They smiled, answering me with a chilling assurance that they would not hesitate to carry out their plan. The atmosphere was becoming increasingly oppressive, and I could sense the growing excitement in their voices. Their fingers tightened around their weapons, ready to set everything ablaze without a moment's hesitation.
But just as they were about to act, gunshots suddenly rang out, echoing violently through the metal walls of the subway. The sharp, brutal sound stopped them dead in their tracks. Their smiles immediately disappeared, replaced by a gleam of panic in their eyes, as if they didn't yet understand what had just happened.
One of the group turned abruptly, desperately trying to understand what was happening. He would soon have his answer. A young man appeared in the carriage, emerging from the shadows. He wore a black blindfold that covered his eyes, making his appearance all the more unsettling. His steps were hesitant, clumsy, but in his hand, a gun gleamed eerily.
Without warning, he began to fire. Bullets flew in all directions, striking the subway walls with a sonic violence that rent the air. Panic-stricken passengers pressed themselves to the floor or sought shelter, cries of terror rising in the oppressive atmosphere of the carriage. There was no logic in his shots, no strategy. Each blast seemed more erratic than the last, and the effect was devastating. It was as if the young man himself didn't know what he was doing.
You could almost feel his pain, a muted distress that was evident in every uncertain gesture. His breathing was jerky, his movements jerky, and with every shot, a kind of desperation shone through. The chaos he sowed was not that of a relentless hunter, but of a lost soul, imprisoned in incomprehensible pain.
Just then, the same group that had been planning to set fire to the metro a few moments earlier turned towards me, their faces distorted by palpable fear. One of them, eyes wide and voice trembling, hastened to ask me, almost panting.
"Did you orchestrate all this?"
I shook my head calmly. "No, it's not me," I replied in a perfectly neutral tone.
Their transformation was almost laughable. A few seconds earlier, they'd been full of confidence, convinced of their macabre plan and ready to sacrifice everything. But in the face of this unexpected chaos, all their aplomb had vanished. Now, their gazes were shifty, their movements uncertain. One of them, obviously the youngest, was now at the end of his tether. His hands trembled as he almost knelt before me, his eyes filled with desperate pleading. "So, you're going to sort this out, are you? You've got a plan, don't you?" His voice was breaking, and he seemed on the verge of giving in entirely to panic.
I looked at him for a moment, observing the scene with a strange distance. His anguish contrasted so sharply with my own serenity that, for a moment, I was tempted to laugh. But instead, I took a deep breath and replied with an almost disturbing casualness: "A plan?" I shrugged, an indifferent smile on my lips. "I haven't really thought about it yet."
The young man, still kneeling, seemed stunned by my answer, as if he'd been hoping for some miraculous solution. But for me, there was nothing so urgent about the situation. I continued to calmly observe the scene, while anxiety spread around us like a creeping fire.
Panic in the subway reached fever pitch. Everyone had realized, in a wave of collective terror, that the young man shooting wildly was indeed the hunter. Worse still, his random, uncontrolled shooting made him all the more unpredictable, an immediate danger to everyone present.
Passengers were screaming, desperately seeking a way out. Some tried to hide behind the seats, while others remained frozen in fear, unable to move. Chaos reigned supreme, and the car's heavy air seemed to stifle any attempt at rationality.
Then a voice rose above the tumult. One person, in a moment of lucidity, made a remark that cut short the panic.
"Look! He's blindfolded! He can't even see what he's doing!"
All eyes turned to the hunter, and suddenly everything made sense. His vision was obstructed by the blindfold, explaining his erratic movements and chaotic shooting.
Hope revived in the eyes of some of the passengers. They realized that they now had a chance to take on the hunter. His vulnerability, caused by his blindfold, suddenly made them less helpless in the face of the terror he inspired. However, this glimmer of hope was tinged with uncertainty.
Sae and Edano also approached me. Sae, worried, asked me in a low voice: "Do you really think the fact that he can't see anything is to our advantage?" Edano, more taciturn, awaited my reply with equal anxiety. But before I could say anything, an unexpected scene unfolded before us.
A grown woman, her face marked by years and hardship, stood up abruptly. Without hesitation, she rushed towards the hunter and, with a strength that no one would have expected of her, delivered a brutal blow to his face. The hunter staggered under the impact, surprised, while the woman, short of breath, poured out all her grief and rage in a voice trembling with anger.
"That man..." She paused for a moment to catch her breath, then her words burst forth with brutal intensity. "I recognize him... That tattoo on his neck... It's him! That's the scumbag who molested my daughter!" Her eyes flashed with pure hatred, and everyone in the car froze, shocked by her revelations. "He did a few months in prison and then they released him as if nothing had happened! As if it wasn't so serious!"
She pointed an accusing finger at the hunter, her voice trembling but determined. "He destroyed my child's life, he destroyed our family! And now he's here... He deserves to die!"
