The ancient spires of Somnath Temple stood silhouetted against the crimson hues of dawn. The holy grounds exuded serenity, the waves of the Arabian Sea crashing gently against the nearby shore. But this peace was a fragile illusion—smoke coiled ominously on the horizon, and the air carried an unsettling tension.
Bhima Mishra arrived at the outskirts of the temple complex, his breaths sharp and quick from the long trek. His keen eyes took in the surrounding scene: villagers gathered near the temple’s entrance, whispering in fear, while temple guards frantically bolstered their defenses.
A temple elder approached Bhima, his face lined with concern. “Are you the one the priests of Kashi sent to warn us?”
Bhima nodded. “The Sons of Rudra are coming. They’re after the Shiv Dwar Yantra.”
The elder’s face paled. “The Yantra lies beneath the sanctum, sealed and protected for centuries. If it is taken…”
Bhima’s voice was firm. “It won’t be. We’ll stop them.”
Even as he spoke, his eyes scanned the temple’s defenses—wooden barricades hastily erected at the entrance, guards armed with swords and spears. It wasn’t enough. These men weren’t prepared for the kind of enemy Rudrasena would send.
As Bhima began organizing the villagers, a low rumble echoed through the air. The ground trembled slightly, and the distant smoke thickened, turning darker and more menacing. A villager pointed toward the horizon, his voice trembling.
“They’re coming.”
Bhima turned, his heart sinking at the sight. Figures marched through the haze, their forms growing clearer with each step. Rudrasena’s soldiers wore dark armor etched with fiery patterns, their weapons glowing faintly with unnatural energy. At their head was Shakti, her Rudra Vajra crackling with power.
The villagers recoiled in fear as the soldiers drew closer. Bhima stepped forward, placing himself between the approaching forces and the temple.
Shakti stopped a few paces from Bhima, her lips curling into a smirk. “Dr. Mishra,” she said, her voice laced with mockery. “It seems fate keeps bringing us together.”
Bhima’s fists clenched, his voice steady. “Turn around, Shakti. You’re not taking the Yantra.”
Shakti laughed, the sound sharp and grating. “You think you can stop us? Look around you. A handful of villagers with sticks and swords? A temple elder who can barely stand? You’re outmatched.”
Bhima took a step forward, his gaze unwavering. “Maybe. But you’ll have to go through me first.”
Shakti raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening. “Oh, I’m counting on it.” She raised her Rudra Vajra high, its energy flaring brightly. The soldiers behind her surged forward with a battle cry, weapons gleaming as they charged toward the temple.
The villagers scrambled to hold the barricades, but it was clear they wouldn’t last long. Bhima dashed to the front lines, grabbing a fallen spear and positioning himself among the defenders.
“Hold the line!” he shouted. “Don’t let them through!”
The first clash was brutal. Shakti’s soldiers struck with calculated ferocity, their weapons slicing through the makeshift defenses. Bhima fought with every ounce of strength he had, his movements precise and deliberate. He parried blows, disarmed attackers, and knocked soldiers unconscious with calculated strikes.
But it wasn’t enough. For every soldier Bhima took down, two more seemed to take their place. The villagers were overwhelmed, their courage faltering as the enemy pushed closer to the temple.
Through the chaos, Shakti advanced steadily, her Rudra Vajra crackling with energy. Bhima caught her movement out of the corner of his eye and intercepted her just as she reached the temple’s entrance.
“You’re persistent, I’ll give you that,” Shakti said, twirling her weapon. “But persistence without power is just foolishness.”
Bhima didn’t respond. Instead, he lunged at her, using the spear to deflect her first strike. The impact sent a jolt up his arms, but he held his ground.
The battle between Bhima and Shakti was intense, their movements a blur of strikes and counterstrikes. Shakti’s weapon emitted bursts of energy that forced Bhima to stay on the defensive, but he refused to give her an opening.
Around them, the tide of the battle shifted further in the enemy’s favor. The villagers were being forced back toward the sanctum, their barricades splintering under the relentless assault.
“You can’t win, Dr. Mishra,” Shakti taunted, her strikes growing more aggressive. “Rudrasena’s vision is inevitable. The Yantra will be ours, and the world will be reborn.”
Bhima gritted his teeth, his focus narrowing. He had to stop her.
