Pope and Kie were already waiting on the porch when John B and JJ arrived back at the chateau, having received a text from JJ telling them to come quickly.

JJ filled them in while John B sat quietly.

"And we were right outside like this," she explained dramatically, moving to lean against the side of the house, "and all we hear is Bam! Bam! Bam! Knocking paint off the wall, G. From the inside! Alright? And I'm just looking at him like," she pointed to John B, who stared wide-eyed at her wild reenactment of what happened, "Wait, first off, look at this shit." She stood in front of Pope and used her hand to shake dried paint out of her hair.

"That's dandruff, disgusting," Kie said, clearly skeptical of JJ's story.

"Okay, thank you," Pope muttered as he brushed white flakes off his lap.

"Look at all that, alright? That's paint. At that point, I was just like, I'm waiting for death," JJ continued.

Pope decided to cut in on JJ's wildly exaggerated tale, "Okay, so you saw the guys that shot at us, right?"

"Yeah," JJ confirmed.

"Did you get a good description of them?" he asked. "What did they look like?"

"Anything," Kie chimed in.

"Anything we can bring to a police report?" Pope added.

"Yeah," Kie agreed.

JJ thought about it for a second, but between trying not to panic and trying not to get lost in flashbacks of her father, she couldn't really remember much. "Burly," she finally said lamely.

"Burly…," Pope stated incredulously.

"Yeah," JJ nodded, lighting up a cigarette.

"That's not very helpful," Kie noted.

"Okay, well, no, like the type of guys at my dad's garage," JJ tried to explain. "I mean, you guys know he made cargo hides for drug smugglers."

"Yeah. Yes. No, we know," Kie nodded, humoring her.

"Right, so I can tell you with full confidence. These boys, these killers…" JJ took a puff of her cigarette. "They're square groupers."

"They're square groupers, like narcos square groupers?" Pope said disbelievingly. "Like Pablo Escobar square group?"

"Yeah, man," JJ insisted, glancing at John B, wishing he would say something, anything.

"You guys, not everything is a kingpin movie," Kie shook her head at them.

"What does this square grouper look like specifically?" Pope asked again, but he sounded like he was teasing her.

"You weren't there, bro!" JJ said, irritated.

"Well, apparently you don't know what to look for," Pope snapped back.

"Dude! I wasn't taking little mental Polaroids the whole time. I was under duress, okay?!" JJ yelled back at him. She took a second to calm down. "But I can tell you," she paused. "I can tell you by the way Mrs. Lana was screaming, that these guys are serious, serious hombres, man."

Pope and Kie fell silent at that, and John B opened the compass.

"It's a heavy vibe right now, okay?" JJ said to fill the silence. "I'm not liking this very much."

"Why do they want the compass?" Kie asked.

"It's a piece of shit. You couldn't pawn it off for five bucks if you wanted to," Pope added, causing JJ to glare at his lack of tact. "No offense, John B. I know it's in your family."

They all looked at John B, who had stood up. Finally, he said, "The office."

"What?" Pope asked, confused.

"My dad, my dad's office," John B explained, then walked inside the house toward the room that was always locked. "He always kept the office locked because he was worried about his competitors stealing his Royal Merchant research."

JJ had only been in there twice in all the years she'd been around. The first time was when she and John B were in fourth grade, and he convinced her it would be funny to scare Big John by jumping out from behind the desk. John B stole the key and unlocked the door, then went back to return the key. When he returned, they crept inside, locked the door from the inside, and crawled underneath the desk to wait for Big John. Soon enough, the door opened, and Big John walked in. John B and JJ jumped up, yelling 'Boo!' Big John spilled his coffee all over his shirt. She'd closed her eyes, bracing for a beating, but Big John just gave her an odd look and shooed them off with a stern, 'Don't play in my office again.'

The second time was a week after Big John was determined lost at sea. She'd come home from work to find John B standing in the middle of the room, looking like a lost puppy. That night was hard, as John B broke down, crying himself to sleep. JJ held him the whole night. The next day, John B acted like it never happened, and JJ never brought it up either. Instead, she chose to offer her support silently, with physical gestures and just being there for him. She'd let him come to her, not wanting to push him into anything he wasn't ready for.

JJ sighed sadly as they followed John B to his dad's office.

"We used to laugh at him like he was actually gonna find it, but now that he's gone, I've just kinda… I just left it as he kept it." John B hesitated at the door before pulling out his keys.

"Yeah. For when he gets back," Kie soothed.

"Yeah," John B agreed shakily, turning the key into the lock. JJ watched him sadly, knowing digging through his dad's office was going to be tough. John B opened the door and stepped in.

