A/N: Okay, I'm finally back with another chapter. I apologize for the exhausting time I took to upload this. My days have been quite uneventful starting from zero motivation, sluggish flow, unavailability of ideas but despite all that I managed to write and finish this chapter after a month I guess. I, somehow found an ominous flow about three days ago, as I began writing; then I noticed I had written about 5K within those three auspicious days, I am super satisfied with the result, and I certainly hope that you do find it satisfying as well. After-all I write for the sake for writing for you all.

So, I'll skip with the warning since last two chapters had enough of that :P

Rated: T or 15+

Disclaimer: Show belongs to Sony TV India and Mr. B.P. Singh.

WARNING: Contains coarse language, gore and dead body, mentions of drug abuse, smoking and drinking.

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.


BLOOD

Chapter 3: Demon

Sunday: 7:23 A.M.

Every morning was tiring for the twenty-seven year old Pankaj, who always took half-an-hour to get out of the bed. First he wakes up only to doze for few mintues then he slumps back only to be woken up and repeat the process till it reaches 8 o'clock from 7:30. But, this day was different. His boss has given a job to do, a case he had to solve—and he had this hunch, saying him that more severe things will happen hereafter.

Dragging himself sluggishly he entered his bathroom to tend to his things. Unlike the other days he didn't visit Freddy's home like normally did after ending his office hour, he went straight to his bed and fell asleep, completely exhausted to the bone. Never had he done this much field work, never had he been pushed around. Daya was ruthless in his methods; his lectures not only held cynical reasoning and cryptic understanding of crime but the older man shared his underlying philosophical views on being a cop. As a cop Pankaj was supposed to remain neutral to either party, only the evidences was supposed to let them work, without those they cannot function.

So much different from his usual senior partner Fredricks who was a complete goof, and laid back and who surprisingly was his neighbor. His wife whom he called Bhabi Ji was rather fond of him. She always invited him to their home for dinner when both of them arrived home. Since he lived alone, they were his only company when his friends were particularly not available, and he liked to spend time with them. They married young, and it was love… both were 25 when they tied the knot. They had kids as well, a nineteen year old daughter with a younger brother; he must confess those were the few kids who he could not connect with. They did not like him.

While he shat he always pondered what he would do today. A Sunday it was, but it was no holiday for them. He showered, played some electronic music while cooking his breakfast and getting ready for more field work.

He wore a lavender full sleeved shirt and his usual jeans, which he found rather difficult to get into. Inhaling a deep breath he finally managed to hook the buttons closed, by that time he was already out breath. Making sure the jeans were stretchable he put on his shoes, got his motorbike key and his helmet he got out of his house.

While he drove around the block he saw his senior partner's home, it was closed from the inside. He wondered whether if he should knock on it, which is when it opened hastily, and Freddy's daughter came to view. She recognized him, but said nothing—in-fact she turned her heels and got inside soon locking the doors closed.

That was rude. He conceded, however he shrugged and drove past their home. As soon as he was out from the street Freddy's daughter opened the door and looked towards the path where he was driving towards. Pankaj saw her through his rear view mirror and sighed dismally.

"Lagta hai wo dono mujhe kabhi pasand nahi karenge," He thought out loud and accelerated the bike towards the main road.

Due to the traffic about an hour-and a half later he reached his friend Nirvay's house to retrieve the CDs. If there were any friends who he could blindly trust were his childhood buddies, well, truthfully confessing out of hundreds only 5 or 6 were there whom Pankaj considered close enough to share his deepest secrets with. Although, Nirvay was a different case, the larger guy remained oddest in their close circle. He had very few—close to none, if Pankaj scrutinized hard then he could see himself on his not many list. The fat young man was lonely as he could ever be, and as a good friend, Pankaj—no matter what— was always there for him. If there were friends in Nirbhay's list, then it was because Pankaj always introduced him to everyone.

Like a good friend.

Nirbhay worked in Tata Consultancy, as a project manager, and since it was Sunday he normally stayed at his rented home browsing the net, editing photos, reading , he preferred to stay alone most of the time.

Pankaj rang the door-bell few times trying as much as to get on his old friend's nerves. The door was abruptly opened; before him was a disheveled and lethargic looking tall and fat man. Pankaj realized it was too early for him to wake up as the man often slept late. Unapologitically he barged inside and launched himself at the couch while Nirbhay dragged his heavy body towards the bathroom.

"Morning bey!" Pankaj called out loud and clear to which the man grunted his greeting behind the door, "Kuch milaa ki nahi?"

"Khud dekh le, raat bhar dekh raha tha, par itne saare log gujre ke kuch maloom hi nahi padaa. Na khoon dikha, na koi pagal!" he yelled from inside. "Tere police wale nazar se dekh saayad tujhe kuch mil jae. Maine sharpness aur clarity magnify kardiya hai. Tujhe koi paresaani nahi hogi."

"Kaun se folder pe rakha hai save karke?" Pankaj had already logged unto Nirbhay's laptop, and he got his answer—he went straight to work.

Few hours later, Pankaj was already bored but in hopes of finding a clue was rather charming, so he kept on watching, but nothing seemed out of blue. He saw Deepti walking out towards her car, and a small smile crept on his face which his friend noticed.

"Kya maal hai yaar! Kaun hai ye?" He spoke with light humor.

"Club ki malkeen, Deepti. Achi hai na?" Pankaj replied, his eyes still on the feed, on the gorgeous woman.

"Bhai meri setting karwa de na!" Nirbhay began shaking Pankaj with such force; the poor man fell right out of the bed.

"Bhosdike! Tujhe kya dalaal dikhayi deta hun?"

"Bhadakta kyun hai be gandu, mazaak nahi samajhta hai kya?" He spoke irritated, but made a comical face when sudden realization hit his fat head, "Tujhe ye pasand aayi hai, nahi? Isliye khud ke rakhna chahta hai!"

"Ganje ka nasaa utra nahi hai tere iss matke jaise tondh se!"

"Tu bhi toh 160 kilo ka tha, bol kise raha hai, pagal!"

"First of, main 142 ka tha aur 82 ghataya, aur tu 60 ka tha au 120 ka hai. Bol kise raha bitch!"

"True brah," Nirbhay went straight towards his TV and switched it on, still speaking to Pankaj as the set-up box was booting the screen."Toh setting karvayega ki nahi?"

A slight pause later Pankaj spoke, "Seriously?"

But in response all Pankaj got was silence, so he looked towards his age old friend. Who had an expression of longing, which made him realize it was of loneliness. He could say it because he had seen and known it perfectly. His thoughts lingered on the senior inspector who was 43, also as the man—who will probably hit 44 a month later who was still lonely, Daya.