The explosion sent shockwaves through the temple grounds, shaking the very foundations of Somnath. Dust and debris filled the air as panicked villagers scrambled for cover. Bhima coughed, waving away the cloud of dust as his eyes locked onto the advancing group of Rudrasena’s soldiers.
They were headed straight for the sanctum.
“No!” Bhima roared, gripping his spear tighter.
Shakti, still in his path, smirked as if reveling in the chaos. “You’re out of your depth, Doctor. We’ll take what we came for, and you can enjoy watching it all fall apart.”
Bhima lunged at her, striking with the desperation of a man who knew he was out of time. Shakti sidestepped, her Rudra Vajra crackling as she swung it toward him. The energy weapon grazed Bhima’s side, sending searing pain through his body, but he gritted his teeth and pressed on.
“Get out of my way!” he growled, shoving her back with a force that caught her off guard.
Shakti stumbled, her smirk replaced with a glimmer of annoyance. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that. But you can’t save them all.”
Bhima didn’t respond. He turned and sprinted toward the sanctum, weaving through the chaos of battle.
The temple’s defenders were faltering, their makeshift weapons no match for Rudrasena’s well-armed soldiers. Bhima’s heart pounded as he reached the entrance to the sanctum, where a group of villagers had formed a desperate last line of defense.
“You have to fall back!” he shouted at them. “Get to safety!”
An elderly guard shook his head, his grip steady on a wooden staff. “If we leave, they’ll destroy the sanctum. We won’t let them defile this holy place.”
Bhima clenched his fists, torn between admiration for their bravery and frustration at their determination. “You can’t hold them off alone. Let me—”
Before he could finish, another explosion shook the temple. The soldiers were getting closer.
Bhima turned to face the approaching enemy, his eyes narrowing. “Alright,” he said. “Then we hold the line together.”
The villagers nodded, their resolve firm despite their fear. Bhima stepped to the front, his spear at the ready. His mind raced as he assessed the situation. The Shiv Dwar Yantra was too important to lose, but they were outnumbered and outgunned.
Think, Bhima, he told himself. You’re a scientist. Use what you know.
His gaze flicked to the surrounding architecture—the intricate carvings, the towering pillars, and the flickering oil lamps that lined the sanctum’s entrance. An idea sparked.
“Listen to me!” Bhima shouted to the defenders. “We can’t beat them head-on, but we can slow them down. Use the lamps—pour the oil over the entrance!”
The villagers hesitated for a moment, then sprang into action, grabbing the lamps and tipping their contents across the stone floor. Bhima worked alongside them, his movements quick and precise.
As the soldiers closed in, Bhima grabbed a discarded torch and held it aloft. The oil shimmered on the ground, creating a barrier of flammable liquid.
“Wait for my signal,” Bhima said, his voice low but firm.
The soldiers charged, their weapons gleaming in the dim light. Bhima waited, his grip tightening on the torch. He could feel the tension in the air, the weight of the villagers’ hope resting squarely on his shoulders.
“Now!” he shouted, throwing the torch onto the oil-soaked floor.
Flames roared to life, creating a wall of fire that stopped the soldiers in their tracks. The heat was intense, the crackling of the flames mingling with the shouts of the enemy.
Bhima turned to the defenders. “This won’t hold them for long. Get to the inner sanctum and secure the Yantra. Go!”
The villagers hesitated, glancing at Bhima with uncertainty. “What about you?” one of them asked.
“I’ll buy you as much time as I can,” Bhima replied, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Reluctantly, the defenders retreated into the sanctum, their footsteps echoing against the ancient stone walls. Bhima stayed behind, his eyes fixed on the soldiers regrouping beyond the flames.
He could feel his rage simmering, the yantra patterns on his arms faintly glowing as the heat of the moment pressed on him.
“You want it?” Bhima muttered under his breath, his grip on the spear tightening. “You’ll have to go through me.”
The smoldering flames hissed as the soldiers pushed forward, their boots crunching against the charred remnants of Bhima’s desperate defense. Smoke curled into the air, but the soldiers moved with a confidence that set Bhima’s teeth on edge. They were well-trained, coordinated, and armed with weapons that seemed to hum with an otherworldly energy.
Bhima tightened his grip on the spear, his knuckles whitening. Behind him, the sanctum’s entrance loomed—a gateway to the Shiv Dwar Yantra, which Rudrasena’s forces sought to claim.
