Electricity ripped through him, not sliding off, not dispersing. His body locked, muscles seizing. His grip broke.
DJ dropped.
He twisted midair, landed hard, rolled once, came up on a knee.
Krish staggered, shaking, teeth clenched.
For the time he felt something like this.
DJ raised his arm again.
Shock.
Another
.
And another.
Each hit sparked against Krish's skin, each one landing heavier than the last. Krish growled, tried to step forward, failed.
Rony switched modes.
DJ started moving.
Circling.
He twisted both wrists.
Two electric rods fired out, slamming into the ground on either side of Krish. They flared alive, arcing constant current between them.
Krish tried to push through.
Dj fired again.
Two more rods—left and right—locking the space tight.
Krish took one step.
Then a disk snapped out and slammed down in front of him, humming violently.
He dropped to one knee.
Then both.
His scream tore out of him, raw and furious, ripping through the rain outwards and shaking the ruined building down.
DJ didn't flinch.
Rony switched again.
Needle darts snapped out.
They pierced skin. Shoulder. Side. Thigh.
Krish's movements slowed. Not stopped—slowed.
Shock.
Darts.
Shock.
Darts.
Over and over.
The storm swallowed the sound. Krish's body twitched, muscles firing out of sync, hands clawing at the ground.
Then—
Less movement.
Less resistance.
Dj slowed down.
The rods dimmed. Few drones hovered, waiting.
Krish lay there, chest rising, rain hissing against his skin.
Rony exhaled, slow and shaky.
DJ just stood there for a second.
Air sliding off his visor, rustling the red scarf around his neck. Sparks fading. Krish on the ground, twitching, breathing.
"You did it," DJ said. Quiet. Almost disbelieving.
"You actually did it."
No celebration.. He himself couldn't believe it.
He looked down at Krish.
"Now let's finish it before he gets back up. Anesthetic'll wear off in five, ten minutes. Let's go."
Silence. No response came from Rony.
DJ frowned.
"Rony?"
Still nothing.
"Rony?"
No reply.
DJ looked at the visor, trying to spot him. He was gone , no feed of him. He couldn't see him—but if he could, he would've noticed it immediately. Rony wasn't looking at screens. Wasn't looking at numbers.
He was staring at Krish.
Locked on to the twitching body like it meant something. Like he saw something else
His eyes were wet, and his expression changed to a determination.
DJ felt his arm move.
Not his choice.
The HUD shifted.
Combat blue—gone.
Danger red flooded his vision.
"Rony," DJ said, sharper now. "What are you doing?"
No answer.
The firing interface changed. Lines rearranged.
Target lock snapped on.
DJ's breath hitched when he saw the weapon label scroll past.
Anti-series.
"RONY," DJ said louder. "Rony—stop."
He tried to pull his arm back.
It didn't move.
The suit ignored him.
"Rony!" DJ grabbed his own outstretched arm with his free hand, muscles straining. The servos didn't even tremble.
The missile launched.
Clean. Precise.
It streaked forward and latched near Krish's chest with a dull clack.
Inside DJ's visor, a flat voice played:
CAUTION. ANTI-CARBON MISSILE DEPLOYED. PLEASE CHECK MASK INTEGRITY.
Again.
CAUTION. ANTI-CARBON MISSILE DEPLOYED.
Dj recoiled as he heard the word coming out from the hud, and the implications behind it.
The missile hissed.
Released something invisible.
A thin vapor rolled out, invisible by eyes.
Krish inhaled.
His body arched violently.
A scream ripped out of him—raw, broken, nothing heroic about it. It echoed off buildings, scraped the air itself.
DJ froze.
"What did you do?" he shouted. "Rony—what did you do to him?"
Rony didn't answer.
DJ felt himself moving.
Step by step.
Toward Krish.
Rony twisted DJ's wrist again, changed modes, and electricity cracked out in short brutal bursts, slamming into Krish's convulsing body.
