Devesh sat on the edge of a half-broken rooftop, flicking his lighter a couple times before his cigarette finally caught. Smoke drifted up as he looked down at the city spread under him, lights buzzing through the haze. He let out a long sigh.
He opened the thin folder Carry had given him and flipped through the second file. Photos. Guard placements. Building layouts. He pulled out his tiny laptop, balanced it on his knee, and typed in the location. A map popped up—old Mumbai. The part was destroyed during the Krrish vs Carl battle. He raised his eyebrows but kept scrolling. Not much public info. No surprise.
He uploaded a few datasets, scanned for nearby cameras, cross-checked power lines, drew some markings, then closed his laptop with a soft click. He headed down the iron steps to his hidden workspace.
Inside the small basement room, he changed into his thief gear—black T-shirt, belt, reinforced pants, light armor plates. He stuffed his tools into his backpack, scanned the helmets on the shelf, grabbed one, and pulled it on.
He drove out of the city, following old highway lines until buildings thinned. The road eventually turned into a broken, overgrown strip. When he reached a cluster of ruined structures, he parked his bike behind a patch of thick bushes and piled some branches over it. A tall concrete wall circled the whole abandoned zone.
He slipped inside through a collapsed section. The place looked like a ghost city—half-destroyed buildings, twisted signs, broken streetlights.
"What is this place?" he muttered.
He tapped the side of his mask. Night vision kicked in with a soft buzz.
His phone rang. That same GTA theme. Same caller.
"Hello," he said.
"Your readings show you're in a disaster zone," Rony said. "Any reason you're wandering around a graveyard?"
"A graveyard? What did you mean?"
" Do you live under a brick? The whole Krrish, Carl and Dr Arya thing? It was everywhere. They tore that part of the city apart. Half the buildings got flattened. A lot of people died that day."
Devesh stayed quiet while Rony paused.
"No one knows exactly what happened to Carl there," Rony went on. "Some think Krrish killed him. Some think he buried him somewhere in that zone."
"Wasn't it supposed to be far away?"
"Their fight didn't stick to one place."
"Any reason why they didn't rebuild all this?" Devesh asked.
"You know the gravity field, right?"
"Yeah… saw some videos online. On a blocked site. Thought they were CGI."
"They're real. Most of it, anyway." Rony tapped something on his end; Devesh heard faint beeps. "I'm adjusting your signal so you won't get flagged. You're close to the Gravity Zone. And very close to the Crater Zone. Turn on the function on the right."
Devesh pressed the button.
"Nothing happens."
"That's because the gravity there is normal. The scanner's reading it. I built it to check if an area is walkable."
DJ didn't ask further. He kept walking.
"So what are you doing there anyway?" Rony asked.
"Nothing. Got a job. Just came to see if it's worth my time."
"Really? What job? Finding Carl's body? People have tried."
"Not that. There's a warehouse or factory nearby. I'm checking that."
Rony hummed.
Devesh pushed through a broken walkway and stepped into what used to be a garden. A giant half-destroyed Krrish statue leaned over the space, cracked through the chest. Rain started—soft at first, then heavy enough to drown footsteps.
His red mask lenses glowed faintly, lighting up the mist around him. He reached the edge of a massive drop and looked down.
"Welcome to the Crater Zone," Rony said in his ear. "Imagine fighting the guy who made that hole."
"Even for a billion dollars, I wouldn't."
"What if he shows up in front of you?"
"I'll surrender."
"What if he came to kill?"
"I'll consider myself dead."
Behind him, rain washed over the carved-out scar in the earth—a giant crater big enough to look nuclear. Water pooled at the bottom like a forming lake.
"That's why we need a better hero than him," Rony muttered. "Just look at the destruction."
"You're still on that hero crap? Fastest way to die," DJ said, shaking his head.
Rony chuckled. "Once I finish my suit, even Krrish will have a hard time."