"I've slept over here like 600 times and I've never seen this door open," Pope remarked as he entered.

"Mm," Kie agreed.

John B grabbed a bulletin board and placed it where they could all see. "Here, look, this is the original owner right here," he pointed at a small note in the corner.

"Okay, Robert Q. Routledge," Kie read aloud, "1880 to 1920. There's the lucky compass right there." She pointed at an old black and white photo next to it showing an older man in a military blues uniform, the compass dangling from his pocket.

"Actually, um… he was shot after he bought it," John B said sheepishly. "Then the compass was shipped back to Henry." He pointed at another old photo of a man standing in a doorway with his wife. "Henry was killed in a crop-dusting accident while he had the compass. After he died, the compass was given to Stephen." He pointed to a photo of a younger man in military battle gear standing outside what appeared to be his deployment location. "Stephen had the compass when he went to Vietnam."

"Let me guess, he died in action, right?" JJ asked, not liking the pattern of bad luck following the compass.

"Sort of. Uh, actually, he was killed by a banana truck. In-country," John B stuttered out. "Anyways, after that, Stephen passed the compass down to my dad." He pointed at a color photo of Big John sitting with a young John B.

"Hm. Sounds like there's a recurring theme here," JJ pointed out, clearly freaked out.

"Yeah, you have a death compass," Pope backed her up.

"I do not—" John B started to object.

"You have a death compass," Pope interrupted.

"Get rid of it," JJ begged, already convinced the compass had brought them enough trouble. "It's cursed and it's made its way back to you."

John B ignored them as he seemed to remember something. "Look, my dad used to talk about this compartment in here." He sat down to fiddle with the compass. "Soldiers used to hide secret notes." Carefully, he unscrewed something and pulled it off.

"What's that?" Kie asked, leaning closer to examine some letters carved into the compass.

John B replied, excited, "That wasn't there before. This is my dad's handwriting."

"How can you know that?" Pope asked doubtfully.

"Because he does these weird R's with the," he held it up for Pope to see, "see it?"

"Can I see it?" JJ asked, curious. He held it out for her to examine.

She squinted at the letters, but the letters seemed to dance and shift before her eyes. "Red- Rout- no, I think that's an A-"

"It says Redfield," Kie observed, giving her a strange look. JJ felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment. Why did she even attempt to read it? Now, they would know for sure how stupid she was.

"Right," she muttered, trying to save face as if she had known the name all along and was merely teasing them.

"Okay, well what's Redfield?" Kie asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Besides the most common name in the county," Pope chimed in, adding a touch of dry humor. John B lowered his face into his hands, his mind racing.

"Maybe... maybe it's a clue. Maybe it's a clue to where he's hiding," he suggested, his voice tinged with desperation as he grasped for any shred of hope.

"Okay," JJ said, attempting to mask her doubt for John B's sake, though she knew it was evident in her voice.

"A clue? Come on, that's-" Pope began, but he was cut off by the rooster's crow and a pointed clearing of Kie's throat, urging him to silence. JJ nudged him with her elbow, and Pope shifted gears. "But if it is a clue, maybe it's an anagram?"

John B seized upon the idea eagerly. "Yes, perfect! Anagram. We need paper." He fumbled around, grabbing some paper and thrusting it toward Pope. "Here you go."

The rooster crowed once more.

"How can you concentrate with that thing crowing at you?" Pope grumbled, attempting to focus on unraveling any possible anagram from 'Redfield.'

"JJ loves the rooster," John B defended the noisy bird, earning a wide smile from JJ as she joined Pope to assist.

"I love the rooster," Kie chimed in.

"Let me think," Pope said, concentrating hard as he worked on the puzzle.

"Seriously, think," Kie added, trying to be helpful but not helpful at all. John B found another piece of paper and handed it along with a pencil to Pope.

"Dedfiel. Colors? That's stupid," Pope muttered, frustration evident in his voice. To JJ, it all sounded like a jumble of random words. Meanwhile, John B scribbled on his piece of paper.

"What about Ritalin? It starts with an R," JJ suggested randomly, trying to contribute.

"Um... Dreidel? Fiddler?" Kie added, and JJ couldn't help but wonder if she was also just throwing out random words.

"Guys, let's stick to what we've-" John B began, trying to refocus the group. John B's attention was suddenly diverted as he noticed movement in his peripheral vision. He peered through the window in front of him and saw a truck pulling up to the house. It was unfamiliar to him.

"Drile. Does that mean anything to you?" Pope asked, hoping for a breakthrough.

"Guys," John B interjected nervously.

Lost in their pursuit of an anagram, they didn't hear him at first.

