**Scrapeyard factory, Ahmed’s base, 11.45 PM**

Heavy rain poured down relentless without showing mercy.

The electricity lines had been cut, plunging most of the scrapyard into darkness. Only occasional flashes of lightning, sweeping vehicle headlights, and ocassional phone flashlights lit the battlefield.

Both sides were locked in a brutal deadlock.

"Push them back!" an Ahmed loyalist shouted. "Don’t let these Southern dogs take the gate!"

"Motherfuckers! Keep shooting!" one of Anna’s men roared back.

"Keep firing! Don’t let them break through"

"Fuck you! This is our territory now!"

Bullets sparked off twisted metal. Men screamed as they were hit. The ground had turned into slippery mud, making every step treacherous.

Ahmed’s forces were holding the line for now, but Anna’s invaders were relentless.

Then came the sound of a heavy engine roaring through the storm.

Anna’s men suddenly started pulling back.

"Fall back! Fall back!" someone yelled.

The Ahmed side cheered for a moment, thinking they had won.

But the engine sound grew louder.

A massive bulldozer burst out of the darkness, headlights cutting through the rain like twin searchlights. It slammed into the barricade at full speed.

CRASH!

Wood logs splintered. Barbed wire snapped. Crushed cars were shoved aside like toys. The entire gate barrier collapsed in seconds.

Ahmed’s men scattered frantically, running in all directions as the bulldozer plowed through the wreckage and entered the factory courtyard.

Anna Venkatesh sat in the driver’s seat, completely drenched in heavy rain, water streaming down his muscular arms. He held a steel rod wrapped with barbed wire in one hand like a warrior’s spear.

Artwork.

The bulldozer came to a stop in the middle of the courtyard.

Anna jumped down, landing heavily in the mud. He raised the barbed rod and shouted into the storm:

"Where are you, Mukhtar Ahmed?! If you’re a man, come down and settle this the old way!"

For a moment, only the rain answered.

Then lightning cracked across the sky.

On a raised metal platform above the yard, Mukhtar Ahmed appeared as he bellowed. "Anna venkatesh!"

The flash of lightning illuminated his muscular frame, rain streaming down his bare arms and chest. He held a heavy iron chain in one hand, the links glinting dangerously.

Artwork.

He looked down at Anna like a king staring at a challenger.

"I never shy away from a challenge," Ahmed called out, his deep voice carrying through the storm.

He jumped from the platform, landing heavily in the muddy ground with perfect balance. The circle of men from both sides slowly stepped back, forming a wide ring around the two leaders.

No guns.

Only steel and fury.

Anna screamed, "I considered you brother. Thought we could rule Delhi together. But you betrayed me. Blew my mill. Killed my men. All for what? Today will be your day of judgement, you fucking outsider!"

Ahmed rotated the heavy iron chain in his hands, the links clinking loudly. Rain poured down his face as he spat on the muddy ground.

"Don’t lecture me now," he growled. "You came into my turf and call me the outsider?" He swung the chain once, the metal whistling through the air. "Since you came for a fight... here I bring you one."

They charged at each other like two bulls in the storm.

Anna swung his barbed rod in a wide, devastating arc. The weapon whistled through the rain. Ahmed raised his chain and met it head-on. The clash rang out with a heavy metallic thud. The force of the impact made both men slide back in the slippery mud, their boots digging into the wet ground.

Anna roared and struck again, aiming for Ahmed’s head. Ahmed ducked low. The rod smashed into a stack of rusted oil drums behind him, splitting one open and sending thick black oil spilling into the rain.

Ahmed countered instantly. He whipped the heavy chain in a low arc, aiming for Anna’s legs. Anna jumped back just in time. The chain shattered a pile of scrap metal, sending sharp pieces flying in every direction.

They circled each other, breathing heavily, rain streaming down their faces. Lightning flashed, illuminating the hatred in their eyes.

Ahmed suddenly lunged and caught Anna’s rod with the chain. With a powerful twist and a roar, he wrenched it out of Anna’s hands and flung it aside into the darkness.

Anna was now unarmed.

Ahmed grinned savagely and pressed the attack. He swung the chain twice in quick succession. Anna dodged the first, but the second clipped his shoulder, tearing flesh and drawing blood. He staggered back, pain flaring.