“Not one step closer,” Bhima muttered to himself, his voice a mixture of determination and desperation.
The first soldier lunged, his blade flashing in the firelight. Bhima sidestepped, using the spear’s shaft to deflect the strike. With a sharp twist, he disarmed the attacker and drove the butt of the spear into the soldier’s gut, sending him sprawling.
Another came at him, this one wielding a crackling energy baton. Bhima ducked beneath the swing, his movements precise despite the chaotic environment. The glow of the yantra patterns on his arms flickered faintly as he twisted the spear upward, knocking the baton aside and landing a swift kick to his opponent’s chest.
For a moment, Bhima allowed himself a sliver of confidence. He could hold them. He had to.
But then came the next wave.
Four soldiers advanced together, their weapons gleaming with an eerie light. They moved in sync, attacking from multiple angles. Bhima’s focus sharpened as he parried, dodged, and countered, his movements a blur of determination.
Even so, he was only one man, and the sheer number of enemies began to overwhelm him. A soldier’s blade grazed his shoulder, drawing a sharp hiss of pain. Another struck his thigh, forcing him to stagger back.
As Bhima fought to regain his footing, a voice cut through the chaos—sharp, mocking, and all too familiar.
“Still standing, Doctor?” Shakti called from the shadows, her tone dripping with amusement.
Bhima’s eyes snapped to her as she emerged from the smoke, the Rudra Vajra glowing ominously in her hands. Her soldiers fell back slightly, giving her space as she strode toward Bhima with a predator’s confidence.
“You’re stubborn, I’ll give you that,” Shakti said, her smirk widening. “But even you must realize this is hopeless. Step aside, and maybe I won’t break every bone in your body.”
Bhima wiped the blood from his lip, his expression defiant. “You’ll have to go through me first.”
Shakti tilted her head, mock pity flashing across her face. “Oh, I was hoping you’d say that.”
She lunged forward, the Rudra Vajra crackling with raw energy. Bhima barely managed to block her first strike, the impact sending a shockwave through his arms. His spear splintered slightly under the force, but he held his ground.
Their battle was fierce and unrelenting. Shakti’s movements were calculated and brutal, each strike of her weapon aimed with deadly precision. Bhima countered as best he could, using every ounce of strength and skill he possessed.
But Shakti had an edge—her weapon’s energy blasts forced him to stay on the defensive, and her taunts gnawed at his resolve.
“You can’t win, Doctor,” she said, striking again. “You’re not strong enough. You’re not fast enough. And let’s face it—you don’t have what it takes to protect that Yantra.”
Bhima gritted his teeth, his frustration boiling over. The faint glow of the yantra patterns on his arms grew brighter, pulsing in time with his quickening heartbeat.
For a moment, he felt the Pralaya Shakti stirring within him—a raw, untamed power begging to be unleashed. But he shoved it down, refusing to give in.
“Maybe I’m not strong enough,” Bhima said through clenched teeth. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll stop trying.”
As their battle raged, the soldiers took advantage of the distraction. A group of them broke away, slipping past Bhima and Shakti toward the sanctum’s entrance.
“No!” Bhima shouted, his attention split.
Shakti seized the opening, landing a powerful blow with the Rudra Vajra that sent Bhima sprawling to the ground. Pain lanced through his body as he struggled to rise, but Shakti loomed over him, her weapon humming ominously.
“You’ve lost,” she said, her smirk returning. “But don’t worry—I’ll be sure to tell Rudrasena how bravely you fought.”
Bhima’s breath came in ragged gasps as Shakti’s Rudra Vajra descended toward him, its energy crackling like a thunderstorm about to break. Every instinct screamed for him to move, to counter, to survive—but his body felt leaden, pinned by exhaustion and the sheer force of her attack.
Then, the light erupted.
The yantra patterns on Bhima’s arms blazed to life, intricate and molten, pulsating like living fire. An immense surge of energy coursed through him, erasing his pain and fatigue in an instant. With a guttural roar, Bhima caught Shakti’s weapon mid-swing, the Rudra Vajra sparking as it met his glowing hands.
Shakti’s eyes widened in surprise, her smirk faltering for the first time. “What—?”