"Guys! Somebody's here!" John B finally yelled urgently, grabbing their attention. They all looked up to see two large men stepping out of the truck, their arrival causing a tense silence to descend upon the room.

"Guys, guys, is that them?" Kie asked anxiously.

"No," JJ replied tensely, recognizing the two men from earlier.

"Is that them?!" Kie panicked, her fear mounting.

"This is suboptimal," Pope remarked matter-of-factly, his calm demeanor contrasting sharply with the tension in the room.

"John B, I told you. Why does it always-" JJ began to pace, her panic palpable. She could hardly think, consumed by fear. All she could see were vivid memories: Mrs. Lana beaten badly, and flashes of her own past with her father.

John B stepped in front of JJ, gripping her shoulders firmly. "Hey, look at me," he urged, locking eyes with her, silently willing her to calm down. She retreated towards the wall, focusing on her breathing, John B matching her step for step.

"Where's the gun?" he asked urgently.

"Gun? I, uh, I can't-" JJ stammered, struggling to think clearly over the ringing in her ears. John B gently cupped her face, his thumbs brushing across her cheekbones, trying to soothe her.

"Now you don't have the gun, the one time we need it?" Kie complained, her fear evident. John B wanted to tell her to shut up, but he knew she was just scared.

"It was in my backpack, and then I-" JJ tried to remember.

"Backpack," John B interrupted, recalling, "on the porch."

"On the porch," JJ confirmed, feeling a slight wave of relief knowing where the gun was. She broke away from John B and hurried towards the porch before he could stop her.

"JJ, no!" John B whispered urgently, but she was determined. They needed that gun, and she couldn't let John B risk himself again. His life meant more to her than her own.

But it was too late.

"John Routledge!" one of the men shouted as they burst through the front door. JJ froze in her tracks, pivoting on the hard floor and sprinting back to the office as silently as she could. Fortunately, they hadn't spotted her.

"Come on out now! Where's the compass?!" they demanded, their voices echoing through the house.

Inside the office, JJ shut the door softly behind her and locked it. John B swiftly grabbed her, checking her over in a quick panic. "Where's the gun?"

"They're on the front porch," JJ whispered apologetically. John B squeezed her hand, a gesture she hadn't even noticed he had made.

Outside, the men's voices grew louder, screaming threats and tossing furniture around in their search.

"Guys, we gotta leave," Kie reminded urgently, snapping John B and JJ out of their silent conversation. They sprang into action at the sound of glass shattering.

"Guys, window!" Kie exclaimed urgently.

John B and Pope struggled to open it, but it wouldn't budge.

"Hurry," Kie urged, growing increasingly anxious as the window still refused to open. "What's happening? Why is it taking so long?"

Fed up with Kie's panic, which wasn't helping anyone, JJ snapped from where she stood, "It's painted shut, okay?" It was painfully obvious.

"I'll check the kitchen," one of the men's voices could be heard saying from outside.

Kie hurried over to the desk and returned with a flat-edged object, finally being helpful. "Okay, guys. Guys, I got it," she said determinedly, as the boys stepped aside to let her scrape at the painted window frame.

"Check the back room!" they heard the men shout from somewhere inside the house. The urgency in their voices was palpable.

"The yelling's getting closer," JJ urged Kie, pushing her to work faster.

"I'm going as fast as I can," Kie stressed, her hands working frantically to free the window.

Pope and John B hushed them urgently from where they stood at the door. The footsteps were approaching rapidly, and the doorknob began to jiggle.

"You better not be in there!" the man's voice screamed from the other side of the door.

Kie scraped away at the paint faster, nearly finishing. The boys positioned themselves against the door, bracing for impact as the man started kicking at it. Just in time, they managed to pry open the window. They climbed through it hastily, their hearts racing.

They barely made it out before they heard a gunshot ring out from inside the house.

They needed to find a hiding place quickly. JJ tugged at John B's hand, again unsure when he had grabbed hers, and nodded towards the chicken coop.

He nodded in agreement, and they moved stealthily towards it, slipping inside to hide.

A few minutes later, John B watched nervously as the two men carried boxes of items from his dad's office to the bed of their truck. The rooster crowed loudly, its agitation at the intrusion adding to the already tense atmosphere.

"Do something, Pope, shut him up," Kie whispered urgently, nudging Pope since he was closest to the rooster.

"What do you want me to do?" Pope asked helplessly.

"Pet him, talk to him, I don't know," Kie cried desperately.

The chickens began clucking in reaction to the rooster's agitation, drawing the attention of one of the large men. Panic surged.

"Someone do something," Pope whispered urgently. Without hesitation, JJ darted towards the rooster and caught it in her hands.

