by Samit Basu
“You’re over-simplifying. Or maybe I just don’t understand,” Uzma says. She seems close to tears. Tia places a comforting hand on her arm, but Uzma shrugs it off.
Namrata looks hard as Uzma, and when she speaks again, her voice is low and gentle.
“It’s the way we live now, don’t you see? Nothing’s real — not poverty, not the high life, not terrorists, nothing. It’s all just stuff that happens on TV, and you can always, like, change the channel? It’s not like you can believe what TV tells you anyway. The internet just makes it worse. And that’s what gets me, you know? No one cares. Bombs go off all the time, in every city. Across the country, people die; everyone is sad for like a few seconds, and then flicks the remote.”
“Well, maybe your powers can help change that,” Aman says.
“Change what? The world could end tomorrow and no one would notice if Indian Idol was on at the same time. You know what made me decide to become a journalist? There were these attacks on Parliament, I was switching channels, and I saw this on the news — and I switched to a Grey’s Anatomy rerun. I felt so bad. I wanted to make a difference, to make people see what was important, to make them care and get mad about the way the world is. Because no one cares now — they don’t even notice. Not that I’ve managed to do anything of the sort so far. I just read out pieces to camera written by morons in Delhi who all got jobs because their parents are friends of the DNNTV owners.”
“Wow,” Tia says after another long pause. “Okay, I’m sorry. I thought you were a complete bimbo when I saw you on TV but I don’t any more. And I think I speak for everyone here.”
Namrata smiles wryly. “Thanks?”
Aman’s phone rings. He walks out of the cafe, talking hurriedly.
“Why does he carry a phone if he can take calls in his head?” Namrata asks Uzma.
“Habit, I guess,” Uzma replies.
When Aman returns, he can barely contain his excitement.
“That was Tia.”
“Did we find Jai?” Tia asks.
“Better,” Aman says. “Namrata, your protection has arrived. We have some muscle on our side. We found Vir. She’s bringing him home.”
“Who’s Vir?” Namrata asks.
“The guy you hoped we had back home,” Uzma says. “The strong guy.”
“Handsome flying muscle-man. Great kisser,” Tia says, and blushes.
“She — you — she said something’s wrong with him,” Aman says. “Vir was just sitting around outside the Coffee Day at Carter Road, waiting. He said he was hoping one of us would see him there. He didn’t recognise Tia at first, but when she told him who she was under her dirty makeup, she said he looked so happy he almost cried. He’s been injured — apparently he had to dig himself out from under a mountain. Thinks he’s lost his powers.”
“Are you sure we should bring him home?” Uzma asks. “I mean, you don’t really know whose side he’s on, do you?”
“Well, if Jai dropped a mountain on him, I’m willing to bet he’s feeling fairly sympathetic towards us now,” Aman says.
“Also, we don’t want him hanging around Mumbai waiting for Jai to kill him, especially if he’s weak,” Tia adds. “Most importantly, I want to see him.”
At this, a look passes between Aman and Tia.
Uzma shrugs. “Fine by me. I wished I’d met him last time, anyway.”
Tia rises and places a gentle hand on Namrata’s shoulder.
“It was lovely meeting you, darling,” she says, “but we really have to go now.”
“Are you kidding? I’m coming too!” There’s a martial light in Namrata’s eyes. “I figured you don’t want to tell me where you live, but do you really think I’m going anywhere else now? When I know that maniac is looking for me and you’ve got some strong flying man to protect you? You can, like, think again!”
“There is that empty room on my floor,” Uzma says. “And Vir could share with Tia if he’s staying, couldn’t he?”
Tia smacks her, and good humour is restored.
“But maybe it’s safer if you’re not with us, Namrata,” Aman says. “Safer for you, that is. Jai needs you alive, but he might lose it completely if he finds you with us. It might be better if you went along with this — brought Jai down from the inside in some way.”
“Were you even there at the stadium? Didn’t you see what I went through? I’m coming, and that’s final,” Namrata says. “You think I’m going to go back to work after this? You think anything can be normal again? I’m staying with you. I can pay you, if you like.”