Before she could finish, Bhima shoved her back with a force that sent her skidding across the stone floor. Rising to his feet, his frame seemed to expand, his muscles bulging as the glow spread across his body. His skin deepened to a radiant blue, the patterns on his arms and chest now fully visible and pulsating with raw power.
“What… am I?” Bhima muttered, his voice resonating with an otherworldly timbre. But there was no time for reflection. The soldiers who had passed him earlier were nearing the inner sanctum, and Shakti was already recovering, her weapon spinning to life once more.
With a speed and strength that surprised even himself, Bhima charged at Shakti, closing the distance in a heartbeat. She swung the Rudra Vajra in a wide arc, but Bhima ducked beneath it and delivered a powerful uppercut. The blow sent her flying into a nearby pillar, the stone cracking on impact.
Shakti staggered to her feet, her expression a mixture of fury and disbelief. “You’re full of surprises, Doctor,” she snarled. “But you’re still just a man playing with power he doesn’t understand.”
Bhima didn’t reply. Instead, he raised a massive chunk of broken stone—debris from the earlier battle—and hurled it at her with unerring precision. Shakti barely managed to dodge, the projectile shattering against the temple wall behind her.
The soldiers nearby hesitated, their confidence shaken as they watched their leader struggle against this newfound force. Bhima turned to them, his glowing eyes burning like embers.
“Leave now,” he growled, his voice echoing with an unnatural authority. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”
For a moment, it seemed as though the soldiers might retreat. But then Shakti stepped forward, blood trickling from a cut on her forehead.
“Don’t just stand there!” she snapped at her men. “Take him down!”
The soldiers rallied, advancing on Bhima with weapons raised.
Bhima braced himself, but as the first soldier lunged, he felt the Pralaya Shakti take over. His movements were faster, more instinctive, as though the power coursing through him was guiding his every step. He disarmed one attacker with a single strike, sending their blade clattering to the ground, then swung around to deliver a backhanded blow that sent another sprawling.
The fight was a blur of motion and raw power. Bhima didn’t just hold his ground—he dominated, every strike sending shockwaves through the temple. His roars reverberated through the air, a primal sound that struck fear into even the most battle-hardened soldiers.
But with each strike, Bhima felt the power pulling at him, urging him to go further, to destroy without restraint.
Shakti watched, her expression shifting from anger to calculated interest. “You can’t control it, can you?” she taunted, her voice cutting through the chaos. “That power will consume you, just like Rudrasena predicted.”
Bhima hesitated for a fraction of a second, her words hitting a nerve. In that moment, Shakti seized the opportunity, launching a concentrated energy blast from the Rudra Vajra. The attack struck Bhima square in the chest, sending him crashing into a nearby wall.
The impact shook the temple, dust and debris raining down from above. Bhima groaned, the glow of his patterns flickering as he struggled to rise.
Bhima dragged himself upright, his shoulders heaving as he fixed his glowing eyes on Shakti. The Rudra Vajra in her hands crackled like a storm barely contained, but her smirk was gone, replaced with a calculating glare.
The soldiers had breached the sanctum. He had no time left.
“If you think I’m going to let you walk away with that Yantra,” Bhima growled, his voice deep and resonant, “then you don’t know me at all.”
Shakti chuckled darkly. “Oh, I know you better than you think. A man desperate for control… haunted by the power he can’t contain.” She raised the Vajra, its energy glowing brighter. “Let’s see how far desperation gets you.”
Shakti lunged, swinging the Vajra in a wide arc. Bhima ducked beneath it, his muscles moving with a precision and speed that felt both foreign and natural at once. He countered with a powerful punch, his fist glowing with faint traces of Pralaya energy as it connected with her weapon.
The resulting clash sent a shockwave rippling through the temple, dislodging dust and debris from the ancient ceiling. Shakti staggered back, her grip tightening on the Vajra.
“You’re fast,” she admitted, circling him like a predator. “I’ll give you that. But speed won’t save you when you’re fighting blind.”
She thrust the Vajra forward, releasing a blinding flash of light. Bhima flinched, instinctively shielding his eyes, and Shakti seized the opening. Her energy weapon struck him squarely in the side, the force sending him tumbling across the stone floor.
Pain flared through Bhima’s body, but with it came a surge of adrenaline. The yantra patterns on his arms burned brighter, their intricate lines pulsing as if urging him to rise.