Now, he must confss he rather liked the woman in their little conversation. Her personality definitely was cherishable; her unabashed nature was rather attractive. And of-course he cannot forget her physique. Her ample bosom, along with her luscious hour glass figure—she was surely praise worthy. He won't deny, he expected to hit on her soon. But looking at his friend, he realized he could do something good.

"Mujhe mil lene de usse, phir main dekhta hoon kya kar sakta hoon. Par tujhe ekk cheez karni hogi?"

"Aur woh kya?"

"Wajan ghata apna madarchod!"

"Yada yada, bhosad chod"

The slight flicker on the screen caught Pankaj's attention as he leaned forward to take a good look, he saw something shadowy. Nirbhay turned on the news,

"Bhai ye breaking news jaraa ake dekh," he called out; Pankaj grunted in annoyance as he walked towards the TV and read the headlines.

"An udintenfied mutilated body has been found today morning, when a fisherman notified the police about the smell. The day before, the police already found a body which went viral on the internet although the CID has taken responsibility to solve the case; it is yet to be known who the killer would be." Pankaj silently listened with a frown, "Few hours ago, the police had already explained the nature of murder, due to the similarities it holds with the previous case, it was probably a work done by a serial killer."

That was all he needed to hear. The video was blurred and mosaically censored, but the red fluid on the cart was enough to make a person imagine what face of death the man achieved. A serial killer now was roaming all over the city searching for his next victim. They need to work fast, to prevent it from happening.

. . . .

Daya did his usual routine after waking up, basic push and pull-ups, few hundred skips, then his bathroom etiquette activities. And since it was Sunday there was an extra deed, which involved cleaning every corner of his house. After finishing his house work, he turned on the TV to watch some news—breakfast was damned.

He thoroughly heard and saw the police statement involving both murders, he eventually was so anxious that he had to call to the headquarters. He ordered them to notify him immediately after getting the autopsy report since this work shall also be handed to their team. As expected the ACP called him to get ready to work. Seemingly his Sunday was already prearranged, few skipped meals along with the heat, and he'll probably throw up like yesterday.

So, ACP did not talk about his dispute with the other senior inspector—for which he was rather thankful to God. He'd be more precise on his thoughts that he behaved childishily, and unlikely than his usual cold shouldering the significant flirtation his friend and the woman shared. But he'd prefer not to dwell on his moderate lashing at his best-friend. What he said, was deservable to say the least, and enough was enough.

And, Mr. senior inspector got ready for the strainous job of investigating within few minutes. Thus, he called his company, the young and naïve inspector Pankaj, but got a surprise when the man decided to show up at his door step in flesh.

"Good morning sir," he cheerfully greeted the large man.

"Arey Pankaj tum yahaan? Main abhi tumhe hi phone lagaa raha tha."

"Ji sir! Jab maine aaj ki news dekhi, woh CDs wapas lautane ke baad sidhe yahaan aagaya."

"Toh kuch mila footage se?"

He shook his head pessimistically, "Nahi sir,"

"Unfortuante, I see. Hopefully sayad aaj kuch mil jaye." Daya checked for the surrounding and spotted Pankaj's bike, "Apni gaadi meri garage mein rakh do, aaj toh car se jana padega."

"Thank you sir," Pankaj turned his heels and began walking towards his bike, while Daya was locking his door. He heard the engine flaring to life only to be driven towards his parking spot. Daya went towards his garage and opened the gate. As Pankaj hauled his bike towards Daya's he spotted various tools which were necessary to fix bikes.

"Sir, footage toh time waste thi, socha kuch mil jayega— par kuch bhi nahi." Pankaj watched Daya rummaging through the boxes which apparently had the car keys. Seeing him raise an eyebrow, Pankaj hung his head low.

"Time waste toh hai, par jaroorat bhi hai. Tum ye socho ki, agar kuch mil jata toh? Har waqt negative soch ke kuch fayeda nahi hai. Aaj humme ek aur lash ko dekhne jaana hai, dusre murder ka." He got inside his SUV in the driver's seat, while Pankaj entered the passenger, "Did you see it?"

"Ji sir,"

"Tumhe kisine notify kiya?" He blarred the ignition, and reversed geared the car out from the garage.

"Ji nahi, main apne dost ke yahaan tha jab news dekha, phir sidhe police station jake CDs drop kar yahaan chalaa aaya." Daya nodded, and got out of the car and went towards the gate so as to close it safely. Pankaj observed the man was in good mood, despite the beard that covered his lower-half on his chubby face. The man looked rough, sturdy and worn-out, he looked his age or older than his actual present. When he sat unto his seat again, Pankaj spoke, "Hum kahan jaa rahe hai sir?"

Daya exhaled the words "Headquarters!" since his already was apparently hijacked, "autopsy reports tayaar hai. Bas usse leke nikalna hai ghatna shthal par."

Ghatna shthal,

"Sir main soch raha tha ki yeh… aapko lagta hai ki ye koi serial killer ka kaam hai?"

"Ab ye toh laash dekhne ke baad pataa chalega." Daya steered smoothly out from his porch towards the main road's street. His eyes on the road and ears on what Pankaj spoke,

"Sir ye serial killers… mujhe ye pataa nahi ki ye aise harqat karte kyun hai? Unhe kya, kanoon ka darr nahi?" His voice carried legit confusion, which made Daya realize if this becomes a case of serial killer then it may be Pankaj's first case involving mass murder, if they are not able to catch the murderer.

Or murderers

"Yeh toh maloom nahi ki unhe darr lagta hai, ki nahi. Lekin ek cheez yaad rakhna Pankaj. Unhe pakadna bahot muskil bhi nahi hai."

"Woh kaise sir?"

"Unhe pakad mein aane ka darr nahi, jis vajah se woh clues har jagaah chhod jate hai. They are fearless; they don't care about consequences, as they don't bear a conscience. Toh usually, jaldi pakad mein aa jate hai. Haan agar well educated killer hai, toh kuch complications ho sakta hai."

"Samajh gaya sir… ab aapko kya lagta hai ki sab murders kaun kar raha hai? Well educated ya phir koi aera gera?"

"I'm afraid, agar aur jyada bodies drop hota hai phir… hum sab saayad ek intelligent killer ke saath game khelenge. Umeed karta hoon, main galat soch raha hoon." His dismal voice weakened into an audible grunt as he stared ahead at the road, accelerating casually he cut through the vehicles on the highway towards their headquarters.

His companion, Pankaj remained silent with his own musing to tend to. He had seen enough English crime thrillers to know what a serial killer is or was. But, a fictional world and reality do not share many similarities in some terms. Fictional world made them aware of whom the killer may be, but reality had the unknown. The fear of the unknown is far more sinister. He imagined both a man and a woman who held no criminal record, someone fairly young for a beginner, or old to have enough experience and the caution to remain off-radar.