She held the rooster lovingly to her chest, stroking him softly in a desperate attempt to calm him down. The man drew closer, his presence menacing.

Despite her efforts, the rooster remained agitated, and JJ could sense the impending danger. As the man reached for his gun, JJ closed her eyes, knowing what she had to do. A tear escaped her eye as she broke the rooster's neck.

Silence.

"Ratter, what the hell are you doing? Let's go!" the other man yelled impatiently at his companion who had been peering at the chicken coop. 'Ratter,' as they now knew him, reluctantly followed orders and walked back to the truck. The unnamed man started the engine while Ratter shut the tailgate.

Inside the chicken coop, Kie sobbed quietly in her corner, comforted by Pope. John B watched in silence as the truck pulled away and drove off. Meanwhile, JJ couldn't tear her eyes away from the rooster she had just killed to protect them.

Feeling Kie's accusing eyes on her as she sobbed, JJ grappled with the weight of her actions. She knew Kie didn't have a deep attachment to the rooster beyond it being a living creature. But JJ also knew she had acted out of necessity—those men posed a real threat. She tried to justify her actions in her mind, reasoning that it was a matter of survival. If she hadn't acted decisively, they might all be facing much worse consequences.

JJ stared at the lifeless eyes of her beloved rooster, overwhelmed with grief. She had grown to love that rooster deeply—it had been more than just a pet to her.

John B had declared it was her rooster a couple months after he had found her hiding in there that one night. JJ had confessed she was jealous of him having the rooster and chickens. When he'd asked 'why, they're just chickens?' with amusement in his eyes, she'd told him she never had a pet before and besides the rooster wasn't just any ordinary rooster. He was a guardian angel.'

John B had understood her sentiment and affectionately dubbed the rooster as now belonging to her. 'He's your guardian angel rooster then. Perhaps he can keep watching over our chickens too though?' He'd asked politely with friendly teasing thick in his tone. She'd just smiled wide at him, like he'd just given her a puppy. She'd helped to take care of it and she'd spent many occasions talking to the rooster when she didn't want the company of human ears.

Now, as she looked down at the rooster she had just killed to protect them all, the weight of her actions hit her even harder. The rooster that had been dubbed her guardian angel was gone, sacrificed to ensure their safety. She struggled to reconcile her love for the rooster with the necessity of what she had done.

He was dead and JJ had killed him.

After John B confirmed that the men weren't coming back, he glanced back and his heart broke at the sight of JJ on her knees next to the lifeless rooster. Her hands were clenched into fists as she struggled to hold back tears, her grief palpable. He shot Pope a meaningful look, silently instructing him to take Kie and leave immediately. Pope understood without words and quickly guided Kie to crawl out of the chicken coop with him.

"JJ?" John B whispered softly, not wanting to startle her. She remained lost in her grief, not looking up.

Carefully, he crawled closer to her. "Hey, JJ," he tried again, gently taking her clenched fists in his larger hands and slowly prying them open. He intertwined their fingers, seeking to offer comfort through touch.

"Look at me, JJ," he murmured, using their intertwined hands to lift her chin gently, coaxing her to meet his gaze.

"It's okay," John B began, but JJ started to look down again at the rooster. "No, don't look down, JJ. Eyes on me," he gently insisted, and she complied, meeting his gaze.

Her bottom lip trembled as she struggled with her emotions. "I-I-I killed him," she managed to say, her voice breaking.

"It's not your fault, okay?" John B reassured her firmly, wanting her to understand. "You didn't have a choice."

"But I-" JJ began to argue, but John B cut her off, determined to help her through this moment of anguish.

"No. I should've done it. I didn't react in time. I'm sorry," John B apologized sincerely. JJ shook her head in denial, but he remained resolute. "You shouldn't have had to do that. It's not your fault, you hear me? They would've killed us."

After a moment of internal struggle, JJ nodded slightly, her eyes still brimming with tears.

"Come here," John B opened his arms, inviting her to crawl into them. She accepted, burying her face against his chest as she released a few sobs. He held her close, rubbing her back gently, wishing that he could have spared her from having to kill the rooster—or anyone else, for that matter. Anyone but her.

"Okay. I'm okay now," JJ sniffled, though it was clear she was far from feeling alright. She just needed to distance herself from the chicken coop and halt her tears. John B squeezed her hand in understanding and nodded.

He allowed her to crawl out first, ensuring she didn't glance back at the rooster, then followed after her. He knew he would have to return later to handle the rooster's remains.

Rejoining his friends, John B felt a heavy weight of guilt for the danger he had inadvertently brought upon them. But for now, he focused on being there for JJ and supporting their group through the aftermath of their harrowing ordeal.