He did.
“You’re right,” Bhima said, his voice steady despite the pain. “I don’t know what I’m doing. But I don’t have to.”
With a roar, he charged at Shakti, his movements a blur. She swung the Vajra again, but this time Bhima caught the weapon mid-strike, his glowing hands gripping it with unyielding force. Sparks flew as the weapon struggled against his hold, but Bhima didn’t relent.
“You talk too much,” he said through gritted teeth, yanking the Vajra from her grasp and hurling it across the temple. It clattered against the far wall, its glow dimming.
Shakti snarled, her composure cracking. She lashed out with a series of precise strikes, but Bhima met each one with a counter of his own. His attacks were swift and relentless, driving her back step by step.
The temple seemed to tremble with the force of their battle. Each blow Bhima landed sent shockwaves through the air, while Shakti’s movements grew more desperate.
“You think this changes anything?” she spat, dodging a particularly brutal strike. “The Yantra is ours. Rudrasena will have his prize, and you—”
Bhima didn’t let her finish. He spun and delivered a powerful kick to her midsection, sending her crashing into a crumbling pillar.
“I don’t care about your plans,” Bhima said, advancing on her. “You’re not taking that Yantra.”
For the first time, Shakti looked genuinely shaken. But her fear quickly turned to fury. She lunged at Bhima with a dagger drawn from her belt, the blade humming with the same energy as the Vajra.
Bhima caught her wrist mid-strike, his grip like iron. The glowing patterns on his arms flared as he stared her down.
“It’s over,” he said, his voice low and unyielding.
Shakti struggled against his grip, but it was no use. Her dagger clattered to the floor, and she slumped against the pillar, defeated but still defiant.
“You’re wasting your time,” she sneered. “They’re already inside.”
Bhima’s footsteps echoed as he advanced toward the sanctum, the faint glow of the Shiv Dwar Yantra flickering like a distant beacon. Behind him, Shakti coughed and shifted against the crumbling pillar, her defiant sneer softening into a calculated smirk.
“You’re running out of time,” she said, her voice tinged with satisfaction. “And I don’t think you’re ready for what’s waiting in there.”
Bhima paused, his broad shoulders tense, but he didn’t turn around. “You should leave while you still can.”
Shakti laughed—a bitter, hollow sound. “Leave? You don’t understand, do you? I’m not the one losing here.”
Before Bhima could respond, Shakti pressed a concealed button on her wristband. A low hum filled the air, followed by a sudden, sharp vibration beneath their feet. The temple trembled as a section of the wall behind her shifted, revealing a hidden exit.
“That’s my cue,” she said, pushing herself up with a wince. “I’d love to stick around and watch you fail, but Rudrasena’s already won this round.”
Bhima spun to face her, his glowing eyes narrowing. “You’re not going anywhere.”
He moved to intercept her, but the trembling floor made him hesitate. The temple’s structural integrity was already compromised, and chasing her might risk the sanctum.
Shakti seemed to sense his hesitation and smirked. “Always the hero, aren’t you? Always trying to save everyone.” She limped toward the hidden exit, her movements deliberate despite her injuries.
“You can’t save them all, Doctor,” she called over her shoulder. “And you definitely can’t stop Rudrasena.”
Bhima clenched his fists, his inner conflict palpable. The Pralaya Shakti surged within him, begging to be unleashed, but he forced it down. The sanctum—and the Shiv Dwar Yantra—had to take priority.
“Run while you can,” he growled, his voice reverberating through the chamber.
Shakti hesitated for a moment, her gaze flickering with something almost like respect. Then, with a final smirk, she disappeared into the hidden corridor. The door sealed behind her, leaving Bhima alone with the faint glow of the sanctum ahead.
He stood there for a moment, his breathing heavy as the dust settled. The echoes of Shakti’s taunts lingered in his mind, each word a thorn digging deeper.
“You can’t save them all…”
Bhima shook his head, his glowing fists unclenching as he refocused his energy. This wasn’t about her. It wasn’t about proving her wrong. It was about stopping Rudrasena and his forces before they could wield the unimaginable power of the Mahapralaya Astra.
