COFFEE & COCAINE ( The Unforgotten Bloosm)

The shimmering skyline of the city blurred behind the floor-to-ceiling glass of OneSky Tower. Inside the topmost floor, silence loomed, heavy and tight like the moment before a storm. The boardroom, with its long table and gold-edged documents, stood still — waiting.

Dakshinayan Shrivastava stood near the wide window, his tall figure wrapped in the dark elegance of a tailored black suit. His eyes weren't looking at the glittering city anymore. They were focused inward — something felt off.

The door burst open.

Sahil Singh entered, breathless, his voice low but urgent. "Sir... Dr. Aagartha Kashyap has been taken."

There was no dramatic reaction. No widened eyes or furious gasp.

Just silence. Stillness.

The kind of stillness that comes before cities fall and thrones collapse.

Nayan didn't turn around. He merely closed his eyes for a moment and whispered, "How?"

Sahil stepped forward. "After the incident with your brother, she stayed back to finish formalities. On her way to the parking lot, someone followed her. Masked. Dressed in black. We lost CCTV feed for 2.5 minutes. When it came back—she was gone. Witnesses say she resisted. He used a syringe."

A long pause.

Then Nayan turned — slowly.

His face was blank, but his eyes — they weren't. They burned.

"And my brother?"

"Safe. Our team arrived seconds before the Italian syndicate's men entered the emergency wing. We neutralized them. But they were close, sir. Very close."

Nayan's jaw tightened. He walked across the room and pressed a button on his desk. The windows darkened, and a digital map blinked into view — the hospital, the café, surrounding blocks, red-pinned threats.

"Who knew she'd be there?" he asked, voice cold as steel.

"Only your internal circle. And the Italians. Somehow... they tracked her."

"They weren't after her. Not initially. But now?" He exhaled. "Now she's leverage."

He turned to Sahil.

"Activate Code Black. Lock down all city exit points for the next six hours. I want every private airstrip, every highway, every underground passage guarded. No one leaves."

Sahil nodded. "And the woman, sir?"

Nayan's voice lowered. "I want her found before midnight. Use street tech. Unregistered cams. Every dark web tracker we own. And if any Italian syndicate member touches her..."

He didn't finish the sentence.

He didn't have to.

"And what about the university?" Sahil asked quietly. "Dr. Aagartha teaches there. And your brother... he's still enrolled."

Nayan's eyes narrowed. "That university brought her into our world. We'll deal with that later. For now — pull Uttaraayan out of public records. He never existed."

Sahil nodded. "Yes, sir."

Nayan walked to the side bar and poured himself a glass of water. His hand trembled slightly — the only sign of emotion.

"They touched something sacred, Sahil. She was not meant to be part of this war."

Sahil hesitated. "Do you think she remembers you, sir?"

A shadow crossed Nayan's face.

"No. And that's what kept her safe. Until now."

He stared at the swirling ice in his glass.

"She was never supposed to bleed for my sins."

For a moment, the warlord disappeared, and a man stood in his place. A man who once watched her from across a garden and dared to hope.

Then the mask returned.

He turned to Sahil one final time.

"Call the underground unit. I want all Italian syndicate safehouses in this city burned by dawn. And Sahil..."

"Yes, sir?"

"I don't care how many die. But bring her back. Alive."

As the order echoed through the shadows of OneSky Tower, the city braced itself.

The storm had been unleashed.

"Let the ghosts of war rise again… for her."

---

Scene opens – 12:47 AM

Location: Inside a moving black armored SUV, speeding through the darkened streets of the city

The mood inside the SUV was silent but not calm.

Dakshinayan Shrivastava sat with his fingers laced together, elbows resting on his knees, his gaze locked out the window. But he wasn't seeing the buildings blurring past — he was calculating, planning, remembering.

His jaw clenched. The storm had broken inside him. And now it would bleed into the streets.

Sahil, his assistant, sat opposite him with a glowing tablet in his hands, voice low and steady.

Sahil:

"Sir, the trace ended at Sector 14's abandoned textile mill. The van turned off all surveillance feeds the minute it entered the no-zone. Our satellites caught them just before."

He flipped the tablet to show a grainy still. A shadowed figure carrying a limp woman.

Aagartha.

Nayan's eyes narrowed.

Nayan (coldly):

"Status on Uttaraayan?"

Sahil:

"He's in our underground medical chamber. Stable now. Two ribs cracked. Internal bleeding contained. Security tripled."

A slow breath. Nayan tilted his head.

Nayan:

"And the one who injected her?"

Sahil:

"Dead. Before we reached him. Shot twice in the chest. Syndicate's signature."

There was a long pause.

Then Nayan whispered — as if to the silence itself —

"They touched what's mine."

He looked at Sahil.

"I want every hidden weapon loaded. No negotiations. If she has a scratch — burn that mill with them in it."

Sahil:

"Understood. SOT team is on standby. Night Crawlers already deployed around the perimeter. We're bringing all assets."

Nayan nodded once.

His thumb flicked over the screen of his encrypted device — sending the signal that would awaken the most dangerous unit under his control: The Chaturanga Grid.