The cavern was cloaked in shadows, the occasional flicker of 621's controlled flame casting dancing, macabre shadows across the uneven walls. The air hung heavy with the scent of damp earth, mixed with the metallic tang of blood that still clung to the atmosphere.

621 stood there, a silent and stoic figure, his bandaged form a testament to the recent struggle with the Otso. The makeshift bandages wrapped tightly around his wounds, an emblem of the survival skills instilled in him by the Order of Shadows. His expression remained unreadable, his eyes seemingly devoid of any emotion.

In the centre of the cavern, the woman was bound to a stalactite, her unconscious form a stark contrast to the surroundings. The dim light caught the glint of sweat on her forehead, evidence of her recent struggle. The ropes that secured her to the rocky formation creaked as she stirred unconsciously, a phantom attempt to free herself.

The silence in the cavern was broken only by the sound of dripping water echoing in the distance, creating an eerie backdrop to the impending interrogation. The uneven ground beneath 621's boots added a subtle crunch to his movements as he approached the restrained woman, the echoes amplifying with each footstep.

621 loomed over the captive woman. His intent was not immediately evident, but a closer inspection revealed a meticulous examination. His piercing gaze quickly traced the contours of her face, mapping out each distinctive feature in his mind. This dark habit, ingrained by the Order of Shadows, compelled him to commit every detail to memory.

Cascading raven-black hair, now tangled and disheveled, framed a face marked by the residue of dried, caked blood—a brutal tapestry of her struggles. Despite the harsh circumstances, her countenance held a haunting allure. A peculiar scar adorned her cheek, almost imperceptible unless one scrutinized with the intensity of 621's meticulous gaze. Subtle lines etched across her forehead and eyes which hinted at the passage of time, a life marked by experiences, yet still shrouded in mystery.

621 withdrew a small vial from within his cloak, its contents shimmering in a mysterious concoction. With a swift motion, he uncorked the vial and ingested its contents. The potion worked its enigmatic magic, subtly altering something within him. As the elixir took effect, 621 cleared his throat and awkwardly uttered a simple word to the cavern's emptiness.

“Hello..”

He listened intently to his voice, analyzing the changed resonance with a curious gaze.

621 pondered internally, "Not bad. The potion worked. My voice sounds...older, more authoritative….good.”

He looked back and continued to observe the unconscious target causing the atmosphere to still, and the cavern to hold its breath as if an unknown shift had suddenly taken place. For a moment, a sense of peacefulness surrounded the two individuals until a single action invaded the quiet cavern.

621 nonchalantly raised his hand, and with a swift, brutal motion, delivered a resounding slap across the woman's face.

The force of the blow snapped her back to consciousness, and her eyes shot wide open, revealing a mix of surprise and pain. The cavern echoed with the sound of the slap.

The woman's eyes though sightless, flickered with confusion before widening in sudden realization. A torrent of emotions flooded her expression, morphing from bewilderment to desperation as she comprehended the depth of her grim situation.

Bound by ropes and with her mangled limbs, she felt herself struggling against the cold rope but it was useless, it was naught but a frail attempt at freedom.

Her bloody eyes darted around in lost confusion, attempting to discern any subtle sounds that might provide a clue about her unknown surroundings. With a quick and disoriented movement of her head, she strained to rely solely on her acute hearing.

"H-hello?" she called out hesitantly, her voice echoing through the cavern as she sought any sign of a response. She waited for a reply but there was nothing but the sound of water droplets.

“Where am I?....somebody please…respond, anyone…” she mumbled.

“HELLO!” she screamed once more, this time with a newfound intensity. “Can anyone hear me!?

No matter the intensity of her cries for help, nothing responded back to her besides the rebounding echoes of her own voice and the soft rippling sound of droplets.

Met with the ominous silence of the surroundings, her anxiety intensified. Panic took hold as a surge of fear and desperation fueled her survival instincts. She felt naked for an unknown reason. In an explosive outburst, she continued to scream for help.

