Within the Wild West district are a host of colorful shops with old Western themes. Outside of the usual hotspots like Colt's Carnival Shooter or Shelly's Gem Shop are knick-knack hotspots like Belle's Bedashery. A little wooden store with an old-timey feel much like the rest. The bad influences of the Goldarm Arm staff sparked a playful rebellion in all that entered. Children would often leave with rubber band guns and rubber caltrops to terrorize their homes on the very same night. Of course, being the businesswoman she is, she had a return policy that placed more in her pockets than the headache of returning was worth.

Resting on the compact dirt floors just behind the shop was a black and blue shadow. His face paint smudged and cracked after the rough two nights he had endured. Exasperated gasps for water could be heard if not for the hustle and bustle of Starr Park.

Chester had been on a mission since that fateful night. When he, Crow, and Bo had been ambushed on a rooftop during their patrol. The sound of a cannon in the distance. The kidnapping of the two older Brawlers. When he finally regained consciousness inside that dumpster he was nearly thrown into a landfill. He spent the entire day getting back into Starr Park without getting caught. When he made it back he had no idea what day it was. There had already been a new poster posted for Crow. He had a secret mission to recover Bull's secret recipe. Chester couldn't find a poster for Bo or Jessie but he knew that he'd see one soon enough. Rather than dwelling on the past, he spent that night trying to reach Pam.

He could only assume that the Leon he saw with Jessie was an imposter just like all the rest. So if Jessie was talking to an imposter it only made sense that she would turn up missing next. He was surprised that Pam hadn't already ripped the town a sunder. Her hyper-alert parenting struck the fear of God into anyone who tried to harm even a hair on Jessie's head. Even Bibi and Crow wouldn't toy with that girl if Pam was in earshot.

However, Pam's Junkyard was locked up tighter than Starr Castle on a holiday. The robots were rushing back and forth through the yard with twice the numbers. Floodlights scanned every inch like sniffer dogs. On the off chance that he managed to land a foot inside the walls, a swarm of bots would rush to his position. Forcing him back into the cold of the night. He swore he once got chased down by Peep and nearly annihilated with extreme prejudice.

He gave up at around three o'clock this morning and still managed to wake up from the developmental area at seven. His lack of sleep almost spurred his paranoia forth. Panicked rushing up and down the streets in broad daylight. Actively interacting with the public. It was like he was trying to get caught. He hoped that if he drew enough attention to himself, another Brawler would arrive to hear him out. Though it was most likely that they would see him as a threat with the narrative Starr Park had been feeding them.

Either way, he had to let them know. He had to tell them the truth. The missing Brawlers, have been replicated. Robotic clones are tainting their good names. Not only did they look nearly identical under the moonlight but they were just as strong. Maybe even stronger. Someone was trying to control them or manufacture their own mechanized Brawlers.

During his panicked contemplation a figure passed by. He knew that color. A red brighter than fire, yet calmer than a babbling brook. It wasn't done up in the pigtails he knew but it had to be her. Chester fastened his hat and rushed after her. His voice couldn't wait to leave his throat as he called, "Jessie!"

The lady turned around quickly. She was much older than the young Brawler. Though she was certainly short enough to pass as her. The lady looked confused for a second before crying, "It's Chester!"

The mention of his name caused an uproar. Bystanders started snapping pictures of his dark new attire. His embarrassment was immeasurable. He had to get away. He leaped back into an alley and used the tricks passed down from Crow to disappear into the shadows.

From a dark corner, he popped out to rest his weary head. His feet were killing him. He hadn't slept in a bed in weeks. He felt like his life was on the line everywhere he went. Day or night he was never safe. Now his friends were getting taken. Why him? Why was this all happening around him?

Was it happening because of him?

He didn't want to believe it but there was this deep creeping doubt. That uncertainty of his part in this story. Who was he? Why was he here? Is there a purpose for his fight? Is he just too scared of what comes next? What the next day will bring him frightens him. It couldn't be good. He would be blamed again. Another one of his friends snatched away and he would be labeled as the fall guy.

