SP Sharma moved with the slow and deliberate precision of a man who had been in situations like this far too many times than he could count.
His eyes swept the room once, cold and calculating, before he bent to Rajendra's battered briefcase and opened the brass latches. From within, he drew out a large jute sack, the kind that farmers use to carry grain to the wholesale market.
Its texture was rough and frayed along the edges, smelling faintly of old storage. The sight of it made Danny's stomach clench until it felt like a muscle ball had formed inside.
For Rajveer and Rajendra this was not the product of a sudden, unplanned outburst.
This was preparation. Every action, every tool had been thought out before the night even began. They had come with the intention of ending a life. Maybe it was him they had intended for, maybe they kept the sack as an option to deal with any unwanted witness. Either way, the intent was clear, and it was frightened Danny.
"Raju, hold this for me," SP Sharma said, his voice level and measured, as if he were discussing something as ordinary as packing supplies.
Rajendra's hands trembled slightly as he unfolded the sack's mouth and kept it open. His earlier swagger seemed to be draining out of him like air from a leaking tyre. Murder, when it moved from words to action, was something altogether different. His throat bobbed as he swallowed.
"Are you sure, Rajveer? We could think of… I mean, maybe we can make a different story this time."
SP Sharma's head turned slowly towards him, eyes narrowing with the weight of a silent warning.
"The boy is a threat. He knows names. He knows our involvement. He knows the way we work. Would you rather spend the rest of your life rotting in prison? Tell me, what story could replace the truth he carries?"
Danny twisted violently in their grip, the fabric of his cleaner's uniform tearing under the strain. His voice came out ragged but fuelled by anger. "You won't get away with this. People will want answers. Kanika will…"
"Kanika will believe exactly what I tell her to believe," Sharma cut in with an icy calm that froze the moment solid. He pushed Danny's head down sharply, forcing him toward the open mouth of the sack. "She will trust her father when he explains you ran away. Couldn't bear the grind of poverty any longer. A coward's escape."
Sharma's gloved hand shoved a bundle of foul smelling rags into Danny's mouth. They tasted of damp cloth and old oil, the stench making his stomach heave.
"Rajendra. Bring The injection. Now."
From the breast pocket of his shirt, Rajendra produced a small glass vial filled with clear liquid. His movements were brisk but not entirely steady as he fitted the needle and pressed the plunger to release a bead of the substance into the air. Then, without looking Danny in the eye, he drove the needle into his back. The effect was swift and absolute. Danny's muscles lost their strength. His fury, his struggle, his shouts collapsed into slack stillness.
The jute rubbed against his skin as they forced him inside. It was rough and smelled of old mustard seeds, the scent clinging thickly in the air. Darkness closed over him so completely that the space around him felt smaller than a coffin. Each breath came shallow and laboured, the fabric closing around his face. He heard muffled voices above and felt the lift as they carried him.
"Rajendra towards the service elevator," Sharma's voice ordered, each syllable placed with care. "And make sure nothing we touched is left uncleaned."
The descent in the elevator seemed to last forever. The sack's weight shifted as they moved, his ribs sending sharp flares of pain every time they jarred against each other. He forced himself to remember each sound, each scent, the faint hum of the machinery, the echo of their footsteps.
The boot of Rajendra's white Ambassador creaked open. Danny felt himself lowered inside, the jute thudding against the spare tyre. The metallic tang of engine oil mixed with the musty odour of old newspapers.
"Drive normally," Sharma instructed. "No sudden moves. No rush. We are two friends, enjoying the night nothing else."
The car rolled forward, its engine purring low. Muffled by the steel around him, Danny caught fragments of their conversation between the rumbles of the road.
"…warehouse still empty since the closure…"
"…current strong enough this time of year…"
"…no trace left behind, nothing at all…"
Every word was another weight pressing down on him.
The warehouse on the bank of the Pureflow River appeared like something abandoned by both man and time. The moonlight showed its walls streaked with rust, its broken windows like hollow eyes. Machinery long dead lay scattered, casting long shadows that twitched with the movement of the river's reflection.
When they dragged him out of the boot, his legs failed him entirely. Cold air hit his face, stinging the places where skin had split. The smell of the river mingled with the stench of mould and rotting wood.
"Please," Danny croaked through the fibres in his mouth. "My mother… she needs me. She's already lost so much."
"Your mother will believe what her night friend tell her to," Sharma replied, his voice neither cruel nor kind. It was simply final. "A son's tragic end, following his father into the water. The kind of story people nod at and forget."
He added, almost as an afterthought, "And Rajendra and I will be sure to… keep her company. Every night. After all we are her night friends." The satisfaction in his tone made the words heavier than any threat. His laugh bounced off the empty walls, lingering too long. "Let me guess she never told you about us." Rajveer said laughing aloud shamelessly.
Rajendra appeared from the dark with rope coiled in his hand and a crowbar that looked as if it had been resting here for decades. "Scream as much as you can, boy. Makes it pleasurable for us."
They tied him to a thick pillar, the rope biting deep into raw skin. Blood ran down from his wrists. His left eye was swollen near shut from Rajendra's earlier punch.
The warehouse smelled of rust, dust, and mildew. Water leaked through the ceiling and dripped into black puddles on the floor. Broken conveyor belts wound through the shadows like frozen serpents.
"Your father had the same stubborn streak," Sharma said, pacing in front of him. "Even with the truth staring at him, he would not stop talking about justice."
"What did you do to my dad?" Danny forced the words past blood and cloth.
"Exactly what is about to happen to you," Rajendra said laughing and, lifting the crowbar. "The same scene, only with a new actor."
The first blow struck his ribs, pulling a scream from deep in his chest. The second broke something in his shoulder. The third filled his mouth with blood.
"This is for the trouble you've caused," Sharma said before taking his turn. Each strike was placed with a practised cruelty, aimed to maim but not to kill.
"Have I had enough fun?" Rajendra asked, though it was less a question and more a statement of inevitability.
Danny's body was crumbling, but his voice still found the strength to rasp, "Go to hell." he muttered under his breath.
The next blow to his head almost sent him to the other world. Darkness swelled and faded. When it cleared, they were untying him. His body hit the ground like a discarded sack of grain.
"Time to swim," Rajendra muttered, voice quieter now.
They hauled him across the cracked concrete toward the river. The moonlight skated on the water, making it look alive. The current murmured like something ancient.
"Any last words?" Sharma asked without a flicker of interest.
Danny had no chance to answer before he was lifted and thrown. The splash was loud, then instantly swallowed by the river.
"Release him Now," Sharma said.
"Shouldn't we be sure of his death?" Rajendra asked.
"We will watch from there," Sharma replied, pointing to a big rock on the bank.
They stood, watching the surface for any sign. Seconds passed. Then they saw something. Not the boy they had thrown, but something else.
An Asura.
****************************************************
Like it ? Add to library!
If you like my work please support with Power Stones
Contact : Telegram: SHAKTIMAAN2003