And for the next ten days, the city stayed strangely calm. Krrish popped up again—this time near Ram Setu—pulling off some wild new move that saved a bunch of people. News channels ran the clips nonstop. The government announced an award for him, which he obviously didn't want, and they even decided to build another life-size statue.
Sakshi didn't care about any of that right now. She was in Dharavi, walking through narrow lanes with her camera hanging off her wrist. A kid kept tugging her sleeve, guiding her somewhere. He stopped near a two-foot metal pipe sticking out of the ground, cutting through the road, then sinking back underground. She crouched, pressed her ear to the ground, and heard water rushing inside.
In a cramped workshop nearby, an old man talked to her while wiping plaster dust off his arms.
" I run a small business of plaster and ceiling works. Water is the key supplement to my work. Without water I can't make anything. For twenty years me and my family have been making statues and other stuff using plaster. But in the last two months, there is not an ounce of water. Forget about making statues, we didn't have proper water to drink. In old times local taps were sufficient, and we have a small water pump, digging water from inside the ground. The taps now only start two times a day, and the long line of people waiting for water makes it even more difficult. People push past each other to get a bucket full of water, which even didn't feel the requirement of two. I tried to help but due to the summer, water has gone even deeper, and my water pumps aren't working anymore. We called the local authorities, but they said they are providing twenty four seven water to our area properly. They sent a team of men to check the water line, and water started coming, but it was too slow, water flow was like, someone was barely trying to give it to us."
A worker twisted a tap to show her. The pressure was pathetic. She snapped a photo.
" When did this problem start?" she asked.
" Three months ago, some local kids saw some people in black suits, checking the pipe lines. And they said that after that, the water shortage starts."
" Where were those suit guys where?"
The kid from earlier tugged her hand again. He led her through a half-blocked alley to a tall wall made of tin sheets. Police tape was stretched across it—single-use kind. She recognized it immediately.
" What are they doing in the disaster zone?" she muttered.
Beyond that makeshift wall lay the cratered remains of the battle site.
She walked to a side gate where a couple of military-looking guards stood watch. She didn't ask questions—just looked through the gap and took a few careful pictures before heading home.
Her apartment wall was already covered with clippings, photos, red strings, printouts—now she hammered a few more in. The whole thing looked like a spider had gone insane. New superhero sightings. The fake Krrish. Water shortages. The massive pipeline. The disaster zone. The gravity crater. The black-suit guys. A government project labeled "battle zone." Too many threads. Too many theories—aliens, government experiments, private companies, supernatural events.
One photo caught her eye. A man in a different suit, standing among the black-clad workers. He looked like the one giving orders. She zoomed in on her laptop, ran a quick enhancement, and the face came out clean enough.
She didn't even need Google.
She was meeting him soon .
She pulled out her phone.
" Hey, sups, there is a seminar happening in St Mary's College in a couple of days , right?" and on the other side of the phone Supriya, who was in her office, looked on the internet, and asked who she was looking for.
" Oh no one in particular, just a guy named Roy Shinghania." And hearing this, Supriya paused. She closed her laptop and said in a firm voice.
" No." Sakshi couldn't believe it when she heard it, so she asked again.
" Sups, what's wrong?"
" Do you know who Roy Shinghania is?"
" He is a businessman and founder of Horseman, right?" She asked, not understanding why she was denied.
" He much more. No matter what you are researching about him, good or bad, quit it." Said Supriya who looked a little tense.
" Why are you so tense, you are the ex-girlfriend of Krish." And hearing this, she calmed down, and reminded her.
" Listen Sakshi, I know you mean good, but this guy." and there was a hint or worry in his voice.
" This kind of thing can't be said casually, but! he is a very dangerous man, you should stay away from matters related to him, you understand?" She said, her voice having a little edge to it.
" Ok u understand, I'll stay away from it, but what happened that you have such a reaction?" And after hearing this she replied.
" A few years ago, when Sunday morning was on sale, many companies wanted to buy it, the prices were very high, and many were ready to bid, but they all stopped when Horseman entered the race. Those guys don't do business, they straight up kidnap you, giving you no choice but to do what they want. It was our fortune that, at that time, Mr Ramcharan stepped in, Raghav's father. His name and connection helped us a lot, otherwise things might be different." And after hearing this, Sakshi understands some things and much more.
" Those guys are big?" And she heard Supriya chuckling on the other side.
" They were three years ago, now they are giants, towering over us. Be glad that Mr Raghav has the president as his backing, otherwise, things might be different." And hearing they both cut the call, and think to herself, maybe not that soon.
And far away with Rony.
