The streets of Novara lay quiet, shadows stretching long under the pale moonlight. A thin mist curled between the alleyways, carrying the faint scent of smoke and stone. Lamps flickered sporadically, casting uneven pools of light, while the distant hum of the city hinted at life persisting despite the chaos of the day. The night was calm, but it carried a weight an unspoken tension lingering in every corner.
Deton sat in the dim cell, chains heavy around his wrists. Outside, the moonlight spilled through the narrow window, casting a pale glow across his face. His eyes were steady, watching the night sky, calm yet alert. The silence of the room was thick, broken only by the faint creak of the chains as he shifted slightly.
Deton looked around the cell, calm but uncertain, unaware of what awaited him.
The door creaked open, and a guard stepped in, eyes sharp, radiating contempt and disdain.
"You're being moved for questioning," the guard said coldly.
He approached Deton, stopping just in front of him. From his belt, he pulled a blindfold and tied it securely over Deton's eyes. "You won't see where you're going," he added, voice laced with warning.
Chains clinked softly as Deton shifted, the darkness behind his blindfold now complete.
After a while of walking, the silent corridors stretching endlessly, Deton was finally placed on a chair. Hands moved quickly behind him, untying the blindfold. Deton opened his eyes to find himself in a stark white room, empty except for a table and two chairs.
The figures that had brought him here began to leave, one by one. Just as the last reached the door, he paused and turned, eyes cold.
"A detective will come soon to question you," he said with icy detachment.
Deton stared back, lips curling into a grin that revealed his teeth sharp, menacing. It was a smile that promised danger.
"hmmm, interesting..."
After a short while, Deton, Number Three, began to feel the weight of waiting. He glanced at the clock above the door again and again, each tick stretching the silence. The monotony bored him so much that he eventually dozed off.
Hours later, the door creaked open. Deton opened his eyes, fixing them on the figure entering.
The door opened quietly. Deton's eyes, still adjusting from the long wait, immediately fixed on the figure entering. A man in his late twenties, sharp and composed, stepped inside. Black hair with streaks of gray at the temples, dressed in a dark, elegant suit and a light coat. A watch glinted subtly on his wrist.
He carried himself with calm authority, every step measured, yet approachable. In one hand, he held a cup of steaming coffee in a sleek leather holder, as if even the smallest detail mattered.
"Deton," he said softly, his voice steady but warm. "I'm Bastion Voss. I've heard quite a bit about you."
Deton's eyes narrowed slightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
"You've got to be kidding me… I thought they'd bring someone terrifying, someone strong," he said, his gaze scanning Bastion's frame carefully.
"But… you look… frail. Weak."
Bastion sat down calmly across from Deton. He placed two cups of steaming coffee on the table.
He poured the first cup for himself, then the second, setting it in front of Deton.
Deton stared at the cup of coffee, steam curling upward, then lifted his gaze to Bastion.
"I don't like coffee," he said, raising his hands slightly. "And I'm… tied up. How am I supposed to drink this?"
Bastion took a calm sip from his own cup, never breaking eye contact.
Bastion took a calm sip from his cup, never breaking eye contact with Deton.
He replied evenly, a faint smile playing on his lips:
"Alright… I don't think those restraints were enough for you anyway. I'm sure you could break them."
Deton smiled, then laughed out loud, the sound echoing slightly in the empty white room.
"Quite the keen observation!" he said, flexing his muscles and snapping the handcuffs open with ease.
He placed his hand on the cup, taking a small sip.
Bastion also sipped his coffee calmly, showing no sign of worry, even as Deton's hands were now free.
Deton took a sip, a small smile forming on his lips as he placed the cup back on the table.
"Excellent… did you make this?" he asked, clearly impressed.
Bastion shook his head slightly, placing the cup down, and leaned forward, resting both hands on the table and bringing his face closer to Deton.
"No, my assistant did. It's professional," he said calmly.
He kept his gaze steady, unflinching.
"Then… shall we begin our investigation?"