Every word she spoke was laden with a mother's pain, a pain that had never gone away despite the years. She didn't speak with coldness or calculation, but with a tattered heart, driven by the distress and helplessness that had gnawed at her since the day her daughter had been broken. No longer a mere passenger, she was a mother at war with the monster who had stolen her child's innocence.
Her whole body seemed to bear the weight of this story, and in that moment, the crowd saw in her more than just an angry woman, she was the symbol of all the injustices that too often went unpunished.
The passengers, galvanized by the mother's determination and palpable pain, rose to their feet one after the other. There was no more hesitation, no more fear. They had seen the hunter on the ground, vulnerable, and their rage reawakened like an all-consuming fire. They hurled themselves at him with unprecedented violence, blows raining down relentlessly. Fists, feet, anything that could be used as a weapon was used against this man who, blinded by his blindfold, could do nothing but suffer. His pathetic attempts to defend himself were lost in the chaos of the blows.
The sound of impact echoed through the carriage. The brutality of the attack distorted the air, transforming the hunter into a mere body to be struck relentlessly and mercilessly. Cries of pain burst from his mouth, but were lost in the merciless onslaught of the passengers. The blows did not cease. Each man, each woman, struck as if to unleash not only their own fear, but also an accumulated anger, a collective vengeance.
Saé didn't dare look. She looked away, trembling, murmuring almost to herself: "It's horrible..." Her voice was broken with a mixture of sadness and disgust. She glanced at the scene, her eyes misty. The hunter was no longer a man at this moment, but terrified prey, unable to defend himself, unable to flee.
"Even if he has done something unforgivable, does that justify this violence?" asked Saé, more to herself than anyone else. She was searching for an answer to this question that was tormenting her mind. Her hands trembled slightly as she struggled to understand. "Does one become better by doing this?" she continued, her words muffled by the surrounding tumult.
The contrast between the furious crowd and Saé, devastated by what she was seeing, was striking. For her, justice was not to be found in this savage violence, and even in the face of the man who had done so much harm, she couldn't help wondering whether this lynching was the solution.
Edano, who had hitherto watched in silence, spoke up in a deep, almost disdainful voice. "Look at them... This isn't justice anymore. What they're doing is just gratuitous wickedness, an outlet for their frustrations. Man can really be horrible when he gives in to his baser instincts." His words resonated, full of truth. He wasn't wrong. In this madness, the desire for justice had been overtaken, replaced by raw hatred, a cruelty that seemed to have no limits.
Normally, all that was needed to neutralize the hunter was to signal him. The enigma system would have taken care of him, quickly and cleanly. But this woman, this mother shattered by the heinous crime this man had committed, and the other passengers who had joined in his wake, had decided to take justice into their own hands. It was no longer just the hunter they were punishing, but all the suffering they had accumulated, their own pain projected onto a man already down.
My eyes were riveted on the scene, lost in the unleashed violence, when I heard a barely perceptible whisper, a voice strangled by pain and fear. "Please..." The words were weak, pleading, almost drowned out by the sounds of banging and screaming. Yet I knew where they were coming from.
It was the hunter. His pleas broke the air, but no one was listening. He was alone, terribly alone, delivered to the cruelty of an enraged mob, but also to his own past mistakes. His crimes were catching up with him, but in this moment, he was just a man, desperate, begging for mercy that would never come. His complaints were crushed under the weight of the fists that kept coming down on him, gradually silencing him.
The scene was unbearable. The hunter, once perceived as a threat, was now no more than a victim, lost in his tormentors' spiral of violence. There was no one to defend him. The passengers had become judges and executioners, and he, alone in the face of their rage, could only beg in vain.
As the violence reached its climax, I felt an imperious instinct rise within me. Without thinking, I rushed towards the hunter, trying to hold back this woman, this mother devastated by hatred, who was lashing out with such fury. Her eyes were filled with tears, but also with the unshakeable determination to avenge her daughter. She struggled under my hands, unwilling to let go, determined to see her vengeance through to the end.
"Don't kill him!" I shouted, trying to break through the madness that was blinding her. But she wouldn't listen, lost in her rage. "Leave me alone, it's between him and me!" she kept repeating, her voice trembling, almost imploring.
Then, in a last effort, I retorted, my words desperately trying to pierce the armor of anger that consumed her. "If you kill him, you'll be nothing more than a criminal like him." These words seemed to hang in the air, heavy with meaning, and for the first time, she stopped.
Her gaze wavered, a split second when rage gave way to doubt. She stared at me, her hands still trembling, as if my words had echoed a part of her she'd forgotten. Slowly, she stepped back, finally releasing her hold. "You're right..." she murmured, almost like a confession. Her body stiffened, but the storm inside her seemed to subside.
She took with her the other passengers who had taken part in this brutal revenge. One by one, they ceased their blows, abandoning their destructive frenzy. The atmosphere changed from uncontrollable fury to heavy tension, filled with silence and regret.
