I, the slave boy, awaken with the most potent seed!!

311  The phantom in the area

The harsh wind whipped against Xylar's face as he and his crew made their way through the undercity's winding streets. Neon signs flickered overhead, casting an eerie glow on the metal walkways below. The air here was thick, almost suffocating, filled with particles that seemed to coat the inside of their throats with each breath.

"Shit," Viper muttered, coughing violently. "The air here's worse than a goddamn chemical plant."

A figure emerged from the shadows of a nearby alley, their face obscured by a sleek mask with glowing green crystals embedded along its sides. The stranger froze mid-step, mask tilting as they studied Xylar more carefully.

"Well, I'll be damned," the stranger's voice came through with a metallic tinge. "The Phantom of Drakoria himself. Didn't expect to see someone of your... reputation down here."

Thunder's hand instinctively moved to his weapon, but Xylar raised a hand, stopping him.

"News travels fast," Xylar remarked dryly.

"The massacre at the Drakorian Gates? The heist at the Astorian Vault? Those aren't the kind of stories people forget." The stranger pulled out three masks from a worn pack, the green crystals pulsing softly. "Consider these a welcome gift. Can't have someone of your caliber choking on wasteland air."

Xylar studied the masks with suspicion. "And what's the catch?"

"No catch. Just good business sense." The stranger's mask gleamed in the neon light. "Though if you're really the Phantom... well, let's just say there might be some interesting opportunities down here for someone with your skills."

After they donned the masks and could breathe easier, the stranger gestured toward the heart of the undercity. "Fighting Pit's two sectors down. Quite the scene lately – been getting some real talent in the ring. Including this one fighter everyone's talking about..."

"The Slime Boy," Viper interjected.

The stranger nodded. "That's the one. Been making quite a name for himself. Disappeared a while back though. Lot of theories floating around about why."

They continued through the undercity, the environment changing as they walked. The streets widened, buildings grew taller, their surfaces covered in a patchwork of metal panels and flickering screens. One particular screen caught Xylar's attention – a replay of a fight, showing a figure moving with impossible fluidity, their body seeming to shift and flow like liquid.

"That's our target," Thunder muttered, watching the display. "No wonder the Council's so interested."

The Fighting Pit loomed before them, a massive structure with towering metal doors and holographic signs advertising upcoming matches. Inside, the air was thick with smoke and synthetic alcohol fumes. The main bar area buzzed with dozens of overlapping conversations.

"Phantom?"

"...heard he killed fifty men in one night..."

"...what's someone like him doing here..."

Xylar moved through the crowd, which parted instinctively before him. The bartender, a burly man with cybernetic arms, looked up as they approached, his mechanical eyes whirring as they focused on Xylar.

"Well," the bartender said, his voice carrying across the suddenly quiet bar. "When they said the Phantom was in Area 52, I thought it was just another rumor."

The bartender's cybernetic fingers clinked against the metal counter. "The Slime Boy. Yeah, word's got around about that bounty. But he's not just some easy mark. Kid's made quite a reputation in the Pit."

"Any idea where he might be?" Thunder asked.

"Disappeared a while ago," the bartender replied. "Nobody knows where he went. Though..." He leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Between you and me? Something changed after his last fight. Like he found something he wasn't supposed to."

At the far end of the bar, Hector sat alone, his robotic eye fixed on his drink but recording every word. His fingers tightened around his glass as he listened.

"The rankings board's over there," the bartender continued, gesturing to a glowing panel. "Though I doubt someone like you needs to start at the bottom. Might be we could arrange something... special."

Xylar's eyes narrowed behind his mask. "Special how?" n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

"There's been talk of setting up some exhibition matches. High stakes, invitation only. The kind of thing that might attract certain... individuals back to the Pit." The bartender's mechanical eyes flickered meaningfully.

"Interesting proposition," Xylar replied smoothly. "We'll consider it."

As they turned to leave, Viper noticed the man with the robotic eye at the end of the bar. "Hey," he started, but Xylar was already moving toward the exit.

"Leave it," Xylar called back. "We've got work to do."

Outside, Thunder grunted in frustration. "So what now? Chase shadows until he shows up?"

Xylar's voice was quiet but confident. "He'll surface. They always do when the stakes are high enough." He glanced back at the Fighting Pit. "And I think we just found the perfect bait."

Hector remained motionless at the bar, watching their reflections in his drink as they left. His robotic eye whirred softly, recording every detail. These weren't ordinary bounty hunters – they were something far more dangerous. And now they were getting too close.

He drained his glass and stood, dropping a few units on the counter. The weight of the crystal in his pocket seemed heavier than ever. Whatever Xylar was planning, it would complicate everything. And time was already running out.

Throughout the bar, whispers continued to spread: The Phantom of Drakoria was in Area 52. The real question was – why would someone of his reputation take a simple bounty hunt?

