John B woke up the next morning and quickly got ready for work. He hadn't been by since the storm, other than to borrow the scuba gear, and he didn't want to risk losing his job by missing another day.

He didn't have time for a shower, so he quickly hosed off once he got to work, lost in thought. He was disappointed to realize that JJ still hadn't come home. It bothered him that she hadn't returned, especially since the chateau was also her home. Was she still upset about being lookout during their recent escapade? The uncertainty weighed on him as he tried to focus on his tasks for the day.

"Hey! Employee of the month! Where the hell you been?" one of the other workers yelled at John B, snapping him out of his thoughts. "You taking some 'me time'? Ward C's been looking all over for you. You know he don't like to wait."

John B quickly dried his face with a towel and made his way towards his boss's boat, wondering what Ward C wanted with him. The urgency in the message made him nervous as he approached.

"Have a seat," Ward Cameron instructed as John B walked onto the deck of his boat.

"Yes, sir," John B complied, taking a seat.

"Who dotted your eye?" Ward asked casually, focused on his task.

"Surfing accident," John B replied quickly, keeping his guard up. He's no rat.

His boss stopped what he was doing and turned around to grab his toolbox. "You've had a hard year, John. A very hard year. I feel like I've done what I could to help you. Would you agree with that?"

John B didn't like where this conversation was heading. "Yeah. Yeah, yes sir," he replied cautiously.

Ward set his toolbox onto the counter he was working on. "I told you you could always come to me if you ever need anything. Is that true?"

John B hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal. "Yes, sir, you have."

Ward Cameron nodded, looking at him intently.

"Yeah. I mean, you said you'd help me with my DCS case," John replied, trying to hide his nerves.

Ward sighed heavily and sat in a seat across from John B. "I need you to answer a question and I need you to be straight with me." John B squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. "Did you take gear off the Druthers?"

John B's heart sank as he realized he was caught. Sarah must've ratted him out. "Yes, sir, I did," he admitted, not bothering to lie. He braced himself, hoping he wouldn't get fired.

"Look, Mr. C, I'm not a thief, okay?" John B tried to explain, feeling desperate. "It was just two dollars worth of air. Stale. You wouldn't want your daughters to breathe that air-"

"John," Ward interrupted him, and for a moment, John thought he detected a hint of regret in Ward's expression. "It's the principle of the thing. I can't have employees that I can't trust. I don't want to do this, John, but you've left me no choice."

John B stared blankly, feeling the weight of the situation sink in.

"I have to let you go," Ward finished solemnly.

John B nodded in acknowledgment and quietly made his exit. He stormed down the dock, cursing himself for ever trusting someone like Sarah. A kook princess, no less. What was he going to do now?

As he brooded over his predicament, he noticed Sarah approaching him, casually eating chips as if nothing had happened. His frustration boiled over at seeing her.

"Hey, John B," she called out as he stormed past her. He tried to ignore her, but she persisted. "I'm sorry, that's it?"

He turned around to face her, his anger evident. She continued, nonchalantly crunching on chips. "Not a 'hey, how you doin?' or 'kiss my ass'?" She rolled her eyes.

"You're secret's safe with me?" John B repeated her earlier words, walking up to her angrily.

"What secret are- Oh. That secret," she said humorously.

"I just got fired because of you. And I know you can't imagine that, but some people need jobs so they can eat," John B seethed, his frustration palpable.

Sarah's smile faded, replaced by confusion. "What are you talking about? I didn't say anything to my father," she protested, taken aback.

John B, not believing her, slapped the chips out of her hand and stormed away, leaving Sarah standing there, stunned and speechless.

"What the fuck?!" Sarah yelled after him, her voice full of indignation and disbelief. John B stopped in his tracks, turning back to face her.

"You're exactly who I thought you were, Sarah Cameron," John B stated firmly, his disappointment and anger evident in his voice. Without waiting for a response, he turned around once again and stormed off, determined not to look back.

Sarah stood there, staring at John B's retreating figure, feeling a mix of frustration and regret. She knew her father must have found out about the scuba gear, but it wasn't her who had told him. John B would never believe her side of the story.

She envied the Pogues—not necessarily their living conditions, but their freedom and loyalty to each other. It was something she had never quite found in her own circles of friends, and she acknowledged her own shortcomings in that regard. Witnessing John B and JJ defend each other at the beach had ignited something within her—a desire to belong, to be part of a group that shared such camaraderie. Even the banter she had with their crew thrilled her, and she longed to be more than just an outsider looking in.

Sarah sighed sadly to herself as she turned around and resumed walking towards her original destination before she had been distracted. Kooks and Pogues were destined to always be enemies it would seem.

"Asshole," she muttered grumpily under her breath, the frustration of the moment still lingering.

