Charlotte's breathing steadied as she drifted into a peaceful slumber on Jett's chest. With gentle care, Jett laid her down on her bed, tucking her in before turning to Whimsy in concern. He asked, "What do you think she has been through?"
Whimsy made a quip. "Well, if this was a movie, she'd probably be the tragic heroine with a backstory so convoluted even the writers couldn't keep track," they joked before turning serious. "But it has to be painful for her to end up like this."
Nodding in agreement, Jett and Whimsy quietly exited the room, leaving Charlotte to her rest. As they made their way back to the living room, they saw Eric entering the apartment accompanied by a young boy, who looked around nervously. The boy had a wiry frame, and he was wearing a tattered hoodie and jeans, his messy chestnut brown hair falling into his eyes.
Whimsy made a teasing jab. "Who's the kid? Your son?" they asked.
Eric's response was blunt. "No, you imbecile."
Jett quickly looked at the boy's fingers. He didn’t have a ring. "He isn't a wielder...?" he mused aloud.
"No, but Ezekiel is after him," Eric explained.
Puzzled, Jett wondered aloud, "What's so special about the boy?"
"I don't know. But he'll stay here for the time being until I find out what," Eric replied.
"Well, if Ezekiel has his eyes on him, then he’s definitely screwed," Whimsy remarked dryly.
Turning his attention to the young boy, Jett approached him with a gentle smile. "Hey there, buddy," he began softly, trying to make eye contact with Mick. "I'm Jett. What's your name?"
The boy's haunted eyes met Jett's briefly before darting away. After a moment, he muttered the name, "Mick."
Jett smiled warmly. "Nice to meet you, Mick."
With a nod, Eric said, "I’ll leave Mick in your care, Jett."
Puzzled, Jett turned to Eric, questioning, "Why me?"
Eric's reply was brisk. "I'm terrible with kids, but you seem great with them."
With that, Eric left Mick in the hands of Jett and Whimsy, disappearing down the hallway to his own room.
Jett couldn’t believe Eric. Was he really just going to leave the boy with him? Thinking about it was no use, so Jett turned to face Mick instead.
"So, would you like to play a game?" Jett offered.
Mick's voice was meek as he asked, "What kinda game?"
Jett ruffled his hair in thought. "Maybe a video game?" he suggested.
Mick nodded in agreement, then scanned Jett from head to toe and said, "You’re new here too, right?"
Jett nodded in confirmation.
'There is something familiar about this boy? What is it?' Jett wondered.
Meanwhile, Whimsy interjected. "Well, I'm going out for a drink. You coming?"
Jett declined, "Nah, Ezekiel is still out there looking for me. I can’t afford to risk him finding me by going outside."
"Suit yourself, but don’t just end up like a hermit. Even Batman takes a drink now and then. The last thing I want is for you to end up like Robin... or worse, Jar Jar Binks," Whimsy replied before leaving the apartment.
Turning back to Mick, Jett proposed, "So, you wanna come to my room to play the game?"
Mick agreed, and Jett led him to his room. However, upon entering, Jett realized he didn't have any video games. He had also left his laptop in his apartment.
Mick looked around Jett’s room, then stated, "It doesn’t seem like you have any video games."
Jett replied, "Yeah, well, we could do something else instead," he suggested.
Looking at the ring on his finger, Jett showed it to Mick, "You know what this is?"
Mick timidly remarked, "It’s a ring?"
Jett smirked, then his hands glowed blue as he teleported behind Mick.
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Mick stared at him in wonder. "How'd you do that? The ring?" he asked.
"Yeah, pretty cool, right?"
Mick nodded in agreement. "Yeah. It is."
"This ring is the reason Ezekiel is after me," he disclosed. "Too bad I can’t just remove it and give it to him, though. What about you? Any idea why Ezekiel is after you?"
Mick trembled and looked down, but remained silent.
Jett sensed Mick’s discomfort, so he tried to reassure him, "Oh… you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to."
After a moment of silence, Mick weakly muttered, "He wants what is inside of me…"
***
Whimsy strolled leisurely along the sunlit streets, savoring the gentle morning breeze. As they walked, Whimsy admired the golden rays of sunlight streaming down.
They tilted their head back and looked at the sun. "Just how long has it been since I last soaked up this beautiful ray of yellow apple juice?" they mused to themselves.
Whimsy made their way towards one of their favorite bars, a place where they had many fond memories.
Unbeknownst to Whimsy, across the street, Liam stood, muttering to himself.
"One of my sources said Jett ought to be around here… I don’t see him," Liam muttered.
But then, his attention was drawn to Whimsy as they passed by.
"Oh well, look what the gutter brought up. Who would’ve thought I’d find Whimsy, of all people?" Liam muttered with a smirk. Interested, Liam tailed Whimsy to find out more about what they were up to.
As Whimsy entered the bar, heads turned in their direction. It had been a while since anyone had seen Whimsy around. Making their way to the counter, the bartender, a burly man with a thick beard, greeted Whimsy warmly.