What if?

It wasn't one but many—a group perhaps? A gang maybe, Nagarajan was a criminal too, so there was possibility of his death being a gang related murder. Yes, maybe that might be the answer.

So he asked, "Sir, main soch raha tha ki, agar ye gang related hua toh? Jaise ki Nagarajan ko hi dekh li jiye, woh to thehra underworld ka aadmi— aur aisa ho sakta hai kisi underworld ke kisi aadmi ne uska murder kiya hoga?"

The senior inspector was rather impressed with his question, it made a fairly better point than having a serial killer onboard. The chain-like network of underworld shared many enemies than allies, and the wonder of formulating a 'what if?' statement deserved a medal on its own. Why didn't he think of that? No point in complimenting the younger man, so Daya suppressed his urge to react on his visible astonishment, just simply shrugged and told,

"Baat toh clear-cut hai, Pankaj, par uska jawaab bhi humme iss naye victim ki jaanch ke baad pataa chalega." Pankaj was visibly pleased with Daya's consideration to his stopgap wonderment.

A man out of nowhere jumped before their speeding car, and Daya stomped on the breaks violently. Their car skidded and stopped before the astonished man who stopped motionless in his place. Both inspectors had their seat-belts on, so nothing happened to them other than a rampaging heart, they shared no agonizing wound.

Daya recognized the man from before, the one, who crossed path while he rode his bike,

"Iski toh main!" Pankaj heard Daya holler at the man who was still before the car, and the larger man got out of the vehicle. The cars and motorbikes behind them began honking at them in frustration which got into his nerves especially at a biker who was just behind them. And, so he followed suit towards the back while Daya took the front.

As soon as he got there, Pankaj unleashed his temper with a huge back hand slap at the biker who apparently did not have his helmet on. His sheer force along with the anger behind shook the man from the bike as he fell back.

"Bhootnika, saale madarchod! Tujhe dikhai nahi de raha ki abhi accident ho jata? Bhosdika kab se horn bajaye jaa rahe madarchod," he dragged the fallen man by his collar while forcing him to stand up. He hit him again with another sharp slap which shoved the man outwards. Before he could retaliate, Pankajhad already his fingers around his neck as he unleshed more hits on the man's face. Pankaj's eyes fell upon his senior inspector who had his hands around the man who jumped before them.

"Tujhi ayyi jhawali, apana dole nahi, madarchod!" He heard his senior yelling Marathi. And, then he saw few traffic constables running towards them seeing the mishaps. So, Pankaj slapped few more times before letting the man go who only said,

"Tujhe dekh lunga!" the man yelled back at him as he ingnited his bike on, and began driving away.

"Abhi kya aankh main lauda ghusaya hai bey chutiye?" was Pankaj's only reply as an exclaimation. They were surrounded by people who silently watched the new story unfold before them, when Daya slapped the man unconscious. The constables arrived to yell but Pankaj came to rescue while he dispayed his C.I.D. batch which in turn made them quiet. Daya was breathing hard, and his ire finally calmed, since he took few deep breaths to compose himself.

He turned to look at both traffic constables, then at the traffic which was created due to him. They saluted him in return, and he nodded. By the time the horns were already dead.

"Iss admi ko yahaan se hatao aur pani dalo iske gand mein," He ordered, and they complied by taking the unconscious man away not before checking his pulse which was reacting,"saala gaadi ke aage har waqt jump marta hai, pair kaat do iske…. Madarchod sala chutiya!" His rambling stopped when Pankaj brought a water bottle which which stole from a driver. He took a big sip, and washed his faced with the leftover water. He threw the bottle nearby, and turned his heel towards his car and got inside followed by Pankaj who took the passenger seat.

Starting the car, he drove off towards their destination. Daya's mood was already foul by now, and so was Pankaj's but unlike the senior he had no rank on his side to exhibit it.

. . . .

Sunday; 11:03 A.M.

Both men reached their destination and entered their respective headquarter, furthermore the shorter man now had somehow managed to stride alongside the taller man who walked a lot faster than the other entire officers in the beaureu. The hallway was scarcer than normal week days, for this was Sunday. Normally, it was the A.C.P. who stayed alive in Sundays occasionally calling them as his old timer friend D.C.P. Chitrole often visited them every now and then during Sundays for inspection.

He sincerely prayed he didn't have to face him.

Scowling Daya was still furious due the incident at the highway; he could've killed the bastard man with a body of an overgrown kid with his car. Dumb fucking people had no common sense, or the traffic etiquettes to check for vehicles before crossing the road. He didn't cared he knocked him unconscious…okay, he did care, and he must admit that it was his unnecessary and uncalled fury that made him utterly violent sometimes.

Although, he genuinely hoped that, his slap should probably be enough for the man to study few traffic rules before walking the path again.

As they entered their office had they been surprised seeing the Deputy Commisioner? Absolutely…not, the old man's routine was to come up every Sunday to falter and ruin their holidays in the name of inspection. He made crude jokes at their intelligence which contradicted their skill at solving cases faster than local police work with perfect accurate results.

"Aarey? Bheemsen aur Ghatothkatch?" His familiar mocking voice perforated their ears, "Ayiye ayiye, aap dono ka hi intezaar kar rahe the. Bahut tariff sunli hai aapke bare, aap toh internet pe bhi chaa gaye."

Daya was confused, so was Pankaj when both looked at each other for a hint.

"Kiski balli chadhaa ke aa rahe ho dono?" Daya searched A.C.P's eyes to find something to read, but the blank stare shrugged him down. So, he took it upon himself.

"Aap kya kehna chahte hai sir?"

Chitrole astounded, turned to look at Pankaj who stepped back unconsciously, "Tum… aaj-kal ke naujawaan ho na? Internet use nahi karte?"

"Karta hoon na sir, par kaam karte waqt nahi." He replied uncomfortably under the older man's gaze which turned into amusement.

"Acha! Toh tum kaam bhi karne lage ho, Fredricks ke saath matargasthi nahi? I'm shocked! No really! I must be imagining." He held his head between his palms and massaged it slowly, "Yeh kya ho gaya hai iss bureau ko! Yeh nikame bhi kaam karne lage hai."

Even though he was deeply offended Pankaj chose to remain quiet, he didn't wish for a transfer order while he was living his dreams in Mumbai. But on the other hand, Daya was not as forgiving as the shorter man, so he tried to defend the sub-inspector's honor.

"Aap aise kaise baat kar sakte hai," He said and his voice raised, when a sudden sense of déjà vu grasped his lecture he gave yesterday at the station was replayed, once more. The reality, struck him again when he heard a familiar statement,

Chitrole stared at the big man for few seconds, observed—deduced a fact, "Main kuch bhi kar sakhta hoon. Ek ungli ghumake tumhara grah-nakhsatra badal sakta hoon. "

The tension in the room heightened when Daya's tongue slipped into a biting remark, "Chalo yeh toh pataa chalaa ki aap kuch toh karte hai, taane marne ke alaawa."

