The damp air of the sewer tunnels clung to Callisto's skin as she stared at the immaculately dressed butler standing before her. The flickering torchlight cast long shadows across his sharp features, highlighting the golden monocle perched over his left eye. Behind him, four teenagers—clean, well-dressed, and painfully out of place in the grime—stood with an eerie calm.
"So, you want us… all of us, to come under this Prince of yours?" Callisto's voice was rough, skeptical. Her black hair, streaked with silver, framed a face marked by scars and hardship. Around her, the Morlocks shifted uneasily, their mutated forms half-hidden in the darkness.
Sebastian Wilfred didn't so much as blink. "That is correct, Ms. Callisto. On behalf of my master, Prince Sai Von Morvayne, I extend an invitation for you and your people to join our cause. Serve under his banner, and he will lead the Meta-Human kind to a better tomorrow."
"Huh?!" Callisto's single eye narrowed. She had expected many things—another raid by the Marauders, maybe, or another hollow promise from Mutants lot. But this? A butler offering them salvation?
Just minutes ago, her scouts had reported intruders in the tunnels. She had prepared for a fight, rallying her people to defend their last refuge. Instead, they were met with this—a man who looked like he'd stepped out of a royal portrait, flanked by kids who looks like the had never known hunger.
The Morlocks were survivors. Outcasts. People whose mutations had made them too grotesque for the world above, shunned from everyone they have known. They had carved out a pitiful existence in the sewers, moving from one crumbling hideout to another, always one step ahead of the extremists who hunted them.
And now this man had found them. As if they hadn't been hiding at all.
"We're Meta-Human too, you know," chirped one of the teenagers—a bubbly girl with an easy smile. Before Callisto's disbelieving eyes, the girl split into two identical copies, both grinning.
Beside her, the violet-haired girl summoned a blade of pure psychic energy, its glow casting eerie light across the tunnel walls.
A murmur rippled through the Morlocks. These strangers weren't just talking—they were 'likethem'.
Callisto's grip on her knife tightened. "What's this 'Meta-Human' thing you keep saying?"
The blonde girl—Clarice—stepped forward, her nose wrinkling slightly at the sewer stench. "We call ourselves Meta-Humans because 'mutant' is derogatory terms. We're people are just another people with Meta genes, not some... cancer on humanity."
Callisto barked a laugh. "Pretty words. But what about you, old man?" She jabbed a finger at Sebastian. "You one of us?"
"No," Sebastian said smoothly. Then, with deliberate slowness, he removed one glove.
The transformation was instantaneous. His hand twisted, scales erupting across skin as fingers elongated into razor-tipped claws. The air itself seemed to shudder as a draconic aura pulsed from him—ancient, predatory.
"I am... more complicated than that," he murmured, flexing claws that could rend steel.
The Morlocks recoiled. Even Callisto took an involuntary step back.
Sebastian's glove slid back on, the genteel butler once more. "Now, allow me to outline what Prince Sai offers."
He spoke of food. Not scraps, but meals—hot and plentiful. Jobs with dignity. Homes above ground, with windows and doors that locked. Safety. Normalcy.
With each word, Callisto saw her people's expressions shift—doubt giving way to hesitant hope. The dream he painted was impossible.
And yet...
The butler's golden monocle caught the torchlight as he finished. "The choice is yours, Ms. Callisto. But know this—the prince does not make offers twice."
The sewer tunnels fell into a heavy silence as Sebastian's words hung in the damp air. The Morlocks' faces—twisted by mutations, scarred by hardship—flickered with something fragile. Hope. But just as quickly, it was smothered by the weight of their reality.
Callisto's laugh was sharp, bitter. "Stop joking, old man." She gestured violently at her people—at the hunched forms with too many limbs, the faces that no longer looked human. "Look at us! We're here because we're rejects. The world up there hates us!"
Her voice cracked on the last word, raw with years of pain. Around her, the Morlocks sagged, their brief moment of hope crushed under the familiar boot of despair.
Sebastian didn't flinch. "I assure you, Ms. Callisto, I do not joke." He adjusted his monocle, the gold glinting in the dim light. "My master, Prince Sai Von Morvayne, is himself a Meta-Human."
A collective gasp rippled through the tunnel.
"What?!" Callisto's single eye widened. "He's a *mutant*?"
"Once again, It's Meta-Human now, But, Yes Indeed," Sebastian said smoothly. "And he intends to reclaim Genosha—to build a nation where Meta-Human kind can live without fear." His gaze swept over the Morlocks, lingering on each twisted face. "Unlike others who make empty promises, His Highness offers you proof. Starting with this—"
He paused deliberately.
"The prince can restore your original appearances."
The silence that followed was deafening.
---
"C-Can Leech look good, Sir?"
The small, lizard-like boy shuffled forward, his voice hesitant. His yellow eyes, too large for his face, shimmered with a hope so fragile it hurt to see.
Sebastian knelt without hesitation; his gloved hand gentle as it rested on Leech's scaly head. "Of course, child… Prince Sai will make you handsome in no time."
The Morlocks stared. No one touched Leech—not without flinching, not without disgust. Yet here was this pristine butler, treating him like any other boy.
Marrow, her bone spikes protruding grotesquely from her skin, turned away to hide her trembling lip. Sunder, massive and misshapen, blinked rapidly.
Callisto watched them, her chest tight. Her people were breaking—not from cruelty, but from kindness.
Callisto exhaled sharply, then turned to her inner circle—Caliban, Marrow, Sunder. Their nods were subtle but clear. 'We're in.'
She faced Sebastian again, squaring her shoulders. "We'll join you. But first—honor our way. A duel."
Sebastian's eyebrow arched. "How... archaic." But he nodded. "Very well. Make your move, young lady."
" Alright Old Man, YAAHH!!" Callisto lunged with a battle cry—
—only for her world to spin.
A single, crisp 'SLAP' echoed through the tunnels.
One moment she was charging; the next, she was on the ground, her vision swimming, the side of her face burning. The last thing she saw before darkness took her was Sebastian straightening his cuffs, utterly unruffled.
"Anyone else care to duel?" he asked pleasantly.
The Morlocks' jaws hit the floor.