Rain hammered down relentlessly, the steady drip of water falling into buckets placed in nearly every corner of the room creating a quiet, rhythmic soundtrack. It was the kind of night that forced everyone inside, offering a rare moment of calm for Shock, Lock, and Barrel as they tried to stay dry.

Suddenly, the old, broken doorbell rang, its tinny sound barely cutting through the storm. Almost in unison, they all called out, “Not it—” before the sentence was cut short by a soft, trembling sob.

“Shock!?” The voice was familiar, breaking through the rain and shaking the quiet night.

Without hesitation, Shock was on her feet, moving faster than usual—almost too fast. She pulled open the door to find them standing there, drenched, shoulders shaking as tears mingled seamlessly with the rain, their face a mirror of sorrow.

Without a word, Shock pulled them inside, closing the door against the storm. Wrapping her arms protectively around them, her voice dropped low but fierce. “What happened? Tell me. Nobody’s going to hurt you—not while I’m here.”

Her eyes burned with a fierce determination, ready to tear apart anyone who dared bring pain to someone she cared about.