Pankaj snickered, while A.C.P. grimaced at Daya. Chitrole chose to not dwell or feed his anger instead he turned to look at A.C.P, and said,"Ye kaise kaise officer hai tumhare yahaan Pradyuman? Ek toh kaam ki jagaah gunda-gardi karo, logon ko maro-peeto insaaf ki jagaah—phir ek higher rank officer se aise baat karo. Apne bacho ko tameez sikhao A.C.P."

Pradyuman sighed ashamed, whilst shaking his head with , Chitrole was not finished, so to further imply his unnatural aggression he pointed his finger at Pankaj, while still holding Pradyuman's gaze, "Ye ladka,aaj subah subah District Magistrate ke ladke ko peet aya, iss wajah se ki who horn bajaa raha tha."

Pankaj earned a glare from the senior-most person in the entire bureau, as he cowered behind the bigger man who still held a dismissive regard against their guest. Chitrole further spoke, "Aur ye aadmi, tumhara Bheem, ek aadmi ko toh aaj ye maar hi dalta. Who bechara abhi roh raha hai, ye jaan ke ki iss admi pe case nahi kar sakta hai kyun ki ye C.I.D. se jo belong karta hai na, agar karega toh daraa dhamka ke usse dabaa dega ye, Bheem ka aulaad. Wah re kismat wah!"

Daya glowered at the shorter man whose mouth had no loose end, as much as he disliked his own inability to face someone with speech, he disliked his worthlessness when he can't even use his strength on this man. He saw around the office and found few associates which included, Shreya who was trying to hide her face behind a monitor; and Nikhil along with Sachin who pretended to carry a non-existing conversation trying not to look towards them.

"Ye sach hai, Pankaj?" Pradyuman chose to counter the timid looking young man who fidgeted uncomfortably under his stare. Yet his silence gave up his answer. "Aaj apna kaam khatam karte hi usse sorry bol aoge samjhe?"

His happiness was cut-short when, Chitrole interjected, "Sirf sorry? Arey isne sab ke saamne usse kutte ki tarah maara hai, who bhi nikame ki tarah gaali dete hue. Pata hai who aadmi, uska baap mera dost hai?"

Pradyuman was getting irritated with the senior officer's rambling. As a man who had sacrifed his time, his age, and family to the job—he certainly was the man of the office. These new kids were their successors, their heritage of being exceptional detectives of their time. He had this little doubt, a kind little stipulation that he might not live long enough.

His depression, his loneliness was slowly—unforgivingly, was grasping his consciousness. And he was aware, perfectly aware what it was doing to him.

Pradyuman looked at his one-half protégé, the grim faced, brute of a detective, Daya, and found him in a precarious situation, much similar to himself. On the contrary, it was his achievements, and astute arrogance held his grave glum in a vice grip to let it slip out, he was a proud Maratha after-all. And that asture arrogance was what his protégé did not possess. No forgivance in his brute demeneor, the man was rather soft-spoken, timid as he could he, innocent as a child—however all those traits are now debatable.

Nikhil had described him in absolute detail about his mystic verbal spats with his other protégé, Abhijeet. Even though he was far from astonished, he made it clear it was a phase of jealousy, which he was rather familiar with. If he could look back at his past, his relationship with his former partner, friend and brother Chitrole can be replayed once again. Chitrole, who was good with words made it to the top, over him, while he, perished within the ranks to remain in one spot—seemingly forever.

Unlike him, who was silenced during that time by his superior to face his own object of envy, he let Daya have the freedom to confront. Not surprised at the result when Abhijeet presented his propaganda to be removed from his given duty, the case of Nagarajan, while Daya held the case of the murderer. Abhijeet had no intention whatsoever to confront his friend. But, much like himself, he dismissed his dull advancement and rebuked him as both needed to face the other in order to sort their differences.

It was good for the team, their office and good for themselves; it must be good for Daya as well. Presently the said man had no one to lean on, and cases like these are more challenging to the heart than to the brain. And, Pradyuman knew what kind of man Daya was, the brooding giant, who had no one except for Abhijeet to share his secrets with.

His mulling came to a halt realizing he was staring dourly at his own reflection and his ex-friend rambling, so he finally spoke in a burly voice, as an age old man,"Ho gaya tumhara Chitrole?"

His dismissal of rank was a force that shook Chitrole off his endless lecture, he dramatically albeit comically turned to look at his old friend/enemy, "Chitrole?" he repeated,

"Chitrole?" he said again, much to himself that to everyone in the room who had a look of horror in their eyes, "Bhul gaye ki main tumhara senior hoon?"

Pradyuman shook his head, "Nahi bhoola, lekin tum saayad bhool gaye ki tum ek well respected Inspector aur uske team ki bezati kar rahe ho."

The scorn converted to an ominous atmosphere in the room when Chitrole responded, "Ye? Respected? Tumhe respect ka matlab maloom bhi hai? Ye 6 foot ka aadmi, darr phelata hai, respect nahi."

"Darr unko lagta hai jo galat kaam karte hai, kya tumhe lagta hai—darr, Chitrole?" A.C.P's sharp rebuttal made his old friend fumble with words. He hid his face by turning his back to them. Every person in the room was stunned seeing Pradyuman's behavior which was chaotically calm and composed. Chitrole's forehead aroused a drop of sweat out of nervousness but he refused to let it slide.

"Ab ye Daya aaj subah traffic main, ek admi ko behosh kar aaya hai, aur who video abhi internet pe bhi aa chukka hai, jab who aadmi maan haani ka case thokega aur media vale tumhare pichwade lagenge tab mere paas mat aana." He dismally said, while turning his heels towards the exit door. He staggeringliny made his way out not before glaring at Pankaj who gulped nervously. Although he sharply looked over his shoulder and stared right at his old friend.

He declared, "Koni vakil darshwili jate tohve, Pradyuman, mala apla chehra naka darsvu junya mitra."

They saw his retreating form go, but it came to a halt when Pradyuman's voice interrupted their conflicting thoughts, "Daya! Pankaj! Dono mere cabin pe!" he barked his orders and walked out with them following him.

As they entered whilst Pankaj closed the doors he saw the older man stanind by the window staring down at the road below their office. His back displayed confidence an arrogance, along with the experience he had gained as an Inspector in the field. He looked like the Assistant Comissioner of Police rather than a familiar man who was known as a father figure to them.

"Ye sab kya hai Daya?" he did not exclaim or screamed, but his tone induced valor yet he didn't turn to look at them.

