Jazz wasn't particularly interested in anything the strange man had to offer. She ignored the new clothes that appeared in her already giant wardrobe, brushed aside all the fancy food he placed on her table, and only ever shrugged at the thought of his library. In fact, the girl would've preferred it not be there to begin with, though in the end, she still chose to spend her time there. After all, it was the only place she could go for any whereabouts on her parents, or her little brother. Rarely did she ever open up a book there, and even when her mind cried out for it, she shoved away those desires, never one to give into temptation.

The first night, when she ate dinner in the castle, she was silent. She didn't feel like eating, no matter what anyone else did, no matter who tried coaxing her. Mr. Masters kept asking if she was okay, if she was hungry, but Jazz simply shook her head; she wouldn't say anything to him. She still remembered Mom's warning, about stranger-danger. Even if the girl was in his house, even if her parents knew him, Jazz held fast to those precious words, and continued with her uncooperative attitude. She remembered pushing the chair away from her tiny chest, and promptly leaving for her room. She locked the door that night, and slept.

The following nights were a bit easier to handle, though of course, she hadn't gotten used to all the butlers and maids waiting on her, the impatience embedded in their frowns. Normally, she wouldn't have found them outside one of Danny's superhero movies, but here they were, ready to do everything they could to please her. It was so weird; she felt like they were always watching her, pressuring her into moving faster so that the day could be over, ensuring that they gave her the sweetest of compliments, if only for the sake of their raise. Sometimes, she'd catch them giving her a strange look, their whispers easily circulating around her back. Though they would always give her those same, pitying eyes, Jazz could already deduce their lack of empathy. In fact, perhaps the only time the servants ever really bothered taking care of her was whenever Mr. Masters was around. She didn't know when it got to be too much to handle, but Jazz did remember asked if they could all leave her alone. Mr. Masters obliged, and before she knew it, no one was around. She felt relieved, for the first time in a while.

Yet those prying eyes were replaced by a more stubborn obstacle. She couldn't even begin to recall how many times Mr. Masters knocked on her door, even if it was just to make sure she was alright. Usually, his requests ranged from watching a simple movie, to playing chess; just one or two rounds. Or checkers; Jazz always liked checkers. Or even cards, or poker; it didn't matter, as long as Jazz came out of her room.

Personally, Jazz wasn't up to it most of the time. She knew she sucked at chess, even if Mr. Masters kept letting her win, and though she destroyed him at checkers, she was all too bored of that game. And besides, she felt like she had better things to do with her time. Having Mr. Masters hanging around her like would only get in her way.

However, over time she gradually warmed up to him. The emotions manifested one evening, when Mr. Masters pulled (dragged) her from her room to share a game of chess.

As usual, Jazz was staring off into space, while waiting on Mr. Masters to make a move. Her sad little eyes were brimming with annoyance, as she fought the urge to look down at the board. The layout was so complicated Jazz never bothered paying attention. She didn't understand why the man liked playing the game so much, but then again, she couldn't understand him much at all.

She laid her little head on her arms, and bit her lip. At that point, Jazz didn't have the heart to ask the man, once more, when her parents were coming to get her; if they were looking for her, they'd be there by now. Her mind kept racing for explanations, wondering if they'd simply given up on looking, if they had already moved somewhere, if they were even alright. She couldn't help but close her eyes, her frail hands kept hovering over the pieces, stroking the night with sleepy eyes.

She couldn't help but look up at the man, who was still looking at the board quizzically. Surprise was etched into his eyes. It looked like he wanted to ask her something, but for some reason, he refrained from doing so.

Jazz looked up. "Your turn," she said quietly.

"I know, I know," he murmured softly.

After a few minutes passed, she repeated, "Your turn."

"Right dear girl; just be patient."

She blinked. Before long, she looked back down. The black and white pieces made her head spin. Still, she felt like she recognized the pattern from somewhere.

The girl cocked her head. Mom and Dad used to play chess all the time. Dad always beat Mom, but there was this one time, when she managed to turn the tables. Jazz knew, because moments later, she got up and started dancing, leaving Dad to stare incredulously at the board.

Then her eyes widened.

She stared at the man, and beamed. "Checkmate," her squeaky voice stated.

