Far away.
Rony's apartment felt smaller than usual. Screens open. Cables everywhere. The city hummed faintly through the windows.
Rony rolled his chair back. "Okay. Where do we drop it?"
DJ sat on the edge of the table, helmet off, elbows on knees. Didn't look up.
"What about your old friend?" Rony said.
"Ragahv does has some reach there."
The DJ glanced down at him, not amused, tad bit annoyed.
"Why are you making jokes right now?"
Rony sighed, hands already moving. "Fine. My bad. No nostalgia."
A new account popped up on his screen.
Burner. Clean.
He typed fast. "Krish's ex. She can handle it."
Dj frowned. "The one that looked—"
"—like our physics and chemistry teacher," Rony finished.
Dj let out a breath through his nose. A tiny nod.
" Yeah."
Rony hovered over the upload. Cursor blinking. Proofs lined up. Clean. Solid.
His phone buzzed.
He froze.
Dj noticed instantly. "What."
Rony didn't answer. Just turned the screen.
Breaking News.
Another body.
Disaster Zone.
Same burns.
Both of them stared.
Rony tapped the video. The anchor talked like it was just another night, talking in detailes about DJ's new exploites that he hasn't done again.
"You've got another murder on your head," Rony said, almost to himself.
" We left him alive. Even the toxin was fake, maybe he has an allergy from the candy I gave him."
Dj shook his head slowly. "They killed him. Now our proof proves nothing."
Rony turned. "What? What you mean. We recorded it."
Dj looked at him. Eyes sharp. "We recorded it."
Rony's mouth opened. Closed.
"They'll say it's fake," Dj continued. "AI. Deepfake. Whatever fits. Same with everything else."
"That's not—" Rony stopped. His shoulders dropped. "We can call Supriya, she will believe it. She can do it."
Dj was already walking away.
The door slammed behind him.
Outside hit harder, no comfort at all. Noise. Smoke. People arguing over nothing. DJ wrinkled his nose, then forced his face straight.
He took the stairs. "Guy can build a laser," he muttered, "can't fix a damn elevator."
Downstairs, a kid was sitting on his bike, revving it like it was a toy.
" Oyyy move " Dj snapped.
The kid laughed.
Dj shoved him aside. "Get lost."
He sat on the bike, hands heavy on the handle.
Then he saw her.
Natalie, his pristine maid.
Regular clothes. No uniform. No neat bun. Just… her, plan? If. That was possible.
"What's she doing here," he muttered.
He drove closer. Slower.
She came out of an apartment block. Same cheap layout Rony lived in.
Dj raised an eyebrow, rolled the bike near her.
"Nat."
She turned. Froze. Then straightened. "Sir."
He didn't say anything.
A few minutes later, they were on the bike together. Wind loud. Silence louder.
Her place was close to Paradise, but worlds apart. Narrow lanes. Dim lights. Apartment stacked like tired bones. A place built for staff and servants.
He stopped.
"Thank you sir," she said, getting off. "For dropping me."
"Yeah."
She avoided his eyes.
"If you don't mind," Dj said, voice low, "what were you doing that far this late."
She paused.
"My father."
"Oh."
Silence again. Thick. Awkward.
She tried to fill it. "What about you, sir?"
"My friend."
She nodded, stepping back.
Dj watched her turn.
"He beats you," he said.
She stopped.
The slap mark she'd hidden throbbed under her skin.
"No, sir."
And she walked away.
DJ stayed there a second longer than he meant to. Then kicked the stand and rode off.
DJ soon reached his parking lot, and it was quiet. Too quiet.
DJ rolled in, killed the engine, let the bike tick itself cool. Shutting of the engine echoed and bounced off concrete. No guards. No drunk neighbors. No stray dogs fighting over trash.
Nothing wrong.
Still—something crawled up his spine.
He took his helmet off, glanced once around, then started walking.
A black car slid in front of him, smooth, silent.
Brakes whispered. It stopped just short enough to block his path.
Dj stopped too.
Didn't flinch.
He turned, about to head the other way, when the car door opened.
Glass clinked softly. And he knows the person sitting inside.
Roy Singhania sat inside like he owned the night. One leg crossed. A drink in hand. Ice barely melted.
DJ froze.
He scanned the lot again. Empty.
Looked back.
Next to Roy sat a broad man. Short hair. Thick neck. Gun resting casually on his thigh. Not aimed. Didn't need to be.
"Sit," the man said.
DJ exhaled through his nose. A half shrug. He weighs his pros and cons, and slid into the seat opposite them.
The door shut.
The car moved.
No music. No rush. Just the city sliding past tinted glass.
Roy studied him like a painting. Dj stared back, unblinking.
After a beat, Roy smiled. "So. We finally met. Devesh Joshi."