Tia drives them back to the Yari Road house at the speed of a hurricane, almost killing several people along the way. They tear inside to find two Tias perched on the sofa, solicitously rubbing pain-relief ointment all over a semi-conscious and semi-clad Vir.
Aman’s growing irritation is tempered by an undeniable sense of relief at the sight of Vir, and the knowledge that the only person potentially capable of dealing with Jai Mathur and his tiger-headed friends is now sitting in his house. Tia gently awakens Vir, and as he stares at them, his face blank, Aman’s bubble of new-found confidence explodes with an almost audible pop. Something’s very wrong with Vir. Namrata steps forward, a million questions queuing up on her lips, but Aman stops her.
He sits next to Vir and asks, “What happened to you?”
Vir smiles bravely, then winces as some unseen pain grips him.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “My mind’s a bit scrambled. It’s been a difficult few days, and I’m so tired. But there are so many things I need to tell you. Is everyone here?”
Aman looks at a Tia on the couch, who says, “Bob and the Scientist are upstairs.”
“Should I call them?” Aman asks Vir.
“No, that’s all right. I just wanted to make sure that none of your team were missing. There’s been a new development. I have to show you.”
“Go on.”
“It’s outside.” Vir struggles to his feet, and they follow him as he walks to the door. He opens it.
Outside stand four men and a little girl. One of the men steps forward.
“Hi,” Jai says.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“This doesn’t have to be unpleasant,” Jai says, walking in.
Aman has never felt as crushingly powerless as he does now. Behind him, Uzma whimpers, and Namrata is speechless. Only Tia reacts: she dives back towards a sofa, whips out a gun from her bag, and two seconds later ten Tias stand in a row, guns pointed at the newcomers. They observe her with varying degrees of interest.
“Very pretty,” Jai says. “Have a seat.”
Jai’s followers line up beside him: the tiny Anima, her eyes dilating, sparkling, spreading across her pointed face; the hulking Sher, his tiger-stripes thickening, arcing lazily across his bald head. Mukesh smirks a greeting, his head tilted to one side, his forked tongue flicking obscenely at Tia through his cracking, widening lips.
At a signal from Jai, the avuncular poet Jerry shambles forward, looks yearningly at Uzma, and claps his hands. A flash of blue light illuminates the room.
Aman’s head spins as he’s disconnected. He staggers and almost falls.
“Vir. I can’t believe you did this,” a Tia says.
“Vir is no longer with us, alas,” Jai says. “This gentleman is called Vivek. May I also introduce Jerry, Sher, Anima and Mukesh. Oh, you’ve met Mukesh already, haven’t you?”
“And he’s met this,” another Tia says, waving her gun as threateningly as she can. Mukesh hisses at her, and takes a step forward.
“I asked you — nicely — to sit,” Jai says to Tia, stalling Mukesh with a bone-crushing hand on his shoulder. “Could you get me some water? It’s been a long day.”
“You’re not all bulletproof,” Tia snarls.
“This is boring,” Jai says. He stares calmly at Tia. Nobody moves, or breathes. When Jai runs a weary hand across his forehead, everyone in the room flinches.
“See, we can do this,” Jai says.
“We can fight, and see who’s stronger, and then if any of you survive I can take you back to my new base and torture you. But I’m trying to be nice here. So… are you going to be adults about this, or do I have to start counting to three?”
Aman walks slowly back to a sofa. Uzma follows, keeping her eyes to the ground. Namrata is rooted to the spot, gaping at Jai, her large eyes tear-filled. Jai deliberately turns his back on the Tias and waves at Namrata.
“You should have told me about your friends,” he says.
“Jai, I swear, I just met them,” Namrata blurts.
“I know. Good work — it took you just a few minutes to locate and infiltrate. There should be more journalists like you. Hell, there should be more soldiers like you.”
Behind Jai, Uzma and Aman sit. The Tias drop their guns.
“Smart,” Jai says. “Now, water, please.”
Flushed with rage, a Tia heads towards the kitchen.
Jai turns to Uzma with a beaming smile.
“So what do you do, madam?” he asks. “We haven’t been formally introduced.”
