Thecamera pans over a sprawling, fort perched atop a hill overlooking thecity of Delhi. The fort is a shadow of its former glory, its cracked stone walls covered in moss and vines. A VTOL aircraft descends slowly into the overgrown courtyard, its thrusters kicking up clouds of dust and loose debris.The VTOL's hatch open, and Aditya steps out, flanked by his team. Jigen Shang walks beside him, his serene expression a stark contrast to the fort's rugged state.
Aditya (frowning, surveying the fort):
Whe-..Where are we, Master Jigen?
Jigen Shang:
This was once the beating heart of the Indian Sentinel Squad, Aditya. The old ISS headquarters, a fortress of strategy and power. In the past, the ISS also owned a grand headquarters in the main city of Delhi, but... this fort is all that remains.
The team exchanges uneasy glances as they take in the fort's deteriorating state. The tension breaks when a man in military clothing steps forward, flanked by few officers. He places a hand on his chest in salute, his face lighting up with a mix of awe and disbelief as he looks at Aditya.
Varun Saha (with reverence):
Welcome back, Master. After all these years, I cannot believe I am seeing Dharma Pratap's heir standing here before me.
Aditya (awkwardly):
Uh... old man, what are you doing? You don't have to call me 'master.' This feels weird.
Varun quickly adjusts his posture, his tone apologetic yet firm.
Varun Saha:
My apologies. I should have introduced myself first. I am Varun Saha, younger brother of Vikram Saha. Both of us served under your grandfather, but... after Dharma's death, Vikram destroyed the ISS from within. We fought to hold our ground, but without proper leadership, we were overwhelmed. All we could do was retreat to this old fort to preserve what little remained of our name.
Jigen Shang:
Varun has been the ISS's most loyal servant these past two decades. While the world descended into chaos, he maintained what little order he could, waiting for this day. I vouch for his loyalty.
Varun Saha:
For twenty years, I thought the time would never come when I could once again serve under the Pratap family. And now, to stand before his heir... It feels like a fever dream.
Aditya (firmly):
I understand your dedication, and I respect it. But I am not my grandfather, Varun. If you want my trust, you'll have to earn it from the ground up.
Varun falls to his knees, tears streaming down his face.
Varun Saha (choking up):
Thank you, Master. To rebuild this squad from the ground, to serve you —this is the purpose of my life. Whatever you ask of me, it will be done.
Varun leads the group into the fort's laboratory, a dusty room filled with outdated equipment covered in cobwebs. Broken monitors flicker faintly, and rusted machines line the walls.
Ajay (scanning the equipment):
Most of this stuff is ancient. The machines are jammed, and the circuits are fried.
Harshit (examining a device):
Nothing we can't fix, though.
Ajay nods, already envisioning the repairs.
Ajay:
We'll get to work as soon as we can.
The group moves to the library, a grand hall with towering bookshelves. Most of the books are buried under layers of dust, and some shelves have collapsed entirely. Ashvin's eyes light up as he surveys the room.
Ashvin (grinning):
This is my kind of place. A little worse for wear, but nothing some magic can't fix.
He conjures a magical brush, which begins sweeping through the room, clearing dust and repairing damaged books.
Ashvin:
I'll start digging through these archives. If there's any info on Vikram, it's probably buried in here.
Next, Varun takes them to an underground arena, a large chamber filled with old training dummies, rusted weapons, and broken mechanical sparring devices. Rashi examines the equipment with a critical eye.
Rashi:
It's a mess, but it's salvageable. Give me some time, and I can get this place operational again.
Steve:
I'll help.
The two exchange determined nods, already planning the restoration process.
The final stop is the armory, a cluttered room that resembles a storage dump. Weapons and armor are scattered haphazardly, covered in dust and grime.
Shivam (grinning):
I guess it's my turn then.
He shuts the door behind him, the sounds of clattering metal and muffled curses echoing from inside as he begins his work.
The group arrives at the main hall, a grand room with a long round table at its centre. Chairs line the table, and at the far end sits a dusty commander chair, its grandeur diminished by years of neglect.
Varun Saha (reverently):
This is where Dharma Pratap once sat, surrounded by his advisors. This hall was the heart of the ISS's operations—a place of strategy and judgment. Your grandfather was a king in all but name.
Aditya approaches the table, dragging his hand across its dusty surface. He pauses before the throne, then pulls away the cloth covering it, sending a cloud of dust into the air.
Aditya exhales deeply as he sits on the chair, then speaks with quiet authority.
Aditya:
Master Jigen, I want you to transfer all available equipment, technology, and some of your disciples to this fort. It needs to be operational before sunset.
Jigen Shang (nodding):
As you wish, Commander.
Aditya (turning to Varun):
General Varun, go to the city. Hire anyone willing to work. Contact former soldiers and those still loyal to the ISS. Tell them this: the ISS breathes once again, and I, Aditya Pratap, want to speak to them.
Varun salutes, his eyes shining with pride and determination.