"Keep dreaming. You don't have the funds, materials, or power. And even if you built it—you're not Tony Stark. And I'm not Bruce Wayne. Who's using it?"
"You. That's what we decided. You become the Robin Hood, and I'm your Robin. Think about it—we save lives, no superpowers, and more consistent than some timely-rain guy."
DJ rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I'm reaching the factory. Give me the info."
He followed a cracked road until a faded structure came into view—a small factory.
"What kind of factory is this?" he asked.
"It's a rice mill. Where they process wheat."
"What? Why in the city?"
"You skipped social studies too, right?" Rony sighed. "It's an old government rice mill from Indira Gandhi's time. After the '90s they closed most of them. There were movements—technology boosts in honey, flowers, fruits, spices—business revolutions—"
"Cut to the point."
"Okay, okay. Looks like they've set up electric fences everywhere. You know the CCTV locations, right?"
"Yes."
"I'm sensing more. Drop the drone."
DJ unzipped his backpack and took out the square remote drone—the same one that punctured Sakshi's scooty. He tossed it up and it hovered, flying forward.
"Turning on sonar," Rony said. The screen switched to blue outlines.
"We should add the new 3D device to sonar," Rony muttered. "But we need to compact it first."
"Then add microchips, ICs, software…" he kept mumbling.
The sonar feed showed something scattered across the ground.
"Are those landmines?" Devesh asked.
"No. Worse. Electric. Somehow."
"What do you mean 'somehow'?"
"They're not wired. No connections."
"Tesla based?" Devesh guessed.
"No. I'd see electric waves. I need one up close. The power output is insane. Step on it and you'll get the shock of your life. Grab one for me. I'm landing the drone on the roof."
"Stay away from the snipers. One's above you."
"I know."
The drone landed quietly. DJ crouched, watching guard movements.
"They've closed every window and entrance," he said.
"I see it. Drilling won't work. There's a 3mm steel plate. That's Swiss-bank level security."
"What's inside?"
Rony ignored him. "Any other way to see inside?"
"Front door."
"I meant a way that doesn't get you shot."
DJ studied the perimeter. "No tall buildings. No trees. Electro mines everywhere. The deactivation remote is with the guy at the door. Guards are manageable. The seventh guy might be in trouble. Mines have their own power supply, so EMP won't work. The bike EMP only jams CCTV within a mile. After tweaks, we can jam their backup signal too."
"Sounds like a plan… but something's missing," Rony said.
"And what's that?"
"We don't know the backup timing. Or inside manpower. Or firepower. We need a strong soft gun—blackout darts. One hit, they go down. We'll set traps for reinforcements. You fight in. I opened the locker."
"So there is a locker," DJ said looking at the sonar of the building."What's inside?"
"Money," he answered casually.
"How much?"
"Around a hundred million… franc."
Rony choked so hard he nearly slipped off his chair.
"You're kidding, right? A hundred million franc? That's… that's like 910 crores rupees! Even after laundering—850! And how do we even move that? Ten thousand kilos! We need ten men and an hour. Reinforcements will arrive!"
"What about flying off with the safe?"
"This isn't Fast & Furious… but not a bad idea."
"Using guards to load?"
"Too risky."
"A forklift?"
"…That could work. But why are we thinking like we're actually doing this? Even if we grab it, we're dead before spending it."
"I'm sure about that," DJ said quietly.
"Any ideas?"
"Hypothetically," DJ added, and Rony stopped complaining.
"Most possible option? Come back. We'll think later. Oh—and grab that bomb for me."
"You said that a thousand times. I want to see what happens with a small EMP."
"Maybe. But there's no cover. They cleared everything."
"No wonder people turned this job down."
"No doubt. Horsemans have top-notch security."
"Can we go there as security check?"
"No chance," Rony said. Then his monitor beeped. "Hey—left sniper is moving down. We have a window. Go. Now."
DJ hesitated, just a second.
Rony laughed softly. "Relax. What's the worst? Two or three bullets?"