But Anna wasn’t done.

He grabbed a broken brick from the mud and hurled it with full force. It smashed into Ahmed’s face, splitting his cheek open. Blood poured down Ahmed’s jaw and mixed with the rain.

Enraged, Ahmed charged and brought the chain down hard on Anna’s shoulder. The impact dropped Anna to one knee in the mud.

Before Anna could recover, Ahmed stepped in close and tried to wrap the heavy chain around his neck.

Anna reacted instantly. He caught the chain with both hands and pulled back with all his strength. The thick links dug into his palms as he fought against Ahmed’s power. For a few tense seconds, both men strained against each other, muscles bulging, faces inches apart.

Then, with a loud metallic crack, the chain snapped under the immense tension.

Both men threw the broken weapon aside and went bare-handed.

They traded heavy punches and kicks. Anna lifted Ahmed and slammed him onto a pile of scrap. Ahmed roared, grabbed Anna, and flipped him over, smashing him into the mud.

For a moment, it was impossible to tell who had the upper hand.

Ahmed had raw power and brutal strength. Anna had superior grit, sharper tactics, and relentless endurance.

They traded heavy blows in the pouring rain.

Ahmed landed a solid punch to Anna’s jaw, then followed with a knee to the ribs.

Anna answered with a powerful hook to Ahmed’s side and a brutal elbow strike to the chest.

Neither man backed down.

Then a flying knife whistled through the rain and sank deep into Anna’s back.

Anna screamed in pain.

He reached back, ripped the knife out with a growl, and cursed, "In the end you chose to cheat, you foreign bastard!"

Bleeding heavily from the wound, he lunged at Ahmed with the bloody knife.

Ahmed dodged smartly. The blade cut across his arm, drawing fresh blood.

Before Anna could strike again, Ahmed caught his wrist, twisted it violently, and stabbed the knife deep into Anna’s stomach.

"I’m not inclined to reply to a losing fucker," Ahmed snarled, twisting the blade.

Anna gasped, eyes wide in shock. He staggered back, blood pouring from the wound.

Ahmed stood over him, breathing hard, rain mixing with the blood on his hands.

In the distance, the low thump of helicopter rotors grew louder.

Then the sky lit up.

Two Indian-made LCH Prachand helicopters burst through the storm clouds, their powerful floodlights cutting through the rain like searchlights. One of the lead choppers fired a warning missile.

BOOM.

The missile slammed into an empty section of the scrapyard. A massive fireball erupted, lighting up the entire battlefield in bright orange flames. The explosion sent a wave of heat and debris rolling across the yard.

At the same time, the ground forces arrived.

Several armored vehicles, police jeeps, and prisoner vans roared in from both ends of the road, their high-beam lights cutting through the heavy rain. They quickly parked at the entrance and exit gates, completely trapping everyone inside the scrapyard.

CRPF personnel flooded the surrounding roads in tactical formation, their torches and vehicle lights sweeping across the chaotic scene as they raised their weapons.

Panic exploded among the fighters.

Men from both sides dropped their weapons and raised their hands in terror, screaming and scrambling for cover.

"It’s over! They’re here!"

"We’re finished!"

Ahmed’s remaining loyalists froze in fear, looking at the overwhelming force surrounding them.

But Ahmed himself didn’t move.

He stood tall in the pouring rain, blood running down his face and chest, staring at the flames and the helicopters with cold, calculating eyes. Not a trace of fear.

Commandos fast-roped down from the helicopters in coordinated teams while ground forces stormed in from the perimeter, rifles raised, moving with professional precision. They quickly surrounded the remaining fighters from both sides.

Most of the gangsters surrendered immediately, dropping to their knees or face-down in the mud. A few who resisted were taken down fast.

Ahmed looked around slowly — at the overwhelming force, at his men on their knees, at the flashing lights and the armed Commandos aiming rifles at him.

He exhaled through his nose.

He dropped the bloody knife into the mud with a dull splash.

Slowly, deliberately, he raised both hands and sank to his knees in the pouring rain.

Two officers wearing jacket of IB moved in fast. One kicked the knife away while the other slammed Ahmed face-down into the mud and cuffed his wrists tightly behind his back.

