Meanwhile, in the depths of the Undercity, Fredric slipped quietly into the Gun-barrel. The bar, typically alive with noise and chaos, now sat eerily silent. He glanced around, noticing the emptiness—chairs were neatly stacked, and the tables, devoid of patrons, felt like ghosts of the raucous gatherings they once held. The stillness was thick, almost unnerving.

He made his way toward the bar with careful steps, the sound of his boots echoing faintly against the worn floor. The scent of stale liquor hung in the air, blending with the faint traces of smoke that lingered from earlier nights.

As Fredric reached the counter, Calisto emerged from the backroom, her appearance transformed into that of her younger self. She wore a short, crimson dress that clung to her figure, revealing in a way that was undeniably provocative. Her midnight-black hair, tied into a high ponytail, cascaded down her back like a shadowy waterfall. Without a word, she handed Fredric a glass of whiskey, its amber liquid swirling around ice cubes that clinked softly in the silence. She leaned against the bar, her eyes studying him with an almost predatory curiosity.

"Where is everyone?" Fredric asked, removing his mask and placing it gently on the counter beside him. His voice cut through the quiet like a knife.

"I told the bar it was closed for today," Calisto replied, her tone casual but laced with something more. Her gaze remained locked on him as if daring him to notice her.

Fredric took a slow sip of his drink, the whiskey burning warmly as it went down. "Aren't you going to compliment my looks?" she teased, the smirk on her lips playful but with a sharp edge.

"I could," Fredric said, glancing at her briefly before taking another sip, "but you already know you look fantastic. The most beautiful one." His words were smooth, practiced, yet sincere in their ease.

Calisto's smirk deepened, but there was a glint of satisfaction in her eyes. "Anything new regarding that one thing?" she asked, leaning in a little closer, her interest piqued.

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Fredric smiled darkly, a grin that spoke of success in shadowed deeds. "We've successfully usurped Unit 22. Although I hope that clown doesn't get in touch with X, or it'll become obvious what we're really trying to pull off."

"Haze?" Calisto raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Did he escape already?"

Fredric nodded, setting the glass down. "Yeah, he used the distraction when you were busy dealing with the knights. Couldn't repair the forcefield in time, and he slipped out."

"How very tricky of him," Calisto mused, her fingers tracing the rim of a nearby glass. "I could've just let him out if he asked nicely. I wonder if he even recognized me."

Fredric shrugged, the sly grin still lingering. "It doesn't matter. We completed our task. The Undercity is ours now."

There was a pause as Calisto's eyes glittered with something close to satisfaction. "What of Zeke? You got him out?"

Fredric chuckled softly. "Yes, sad to see him go, wasn't it?"

Calisto's expression softened, though not with genuine sorrow. "Sad? Or was it because you sent that little cockroach after him?"

Fredric's smile widened. "Oh, you should've seen it. He was so eager to intercept Zeke. I even promised him I'd make him a guardian if he won." He shook his head at the absurdity.

Calisto laughed, her voice low and melodic. "An impossible task for a fool like him. He most likely died like a dog in those tunnels."

Fredric leaned back, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Better that than having him snooping around the Undercity, causing more trouble. I can't have any unpredictable idiots running loose now that the king is onto us."

Calisto raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And is Zeke not unpredictable himself?"

Fredric's expression grew more thoughtful. "On the contrary, he's a wildcard, but one I need. He's still got room to grow, though. It'll take time before he's strong enough to rival the Contractor King."

Calisto leaned in, her voice soft yet laced with a devilish undertone. "But we both know, when Zeke left the Undercity, it lost its first and only hero."

Fredric paused, staring into the depths of his glass, swirling the whiskey slowly as if contemplating her words. A moment later, he raised his glass to her, his lips curving into a wicked smile.

"A hero? Perhaps," he said, his voice smooth and calm. "But heroes don't last long in places like this."

End of arc 3

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