***

Xylar led his crew through the twisted alleys of Area 52's outer rim, where the neon glow of the Fighting Pit faded into darker territory. The buildings here were older, their metal surfaces corroded by years of exposure to the wasteland's harsh atmosphere.

"You sure about this contact of yours?" Thunder asked, his voice low and gravelly through the mask's filter.

Xylar checked a worn piece of paper in his pocket, coordinates scrawled in hasty handwriting. "Kane's never steered me wrong before. If he says he's here, he's here."

"Kane?" Viper's head snapped up. "The same Kane from the Drakorian job?"

A slight smile played at Xylar's lips beneath his mask. "The very same. Got himself thrown in here three months ago. Said he'd rather take his chances in Area 52 than face Blackthorn's interrogators."

They turned down a narrow passageway, where strips of fluorescent lighting flickered weakly overhead. The sound of their boots on metal grating echoed off the close walls.

"Speaking of Blackthorn," Thunder growled, "How much Thalens is he offering again? Seems low for someone like you. Since when do you take bounty jobs?"

"Since the target's worth more than just money," Xylar replied cryptically. They reached a door marked with a faded red symbol – three parallel lines crossed by a diagonal slash. "This is it."

The door opened before they could knock, revealing a lean man with a heavily scarred face. His right eye had been replaced with a crude cybernetic implant that glowed a dull orange.

"Took your sweet time getting here," Kane said, ushering them inside. The room beyond was cramped but organized, filled with salvaged tech and flickering screens. "Though I guess even the great Phantom needs a minute to adjust to this shithole."

"What've you got for me?" Xylar asked, removing his mask once the door sealed behind them. The air inside was filtered, clean.

Kane moved to one of the screens, tapping it to life. "Your boy's made quite a name for himself in the Pit. Smart move too – best place to hide is right in the spotlight." He pulled up several grainy images of fights. "But here's where it gets interesting."

"Oh?" Xylar leaned forward, studying the footage.

"His last fight," Kane said, zooming in on a particular sequence. "Went up against some newcomer. Real piece of work – arrived just days before the match. Nobody knew him, but the way he fought..." Kane shook his head. "Not your typical wasteland scrapper."

Thunder crossed his arms. "What made him different?"

"Besides the fact he nearly matched the Slime Boy move for move?" Kane pulled up another image, enhanced to show a figure with distinctive green glowing eyes. "Guy fought like he was military trained. Precise. Calculated. Those eyes of his... like fucking emerald lasers cutting through you."

Xylar's jaw tightened imperceptibly. Steele. That self-righteous enforcer bastard. His intel was right – the man had been on Zafron's trail all along.

"After that fight," Kane continued, oblivious to Xylar's tension, "your target vanished. Complete ghost. Some say he's working his way up through the sectors, but..." He snorted. "Good luck with that. Getting past the sector governors? That's a dead end. Each one's got their own little kingdom, and they don't play nice with outsiders."

"This fighter with the green eyes," Xylar asked carefully. "Any idea where he went?"

Kane's cybernetic eye whirred as it focused on Xylar. "Disappeared too. Like they both just..." He waved his hand. "Poof. Though something tells me you know more about that than you're letting on."

"What makes you say that?" Xylar's voice was neutral.

"The Phantom I knew always had his own agenda," Kane replied. "And you're not asking the questions I expected."

The room fell silent. Thunder and Viper exchanged glances, tension thick in the air.

"Just keep your ears open," Xylar said finally. "Anything new comes up—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know the drill." Kane waved a hand dismissively. "Just watch yourself, old friend. Area 52... it's not like other places. And that green-eyed bastard? Something tells me he's not done making trouble."

Outside, walking through the dim corridors, Thunder finally spoke up. "So. Steele's here."

"Complicates things," Viper muttered.

Xylar's voice was cold. "No. It simplifies them." He stopped, turning to face his crew. "We find Steele first. Deal with him. Then we get our bounty." His fists clenched. "That enforcer dog's been a thorn in our side long enough."

***

Back at the bar, Hector finally stood from his spot at the counter. He'd heard enough. The Phantom's arrival complicated things, but not as much as the revelation about Steele. An enforcer in Area 52... and now one of Drakoria's most notorious criminals.

He touched the crystal in his pocket, feeling its cool surface through the fabric. The pieces were moving faster now, the game becoming more dangerous. And somewhere out there, Zafron was walking right into the middle of it all.

Back at the bar, Hector finally stood from his spot at the counter. He'd heard enough. The Phantom's arrival complicated things, but it also presented an opportunity. If Blackthorn was willing to pay that much for a bounty...

He touched the crystal in his pocket, feeling its cool surface through the fabric. Things were moving faster now, pieces falling into place. The question was – who was really moving them?

The hunt for Zafron was about to become much more interesting. And in Area 52, interesting usually meant dangerous.