"Wo aadmi car ke saamne agaya sir," Daya replied, stiff whilst stepping on stones in a calculating reason.

"Main uski baat nahin kar raha," he shoved his hands in his pockets, "Abhijeet ko tumne kya kaha?"

Daya grimaced with a scowl so terrifying that Pankaj instinctively stepped few feet away from him. He was fraught with stern anger; he had enough of every one caring for that man who betrayed their brotherhood, that man who had no respect whatsoever for him; the man, who considered him nothing but a child, disregarded him as a man. The man—that man who was regarded perfect in seemingly every mankind's eye.

Was he so perishable? Had he not done enough for the bureau for people to notice him? They glorified him, they praised him. All they saw was him.

His scornfulness got the better of him as he spoke with disdain, "Kya aapke favorite officer ke armano ko thes pahuchai hai maine? Aap chahte hai, usse main sorry bolu jaise ki aapne Pankaj ko kaha?"

"Pankaj ki baat alag hai, aur tumhara alag." The older man finally turned to look at him, and his eyes held no anger but serenity, "Tumne na sirf tumhare dost ki armano ko thes pahunchai hai, balki tumhare colleague ki bhi. Wo officer jo ki tumhare iss case main ek important pehlu hai."

Daya's demeneaor still held contempt as he was breathing hard with fury, "Important pehlu…"

But the older man interrupted him, "Pehle sunlo meri baat."

Pradyuman inhaled a sharp breath followed by an exhausting sigh, "Mujhe nahi jaanna ki tum dono ke beech kya aur kyun hua, who tum dono ki problem hai, par mujhe ye jaanna hai ki tumne aisa kya kaha ki wo sidhe iss case se apna naam hataa raha hai."

The glare was returned by Daya to his father figure superior officer, he retorted, "Everything is interconnected sir, agar aapke saukeen officer ko thodi si sachai bura laga to iss case mein uska koi kaam hi nahi hai."

"Agar wo kaam karna nahi chahta, toh Sachin ko boliye ki Nagarajan ke baare mein jaanch-padtaal kare."

"Tumhe pataa hai na bagair senior Inspector ke supervision pe aise cases sub-inspector kuch nahi kar sakte?" Pradyuman slowly walked towards him, his posture flaunted transcendency as he stood right before Daya. The older man stared upwards at Daya who looked down at him. "Par Abhijeet ne aisa nahi kiya… kyun maloom hai?"

Daya remained quiet, so the older man spoke, "Kyun ki wo tumse behtar hai."

Daya mocked a laugh, and it was frightening for Pankaj who cowered nearby ACP's table. "Sab wahi sochte hai sir, aapko kya lagta hai? Ki mujhe maloom nahi nahi iss soch ke baare mein? Ki Abhijeet better hai mujhse, Abhijeet ye aur who. Maine iss bureau ko apna 17 saal de diya, ye sunne ke liye ki Abhijeet mujhse better hai?"

"Kya sirf tumne hi diya hai? Abhijeet kya faltu mein aise hi baitha rehta hai?" ACP challenged, aware of Daya's envy he was igniting more fire to the innocence of Daya, "Tumne jitni goliyaan khayi hai, utni usne bhi khai hai. Tum dono bhagidaar ho iss bureau ki credit pe."

Pradyuman wished for the man before him to catch the hint that whatever CID was today was because of both. But, if Daya desired for more, then he needed to cut ties and walk alone. The path of loneliness is much painful to walk, as it will lack a conscience, but inorder to find self, a man needs to get lost.

Pradyuman knew, he perfectly knew.

"Nahi sir, maine jitna khoon bahaya hai, utna usne nahi bahaya. Main hi wohi kawach hoon jisne usse har baar bachaya hai complicated situations se, na ki usne. Aap ko toh pataa ho na chahiye na, ACP sir."

"Mujhe pataa hai kisne kitna kaam kiya hai, par dikhta toh wohi acha hai har case pe, wo tumhe over-shadow kar raha hai. Tumhe agar ye na manjoor hai—agar lagta hai ki tum usse behtar ho… toh prove karo. Apne aap ko prove karo."

"Agar aap mere professional life ko imply kar rahe hai toh thik hai sir, par mere personal problem main aapka kuch kaam nahi, I apologize but that's how it shall be, sir." Pradyuman was not surprised, he'd rather expected the rebuke, and the man was sacrificing everyone to get lost. Hopefully, his favorite son will come back home after finding himself truthfully.

After a few long seconds, Pradyuman spoke like a superior officer, "You are dismissed," and so, as both the men turned their back, he spoke again, "Tum nahi, Pankaj."

Pankaj remained in the cabin as Daya walked out the door, as he desperately needed to smoke out his frustrations and a bad day.

"Tumne kyun mara uss ladke ko?" the voice shook him from a trance like state, and Pankaj found himself in an uncomfortable circumstance. Usually, he avoided direct contact with the man, he always had this feeling that the senior man thought of him as an A class clown, an ass clown to sound precise.

"Sorry, sir." It sounded like a child making an apology before his class teacher.

"Sorry nahi, explaination, varna suspend kar dunga." Pradyuman's stern declaration broke his determination, and he crumbled under his glare.

"Ji… sir…main, main," he fidgeted.

"Main, main kya?"

"Ji sir, who gussa aa gaya, jab sir apna aapaa kho baithe, tab wo ladka horn bajate hi jaa raha tha, toh…"

"Toh tumne bhi apna aapaa kho diya?" He sighed as he walked back towards his chair behind his table. "Dekho Pankaj, main tumhe lecture nahi dene wala. Tum to dekh hi sakte ho gusse main aadmi kya kya kar leta hai, best example toh tumhara partner hai iss case mein..."

He solemly looked at the younger man, who in return stared blankly, seeing the fire in his boss' eyes slowly fading from his face. He appeared old, which every believed but the aged man was good at pretending or hiding his nature. For once Pankaj saw the old man, the Assistant Commissioner of Police whose maturity prevail all their glory combined.

He realized that man was speaking to him, "…Pankaj, agar iss case mein tum bhi apna aapaa kho doge toh, galati hone ki chances bahot badh jayega. A voice of reasoning should always be there. Aur wo reason tumhe banana padega..."

The silence remained comprehensive and ACP still kept talking, "…aur main ek saath do-do officer ko khona nahi chahta. Samajh sakte ho na meri baat?"

The younger male dumbly nodded, deciphering each syllable hearing he was finally considered as an officer and not an ass clown, "…Daya ke saath jo kuch chal raha hai, wo natural hai, aur usme wo kabiliyaat hai iss situation se baahar nikalne ka, mujhe pura bharosa hai uss par… par agar wo akela rahega, toh besaq pagal ho jayega, toh agar tum usse iss case mein ek reasoning banoge, toh saayad wo apne aap ko jaldi dhoond payega."

