The Dominion Museum fell into a silence that was worse than any alarm.

Fifteen thieves stood around Robin’s body.
A thin line of blood traced the marble like a signature.
The air felt colder than before — tight, heavy, electric.

The screen that showed the masked figure had gone black again, but its impact remained:

Someone else was inside the building.
Someone who knew their faces.
Someone who waved.

A taunt.
A claim.
A promise.

Samy was the first to break the silence.

“They’re watching us.”

Not metaphorically.
Not figuratively.

Literally.

Watching.

I. LOWKEY — connecting the unseen dots

Lowkey crouched beside the monitor, fingers hovering just over the static.

“It wasn’t a live camera feed,” he said.
“It was injected.”

Afodave blinked.
“In… injected?”

Lowkey nodded.
“Someone hijacked the internal screen manually. That means they’re plugged into the museum’s intel system. Not at the desk. Not at the control room.”

Subzero finished the thought:

“They’re somewhere deeper. Somewhere with direct access to the core wiring.”

Rish exhaled.

“The sub-basement.”

Lowkey didn’t look up.

“There is no sub-basement on the blueprints.”

“Exactly,” Rish replied.

II. JACKTHESTRIPPER — reading the psychology

Jack stared at the now-dead screen.

“Who waves at their victims?” they asked softly.

Shinsuke answered without hesitation.

“Someone who thinks they’re superior.”

Shev chimed in:

“Someone who thinks this is art.”

Jack nodded slowly.

“Someone who isn’t afraid.”

Nakammaru’s voice trembled:

“They know our names. They know our answers. They know our roles.”

Jack turned to him.

“Then stop thinking like prey.”

Nakammaru stiffened, trying — and failing — to straighten his spine.

Jack’s smile softened.

“We’re thieves. Not victims.”

But for the first time, even Jack didn’t sound fully convinced.

III. SHOGUNO89 — making the first demand

Shoguno stepped forward, towering over the group.

“Enough whispering,” he snapped.
“We need to move. We can’t all stay here — we’ll be sitting targets.”

Conqueror nodded.
“This killer is removing pieces from the board.”

Maher crossed his arms.
“They took Robin because he was alone.”

Shoguno’s gaze cut through the group.

“We don’t split again unless we choose the teams. No more wandering. No more accidents.”

Shev raised her hand.

“Um… we literally just split into groups and you just found a corpse. So… maybe groups are bad?”

Shoguno didn’t even look at her.

“Anyone alone dies.”

Nakammaru squeaked:
“Okay. I vote we all hold hands and walk in a circle.”

Shev elbowed him.
“Stay with me. I promise I’ll at least get your death at a good angle.”

Nakammaru somehow looked even paler.

IV. OYELAKI — a ghost in his own mission

While everyone argued, Oyelaki walked deeper into the archives.

Robin was dead.
But Robin had died in the East Wing.
Inside the room filled with documents Oyelaki had come here for.

He scanned the shelves silently.

Files.
Logs.
Customs forms.
Shipping manifests.

Nothing touched.
Nothing removed.

The killer didn’t care about Oyelaki’s secrets.

For a moment, relief washed over him —
followed by something uglier:

If the killer didn’t want the East Wing’s files…
then what were they hunting?

He turned back toward the group.

They hadn’t even noticed he’d wandered off again.

Good.

There were things he needed to find without witnesses.

V. AFODAVE — discovering the impossible

Afodave knelt beside Robin’s body again.

The thermal blade wound was perfect.
Too perfect.

He traced the scorch mark on the floor where the body had been dragged.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Afodave said quietly.

Asherbaby knelt beside him.

“What doesn’t?”

“This cut — it’s made by a blade that heats instantly. But look.”
He pointed at a small shimmer on the marble.
“This residue wasn’t burnt.”

Asher frowned.
“Meaning?”

“Meaning whoever used this technology did it without leaving heat damage. They controlled the temperature to the decimal.”

Asher sat back.
“That’s… not consumer-level tech.”

“No,” Afodave whispered.
“That’s black-ops tech.”

Lowkey froze.

“Which means,” Afodave continued, “we’re not up against a thief.”

He looked up at the others.

“We’re up against someone who’s done this before.”

VI. SHINSUKE — noticing movement first

A shadow shifted across the far wall.

