[Two Hours Before C Heads to the Underground Club]
Dusk had long faded by the time C finally arrived home. The sun had completely vanished, leaving behind a dark sky sprinkled with faint stars.
The night air was cold, wrapping around his emotionless figure as he stepped inside, away from the noise and chaos of the day.
He didn't waste a second. C's mind always laser-focused on the endgame, shifted immediately to the next phase of his plan.
He moved to the dim corner of his room where a small desk stood like a command center.
Laid out neatly across its surface were components he'd ordered online earlier that morning. To most people, they looked like harmless, mundane parts. But in C's hands, they would become something far more significant.
The process of assembling the pistol began.
First, C took out the 3D-printed frame, made from a specialized polymer, lightweight yet impressively durable.
