Chapter 3: "Whispers in the Underblack"
Lucas Cain's confident stride carried him away from the hidden stairwell, though in his mind he was simply exiting an immersive set. Above ground, dawn's pale light bathed the city in bland normalcy. Below, the Underblack Circle's sanctum trembled with hushed excitement.
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The Hand, the scar-faced director, perched behind the oak table. Around him, the council of lieutenants spoke in low voices.
"You saw how he moved," said Vance, the tall enforcer with a metallic prosthetic hand. His gaze tracked Lucas's silhouette slipping into morning traffic.
"His words…" murmured Leora, the strategist, "cut deeper than any blade. This 'Ruler' commands us."
Rikard, the veteran scout, tapped the table. "His aura flickered—like he believed every line."
The Hand steepled his fingers. "But why did he return? And why under the guise of a student?"
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He rose, stepping into the pale circle of candlelight. Drawing upon his trait, Memory Recall, he touched the edge of the oak table. A pulse of inherited magic rippled through his fingertips, conjuring flickering echoes of last night's scene.
Visions shimmered: Lucas bowing politely, greeting them as fellow performers, a family dynamic with another young man giving direction—a brother's practice. Only fragmented truth emerged: Lucas truly believed he was an acting student, supported by a close sibling and a devoted manager.
He withdrew his hand, narrowing his eyes. "He's drafted a cover: a new origin story—a Cain family dynasty of actors."
Rikard laughed softly. "If it's a cover, it's brilliant. No one suspects the prey that smiles."
Leora nodded. "We'll cultivate the myth: 'The Kingpin in Disguise.' Spread whispers that he walks the halls of academia by day, strikes terror by night."
Vance slammed a fist on the table. "Then let the rumor mill churn. Drop coded messages in the docks. Tag the back alleys. Let every informant repeat: Mr. Nobody studies among them."
The Hand inclined his head. "Begin immediately. We awake the underworld with half-truths and unanswered questions."
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Later that dawn, the Council dispersed like phantoms into the city's underbelly. Messages scrawled in cryptic ink appeared on brick, intercom static buzzed with fabricated dispatches, and whispered legends crept into taverns of thieves.
"He researches at dawn, strikes at dusk."
"A scholar's mask hides the void within."
"Beware the student with no name."
And so, the name Mr. Nobody surged like wildfire through secret networks.
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The Summons
By midday, a sleek black sedan rolled into a deserted alley of neon signs. The Hand awaited inside, flanked by two silent guards.
The sedan's door opened. Sebastian Mohram stepped out, impeccably dressed, portfolio in hand, eyes alight with fervor.
"He finds me?" Sebastian whispered, glancing at a dossier labeled 'Lucas Cain—Rising Star.'
The Hand rose, extending a gloved hand. "Manager Mohram. Your client's legend demands guidance. We require coordination."
Sebastian bowed deeply. "You have only to ask. I exist to serve Alexander's vision."
A thin smile crossed the director's scar. "Then you shall be the conduit between our worlds—the stage and the shadows."
Sebastian's heart thundered. To him, Lucas was the greatest talent alive. Now, he'd broker deals with the city's most dangerous. He saluted, portfolio clutched like sacred script.
"Consider it done."
The Hand nodded. "Very well. Let the world see only the half-glimpses of greatness they are meant to see."
As Sebastian departed, the director watched the manager's fervent silhouette vanish. In his mind, the performance had only just begun—and the true curtain call was still to come.
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NOTE: Alexander is the real Mr. Nobody. He dissappear many years ago and Sebastian is a fanatic of his.
Just an info dump from the author. Tehe