A far away in America, a sleek limo glided into the driveway of a big Virginia mansion, its iron gates catching the glow of floodlights. Luxury cars lined the grounds, their owners gathered inside for a somber memorial. In the grand hall, a portrait of a man in a military uniform–Reed Carlton—stood draped with a folded American flag. Men and women in black murmured, their eyes tracking the limo as it stopped.
Carl emerged in a wheelchair, sunglasses shielding his gaze, pushed by a woman in black, her face veiled. Whispers followed, some approached with condolences, but Carl ignored them, his eyes focused front. He wheeled into the hall, where his father, General Charles Carlton, sat at the center, surrounded by mourners. A man leaned in to whisper, informing him that his eldest son is here, and Charles turned, his eyes distant, looking in the direction of the main entrance.
By evening, the guests had left, leaving only Carl, Charles, the veiled woman, and a few cleaners.
The woman beside Carl lifted her veil, revealing Cecelia, her expression blank as always. She stood silently as Carl wheeled closer to his father. The empty hall echoed with tension. Charles broke the silence, his voice frail but sharp.
" Why didn't you come to your brother's ceremony in Washington?"
Carl's face remained impassive and calm.
"I was there." Carl senior didn't react, and said lightly.
"My eyes must have failed me, then." His gaze dimmed, probing.
" I'm still waiting for you to make a medicine to cure them—or me, I suppose."
Carl stood, abandoning the wheelchair, his legs steady. Charles's eyes widened, surprise flickering before he hides it.
"You can walk?" He asked.
"You can see," Carl stated, his voice cold. Charles's mouth tightened, realization dawning.
"The medicine worked, didn't it?" Charles said, his voice still calm, but there was a hint of concealment in his tone.
Carl's eyes, hidden behind sunglasses, glistened with suppressed rage. He strode to his father's wine cabinet, pulling out a dusty bottle.
" Remember when Reed left for his first military camp? You gave him this, said you'd open another if he came back in a coffin." Charles's tone was light, detached.
"An old Carlton tradition. A father gifts his son wine for a new journey, or its end." Carl poured a glass, overfilling it, wine spilling onto the oak table. And seeing this, old Charles said.
" You don't even know how to pour properly."
Carl's voice was low, but slightly edged.
"You never taught me, did you?"
"What need does a disabled man have for etiquette?" Charles retorted, his words cutting.
Carl pushed the glass forward.
" Then why don't you pick it up, then." old Charles's hands trembled, immobile in his lap, his wheelchair betraying his frailty.
"Oh, sorry," Carl said, his voice little mocking.
"I forgot." He poured another glass for himself, raising it.
"Guess Grandfather wasted his time teaching a Disabled, etiquettes."
Charles's eyes hardened.
" The world's a strange place, Carl. A man born unable to feed himself lives, thriving, while a strong son, full of passion for his country, dies in a foreign land protecting strangers. I'm proud of Reed. My father would be proud of the man I raised." And the old slowly, but steadily, moved his hand with discomfort, and grabbed the over filled glass with difficulty, and took a shaky sip, slipping some in progress. And after taking a sip, he dropped the glass on the floor, and placed his hand back, and looked at his son. His eyes said, I'm not you. Carl's grip tightened on the glass, rage burning behind his sunglasses.
"Then how do you feel losing such a proud son?"
"It's heartbreaking," Charles said softly. "The only thing I loved, gone." And Carl's chest heaved in anger.
" Six years, Father. Six years since we last met, six years since I left the house." And Carl looked at the glass of vine in front of him.
" You remember why I left, right?" And old Charles didn't reply, and Carl continued.
" You called me a failure, said I'd never be Reed, your golden son, the soldier you molded. A guy who didn't even pass the college exam, whose only life achievement was being a part of a family full of army veterans and oil giants. What makes him special, dad what? Is it because he can walk, or can defecate without the help of others."
" He is a hero-" And he couldn't hold it anymore.
"Cecelia, do it." Charles glanced back, startled.
"Cecelia, you're still al—" Before he could finish, Cecelia approached, her face unreadable, and pressed a pillow over his face. Charles struggled, his shaking hand slamming the bell on his chair, its shrill ring piercing the silence. Cecelia's expression cracked, tears streaming as she pressed harder. The bell faded, then stopped. She dropped the pillow, collapsing to the floor, sobbing.
Carl's voice was soft.
"I'm sorry, Cecelia. I couldn't hold back. I should have given you a chance to speak, don't feel sad for him, he's the one who caused you this, if it wasn't for him, you would not have to suffer such a torture."
He patted her shoulder, his eyes fixed on his father's lifeless form, eyes wide open. Carl didn't close them.
A maid rushed in, freezing at the sight. "Cecelia, your replacement's here," Carl said, patting her again.
