Jett rubbed his eyes groggily as he opened them, realizing he had slept. Not just that, he had also slept longer than he expected. Standing up, he stretched his limbs before making his way out of the room. He made his way down the hallway toward the living room.

As he walked down the hallway towards the living room, lost in his thoughts, he bumped into a young woman. She had tousled auburn hair and weary blue eyes.

"I - I'm sorry. Didn't see you there," Jett stammered an apology, but the young woman simply brushed past him without acknowledging his presence.

Jett's eyes fell to her finger, where a ring similar to his own adorned her hand. "This must be the ring wielder that Morris talked about. I wonder what she's been through," he thought, watching her disappear around a corner.

Shaking off the encounter, Jett continued on his way until he reached the living room. The soft morning light bathed the living room in a warm glow.

Jett found Eric seated at the dining table, sipping black coffee and engrossed in a book. "You had a good rest?" Eric inquired, glancing up at Jett.

Jett nodded, taking a seat opposite Eric. "Yeah, I guess," he replied, still remembering his encounter with the woman.

"Breakfast will be here shortly," Eric said casually, returning to his reading.

Clearing his throat nervously, Jett decided to address his earlier defiance. "About what I said earlier. About me refusing to lay low and be hunted down and all…" he began hesitantly.

Eric cut him off with a cold tone. "Get to the point already."

Taking a deep breath, Jett continued. "I was wrong, okay? I realize that now," he admitted.

Eric took another sip of his coffee before responding. "You're less of an idiot now."

Jett chuckled softly. "I'll take that as a compliment," he replied.

Curious, Eric pressed further. "What made you change your perspective?"

Jett shrugged. "I still believe that we shouldn't be preyed upon. But I figured I should at least get stronger before I go about that."

Eric said nothing, returning his attention to his book. As the morning light grew in intensity, the young woman with the ring approached the table where Eric and Jett sat. Eric turned to acknowledge her. "Are you well-rested?" he inquired.

The young woman nodded silently, as she took her seat. Almost immediately, Morris entered the living room with a tray of breakfast, setting it down before each of them.

The table was adorned with an array of luxurious dishes – golden scrambled eggs sprinkled with truffles, crispy bacon glazed with maple syrup, freshly baked croissants oozing with butter, and a colorful fruit platter glistening with dew.

Jett's stomach rumbled as he eagerly reached for the delectable dishes. However, his appetite was quickly overshadowed as he looked around for Whimsy.

"Where is Whimsy?" Jett inquired, turning to Eric for answers.

Eric's response was characteristically cold. "That's not my problem," he stated bluntly.

Jett sighed inwardly. ‘Whimsy's probably still in bed. I'll go check later,’ he thought to himself.

As they began to eat, Jett couldn't help but notice the young woman’s reluctance to touch her food. She picked at her meal hesitantly, barely managing to consume a few bites. Eric noticed her struggle too.

"You'll never get better if you eat so little," Eric remarked.

The young woman nodded meekly, attempting to force herself to eat more, but her efforts were in vain. After a few minutes, Jett and Eric had finished their breakfast, but the woman had barely made a dent in hers. Morris promptly cleared the plates, and the young woman rose from her seat with a grateful nod to Eric before retreating to her room.

"Who is she?" Jett asked Eric as he watched her leave.

"Charlotte Summers. She's a ring wielder," Eric explained matter-of-factly. "I found her lying by a garbage can covered in blood. She looked hungry and traumatized so I brought her here to recover."

Jett pressed further, concerned. "What happened to her?"

Eric shrugged nonchalantly. "She didn't say. In fact, she hasn't said a word since I brought her here."

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Jett felt sympathy, his heart went out for Charlotte. "Oh. I feel sorry for her," he murmured softly.

Surprised by Jett's compassion, Eric rose from his seat. "You're surprisingly compassionate," he remarked,

Jett smiled, hoping to mend their strained relationship. "You just didn't notice because we got off on the wrong foot when we first met," he explained.

Eric pondered Jett's words for a moment before offering a blunt response. "That's because you were an insufferable idiot then," he stated matter-of-factly before leaving the dining room.

Left alone with his thoughts, Jett felt frustrated by Eric's stubbornness. Eric was making it hard for him to break the ice between them.

"Oh right, let me go check on Whimsy," Jett muttered to himself.

***

Whimsy's room was a riot of color. Posters of various cartoon characters were pasted on the walls. A cozy bed with a rainbow-colored comforter sat in one corner, surrounded by stacks of comic books and plush toys. A small TV sat on a dresser, playing reruns of classic cartoons.

As Whimsy slept, a serene smile graced their lips, lost in the bliss of childhood memories. In their dreams, Whimsy was transported back to a time of innocence, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the television, watching their beloved cartoons.

However, Whimsy was abruptly interrupted by screams echoing from their parents' room. Whimsy's heart clenched with fear as they heard the harsh insults that their parents told one another. "You're an asshole!" "You useless drunk!"