The air grew heavier as Bhima stepped closer to the sanctum’s entrance. Ancient carvings lined the walls, depicting cosmic battles and the cycles of creation and destruction. The glow of the Shiv Dwar Yantra grew brighter, its rhythmic pulses syncing with Bhima’s heartbeat.
He paused at the threshold, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. Beyond this point, there would be no turning back.
“You’ve got this,” he whispered to himself, drawing a deep breath.
Bhima stepped fully into the sanctum, the intricate yantra patterns on his arms glowing faintly in the golden light of the Shiv Dwar Yantra. The chamber’s energy hummed, resonating with something deep within him. But all that was secondary to the three figures standing before the pedestal.
The Yamaka Twins—towering, sinewy brutes whose bodies crackled with gamma-mutated energy—flanked a wiry figure draped in dark robes. This man carried himself with an air of cold confidence, his movements deliberate as he turned toward Bhima.
“Well, well,” the man said, his sharp, angular face illuminated by the Yantra’s glow. “The prodigal scientist arrives. And here I thought you’d be smart enough to stay buried in the rubble.”
Bhima’s gaze flickered between the Yamaka Twins and the man who could only be Rudrasena’s top lieutenant. The name surfaced in his mind—Daruka, a master strategist and enforcer for the Sons of Rudra.
“I’m not here to play your games,” Bhima said, his voice steady but laced with tension. “Step away from the Yantra.”
Daruka chuckled, a humorless sound that echoed through the chamber. “You think you can stop this? Look around you. The Yantra is awake. Its power resonates with the Mahapralaya Astra, and soon, Rudrasena will claim what is rightfully his.”
Bhima took a step forward, his glowing fists clenching. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with. The Astra’s energy could destroy everything.”
“Destroy?” Daruka sneered, gesturing dramatically to the Yantra. “No, Doctor. Not destroy. Purify. Cleanse. Humanity has run its course. Rudrasena will usher in a new age—one free of greed, corruption, and weakness.”
The Yamaka Twins snorted in unison, their lips curling into identical sneers.
“Big words for a man who couldn’t even protect his own lab,” one of the twins rumbled.
“Or his colleagues,” the other added, their voices overlapping in a disorienting harmony.
Bhima’s jaw tightened. He knew they were goading him, trying to stoke the rage that burned just beneath his surface. But he also knew that losing control here, in this charged chamber, could have catastrophic consequences.
“You think you’re in control,” Bhima said, his voice low and measured. “But the Astra doesn’t obey anyone. Not Rudrasena. Not you. It’s chaos. And when it consumes you, there won’t be a world left to save.”
Daruka smirked, clearly unimpressed. “And yet, here you stand, a man consumed by the very chaos you claim to fear. Tell me, Doctor—how much of you is still human?”
Bhima took another step forward, his glowing form casting long shadows across the chamber. The Yantra’s pulsing light seemed to intensify, reacting to his presence.
“Enough,” Bhima said simply.
Daruka’s smirk faltered. He glanced at the Yamaka Twins and gave a slight nod.
“Kill him,” Daruka ordered, his voice cold. “And make it quick.”
The twins moved as one, their massive frames lunging toward Bhima with a speed that belied their size.
Bhima braced himself, the Pralaya Shakti surging through his veins. The first twin swung a massive fist, crackling with energy, but Bhima ducked beneath the blow and countered with a swift uppercut. The impact sent the twin staggering, but the second was already on him, grabbing Bhima by the torso and hurling him into a pillar.
The stone cracked under the force, but Bhima was back on his feet in an instant. He moved with calculated precision, weaving between their attacks and landing punishing blows of his own. The chamber shook with the force of their battle, the Yantra’s light pulsing erratically in response.
Daruka watched from the sidelines, his expression calm but his eyes calculating. As the Yamaka Twins pressed their assault, he approached the Yantra, his hands outstretched toward its radiant surface.
“You’re too late, Doctor,” he said over his shoulder, his voice laced with triumph. “The Sons of Rudra are already ahead of you. And when Rudrasena completes the Yantra, your sacrifice will mean nothing.”
Bhima threw the second twin into the wall with a roar, his chest heaving as he turned toward Daruka.
“Get away from that Yantra!” Bhima bellowed, his voice echoing with primal force.
Daruka’s hand hovered just above the Yantra’s glowing surface, his lips curling into a taunting smile. “Why don’t you come and stop me, Doctor?”