Jett sat on Ava’s couch, his mind buzzing with several thoughts. Eric’s constant warnings irritated him to no limit. Still, Jett was grateful that Eric had at least informed them about the danger they were in. Eric must have connections for him to get his hands on information like that.

‘What did I do to attract the attention of someone like Ezekiel Monroe?’ Jett thought.

The gas leak incident suddenly popped into his mind. Could Ezekiel have been watching them then? The idea sent a chill down Jett's spine. That would mean that Ezekiel saw him use his powers.

Before he could dwell further on his thoughts, Ava's voice snapped him back to reality. "I've called an Uber. It should be here soon to take us out of the city."

Jett nodded.

"Where will we stay?" Jett asked.

Ava explained. "Don't worry, I've got it covered. We'll stay with a friend of mine in a nearby town. It's a safe place where we can lay low for a while."

Jett nodded again. "Okay, sounds good."

As Ava went to her room to gather some belongings, Jett remained in the living room, fiddling nervously with the ring on his finger. He was starting to feel uneasy again and he hated it. He felt like a prey being hunted by a predator. He had always felt that way, all his life and he was sick of it.

‘I thought the ring would change all of that. Was I wrong?’ Jett wondered.

Suddenly, a knock at the door jerked Jett out of his thoughts. He approached the door carefully, checking the peephole for any sign of who might be outside. Seeing nothing, he hesitated for a moment before cautiously opening the door.

Before he could react, a swift blow struck him on the temple. Jett felt waves of pain in his skull. He staggered backwards as his vision slowly blurred. With a muffled grunt, he collapsed to the floor, and immediately lost consciousness.

***

Jett blinked, his eyes adjusting to the darkness surrounding him. His head ached, a reminder of the ordeal he'd endured. He'd been knocked out, but by whom or what, he couldn't recall. He tried to stand up but he could not. Chains bound his wrists and ankles.

"Hello?" he called out in the silence, broken only by the occasional drip of water.

No response.

Soon, Jett heard footsteps approach. After that, he heard the creak of a door swinging open. A sliver of light pierced the darkness, A sliver of light pierced the darkness, revealing a figure standing before him. It was dark but Jett could still distinguish some details—the person was tall and muscular.

"Who are you?" Jett demanded.

"You're awake," came the gravelly voice.

Despite his fear, Jett managed to muster a question. "Where am I?"

"In my basement," the figure replied bluntly, their tone betraying little emotion. "And before you ask, no, I'm not here to harm you. At least, not yet."

Jett had many questions but one burned brighter than the rest. "Why am I here?"

As the figure drew closer, Jett could make out more details: dark brown eyes, olive-golden skin covered with countless scars, and a rough stubble on his face. The man was definitely intimidating.

"You caught the attention of the wrong person," the man explained. "Ezekiel doesn't take kindly to those who meddle in his affairs."

Ezekiel Monroe, the notorious criminal, was the only problem he thought he was dealing with. However, now someone who also seemed to have interest in him was holding him captive. And this person seemed to be connected to Ezekiel in some way. Just how many people were after him?

"Just get to the point of what you want," Jett demanded.

The man's lips curved into a humorless smile. "Information," he replied simply. "And perhaps, if you prove useful, a chance to survive this mess you've found yourselves in."

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Jett struggled against his restraints but they wouldn’t budge. The man observed him closely, "You see, I have questions, and I expect answers," he declared.

"What exactly do you want to know?" Jett asked.

"I'll start with Ezekiel. What’s your connection to him?" the man demanded.

Jett did not want to reveal too much about the rings and how Ezekiel is after him but he also did not want to be completely deceitful. If his captor didn’t know anything about the rings, he was going to leave it that way.

Jett thought of his words carefully. "I... I don't have any connection to him," he replied cautiously. "I just... I got mixed up in something I shouldn't have."

The man's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "And yet, Ezekiel seems to think otherwise," he mused, more to himself than to Jett. "He sent his men after you, and that's not something he does lightly."

Jett maintained his façade. "What do you think Ezekiel wants with me?" he pressed.

"That's what I’d also like to know." the man said.

Jett considered his options. He could attempt to escape using his teleportation abilities, but he couldn't leave without knowing Ava's fate. Besides, staying might provide him with valuable information about his captor's motives.

"Could I at least get the name of my captor?"

"Purge."

Jett then began, "Purge, huh? Well, could you at least..."

"Oh, I see..." Purge interrupted Jett, his gaze fixed on the ring on Jett's finger. "So you're one of them, huh? You're a wielder. That explains why Ezekiel is after you then."

