"What is an Elite doing here? Shouldn't you be in your territory?" Lachlan coldly asked.

They could cut the air with a knife. Their circumstances have never been worse. All of them appeared to be stuck in their existing positions, unable to break free or resolve them. Anger and egos thwarted a nice reunion.

"I'm almost done with my will. And so, I came here to visit you guys," the guy shrugged.

"What for? Didn't you get what you wanted?"

"Oh, don't be like that, Elite 2. You should be thankful to me, all right? While both of you ran away, my men took the trouble to take care regarding all of your butchers."

"What do you---"

Travis abruptly halted Lachlan's speech by bringing his hands to his chest. He looked him in the eyes saying, "I've got this," as if he could manage the current state.

"Don't think about we owe you something, Emil. It's your problem for letting your men take care of Lachlan's butchers, right?" Travis smiled, staying calm.

A cold war seems to have broken out between the two. They were once close friends, but they couldn't handle the thought of seeing each other again. It wasn't that they didn't want it; it was just that they didn't know what to do with it. Travis had known them for years and knew that they each wanted the best for the other, but times had changed and so had their opinions.

"Woah, Headman. That's the first time you've called me by my name in decades, and I'm so moved. But, I guess you're on with a different name this time, right?"

To hate is frequently a failure to perceive alternate views and fathom others' emotional lives. The extreme lives in a bubble, an illusion that takes a frail and weak ego and creates a dream world in which they are significant or powerful.

As a result, their hearts' heel is to dismantle this warped and terrible false world. First, the notion that others desire what they want, or that they are secretly harboring hatred, or that they would follow them if the other alternatives were removed... This has to be debunked.

"I don't care what name you'd use. Either way, I don't prefer you talking to me."

Second, additional choices for developing genuine self-esteem and a robust ego must be implemented, or they will resort to the Bonnie and Clyde escape plan.

They must understand that even though they're the last douchebag remaining, the "sheeple" would still reject them, but if they do this or that, they will achieve actual approval and join the flock of hares instead. Trying to counter fanatics requires chilled water and a warm flannel, not a carrot and a stick.

The same portion of the brain handles love and hatred; it's like a train that can move forward or backward. This is why those who love frequently become haters. If they digested it all well, they might be able to separate on good terms, really wishing each other well.

"Hmm, right. So fierce as before. As expected from the Headman. No wonder why the ex-Headman chose y---"

"For God's sake! Who are you! All of you! Why are you in my house?" yelled an elderly man in a wheelchair, wielding a bolo knife as he went inside the garage storage while he witnessed the current situation.

"Oh, crap," Elite 1, known by his name Emil, cursed as he saw the old man.

All of his subordinates laid their firearms down and hid them before the old man could see them. Meanwhile, as for Lachlan and Travis, they kept their cool since they knew the unconscious guy was the one who welcomed them to the garage.

As of that moment, the old man in his wheelchair lifted his bolo and pointed it to Emil. "If all of you won't get out, I WILL SUE YOU FOR TRESPASSING!" 

"Well, it's nice meeting you two again." Emil turned around and went to the door declaring that he was about to retreat. "My purpose right now is to come and see how you are both doing. I'm relieved to know you're doing well. But, that's unfortunate, I won't be able to chit-chat with you for too long. Let's grab some beer some time, yeah?"

His subordinates left the unconscious guy on the ground while he's still being taped and tied up. It's as if the guards had no choice but to leave him. It didn't take any signal for Emil's men to move, they immediately followed him outside. And just like that, they vanished in the dark as if they're like shadows gone in the woods.

"You two," the old man glared at them. "Why are you still standing there?"

Travis stared for too long at the old man as if he remembered something from him. He felt warm and at the same time--- grief. 

When he and Lachlan's eyes met after a moment, they knew what to do already. Lachlan proceeded to the unconscious guy and removed all of the rope tied to him, the same goes for the tape on his mouth. 

"We sincerely apologize for the inconvenience especially this late. We were in difficulties just recently, and this young man found us and welcomed us here so that we could hide," Travis said, pointing to the insensible man.

After removing the rope and the tape, Lachlan sighed as he singlehandedly carried the guy on his shoulder, "Man, he's working a lot." 

The old man just stared at them as if he's reading their souls. "Where are you bringing my grandson?"

"Rest assured, gramps. We just want to carry him to your main house. You can't carry him looking like that, right?" Lachlan naturally said, walking.