"Help! Please, somebody help me!"

The desperation in her voice cut through the darkness like a knife. Each word carried the weight of fear and uncertainty, echoing in the cavern with a haunting plea for salvation. However, the cavern seemed to absorb all of her cries, offering no solace in return. It only amplified her sense of isolation and despair, enveloping her like a ghostly shroud.

In the dimly lit cavern, the woman's frantic cries for help reverberated off the cold, damp walls, creating an atmosphere of hopelessness. Unseen by her sightless eyes, 621 stood right in front of her, a silent spectre lurking in plain sight. His presence, though wordless, radiated an eerie energy that seemed to permeate the very air. The oppressive stillness in the cavern was only broken by the woman's desperate pleas, creating an unsettling ambiance that sent shivers down the spine.

His head was tilted to the side staring directly at the woman’s face. There was a peculiar gaze to his eyes, one that observed with scrutiny, yet there was something else mixed in with his curious gaze, one much darker, unknown, sickening – it was hidden deeply behind a façade.

After a couple of moments, 621 raised his hand once more. It was a silent command that hung in the air, and then, like an ominous force, it descended down delivering a powerful blow to the woman's face who was in mid-plea.

“Anybody there? please HEL-!?”

A loud sound reverberated around the cavern as her words were abruptly cut short as pain quickly surged through her. With an air of authority, 621 spoke a single word,

"Quiet."

The altered timbre of his voice, a result of the mysterious potion, resonated with a deep and unsettling tone that silenced the woman completely.

It wasn't just the pitch that affected her; it carried an undercurrent of dread that reached into the core of her anxious state, forcing her into fearful submission. This forced the atmosphere to hang heavy with tension as the cavern once again succumbed to silence, broken only by the woman's subdued whimpers.

Moments lingered and the woman, her face now stinging from the forceful slap, struggled to comprehend the sudden change. Fear gripped her, and she found herself unable to move or speak.

"What do you want from me?" she finally managed to ask.

Her voice carried a tremor of fear; her eyes, sightless and searching, failed to pierce the shadows concealing her captor.

"Information" 621 responded. He loomed over her, a silent threat in the darkness.

"Tell me about the underground arms dealers in Salem. Names, locations, everything you know."

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Silence reigned for a moment as the woman grappled with her fears, uncertain of how her responses would be received. 621, impatient with the pause, uttered a single word, laden with menace.

"Speak!"

621's cold eyes bore into the woman as she stammered,

"There... there are four that I know of, d-dangerous ones."

"Tell me," 621 demanded, his voice low and menacing.

"Who are they?"

"Th-there's the Shadowblade Syndicate. Darkshade leads them. They hide in the shadows, dealing in stealthy weapons and poisons. The base is in an old warehouse on the outskirts."

621's stern expression remained unyielding. "Continue."

"The Iron Fist Cartel, led by Ironhand. They're in the industrial district, dealing in heavy weapons and armour."

"The Crimson Serpent Guild. Scarlet Siren leads them. They use a brothel as a front, right in the city center. Concealed weapons and covert ops."

The woman gulped, her eyes darting nervously.

"And finally, Ebon Horn Associates. Shade Weaver is their leader. They operate from the catacombs, dealing in magical artifacts and enchanted weaponry."

621's sharp eyes studied her closely. His mind silently registered each detail she had shared, but a growing skepticism lingered. The absence of any mention of "Vulture" raised suspicion.

Inside 621's calculating mind, a storm of thoughts churned.

‘Why does she withhold information about Vulture? What is the reason?’

His gaze intensified, piercing through the dimly lit cavern, as if attempting to unravel the woman's hidden secrets.

The woman, aware of the scrutiny, felt a palpable tension in the air. The silence seemed to amplify the gravity of the situation, and her fear deepened. It was as if 621's gaze had the power to expose the truth she wished to conceal. Her discomfort escalated, transforming the cave into an ominous stage where predator and prey engaged in a silent dance of scrutiny and evasion.