DJ fought to get back the control but to no avail.
"Rony—stop. Stop!"
No response..
Just footsteps through water.
Just the sound of electricity.
Rony kept walking him forward.
DJ tried to take over his suit, but it didn't.
Every response, every micro-adjustment, gone from DJ's hands. This wasn't DJ in armor anymore. This was Rony, wearing him like an interface.
"Rony—" DJ said again. "Stop. Listen to me."
Nothing.
Rony walked.
Straight. No hesitation.
Krish was on his knees now, breath jagged, body twitching, rain dripping off his hair and down his face. Smoke clung low to the ground. Electricity still crawled faintly over his skin.
Rony didn't look at him.
He stared at the monitor.
Numbers. Waveforms. A processing graph that meant nothing to him anymore.
Something else pushed in.
Screams.
Metal tearing.
Building failing like dumplings.
People crying his name.
They came and went, ugly and fast.
Rony lifted DJ's leg and kicked.
Hard.
Krish flew, rolled across the wet ground, hit the far wall with a dull crack. DJ felt it in his bones even though it wasn't his choice.
"Rony, please—"
Another step forward.
A short burst of electricity. Krish convulsed, tried to push himself up, failed.
Rony closed the distance.
A fist clenched.
He punched Krish in the stomach.
Krish folded, spit and breath leaving him in a wet gasp. Before he could recover, a knee slammed into his face. Bone met metal. A sharp sound.
Krish staggered.
Rony grabbed his hair.
Pulled his head back.
Punched him straight in the face.
Once.
Twice. Flashed his eyes with a flashbank.
Then slammed his head into the wall.
Thud.
The concrete cracked.
DJ shouted his name again, voice breaking, but
Rony didn't even blink.
He dragged Krish a step, kicked him again, then looked right—at the ruined building, half-collapsed, rebar sticking out like broken ribs.
Rony grabbed Krish by the leg.
Swung.
Tossed him.
Krish hit the building hard, rolled, barely conscious.
Rony twisted his wrist.
Mode change.
Small energy blasts fired in quick succession. The wall gave way, heavy slabs falling down over Krish. Water soaked into the rubble. No dust. Just weight.
Rony stood there for a beat.
Then fired again.
More blasts. Breaking the pile down, smaller, tighter. He pushed rocks aside, digging him out instead of burying him.
DJ felt sick.
"What are you doing?" he whispered. "Rony… what are you doing…" Rony fired several energy blast at the pile of rubble, and than walked toward it, ready to dig him out.
A hand shot out of the rubble.
Grabbed DJ's wrist.
The weapon mechanism sparked and died as Krish's grip tightened. He pulled himself free, bloody, shaking, eyes still burning.
Rony reacted instantly.
Electricity surged again.
Krish screamed, body locking up, but Rony yanked him out anyway, dragged him across the ground, rain streaking red behind them.
Back to the center.
Rony lifted him—
Krish moved.
Fast.
He grabbed DJ by the chest, twisted, and slammed him back into the same wall he'd been smashed into earlier.
The wall shattered on contact.
He crashed through it and into the building beyond.
DJ screamed.
"RONY—STOP!"
The suit rose again.
Rony forced it upright.
Across from them, Krish staggered to his feet, barely standing now, one hand against the wall, chest heaving, eyes locked on them.
Water fell through the broken ceiling.
Two figures, wrecked and breathing.
And Rony, still in control, stared straight back at him.
Krish moved first.
A blur through rain and broken concrete, all instinct and anger. DJ didn't rush him. He waited. One breath. Half a second.
When Krish closed the gap, Rony controlled, dipped low and drove an electric punch straight up into his face.
The impact cracked the air.
Krish staggered back, sparks crawling over his skin, his vision swimming. Rony didn't slow down. The suit flowed into motion—punch after punch. Some crackled blue, others landed raw and heavy. Metal on bone. Bone on concrete. Flashes of light kept dizzying him.