"I don't need your help nor do I need any. Put my grandson down or I will sue you for kidnapping."

Lachlan sighed. He didn't have a choice but to put him down and set him properly on a monoblock chair. As the guy looked so unpleasant in his seat, his grandfather, the old man in a wheelchair, threw daggers on him. But his eyes were full of concern and pity. 

"We're leaving now. Take care of this young man, gramps. For sure, he's trying to do the same to you too. Be well, you two," Lachlan genuinely smiled at the old man.

They waved goodbye to the grandfather who was still peering at them. When they were through with their respective businesses, they exited the storage garage. Before they were totally out from the place, Travis and Lachlan put their right hands on their chests and their left hands on their back and bowed politely at the grandfather as a sign of respect. And just that, none of the three said another word.

As Lachlan and Travis completely vanished, the old man dropped his bolo knife on the ground and placed his hands against the wheelchair hand rims, pushing it forward on and on --- he hastily went after his grandson. 

Even if his wheelchair's wheel breaks, he won't care, nor will he care if he falls to the ground. All he wanted was to be able to touch his beloved unconscious child. He was too concerned. He was so worried.

When the grandfather reached his young child at the spot, he pulled and squeezed him tightly in his arms --- tightly that his embrace was overwhelmed with love. "Oh, boy. My Greg, you're the only one left in me yet you're not taking care of yourself. Be well for me, my child," Tears almost ran down his cheeks.

The trees are smiling again, adorned in their carnival garb of gold and crimson from the fall days. They dance around the earthy tones of the branch and trunk, like proud flags in any sky. As they do so, Lachlan and Travis inhaled the fresh, quiet air with a whiff of earthy perfume, the smell of homeliness.

A few moments later...

"Well, what a drama," Elite 2 known to be Lachlan, almost laughed while teasing Travis. 

Both walked down to the street, finding another place to hang out. The street was now quiet and calm. There were no people strolling down the streets. It's just the two of them in broad moonlight.

"Prepare for another battle, Lach. Don't make me do all the work again or else---"

"Yeah, yeah. Chill, man. I knew Emil's drama would happen someday like today, duh. Of course, I've got a wildcard up my sleeve."

"You better use it properly," he coldly said. 

After seconds, Travis smiled when he remembered the silent cry of the grandfather while embracing his grandchild. It was so pure and sweet.

"Well, man. Those two remind me of you and your old man."

One has an experience when they sense an emotion or a bodily feeling... it's called being well.

Departing the sentimental turmoil, being free to invade it when they need to demonstrate compassion and empathy for others, but otherwise having their own personal sense of peace, enabling their internal thoughts to become a sanctuary of tranquillity, is part of feeling well.

"Yeah, it kind of reminded me too. I hope majordomo is doing well."

Emotional apathy has a role in well-being. It is the capacity to cut off those who are never-ending hurricanes and devote ones' complete energy and concentration to those and things they care about the most.

Memories of brilliant color flood in, like if the breeze was their favorite song as if they were always ready to samba.

"Bro, he's a wise man. There's no need to worry about him. He even once told me not to overthink things otherwise---"

"---otherwise you will be unable to get enough sleep," continued Travis, a sad yet optimistic response.

"Wow, as expected from my sugarpie." Lachlan knew what his friend went through before. He had to respect the happenings and such just for his friend.

Because the brain has a limited sense of time, the unpleasant memory is perceived as a current occurrence. Negative memories have a cost; as seductive as they are, once lessons are learned, there is nothing of value in them.

There was a few seconds of silence between the two, as if for prayer. Earlier was once a good and well atmosphere, yet now both seemed to be in an intense and cold mood.

"I know you're being understandable but you've got problems to worry about too. Don't forget about that," Travis elbowed his friend in his stomach.

Emotional scars are harsh at first, just like any other type of burn, but they fade to a gentle pink, the color of skin, a hardly detectable and long-forgotten track. People can become strong enough to talk at the iron bars that confine them and watch them bend out of the way, as if by some strange sorcery. That is what love is capable of: repairing souls, repairing minds, and curing people.

Lachlan sighed. "Well, certainly, after all, we're the only ones who understand our anguish."

Feeling well isn't a high or a low experience; rather, it's a somewhat warm flat feeling, as if people strolling along a road, they could travel forever or select a new way for the purpose of adventure and enjoyment.