John B was consumed by anger. His brisk walk turned into a run, driven by the need to burn off some of the intense energy coursing through him. He didn't have a destination in mind; all he knew was that he had to keep moving. The burning sensation in his lungs from exertion distracted him momentarily from the seething rage swirling in his mind.

He was furious at everything—the unresolved mystery of his father's disappearance, the complications with DCS, Sheriff Peterkin's interrogation, JJ's absence, and now Sarah Cameron and her father, Ward. The frustration and resentment toward the Camerons simmered under his skin, fueling his pace as he urged himself to go faster, trying to outrun his thoughts and emotions.

Certainly! Here's a rewritten version:

John B pushed himself to keep running until his lungs burned with exhaustion. As he slowed to a walk, he found himself in a neglected part of town. Looking around, he noticed a black truck pulling up beside him. His curiosity turned to dread as the window rolled down, revealing the same two men who had shot at them and vandalized his home.

John B couldn't catch a break, his heart sinking as Ratter, the passenger, cocked his pistol and placed it within John B's sight.

"Time's up, boy," Ratter's voice carried a menacing tone.

John B wasted no time. "Damnit!" he cursed under his breath as he sprinted away, adrenaline pumping through his veins. Behind him, Ratter jumped out of the vehicle and gave chase, his shouts echoing in the night.

"Don't run, boy!" Ratter's command rang out, punctuated by the roar of the truck's engine as the other man revved it up to pursue John B.

John B darted into a backyard, hoping to shake off Ratter, but his pursuer was hot on his heels. With a desperate leap, John B attempted to vault over a wall, only to have it collapse beneath him, sending him crashing to the ground.

Quickly recovering, John B dashed into a thicket of foliage, narrowly evading Ratter's grasp. As Ratter closed in, John B used his momentum to knock him off balance before sprinting out into another yard. He dashed across the road, but the other man maneuvered his truck to block his path.

John B dodged around the truck and tore down the road, the truck roaring as it spun around to pursue him.

"Stop!" Ratter's voice echoed behind him once more. John B pushed himself harder, reaching a chain-link fence in desperation. As he gripped the metal, a surge of electricity jolted through his body, paralyzing him with searing pain. He writhed helplessly on the ground, unable to move.

"You gotta watch those live wires after a storm," Ratter taunted, looming over him menacingly. "Now you're gonna give me what I want."

John B resigned himself to his fate when a sudden siren blared nearby. Unable to turn his head, he could only hope for a rescue as Ratter straightened up and retreated.

"Thank god," John B sighed with relief. Moments later, Sheriff Peterkin's face appeared above him.

After the convulsions ceased and the pain subsided, John B gingerly pulled himself up, feeling as though he'd been run over by a truck.

Sheriff Peterkin motioned for John B to get into her police vehicle, and he complied gratefully. After all, she had just saved his life. They sat in silence for a moment once inside.

Finally, Sheriff Peterkin broke the quiet. "So, how's it working out, kid?" When John B remained silent, she added, "It's a whole lot safer if you give it to me rather than anyone else."

John B glanced at Sheriff Peterkin, feeling grateful for her timely intervention and overwhelmed by everything that had transpired. He reluctantly retrieved the compass, his fingers tracing its familiar contours with a mixture of attachment and apprehension. With a sigh, he handed it to her before he could second-guess himself.

"This thing probably saved your life," Sheriff Peterkin remarked, examining the compass closely. "Concentrated the shock. Lucky."

John B couldn't help but think ironically that just yesterday Pope and JJ had been calling it a death compass and cursing its existence. Climbing out of the car sullenly, he watched as Sheriff Peterkin's vehicle drove away with his compass.

Feeling lost, he made his way back to the chateau. It was only now that he noticed how trashed it looked. Exhausted from the night before and rushed that morning, he hadn't taken it in until now. The two men had really done a number on it. It seemed to mirror the turmoil he felt inside.

And JJ still wasn't home.

Feeling hollow and defeated, John B made a final decision. Kie had been right all along; this was all a futile pursuit. His father was gone. With a determined yet empty resolve, he gathered everything left in his father's office aboard the Royal Merchant and piled it in the front yard.

He struck a match and watched as the flames engulfed the pile, pouring gasoline to hasten the burn.

As John B watched the flames consume everything, his eyes darted to the bulletin board amidst the blaze. Suddenly, something caught his eye. Acting quickly, he grabbed the fire poker and pulled the bulletin board from the fire before it could be completely destroyed.

Among the charred remains of it, he spotted a tarnished note in the upper right corner: "Olivia R. Routledge."

In that moment, a renewed determination surged through him. He was going to uncover the truth, no matter the obstacles.

He climbed into the Twinkie and started the engine. He would need his friends for this. With that, the Twinkie headed off.