"Starting," one might say. You could claim everything began here — or maybe before this, countless untold stories had already bled into the world. But our story starts from here.
A house crouched in the middle of a silent neighbourhood, surrounded by cars packed so tightly they looked like a steel cage. Engines still ticked with leftover heat. Headlights carved pale shapes across the empty street. Curtains trembled in nearby homes — people watching, people pretending not to watch, people praying it wasn't their fate knocking tonight.
Inside that house swallowed by muscle and metal, the air was thick enough to choke on. Men stood in shadows, whispering like vultures arguing over the last piece of meat. And in the middle of them… one man stood drenched in blood. Seven bullets had already torn through him, each one carving its own path of ruin. Yet he stood. Still. Unmoving.
"How long till he dies?" someone muttered.
"He's not even shivering…" another whispered.
A normal man would've been gone long before the smoke faded. But this man wasn't clinging to life for himself. He was anchored by someone behind him.
In the shadow of his torn, bleeding frame, a woman and a child pressed against the wall. The woman's hands trembled around her son. Tears streamed silently, but she wasn't screaming. She was just holding him.
"So this is what you wanted, right, Vega?" a voice asked.
"Not quite," Vega murmured. "I would say… Silver."
Silver stepped forward, face unreadable. "All of you are gonna die. Your child, your wife, your adopted parents. You couldn't save those old folks, and you won't be able to save anyone dear to you."
Vega smiled — a tired, broken smile. "You think if I wanted… I wouldn't have…?"
The men around him knew exactly who stood before them. Vega — the man who stood against a Father, one of the Towers of the world, alone.
Vega: Let only my son live.
Silver: You really think I would go against Darhua to save your child? All because we had some little friendship once?
Vega: Yeah.
Silver: Shoot him.
The command hit the room like a hammer. Vega's wife froze. Even the gunmen hesitated. But orders were orders.
Gunfire erupted. Eleven more bullets. Each one punched through flesh, shaking Vega's frame but not dropping it.
"Stop," Silver said.
Silver: So… you still think we're friends?
Vega: All I'm asking is you save my son. You can convince Darhua, right? He only wants me dead.
Silver: Then why not try to save your wife too?
Vega didn't speak. He just smiled through his collapsing body.
Silver's eyes flickered with anger.
Silver: Kill his wife.
His men froze — terrified, confused. Watching a man take eighteen bullets and remain standing had already rattled their nerves.
Silver (shouting): KILL THE BASTARD AND HIS WIFE!
The men reacted and killed the wife — a shot directly to the head. They were about to kill the child, but the man aiming at the boy was shot dead by Silver.
The room froze.
Silver: You can rest, dude.
Vega's body finally fell to its knees. It was over. Vega was dead.
The child screamed, raw and desperate. He had lost everything in one night. He was dragged outside by Silver, reaching toward his father's fallen body, wanting his mother's embrace again. Vivid memories flooded him.
But they were gone.
Gone forever.
The door shut.