muttering coming from the door.

Jett walked over to the door and opened it slowly. As he stepped inside, he saw someone rummaging through a pile of clothing in an open suitcase, muttering angrily to themselves, "Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!" The voice was familiar, and Jett's heart skipped a beat.

"Who are you?" Jett demanded.

The person sharply turned around, revealing their face—it was Whimsy. They were wearing a pair of rainbow-striped pants and a bright red blazer over a t-shirt that had a bold print of a cartoonish cat with a pair of oversized sunglasses. Their entire outfit looked straight out of a Looney Tunes episode.

When Whimsy turned around and saw Jett, they gave a grin. “Back from the dead, just like your favorite TV character in season two!” Whimsy quipped.

Jett stared in disbelief. "I—I thought you were dead!"

Whimsy waved a hand dismissively. "There’s no way in hell I was going to activate a grenade without taking certain precautions." They held up their ring. "Managed to slip this back on just seconds before I let that grenade rip. Talk about last-minute decisions, right?"

"Why didn’t you let me know you were alive? I thought you were gone."

Whimsy chuckled. "Oh, you missed me, didn’t you?"

Jett sighed, still processing the surprise. "What are you even doing here?"

Whimsy grinned mischievously. "Trying to find a guy named Ryan Robbins. And you?"

"I’m also trying to find Ryan. He’s a suspect for murder."

Whimsy grimaced. "Yeesh. I don’t think that guy would do well in prison."

Jett raised an eyebrow. "Why are you looking for Ryan?"

Whimsy shrugged dramatically. "Oh, you know, Ryan’s been dabbling in the occult arts, and I was curious if he’s got some creepy objects lying around. I’ve got a bet with an old friend about whether Ryan’s the type to hoard cursed objects."

Jett chuckled. "Is that why you’re searching his baggage?"

Whimsy smirked. "Well, when in Rome, right? I could have sworn I saw a mystical conch shell around here, though," Whimsy said as they began searching the bag once more with renewed interest.

Jett then asked, "Well, when you got here, did you see Eric, by any chance?"

"Ooh, Eric came along with you? I missed that adorable white-haired angel," Whimsy said with an exaggerated sigh. "But nope, I didn't see him when I got here. The door was unlocked, and the place looked like an episode of 'Hoarders' had gone horribly wrong."

Suddenly, they both heard sounds of people entering the house downstairs. A sense of unease washed over him, the kind that came when danger was near.

Whimsy turned to him and asked, "Um… did you happen to invite your friends or something?"

Jett shook his head. "No, and I’m pretty sure those aren’t my friends."

Jett and Whimsy acted quickly, shutting the door behind them. Jett leaned closer to the door and pressed his ear against it, straining to hear the approaching footsteps. He heard the footsteps of several people making their way up the stairs and towards the room.

Jett whispered, “They’re coming.”

Whimsy brought out an enormous mallet out of thin air, the kind typically seen in cartoons, and they give it a test swing. "I’m so going to enjoy this. Haven't had some good old-fashioned whack-a-bad-guy in a while!" Whimsy said with a grin.

Jett looked at Whimsy skeptically. "We don’t even know who they are yet. Maybe we should wait and see who’s coming before we take any action."

Whimsy swung the mallet casually, responding, "All we know is they broke into someone else's apartment, and that's bad enough. That’s all the reason I need."

Jett replied, "Uh... we did the same thing."

Whimsy gave a playful smile and said, "Yeah, but we’re the fun kind of breaking-and-entering. Like the good guys in a novel!"

The footsteps neared the door, then stopped suddenly. Jett's sense of unease grew even stronger, as if danger were pressing in on him from all sides. His instincts screamed at him to hide.

Jett yelled, “Take cover!”

Jett darted to hide behind an overturned dresser while Whimsy comically squished themselves into the gap between the wall and a bookshelf, creating a hole-shaped cutout that barely covered them.

Just as they took cover, a powerful beam shot through the door, completely obliterating it. The door vanished in an instant, revealing three people who entered the room. A middle-aged man in a long, dark trench coat with various pockets and compartments, a younger man in a leather jacket and black jeans, and an old woman wearing dark overalls.

The middle-aged man looked around and smiled. "You know, you’ve got excellent instincts," he said, referring to Jett's ability to sense danger.

Jett and Whimsy emerged from their hiding places cautiously.

The middle-aged man glanced at them and then asked, “What are you two doing in Devin’s place, huh?”

Whimsy replied with a cheeky grin, “Isn’t your trench coat kind of outdated?”

The middle-aged man turned to Whimsy with an unimpressed look and asked, “Why the hell do you look like a Barbie doll?”

Whimsy quipped, “Hey, you’re not exactly G.I. Joe yourself. You could be Ken, though.”

The middle-aged man’s expression remained stern as he said, “Alright, you two, you’ve had your fun. Now get lost.”

Jett spoke up, “Not until we find out where Devin is.”

The middle-aged man gave Jett a hard stare. "Why are you looking for Devin?"

The younger man noticed Jett's ring and moved closer to whisper something in the middle-aged man's ear. The man stared at Jett’s finger and his expression changed to one of recognition.

"Oh, now I see. Are you with that white-haired brat?" the man asked.

Jett's eyes widened in shock. ‘They know about Eric?’ he thought.

"The look on your face tells me you are, so I’ll try my best to make this quick..." the middle-aged man sneered as he pulled a revolver from his pocket.

He aimed his gun directly at Jett and fired, but Jett vanished in a flash of blue just before the bullet could hit him. The bullet struck the wall instead, leaving a small hole. Jett reappeared in front of the middle-aged man and threw a punch at him. The punch sent the man stumbling backwards.

“Damn wielders,” he grumbled in frustration.

The younger man reacted quickly, pulling out his own gun and aiming it at Jett. “Allow me to handle him,” he said confidently.

But the middle-aged man shook his head. "No, take the Barbie doll," he directed.

Whimsy, offended by the comment, shouted, "Hey!"

The old woman, who had been standing quietly to the side, spoke up. "I'll be outside. You boys handle this." She opened the door and left the room without a second glance.

The younger man nodded and then fired his gun at Whimsy. Whimsy’s ring glowed pink, and then they dodged the bullet by stretching their body into a zigzag shape that seemed more cartoonish than human. The bullet whizzed past them, narrowly missing.

The younger man clicked his tongue. "You're going to be a hassle."

Whimsy grinned back, unfazed. “I’m your worst nightmare and best dreams rolled into one.”

Frustrated, the younger man attempted to shoot Whimsy again, but Whimsy ran toward him with cartoonish speed. In an attempt to disarm him, Whimsy lunged forward and tried to grab the gun, but the younger man pushed them away.

Undeterred, Whimsy brought out a marker from nowhere and drew an X on the ground right where the younger man stood. A heavy anvil suddenly appeared out of thin air and fell toward the younger man, but he dodged it just in time.

Whimsy chuckled at the narrow escape. “You’re good at hopscotch, huh?”

Still grinning, Whimsy used the marker to draw a black hole in the ground and jumped into it, disappearing instantly.

The younger man gritted his teeth in frustration, then followed Whimsy through the black hole, vanishing from sight just as Whimsy had.