"Par sir, Daya sir toh koi bache nahi hai ki unhe kisi zaroorat padegi, ussi ke wajah se toh unki aur Abhijeet sir ke beech jhagda ho gaya tha." The words flew out colorfully which in turn silenced ACP who parted his lips to speak but there were no words available.

Building his confidence Pankaj gambled more unto his opinion, "Sir, jitna waqt maine sir ke saath guzaara hai parso se, mujhe ye pataa chala ki unhe severe underestimation naa gawaara hai. Aur Abhijeet sir—" he chose his words carefully, "—sir ne kuch jyada hi underestimate kar diya Daya sir ko, toh mujhe lagta hai uss wajah se… dono ke beech, jhagda hua…" his foretelling faded into whisper as he saw the older man deciphering his reasoning.

"Chalo bhai! Jo bhi uun dono ke beech hua—uun dono ko solve karni hogi, mujhe fikar hai toh case ke baare mein… kuch pataa chalaa tum dono ko?" Pankaj noticed the avoidance of subject, he was aware the older man cared a lot more than he showed.

"Maine uss club ke footages dekha hai, usme se toh kuch nahi mila sir, aur aaj subah news dekha, toh pataa chala ki ye ek serial killer ka kaam hai."

"Lagta toh waisa hi hai, maine laash ko dekha hai—aur wo dekhne laayak nahi thi. Uska muh hi nahi hai itni buri tarah se mara hai usse ki uska muh pura andar dab gaya hai. Pehchan toh door ki baat hai."

Pankaj always had a vivid imagination, and the visual representation of the body in his mind was overwhelming. So, if only the face has been disfigured then the theory of having a serial killer will turn moot.

"Toh sir, ye kaam kisi serial killer ka kaise hua?" he asked.

"Kyun ki, uske sareer mein se heroine mili hai bilkool pehle ki laash ki tarah. Aur iss baar, ek nahi do laashe mili hai. Dusre wale ki jankari news walo ke paas nahi hai. Usme se bhi heroine mili hai..." The older man grabbed a pen from the table and began twirling it between his fingers thoughtfully, "…Pehle wale ka body post-mortem ho chukka hai, abhi tum dono ko dusre wale ke paas jana hoga. Daya ko notify kardo aur niklo yahaan se."

"Sir, humara ek doubt tha," Pankaj spoke—his confidence foreshadowing those sweats that formed on his temple despite the room was air conditioned.

"Kya?"

"Hummein lagta hai ye kaam gang related ho sakta hai."

"Ho sakta hai, laash ki pahchan agar ho jaati hai tab pataa chalega. Abhi niklo, kaam pe lag jao."

"Ji sir," Pankaj saluted and walked out from the cabin to find his senior officer.

Dayanand Shetty had found his shelter in the men's toilet, as he sat atop the toilet seat and smoked to his heart's content. He pondered about the deal that transpired between him and Pradyuman. What he had said was outrageous, and considering the older man didn't yell or shout showed how degraded his mental agony has become.

After finishing his smoke, he got up and flushed down the offensive material with the water. Opening the door he came face to face with his own reflection. He slowly washed his hand, while observing the grey patches on his stubble beard he drank his tiredness and lonliness with a heavy liver just so he could sleep. Insomnia was never a good choice for an officer of the law; he needed sleep which he found after drowning in beer the night beforeand routinely he woke up early without a hangover.

He washed his face, hands and shoved some water unto his eyes which reddened as the cold water struck his nerves. Taking out his handkerchief he cleaned the remaining dirt, grime and tension with it he walked out of the toilet.

Few yards later he came face to face with the only woman in the office this Sunday, Shreya.

"Sir," she said unsettled, to the unfamiliar man who seemed more like a stranger than her—their Daya sir.

"Bolo." It came out like an order, he stood his full height and she had to arch her neck upwards to read his eyes. He smelt of raw cigarette smoke, and instinctively she squint her eyes as her nose picked up. No woman liked a man if he smoked.

"Aap smoke karte hai?" she asked innocently.

Daya reached into his pocket and retrieved a mint flavored gum; he quickly toppled it inside his mouth and began chewing it, "Haan."

"Kyun? Aapne wo TV wali ad nahi dekhi?"

"Kyun? Kyun ki main smoke kar sakta hoon isiliye. Pichle bees saal se cigarette smoke kar raha hoon, Ad ke anusaar ab tak toh maar chuka hota." He dryly told, "Tumhe problem ho rahi hai?"

That particular enquiry was a mystery on its own, whether he was concerned or challenging her, she found it rather confused. So she excused herself from the strange man, and walked towards the women's washroom.

. . . .

Both me met at the parking lot, where Daya occupied the wheels while his companion—the young and fat boy Pankaj took his usual spot—the passenger seat. Both were reviewing their uneventful day, although Daya had lot more to think about, but Pankaj concentrated on the case. Like his senior Inspector has declared that he must supervise his opinions and lest the man stay lonely to dwell on his thoughts, personal problems are quite nauseous.

They drove towards the forensic lab where the second dead body was comprised of. It awaited its visitation to the morque, but for their sake it was kept still for few hours. Daya drove quietly, and so was Pankaj who continued his mulling over the theory of not having a serial killer, he was becoming obsessed with that enigma. Just one body and it had taken a toll on his mind, how many more and he'll forget about the world.

It was both riveting and stimulating; he may see a mythical world of demons that were commonly known as criminal, not those petty puny perpetrators, but the dangerous. However, for him a ghost, nothing is more dangerous than a non-existing entity. He dearly prayed it is not a ghost who is killing all.

It didn't take more than half-an-hour to reach their destination. While Pankaj wished for the murderer being a human and not a ghost, his companion—the tall, big and brawly Inspector had other thoughts. He was not expecting to see Tarika after all that transpired the day before, and combining all the piss poor day Sunday; he certainly hoped not to see her. He saw her yesterday watching both the men sizing up to get an upper hand, which eventually none achieved.

As both of them entered, they saw Salunkhe and no Tarika, thanking his dear God or Karma or whatever; Daya entered to get a clear view on the body. He earned a greeting from Salunkhe who was still lively as ever, with his fake colored hair and a jovial smile.

He was strictly professional as he spoke, "Boss, ye dekho… aisi haalat ki hai ki isse keede bhi na khae."

"Keede nahi khaenge? Wo kaise sir, maggots to har cheez khaa jatein hai." Pankaj was back to his idiotic migrainic childish self. Nevertheless, instead of paying attention to the lecture that the doctor was fighting with, he chose to look at the body.

