My silent friend…
The city is no longer the same.
More than a hundred corrupt individuals have fallen in just a few weeks, each victim vanishing without a trace, as if they melted into thin air.
But someone has begun to notice.
One person… intelligent, perceptive, who doesn't let anything pass him by.
---
In the New York Police Department, Detective Madiot sits behind his desk, studying the victims' map, connecting the dots, reading the reports.
"It can't be just one person…" he says to himself, staring at the papers.
"He can't have killed all these people in such a short time… without leaving a trace."
He wipes his hand across his face, then smiles slowly:
"This man… I have to see his face. Know who he is… or what he is."
---
Madiot knows nothing about the Patch or the Super Stones, but he notices an unnatural pattern:
All the victims are corrupt.
There is no visible blood or conventional methods of killing.
Each crime is committed with a quietude, as if the killer were moving from the shadows themselves.
He sets the papers aside, gazing out of his window at the rainy city.
"I'll call him," he whispers, "the Owl Killer."
---
Meanwhile, in a dark alley, Silver walks calmly, the Black Pawn in his hand.
Rage fills him; each new victim empowers him, each use of the Stone strips away a piece of his humanity.
A corrupt businessman suddenly appears, laughing as if oblivious to the approaching danger.
I close my eyes and summon the Black Pawn.
The victim falls instantly, as if crushed by a stone from the sky.
I sit on the sidewalk, watching, a smile playing on my lips.
---
The next morning, Madiot sits with his henchmen.
"Have you noticed anything?" he asks sharply. "All the victims are corrupt… but the method of killing defies conventional explanation."
--- One of the assistants replies,
"He may be a serial killer, sir, but over a hundred people in such a short time?"
Madiot stares at the papers, his eyes glowing with curiosity.
"Not just a killer, he's something else… immense intelligence… a deadly calm. I want to know every detail."
He writes in his notebook: The Owl Killer.
---
Silver walks the streets, rain soaking his face, the whole city looking like a chessboard.
The black pawn gleams in his hand.
I say in a low voice to the board,
"Is anyone following me?"
The board whispers,
"Not yet… but someone is starting to notice your tracks."
He smiles coldly.
"Let's see who discovers, my silent friend… the game has just begun."
---
Another evening, Madiot visits the scene of a recent crime.
He stands before another rotten body, studying every detail, noticing the silence surrounding the place, the complete absence of any blood.
"What if this isn't just a human being?"
He whispers to himself.
"This killer… the owl-like assassin… I must understand him before he kills more."
---
My silent friend…
I sense a game bigger than revenge.
An eye is watching me now, someone thinking, planning, analyzing.
But he knows nothing of the stones, of the board, of the angry impulse that moves my hand.
And now, every step I take, every victim I choose,
every movement on the bloody board…
could be the beginning of my first encounter with Detective Madiot.