Chapter 6
The final day of shooting 'Sultan of the Streets' didn't end with a champagne toast or a grand party. It ended with a weary silence under the flickering streetlights of a Delhi bypass. As the Director shouted the final "Wrap!" of the production, the crew began the mechanical process of packing up. There was no joy, only the collective relief of a group that had survived a war zone.
Jai stood by the edge of the set, watching Aryan climb into his luxury SUV without sparing a single glance at the crew he had tormented for months.
[ TARGET: ARYAN ]
[ Current State: Smoldering Resentment (100%) ]
[ Future Intent: Planning a PR smear campaign against Jai. ]
Jai turned away. He didn't need his power to know that Aryan was going to try and bury him. He could feel it in the cold air. Instead, he walked toward Sunil, who was staring at the final shot on his monitor—a close-up of Jai's eyes, filled with a grief so profound it made the neon lights of the background look like fading stars.
"It's done, Jai," Sunil said, his voice barely a whisper. "I've sent the hard drives to the edit suite in Mumbai. I'm going to supervise the cut myself. Malhotra won't be allowed within ten feet of the edit room."
"Thank you, Sunil Sir," Jai said, offering a respectful nod.
"Don't thank me yet," Sunil warned, looking at the distant lights of the city. "The industry has a way of swallowing 'accidents.' When the posters come out, Aryan's face will be ten times larger than yours. You might not even be credited in the trailer. Are you ready for that?"
Jai smiled—a calm, knowing smile that made him look far older than twenty-one. "Let them have the posters, Sir. I'm interested in the hearts. When the lights go down in the theater, no one looks at a poster."
Jai took his small bag and headed toward the metro station. He was leaving the world of artificial lights and returning to the "Slice of Life" that grounded him.
He reached his home in the middle of the night. The narrow lane in his middle-class colony was quiet, save for the barking of a stray dog. He climbed the stairs to their small second-floor apartment, the scent of old books and mothballs greeting him as he opened the door.
He found his father, Professor Ishwar, sitting at the dining table. A single lamp was lit, and the Professor was meticulously correcting a stack of Urdu poetry assignments.
[ TARGET: PROFESSOR ISHWAR ]
[ Health: Stable but Fragile ]
[ Emotion: Silent Pride (92%) ]
[ Hidden Truth: He sold his antique watch to pay for Jai's travel expenses this month. ]
The Metadata hit Jai like a physical punch. He looked at his father's bare wrist, then at the tired lines around his eyes. This was the "Dark Truth" of his reality—his father was sacrificing his last dignity to fuel Jai's dream, unaware that Jai had already "lived" a life of fame and thrown it all away.
"You're late," Ishwar said, not looking up. "Did the 'Sultan' finally find his streets?"
"The shoot is over, Papa," Jai said, sitting across from him. He reached out and placed his hand over his father's. "And I'm home."
"Good. Perhaps now you can help your sister with her entrance exams. She's been struggling with the logic section," the Professor said, though his hand squeezed Jai's back with a strength that belied his age.
For the next two weeks, Jai lived the life of a ghost. He woke up at 5 AM to help his mother with the household chores. He spent his afternoons at the local library, reading scripts and using his Critic's Eye to analyze the "Artistic Value" of every classic play he could find. He stayed away from the internet, ignoring the leaked stills of the movie and the gossip columns that were already praising Aryan's "intense transformation."
But the supernatural mark—the Kalank—on his wrist wouldn't let him rest. Every time he slept, he saw the "Percentages of Fate." He saw the movie's success climbing, but he also saw a dark, growing shadow over his family.
One evening, while walking back from the market with a bag of groceries, Jai saw a black sedan parked near their gate. A man in a sharp suit stood by the car, looking out of place in the dusty lane.
[ TARGET: ANONYMOUS AGENT ]
[ Affiliation: Apex Films Legal Team ]
[ Current Intent: Delivery of a 'Non-Disclosure' and 'Non-Compete' Agreement. ]
Jai's blood turned cold. They were moving faster than he expected.
"Mr. Jai Vardhan?" the man asked, holding out a thick envelope. "Mr. Malhotra and the studio heads have sent over a few 'standard' documents. In light of the budget... discrepancies... they feel it's best if you sign these before the trailer launch. It ensures you won't speak to the media about the set environment."
Jai looked at the envelope. He focused his Eye on the document through the paper.
[ DOCUMENT METADATA ]
[ Clause 14: Jai Vardhan waives all rights to 'Best Debut' or 'Supporting Actor' awards. ]
[ Clause 22: Jai Vardhan cannot sign another film for 24 months without studio permission. ]
[ Hidden Impact: This will effectively kill your career before it starts. ]
Jai didn't take the envelope. He looked the man in the eye.
"Tell Mr. Malhotra that a 'Stain' doesn't disappear just because you cover it with paper," Jai said, his voice echoing in the quiet street. "He has his silence. I have my performance. We don't need any more contracts."
"Mr. Malhotra warned me you might be difficult," the agent said, his aura turning a threatening crimson. "He told me to remind you that your father is a government employee. It would be a shame if an 'anonymous tip' about his finances reached the university board."
The "Dark Truth" of the industry had finally reached Jai's doorstep. They weren't just threatening his career anymore; they were threatening his sanctuary.
Jai felt a surge of the old darkness—the "Villain" he used to be. The Kalank on his wrist pulsed with a cold, violet light. He leaned in close to the agent, the "Zone" of his presence making the man step back in fear.
"Go back to your office," Jai whispered. "And tell them that if they touch a single hair on my father's head, I won't just leak the budget. I'll leak the souls of everyone in that boardroom. I have the Eye for the truth, and I promise you, they aren't ready for what I can see."
As the car sped away, Jai stood in the dark, the bag of groceries heavy in his hand. He looked up at the window of his apartment, where his father was still grading papers, oblivious to the war Jai was fighting for him.
[ MISSION UPDATED: PROTECT THE FAMILY ]
[ SUCCESS PROBABILITY: 62% ]
[ CURRENT STATUS: THE WAR HAS BEGUN ]
Jai walked up the stairs, his face a mask of calm. He had twenty days until the trailer launch. Twenty days to turn a "Stain" into a masterpiece, and twenty days to make sure the "Sultans" of the industry learned the price of threatening a man who had already died once.