"Finish the job." Cecelia stood up, stumbling a bit, she faced the maid. A scream rang out, followed by the crack of bone and a heavy thud. Carl sipped his wine, then hurled the glass to the floor, shattering it. He stood, sunglasses glinting.
"Let's catch a flight to Mumbai."
Cecelia followed, her steps heavy, as they left the mansion.
And far away in Mumbai, Krishna was in a restaurant named -Hindi Dragon, in a chef's uniform, cooking food skilfully and fast with both hands simultaneously. And around him some people were gathered filming him, when a waiter came, informing him something.
" What happened?" Asked Krishna, placing the cooking utensils aside.
" The boss wants to see you."
" The boss?" He asked, a little puzzled but still followed him.
And soon he led him towards the dining area, where all the guests and customers were. Krishna saw his boss, who was talking to a person in a chair, whose back was facing him, and in front of that man was a woman, whose origin seems to be from Russia.
Krishna felt something off, but moved nonetheless. And after reaching there, he clearly saw the man sitting there. He was a foreigner, at least half, and could see some resemblance. He looked at the woman, and she was looking back at him as well.
And just as they both were calculating each other the manager spoke up. He introduced the man sitting first.
" Krishna meet Mr Charles Carlton Jr, he'll be our new boss." And then Krishna was introduced to Krishna.
" And Mr Carl this is Krishna, our best chef, the Noodles you liked so much, is his mastery, he has the making of a great chef." And after a few more words, Carl looked at Krishna, and presented his hand. And Krishna subconsciously grabbed it, and they both shook hands.
" I hope it will be a pleasure cooperating with each other, and by the way I really liked your noodles." And he gives him a small smile, and Krishna also responds in kind.
" Ahh,, Thank you sir." And seeing this, Carl waved it off.
" Call me Carl, we are not that old, and by the way, meet Cecelia, she is a very strong woman and my bodyguard." and Krishna looked at her again, but didn't react much, and said hello as a greeting, and took his hand back. And after a small talk, they left the restaurant, and sat in a car. And Carl asked Cecelia.
" What do you think?" and Cecelia in response shook her head.
" Well, the food was good at least." And Carl leaned back.
" Let's meet Dr Mehra then, his son was a big disappointment." And he looked at his hand, and then at a small gift box in front of him.
And with Rohit he was in the lab, looking at some files, when her daughter came informing someone has come to see you. And hearing this he asked who? And Sakshi replied in a casual voice.
" A hot guy with a hot chick." And Rohit sighs for that, her daughter is beyond him.
He pushed the table he was on, his rolling chair moving backwards, and after looking at the monitor one more time, he headed out, and in the waiting room of their new house, he saw a figure in a wheelchair and a woman who seemed dangerous.
" Mr Charles, it's a pleasure to meet you." And Carl, who was looking in another direction, smiled.
" Call me Carl, Dr, Mehra. And it's a pleasure as well. I've long heard of your name,your medicine formulas do wonder" And Rohit sat down in front of him, and looked at his appearance clearly. And seeing him looking at him, Carl explained.
" It's an old genetic defect Dr Mehra, it happens in our family, mine just came earlier. I spend my entire life looking for a way to cure myself."
" And that leads you to hear?"
" No, I came here to ask about the problem at hand, UN has a delusion that we both can perfect the Anti Krish formula." and after hearing this, Rohit raised his eyebrows.
" You don't believe we can."
" No, I believe we can, but that's not why they form the committee, do they dare to launch a nuclear bomb on him, if they had a fifty percent chance of success they'll just jump over and cry. I'm here for something else, and I bring a gift." And he looked at Cecelia who brought forward a small gift box, and Rohit took it, and placed it on the coffee table. And Cecelia handed him a folder as well.
" That's the report of all the labs legal or illegal that's currently doing the Meta-gene test. Those are the preliminary data, for the one we know of." And Rohit toured the folder, page by page.
" None of them has any substantial results, but their progress is commendable. The UN wants you to restart the Meta-gene research, with me and my team." And after hearing this, he looked up, and said lightly.
" I think UN is forgetting I live in India, not America." and Carl understood what he meant.
" Don't worry Dr Mehra, UN has taken care of that, the lab will be in Mumbai, my team will assist you, and I'll be just a supervisor, checking once in a while." and after hearing this, Rohit asked.
" Does the UN not care about my opinion if I agree or not?"
" No, they do. This is the subject of the next talk, they sent me to inform you earlier, even though you might have already received their letter." and Rohit didn't reply, just siped through the folder.
" Anything else then? You want to know something?" Asked Rohit when he saw him not leaving.
" Nothing just curious, would Krish give his blood?" and Rohit raised his eyebrows.
" What do you think?" And Carl understood, and with a smile, he left the building, leaving a gift and folder behind. And outside, he looked at his phone, and through his gift, he marked the location, a gift acting like a beacon.
" Well, the steps are going according to plan, just wait for the climax." And puts away the phone.