“They’re good people, Jai,” Namrata says. “Please don’t hurt them. They’re just trying to survive. Please, just talk things through.”
“Talk things through? What does it look like I’m doing?” Jai asks, his expression bewildered and hurt. “Namrata, since you’re good at these things, could you perform introductions?”
Namrata nods. “Aman, Tia, Uzma, meet Jai Mathur,” she says.
Jai turns to the sofa and gazes earnestly down at them.
“Which one’s the internet operator?” he asks.
“That would be Aman,” Namrata says.
Jai sticks out a hand and Aman shakes it gingerly, half expecting Jai to rip off his arm.
“Impressive work,” Jai says. “You couldn’t have found a better way to get my attention. Your skills are just what I need to really round off my core team — though a few friends of mine want their money back. And that would make Uzma here our crowd manipulator?”
“No, she’s not,” Namrata says. “Whoever that is, he’s not here.”
“No? That’s good to know. What is your power, then, my dear?”
“I don’t know,” Uzma replies.
“Is attractiveness a superpower?” Jai enquires. “What do you think, Namrata?”
“I don’t know,” Namrata says. “And the other lady is Tia. Jai… may I go now, please? I’ve done what you asked.”
Jai studies her for a few seconds.
“Yes, go,” he says finally. “And, Namrata, I have a new assignment for you. Find this mob controller for me, will you?”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Given what you’ve done for me this evening, your best should be good enough. Take care of yourself.”
Namrata doesn’t meet anyone’s eyes as she hurries out of the house. Jai turns to the others and rubs his palms together briskly.
“Can’t really open up in front of the media,” he says. “Now, let’s talk business.”
“What do you want from us?” Aman asks.
“I want you to forget the past, and look ahead to a glorious future. I’m putting together a team,” Jai says. “And I want all of you to join me.”
“Except this Tia,” Mukesh says. “We don’t want her. She ruined the base.”
“This is true,” Jai says. “Jerry, Vivek — could you get behind Sher, please?”
Jerry and Vivek dart behind the massive Sher.
“Thank you,” Jai says. “Anima? Kill Tia, please.”
Anima screeches and rises into the air, a green glow enveloping her.
Some of the Tias raise their guns and fire indiscriminately, but the few shots that hit their target produce no discernible effect. Before Tia has time to fire a second round, a stream of glowing arrows blazes across the room. Chunks of plaster spurt from the walls, sparks sizzle across the floor, and all the Tias crumble into dust.
Uzma screams, falls to the floor and covers her face. Aman kneels beside her, holding her instinctively, though he knows he can offer her no protection whatsoever. All he can do is glare impotently at Jai.
Anima squeals, high-pitched, gleeful, and the TV screen shatters. Her face has transformed completely into a cartoon: her mouth is round, pink and toothless, empty except for a cute red tongue.
“I hope you have backup copies of that woman,” Jai says. “If we don’t manage to get her to see the light, she’ll make the world’s best target practice. Now, don’t move for a bit. You wouldn’t want to draw Anima’s attention.”
Aman stays down, bullets and screams still echoing in his ears. The room is full of smoke, and it’s suddenly very hot. There’s a thudding sound. Aman knows what it is: footsteps on the stairs. He doesn’t dare to shout out a warning, Tia’s look of pain as Anima’s weapons burned through her is fresh in his memory, but he hopes whoever it is will not be stupid enough to run at the sound of gunfire, and that none of Jai’s crew has heard the footsteps…
Bob races into the living room.
Anima giggles and hurls a spear of light at him.
“No!” Aman and Sher yell simultaneously. Sher hurls himself at Anima, dragging her to the ground, growling in pain as green sparks sizzle through his tiger fur. But it’s too late; the spear flies true and lands in Bob’s chest. Bob goes down.
Aman and Uzma, all danger forgotten, race to him. But there’s nothing they can do. Bob is gone. Uzma shuts his wide, staring eyes.
Aman hurls himself at Jai. It’s the first time he’s ever attacked anyone, and he couldn’t have chosen a worse target. Jai lets Aman land a few knuckle-tearing punches, and then tosses him contemptuously into a sofa. Aman falls heavily, and then struggles to his feet, ashen-faced.