"I'm Roy Singhania," he continued lightly. "Founder and CEO of Horseman and Co. You've probably heard of us. Just like I've heard of… you..DJ." A pause. "Cute name. For a little hobby of yous."
Silence.
Roy tilted his head, actually looking at him now. "You're not scared."
Then a nod, like he'd answered his own question. "Fair. A man who tries to fight an alligator in water shouldn't be."
He leaned back. "Tell me. What did you learn from that alligator?"
Nothing.
Roy's smile thinned for a second. Then he kept going.
"Past few weeks? Was a mess. Meetings. Deals. Seminars. People I don't like. Stress I don't need." He rubbed his temple. " Than there is that elixir or what you call it the Pullwater. We thought we were running out till we found the second vein. And can't forgot, there's money moving around. Big money. It messes with your sleep."
He sighed. "And terrible partners." A pause.
"No disrespect to the dead." A quick sign of the cross. "Let's say… less intelligent partners. One of them even tried selling humanity's greatest gift to idiots who in every chance literally blow themselves up."
And he shrugs. "Kids."
DJ's eyes didn't changed, he remained emotionless, staring at his face.
"It was hard finding you," Roy went on. "A man using my tech shoots one partner. Interesting, but manageable. Maybe he sold that stuff like he sold elixir. Then the second one." He glanced sideways. "That's when things clicked, it becomes interesting. Especially when you asked about Sakshi Mehra."
Dj's eyes flickered.
Roy caught it. Smiled wider. "All this for a girl you knew what, a month?"
He saw the look change and waved it off.
"Sorry. Love is love I guess."
He leaned forward. "I checked timelines. Events and people. Your name popped up. Samir was looking for a masked guy, who we blamed, cause it was convenient, for some reason, while a pile of elixir was missing in my inventory. Funny, right? Then Gaurav comes to me. Nervous. Sweaty. Talking about a masked man asking questions."
Roy clasped his hands. "So I asked myself—who wants us dead? A brother? A father?" He tilted his head. "Or a lover."
He pointed. "You."
"You hit Samir in a bar. Day after she died. Drunk. Emotional. Seven bodyguards." A soft clap. "Impulsive. But effective."
He waved a hand. "You killed Samir. Fine. He probably deserved it. But Gaurav! He was really useful, you know! But, Let's move on."
Dj's breathing got heavier.
"The pullwater," Roy continued, tone shifting, sharper now. "We spent billions. Got crumbs. You?" He looked impressed. "A few barrels. Few week. And suddenly you're building miracles my labs can't, my people can't. A tech far ahead of mine."
He leaned in close. "Who's helping you?" he asked again.
Silence followed again. Roy didn't like his silence.
Roy's eyes changed, his real self showing just for a moment.
He reached into his coat, pulled out a checkbook. Scribbled. Tore the page.
Held it out.
"One hundred and one million. Swiss." A small smile. "More than the rumor. Isn't what you wanted first. Just tell me the name. Walk away rich. Safe. My words."
Dj looked at the check.
Then at Roy, and said a sharp.
"No."
The word landed flat. Calm.
The hand holding the check froze midair.
Roy's face twitched, his mask crumbled.
Then his fist came out of nowhere.
Dj tried to move. Couldn't. Space too tight.
Another punch. And another.
Roy didn't shout. Didn't rant. Just hit until his knuckles hurt.
He sat back, breathing hard, and kicked Dj once more for good measure.
"Low-life scum," he spat. "You think you're worth rejecting me?"
" Who do you think you are? You petty thief."
He straightened his tie. "I was being generous."
A hand went out the window.
"You're the second person to reject my kindness recently," Roy said quietly. "The first was your girlfriend."
Dj's head snapped up.
"I warned her. It's an adult's world, don't meddle in it. But no. I told her, don't fly too close to the sun. But she still did. Coming to mine with cameras to film, where the water from the gutter is going." A thin smile. "Kids never listen. Do they not hear stories nowadays?"
Roy's voice dropped. "Let me tell you the story I told her."
He recited it slowly.
" In Greek myths, there was a father-son duo, imprisoned in the high hills of Mount Olympus, surrounded by cliffs and valleys. The father, being a master craftsman, crafted two pairs of wings made out of wax, so that they could fly away from there. After creating the wings, the father warned the son. Do not fly too close to the sun or the wings will melt. The son being rebellious, didn't listen, he in his passion to see the son went higher and higher. Soon he can see the sun clearly and closely. He was happy. But soon, his joy vanished. Wax melted and he fell to his death."
"Moral?" He leaned closer. "Know your place. And don't overestimate yourself. You are just as useless as the rest."
The car stopped in a narrow alley.
John stepped out first.
Roy lit another cigarette. Dj stared at him through blood and sweat.
Roy offered it.
Dj took it. Hands shaking.
As the flame caught, DJ muttered, "I've heard a story too."