She moved slowly towards the interface, ready to open the warning window that would neutralize the hunter once and for all. Her hand trembled slightly, but she was determined. As I stared at the beaten, vulnerable man on the ground, I noticed a tear roll down his cheek. This simple gesture, this tiny trace of fragility, awakened an unexpected impulse in me.
"Wait! Don't sound the alarm!" I suddenly shouted, my voice louder than I would have liked.
Everyone froze. The lady, already about to sound the alarm, looked at me, puzzled. The other passengers also looked at me in disbelief, trying to understand why I was intervening.
"Why?" she asked in a broken voice, confused by my reaction. Her gaze alternated between me and the hunter, as if trying to understand what could have changed in such a short time.
All eyes were on me, waiting for an explanation. I took a deep breath and launched forward, knowing that what I was about to say would probably upset everything they thought they knew.
"We've got it all wrong," I said calmly. "The hunter isn't a human... it's something else."
The silence was palpable. Everyone was staring at me, visibly shocked by this statement. One of them, a man with a strained face, dared to ask the question on everyone's lips.
"What do you mean by that? Give us more details."
I nodded before continuing, my thoughts becoming clearer as I spoke. "All along, we've been focusing on this image of a human hunter. We see his blindfold, we tell ourselves he's vulnerable, that all we'd have to do is neutralize him. But isn't that strange? A hunter, a predator, should be more dangerous, more difficult to reach, shouldn't it?"
A murmur of incomprehension ran through the assembly. Some exchanged puzzled looks, others shook their heads, still not understanding. But one of them, a man standing back, suddenly frowned, as if a light had just gone on in his mind.
"Wait..." he said, straightening up. "It's true, it doesn't make sense. From the start, the enigma seems to push us to focus on a human hunter, to believe that everything is centered on him. But what if he's just a distraction?"
The atmosphere changed instantly. The passengers looked at each other, realizing that perhaps something far more sinister lay behind this riddle.
I nodded in agreement. "Exactly. Look at him, he seems to be acting without any real control, as if someone were manipulating him from a distance. That's not natural behavior for a hunter."
Murmurs intensified among the passengers. Some nodded, others exchanged nervous glances. The puzzle was beginning to fall into place for them too.
"You mean the fighters are controlled?" asked a voice in the crowd. "Like they have a chip, or something?"
I smiled slightly before answering. "No, it's even simpler than that. You'll see."
With a serene gesture, I approached the so-called hunter, who was still writhing on the ground in pain. He didn't seem to understand what was happening to him. Without hesitation, I reached out to his face and ripped the blindfold from his head.
The silence in the carriage became deafening.
What I had just done was so simple, but it would reveal a far more complex truth.
I raised the blindfold high, drawing the attention of the whole carriage. "It's this object that's the real hunter," I declared in a loud, convinced voice.
A stunned silence fell among the passengers. Then mocking whispers emerged. "Is he crazy?" someone whispered. "Is this guy all right?" added another. A few nervous chuckles followed. "A blindfold? Seriously? He thinks we're idiots," I heard from a corner.
I paid no attention to their murmurs. I knew what I was saying made sense, even if they couldn't see it yet. Unperturbed, I replied firmly. "This blindfold... it doesn't just obscure sight. It manipulates its victims, turning them into hunters without their knowledge. It's him we need to neutralize, not the man."
The muffled laughter gradually disappeared, giving way to looks of confusion.
Edano stared at me intently before snatching the blindfold from my hands. "Someone give me a lighter," he ordered one of the passengers curtly.
"Be careful!" I exclaimed, genuine concern rising within me. "That blindfold could very well land on someone else and take control."
But Edano didn't seem at all impressed by my warnings. He glared at me, his eyes filled with defiance. "I know you're lying, Bun. If what you said was true, why did you ask that lady not to report the alert?" He paused, his tone becoming more accusatory. "You knew the blindfold wouldn't fit on a new victim. That's why you acted the way you did."
A nervous passenger handed him a lighter. Edano lit it without hesitation, bringing the flame close to the blindfold. A faint smell of burning fabric filled the air as the first sparks licked the black fabric. Then, without another word, he threw the flaming headband through the open subway window, his gaze hard, as if to put an end to this masquerade.
Shocked looks and worried murmurs filled the air. Nobody really knew what to make of the scene that had just unfolded. The blindfold, now in flames and thrown out of the metro, seemed to carry with it a palpable tension.
The victim, slumped on the ground, began to move weakly. A glimmer of humanity, of a man who seemed to be coming to after a long nightmare, appeared on his face. As he lifted his head slightly, his voice, trembling and hoarse, pierced the silence:
"...Thank you..."
This simple word, barely audible, nevertheless echoed in everyone's mind. It was as if the man, freed from his invisible burden, had finally regained his free will. He was no longer the hunter he had been forced to become.