Darkness pressed against the walls like a living thing.
Only the faint sound of footsteps echoed… slow, deliberate, coming closer.
> "Turn on the light… someone, please,"
a weak voice drifted through the void.
The bulb flickered to life. Six or seven figures appeared — suits, polished shoes, calm faces that looked almost corporate.
But their eyes gleamed with something violent.
Their shadows stretched long across the floor as a masked figure stepped forward.
Before anyone spoke, the figure grabbed the man tied to a chair and slammed a fist into his face.
Blood hit the floor.
> "One… two… three… four… I can't… I'm scared…"
someone whispered from within the man's haze.
His eyes snapped open. Cuffs. Pain. The metallic taste of blood.
The masked figure tilted their head.
> "Ah… you woke up, Muna. Nice and easy?"
Chetan Morya squinted, dazed.
> "Damn… what should I even say?"
Another strike. His chair rattled.
> "Who are you?"
His voice cracked. Blood dripped from his nose.
"Why are you acting like some Indian mother? Are you insane?"
The gunman chuckled, almost amused.
> "Take this. Wipe it off before it floods."
Chetan wiped his face and muttered,
> "You didn't even check that thing… it stinks."
> "Why are you thinking so much?" came the calm reply.
"Forget it. Who are you?"
Another blow.
> "Chetan Morya. Twenty-eight. Unmarried. P.T. teacher. Mipubha School, Mumbai."
Someone snickered.
> "Wait—are you a girl? You've got hair like a heroine."
A sudden kick sent the joker flying.
> "Pick him up," a cold voice ordered.
Two men lifted Chetan from the chair.
He groaned.
> "Stop the drama, this isn't some movie scene…"
> "Throw him in the room near Gater,"
the leader said flatly.
> "It stinks in there… I'm scared. Give me medicine!"
Chetan protested.
A needle pricked his neck. The world dissolved into blur and silence.
---
Scene Shift
"Where is Chetan Morya, the P.T. teacher?"
The question hung in a bright school corridor.
Miss Anaya Varma, the music teacher, blinked nervously.
> "Sir… I don't know. He just disappeared."
> "Find him," the principal snapped.
"If Chetan isn't here, we lose the post."
> "But sir, he worked hard for—"
> "Enough. He'll find another job. Get moving."
The bell rang. The camera pulled away from the school gates as the city's hum drowned their voices.
---
Scene Shift – The Hidden Room
A single bulb flickered inside a concrete room.
The masked figure sat on a worn-out sofa, steam rising from a cup of noodles on the table beside a pile of files and weapons.
Rain tapped against barred windows.
Cigarette smoke curled around her porcelain-white fox mask, painted with thin red streaks that looked like dried blood.
She removed it slowly — revealing a young woman, her eyes sharp, her smile faint and cold.
She opened a file marked Kabir Roy.
A DNA chart glowed faintly on the page.
> "Changing your name doesn't change the truth…"
she whispered, slurping noodles.
DNA Match:
Kabir Roy = Chetan Morya
---
Scene Shift – Inside the Cell
Metal chair.
Head pounding.
Darkness humming.
Chetan's eyes fluttered open. His wrists ached. The cuffs were still there.
> "This… this isn't a movie set."
He tugged at the restraints. They rattled.
He forced himself up, staggering.
> "I have to get to school… or I'll lose my job."
Then he saw her — the music teacher.
His thoughts twisted.
> "Damn… she's hot."
He kicked the chair.
"Hey! Let me out of here!"
Inside, he muttered,
> I can't die a virgin, man…
A voice echoed from the dark.
> "Calm down. Why are you shouting?"
Chetan froze.
The darkness trembled.
From a distant corner, another voice growled, tired and bitter —
> "Shut up, man… let me sleep."
He swallowed hard.
> "Alright, fine… but what is this place? Why does it smell like death?"
The unseen man replied, slow and heavy —
> "This isn't a jail…
and this place…"
The words faded into the dark.
To be continued…
---