Subtle.
Quiet.
Almost invisible.

But Shinsuke was the watcher.
The one who noticed things others didn’t.

She stiffened instantly.

“Someone’s here.”

Every head turned.

Behind a row of towering archive shelves, a faint scraping sound echoed—like a shoe against tile.

Maher growled.

Shoguno raised his flashlight.

Conqueror moved like a drawn blade.

Jack smiled faintly.

Shinsuke didn’t move.

“It’s not a guard,” she whispered.
“Guards make noise on purpose. This person is—”

The lights overhead flickered.

Static burst from the ceiling speaker.

A digital voice crackled to life:

“RUN.”

And then all the lights in the East Wing went out.

VII. COMPLETE DARKNESS

For a split second, the museum existed only in sound:

Maher’s breath
Shev’s stifled gasp
Nakammaru’s panicked choke
A soft footstep
A scraping metal whisper
A faint exhale not belonging to anyone

Then—

—a flash of white light carved through the hall.

Not from a flashlight.

From a blade.

A blade made of heat.

Someone swung in the darkness.

Someone close.

Someone dangerously close.

Afodave dove aside.
Asher grabbed Nakammaru by the collar and yanked him down.
Lowkey dropped flat.
Jack moved with fluid instinct.
Shoguno roared and swung his light toward the noise.

A silhouette dashed between the shelves — too fast, too silent.

The thermal blade’s afterglow etched a burning line in the darkness.

A second slash hit a support beam.
Metal hissed.
Sparks flew.

“Shev—MOVE!” Rish shouted.

A statue toppled behind her — crashing inches from her foot.

Nakammaru screamed.

VIII. THE SILENCE AFTER THE ATTACK

The lights snapped back on.

Everyone froze.

No killer.
No shadow.
Just heavy breathing and shaking hands.

But something worse replaced the terror:

absence.

Samy looked around frantically.

“Where’s Subzero?”

Lowkey’s blood ran cold.

Subzero was gone.

No body.
No blood.

Just gone.

Taken in the dark.

Jack whispered,
“Our killer doesn’t just stab.”

Maher clenched his fists.
“They kidnap too?”

Afodave corrected him softly.

“No. They removed him. Cleanly. Silently.”

Asherbaby’s jaw tensed.

Shoguno’s eyes burned.

Lowkey stared at the empty floor.

One dead.
One taken.

The masked thief wasn’t just hunting them.

They were collecting them.

The East Wing lights flickered back to life in a sickly, uneven glow, washing the archives in pale red pulses. The marble floor reflected the panic on every thief’s face.

Subzero was gone.

Not dead.
Not wounded.
Gone.

Like the thief before him, he had vanished without leaving a trace.

Only the faint scent of scorched air remained—
a ghost of the thermal blade.

And that terrified them more than the body they’d found.

I. THEONLYLOWKEY — when logic begins to crack

Lowkey stood frozen, staring at the exact spot where Subzero had been standing seconds ago.

“How—” he whispered.
“How do you remove a full-grown man silently in total blackout?”

Afodave swallowed.
“You don’t. Not without help.”

“Help from who?” Shev asked, inching closer to Rish.

Lowkey didn’t answer.

His mind was fracturing under the impossibility of it:

No footsteps.
No struggle.
No dragging.
No sound.
No visible tech.

Just darkness—

—and then Subzero was gone.

“Unless…” Lowkey whispered, eyes narrowing.
“…he walked away willingly.”

Nakammaru’s breath caught.

“You—you don’t think Subzero is working with them?”

Lowkey didn’t blink.

“I don’t know what’s impossible anymore.”

II. JACKTHESTRIPPER — reframing the kill pattern

Jack moved around the perimeter of the room, inspecting shattered stone and scorched metal like a curator analyzing a new exhibit.

“Two attacks,” Jack said.
“One done cleanly with a surgical cut.”
They pointed at Robin’s body.
“And one done with complete removal.”

Shev tilted her head.
“So two weapons?”

“Two methods,” Jack corrected.
“But one artist. Same signature.”

Maher growled.
“What signature?”

Jack tapped the scorch mark on the shelf:

“No wasted motion.
No chaos.
Perfect control.”

Jack smiled in that unsettling way that meant they were enjoying this far too much.

“We’re dealing with a ghost who wants an audience.”

