Mick sat cross-legged on the floor of Jett's room, surrounded by scattered sheets of paper and an assortment of colored pencils. Mick, with a sketchpad in his lap, absentmindedly doodled on the page.

He wants what is inside of me.

Those words rang in Jett’s mind. He turned to look at Mick, curious.

"You like drawing, huh?" Jett remarked, breaking the silence.

Mick looked up with a small smile. "Yeah," he replied, flipping through a few pages to show Jett some of his sketches. "It helps me clear my mind."

As Jett continued to watch Mick sketch, one particular drawing seemed to stir something within him. The drawing showed a young boy standing in the rain, shoulders slumped and head bowed. A haunting sadness in the young boy’s eyes struck a something within Jett. Mick’s own expression turned gloomy as soon as he saw the drawing too.

"What's on your mind?" Jett asked, sensing Mick's shift in mood.

"It's... it's nothing," Mick muttered, quickly flipping the page to another drawing.

Still, there was this feeling of familiarity that Jett had when he studied Mick’s drawings. The way Mick captured the emotion in his drawings reminded him of something familiar. Something he couldn’t quite place yet.

"You're really talented," Jett said softly. "You have a way of expressing emotion that's... powerful."

Mick glanced up at Jett. "Do you think so?" he asked in disbelief.

Jett nodded. "Absolutely. You have a gift."

Mick gave Jett a gentle smile then continued his sketching.

‘That sketch he made. It struck something within me. But why?’ Jett thought to himself.

Suddenly, Mick broke the silence. "Jett, can you teach me how to fight?"

Jett raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Why do you want to learn to fight?”

Mick hesitated for a moment before speaking. "I... I want to be able to protect myself," he said quietly. "And... and maybe others too."

Jett studied Mick for a moment. "Why is it so important to you?" he asked gently.

Mick looked down at his hands, his voice a mere whisper. "Because... because I believe that every life has value," he said, his words filled with emotion. "Even the shittiest people. Everybody has a right to live the way they are meant to. And nobody has the right to take the life of another person away from them. And I need to have the strength to protect the life of myself and others."

Jett felt a lump form in his throat as he listened to Mick's words. In that moment, he realized why he felt such a strong connection to the young boy sitting before him. Mick was just like him-they had both been hurt and preyed upon by the cruelty of the world, but they were still determined to carve out their own fate and help those who wouldn't carve out theirs.

"Alright," Jett finally said. "I'll teach you to fight. But before we begin, I need to know... would you ever use these skills to seek revenge? To kill?"

Mick met Jett's gaze head-on. "No," he said firmly. "Like I said before, every life has value. I would never take that away from someone else, no matter what they've done."

With a small smile, Jett nodded. "Alright then," he said. "Let's get started."

Jett then stood up and positioned himself in a fighting stance.

"Okay, Mick, let's start with some simple blocks," Jett instructed. "Remember, the key is to predict your opponent's movements and react accordingly."

Mick nodded eagerly, as he mirrored Jett's actions.

Jett started with simple warm-up exercises, guiding Mick through a series of stretches and movements.

"Now, let's work on some blocking techniques," Jett said.

Mick nodded, mimicking Jett's stance as they began to practice blocking techniques. Jett demonstrated each move slowly, allowing Mick to follow along and adjust his posture as needed. With each repetition, Mick became even better.

Hours passed in a blur as the training session progressed, Jett introduced Mick to a variety of martial arts techniques, including strikes, kicks, and joint locks.

Finally, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Jett called an end to the training session. He clapped Mick on the shoulder, a proud smile on his face. Mick had a natural talent for martial arts; he learned each move that Jett taught him quickly and as accurately as possible.

"You did great today, Mick," Jett said. "You're a natural at this."

Mick grinned, his chest swelling with pride. "Thanks, Jett," he replied.

Jett then turned to look at the sky. The sun had already gone down.

‘Turns out there were no need for video games,’ Jett thought with a smile.

Stolen novel; please report.

Sweat still glistening his body from the training, Mick decided to strike up a conversation. "Who taught you how to fight?" Mick asked.

"I'm self-taught, actually," he replied.

"That's impressive," Mick remarked.

They continued their conversation, discussing various topics ranging from their favorite movies to their shared love for drawing.

At one point, the conversation turned to their childhood memories. "I remember this one time when my mum took me fishing," Jett began. "I was so excited to catch my first fish, but I ended up falling into the lake instead."

Mick chuckled at the image, enjoying Jett's storytelling.

"You know, despite the fall, it was one of the best days of my life," Jett continued, his expression turning wistful. "My mum was there, cheering me on, even when I messed up. He always believed in me, no matter what."

However, Jett's next words unintentionally struck a nerve with Mick. The mention of a supportive mother triggered emotions Mick had long tried to bury. Jett’s story reminded him of his own painful past as an orphan – without any parents or friends. He was born into the world alone as far as he could tell.

Once again, Jett easily noticed Mick’s change in mood despite the fact that Mick tried to keep a smile on his face.

"I'm sorry, Mick," Jett apologized quickly. "I didn't mean to bring up any bad memories."

Mick shook his head. "It's okay, Jett," he said softly. "I'm fine, really."

Just then, Eric entered the room, carrying a stack of clothes. He dropped them on the bed, catching Jett and Mick's attention.

"Um, what are the clothes for?" Jett asked in wonder.

Eric explained, "Since you'll be staying here for a while, you'll need some clean clothes to wear." He gestured towards the pile of clothes. "Most of these should fit you."

"So you do have a heart, huh?" Jett teased.