Rony's room looked like someone tried to build a lab inside a junk drawer. A big glass chamber sat in the middle, humming quietly. Inside, two tiny mechanical hands worked around a glowing blue liquid while a custom microscope blinked beside them. Rony watched with that weird "I'm calm but also solving the universe" face he got whenever he was focused. Every few seconds he scribbled something in his notepad, barely glancing down.
He pulled out a tiny sample, placed it on a glass plate, then rolled his chair across the room to a machine plastered with a crooked CAUTION: HEAT sticker. He slid the plate in, smacked the button, and turned toward the giant display on the wall.
The droplet glowed… dark red… then popped like a low-budget flashbang. The machine's door flew open with a sad clang.
Rony calmly wrote: explosive on heat.
His phone buzzed playing no ringtone.
He answered, still writing.
"Yeah?"
"Remind me again—whose dumb idea was it to build a secret lab in pitch dark?" DJ complained. He was clearly staring at something in his lair like it personally offended him.
"Mine, obviously," Rony said. "Not my fault you're scared of the dark. Also, if a secret base is bright and shiny, it's not really… secret. And you needed a place to hide all your questionable hobbies."
DJ groaned. "Anyway—did you see Sakshi? And my bike? Haven't seen either."
"Yeah, she said she's doing some actual responsible human work. Unlike you. And which bike? You have like five 'very important' ones."
DJ made a noise. "Yeah, ha-ha. I'm talking about the modded one. The work bike. And your 'nation-building' job at a Gucci store."
"It gives you an eighteen percent discount on your dates, which is the only reason you tolerate it."
"A vacation with Sakshi and my bike. And no sarcastic commentary from you. Dream life, man."
"Yeah, well, his brother would never let that happen."
DJ groaned louder. "Why is everyone scared of her brother? Why do people say his name like he's Voldemort?"
"If you actually went to college when the rest of us did, you'd know. Anyway—see that box I sent you? Wear the plate inside."
DJ eyed it suspiciously. "What is that?"
"Prototype heavy-shell bullet armor. Wear it."
He opened the box and pulled out a sleek black breastplate. After some muttering he strapped it on.
"Press the button," Rony said.
"Which—"
"Helmet. Put on the helmet I sent."
DJ found a new mask inside the box, metallic with a glass front over the eyes. Clean, sharp, futuristic. He slid it on and the HUD booted up with a faint hiss. The world tinted red. A 3D hologram of himself popped up to his left, along with outlines of everything around him.
"Whoa—what the—" DJ stared. "What is this thing?"
"Vision upgrade. Facial recognition, too."
DJ looked at Rony. Suddenly a whole panel of Rony's info hovered over him.
"It shows everything about the person you look at," Rony said proudly. "Stores it too. I wanted to add sonar, but the frequency messes with the therum reaction. So you're stuck with heat vision."
DJ glared. "What did I say about cameras in my costume?"
"That they could expose us. But come on—you think I wanna rely on hacked security cams to guide you? This is safer."
"What if someone hacks the suit?"
"No one's hacking it unless they're me. It's airtight."
DJ stared at the floating menus. "…Why does it have a Game mode option?"
"That came with the helmet. Anyway—think about the breastplate. And clearing your view."
DJ thought about it. Nothing.
"No, think harder. Like the plate is the main thing."
The armor rippled with a blue wave, spreading outward.
DJ jerked. "Yo—that looked sick. And warm. What is that?"
"My Nobel Prize, obviously. Now grab the next thing."
Inside the box sat a small round metal disc with a grinning devil emoji.
"Throw it," Rony said.
"Why?"
"Just throw."
DJ tossed it. Instantly a propeller snapped out, a tail rotor unfolded, and a cute glowing blue smile lit up.
"Meet the upgraded Third Eye," Rony said. "EMP-proof. Needs a software update, but your 3D port camera works with it. Gives you third-person view like a video game."
DJ blinked. "I swear you're gonna kill me."
"Maybe. Stand straight. Don't fall."
"Why—"
The drone's smile sharpened. A nozzle slid out. Before DJ could finish a swear, it fired a concentrated pulse straight at his chest.
The blast hit the armor—orange flash, loud thump—and bounced off. DJ's heart rate spiked on the HUD. He hit the ground like someone unplugged him.
"WHAT THE—ARE YOU INSANE!?" he shouted.
Rony was howling with laughter.
DJ ripped off the helmet and glared at the drone like he was about to punch it.
"That was FUN," Rony said between laughs.
"That was TRAUMA."
"That was a demonstration. Armor can tank Krrish-level hits. In theory. Bullets? Nothing. Blue means no damage, orange is minor, red is bad, just little worse than death I guess. Need more testing."
DJ stared. "More testing—ON ME!?"
"Well, the suit only works on living people. And if I die, who'll raise my kid?"
DJ chucked the helmet at the drone; it dodged casually.
"I could've died!"