Shinsuke exhaled sharply.

“They didn’t want Subzero dead. They wanted him silent.”

Jack nodded.

“Exactly.”

III. ASHERBABY — her patience finally breaks

Asherbaby rarely showed emotion.

But when she did—
it was lethal.

“This isn’t a thief,” she said quietly.
“This is a strategist.”

Afodave nodded.
“A strategist with black-ops tech and access to the museum’s internal systems.”

Asher narrowed her eyes.

“No. A strategist who read our forms.”

The room fell silent.

Shoguno frowned.
“What forms?”

“The sign-up questions,” Asher said.
“The ones we filled out before the event.”

Rish’s face drained of color.

“You think someone used our answers to target us?”

“Yes,” Asher replied.
“Look at the pattern.”

She pointed at Robin’s lifeless body.

“Robin was ‘watching and waiting.’ A passive threat. Someone who could witness things.”

She pointed at the empty spot where Subzero had stood.

“Subzero was a planner. Someone the killer wanted to remove early—before plans formed.”

Maher muttered,
“They’re thinning the board.”

Asherbaby nodded once.

“They’re pruning.”

IV. THE FIGHT NEARLY STARTS

Shoguno stepped forward, his anger boiling.

“So what—you’re telling me someone is killing us one by one based on our psychological profiles?”

“YES!” Nakammaru shrieked.
“That’s EXACTLY what’s happening!”

Shoguno ignored him and glared at Jack.

“You’re too calm. You knew someone was watching us. How?”

Jack shrugged.
“I pay attention.”

Conqueror stepped up beside Shoguno.

“Or you’re working with them.”

Jack’s smile sharpened.

“If I was working with them, you’d all be dead already.”

“Ooohhh,” Shev whispered, “that was very villain-coded.”

Rish stepped between them.

“Stop. Fighting each other is exactly what they want.”

Shoguno stepped back—
not because he was convinced,
but because he didn’t want to spill the first thief blood.

Not yet.

V. NAKAMMARU — the breakdown

Nakammaru stumbled away from the group, clutching his head.

“They’re picking us off,” he muttered. “One at a time. One at a time—like rats in a lab…”

Shinsuke placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Look at me.”

“I can’t,” he whispered.

“Look. At. Me.”

Slowly, Nakammaru lifted his eyes.

“You’re not prey,” Shinsuke said.
“You’re scared. That doesn’t make you useless.”

Nakammaru swallowed hard.

“What does it make me?”

Shinsuke’s voice softened.

“Predictable.”

He blinked.
She clarified:

“And predictable targets are the safest if they stick with the right person.”

Nakammaru nodded weakly.

Shinsuke did not let go of his shoulder.

VI. SAMY — the unseen detail

While the others argued, Samy stared at the shelves Robin had been inspecting before he died.

Something was wrong.

A single folder — out of thousands — was pushed further back.

Just a centimeter.

But in a museum archive, that was a scream.

He reached for it.

The moment his fingertips brushed the folder—

A soft metallic click sounded.

Samy froze.
Asherbaby snapped toward him.
“Don’t move.”

Her voice wasn’t loud.
But it was deadly sharp.

The others went silent.

Samy spoke without looking back.

“There’s a trigger wire attached.”

Afodave’s eyes widened.

“Trap?”

“More like a warning,” Samy whispered.

He slowly turned the folder outward just enough to read the label.

The words chilled him to the bone:

“THE SIXTEEN”

Inside was a single piece of paper.

Samy slid it free.

The handwriting was precise.
Elegant.
Cold.

It listed:

Robin — ELIMINATED
Subzero — REMOVED
And then…
15 more names.

Each thief.
Each alias.
Each fear.
Each preferred heist role.

A perfect psychological map.

Lowkey read over Samy’s shoulder and whispered:

“This is impossible.”

Jack’s voice cracked for the first time:

“Someone built a profile on all of us before we arrived.”

Nakammaru whimpered.

“So this isn’t a heist anymore.”

Samy finished the thought:

“It’s a hunt.”

The folder labeled “THE SIXTEEN” sat in Samy’s hands like a live explosive.

Fifteen thieves circled around him, their shadows long under the pulsing red lights. Robin’s body remained on the floor. Subzero remained missing. And the killer — the masked figure — now felt closer than breath.