"Chester? Chester!" He could hear them, hundreds of voices screaming his name. "Chester, where'd you go?" Not only the crowd searching for him but the missing Brawlers as well. "Chester? Why are you doing this?" Questions he wished he could answer but the truth was starting to leave him. "It's your fault, Chester!"

"Chester. Are you okay?" This voice sounded like it was coming from directly beside him. He slowly cracked open his eyes. A bit of red was first followed by a rosy blush on her cheeks. The supple frame of Jessie was standing before him. Almost brought to tears watching him break down.

Chester smiled, "Wa-ha..." His breath just managed to form a chuckle. "Waa-haha." His nervous snickers would certainly worsen her frown. Not that it mattered. He placed his head in his hands, "I'm going crazy." Hallucinations were a level of insanity Mandy always said he'd reach.

A soft hand rested on his arm, "Chester?"

His body naturally jumped away at the unexpected contact. His eyes were twice as large as he held a hand out to stop her. The other quickly received an exploding bell in retaliation. Jessie recoiled away while screaming, "Aaah! Sorry!"

Hearing her scream caused an involuntary response. Chester threw the ball behind him ignoring the little explosion that followed. He slowly approached the shuddering youth with an outstretched finger. He touched her cheek to feel the warmth of her flesh. "You're real?"

Jessie looked herself over, "I think so?"

Chester's squinting gaze didn't believe it. He'd seen plenty of robots that looked like the real deal from a distance. For all he knows this is an advanced copy. He could have been gone for weeks now. He decided to quiz her, "What's 325 * 169."

"54,925," she responded without batting an eye.

Chester didn't budge. He thought to himself, 'Bad test. Jessie is a walking calculator.' He pointed a finger at her nose, "Who's the 1st president of The United States of America?"

Jessie blew a frustrated raspberry, "I dunno, Benjamin Franklin?"

"Okay, it's you." Chester stood back up with a manner of fact huff. He readjusted his satchel strap before collapsing against the wall once again. He didn't bother with the potential dust forming along his pants legs. He just needed a moment to relax.

Jessie wasn't one to care about dirt either, but there was a nice little crate that she decided to sit on instead. She pulled it to the side and planted her rear down beside him. The elevation kept her at eye level with the Jester.

The two sat in silence for a minute. A situation that left Jessie a little uncomfortable. She just focused on her toes as she kicked her feet back and forth, knocking up a bit of dirt as she went. Chester noticed her antsy nature, "Hey... Sparkplug." The girl locked up at the mention of her nickname. It was something that he used so rarely. Every time she heard it, her lungs clamped shut. Chester was too tired to notice her nervous shutter, "How'd you find me?"

Jessie fumbled a bit to get to her own satchel. She pulled out a strange tool, it looked similar to her shock rifle but this one had a single barrel rather than a magnet on the end. There were canisters of sugar sitting on either side with a wire absorbing the contents. Jessie presented the tool for Chester to admire, "C.A.R.E."

"Care?"

"C.A.R.E. Candy Allocating Rifle Attachment," Jessie explained the intricacies of her new augmentation in all the gory details. She used phrases that Chester had never heard before and wouldn't try to repeat in front of her. The only part he really registered was, "...so if there are sugar levels higher than the standard bell curve this radar will inform me." She flicked on a switch that started filtering the sugar through the tubes and into the spiraling white barrel. If she had glasses she would have been adjusting them while she continued to explain, "I mean. It sometimes misunderstands sweets and sours but-" she pointed the gun in Chester's direction. It lit up like a Christmas Tree, "It gets the job done."

Chester's eyes crossed as he looked at the red ball at the gun's end. He followed her aim to his hat and retrieved a blue candy ball from its hairy compartment. The snack was especially chilling on an extra hot summer day. His ridiculous get-up was baking him from the inside out. Even if he had gotten used to the feeling over the years of working at Starr Park.

He decided to congratulate the girl on another successful experiment. Besides, it was always funny to see how flustered she'd get when he squished her oversized Ben Hogan down over her eyes.

The fun and games had to end though. It was time to get down to business. Chester readjusted his cap and bells. Jessie got the hat off her eyes and noticed the determination in his voice, "What happened last night?"