"The armor would've saved you. Anyway—you didn't feel anything, right? Just the fall. Blast was clean."
DJ checked the breastplate. "…What's it made of?"
"Metal grade 3DM. A fiber in semi-liquid form. Used in films, shuttles, survival suits. I mixed the liquid sample with it. Boom—world's strongest fiber. If I had more, I'd build the first indestructible tank. Or car. Or human."
DJ rubbed his chest. "And that glow?"
Rony took a breath. "Okay, fine—the liquid in pure form explodes at iron's melting point. Yours is a bit safer because of Therum, but its molecules are tiny, heat frequency—"
"English."
"It absorbs heat. You felt it. When it explodes, the heat flash channels through the suit then vanishes. Blessing and curse. Too much heat at once and—well—it'll pop like firecrackers. Little smoke cloud. Nothing lethal. Unless someone shoots you with a cannon. That'd definitely launch you."
DJ stared at him, horrified.
"…Never do that stunt again."
"Sure, sure. Anyway—look at the last thing in the box."
DJ lifted a small rocket-shaped device in a glass case.
"What's this toy?"
"Laser."
"For what?"
"Grab the tungsten rod from your drawer."
"Why do you even have tungsten rods?"
Rony ignored that. DJ put the two-inch-thick rod upright on the table. Rony adjusted the rocket device toward it.
"Gloves. Extinguisher. Helmet on. It gets… intense."
DJ slid the helmet back on. "Do I wanna know why?"
"Nope."
He flicked the switch.
A red beam shot out—clean, deadly, bright. The tungsten melted instantly, dripping like candle wax, and the beam burned through the wall before Rony slammed it off.
"Cuts through anything," Rony said proudly. "Powered by magic water. Pull water. Good name, right? Pulls water, you bring the water—whatever, point is, miracle stuff."
DJ nearly shouted. "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!?"
"What? What happened?"
"You're making WAR WEAPONS! None of this is normal!"
"This is the future."
"Of WHAT? Mass murder? That laser sliced tungsten. You know how dangerous— And the liquid is LIMITED! You're not still planning the hero suit thing—"
"No. Not right now. Anyway—it's private tech until pull water goes public. And once it does, people will copy it. Maybe not day one, but day two for sure. Forget that—let's talk bikes."
DJ's frustration evaporated instantly.
"My bike. What did you do."
"I updated it. Liquid booster too. We should name it. We talked about this, didn't we?"
DJ didn't answer.
"And yes, I painted it."
He perked up more.
"Come over," Rony said. "It's Monday. You'll love it. Lowered center of gravity. Liquid boost instead of nitro. Speed of God."
DJ swallowed. "How fast?"
"Around 328."
"Km?"
"Miles."
DJ rode over so fast the wind filed a complaint. He hammered Rony's apartment bell until the door opened. Together they went down to the underground parking. In the back corner under a black sheet waited the beast.
DJ ripped the cover off.
Rony grinned. "Happy early birthday. And, uh—don't crash it."
Out on the long road, DJ sat on the bike, helmet on.
"You testing the speed?" Rony asked through comms.
"You said it'd go past 300 miles."
"Three-twenty-plus."
"If it beats the land record and I survive, I'm funding your next project."
"Deal. Safety button first. Keeps the bike stable. And if you want to stay alive, TURN at the end. Track's too short for top speed."
"How long to hit 250?"
"Six seconds."
"And brakes?"
"Custom. Best ones I ever made. But if you slam them, the bike stops like it hit a wall. You'll go flying unless you lock in."
"Lock in?"
"Feet on shifters. Button on left."
DJ pressed it; his boots clamped in place.
He took a breath, twisted the throttle.
The engine roared awake.
"Nice sound," DJ muttered.
"Yeah—if you wanna wake the city. Once the booster's on, it goes quiet."
"Cool. Then I'm gone."
He released the clutch. The bike leapt forward like it wanted to escape reality. Wind tore past him. At 180 miles he flipped the booster switch.
The exhausts flared orange. Speed shot upward—230… 260… 290… the screen flashed warnings. By 300 the bike started shaking like it was angry at physics.
He hit the brakes.
The bike STOPPED instantly. His body lurched up but his locked feet saved him. Smoke curled around him. When it cleared, the bike tipped, taking him with it. Both tires were half-melted. The air smelled like burnt rubber and regret.
Rony sighed. "Tires are gone."
DJ groaned. "Yeah, I figured."
"Should've used the liquid in the tires too."
"The back one had less pressure. That's why it shook. We need solid tires. Or water-pressure ones."
"Great idea. Call the dealer. Get a dozen. I need them."
DJ rubbed his face. "Anything else?"
"Yeah. Drop the bike in the garage."
DJ stared at the smoking wreck.
Sighed.