The Dominion Museum was no longer a lockdown.

It was a diagram.

A map.

A maze designed for sixteen very specific minds.

And now two of those minds were gone.

The others began to understand:
the killer wasn’t improvising.
The killer wasn’t reacting.
The killer was executing a plan they built weeks ago.

I. THEONLYLOWKEY — when the data becomes devastating

Lowkey took the folder from Samy’s hands and flipped through the pages.

Each thief had a profile:

Their alias
Their real name
Their fears
Their heist role
Their moral breaking points
Their most dangerous quality

Everything from the sign-up questions.
Everything from their tells.
Everything the killer couldn’t have known…

…unless the killer was one of them.

Lowkey’s heart went cold.

“This isn’t an external attack,” he whispered.
“This is an infiltration.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed.
“Inside job?”

Lowkey nodded once.

“Someone walked in here with us.”

II. JACKTHESTRIPPER — playing devil’s advocate

“Let’s assume the killer IS one of us,” Jack began, sliding their hands into their pockets with slow amusement.

Rish frowned.
“You don’t sound surprised.”

Jack shrugged.
“We’re thieves. Manipulators. Every one of us lies for a living. Why is everyone acting shocked that a murderer slipped into the guest list?”

Nakammaru trembled.
“Because I DIDN’T SIGN UP TO DIE!”

Shev patted his shoulder.
“Don’t worry. If you die, I’ll make it cinematic.”

Nakammaru made a faint choking noise that might’ve been a sob.

Jack continued:

“If the killer is one of us, they would need privacy. Opportunities. Weak links.”

Their eyes drifted—
first to Rish,
then to Oyelaki,
then to Afodave,
and finally to Asherbaby.

Asher stared back with ice in her veins.

“Careful,” she whispered.

Jack smiled softly.

“Just considering the options.”

III. OYELAKI — a discovery in the archives

Oyelaki ignored them.

He kept searching the shelves, running his fingers along row after row of documents until one file caught his attention.

A single binder slightly pulled forward.
Barely noticeable.

He opened it.

Inside were photos of the entire museum staff — headshots, access cards, schedules.

But something stood out:

One face was circled in red ink.

A woman with dark hair and blank eyes.
Underneath her picture:

“EMPLOYEE TERMINATED — SIX MONTHS AGO.”

Rish stepped beside him.

“What did you find?”

Oyelaki turned the binder around.

Rish’s eyes went glassy.

“That’s… that’s the curator’s assistant.”

Oyelaki nodded.

“A ghost employee.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning someone with access who was erased quietly.”

Rish swallowed hard.

“That woman—she was fired for stealing museum data.”

Oyelaki closed the binder.

“Then she didn’t steal data.”

He looked at Robin’s body.

“She was collecting data.”

IV. SHOGUNO89 — pushing toward conflict

Shoguno couldn’t stand silence.

“Enough games,” he growled.
“We’re wasting time in this tomb. If someone is killing us based on some psychological plan, we move NOW.”

Maher nodded.
“We hunt whoever was in the ceiling.”

Conqueror’s voice was ice.
“Or we force the killer to reveal themselves.”

Jack laughed.
“Oh, please. And how exactly would you do that? Beat the confession out of all of us?”

Shoguno didn’t smile.

“Yes.”

Nakammaru squealed.
“No violence! PLEASE no violence!”

Shoguno stepped toward him.

Nakammaru backed up and hit a shelf.

Shinsuke appeared at his side instantly, blocking Shoguno’s path.

“Walk away,” she warned.

Shoguno glared at her.

“Move.”

“No.”

Their standoff crackled like a live wire.

For a moment, everyone believed Shoguno would swing.

But Asherbaby stepped between them like a blade sliding quietly into place.

“No one swings unless it’s at the killer,” she said softly.

And Shoguno, for the first time tonight, hesitated.

V. AFODAVE — seeing the unseen pattern

Afodave knelt beside the archive room’s far wall.

Something itched at the back of his mind.

The thermal residue on the floor—
the scorch marks—
Subzero’s disappearance—
Robin’s clean wound—

None of it matched an amateur killer.

None of it matched a typical thief.

It matched something else.

A pattern.

A methodology.

A cadence of stalking.

He examined the wall’s surface with his fingers.