‘A different alias perhaps?’ 621 pondered. ‘An eyepatch….’, he suddenly recalled the handler say.

"Describe their appearances," he demanded, his voice low and commanding.

The woman, visibly distressed, complied with a shaky voice as she painted vague description of the arms dealers.

“Darkshade, h-he's tall, covered in dark robes. His face... hidden.”

‘Face covered huh…a possibility’, 621 thought.

..

“Ironhand, big guy, shaved head. Arms... augmented somehow, like metal woven into his skin. It's terrifying."

‘Unlikely, augmented arm is too conspicuous.’

..

“Scarlet Siren, A slender woman, blonde, always in the shadows. Her cloak... it blends with darkness.”

‘Not possible, target is male.’

..

“Shade Weaver, charismatic man, dresses flamboyantly. S-stands out. People notice him, can't miss him."

‘Same with Ironhand, too conspicuous, unlikely to be Vulture…’ 621 interpreted mentally.

621's voice, altered by the mysterious potion, cut through the tense air of the cavern, "Describe their appearances in more detail. Specifically, tell me if any of them wear an eye patch."

The woman, still bound and partially immobile, hesitated for a moment, her fearful eyes scanning her memory.

"No," she finally responded in a shaky voice.

"None of them wear an eye patch. They have distinctive features, but none match that description."

621's piercing gaze intensified, and he leaned in slightly, "Darkshade, the one you mentioned, does he show his face? How can you be certain he doesn't wear an eye patch if he conceals his features?"

The woman's brows furrowed in uncertainty, the weight of her own words sinking in. "Well, I... I don't know for sure. There were reports of him having two blue eyes in the past, but he's hidden his face recently. I can't be certain about an eye patch."

His stoic expression remained unchanged, but inwardly, he processed the information. The lead on Darkshade's hidden face seemed less promising than he had hoped.

‘Perhaps there is still a chance with this Darkshade, what if the eyepatch is a recent addition to his visage? However, that doesn’t explain the use of a different alias…a double identity? No, that is unlikely…’

..

‘Vulture…just who are you?’

His sharp gaze bore into the woman, silently analyzing her every reaction. ‘Tensed facial muscles, lip biting, trembling, sweaty forehead, stammering, darting eyes; she is genuinely scared. Perhaps she doesn’t know anything of note…yes..’

‘It’s possible…but I’m curious.’

..

"A new customer," he echoed, his words dripping with a sinister mocking tone. The flickering flame in his hand cast eerie shadows across the cavern walls, amplifying the ominous atmosphere.

“Explain.”

The woman, visibly taken aback, struggled with her words.

"I... I conduct business with various people," she stammered, her voice shaky and uncertain. Her bound hands fidgeted nervously as she attempted to explain, but the fear in her expressions betrayed the façade of composure she tried to maintain.

621 loomed over her, his presence dominating the small space. The rhythmic drip of water echoed through the cave, underscoring the oppressive silence that followed. His mind was calculating, analyzing every nuance of her response.

The subtle sound of his footsteps echoed as he circled in front of her her like a predator closing in on its prey. The flame in his hand danced with each movement, casting eerie shadows that played tricks on the cave walls. His words were measured, delivered with calculated cruelty.

"Conducting business with desperate men in the dark corners of fallen Salem. Exactly what business brings you to such odd characters?" he inquired, his voice a low growl.

"I... I'm just the go-between," she stammered, her voice a mere whisper in the oppressive silence.

"I connect clients with an organization. They provide a service, and I ensure the transactions happen smoothly."

Her bound hands fidgeted, fingers nervously tracing the coarse texture of the rope. Beads of sweat glistened on her forehead as she attempted to justify her position. The dim light from 621's flame cast flickering shadows, dancing around her, intensifying the sense of captivity.