"Hey there, stranger!" the bartender called out with a grin. "We haven’t seen you in a while. Where’ve you been?"
Whimsy leaned against the bar with casual confidence and giggled. "Oh, you know me," they replied with a wink. "Just been busy being kidnapped and kept in an attic. The usual."
The bartender chuckled at Whimsy's jest and poured them a drink, sliding it across the counter.
"Thanks. At least you still remember my usual," Whimsy said, then they settled onto a stool.
Soon after, Liam entered the bar and took a seat beside Whimsy. Liam then signaled the bartender and ordered a drink, his eyes fixed on Whimsy.
Liam then made a casual remark, "It has been a long time, Whimsy. What, like five months?"
Whimsy turned to face Liam, a playful grin spreading across their face. "Um… you are?"
Liam replied, "Cross."
Whimsy paused shortly as they tried to recall where they had heard the name before. Then suddenly, it came to them.
"Oh, Cross, right? Sorry, I've got a bit of memory loss sometimes. Too many drinks, you know how it is," Whimsy joked, taking a sip from their drink. "Glad you're still kicking around. Thought Ezekiel might've fed you to the lions by now. Or, you know, whatever you do in this year now. Do they do lions in suits these days? Maybe with laser eyes for extra pizzazz?"
With a wicked smile, Liam mentioned, "I know you’ve been hiding ever since you stole that ring from Ezekiel."
"You know, I once starred in my version of 'Catch Me If You Can.' Except, instead of Leonardo DiCaprio, it was more like 'Catch Me If You Can... and good luck with that," Whimsy chuckled a bit as they continued. "As for the ring, well, let's just say I borrowed it for a little 'Lord of the Rings' cosplay. One ring to rule them all, right?"
Liam's smile widened, though it held no warmth, as he delved into the matter of Jett. "Speaking of rings, Whimsy. See, Ezekiel and I have been looking for something—or rather, someone. A young man with some... unique abilities. I have a feeling you might know something about him. His name is Jett."
Whimsy's grip tightened around their glass. "Sorry, Liam, can't help you there," they said, trying to pretend to be ignorant about the whole thing. "I'm just trying to enjoy my drink."
Liam, however, wasn't convinced. "You were always a terrible liar. You know who I’m talking about. Where is Jett, Whimsy?"
Whimsy smirked as they retorted, "Why would I tell you that? Last I heard, you and Ezekiel weren't exactly sending him a Christmas card."
Liam remained composed, though a subtle twitch of his mouth hinted at his frustration. "You're right," he said smoothly. "We're not exactly on Jett's holiday card list. But that doesn't change the fact that Ezekiel wants him, and he's not known for taking no for an answer," he countered.
Whimsy shrugged nonchalantly and then took a long and bold swig of their drink. "Not like I give a shit."
Liam's smile turned even colder as he spoke. "You may not give a shit now, but crossing Ezekiel is a dangerous game. And trust me; you don't want to be on his bad side."
Whimsy met Liam's gaze with a chuckle. "Funny," they remarked casually, swirling the liquid in their glass. "I've been on Ezekiel's bad side plenty of times before. Somehow, I always survive."
"You may think you're clever, Whimsy, but you can't outrun fate forever," Liam retorted. "Eventually, Ezekiel will catch up to you. And when he does, I hope you'll remember this moment."
Whimsy chuckled dismissively. "Is that a threat, Liam?"
Liam’s smile widened. "I know your weaknesses, Whimsy, and I’ll exploit them if I have to."
"Oh, I'm sure you will, Liam," Whimsy replied coyly.
Suddenly, Liam seized Whimsy by the throat, his fingers digging into their flesh with a sadistic glee. "Seriously, Whimsy, do you ever shut up?" Liam asked with a more sadistic smile on his face.
Spit flew from Whimsy’s mouth as they struggled for breath, yet they maintained their sense of humor. "Ah, come on, Cross. You're not still mad about that time I replaced your coffee with decaf, are you? It's not my fault you're a little cranky without your caffeine fix."
But Liam’s patience slowly wore thin as the smile on his face slowly became replaced with anger. Liam tightened his grip, his knuckles whitening with the force. "You must think this is a joke?" Liam growled.
"Hey, careful with the sweatshirt, buddy. It's my favorite, you know. Can't have it all wrinkled," Whimsy joked while struggling for breath.
With a frustrated growl, Liam released Whimsy, causing them to gasp for air as they collapsed back onto the barstool. "Damn, even my stalkers aren’t usually this rough…" Whimsy quipped through labored breaths as they held their sore throat.
Liam then stormed out of the bar. Whimsy had to make a parting jab at him. "Leaving so soon, Liam? Don't forget to send Ezekiel my regards. And tell him I'll be expecting an invitation. I hear the hors d'oeuvres at his secret meetings are to die for."
Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Whimsy, a LED indicator blinked next to their neck. As Liam left the bar, he retrieved a tracker from his pocket with a deranged smile. "That idiot," he muttered to himself. "So the tracking device I kept on Whimsy works? It's going to lead me right to Jett…"