In fear, Whimsy stumbled towards their parents' room, the shouts growing louder as they came closer. Pushing open the door, Whimsy saw scene that was forever left in their memory. Their father, clearly angry, held a bottle threateningly, while their mother, her eyes bloodshot, stood trembling in the corner.

They didn’t mind that Whimsy was there. Soon, the argument reached its climax and then the bottle came crashing down.

SPLASH.

Whimsy recoiled as blood spattered across their face.

Whimsy jolted awake, heart pounding in their chest. Whimsy struggled to catch their breath as sweat coated their brow.

Groaning, Whimsy fumbled for their pockets, retrieving a lighter and a cigarette. With trembling hands, they lit the cigarette, taking a long drag before exhaling a cloud of smoke. Then with a gentle smile, they sank back onto the bed.

However, Whimsy’s quiet moment was quickly interrupted by Jett, who had just entered the room. "That's bad for you, you know?"

Startled, Whimsy jumped, quickly stubbing out the cigarette. "Knocking was invented about the same time that public toilet doors were invented for a reason you know?" they quipped.

Jett pointed towards the wide-open door with amusement. "Your door wasn't closed."

Surprised, Whimsy glanced at the door before sheepishly admitting, "I could have sworn I closed that door."

Changing the subject, Jett inquired, "You didn't come for breakfast?"

Whimsy shook their head with a smile. "I wasn't hungry. Besides, I stayed 5 months without eating proper food anyways so what's the big deal?"

Jett accepted the response with a nod. "If you say so."

"Awwn. You came here to check on me didn't you, you big softie?" Whimsy teased Jett.

Jett defended himself. "I just wanted to make sure that you're okay."

Standing up from the bed, Whimsy stretched lazily before declaring, "Don't worry. I'm good." With that, they began to walk out of the room, Jett trailing behind.

As they walked, Whimsy suddenly heard the grumble of hunger in their stomach. "I'm starting to feel kinda hungry now," they remarked, setting off towards the dining area, Jett in tow.

The living room was empty, as Jett and Whimsy entered. Jett looked in confusion as he scanned the room. "Eric was here just a moment ago. Could he have gone out again?" he pondered aloud.

Before Jett could wonder even further, Whimsy suddenly gave a loud yell. "Can I get something to eat around here?"

Jett shot Whimsy a warning glance, "Don’t just shout like that."

Confused, Whimsy looked at Jett, "Why not?"

Jett shook his head, letting it go, "Never mind."

Just then, Morris entered the room and looked at Whimsy. "Oh, you're awake? Would you like something to eat?" he offered kindly.

Whimsy eagerly nodded, their hunger apparent. "Yup, and don't add any onions. I hate that stuff," they declared with a grin.

Morris acknowledged their request and departed to fetch the food, leaving Jett and Whimsy alone once more.

Suddenly, the silence was shattered by the sound of loud crashing coming from somewhere nearby.

"What was that?" Jett wondered aloud.

Whimsy quipped, "Must be the ghosts of this big house acting up," before settling into a chair at the dining table.

Jett, however, was not content to sit idly by. "I'm going to find out what it is," he declared.

"Curiosity kills the rat," Whimsy remarked, but Jett ignored them.

Jett set off in the direction of the noise, with Whimsy reluctantly following behind.

As they made their way down the hallway, Jett and Whimsy eventually reached the source of the disturbance. Whimsy looked around, uncertain. "Is this the room?"

Jett nodded confidently. "I have a great sense of direction."

Once again, they heard the sounds of loud crashing coming from the room, prompting Jett to cautiously open the door. Inside, they found Charlotte in the midst of a breakdown, knocking down and breaking everything around her while whimpering.

Approaching her calmly, Jett spoke softly. "Charlotte," he began gently, "I'm here to help. Can you hear me?"

Charlotte looked at Jett, her eyes wide with fear. She tried to respond but she couldn’t. Then Jett suddenly realized – Charlotte was mute.

"Focus on your breathing, Charlotte," Jett suggested, demonstrating slow, deep breaths. "In... and out. You're in control. You're safe here."

Gradually, Charlotte calmed down and her breathing steadied.

"You're okay. You're okay," Jett reassured her, his voice calm and soothing.

Whimsy was impressed. "Wow. You could have a career as a therapist or something…" they remarked before adding a pop culture reference. "Like Dr. Phil, but without the mustache."

***

In the study of an isolated mansion, a mysterious man sat hunched over a laptop, his fingers moving with lightning speed across the keyboard. Despite the wide-brimmed hat casting a shadow over his face, one could still see glimpses of jet-black spill out in unruly waves over his face. He was wearing a black coat that made him almost blend with the darkness itself.

The man had a sly smirk on his lips as he navigated the dark web on his laptop. Soon, he chanced upon Jett and the hefty bounty on his head.

"Jett. This one ought to be the most interesting yet," the man murmured to himself, his voice a low rumble.

Then, the man leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on nothingness as he mulled over his next move.

"I pray he lasts longer than the rest," he muttered darkly.