DJ sighed and moved.
He reached the fence near a chimney vent. Took out a wire cutter.
"Right corner—closest mine. I jammed the camera for two minutes. Hurry."
DJ cut a small opening, slipped his arm through. The EMP failed. He muttered a curse. As he started pulling back, Rony stopped him.
"Wait. Power's down, but the core still shows on sensors. It's safe. Grab it."
DJ slid his hand along the ground until he felt a bump. He tapped a switch—his glove magnet activated. The dirt shifted upward, revealing part of the device.
"Careful. It's deactivated but still dangerous," Rony warned.
DJ gently lifted it out. A round disc with a glowing blue tube in the center.
"What's that glowing blue thing?" Rony asked.
"Guard coming. Move," he said quickly.
DJ shoved dirt back, backed away, then examined the mine. A strange energy tube pulsed faintly.
"Some kind of fuel? Maybe plasma?" he guessed.
"I need to see it up close. Bring it back ASAP."
DJ attached a small cable—data streamed to Rony's second monitor instantly.
"This thing is the second most advanced tech I've seen," Rony muttered.
"Who's the first one?"
"Me, obviously. Nobody builds better tech."
The call cut.
DJ stuffed the mine in his backpack, climbed a broken wall, and parkoured his way out while the drone followed from above.
He kept moving, vaulting over pipes and ledges until he reached a three-story building. He stopped on the edge, breathing lightly, eyes narrowing at the mess happening below. Before he could lean in, every gadget on him glitched at once—his drone dropped out of the sky like a stone, his mask flickered hard, night-vision cut out, and a sharp static hiss filled his ears.
"Great… what now?" he muttered, ripping the mask off.
He checked the electric screen on his wrist. Dead. Drone: also dead. His phone wouldn't even vibrate. Everything around him felt muted.
He blinked. "Okay, that's… bad."
He tapped each device again just to be sure, but nothing responded. The idea clicked in his mind—someone nearby was running an EMP far stronger than his.
And right as he processed that, a shout rose from the street.
He crouched. Five cars—two black, three white—boxed each other in. Dozens of men in mismatched guns and outfits argued in three different accents.
" Are those terrorists?" He thinks seeing their weird clothes, he couldn't understand what they were saying, but he could make out that they were arguing about something. And then the man in black suits took out small cylindrical things, and then another party, who were middle Eastern type clothes, took out two big travel bags, definitely filled with money.
Those cylinders were glowing blue as well. Same as that landmine.
" That is definitely one. Whatever was that blue tube, wasn't normal."
He leaned forward—then froze.
A man in a blue costume flew in from the left and smashed into the middle of the deal. No warning, no landing, just full-speed impact. Guns came out instantly and everyone fired, but the bullets bounced off like cheap plastic toys. DJ's jaw literally dropped when the blue suit guy punched one man across the street and into a wall.
"What the—" DJ whispered, his brain just… lagging.
The blue man wiped the floor with all of them, tossed a few cars aside, and chased the survivors who tried to run.
DJ stared at the scene, breath stuck. "What the hell just happened?"
Whoever that blue-suit guy was, he wasn't Krrish. And yet—he fought like he was built in a lab.
He looked at the knocked-out dealers, then at the open bags of money, then at the glowing cylinder.
His brain supplied one simple, stupid thought.
…money.
He moved before he could rethink it. Parkoured down the building fast, landing near the groaning men. Most of them were rolling around or half-conscious. He grabbed the cylinder first, then stepped toward the bags.
A voice croaked behind him. "H-hey—don't steal that!"
DJ turned. A guy in a tailored three-piece suit lay on the ground, a loose strand of hair stuck to his sweaty forehead. DJ stared at him for half a second… then ignored him and grabbed the bags.
"Hey! You're gonna regret that!" the man yelled, sounding like he wanted to stand but couldn't lift his shoulder.
DJ didn't bother responding. He walked off with both heavy bags and the cylinder.