Bastion leaned slightly forward, hands resting calmly on the table, eyes fixed on Deton.
"Deton," he began, his voice steady, measured, "in light of what happened yesterday… you were the only one from your gang who entered the Middle District. And yet, you didn't cause major destruction thanks to Novara's energy shield"
"But… you did kill a number of Novara police officers."
He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in, his gaze sharp yet calm, watching Deton's reaction.
Deton leaned back slightly, his grin widening, eyes glinting with confidence.
"And… what? Are you going to punish me for that?" he said, his tone mocking but calm.
"I'm not… remorseful."
Bastion ran a hand through his hair, leaning slightly forward, his voice measured yet firm.
"I'm not here to punish you… or to discipline you," he said, trying to assert his perspective clearly.
Deton's eyes narrowed, a smirk tugging at his lips.
"But you work for Novara," he shot back, his tone sharp. "And everyone who works under Novara… is corrupt!"Deton slammed his hand against the table.
Bastion spoke calmly, his tone measured, every word deliberate.
"I don't work for Novara. I'm simply someone seeking the truth."
Deton's eyes narrowed, leaning forward slightly, a hint of challenge in his voice:
"Then… why are you here? If you don't work for Novara, why did they bring you here at all?"
Bastion met his gaze evenly, never flinching.
"Simply put… my reputation precedes me. But they… they don't really need me. You are now inside their den. No one truly knows what they might do to you."
Deton leaned back slightly, tilting his head, curiosity flickering in his eyes.
"Ah… where exactly are we?" he asked, his tone casual but probing, trying to gauge Bastion's response.
Bastion's expression remained calm, his voice steady:
"I don't know," he admitted. "They brought me in blindfolded, just as they did with you. The blindfold wasn't removed until we reached the door."
Bastion leaned back in his chair, arms resting casually behind his head, eyes fixed on Deton.
"But based on my experience," he said thoughtfully, "I'd wager we're somewhere underground… perhaps a laboratory."
A faint shiver ran down Deton's spine at the mention of the word laboratory. He shifted slightly, a subtle reaction he didn't try to hide.
Bastion's gaze sharpened, noticing the movement.
"Does your motivation for attacking Novara… you and your companions… related to Laboratories?" he asked, voice calm but probing.
Deton remained silent for a few seconds, staring at Bastion with an unreadable expression.
Then, slowly… a faint smile appeared on his face.
"Not exactly," Deton replied.
His eyes darkened slightly.
"But my allies and I… we do have a history with those laboratories."
Deton frowned slightly.
"But why do you think we're in a laboratory?"
Bastion smiled faintly. Slowly, he raised a finger and touched the bridge of his nose.
"The smell."
A strangely excited smile appeared on Deton's face.
"Then… we must be under what they call the Rich District, right?"
Bastion raised an eyebrow, clearly puzzled by the question.
"Most likely."
Deton suddenly laughed loudly, his voice echoing through the empty room.
"Perfect… that's perfect!"
Deton stared at Bastion for a moment, studying him.
"Let me ask you something… are you strong?"
Bastion frowned slightly, surprised by the sudden shift.
"Strong?" he said. "Why would you ask that?"
For the first time, a trace of tension appeared in his eyes.
Deton spoke with unexpected sincerity.
"I don't want you to die."
His gaze drifted toward the surveillance cameras for a moment…
then he smiled.
Bastion narrowed his eyes, analyzing every movement.
Is he planning something? he thought.
Bastion leaned forward slightly, eyes sharp.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
Deton clenched his fist, the muscles in his arm flexing.
"I could destroy this entire city with my power," he said calmly.
"Even your strongest shields wouldn't stop this explosion."
Bastion's eyes narrowed, tension rising.
"Then… why haven't you done it before?"
Deton looked down at his hand, a shadow of sadness crossing his features.
"I don't want to hurt the children. They are… gentle souls."
Bastion studied him for a moment, silent, trying to read his intentions.
Deton stood up, his gaze locked on Bastion.
"But… what if I just blew this place up? Would you survive?" he asked calmly, almost teasing.
