Chapter 4 | Jason Allen

  It’s eating me up inside.

  As I walk home tonight, my thoughts are consumed by that ring. What is it? Why did he give it to me? It feels heavier than it should, like it's carrying some kind of weight beyond its physical form. I keep turning it over between my fingers, searching for any clue, any hidden mechanism. I’ve worked up the courage to put it on, but nothing has happened. No spark, no shift, no change. Just cold metal against my skin.

  I keep staring at the middle section, running my thumb over it. Holden said to slide it down, but a knot of uncertainty tightens in my chest. What if it broadcasts my location? What if it records my every move, my every word? What if it’s some kind of trick, something I won’t be able to undo? But despite my fears, something stronger drives me forward—curiosity. The need to know. The feeling that my life is static, stuck, and that this might be my only way out of the cycle I’ve been trapped in.

  I’m going to use the ring. I have to.

  My sister and the rest of the band are out partying tonight after their show, but I couldn’t bring myself to join them. Not with this clawing at the back of my mind. Every step I take down these dimly lit streets feels urgent, my heartbeat rising to match my pace. The streetlights flicker above me, casting long shadows. Every so often, I catch a faint blue glimmer from the ring out of the corner of my eye, like a pulse of light trying to escape from within. But every time I raise my hand to look, it vanishes, retreating into the depths of the metal like it’s waiting for me to decide.

  By the time I reach my house, my nerves are buzzing. I open the door as quietly as I can, careful not to wake my parents, and slip upstairs. My hands are shaking as I reach my room. I shut the door behind me and lean against it for a moment, inhaling deeply. This is it.

  I hold my hand up, examining the ring one last time. The middle section is subtly darker, etched with a pattern that doesn’t match the rest. My thumb hovers over it. Just one movement, and I’ll have my answer.

  But I hesitate.

  My breathing is uneven. This is what I wanted, isn’t it? I’ve been waiting for this moment, but suddenly, I feel like I’m standing at the edge of a cliff, unsure if there’s solid ground on the other side. But I can’t stay here forever. I have to see it through. My life isn’t what I want it to be, right? So, why not take the risk?

  Slowly, I press my thumb against the middle section and slide it down.

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  Click.

  Nothing happens.

  I frown, my pulse still racing. Did I do it wrong? I hold it down, waiting for something, anything. But the room remains the same. My breath leaves me in a shaky sigh. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe it’s just a normal ring, some elaborate joke Holden played on me.

  Disappointment washes over me. I release my thumb, and the middle section snaps back into place.

  Click.

  A blinding white light engulfs everything.

  I stumble back, arms raised, but there’s nothing to shield myself from. My room is gone. The walls, the furniture, the floor—all of it swallowed by an endless expanse of pure white. My breath catches. The air feels weightless, unreal. The only thing that remains is me—and the ring, still wrapped around my finger. Where am I? What just happened?

  A sudden grip on my arm jolts me. I whip my head around, heart hammering, and see Holden standing beside me. His face splits into a grin as the white void around us shatters like glass, revealing something far more impossible.

  A massive building materializes in an instant, like it was always there, just waiting for me to see it. People move all around us, climbing grand staircases, stepping into sleek elevators, and talking in hushed yet urgent voices. Some are dressed in suits, others in variations with bowties or vests. I quickly notice a pattern: most suits are plain, some have white pocket squares, but Holden’s stands out with a striking blue one tucked neatly in his breast pocket.

  And then I notice the weapons.

  Guns, swords, enormous hammers strapped across backs. Spears, bows, axes, rifles. Every deadly instrument I can think of is carried openly, as if they belong here. As if this place was built for them.

  “That was fast!” Holden exclaims with his grip still firm on my arm. “Didn’t expect you until at least Tuesday!”

  Laughter ripples through the group around him. I barely process it, my mind still scrambling to catch up. My mouth is dry as I force out the only question that matters.

  “Where am I?”

  The laughter dies. Holden clears his throat and straightens up, his smirk lingering. “Jason, welcome to the Agency.”

  I blink. “The Agency?”

  “That’s right.”

  “What is this place?”

  “I told you, didn’t I?” He gestures broadly, motioning to the bustling scene before me. “I’m a bounty hunter. And this,” his smile grows, “is my bounty hunting agency.”

  I take a step back. “Where are we?”

  Holden folds his arms, his expression turning more serious. “The Agency exists outside of space and time. So, technically, we are just... in the Agency.”

  I stare at him, my thoughts running in circles. “So, this place... doesn’t exist?”

  He shakes his head. “Quite the opposite, Jason. It exists everywhere, every-when, and it holds everything you will need as a bounty hunter.”

  The words make my skin crawl. I shake my head. “Hold on. Bounty hunter? When did I agree to be a bounty hunter?”

  Holden smirks, turning to walk. “You agree later. You aren’t there yet, Jason.”

  My stomach twists. “This place, if it even exists, is made to hunt who exactly?”

  Holden keeps walking, motioning for me to follow. “Come with me, and I’ll answer your questions.”

  I don’t move at first. My mind is screaming at me to turn back, to find a way out of this madness. But then I look at the people around me, at the sheer impossibility of this place.

  And despite everything, I find my feet moving forward. Answers are what I came for, and answers are what I’m going to get.