CHAPTER 16: TRIALS OF TRUST
The underground bar reeked of stale beer, sweat, and quiet fear.
Ajit moved through the dimly lit room like a ghost, his hood pulled low, his ears tuned to every whisper. The city’s criminals were on edge. Something had changed in Imphal’s underworld, and he was here to find out what.
At a table near the bar, a scar-faced smuggler leaned in, speaking in hushed tones to a group of nervous men.
“They’re moving fast. Three of our warehouses—gone. No alarms. No survivors.”
A younger gangster, jittery and pale, swallowed hard. “Who?”
The scarred man exhaled sharply, grinding his cigarette into the table. “The Lotus Syndicate.”
Ajit barely moved, but his focus sharpened. So the rumors were true. A new force was rising in the city—one that wasn’t just fighting for power. They were taking it.
Another man, voice tense, muttered, “I thought this city was done with gangs after Ravana.”
“They ain’t just another gang,” the scarred man murmured. “They’re something else. Organized. Precise. They don’t fight for territory—they erase their enemies.” He lowered his voice. “And their boss?”
The men leaned in.
“Iron Fist.”
A heavy silence settled over the table. Even the bartender paused mid-wipe, glancing toward the door.
Ajit’s fingers twitched. He had heard the name whispered before, but this was the first real confirmation.
The young gangster hesitated. “What’s his deal?”
The scarred man glanced around before speaking. “He ain’t just some thug. Word is, he’s… enhanced. Cybernetics. Experimental shit. Got a metal arm that can crush a man’s skull like an egg. Skin reinforced with military-grade plates.”
The younger man paled. “Like a machine?”
“Not quite. Worse.”
The bar door creaked open.
The men at the table instantly fell silent.
Ajit didn’t turn, didn’t move—but he felt the shift in the air. The heavy presence that wasn’t human.
The bartender tensed, his voice unusually stiff. “We’re closed.”
The figure at the door didn’t move.
Ajit risked a glance.
A broad, towering man stood in the doorway, half-shrouded in shadow.
Then—a single step forward.
Heavy. Mechanical.
Ajit’s pulse didn’t quicken. His breath didn’t hitch. But instinctively, his golden energy tendrils flickered beneath his sleeves.
He didn’t need a name.
He already knew who this was.
Iron Fist had arrived.
The apartment was a battlefield—not of fists, but of words left unspoken.
The table was cluttered with ancient texts, decrypted files, and half-empty coffee cups. Pages filled with Sanskrit symbols were scattered across the floor, some hastily marked with Ajit’s notes. Weeks of research. Sleepless nights.
Ajit sat hunched over a manuscript, eyes scanning faded ink, his mind working faster than his body could keep up.
Padmini stood by the kitchen counter, arms crossed, watching him. Waiting.
Then, finally—“Ajit.”
Her voice was firm. Controlled. But he could hear the strain beneath it.
He didn’t look up. “Not now.”
“Yes. Now.”
Ajit exhaled through his nose but kept reading.
Padmini’s jaw tightened. “You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
She motioned to the mess of papers, the mad obsession scrawled across the walls in diagrams and half-finished equations. “You’re disappearing into this. Locking yourself away.”
Ajit leaned back, rubbing his temples. “I’m close. There’s something here, something we—”
“No.”
Padmini’s voice cut through the air, sharp as a blade.
“You keep saying that,” she said, stepping forward. “You’ve been saying that for weeks. But you’re not ‘close.’ You’re slipping.”
Ajit finally looked at her. “You think I don’t know that?”
Padmini’s gaze softened, but only slightly. “Then stop.”
Ajit scoffed. “You really think I can just stop?” He gestured to the files, to the documents, to everything they had uncovered about the Nagamani. “You’ve seen what Rajesh found. You know this is bigger than me.”
“I know.” Padmini took another step, voice quieter now. “But Ajit… you’re acting like you’re the only one who can fix it.”
Ajit didn’t respond.
Because, deep down—he did feel that way.
Padmini sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I get it, okay? I do. But if you keep pushing yourself like this, you’re going to break.”
Ajit looked away. His fingers curled into a fist on the table.
Padmini watched him for a long moment. Then she shook her head, disappointment flashing across her face.
“Fine,” she muttered, stepping back toward the door. “Kill yourself chasing ghosts if you want.”
She turned and walked out.
The door slammed behind her.
Ajit sat there, alone in the dim light, surrounded by papers, research, and a silence that felt heavier than it should.
The only sound in the apartment was the rapid tapping of keys.
Rajesh sat at his desk, eyes locked on the screen as lines of encrypted data unraveled before him. His fingers moved with precision, decrypting fragments of PROJECT NAGAKANTA. Each new piece of information made his stomach tighten.
Behind him, Ajit stood with his arms crossed, his golden tendrils flickering faintly under his sleeves. He was trying to stay calm. Trying to be patient.
He was failing.
“Tell me you’ve found something useful,” Ajit said.
Rajesh didn’t look away from the screen. “I’ve found something. But you’re not going to like it.”
Ajit narrowed his eyes. “Try me.”
Rajesh leaned back, gesturing to the decrypted files. “The Nagamani isn’t just some ancient artifact, Ajit. It’s something else.”
Ajit tensed. “It’s a weapon.”
Rajesh turned to him, shaking his head. “No. It’s—it’s alive.”