Smooth.
Cold.
Undisturbed.

Then he saw it.

The faintest indentation.
A square.
A perfect flush panel.

He knocked once.

Solid.

He knocked twice.

Hollow.

His eyes widened.

“Everyone—back up.”

Lowkey rushed over.
“What is it?”

“A hidden door.”

Rish inhaled sharply.
“Hidden doors don’t exist in modern museums.”

Afodave laughed once under his breath.

“This one does.”

He slid his fingers into the seam and pulled.

A panel in the wall opened silently—

revealing a narrow corridor descending into complete darkness.

Nakammaru whispered:

“No… no, no, NO… not the creepy murder tunnel…”

Shev whispered:

“Yes… yes, YES… the creepy murder tunnel…”

Jack smiled.
“Ladies and gentlemen… we have a killer’s access route.”

VI. THE MASK RETURNS

A soft electronic chime echoed again.

Everyone froze.

At the end of the newly revealed tunnel—

a figure stood.

Mask gleaming under the emergency lights.

Same stance.
Same tilt of the head.
Same unnerving stillness.

The Masked Thief.

They lifted a single finger—

and pointed directly at the group.

Then pointed down the tunnel.

Shev whispered:

“Are they… inviting us?”

Jack whispered:

“They’re daring us.”

Maher whispered:

“They’re mocking us.”

Nakammaru whispered:

“They’re going to KILL us—”

Then the figure did something new.

They tapped the side of their mask twice.

The lights flickered violently.

And the voice returned through the speakers:

“IF YOU WANT THE TRUTH… FOLLOW ME.”

The masked figure stepped backward—

and the door slammed shut.

Leaving the thieves with nothing but their fear.
And a choice.

The hidden door slammed shut with the finality of a judge’s gavel.

Fifteen thieves stood frozen in the archives, breath held, eyes transfixed on the sealed panel where the masked figure had vanished. The emergency lights pulsed, casting red across their faces like splashes of blood.

The masked killer had spoken.
Invited them.
Dared them.

“IF YOU WANT THE TRUTH… FOLLOW ME.”

And now the museum waited.

Silent.
Breathing.
Alive.

I. THEONLYLOWKEY — the decision that breaks him

Lowkey stared at the shut door, mind racing.

“We can’t follow them,” he whispered.

Jack arched an eyebrow.
“Why not? Afraid of the dark?”

“No,” Lowkey snapped. “I’m afraid of walking into a murder machine designed specifically for us.”

He pointed at the folder labeled “THE SIXTEEN.”

“They know us. They know every fear, every weakness. That tunnel will be filled with traps tailored to our psych profiles.”

Asherbaby narrowed her eyes.
“You think they built an entire kill-path underground?”

Lowkey swallowed.

“Yes.”

Shev grinned.
“Okay, but like… what if it’s cinematic?”

Nakammaru sobbed.
“I HATE THIS MUSEUM.”

II. JACKTHESTRIPPER — embracing the challenge

Jack stepped closer to the sealed panel, running a finger along the carved edges.

“You all keep thinking like prey,” they murmured. “But the killer isn’t inviting us into a death trap.”

Rish frowned.
“What makes you so sure?”

“Because they waved at us,” Jack replied.
“They want an audience. They want witnesses. They want a game.”

Conqueror stepped forward.
“And you’re volunteering to play?”

Jack smiled faintly.
“I always play.”

Maher rolled his shoulders.
“Then we go together. Strength in numbers.”

“No,” Jack corrected.
“Strength in intention.”

Asherbaby crossed her arms.
“Meaning?”

Jack met her gaze.

“Some of us go. Some of us stay. That’s how the killer loses track of the board.”

III. OYELAKI — another ghost in the dark

While the others argued, Oyelaki approached the door quietly.

He placed a hand on the cold metal.

“This wasn’t built by the museum,” he said softly.

“Really?” Rish asked.

Oyelaki nodded.
“The panel edges were cut from the inside—someone spent months carving this into the structure.”

“Why?” Nakammaru whimpered.

“Because this isn’t a tunnel,” Oyelaki replied.
“It’s an escape route. A private system.”

Maher frowned.
“For staff?”

“No,” Oyelaki said.
“For someone who wanted to move through the museum unseen.”

His voice lowered.

“Our killer didn’t just infiltrate the museum.”