Kneeling by Bob’s body, Uzma heaves with silent sobs.
“You fool. He could control the weather,” Aman says. “He could have done so much good. He could have done so much.”
“Hmm. That is sad,” Jai says. “Is there anyone else? They should come down quietly.”
“They have,” Sundar says. He advances into the room, his ray-gun in his hands. He fires.
A beam of bright light emerges from the gun. Everyone dives for cover but Jerry. The light envelops him. There’s a sizzle, the smell of ozone, and Jerry vanishes.
“Sundar! Get away!” Aman roars.
Sundar fires wildly around the room, but Jai and his cohorts are too fast for him. Scientifically analyzing his chances against a super-soldier, a tiger-headed man and a cartoon schoolgirl, Sundar realises they are minimal, backs away, firing, and then turns and runs for the stairs.
“Take him out,” Jai snaps, rising. He turns to Anima and finds she’s human again, staring open-mouthed at Bob’s body.
“I’ve been bad again,” she says.
“It doesn’t matter. Sher, Mukesh, you’re not moving. Why?”
“We could use these two as shields,” Mukesh mutters.
“Can’t risk them. Go.”
“Okay, so we need him,” Mukesh indicates Aman, “but what about her? He won’t fire at her.”
“Don’t make me ask again.”
Mukesh shoots a frightened glance at Jai and heads off with Sher.
A door slams upstairs.
Aman picks up his bruised body and runs to Uzma. He tries to think of comforting words, but his brain appears to have shut down. Since Jerry’s disappearance, he’s been feeling the digital world on the edges of his mind again, but he doesn’t really think Google can help him out of his current situation.
Jai comes up to them, looks at Bob’s body and sighs.
“I hope you learned a lesson today, Aman.”
Aman forces himself not to look at Jai, to say nothing.
“This is what happens when people with no experience take on missions too big for them. I hope you realise his death was your fault,” Jai says. “If you’d only helped me from the start instead of making your own bid for power, this innocent boy would still be aliv
e. What made you think you had any chance of achieving anything, Aman? You just don’t have the right training for this.”
It’s Uzma who turns sharply, her tear-streaked face incredulous.
“And you — you do?” she gasps.
“Maybe not,” Jai says with a shrug, “but who’s going to stop me?”
Mukesh comes skidding in. “Man — sir, there’s a problem.”
Jai sighs deeply. “Of course there is. What?”
“He’s locked himself in. Sher can’t do anything. I’m much stronger than he is, but even I —”
“Really, Mukesh? Your moment of glory is ruined by — a door? Watch these two.” Jai strides away, his impenetrable skin more than enough protection against Mukesh’s enraged glare.
Mukesh waits until he’s gone, and then springs towards Aman and Uzma. He punches Aman, knocking him to the floor, and grabs Uzma. He licks her face roughly with his forked tongue, choking off her outraged yell with a scaly hand.
“Leave her alone,” a shrill voice says. It’s Anima. She hovers above them, a large light-mace in her hands.
“Buzz off, kid,” Mukesh snarls. “Adult stuff happening.”
“You made me do bad things,” Anima whispers. “Don’t hurt her. I like her.”
Aman hauls himself up, his head ringing, as Mukesh hisses angrily at Anima, but lets Uzma go.
“It’s Anima, right? I’m Uzma,” Uzma says. “This man is very evil. Could you hit him, please?”
Anima nods, smiles shyly and throws her mace at Mukesh. It hits him in the face, and knocks him out.
“Now him,” Uzma says, pointing at Vivek.
“Hey, people, there’s no need for this,” Vivek says, rising from the sofa hurriedly. “I’m a peaceful man. I’m just an actor.”
“Wait,” Aman says. Anima looks questioningly at Uzma, who nods.
Aman charges at Vivek and releases all his anger, all his guilt, in one unstoppable punch that knocks the shapeshifter out. Aman turns to Uzma, rubbing his fist.
“Kind of wanted to do that since I first met Vir,” he says. “Now we save Sundar.”
“I think we should get out of here,” Uzma says. “I’m sorry, but I don’t want to die today.”
“Really? Just leave him? No.”
