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Ashton's return to the base was met with a chilling sight. The dimly lit chamber was empty except for one figure seated in the centre, bathed in shadows. 

It was the leader of the Conundrum, the man behind all their schemes. His hands were bound with handcuffs, which Ricochet placed on him before leaving. 

The leader's dishevelled appearance bore witness to the recent battle. However, even in defeat, he wore a twisted grin, his eyes gleaming with madness as he stared at Ashton.

"You may think you've won, Ashton," the Conundrum leader spat out, his voice dripping with deranged amusement. "But there's no victory for you here."

Ashton's gaze narrowed at the leader's taunting words. He had dealt with many foes and had grown accustomed to their threats and boasts, but something about this man's demeanour was different. At that moment, Ashton knew the fucker meant every word that left his mouth.