The throat was open and Salunkhe somehow tied a knot to the food tract that happened to be outside. He shared nothing similar to Nagarajan whose eyes and lips were sewn shut. It was not stitched but the eye shocked had burn marks, with no eye balls in it. His lips were swollen and parted, which exhibited a toothless grin, as the cut marks on his jaws were wide open. The most disturbing part was the tongue which hung lifelessly out of his mouth. "Ջոկեր" Unknown, and unreadable—a foreign language, those letters were carved on his swollen white tongue.

"Ye kya likha hai doctor saab?" Daya enquired, he took a closer look by leaning forward.

"Mujhe kya pataa? Lagta hai tattoo jaisa, par hai nahi. Uski jabaan be ragad ke likha hai. Sirf wahaan nahi iske…" the short man removed the white sheet that covered him and showcased the whole body of the dead man, "Iske pure badan pe likhi gayi hai."

Pankaj was horrified at what he saw, although he hadn't seen Nagarajan's body he had seen the picture on the internet. And discovering the brutality portrayed on a canvas was much better than reliving it with his livid imagination. The stab wound seemed down to top, like the murderer punctured looking eye-to-eye with the man as he dragged the metal disclosing those innards to spill out. Thankfully those were tied unto knots by the doctor Salunkhe.

"Aur sirf iski nahi, dusre wale ke body pe bhi likhi gayi hai…" he quickly walked towards his space board where laid few documents, "…iske seene pe likha hai, and everything has been carved." He spoke with such glee, as if he wandered with utmost fascination due his interest in morbid fantasia; Dr. Salunkhe was a morbid man after-all.

And it disturbed Pankaj.

The short man handed those documents to Daya who quietly went through the pictures and the reports. The man who apparently went by the name, Harish Rizwaan was a cocain smuggler by profession. Nevertheless, he had few run-ins with police station but walked out with bribes— no surprise there. Did Daya felt sorry for the man? The aspects of pure savagery left him having double thoughts, yes he felt sorry for not identifying him through his face, which was flattened to the floor—it was beyond disfigurement. Yet he didn't felt sorry while reading his criminal history.

Daya wondered what could be the last thoughts both these men shared when they were murdered.

"Ye letters toh match nahi kar rahe hai, sir. Ye likha kya hai?" he repeated frustrated, ագահություն; he wondered what the hell does that even mean.

Do they have a foreigner who is behind all these murders?

"Mujhe kya pataa?" Dr. Salunkhe instinctively replied, even though the question was not for him.

Apologetic, Daya asked, "Sorry sir, aap ko nahin keh raha… ye… ye laash kiski hai?"

"Satyajit More, ek A class supari killer, ye pichle teen saalo se most wanted list pe tha."

"We have a Batman roaming this city, I'm telling you sir!" Pankaj who looked ashen finally spoke through the bile that was reaching his throat. "Ye sab ussi ka kaam lagta hai, kisi gang member ka nahi."

"Jahaan tak mujhe pataa hai, Batman khoon toh nahi karta." Salunkhe jested while covering the body with a white spread. Doing so, he told Daya to take post-mortem along with other documents that he kept on his work table.

"Doctor Saab, aapko kya lagta hai ki ye khoon gang related hai? Ya ye koi serial killer ka kaam hai?" Still imagining the agonizing pain, Pankaj spoke through the nausea that churned inside his belly.

"Main ek doctor ka rawaiya de saktha hoon, ek professional opinion," he narrowed his eyes behind the glasses he wore as he observed both the men who stood side-by-side.

"Iss aadmi ka heart churaya gaya hai, agar usse na nikalta toh ho sakta hai ki ye sayad abhi kisi hospital ke ICU pe hota, bach jata heroin overdose se. Ye jo bhi hai, jaisa bhi hai, painstalkingly aur time le kar maar raha hai, inn dono bodies ke beech teen ghante ka interval hai. Mujhe maloom nahi ki ye kya jataana chahta hai aise maar kar, par ye jaroor saabit hota hai, ki agar isse na rokaa gaya toh ye aur khoon bahayega."

He disturbingly in a whispery voice further spoke, "Ye khooni apna design abhi tak sirf criminals logon par apply kar raha hai, aur ye brutality dekh ke main ye keh sakta hoon ki ye sidhe-sadhe innocent logo ko bhi marne lagega."

"Aapko lagta hai ki ye ek sadist hai?" Daya enquired solemly, accepting the doctor's opinion as his own.

"Lagta toh nahi, woh abhi tak toh bagair dard ki maut baant raha hai, lekin agar ab wo khoon karne laga toh saayad… saayad, usko ye superiority ki bhanak lag jayegi, prarthna karo Pankaj, prarthna, agar superiority hua, toh wo saayad heroin ki doses dena band kardega." The doctor got behind his table, and dialed few numbers as he waited for the other line to answer.

"Jaldi kaam par lag jao Daya, agar tumne usse nahi pakda toh ho saktha hai ki aur bodies milegi, aur woh bodies aur burre haalat mein milegi." The short statured man warned him in a voice which Daya found intimidating, before he could ask more question the other line on the phone answered and Salunkhe was deep in conversation. He was talking with the workers from the morgue.

Taking that as a cue Daya turned his back to the good doctor and walked out from the office while Pankaj on toe behind him. The young man's ashen face finally found its color as he saw Daya's hardened and focused expression. The documents on his hands were crushed with the grip the man had on the files, seeing that Pankaj knew what was going on in his head.

He was focused to prove his worthiness over his best-friend who was now—he considered as his rival, he desperately needed to prove a moot point of being better.

There was no doubt, he was already better as he remained alone. And Pankaj had a new found respect for the man. The man always remained behind all the glory, all the praises. The man always walked alone.

"Ab kahaan sir?" He asked while getting inside the car.

Daya did look while answering, "Embassy."

Pankaj nodded knowingly, as the man put the vehicle on ignition, and steered his car away from the parking spot. He finally checked his phone in instinct to see the clock even though he had a wrist watch, but got a surprise seeing Deepti Chauhan's friend request as his notification. He forgot he had to check for the time.

Time was valuable for Daya so he always drove faster, no less for the time being it was 1:37 P.M and looks like they'll be skipping a meal today.

. . . .

Sunday: 6:33 A.M.

"Kaam khatam ho gaya?" an aged man asked his companion who strolled beside him glumly. The companion nodded in approval while staring blankly forward. They were brisk walking unceremously; the middle-aged man was breathing hard, and his grey hair spotted sweat that covered his entire face. His companion, no more than 35 was a tall bald man who looked sharp and intimidating, but looked fairly younger than his age.

"Haan,"

"News main dekha maine ki C.I.D. involve ho chuki hai who Tamil aadmi ke case mein," He stopped on his track which his bald companion imitated, both stared all around the beach.

