CHAPTER 9

Unaware of the trouble brewing for him, Watts entered the crowded waiting room, spotting Pistil waving frantically amidst a sea of fans clamoring for his attention.

Navigating through the throng, Watts made his way toward Pistil, reluctantly pausing now and then to sign a dozen autographs. Some fans had the audacity to demand signatures in the weirdest of places, but Watts didn't let it slow him down too much. With Pistil in tow, he finally made it to the changing room.

"Wow, motherfucker, that. Was. Just. Wow!" Pistil exclaimed, his voice animated with excitement.

"Calm down, bro. Pull yourself together. You're an adult now," Watts replied, his tone level.

"It doesn't matter. Not after what you just did! From now on, you're my sensei," Pistil declared, mock admiration dripping from every word.

"Forget it. I can't bear being your teacher, not even for a second. Eww," Watts retorted with a dramatic grimace.

"But seriously, man," Pistil said, his tone sobering. "What's up with you? That stunt you pulled off out there—you're not the same guy I know."

"Relax," Watts replied with a small, enigmatic smile. "I'm still the same old One Punch. Let's just say I've had a recent... transformation."

Pistil frowned. He'd known Watts since they were kids, and something about him felt different—too different. But Watts clearly didn't want to elaborate, so Pistil decided not to push. Instead, he handed over a wad of cash. "Anyway, you made a few bucks. Here's your $4,800 from the bet."

Watts grinned. "Now this is what I'm talking about."

He headed for the shower, leaving Pistil outside to ramble on about the fight. Used to his friend's endless chatter, Watts tuned him out, enjoying the refreshing water. That was, until the rumbling stopped.

Something felt wrong.

Frowning, Watts heightened his awareness, sensing beyond the washroom. He saw three burly men in black at the entrance of the locker room. One of them held Pistil by the neck. Pistil's eyes were wide with terror, but he obediently stayed silent as the men gestured for him to keep quiet.

Watts quickly changed into fresh clothes and stepped out of the washroom. His expression was calm, almost disinterested, as he faced the intruders. "Can we please talk like civil people? How about you let my stupid friend go?"

Surprisingly, the man holding Pistil released him without hesitation. It was clear they weren't here for violence—at least not yet.

One of the men stepped forward. "Our boss would like to meet with you."

Before Watts could respond, another pair entered the room—a man and a woman dressed in casual clothes. The man, tall with spiky brown hair, and the woman, shorter with long black hair, radiated authority.

"Mr. Wattison, I'm Agent Rymond, and this is Agent Deline," the man said, flashing a badge. "It would be in your best interest to come with us. Otherwise, we'll have to use force."

The leader of the men in black sneered. "We're from the Devas family. The government better stay out of our affairs."

Rymond didn't flinch. "This operation is now under government jurisdiction. You're advised to step down."

Tension thickened, but before it could escalate, a new figure entered. She was a girl, no older than her teens, with long white hair and piercing silver eyes. Her presence silenced the room.

Without acknowledging anyone else, she walked straight to Watts, her gaze sweeping over him like he was a prized possession. "What a perfect body," she murmured, running her hand over his chest through his shirt. She leaned closer, inhaling deeply.

Everyone in the room froze, stunned. Watts raised an eyebrow, his face a mix of irritation and disbelief. "What the fuck are you doing?" his expression seemed to say.

Ignoring the tension, the girl smiled. "He's coming with me."

The men in black and the agents stayed silent, though their expressions betrayed their frustration. No one dared argue.

.............................

Later that evening, in a Chinese 5-star hotel, Watts found himself at a luxurious dinner table. The situation was far from what he had anticipated. He had braced himself for a fight or a standoff. Instead, he was seated with the strange white-haired girl, who hadn't stopped staring at him with an unnervingly intense gaze.

The silence was unbearable. She wasn't eating. She wasn't talking. She just watched him, occasionally letting out soft, almost pleased hums. Watts tried to focus on his meal, pretending not to notice her.

She broke the silence with a pout. "You're no fun."

Finally, she leaned back and crossed her legs, her demeanor shifting. "What's your end game, Watts? Flaunting your power like that? What are you trying to achieve?"

Watts put down his fork, his eyes steady. "I want to enter the underworld."

Her eyebrows rose. "And why is that?"

"I need answers. I need the truth."

A slow smile spread across her lips. "If it's revenge you're after, give me a name. I'll have them groveling at your feet by tomorrow."

"Won't do," Watts replied, standing. "Thanks for the meal, but I have to get going. Seems you wont help me."

"What do you want?" she asked, her voice betraying a hint of desperation.

He turned, a sly smile on his lips. "A deal."

Her eyes narrowed, but she couldn't hide her interest. Watts knew he had her. She wanted him on her side, and he intended to use that to his advantage.

..................................

Meanwhile, in a moving taxi, Agent Rymond reported to his superior via video call. "Sir, he's been poached by the Ghosts."

The superior's face darkened. "The Ghosts? That's bad. They're already powerful and uncontrollable. If they gain another God-level ability user... it's over."

He paused, then issued the order. "Negotiation is off the table. Terminate the subject. Permission to contact Shadow is granted. You have three days."

The call ended. Deline, seated beside Rymond, frowned. "Don't you think Shadow is overkill?"

Rymond shook his head. "God-level ability users are unpredictable. It's better this way."

He tapped on the screen of his tablet. "Ava, contact Shadow."

This was about to get very, very interesting.