Sector 29 wasn't on any map anymore.
Once known as Janakpuri, it had been reduced to a half-functioning slum town beneath the great looming shadow of Mayapuri. Buildings stood like broken teeth. Tangled wires hung like spiderwebs between cracked rooftops. Every alley hummed with the low murmur of desperation. Drunkards, scavengers, and ex-soldiers with twitchy fingers drifted through the ruins, and every eye turned toward Anchal's group like they were prey.
But Anchal Rathod was not prey.
She stood tall, lean, wrapped in a dark hood, her eyes scanning everything. Her team followed closely behind, unsure, tense, but trusting her. It was she who finally broke the silence.
"We find shelter first," she said. "Somewhere we can return to. Somewhere that's ours. Then we find a way in."
"Into Mayapuri?" Pawan asked, still slightly panting from the long walk.
"No," Anchal said, her voice calm. "Back home."
For a moment, that word echoed between them. Home. It felt like a dream. A place none of them had seen since the collapse. But now, for the first time, it sounded reachable.
Mansi groaned, holding her back. "I swear, if I die in this stinkhole, I'll haunt whoever named it Sector 29."
That earned a rare laugh from the group. Even Suchitra smiled gently at Mansi, brushing dust from her own sleeves.
They scouted for an hour before they found it—a sturdy, multi-storey building on the edge of the slum, partially hidden by collapsed towers. The front door was jammed but intact. Inside, it was dusty, hollow, but solid. A forgotten government office, maybe. It would do.
"Sumit," Anchal ordered, "secure all exits. Find every door and window. Keep one emergency path hidden and untraceable."
"On it," Sumit said, cracking his knuckles.
"Pawan, use the junk we carried to patch up the windows. Get creative. I want cover and comfort. Beds, storage, whatever we can improvise. Prioritize water."
Pawan nodded quickly, already pulling materials from his sack.
"Mansi, Suchitra — take inventory of what we brought. Organize it. Prep meals. If possible, scout for salvageable supplies around the area."
As they began to disperse, Pawan paused, turning toward Anchal. "And you?"
Anchal slid a narrow scarf over her lower face and adjusted the brim of her hat. "I'm going to listen."
The streets of Sector 29 were a lesson in silence and survival. Anchal walked like a shadow, her footsteps light, her eyes always moving. Men leaned against walls with cracked bottles. Traders barked half-heartedly about tech scraps. Children with hollow eyes stared at her like she didn't belong.
She moved deeper, closer to the ruined core of the slum. That's when she found it — a squat building with broken neon still flickering: "MIRAGE – BAR & BETS". Outside, a man was being thrown into the street. A bottle shattered nearby.
Inside, noise pulsed. Smoke clung to the ceiling. Somewhere, people laughed like they didn't know what was coming.
Perfect.
Anchal slipped through the crowd, keeping her head low. She moved toward the back, past a row of tables littered with tokens and rations. But just as she brushed a curtain, a hand grabbed her shoulder.
"Where do you think you're going?"
She turned to face a thickset man with arms like tree trunks. His eyebrows met like a crowbar.
Before she could lie, a chair flew across the room. A brawl erupted behind them—bottles shattering, people screaming. Anchal didn't hesitate. She slid low, snatched a fallen ID badge from a scurrying waitress, and vanished into the smoke.
Back at their hideout, dusk had fallen.
Pawan handed Anchal a cup of water as she entered. She took it, nodding slightly.
Sumit grinned. "Welcome back, boss. Did the queen conquer her little kingdom?"
"Jealous much?" Pawan said, nudging him.
"Of course. Who wouldn't be? Our fearless leader returns without a scratch."
"I do spy work," Anchal said, sipping. "You flex muscles. We all have our roles." The team settled down as she laid out the plan. "There's a bar-slash-casino in the core. Not Dominion, but important enough to get noticed. If there's a way into Mayapuri, it starts there. They run high-stake poker tables. Winner gets an audience with the owner."
"So, what's the plan?" Sumit asked.
"Tomorrow, I go in. Sumit, you're with me — act like muscle. Play along, look tough."
Sumit smirked. "Finally, something I'm born for."
"I'm coming too," Mansi interrupted. "It's poker. I can count cards. It's just math."
Anchal raised an eyebrow. Then nodded. "Fine. We play it safe, draw attention without suspicion."
The next evening, the trio slipped into Mirage.
Sumit wore a secondhand guard vest and flexed so hard his shirt sleeves threatened to pop. Mansi wore patched noble attire stolen from an abandoned trunk. Anchal moved like she belonged, cool and silent.
They entered the lounge. At the center, a single poker table glowed under a yellow light.
"Buy-in?" the dealer asked.
Anchal placed a small golden brooch on the table — something she'd scavenged weeks ago. The man inspected it, then gave them chips.
The game began.
At first, Mansi played quiet — small bets, minimal movement. But her eyes never left the cards. She started winning. Then more. Then everything.
Players grumbled. Some accused cheating. Security watched.
A red light blinked.
"Guests," a voice said through a speaker. "Please follow the guard to the upper lounge."
They were escorted through a hidden elevator shaft, up to a lavish room with velvet walls and high ceilings. Behind a desk covered in camera monitors stood a tall, lean man in a crisp suit and sunglasses.
"Welcome," he said. "I'm Robin Rayudu. Owner of Mirage and several...less visible assets."
He pointed at Mansi. "You don't belong here. Not because you cheated — you didn't — but because no one in Sector 29 can calculate odds like that. You're Dominion-born."
Silence. Mansi blinked. Then lifted her chin.
"Yeah? And what of it?"
He chuckled. "Let me guess. Noble daughter, showing rebellion? Slumming it to prove something to your highborn parents?"
Anchal jumped in. "Exactly. And she intends to enter Mayapuri. That's our goal."
Rayudu's smile thinned. "That's a dangerous game. But I like games."
Mansi stepped forward. "Help us. Or I send word to my father. You know what that means."
He paused. His posture shifted.
After a long beat, he exhaled. "Fine. You'll enter as noble and her staff. But I expect silence. No trails, no betrayals."
Anchal nodded.
Robin pressed a button. "Prepare residence passes. One noble. Four servants."
Thus, a full month before Shivam's team would even dream of reaching the sky, Anchal Rathod and her group stepped into the edge of power. The floating gates of Mayapuri had just opened.
And behind their quiet entrance, the real game had only just begun.