As they hauled him up, Ahmed looked toward the wounded Anna being attended by medics. A cold, almost amused smile touched his bloodied lips.

One of the senior officers stepped forward, rain dripping from his helmet.

"Mukhtar Ahmed," he said loudly, "you are under arrest for multiple charges of murder, extortion, arms trafficking, and conspiracy against the state."

Ahmed chuckled once, low and bitter, as the rain continued to pour over him.

"Tell your superiors," he said calmly, "that Mukhtar Ahmed does not run from anyone."

The officer didn’t reply. He simply nodded, and the special commandos team dragged Ahmed away toward the waiting vehicles.

***

The press conference was held under bright floodlights outside the Delhi Police Headquarters. Rain was still drizzling lightly. A large crowd of reporters, many looking exhausted and soaked, had gathered despite the late hour. Camera flashes kept popping in the darkness.

Commissioner Bhusan Singh stepped up to the podium, his face tired but composed.

He cleared his throat and began.

"Late last night, a joint operation named Operation Gang Bust 2025 was successfully carried out by Delhi Police in coordination with Indian Intelligence agencies and regional police forces of Delhi, Haryana and Punjab.

This was one of the largest crackdowns in recent years. Arrests are still ongoing. Around 834 personnel have been arrested in connection with the Mori Gate incident, while nearly 4,000 suspected individuals from GB Road have been detained for unlawful activities related to prostitution, drug smuggling, and human trafficking."

He paused, then continued.

"Major mafia lords like Mukhtar Ahmed and Mrinal Shetty have been arrested. Anna Venkatesh is reported dead amid an internal gang war. Both prisoners are present here and will be produced before the court shortly."

A reporter immediately raised his hand.

"Sir, is it true that IB and Indian paramilitary forces were used in this civilian operation?"

A thin layer of sweat formed on Commissioner Bhusan Singh’s forehead. He smiled tightly and redirected.

"A system has many parts. Some contribution from different agencies is inevitable in such a large-scale operation. But the whole credit goes to our Indian Police forces. Around 2,000 of our personnel were actively on duty the entire night and have not returned home yet — all for your safety."

The reporter, sensing the deflection, asked another question.

"Sir, would it be possible to ask the accused a few questions?"

Bhusan Singh hesitated, then nodded.

"Very briefly."

First, Mrinal Shetty was brought forward, hands cuffed, face covered. He remained completely silent.

Then came Mukhtar Ahmed.

He was brought out in shackles, face partially covered, but his eyes were visible — cold and defiant. He smirked when he saw the cameras.

A reporter stepped forward.

"Do you have anything to say, Mr. Ahmed, before going to jail?"

Ahmed started laughing. He looked straight into the camera and spat.

"Fucking Indians... you know nothing. Two days... just two days I will be out and you ..."

He didn’t finish the sentence.

A voice suddenly called out from the side of the crowd.

"Mukhtar Ahmed."

Everyone turned.

Raju Plumber stood there, smiling calmly. Ahmed’s eyes widened in shock.

Raju didn’t waste a second. He raised his pistol and fired a single shot at point-blank range.

Bang!

The bullet hit Ahmed in the head. Chaos erupted. Reporters screamed and scrambled for cover. Police officers immediately raised their guns.

But Raju dropped his pistol and calmly bent down on one knee, raising both hands.

"I surrender... I surrender. Please don’t shoot."

Officers rushed in and detained him roughly.

The same reporter, gathering courage, asked with a shaky voice:

"What is your name? Why did you kill him?"

Raju looked straight into the camera, grinned, and said:

"I am Raju Plumber. I killed him simply.. because I want to be the next king."

The entire incident was being shown live on television as Rohit sat on his bed after a long shower. He closed the news channel and checked the time. It was almost 1:07 AM.

Earlier, he had spent nearly two hours calming Aunt Kavita before finally returning home. Then Raju had called, telling him to turn on the TV. So he did.

’I guess I’m going to have a peaceful sleep,’ Rohit thought, exhaling slowly.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

He got up and checked the monitor. Aisha was standing outside in her pajamas, looking nervous.

Rohit opened the door with raised eyebrows.

"I... I’m not able to sleep," she said softly.

He stepped aside without a word and let her in, then closed the door behind her with a dark smile.

*********************

A/N//: Apolgies for delay.