The warehouse had never been louder.
Smoke curled toward the ceiling. Beats pounded from a half-smashed speaker someone dug up, and mismatched lights flickered in corners like dying stars. Bottles clinked, laughter roared, and a girl in a tattered tank top danced on a stolen table. The concrete floor pulsed with a joy that only came when death had been a little too close—and then passed you by.
Some people cheered like they were alive for the first time. Others just sat with their backs to the walls, chests heaving, eyes wide, trying to remember how to breathe.
Daiki sat on a crate in the center of it all, bruised and bloodied, nursing a drink with both hands. He grinned through a swollen lip, retelling the same moment like it was legend. "Man, he didn't even flinch—just walked through that devil's charge, like it was nothing. I'm tellin' you, blades out, blood flying, and he choked the thing with strings like some puppet master. Craziest shit I've ever seen."
Someone threw an empty can at him. Another voice yelled, "Yeah, yeah, we get it! Nirvikar's a monster!"
Daiki held up his drink in salute, undeterred. "You say monster, I say godsend."
A few laughed. Some raised their cups. Someone else shouted, "To Daiki, for not dying!" and the warehouse echoed with a chorus of mock cheers and offbeat claps.
In the back corner, Nirvikar leaned against a steel beam, watching.
He hadn't spoken much. Hadn't needed to. He observed, unmoving, cigarette between his fingers, unlit. There was a light film of blood still dried along his arm from earlier, cracked but unwashed, like a reminder. He didn't smile, but his gaze drifted—over the limping figures that had lived, the bruises that meant they'd fought for themselves, the laughter that only echoed now because they made it through.
Daiki sat on a crate in the center of it all, bruised but grinning, nursing a drink with both hands. He was telling the story like he'd won the damn fight himself.
Nirvikar had watched most of it unfold from the sidelines. Daiki had handled it—sloppy, loud, but alive. There hadn't been a moment where Nirvikar needed to step in. And he hadn't planned to.
Still, as the music pounded and the laughter echoed off concrete walls, he couldn't help but notice the way people glanced his way. Like he was the one they were really celebrating.
He wasn't. Not tonight.
He wasn't a hero. He didn't want to be one. But he was powerful, and that meant something here.
A younger kid, no older than fifteen, staggered over with two half-filled cups. "Hey—uh, boss? You want one?"
Nirvikar glanced down at the drink, then the kid. "No. You drink both."
The kid blinked, then laughed awkwardly and scurried back.
From across the warehouse, Rika walked in.
The air shifted. People noticed, even if they didn't say anything. The music didn't stop, but it softened. She walked past the mess without reacting, her boots echoing through the cracked floor.
She stopped beside him. Looked up.
"You're not drinking," she said.
He shrugged.
"You're not talking to them."
Another shrug.
She glanced at the cigarette in his hand. "Light that?"
He gave her a look—flat, unreadable—but lifted it to his lips.
Rika struck a match, lit hers, then leaned in. The tip of her cigarette touched his, fire passed between them. The moment held longer than needed.
Nirvikar exhaled smoke. "You want something?"
"Yeah," she said. "To know what you're thinking."
"I'm watching," he said. "That's all."
Rika looked at the gang again. "They like you. Fear you, too. That's good."
"They don't know me."
"They don't need to. They just need to know which way to follow when things go bad again."
She turned to leave but paused. "You know, Daiki's telling everyone you threw a guy through a car door."
"I did."
"I know. But still. You're starting to get a reputation."
Nirvikar let out a dry breath. Not quite a laugh, but close. "I'm already a ghost in my own skin. Let them build whatever legend they want."
Nirvikar leaned back, looking out at the party. He didn't smile, though he felt something, something unusual.
Rika took a drag from her cigarette and exhaled slowly. "You know, you've got a knack for getting things done. But I still wonder how long this'll last."
He looked over at her, his expression calm. "Nothing lasts forever."
"No," she agreed, "but we make the most of it while it does. Right?"
Nirvikar didn't answer right away. He just took a slow drag from his cigarette, the ember glowing in the dim light, and watched the chaotic celebration around him. It wasn't his kind of thing, but it was something.
"You ever think about what happens after?" Rika asked, tossing the end of her cigarette away.
"Sometimes," he said. "But it's always the same answer. Doesn't matter. Not right now."
She raised an eyebrow, a small, knowing smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. "Fair enough."
He flicked his cigarette into the street. "Let's see how long we can keep this going."
She stared at him. "You changed. Something's different."
"Maybe," he said. "I just had a lot to think through."
"Oh, what kind?" she leaned forward curious about what got him changing.
"Let's say hypothetically, you're just an ant in the universe." She interjected and said "We are ants compared to the universe though..."
A bit taken aback, he faked a cough. "Cough, let me finish first. So let's say everyone is just an ant and there's something that could erase the universe with just a snap of it's fingers, is it even worth building a team, a group. When compared to them you are strong and they'll just be a burden and they'll die leaving you, empty."
He took a pause, like a weight is settling in before saying.
"Is it truly worth it?"
"That sounds oddly specific." She gave him an odd look but then realization washes over her. "Wait are you talking about the gun devil?! You know you can be surprisingly naive." He sighed. "Just answer my question."
Rika's gaze softened, as if considering his words for the first time. She stood there for a moment, the warehouse's distant noise humming in the background. Finally, she exhaled a slow breath and leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.
"You know, I get it," she said, her voice quieter now, less sharp. "I get that you're looking at it from a place of... emptiness. It's easy to feel like everything's pointless when you're thinking about something that big. Something like... the Gun Devil." She paused, her eyes tracing the shadows on the walls. "But you're not alone in this."
He looked at her but said nothing, his face unreadable.
