Prakash ran all he could, as fast as he could to his car and started engine. On a silent Chennai street, his car skidded through, rushing as he felt that he had finally gotten his tabs on the person who had been wreaking havoc in the professional lives of both him and Maya for a considerable amount of time now.
There were no cars and yet he was speeding through as if a glimpse of light could make the mysterious killer disappear.
Pritam placed his phone on the table nearby, and jumped on the bed with his fat belly pressing against the bed. The bed frame creaked a little. “Amazing,” he repeated.
For Pritam, that has been the case for him. He never commits a bout of serious crime, yet he becomes a fan of any serial killer or any goon who goes about killing people in the utmost stylish, fashionable way.
He started to slowly snore a little, reciting an old Tamil song which has always been one of his favorites.
Beside his little old Nokia handphone was his gun. He opened his eyes and looked at his gun again, looking at it peculiarly. He decided to take the gun, and slowly caressed it. He had hassled and parried for the gun his whole life.
It took him five years to gain proper confidence from the don to be able to get a gun for his own usage. However, the only time he ever used the gun was in an old shack on a rainy day sometime bag.
He was nothing but someone who does what he is asked to do. It was heavily raining, and the meeting took place in an old building that is just waiting for its ruins. All of them were met while making their way to the meeting. Drugs were being distributed, and Pritam listened to the instructions carefully.
“Pritam bhai,” the don stood up and put his hands around Pritam’s shoulders. He felt a surge of importance.
“You asked for something,” he said.
Pritam felt a prickling sensation on his tummy, and he looked down. The don was pointing a black gun right at Pritam’s ribs. He pressed them further, Pritam could hear the creaking sound of the trigger about to be pulled off.
“Boss, but I didn’t do anything,” he said.
“Take it,” the don said.
“What?” he asked back.
“I said take it,” the don pressed the gun against Pritam’s ribs again. That’s when Pritam knew what it meant. He was getting the gun that he had always been asking from the don.
Pritam took the gun.
“It’s fully loaded, use it carefully,” the don told Pritam.
As the don wore his coat and started walking out the small room in which the meeting took place, a gunshot sound reverberated in the house. In an instinctive reaction, the don, who is at the door, drew out his own gun, and took cover behind the walls, starring angrily at Pritam.
“You mother…,” the don started.
Pritam looked blur. He was still standing, and the gun was still in his hands, but he had not released any shot, he was merely looking at his gun. The don knew what was going on.
“You lucky bastard,” the don said.
“You can’t choose a better time to get a gun. It’s police idiot, go downstairs and take cover. And shoot any police dick that enters this place,” the don told him sternly.
Pritam didn’t know hoe to be cautious. He walked his big fat body down and saw, from the top floor, a hoard of police cars perched in front of the building, many aiming for a shot, and many more seemingly prepare to enter.
A little fear triggered inside him, but he was rather more excited with the prospect of being involved in something important this time. At least, now, with a gun in his hand, he matters.
He took hide at the ground floor, at a corner that he realized was the darkest in the whole building, but a corner corresponding very well with the entrance into the building. Faint gunshots could already be heard around. Pritam realized he couldn’t be aware all the time regarding who is where. He could only keep his eyes on the entrance, and gear up for whichever police officer walks through it.
Pritam closed his ears to help his concentrate from the surrounding noise, and then saw two figures entering through the door, each with a gun in their hands. He knew what he had to do. He took his fingers off his ears, and aimed. He never shot before. He never aimed before. But he had to shoot. And he did.
All he saw was the figure crashing on the floor, and letting out a scream, holding her legs. It was a woman. It was not someone with a dick.
“Maya!” There was a guy nearby. He shouted that word. That must be her name. A couple of Pritam’s friends covered him up and the shooting escalated. But he never got another piece of the action.
Pritam was arrested, and that was how he knew Prakash, who was a normal inspector back then. This was two years ago.
Now he is in a special branch, working for a lady who is the police chief. All Pritam knows is that the police chief is one hot lady. He rubbed his belly, and let out a burp.
He heard a sound, and his house door sprang open. “Who is that?” he asked, still with his face against the pillow, refusing to get up and have a look. “Who?” he asked again.
There was no answer from whoever or whatever that opened the door. Pritam finally got himself to sit and up and have a look for himself. There is a person, but someone whose face cannot be seen in the darkness of night. But there the person is, standing silently at the door.
Pritam looked silently at him. “What are you, a saint?” Pritam asked. The person had a beard. Pritam’s face reaction changed. This is something else altogether.
Prakash got down from his car, and there were already police lights flashing around the place. Maya looked worn out, worryingly worn out that she had ever looked.
“How many?” he asked.
“Four, four freaking dead bodies,” she said.
“This is getting insane,” he added. He knew he had missed the killer.
“All the same?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said.
Wrapped around with a warm cloth in the middle of the chilly night, sitting at a corner, was Yuva. “How is he?” Prakash asked. “Horrible,” she was being very honest. These were not good times.
“Including Priyanka, with these four dead at this freaking dumb street here, it has been five people tonight alone. What the hell is going on man?” she asked, increasingly frustrated.
“Raj!” Prakash called after the forensic expert, who was busy looking at the bodies.
“I know Prakash. There’s ever going to be only one answer. No external damage. Only brain damage, all internal. I have to tell you nobody invented a killing method such as this, as far as I know. Unless it involves something beyond human,” Raj said, sighing.
“But you have not examined these people at the labs yet,” Prakash exclaimed.
“I know when I see them by now Prakash, this has been going on for two months now,” he added.
Prakash sighed and turned around, looking at Yuva, who was hugging himself in the cold. He looked at him, and then at Maya. Maya knew what he meant.
“Yuva,” Maya called out. Teary-eyed and shivering, he looked at her. “We need to bring you under our custody,” she said.
These are very bad times indeed.