The room finally exhaled. Shadows from the dim lights
stretched across the walls, painting everything in muted gray. The Painkillers
shifted subtly, waiting, watching, the air thick with silent obedience.
Silver rose, smooth and deliberate, carrying an authority
that made the very air feel heavy.
"Well, that's all for today, boys. You may rest now."
His voice carried cold finality.
"And yeah… take Bond with you. He hasn't eaten"
A ripple passed through the crowd. One man stepped forward,
calm and gentle in a room of disciplined shadows. He bent slightly, to meet Bond's eyes.
"Are you really Bond…?"
Bond's gaze was sharp, cold.
"I think so."
The man exhaled softly, a sound heavy with recognition and
quiet sorrow.
"Yeah… it's you. After all. Silver brought you."
He straightened, brushing a hand lightly across his collar.
"You know… I visited your place often. I saw you when you were just a little kid."
A faint smile flickered, caught in the memory of Vega,
before the light drained from his eyes.
"To me… and to all of Painkillers, Vega was never a pillar. He wasn't ruthless. He wasn't even a tower for us."
His voice dipped, weighted with reverence.
"For me… he was an angel. Someone who descended into hell to
give us… one last chance to remember we were human."
He stopped. The silence thickened, carrying the absence of
the man he had loved and lost.
"Guess the angel… wasn't strong enough to fight the whole hell."
Bond's throat constricted. He forced himself to speak, voice
small but deliberate:
"What's your name, mister?"
"Kirk."
Bond's world shifted. His chest tightened. His heart
thrummed painfully against ribs that still hadn't grown accustomed to loss.
And then the memory came, vivid and unrelenting.
---
Vega knelt before Bond, holding his son's gaze with
unwavering attention. Sunlight streamed through the windows, warm and
forgiving. Bond's mother sat nearby, eyes wide but calm, letting him be with
his father. Everything was quiet, ordinary — a fragile bubble of normalcy.
"Look at me, Bond."
hands gripping his father's. Tears welled,
but he met Vega's gaze.
"Pretty soon… somebody is going to come. They'll take me
somewhere far."
"No!" Bond's voice broke, shattering the quiet.
"You can't leave me! You're going to leave me alone! Why,
Dad? Why can't you fight them? You're strong… always strong!"
Vega's hand rested lightly on Bond's shoulder.
"You will not be alone." His voice was calm, certain.
"There will be someone… someone just like me. Someone who
will treat you as I do. You'll meet him. His name… is Kirk."
Bond let the words sink into him, fragile and impossible to
ignore.
---
and that was the moment Bond realized why the name Kirk felt like a heartbeat he'd forgotten."
And the memory detonated inside him—bright, painful, alive.
Tears slid slowly down his cheeks, dripping onto the cold
floor. Each drop carried memory, loss, and a fragile thread of hope.
He walked forward, measured, deliberate — carrying grief and
trust alike. Kirk followed silently, letting him find his rhythm, letting him
bear his grief naturally.
For the first time since the massacre, Bond did not feel
completely abandoned.
---
Meanwhile, elsewhere, the pillars of Darima gathered in a
luxurious room. Four chairs circled a polished round table. Crystal glasses
glimmered faintly, catching the low light.
Doccaro set down his tea cup, quirking an eyebrow at Noir.
"What did Darhua even see in you?"
"Maybe I told everyone out there, right?"
casually fixing his hair.
"Yeah, but still… you have to be somewhat powerful to be a
pillar. Family wars, politics… you know the drill." Doccaro leaned back,
smirking.
Doccaro smirk widening. "Your brain really that big, taking care of all the muscles in your body?"
Noir sighed, exhaling slowly. "Let's be honest… I'm not
winning one-on-one. But my team versus yours? Guardians will come out on top."
Doccaro's laugh boomed, sharp and amused. Water glimmered at
his eyes before he locked gaze with Noir.
"All it would take is one punch. Do you think your team
could stop me?"