Mr. Masters regarded her, a slow smile forming on his lips. "Don't be so sure dear girl." With one, swift move, he maneuvered the horsey over to the cross thingy. Jazz narrowed her eyes, as she got up on her knees, and leaned over toward the board. Her orange hair spilled on her shoulders, her eyes sparked by the challenge. She picked up one piece, the one that looked like a rectangle, and got rid of the horsey. "Checkmate," she said again.

He moved one piece.

She moved another.

He moved the ball piece.

Her lady piece destroy it.

He moved another rectangle piece.

And she killed that too.

By the time the game was over, Jazz stared down at all the white pieces she's managed to capture. She then looked over at the pieces that Mr. Masters had, and giggled, his reaction cautiously winning her over. She moved her lady piece over, and finally captured the king. She swayed back and forth happily, as she looked up at Mr. Masters, who was still staring at the board. She giggled again. "I won."

Mr. Masters snapped back to reality. He smiled then. "You're right Jasmine," he said quietly. "You won."

She paused for a brief moment, before shaking her head. "Those times don't count!"

"What're you-?"

"You let me win all those other times, didn't you Mr. Masters?"

"Oh?" he asked, raising an amused eyebrow. He settled back in his seat, hands folded neatly in his lap. "And whatever gave you that idea?"

"Because last time, you let me kill your horsey!" she explained.

"…Horsey…?"

"This thing!" she stated, as she lifted up the piece. Mr. Masters took a split second to examine the piece in question, before chuckling. "A knight, my dear."

"A what?"

"A knight."

Jazz stared down at the piece, and furrowed her eyebrows.

There's no way.

No possible way.

In her expert opinion, this was not a knight. Knights are supposed to be big and strong, and they were supposed to make sure that the princesses are always saved by the end of the fairytales. They were handsome, and vigilant, and…well, human. The girlie she held in her hand was anything but.

Jazz looked up defiantly at Mr. Masters. "Nu-uh."

"It's true."

"No."

"It is."

They kept going back and forth like that for the rest of the night.

After that, slowly, but surely, the apprehension started to leave her. Soon, everything became routine; she would get up, eat breakfast, see Mr. Masters off, wander around the castle for a bit, then go to bed. She rarely ever went to the library, and if she did, it was only because she was thought she'd found another lead. And yet, despite that lead, she'd find herself staying there for hours on end, just staring at those books with her wide, empty eyes, her curiosity getting harder and harder to ignore with each passing day.

She didn't know when it happened, when she finally mustered up the courage to read a single book. The shelves were so high, but she managed to grab it. When she pulled the cover to her face, elegant words flashed before her eyes, the golden seams reflecting her lonely expression back up at her. She read the title, and then…

She stood there, for the longest time.

It was a bedtime story, a fairy tale Mom used to read to her, and after that, what Jazz would read to Danny. Except with him, she would replace all the princes with Superman and Batman, the princesses with damsels in distresses, the kingdom with a metropolis of some sort, a city that only she could come up with.

She couldn't help but smile at the title, and before she knew it, she curled up somewhere, in the loneliest corner of the library, and read.

By the time Mr. Masters came back to the castle, Jazz remembered ambling up to him excitedly. She held the book up to him, and asked if he could read it to her after dinner.

Days became weeks, weeks became months, months years. Jazz started calling Mr. Masters "Father" over time, the connotation fitting the old man somehow. He did hire private tutors for her, knowing full well that sooner or later, Jazz would have to make her debut, not as a normal, middle-class girl, but as an intelligent, charismatic socialite. The girl understood that, and so, she started picking up those shattered remains of her old life, and molded them into a kaleidoscope known as Jasmine Masters.

Jazz leaned on everything she taught herself, and excelled in every subject that came her way. She practiced her foreign languages, annihilated those tests, and somehow, managed to get herself through her numbness. There were times when she found herself staring up at the ceiling, not to wonder when her family was going to show, or if Danny was safe, or if she would ever see them again; rather, she thought about what tomorrow would bring to her, whether or not her adopted father would get off from work early again, if she could somehow sneak into his office, and surprise him with some made-up holiday she fantasized just moments before. Still, her family was always in the back of her mind, and when the anticipation had gone, when the excitement died down, she couldn't help but feel guilty about her own happiness, the remorse crushing down on her chest so easily. Then worry would overtake her, and then…nothing. The cycle would just repeat for the next day.

It wasn't long before Jazz lost her patience with that cycle. Yes, she loved her father, but she also loved them. Mr. Masters told her that they were coming for her, and to this day, she still clung to that belief. And if they weren't going to find her, then she was going to find them.