Krish took them, barely staying upright.
On the last hit, he twisted, barely dodged, and slammed a punch into DJ's chest. The force sent DJ flying. He hit the far wall hard, the concrete spiderwebbing behind him.
Rony looked up.
Krish was on his feet his breath uneven.
Another missile formed in DJ's palm.
Anti-carbon.
It fired.
Krish sensed it late. He reached, grabbed for it, tried to fling it away—
It detonated inches from his face.
A dull blast. invisible vapor. Krish reeled back, eyes clouding, hands clawing at nothing.
DJ walked toward him.
No rush..
A kick sent Krish skidding out of the building and into the open street.
Above them, thunder cracked. A white flash split the sky. Drones sparked and dropped, rain pouring down again, heavier than before, washing the street clean.
DJ's HUD flickered.
Krish's vitals dipped..
Hard.
"Rony," DJ said, voice tight. "Whatever this is—stop. This is too far. Stop."
No answer.
Rony kept moving.
DJ twisted his damaged wrist. With a hiss, the familiar nozzle slid out—laser system.
"Rony," DJ said again. "Don't. You can't kill him. Stop."
The suit grabbed Krish's arm.
DJ braced himself—
The laser didn't fire.
Instead, the nozzle injected something straight into Krish's neck..
A hiss. A click.
DJ stared at the vitals.
They slowed.
Then steadied.
Krish's breathing evened out, chest rising and falling, the tremors fading..
Rony released him.
And then—everything loosened.
The suit went still. Control snapped back to DJ..
Game mode off.
The HUD dimmed.
Silence.
DJ turned, ready to explode—
The connection was gone.
Rony had cut himself out..
DJ stood there in the rain, staring at his own hands, shaking now that they were his again. He looked at Krish, unconscious, alive.
"I almost…" DJ whispered.
He didn't finish it, be couldn't even belive it.
He lifted Krish carefully, dragged him beneath the broken branches of a nearby tree, out of the rain. Set him down gently. Made sure he was breathing..
The hero deserved that much.
DJ straightened, looked once at the sky, then turned and walked away.
Inside the city—far from the wreckage, far from the rain-soaked street where gods had clashed—Roy stood alone with his drink.
The glass was cold in his hand. Ice clinked softly as thunder rolled outside. Floor-to-ceiling windows wrapped around the room, Mumbai spread beneath him like a restless organism—lights flickering, sirens distant, rain slashing sideways.
He stared out, his gaze calm as he stared out of the window.
Then it happened.
A surge—violent, lighting hit the city.
The city flared white.
Power screamed through the air. The windows buzzed. The flash was so bright it punched through his vision. Roy hissed, closed his eyes.
The light faded.
Silence followed. Heavy. Pressurized.
Roy blinked hard, eyes burning. When his vision cleared, his breath caught.
Someone was standing where the glass reflected his own image.
Black suit. Rain still dripping off it. Red LEDs glowing like coals.
DJ.
Roy froze.
No guards. No warning. No sound of entry.
Just him.
DJ stood on the other side of the glass—or maybe right there, Roy couldn't even tell anymore—staring straight at him. Those red eyes didn't flicker. Didn't blink.
Roy felt his mouth go dry.
This was it.
He actually came.
He really dare to.
Roy swallowed.
DJ tilted his head slightly, as if considering it. As if weighing how easy it would be.
For a heartbeat, the entire city felt like it was holding its breath with them.
Then DJ looked away.
He turned.
And walked off into the rain, vanishing as silently as he had come.
Roy sat there long after, his mind replaying what just happened. His hand was gripping the glass tightly, he slowly set the glass down—what was left of it.
Outside, the city wasn't calm.
Not even close.
Sirens multiplied. Power grids flickered back on in pieces. Helicopters cut through the clouds. Somewhere, people shouted, ran, pointed at the sky.
And Roy finally understood something he hadn't before.
This wasn't a kid. Not now. Not anymore.