He looked at the others.

“They lived here.”

IV. RISH — recognizing the pattern

Rish studied the archives again.

Robin dead.
Subzero missing.
Hidden corridors.
A former employee erased.
Profiles on all sixteen thieves.

He thought of puzzle boxes, escape rooms, logic traps.

“This isn’t about killing us,” Rish whispered.

Jack turned.
“Oh? Do explain.”

“It’s about the story,” Rish said.

Shev gasped dramatically.
“I KNEW IT!”

Rish continued:

“Robin was a watcher. He saw something.”
“Subzero was a planner. He could’ve unraveled the blueprint.”
“Both were removed early.”

Conqueror’s eyes narrowed.

“Meaning the killer has a structure.”

“Yes,” Rish said.
“A narrative.”

Jack tilted their head.

“A… chapter system?”

Rish nodded.

“And we just entered Chapter 3. The threshold. The point of no return.”

V. SHOGUNO89 — breaking the tension with force

Shoguno had enough.

“I don’t care about the killer’s narrative. I care about the fact that they took one of us.”

He slammed his shoulder into the hidden door.
Metal boomed, echoing like a cannon.

“Shoguno—STOP!” Samy warned.

“NO.”

Shoguno hit the door again.

And on the third strike—

click

A lock disengaged.

The panel slid open one inch.

Just one.

A whisper of cold air seeped through, brushing past them like a hand on the spine.

Nakammaru screamed.

Shev whispered, thrilled:
“It opened for HIM.”

VI. SAMY — noticing what no one else did

Everyone stared at the door.

But Samy stared at the floor.

A tiny line of dust had been disturbed—
a fresh footprint.

Small.
Light.
Precise.

Not Shoguno’s.
Not Maher’s.
Not any of the thieves’.

Someone had passed through less than a minute ago.

He knelt, touching the print.

“No hesitation,” he whispered.
“No weight shift. No fear.”

He rose.

“This wasn’t a clue.”

“What was it?” Shinsuke asked.

Samy swallowed.

“A breadcrumb.”

VII. ASHERBABY — the choice

Asherbaby stepped to the threshold.

“We go in,” she said.
“Because the longer we wait, the more they prepare.”

Lowkey grabbed her wrist.

“No. We plan first.”

She stared him down.

“If we plan, someone else will die.”

Lowkey’s hand trembled.

He wasn’t wrong.
Neither was she.

Then Asher looked at each thief.

“We take five.”

Five thieves.
Five roles.

A planner (Lowkey)
A fighter (Shoguno)
A watcher (Shinsuke)
A technician (Afodave)
A hunter (Asher herself)

Jack’s eyes lit up.

“Oh, delicious. A dungeon party.”

Nakammaru fainted.

VIII. THE DOOR DECIDES FOR THEM

Before anyone else could argue—

the hidden door slid open an extra six inches on its own.

Lights flickered.
Air turned frigid.

The masked voice whispered again through the speaker system:

“CHOOSE.”

Maher stepped forward.

“Everyone step back.”

But Samy shook his head.

“No. This is a selection event.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Shev asked.

Samy exhaled.

“It means the killer has already decided who they WANT to enter.”

As if on cue—

Five panels on the wall lit up with names:

ASHERBABY
SHOGUNO
AFODAVE
SAMY
JACKTHESTRIPPER

Jack blinked.

“Oh. They did choose me.”

Shoguno cracked his neck.
“Finally.”

Asherbaby stepped forward without fear.

Afodave took a quiet breath and joined her.

Samy clenched his jaw and nodded.

And Jack…
simply smiled.

Lowkey’s voice broke:

“This is insane. They’re splitting us again.”

Asher placed a hand on his shoulder.

“No. This time the killer is choosing the team.”

She turned toward the darkness of the tunnel.

“And we’re going to make them regret it.”

IX. THE DESCENT

The five chosen thieves stepped toward the hidden passage.

Red lights reflected in their eyes.
The museum hummed with trapped energy.
The door yawned open like the mouth of a beast.

They crossed the threshold—

Jack last, glancing back once with a smirk:

“If I die, Shev, make sure my death looks fabulous.”

Shev saluted.
“You got it.”

Then the panel slid shut behind them.

Hard.
Loud.
Irreversible.

The remaining ten stood in silence.