Jessica awoke with a start in her bed at home. She sighed with relief. She had dreams all night about going to bossbot HQ and being captured. Then she saw the most horrible vile… things she had ever laid eyes on. She shuddered. No more volcano sauce before bed.

Jessica sat up and yawned. She didn't remember buying the nightgown she was wearing, but it didn't matter. She was safe at home, and the cogs couldn't get at her. She noticed she had cramps in her back and sides, and her throat stung when she swallowed. But that was probably just the volcano sauce.

She felt good. She was a pink cat in a pink house surrounded by many objects in pink. She thought she would call Una Uno later and go out to dinner. That would be nice.

The 17-year-old cat went to the fridge to whip up some pancakes, but it was empty. That was strange. She always kept her fridge well stocked. Jessica also noticed that her phone was missing. That was even stranger.

But when she went to the door to go outside and feed her doodle, all color drained from her face.

Because instead of a door, there was a set of iron bars.

***

Five days away. His dinner party was five days away, and the C.E.O's dining hall was still a wreck. The masses of Corporate Raiders he had invited wouldn't like this. The C.E.O. signaled for as many flunkies as he could muster down to clean up this mess.

The C.E.O. rolled up from the rubbish and up the ramp to the communications chamber. He half-hoped that there was an update on the Cashbot HQ situation. Any distraction at all from the horror of what he was going to do to that poor toon in the toon chamber. The C.E.O. had scanned her brain for what she perceived as home, and then used the data to create a copy in a jail cell. It was pretty obvious to someone with half a hard drive to figure out where you were in that cell with a little computing, but in was the best the C.E.O. could muster.

The C.E.O. saw an incoming signal and opened the line. One of his trusted Level 13 The Big Cheeses was the sender. "Permission to speak, sir."

"Granted."

"Well, sir, the pathway leading to Cashbot HQ has been completely destroyed."

"Pardon?"

"I mean, it's all rubble."

"What about the entrance to Cashbot HQ? Shouldn't it have been destroyed, too?"

"Well, you see, sir, it's all destroyed until right before the entrance to Cashbot HQ. There's a toon building that was cut in half."

The C.E.O. searched his memory for what could've done such a deed, and the light bulb in his head lit up. "Bot 1842947, I want you to find and record all of the information you can on the Pendant of Psyche. This is your and your team's new objective from now on."

"What, sir?"

"That's an order."

"…Y-Yes, sir."

The C.E.O. smiled at the new lead and terminated the link.

***

Woody stared at Clancy and Tightrope, who were passed out from abuse of alcohol. Alcohol is strictly prohibited in Toontown, it was a felony if you drank even a shot glass of beer, and furthermore, a toon suffers permanent brain damage and serious amnesia from a binge on the magnitude of the pendant's enchantment.

Woody seriously considered dumping the two unfriendly agents down a Telehole to Toontown Central, but it was very likely that the two couldn't say their ABCs by the time they woke up. If they woke up.

Woody almost took the pendant off of his neck, but would rather keep it on in case of an emergency. The voice said, If you do not wish to use the pendant at this time, think, "off" When you would like to use it again, think, "on."

Woody thought "off" and the pendant turned a dullish gray. He then knelt down and crawled to the phone, for he was still under the weight of the usage of the pendant. He called Lucy, and when she answered, Woody informed in a rather hoarse voice the events of the past six minutes.

"Oh my." Lucy responded. "This isn't good. Wait a minute, and I'll be over with some energy bars and some celery sticks."

"And bring Pop, too." Woody croaked.

"And I'll bring Pop, too." Lucy repeated before hanging up.

Woody put the last of his strength into sitting up the muscular Tightrope and the obese Clancy on the boat-couch. He then grasped the armchair for support, and silently slung himself onto the comfy chair. He was thoroughly worn out.

Just as Woody was about to pass into the wonderful flying dreams one has when life is going great (or a horrible hellish nightmare when one's life is going terribly, Woody couldn't really tell which), there was a clatter on the door that you would compare to a wood mouse kick-boxing against a door next to a microphone hooked up to surround-sound speakers. In this case, however, it was Lucy's secret knock.

Woody groggily opened his eyes and ran into several walls due to his blurry vision before finally reaching the door. He half opened it and fell over. Then he blacked out.

***

Lucy was a worry-wart. She had been called a worry-wart ever since she was two years old, when she commented on how dangerous it was to light candles next to a paper-Mache display. But in the past few days, she had been doing a lot more worrying than usual.

Her natural response to this was to cook. She also liked to cook difficult, challenging meals, like making a 700-calorie meal that's main ingredient was peanut butter. It helped her take her mind off of her worrying, and she did so often. She called it stress-cooking.

Never in her life did she expect to see one of her dearest friends collapsed twice, let alone three times! She felt that if she worried any more about poor Woody, she would have a heart attack. It wasn't right for a toon to worry. It conflicted with their carefree nature.

Pop, on the other hand, was the calm spot in the storm. From his rough upbringing on a sailing ship, he had learned every tough spot that could happen in Toontown, and how to avoid or conquer it. He also developed a taste for Lucy's cooking, because for most of the year before he retired he only ate pickled jellybeans!

Yet Pop was worried about Woody, too. He was a youth who still needed to earn his "sea legs" among regular toons. In fact, Woody was the only thing Pop had ever worried about.

When Woody collapsed after opening the door, Lucy went into worry overdrive. Pop just sighed, shook his head, and picked up Woody and tucked him into bed. He had had enough for one day.

"So what about the TIA agents? They won't be able to count to two when they wake up." Lucy asked Pop.

"If they wake up." Pop reminded her.

"Right." Lucy said with a worried face. "Well, we better just wait. Nothing to be done when nobody's awake."

"I agree completely." said Pop, who was already dozing off in a lounge chair. "And don't be cookin, now, we don't want for Woody to pay the grocery bill." Pop fell into his usual deep sleep.

Lucy noticed she was seriously worn out too, from worrying so much. She settled into a living room chair and slept.

***

"I agree completely." –Pop Hop