It was one of the reasons why she started doing those charity drives, one of the reasons why she started traveling all over the world. She told herself that she wasn't going to wallow in self-pity, at least, not anymore. If her parents were out there, and if they found her like this, what would they say? What would Danny say? No, she couldn't depend on them anymore. They might've gotten themselves into really bad trouble. They might've been searching for her too, but they just couldn't find her. There were a million reasons why they weren't there, and if any one of them were true, then Jazz needed to put herself out there.

Thankfully, Mr. Masters supported her endeavors. He told her that it gave her a chance to see what kind of people were watching her. It was tough, she had to admit. When the wealthy socialites heard that Mr. Masters had an adopted daughter, they immediately flocked around her. Like the servants before, they all kept demanding favors from her, kept complimenting her, with the same, avaricious eyes she'd grown to expect. When they heard about the charity parties, those wealthy circles made sure to give a portion of their income to the Masters, some as donations, others as bribes. Of course, Jazz didn't accept any of the bribes; her father had long since taught her how to tell when someone was trying to curry her favor. She learned from the various chess matches they've played together, the business meetings he's taken her to, anything at all, how to tell who was a friend, who was an enemy. She learned how to avoid all the pitfalls of society, how careful you had to be with an image she managed to forge for herself. Yes, he would be there to support the girl, but in the end, it was all up to Jazz, to make sure that she didn't betray the expectations everyone wanted from her.

Everyday, she'd always get phone calls, some from admirers from far away, others from important people, really important people she didn't know the names too. She utilized the lessons her father taught her, and separated who was useful, who wasn't. She kept the names in her mind, in case she needed them again. This one could help her find her family. This other one had the resources to fund a search party. This one might be able to help get her father to relax. She separated them, and then she'd look up at the high cielings, and sigh.

There was still no word on her family.

After months of throwing herself into her father's society, she would still find herself scanning the crowds, trying to find even the slightest glimpse of familiarity. She wanted to picture her parents there, in the audience, waving at her enthusiastically from beyond the shadows. She wanted to imagine little Danny stumbling on the stairs, as he ran up to greet his equally tear-faced sister. And each and every time she did, she could feel her face fall. Father told her not to give up, but it was easier said than done.

One day, she decided she was going to go back to Amity Park. For some strange reason, it took months just to pinpoint the town, even more so, because it wasn't even on the map anymore. Still, Jazz never bothered with the details. As Jasmine Masters, she had the authority to go anywhere as she pleased, provided she had permission from her father. And, just as she expected, he too, wanted to leave. So he called the company and took a few days off from it. The two packed their bags, went to the nearest airport, and flew over to the town.

Jazz couldn't even begin to describe the anticipation she felt. She kept imagining her parents kind faces in her mind, their smiles instantly brightening her day. She kept shaping and reshaping Danny in her mind, though that curious gleam would never leave his eyes. What'd they look like now? It'd been almost six years after all; Mom and Dad were probably all old and gray. Danny might be taller than she was, though of course, he was still just two years younger than she was. She stole a look at her father, and he smiled back; he was just as nervous as she.

When the plane landed, she couldn't stop herself from springing up from her seat. She grabbed their bags, as well as her father's hand, and burst out of the private jet. She kept looking around and around, the unfamiliar sights pushing against her mind. She looked up at her father, who was patiently waiting for the limousine to drive up to them. When the car finally stopped, Jazz took both their bags, slammed them into the limousine, and pushed her father inside. She'd already relayed to the driver over and over again the address they were supposed to go to.

It won't be long now, before she finally got to see them again. She was so excited she kept bouncing up and down in her seat, an enthusiastic smile plastered on her face. From the corner of her eyes, she could make out her father's anxious expression. She couldn't help but laugh then.

She knew why he was so nervous. And the answer would be no; though she loved her family, she was still going to live with her father. It's just that now, she has two really great ones. She even held his hand, reassuring him that everything was going to be fine, that in the end, she'll be Jasmine Masters, though she preferred he call her "Jazz" from now on.

She couldn't wait to introduce her father to Danny, but he probably knows her parents. It'd be just like a family reunion! This was too good to be true!