Jett cursed his luck. His cover was blown rather quickly. Purge already knew about the rings.

"That doesn't mean I know what Ezekiel plans to do with me," Jett said defensively.

"Well, we can't have Ezekiel get his hands on you, can we? So you will be staying here in my basement for a while," Purge, replied coldly before departing, leaving Jett alone in the darkness.

As Purge made his way up the stairs, he remembered the violence and betrayals. He recalled the bloodshed, the faces of those he had killed, and the burning desire for revenge that he felt every day.

Purge paused for a moment then glanced over his shoulder to look at the basement where Jett was bound. Purge then said, “"You'll remain here for now. Ezekiel must fall.” Purge turned away and continued.

Purge reflected on the events that led him to this moment. He remembered the betrayal and torture he faced at the hands of Ezekiel and Liam. He didn’t see himself as a killer or a mercenary. Rather, he saw himself as a force of justice, no matter how twisted it was.

Lost in thought, Purge recalled his days with The Brotherhood of Demons, a group of mercenaries trained to kill anything and anybody without mercy. He remembered the thrill of the hunt as he rose to become the youngest and most feared member of the Brotherhood.

But everything changed the night he refused to kill an innocent girl for Ezekiel. Ezekiel had Purge tortured and seemingly killed by Liam. However, Purge survived and he now lived with a singular purpose: to watch Ezekiel's empire crumble.

To achieve that, Purge vowed to capture as many ring wielders as possible, ensuring they remained out of Ezekiel's grasp. He cared little for their fate, so long as they served his greater purpose.

Purge then thought, ‘I better go check on the other one.’

Purge went towards his staircase and ascended it. Reaching the top, he found a small landing and pushed open a concealed trapdoor, revealing a ladder leading into the darkness of the attic. Purge climbed upward until he entered the dark attic.

Drawing a flashlight from his belt, Purge cast its beam around the attic. The beam finally settled on a figure bound in the corner. It was Whimsy, another ring wielder he had captured months ago.

"Ah, Purge! So nice of you to drop by!" Whimsy exclaimed with a grin. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company today? Catch any bad guys lately? Oh, wait, that's my job, isn't it?”

Purge found Whimsy repugnant in every way. Everything about Whimsy rubbed him the wrong way—from the flippant attitude to the eccentric appearance. Whimsy’s hair looked like a wild tangle of cotton candy. Whimsy’s hair fell in waves around their face and cascaded down their back. Whimsy’s eyes were also large and doe-like. Whimsy also had segmental heterochromia, consisting of purple on the top half of the iris and green along the bottom curve of the pupil.

Hell, Purge didn’t even know if Whimsy was a male or a female.

"I’m tired of your games, Whimsy. Tell me everything you know about Ezekiel now,” Purge demanded, clearly frustrated.

He had captured Whimsy months ago hoping to learn something – anything about Ezekiel. After all, there were rumors that Whimsy had once worked with Ezekiel. However, Whimsy just proved to be useless and utterly deranged.

"Ezekiel? Oh, you mean the person with the mustache and world domination fantasies? Yeah, I know him. He's like Voldemort of crime, only with better hair and less nose," Whimsy replied with a grin.

Whimsy was clearly enjoying getting under Purge's skin.

Purge's temper flared. "Damn it, Whimsy! Stop playing games with me!” he snapped angrily.

"Games? What games? Being chained up doesn’t seem like my idea of gaming." Whimsy retorted with a manic grin.

Unable to contain his fury any longer, Purge delivered a swift punch to Whimsy's face. Whimsy spat out blood. But it didn’t matter – Whimsy was still grinning. "Ouch! That smarts!" Whimsy quipped.

Purge's fists clenched with rage as he glared down at Whimsy. "You're an annoying chatterbox, Whimsy," he growled. "You never talk about anything useful."

Whimsy laughed. “Yeah, mum tells me that too. I’m just filled with useless trivia! Did you know that the average person eats eight spiders in their sleep every year? Or maybe it's nine."

With a deep breath, Purge forced himself to calm down, knowing that harming Whimsy wouldn’t help him in any way.

"A few more days in solitude, and you'll be begging to spill your secrets."

Purge warned then turned to leave the attic.

Alone once more, Whimsy chuckled softly to theirself. Whimsy looked at something cradled in the palm of their hand. "Solitude? Sounds boring," Whimsy remarked with a deranged smile, their fingers tracing the colorful ring they had swiped. "Besides, I've got company," they added.