"Okay, okay, okay," Silver interrupted, clapping lightly.
"We can talk later, guys," Psycho said, the fourth pillar,
his pierced mouth catching the light.
Silver's gaze bore into Noir. Hands firmly on the table,
voice calm and commanding:
"So tell us exactly what you did, Mr. Einstein."
Noir met his stare, unflinching. The room seemed to shrink
under the weight of power, pride, and silent threats.
---
Meanwhile, at the police station…
"What do you mean there are no fingerprints on the entire
house?" Nicolas shouted, eyes wide, disbelief painted across his face.
Flint stepped forward, holding the reports, grim and
exhausted.
"Sir… we have nothing. CCTV footage gone. Even of Streets nearby Wiped clean. No fingerprints on doors, doorbells, or inside the house — except
for the family themselves."
Christine sighed with a fainting voice "even his face...you can't recognize him. it's completely destroyed "
Flint raised his voice so Nicolas could hear " maybe they knew what we will go after , who we will target , they knew everything and they wiped out everything"
Nicolas ran a hand through his hair, pacing. "So… all that…
in such a short time? And the neighborhood? Surely someone saw something?"
Christine shook her head. "No, sir. They said, first they heard gunshots. Then… the attackers used speakers, warning anyone who came
out of their house, they'd be killed immediately."
Nicolas clenched his jaw. "What the hell is going on?"
Flint's eyes were sharp, anger and exhaustion mingling.
"Someone took care of everything. Every trace erased. Even tire marks gone."
"What about the CCTV?" Nicolas pointed towards flint.
"Someone must have used it. Someone must have seen them. Find them!"
Flint's gaze hardened. "Sir… they're all… wiped out somebody removed everything, threatening the owners. We've
confirmed it."
Silence fell over the station, suffocating. Even the faint
light filtering through blinds seemed extinguished.
Nicolas stood frozen, mind spinning. There was no way to
trace the killers. No evidence, no witnesses.
His thoughts were spinning.
All of it had been executed by a single man: fragile in
body, sharp in mind. A man who could shatter the confidence of the best officer
in the city.
...and in that mess of erased evidence, Nicolas could sense a mind behind it—precise, patient, terrifyingly efficient.
That mind was Noir.
"I don't have to tell you anything," Noir said, leaning back
with that lazy defiance in his eyes. "If you doubt me, ask Darhua."
The air shifted.
Footsteps echoed in the hall — slow, steady, unhurried — yet
the weight behind them pressed on every chest in the room. Darhua stepped
through the doorway like a man carved out of authority itself. His gaze didn't
simply fall on them — it cut through them.
The pillars respected Darhua… but not in a way that made
them rise from their seats or bow their heads. And Darhua never wanted that. For him Respect born out of fear was cheap. He wanted the kind that comes from heart, from
instinct — the kind that appears uninvited the second his presence fills a
room.
And it did.
Silence crashed over them. You could hear the wind hitting against the windows.
Darhua walked straight to the framed photograph on the wall
— his father, the former head of the Darima family. A man whose shadow still
ruled parts of their world. Darhua stood before the picture with a dead composure,
a reverence born from blood and legacy.
Without turning, he spoke
"I selected him, Silver. I know exactly who he is."
Silver stiffened. Noir didn't flinch.
"He is not a threat. He is a pillar — just like all of you. He is a member of DARIMA FAMILY"
Darhua's voice held no room for argument.
"And for your information, the entire mess you left behind
while killing Vega… was wiped clean by him. The police have nothing — no trail,
no face, no clue about Vega or about us. All thanks to him."
Silver's eyes snapped toward Noir, sharp as steel.
Noir raised an eye, calm as a sleeping lake.
"He's Gilbert to them, as you know."
Darhua moved to his chair and sat, fingers interlocked,
posture sharp and steady. His gaze swept over each pillar — a quiet reminder of
why he led them, why they followed.
"There is someone you have to take care of," he said, his
eyes locking on one man.
"Psycho".