Eric simply ignored Jett and turned to face Mick, his gaze assessing. "Looks like you're already coming along," he remarked.

Mick gave a small smile. "Thanks," he replied.

With that, Eric left the room, leaving Jett and Mick alone once again. Mick glanced around the room as he asked, "So, where am I gonna sleep tonight?"

Jett paused, considering Mick's question. "Just hold on a sec. I'll go find out," he replied, stepping out of the room to catch up with Eric, who was walking down the hallway.

"Hey, Eric," Jett called out, jogging to catch up with him. "Do you know where Mick is supposed to sleep tonight?"

Eric glanced at Jett, his expression unreadable. "He'll be sharing a room with you," he stated matter-of-factly. "It's obvious. Mick can't be left alone. He needs supervision."

"And I'm the one supervising him because I'm good with children, right? So I’m the designated babysitter now, huh?" Jett made a light joke.

Eric nodded, his tone indifferent. "That's part of it. Plus, I don't want him," he added bluntly. "But you seem to enjoy his company."

'I take it back, he doesn't have a heart,' Jett thought to himself.

Before Jett could dwell on Eric's callousness any longer, Eric changed the subject, his tone businesslike. "Did you find out anything about why Ezekiel is after him?" he asked, cutting straight to the point.

Jett shook his head, his expression thoughtful. "Not yet," he admitted. "I want to approach it gently, see if I can get Mick to open up."

Eric's response was blunt, devoid of any empathy. "Well, hurry up," he remarked. "We don't have all night for you to approach things gently."

With a sigh, Jett turned to leave. He couldn’t except Eric to understand emotions. However, before he could take another step, Eric called out to him.

"One more thing," Eric said, his voice tinged with a hint of urgency. "You have a 30 million dollar bounty on your head."

Jett froze in his tracks. "What?" he exclaimed, turning back to face in shock.

"I spent the last couple of hours digging through criminal networks and databases," he explained. "Purge has put a bounty on your head."

"Guess I won't be going out anytime soon," Jett muttered resignedly.

"Looks like sparing Purge's life has come to bite you back, won’t you say?" Eric said mockingly.

Jett just ignored Eric as he turned heel and headed back to his room.

***

Liam sat at a distance, his back against a grimy brick wall, his eyes fixed on the neon-lit bar across the street. The air was thick with the stench of stale beer and garbage, but Liam did not care.

"I wonder how long that idiot will stay in there? Whimsy sure is a heavy drinker, that's for sure," Liam muttered to himself, his gaze fixed on the bar's entrance.

As if in response to his words, the bar's door swung open with a creak, and Whimsy stumbled out, a goofy grin plastered across their face. Liam smiled as he watched Whimsy stumble onto the sidewalk.

"Ah, finally. Took long enough," Liam remarked quietly to himself, as he stood up, pushing himself off the wall.

As Whimsy began their journey home, clearly intoxicated, Liam followed at a safe distance, his footsteps silent against the pavement. The streets were deserted at this late hour; the only sounds were their footsteps and the occasional passing car.

As they reached a crosswalk, Whimsy's bottle slipped from their grasp, clattering to the ground without shattering.

"Nice, it didn't break. I was actually expecting…" Whimsy began, their words cut off by the sound of an incoming truck barreling down the street, its headlights blazing.

Liam's eyes widened in surprise as the truck crushed Whimsy beneath its wheels and sped off. "Well, that's one way to die. How amusing," he murmured to himself. "But I needed that idiot for my plans though…"

However, Whimsy didn't remain flattened under the truck's wheels. Instead, they bounced back with a comical boinging sound, their body reshaping back to its original form.

"Well, isn't that a sight," Liam murmured, with a smirk. "Looks like even death has a sense of humor when it comes to Whimsy. Remarkable."

Whimsy simply picked up their bottle. which miraculously hadn't been crushed by the truck, and continued on their way with Liam following. Eventually, they arrived at Eric's apartment. Whimsy walked up to the grand door and knocked as hard as they could.

“You could just use the doorbell,” Liam muttered from a distance.

After a few moments, Morris opened the door and greeted Whimsy with weary eyes. "Welcome back," Morris greeted, clearly exhausted.

Whimsy gave a reply. "I must have taken a wrong turn at Albuquerque," their words slurring slightly as they stumbled into the apartment.

Morris glanced around the deserted streets before closing the door behind them, leaving Liam outside in the darkness.

Liam stepped onto the sweeping driveway, his polished shoes clicking against the smooth surface. His sharp eyes took in every detail, from the gleaming marble pillars to the carved stone.

"Hmm, impressive," Liam muttered to himself. He paused to admire the architectural beauty, a smirk playing on his lips. "But beauty often masks function, doesn't it?"

He soon noticed the discreet cameras positioned strategically around the perimeter, their lenses trained on every angle. His mind immediately began analyzing the capabilities of the setup.

"Hmm, surveillance," Liam mused to himself. "No doubt feeding into a sophisticated monitoring system. They'll see me coming long before I even reach the door."

As he continued his observation, Liam's mind worked swiftly, piecing together the capabilities of the security system without even approaching the entrance.

"Pressure sensors on the driveway, likely tied to an alarm system," he continued his analysis confidently. "Biometric scanners at the entrance, perhaps even facial recognition software. And those cameras, strategically placed to cover every angle."

"Formidable," Liam murmured. "But not unbeatable."

With a final glance at the building, Liam turned away. his mind already formulating a plan.

"I’ll have to get Whimsy a thank-you gift when I’m through. After all, I didn't even need to use the tracker," Liam spoke aloud with a deranged smile on his face.