Ajit’s breath caught for just a fraction of a second. Then his expression hardened.
“Don’t start with that.”
Rajesh tapped the screen, voice rising slightly. “The government didn’t just study the Nagamani, Ajit. They feared it. Look at this.”
Ajit stepped forward, eyes scanning the document. It was a classified report from decades ago, detailing an abandoned research project. Project Nagakanta.
One phrase stood out in bold letters:
“DO NOT ATTEMPT DIRECT COMMUNICATION.”
Ajit’s fists clenched. His pulse pounded in his ears.
Rajesh kept pushing. “Think about it. It reacts to you. Shows you visions. It’s not just power—it’s something else.”
Ajit shook his head. “No. It’s a tool. A means to an end.”
Rajesh’s jaw tightened. “And what if it’s not?”
Ajit exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “It doesn’t change anything.”
Rajesh stared at him. “Doesn’t it?”
Ajit didn’t answer. Didn’t want to.
Because deep down, in the part of himself he didn’t like to acknowledge—he was afraid Rajesh might be right.
Instead of arguing, Ajit turned and walked out.
Rajesh watched him go, tension hanging heavy between them.
The rift between them widened.
The world was quiet for once.
The distant hum of the city buzzed below, but up here—on the rooftop of the old temple overlooking Imphal—it was just them.
Ajit sat on the stone ledge, arms resting on his knees, eyes fixed on the horizon. The night stretched endlessly before him, the sky dark but speckled with faint stars. The air was cool, carrying the scent of rain.
Padmini sat beside him, legs crossed, sipping from a steel flask she had smuggled up here. “So,” she said, breaking the silence, “are we just going to sit here brooding all night, or are you actually going to talk?”
Ajit smirked. “Didn’t know we had an agenda.”
“We always have an agenda,” Padmini muttered. She took another sip, then nudged the flask toward him.
Ajit took it, tilting his head. “What is this?”
“Tea.”
Ajit raised an eyebrow.
Padmini shrugged. “Fine, it’s whiskey.”
Ajit took a sip, feeling the burn slide down his throat. “Tastes awful.”
“You’ll live.”
For a while, they just sat in silence. The city below pulsed with life—cars moving, streetlights flickering, distant voices carrying in the wind. But up here, it felt like a different world.
Padmini broke the silence first. “You’re thinking too much.”
Ajit let out a quiet chuckle. “You say that like it’s new.”
Padmini smirked. “No. You fight too much. Thinking is new.”
Ajit exhaled, rubbing his face. “I don’t know how to turn it off.”
Padmini leaned back on her hands, looking up at the sky. “You don’t. You just… make room for something else.”
Ajit glanced at her. “And what’s that?”
She turned her head, locking eyes with him. “This.”
He didn’t look away.
Neither did she.
The space between them felt smaller than before.
Padmini reached for his hand, fingers brushing against his.
Ajit didn’t pull away.
For the first time in what felt like forever, he let himself be still.
Because for once, there was no battle to fight.
Just this moment.
And for now, that was enough.
The warehouse reeked of gunpowder, oil, and fear.
Ajit landed inside with a controlled crouch, his golden energy tendrils snapping to life around him. The Lotus Syndicate scattered like rats, reaching for their weapons.
Then—a heavy footstep.
Ajit felt him before he saw him.
From the darkness, Iron Fist emerged.
He was massive—easily seven feet tall, built like a human wrecking machine. His cybernetic right arm gleamed under the dim overhead lights, thick cables and reinforced plating running from shoulder to fist. His left eye glowed red, scanning Ajit’s every movement.
Iron Fist cracked his neck. “You’re shorter than I expected.”
Ajit rolled his shoulders. “You’re uglier than I expected.”
Then—they moved.
Iron Fist charged, closing the distance in a blink. Fast. Too fast. Ajit barely dodged in time as the cybernetic fist smashed into the concrete floor, sending cracks spiraling outward.
Ajit countered. His golden tendrils lashed out—but Iron Fist caught them with his metal hand, yanking him forward before driving a knee into his ribs.
Pain exploded through Ajit’s side. He gritted his teeth, twisting mid-air, landing on all fours like a serpent.
Iron Fist smirked. “I’ve studied you, Naga Man. Every fight. Every weakness.”
Ajit’s tendrils flexed behind him. “Then you should know how this ends.”
Iron Fist lunged again—but this time, Ajit was ready.
He ducked low, shifting instantly into his massive cobra form.
Iron Fist faltered for just a second. A second too long.
Ajit struck. His spectral fangs sank into Iron Fist’s cybernetic shoulder, venom hissing as it ate through reinforced steel.
Iron Fist roared in pain, stumbling back, swinging wildly—but Ajit was already shifting back, flipping over him.
Ajit landed behind him, firing twin blasts of golden webbing.
The poisoned threads wrapped around Iron Fist’s legs, hardening instantly. He tried to move—failed.
Ajit didn’t waste the opening. He surged forward, golden tendrils whipping around him—then drove his fist straight into Iron Fist’s chest.
BOOM.
Iron Fist crashed to the ground, unmoving.
Ajit stood over him, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.
It was over.
Or so he thought.
Iron Fist coughed, blood staining his lips. But he was smirking.
“You…” he wheezed, looking up at Ajit. “…have no idea what’s coming.”
Then—his cybernetic arm detonated.
The warehouse erupted in flames.