"The thing about a team," she continued, her tone thoughtful, "is that it's not about making sure every single person in it survives, or making sure every single person is useful in the grand scheme of things. It's about what you build, what you fight for, and the moments you share. Maybe it's foolish. Hell, it's probably a little naive. But it's the only thing that feels real when everything else just feels like noise."
Nirvikar didn't respond immediately. He glanced down at his cigarette, the ember flickering, then he looked back at her. "And if they all die? What happens to the 'team' then?"
Rika smiled, but it wasn't a triumphant one. More like the quiet smile of someone who had seen enough of life to know better, yet still chose to keep going. "Then you move on. It sucks. But you move on, and you keep building. It's what we do. The world doesn't stop for anyone."
Nirvikar mulled over her words, but didn't seem to find much comfort in them. "And if I fail to keep it all together? If this falls apart...?"
She stepped a little closer, her gaze locking with his. "Then you keep going, Nirvikar. Because that's all we can do. We don't get to choose when the end comes, but we sure as hell choose how we spend the time before it does."
The words lingered between them. There was no grand revelation, no sudden shift in his demeanor. But there was something there, something subtle in the way he looked at her, the way the haze of the party and the chaos around them seemed distant, almost irrelevant.
Finally, Nirvikar shrugged, letting the conversation fade into the air between them. "Maybe you're right," he said quietly, though it wasn't a declaration of hope. Just a simple acknowledgment. "But I don't need to like it."
"No one does," Rika replied, her voice awry but gentle. "But we do it anyway."
They stood there for a moment longer, the flickering lights and fading sounds of the party filling the space around them. It wasn't a resolution, not by any means. But for the first time in a long while, Nirvikar felt something more than just emptiness.
And that was enough for now.
Rika took one last drag from her cigarette, flicked it to the ground, and crushed it under her boot. She turned to him, ready to get back to the mess, to the chaos of the warehouse, to the people who still had their lives to burn.
But Nirvikar didn't move. His gaze was distant, as if he wasn't seeing the party anymore, wasn't seeing her either. His thoughts were elsewhere, caught in something she didn't understand.
He finally exhaled, almost like he was shaking himself awake, and said, "You know... create a banner."
Rika raised an eyebrow, her interest piqued. "A banner? For what?"
"Something to call this," he muttered, a slow realization settling in. "Something to put a name to this mess. To this group."
Rika chuckled. "You're getting sentimental on me?"
"Maybe," Nirvikar said, voice quieter. He looked at her, eyes sharper now, like something had clicked in his head. "Call it Firelight."
She stared at him for a long moment, not quite getting it at first. But then, it hit her—the weight behind it. The name wasn't just a label. It was something more. She could see the spark in his eyes, the rare flicker of a dream taking form in a place he thought was devoid of them. He wasn't just watching the world fall apart anymore. He was thinking about what he could build.
"I like it," Rika said, a smile tugging at her lips. "Firelight. Sounds like something that'll burn bright and get people's attention."
Nirvikar stood there a moment longer, a flicker of something almost... like a smile, though it never fully reached his lips. But for the first time in a long time, there was something more than emptiness behind his eyes.
His mind flashed back for a second, like a forgotten memory surging to the surface. He thought of the animated series Arcane, the way it captured a group of people fighting not just for survival, but for something more—something meaningful. The concept of fighting against an impossible world, of finding a spark to cling to when everything else was falling apart. The thought stuck with him, nestled deep in his chest, like an epiphany.
Maybe it was stupid. Maybe it was naive. But the seed was planted.
"Firelight," he muttered again, his voice firmer now, like he was testing it out. "Let's make something people remember."
Rika gave him a long look, then nodded. "Alright. Firelight it is."
Nirvikar turned away, but this time, as he looked back into the chaos, it wasn't just the noise he was returning to. There was a tiny spark in him now—a flicker of something worth fighting for, something beyond just surviving.
It wasn't much. But it was enough. For tonight.
---
Rika gave him one last glance—soft this time—and walked away.
He stood alone again, the echo of laughter behind him, smoke curling around the faint glow of a ceiling light. The music pulsed on. Somewhere in the chaos, Daiki was dancing now, terribly. The kid from earlier was passed out in a folding chair. And Nirvikar… Nirvikar just watched, not quite part of it, not entirely apart either.
For tonight, he let it burn.
Rika paused at the entrance, looking back one last time before stepping out into the night. Nirvikar stayed where he was, watching her go. He felt the weight of something heavier than the celebration around him—something that had been gnawing at him since he stepped into this chaos. But for now, he didn't move.
He let the warmth of the party and the weight of Rika's words sit with him, just a little longer. He hadn't changed much—he was still the same empty shell, walking through life with the remnants of his past hanging like a shadow. But maybe, just maybe, there was something different about tonight. A flicker of a chance.
The sound of music, the smell of smoke, and the occasional laugh or shout—they were all just background noise. Nirvikar's eyes glazed over for a moment, lost in thought, but then his attention snapped back to the present.
Daiki stumbled past, almost tripping over his own feet. His grin was as wide as ever, a streak of blood still dripping from his forehead. He waved wildly at Nirvikar. "Boss! Boss! You should join me for this!"
Nirvikar didn't reply immediately. Instead, he flicked his cigarette and watched the red ember disappear into the dark. "Maybe next time."
And with that, he turned away, stepping outside into the night, the hum of the party fading behind him.
For now, he was content to just be.
===========
AN:
So First of all Thank you to Author Herohero for giving me advice on how to make characters feel more alive, more them. It's a great advice since it cleared the doubts and fog in my head! So Thanks again to Author Herohero for that, check out his works it's in these platform as well.
Have a nice day.
Word Count: 2346