ᴍʏ ᴘᴀʀᴀᴍᴏᴜʀ | ꜱ.ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ

eight.

Kiara glanced at Marley, silently asking if JJ was serious, to which Marley nodded. She longed to erase the entire ordeal from her memory; it was an experience no one should have to endure. Marley was aware that Pope and Kiara wouldn't fully grasp the concept until they faced a similar situation. Given the trajectory of the 'operation', that moment seemed soon.

"It's a heavy vibe right now, okay?" JJ offered, glancing toward the Pogues, "I am not liking this very much."

"Okay, why would they want the compass?" Kiara theorised.

"The things a piece of shit," Pope added, "You could pawn it off for five bucks if you wanted to. No offence, John B. I know it's in your family-"

"The office." John B abruptly interrupted the boy, eliciting questioning glances from the rest of his friends due to the suddenness of his statement.

"What?" Marley asked.

"My dad. My dad's office." John B confirmed as if finalising a theory that he had been thinking of this entire time, leading his friends into the house, "He always kept the office locked because he was worried about his competitors stealing his Royal Merchant research. We used to laugh at him like he was gonna find it. But now that he's gone, I've just kinda...I just left it as he kept it."

"Yeah, for when he gets back." Kiara chimed in to lift the boy's spirits a bit, recognising the significance of this for him as he looked a key to unlock his father's office. Kiara exchanged glances with the other three, silently urging them to say something, but they just shrugged. John B proceeded to open the door.

"I've slept over here like 600 times, and i've never seen this door opened." Pope mentioned as he looked around the room.

"You're so right." Marley gaped as she watched John B walk over to the cluttered desk.

"Here, look. This is the original owner, right here." John B elaborated as he brought over a board covered in sticky notes.

"Okay. Robert Q. Routledge, 1880 to 1920. There's the lucky compass, right there." Kiara observed as they all looked at the photo of a man in an army suit with the compass attached to his hip.

"Actually, um...he was shot to death after he bought it." John B corrected, the distant sound of roosters making Marley smile, "Then the compass was shipped back to Henry. He was killed in a crop-dusting accident when he had the compass. After he died, the compass was given to Stephen. Stephen had the compass with him when he died in Vietnam."

"Let me guess, he died in action, right?" JJ wondered.

"Sort of." John B shrugged, "Uh, a-actually, he was killed by a banana truck. In-In country."

Marley chuckled, shaking her head. "A banana truck? Seriously?" she exclaimed, unable to contain her amusement.

"Anyways," The boy shot her a glare, causing her laughter to subside, "After that, Stephen passed the compass down to him, my dad."

"Hm, Sounds like there's a reoccurring theme here." JJ sarcastically spoke.

"Yeah, you have a death compass." Pope declared.

"I do not." John B grumbled.

"You kinda do." Marley nodded.

"Seriously, dude. Get rid of it." JJ enlightened his friend, and for once, Marley noted JJ saying something clever, "It's cursed and it's made its way back to you."

"Look, my dad used to talk about this compartment in here," John B informed them as he started to open the compass by unscrewing a specific part of it, "Soldiers used to hide secret notes."