Bastion frowned, searching for a reason.
"Why would you want me to survive?"
Deton's lips curved slightly into a faint smile.
"Because… I think you're not a bad person.
Even though you're not a fighter and I don't care much for non-fighters but you… kind."
Bastion pressed a hand against his face, exasperated.
"Damn… aren't you supposed to be a bad guy?"
Deton laughed, a low, playful sound.
"Who knows… maybe I'm both," he said, then raised a finger and inserted it into his ear.
After a few seconds, a device clicked on.
"Hello, number one" he said smoothly.
Bastion's eyes widened, his gaze fixed on Deton.
Could he really be speaking to Number One? Bastion thinking
Deton laughed softly as he spoke.
"Yes… I suppose this is the end. Take care of yourself," he said, then jabbed the device in his ear with a quick motion, shattering it.
He looked down at the blood on his hand.
"I didn't achieve what I wanted to… but it's fine."
Bastion stood, eyes fixed on him.
"May I ask you one last question?"
Deton's gaze met his, a teasing glint in his eyes.
"You haven't run yet? Are you stupid, or what?… Fine, ask."
Bastion's voice remained firm, unwavering.
"Can you tell me… the reasons behind all this? And what happened to you in the past?"
Deton smiled, a shadow of mischief crossing his face.
"Oh… about that…"
As Deton began revealing his motives to Bastion, the detective's eyes widened in horror. Every word, every confession seemed to weigh heavier in the stark white room.
Outside, guards advanced down the corridor, weapons in hand, alerted by Deton standing tall, his handcuffs broken.
In the final moments before they reached the door, something shifted.
A brilliant yellow energy erupted around Deton, enveloping his entire body. The room seemed to hum with power, the air crackling with raw intensity.
He turned to Bastion, eyes gleaming.
"Are you sure… you'll survive this explosion?"
Bastion met his gaze steadily and nodded.
"Yes," he said, calm and unwavering.
The door burst open, but Deton had already charged his energy.
He let out a final, deafening scream.
Bastion extended his hands forward, his own energy flaring, merging with Deton's in a tense harmony.
The resulting explosion ripped through the room, obliterating everything around them. The underground structure shook violently it was indeed a laboratory, just as Bastion had suspected.
The shockwave tore through Novara itself. Buildings trembled, alarms screamed, and chaos erupted in the streets. Every citizen awoke in fear, wondering what catastrophic event had just occurred.
Beneath the grand cathedral in the wealthy district, the laboratory had been hidden. Now, it lay in ruins.
Most of its contents were obliterated, leaving barely any trace, yet some of the structural pillars remained intact, standing like silent witnesses to the destruction.
Teams of investigators had already begun surveying the scene, piecing together the aftermath of the catastrophic blast.
Many of Novara's elite had gathered, staring in shock and disbelief at the devastation. Cries of horror pierced the air fragments of bodies littered the ruins.
Amidst the wreckage, the rescuers carried anything salvageable. Among the few who survived the inferno was Bastion, lifted carefully onto a stretcher, alive but battered, his sharp eyes scanning the chaos around him.
Bastion had lost both of his hands. He stared at the stumps, blood dripping from them, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.
Everyone who tried to reach him assumed he couldn't speak, that he was unable to remember anything.
Amid the chaos and distraction of the others, his assistant seized the moment and stood beside him.
She was strikingly beautiful, with silky black hair tied elegantly, and her youthful, innocent features made her presence feel almost fragile yet comforting.
Bastion looked at her and spoke her name,
"Marisa… prepare the coffee when I return."
Hearing this, Marisa felt a pang of emotion
She reached for what remained of his hands, hesitating, thinking how he would even drink it now, having lost both.
Bastion tilted his gaze upward, staring at the ceiling.
"Who knows what awaits us next,"
The medics stepped forward, gently moving Marisa a few steps away from him.
Bastion was lifted and carried off, yet their eyes remained locked, holding onto the fleeting connection.
He moved further and further from her
Until...
Dispear.