After a pause the bald head man replied, "Ji,"

"Toh mujhe kya karna hai? Boriya bishtar— baandh kar China nikalna hai ya phir khudkushi?" The slight humor in his desperation was amusing for the bald headed man, who found it difficult to hold back his snicker, but eventually he did held it back.

"Aapko kuch karne ki zaroorat nahi hai, aur rahi baat C.I.D. ki, toh aap befikar rahiye, woh kuch track kar nahi payenge."

"Fikar kaise naa karoon? Tumhe pataa hai na unki track record case solve karne main kaise hai? It's down right frightening." the older man hissed, noticing few people walking past them, "Pataa hai drugs ki market chalaana kitni mushkil hai? Agar unhe ek bhi suraag mila toh hamara kundli unke haath main aa jayega."

"Aap kuch jyada hi tareef kar rahe hai unki, sir." The tall man deadpanned and the older man stared perplexed. The bald man looked towards a woman walking her dog before them whilst speaking, "Suraag agar milbhi gayi, toh woh hamaari taraf isara nahi karegi. Unko lagega ki ye serial killer ka kaam hai."

"Aur woh galat bhi nahi hai," the man's tone darkened, as he began walking slowly with his companion. "Agar unhe bhanak bhi lag gayi, toh socho hamaara pura shantanat khatam ho jayega iss desh main."

"Aap kuch jyada hi tension lete hai sir," The tall man stood before him and stared down at the shorter—older man who suspiciously watched him. "Mere kabiliyat pe aapko saq hai kya?"

Few moment of silence later the man spoke again, "Tumhe maloom hai ki uss Tamil aadmi ki maut kyun hui hai?" the man's gaze fell upon the woman who was walking the dog, seeing her he smiled and waved his hand, which the woman returned with her own.

"Ji nahi,"

"Tumhe ekk fact batataa hoon, dhyan se sun na. Iss dosho crore ki abaadi vale desh mein, baby boom toh hua tha, usse yeh toh pataa chalta hai ki jyadatar naujawaan bhatakte hai raat pe. Unki urges, fantasies, requirements sab raat ko hi baahar aate hai, jise pane keliye unhe energy chahiye. Unhe pura karne keliye clubs-vlubs main jyadatar bheed rahti hai, yahaan tak ki underage aged bhi kabhi kabhar door pe dikhai dete honge nahi?" the bald man nodded, whilst the older man continued, "Uun naujawaano ki wajah se toh hamaari business phal-phool raha hai, hum utne hi unpar dependent hai jitna ki woh ham par. Agar hum pakde gaye to kya hoga kabhi socha hai tumne?"

The tall man silently listened to the older man's ramblings, "Nagarajan ne apne demands kuch jyada hi badha diya, aur hamare iss business mein hamein jyadatar dusro ki zaroorat hoti hai, toh woh hume apne maal supply karta, aur hum usse. Par uss admi ko kuch jyada chahiye tha, uske urges aur needs humse jyada hogaya. Woh aadmi ek balance tod raha tha, agar hum nahi maante toh humara chain toot jaata… samajh rahe ho ki nahi?"

"Ji,"

"…Kabiliyat sab main hoti hai, uss Tamil aadmi ke paas ye kabiliyat thi ki woh ladkiyo phasaa leta tha. Kabiliyat ye thi ladkiyan apne-aap kaam pe lag jaate, unhe force karne ki zaroorat nahi thi. Aisa muh tha uss aadmi ka. Isiliye toh uska muh band karna padaa."

"…Aur usne apko ussi muh se dhamkaya? Aur aapko naa gawara tha—darr tha, ki uski wajah se koi aur, aapke saath gadaari kare?"

"Samajhdaar ho bhai tum," the man turned towards the baldy, and stared dangerously with narrowed eyes, "Tumhare kabiliyat pe mujhe koi saq nahi, aur na hi kabhi hogi bhi. Tum bharose laayak aadmi ho, Vajra. Main bas yahi bataa raha hoon ki tumhare iss arrogant raveiye 'kabiliyat' ke wajah se aur ek balance na toot jaye,"

The bald man Vajra's blank stare was now on him when he said, "Balance toh barkaraar rahega sir, aap maal giraye aur hum laashein."

The older man visibly shivered with the voice the man used, the sinister glint on his eyes raise chills inside him. Shrugging the tension, the man reached inside his pocket to retrieve his phone. "Apnaa Bluetooth on karna," which Vajra complied,

"Yeh dono kaun hai?" he asked intrigued,

"Ye kaun hai aur kya karte hai, woh tumhare kuch kaam nahi ayega. Bas itna samajhlo ki ye tumhare naya sikaar hai, ye dono kuch jyaada udd rahe hai, inke pankh kaat dena. Aur dhyaan rakhna kuch gadbad na ho." The bald man just nodded, and jogged towards the opposite direction. The older man stood silently observing the retrieving man when the woman with dog came to him.

"Chale, Mr. Chauhaan?" she said,

"Chaliye darling ji,"

To Be Continued.


A/N: And so I hope you like this journey so far. I must confess I had a difficult time typing all that with a dis-functioning fingers, after surviving a minor accident, even though I walked out with minor injuries, including scratches and stitches it was still grueling. Nevertheless, I was anxious to update, and I finished! Now I'm satisfied.

So now to answer your questions guest reviewers.

Now we know Daya is a tough cop with a ridiculous overly melodramatic cry which I believe is unnecessary if he has to be portrayed as a tough man in the show. I've no complaints if those were done for the sake of character development, but I didn't find it little bit interesting, it was rather disappointing to see a grown man cry with all those tears and snots. I found it hilarious in-fact. :P Sorry but that's what I thought watching that episode.

So, this story is an Alternate take on our favorite show, people shall be portrayed differently, so there won't be a crying criminal after earning a slap from Daya. But instead, there will be criminals who will retaliate with a punch. Him vomiting was a case of food poisoning, and humidity and I suppose, a product of over imagination. :P I think that's a valid excuse, I apologize.

And your request to add Shreya, I introduced her, hopefully I can justify her character in upcoming chapters. But I must say, results may vary. Sorry if I disappointed you with her screen time Miss YRSTMP but I assure you, she'll be there in the next chapter.

Also I considered Miss Aditi not wishing a Dareya fic, neither do I expect it do be an angst romance based fiction, truth be told I don't really enjoy those.

More characters will play their roles in future but those will be selective few, to help the story's protagonists with the procedures. More characters means more complications jumping from point-of-views, it will be confusing. But I'll try my best, so, not to worry.

How do I manage so much? I think motivation to write longer chapters, and longer chapters means more route to explore their minds. I like going through all that.

Now I shall take my leave, to finish another chapter from my other stories. Bye.. Have a great week/month everyone.

Till then off~

Formerly known as, Bossmann.

PS: I used translator to write those words which means Joker and Greed.