621, unmoved by her feeble attempt at explanation, continued to loom over her. His eyes, obscured by the darkness of his hood, bore into her, dissecting every word for hidden truths. The cave seemed to amplify the tension, the silence ringing louder than any words spoken.

His voice sliced through the silence like a razor. "Who do you work for?", 621 refused to believe the woman worked alone in such transactions.

The question, though seemingly straightforward, carried the weight of unseen threats, promising repercussions should she withhold the truth.

It was a sensitive piece of information the woman knew had to be closely guarded; she was caught in a predicament.

However, she cast a furtive glance towards her mangled limbs and instinctively knew that she had to answer correctly.

"I... I represent an organisation," she admitted as she bit down on her lip drawing blood. The words hung silently in the oppressive atmosphere.

"An organization that thrives within the shadows. They value discretion, anonymity. My role merely a cog in their intricate machinery" she explained.

“Name. What. Is. The. Name?” 621 deliberately pronounced word for word.

The woman, acutely aware of the precariousness of her situation, hesitated only briefly before surrendering the information.

"We're known as 'Umbral Council,'" she stammered, the weight of the revelation hanging heavily in the air.

But 621 wasn't satisfied with mere names; he sought deeper insights into the clandestine world she inhabited, he wanted everything she had to offer. He felt that he could use this information somehow for his own advantage.

"What is the purpose of the Umbral Council? What do they specialize in?" he pressed slowly, his voice unyielding, each word chiselling away at the woman's mental defences.

She, now caught in the vice grip of fear, began to unravel the organization's ominous purpose. "The Umbral Council deals in the acquisition and distribution of knowledge and items. We thrive in the black markets, trading in secrets and maintaining some influence over those in power."

As her words lingered, 621 wasn't finished. He probed further, extracting details about the organization's current standing within Salem thus unraveling the threads of their influence as well as other types of information he felt he needed.

The woman, mentally defeated and fearing the consequences of holding back, reluctantly provided morsels of information, laying bare the intricate web of deceit and power woven by the Umbral Council within the city that she was aware of.

..

621, with a calculated air of manipulation, leaned closer to the restrained woman. His voice, laced with the promise of a twisted freedom, cut through the tension-laden atmosphere of the cave.

"You desire release, don't you? I can offer that, but only if you cooperate."

In response, he produced a small vial filled with a mysterious liquid, swirling it around for her to hear.

"This potion has the power to mend your wounds," he declared, a subtle flicker of an enigmatic smile playing on his lips.

"All you need to do is to hand over an object that signifies your allegiance to the Umbral Council. Something that binds you to them."

The woman, her keen senses fixated on the vial, couldn't suppress the flicker of doubt that danced in her subconsciousness. "How can I trust your claim about this potion and the promise of freedom?" she questioned, her voice a shaky echo in the dimly lit cavern.

With an air of calculated confidence, 621 uncorked the vial, releasing a subtle, herbal fragrance into the air. "Sniff it," he commanded, holding the open container near her restrained face.

"The scent will tell you all you need to know."

The woman, hesitant but compelled by curiosity, cautiously took a whiff.

“Thi-this is…” she stammered with a glimmer of hope.

The unmistakable aroma of eucalyptus greeted her senses, a fragrance commonly associated with healing potions. The familiarity of the scent seemed to lessen the grip of uncertainty that had tightened around her.

As the fragrance lingered in the cave, 621 leaned back, a stoic expression masking any hints of his true intentions.

"You have your confirmation," he stated, his voice carrying an eerie calmness.

"As for your freedom, it's within reach. All you need to do is cooperate and trust my words” he paused momentarily.

..

“Besides, what other choice do you truly have?"

The woman, caught between the fear of her current predicament and the glimmer of a desperate hope, hesitated before complying. "It's... it's in my dimensional bag," she stammered, her eyes betraying the wariness that lurked within.