Varun Saha (smiling):
It will be done, Commander. The ISS will rise again.
The camera opens in the dilapidated lab, where Harshit and Ajay are hunched over a tangle of wires and old equipment.
Ajay (grumbling):
This is ridiculous. Half of this stuff is prehistoric! I swear, some of these machines look like they were built before the invention of electricity.
Harshit (sarcastically):
Yeah, and you look like you were built to sleep on couches and complain.
Ajay:
Hey! I'm just saying, we'll need to replace half of this junk. I can scavenge some second-hand parts from the city later. Maybe even a few modern processors if I don't break the bank.
As they continue working, a voice suddenly echoes in their minds.
Voice (broadcasting):
Testing, 1-2-3... check, check. This is a neural broadcast test. If anyone can hear this, please respond.
Harshit freezes, his spanner dropping to his side. His eyes widen as he glances at Ajay.
Harshit:
Ashvin Bhai, is that you?
Another voice cuts in, smoother and smug.
Ashvin:
Oh? So the original spell did work. Fascinating.
Suddenly, another voice booms in, full of confusion and irritation.
Shivam:
What kind of sorcery is this? Why can I hear everyone's voices in my head?!
Rashi (dryly):
Calm down. It's not sorcery; it's Ashvin being extra, as usual.
Ashvin:
Extra? Excuse you, I'm improving our communication network. I found some old documents mentioning spells used by the previous Sorcerer. This is a refurbished version of one of those spells.
Steve (laughing):
In an information war, we've already won with a spell like this.
Ashvin (cutting off the comms):
Alright, I'll tweak the spell later. Everyone, back to work. Ashvin out.
The voices fade, leaving Harshit and Ajay staring at each other in disbelief.
Harshit crouches beside a crumbling main grid, sparks flying as he cuts out rotten wires and welds new connections. He traces the cables back to the generator room, which is covered in rust and dust.
Harshit (muttering):
Alright, old man, let's see if you've got any life left in you.
He flips the main switch, and the generator rumbles to life, coughing and sputtering before settling into a steady hum. A flicker of light surges through the cables, spreading across the lab as systems come online one by one. Monitors blink to life, their faint glow illuminating the room.
The camera cuts to the underground arena, where Rashi is inspecting old sparring devices. The sudden flood of light startles her as the ancient training systems buzz faintly with energy.
Rashi (smiling):
Well, look at that. The old relics still have some spark left. Guess I better get these operational too.
Inside the cluttered armory, Shivam stops mid-swing as a sword in his hand catches the light.
Shivam (grinning): Finally, some proper lighting! Now I can find the good stuff in this junk pile.
In the courtyard, Varun Saha looks up as the fort's windows begin to glow. Tears fill his eyes as he watches the lights come to life, the hum of electricity filling the air.
Varun (softly):
For twenty years, I never thought I'd see this place lit again. We always tried to connect it to the power grid, but it failed every time. Now... it feels like the ISS is truly breathing again.
Behind him, Jigen Shang steps out of a newly landed VTOL, his disciples following. Jigen's normally stoic expression softens as he sees the glowing windows.
Jigen Shang (quietly):
This... this is how it should be. Dharma, your legacy is stirring once more.
The camera opens on Steve, his shoulders glistening with sweat as he surveys the crumbling outer walls of the fort. Workers guide him through the site, pointing out sections where stones have collapsed and defensive structures have eroded over time.
Worker 1 (gesturing to a cracked wall):
This section here... it won't last another storm, let alone an attack. We've been patching it with mortar, but it keeps crumbling.
Steve nods, his face calm and focused. With a flick of his wrist, massive stone walls rise from the ground, filling in the gaps with precise alignment. The workers step back, their jaws dropping in awe as the structures seamlessly meld with the existing walls.
Worker 1 (whispering):
Did you see that?
Worker 2 (shaking his head):
With power like that, how has someone like him been hidden all this time? He could've brought Vikram to his knees by now.
The workers lead Steve to the main gate, now reduced to a splintered heap barely hanging onto its hinges.
Worker 3:
This is beyond saving. We'd need a miracle to rebuild it.
Steve (smiling):
Good thing I'm here.
Steve walks over to a clearing near the fort, flicking his hand. Tall trees erupt from the ground, growing rapidly. He snaps a thick branch, molding it into a makeshift axe. With a single swing, the tree falls gracefully, the log already trimmed and smooth.
The workers watch in stunned silence as Steve repeats this process, stacking logs in a perfect pile. He kneels, swiftly carving the wood into planks and beams. With another gesture, the beams rise into place, seamlessly forming a new reinforced gate that swings sturdily on fresh hinges.
Worker 3 (awed):
I've never seen anything like this... He's a one-man army.
Worker 1:
And yet, there's no arrogance—just purpose.
Steve, brushing sawdust off his hands, turns to the workers with a small smile.
The workers exchange glances, nodding in admiration as they follow Steve to the next section of the fort.