She was so wrapped up in her excitement, that she never noticed how quiet the town was. She never noticed how there were so very few people wandering about. She never noticed the inhabitants peering out toward her, with curiosity on their faces. She never noticed how cautious her father seemed, the very frown on his face telling him that something wasn't right. She never noticed how deserted everything was, compared to the vibrancy of her childhood she enjoyed so much. She never noticed the rundown buildings, nor did she take in the silhouettes, fleeing from the sounds of the car.

So it came as a complete shock to her, when she saw her former home.

There was yellow tape surrounding the red building. All the windows were shattered, and the overgrown weeds distorted the once clean pavement. Blue spray paint coated the door, covered in gibberish she couldn't possibly hope to understand. The large, Fenton Works sign had long since been taken down, and when she walked toward the building, remnants of fluorescent bulbs crunched beneath her feet. If she squinted, she could see tiny cobwebs floating in the distance, with small mice swarming everywhere. From what it looked like, no one had lived there in years.

Father didn't say anything, and neither did she.

Still, Jazz took a deep breath, straightened herself. She quietly came toward the yellow police tape, and crept up to the doorstep, with her father following closely behind. She was just about to creak open the door, when he pushed her back protectively. In that same moment, the door opened, the dust and dirt falling over on their faces. After a few seconds of hesitation, Jazz nudged her father in the door, the same way he had when he first adopted her.

She clutched his arm, as she looked around the barren room.

Where were they?

Where was everything?

The furniture?

The TV?

The bookshelf?

Everything?

"Mom?" she heard herself ask. "Dad?"

Slowly, she let go of her father, who was still shocked beyond belief. She never bothered reading his expression, as she kept going, her little body shifting through the darkness. She caught sight of a few cigarette buds here and there, a few strands of torn paper here and there. She narrowed her eyes, as she crept up the staircase, the forlorn light giving way to the dust dancing around her.

"Danny?" she mumbled.

"What happened here?" she could hear her father mutter to himself. He looked up at Jazz, as if expecting her to answer his question, to help him get through the befuddling mystery. She could only brush him aside, her throat thick with pain, as she continued on her way. She finally came to the upstairs, where she peered through the bedroom doors.

Empty, just like all the other rooms.

Slowly, she turned away. She descended down the stairwell, and surveyed the musty surroundings. She bit her lip, and walked over to a large, iron doorway. She paused for a brief moment, then, in a single second, she started down the lab, the fondness of her own memories swirling around her. She remembered how Danny and she raced down the stairs, trying to get to their parents. Danny kept smashing his fingertips on the railings, railings that Jazz couldn't help but linger on. She gripped the metal tightly, then made her way downstairs.

Her footsteps descended down the stairwell. When she came down, her hand fumbled for the light switch. From the moment she turned it on, she froze.

Red.

And black.

And white.

And green.

She felt herself double over.

Her world suddenly caved in around her, the shadows of her own, saccharine past clawing at her chest. She clutched her heart, her knees giving way to the weight of her own ignorance. She could feel tears streaming down her cheeks. She could feel all the breath in her body slam out, her lungs desperately trying to retrieve some back. She could feel herself falling to the cold ground, palms against the ground, as she endeavored getting a hold of herself. She could feel her father's arms surrounding her, trying to calm her down.

No.

No.

They'd come back for her.

Father said they would.

She clutched her mouth with both hands.

She was going to throw up.

And suddenly, she heard something.

Shakily, she stood. She looked out at the lab, at the overturned equipment, at the empty syringes, at the broken beakers. There was a large table, towards the back of the room, that was lying on its side. It was silver, with rust covering the corners. She could make out the slightest traces of two, innocent shadows, shivering in the corner. She felt herself move, one step at a time. She could feel her father's eyes bore her back, following her gaze to the destination she was coming towards table.

He stood. "Jasmine, wait-!"

Carefully, she laid her hands on the edge of the table, and peeked behind it.

There were two children.

A boy and a girl. The boy was unconscious, passed out in the girl's arms. The girl scowled, her feral eyes frightened at Jazz's sudden appearance. They both had dark, raven hair, and though Jazz couldn't see through the boy, she was shocked by the girl's pure, amethyst eyes. They were both pale, both emaciated, both covered in what appeared to be tattered, white hospital gowns. Their dirt-ridden faces gave little way to the horror on the faces.

She couldn't remember what the girl was saying to her.

She only kept her eyes trained on the boy, who had just woken up from his sleep.

The first thing Jazz saw, was his clear, cerulean eyes.