At night
The vibrant pulse of the bar throbbed with the energy of a long evening. Music blasted through dim neon lights, mingling with the clink of glasses and drunken laughter. On a small platform stage, Gauri moved stiffly, her sequined black dress glittering in the hazy spotlight. Every step, every note she forced out betrayed that this wasn't her world. But tonight, she wasn't herself — she was bait.
Unseen amidst the crowd were Vihaan's men, disguised as restless patrons with half-finished drinks. Their relaxed poses masked the sharp vigilance in their eyes, each one scanning the room with quiet intensity.
Outside, parked discreetly down the street, Vihaan sat in a dark SUV, his phone glowing against his face. His jaw was set, eyes locked on the bar's entrance.
"Anything yet?" his voice murmured into the earpiece.
"Nothing so far, sir," one of his men replied, Harsh's voice nearly drowned by the pounding bass. "Just the usual crowd. Too much smoke, too much liquor."
"Stay sharp," Vihaan said flatly, his fingers tapping the steering wheel. "The Hooded Man won't stay in the shadows forever. The second he moves, I want to know."
Inside, Gauri's voice cut through the smoky air, low and shaky but steady enough to keep the crowd's eyes on her. The room seemed wrapped around her song. Then, suddenly… something shifted.
The noise died. One by one, men collapsed, glasses slipping from loose fingers, bodies slumping across tables or sliding bonelessly to the floor. Within moments, the bar had gone deathly silent.
Gauri froze mid-line, panic flooding her veins. Her wide eyes darted across the fallen patrons, her breath hitching as she realized she was the only one left standing.
And then—he emerged. The Hooded Man. His figure materialized from the shadows at the edge of the stage, the dim light catching the steel pipe in his hand.
Gauri's throat closed. A piercing scream ripped from her, shattering the silence. "Aaaaah!"
Outside, Vihaan's head snapped up. His blood ran cold. He knew that voice.
"Gauri!" he growled, shoving open the SUV door and sprinting across the street.
He burst into the bar, senses on high alert. The air was thick with a strange, chemical scent. Dozens of bodies lay unconscious, sprawled across the sticky floor. But Gauri was gone. And so was the Hooded Man.
A growing knot of ice formed in Vihaan's stomach as his gaze fell upon a dark, viscous stain spreading across the worn wooden floor near the stage. Spilled blood. The silence of the bar now felt heavy, ominous, a stark testament to the violence that had just transpired.
The sight of the fallen bodies and the stain of blood sent a cold wave of fury through him. Moving with sharp precision, Vihaan unclasped the ornate silver bracelet he wore on his left wrist. The moment it slipped free, a vibrant, crimson light pulsed from his open palm, spilling over the unconscious figures in an eerie glow. His lips moved in a low, ancient incantation, channeling a surge of raw, crimson energy into the still forms.
A collective gasp rippled through the bar. Eyes fluttered open, confusion clouding the faces of the men as they stirred, pushing themselves up from the sticky floor. Disoriented, they rubbed their heads, muttered about sudden dizziness, and looked around in bewilderment, grasping for answers that weren't there.
Vihaan, his task completed, swiftly refastened the bracelet, the crimson glow vanishing the instant silver touched his skin. He observed silently, a grim satisfaction hardening his expression. They were awake, unharmed by whatever had felled them, and utterly oblivious to the subtle magic that had saved them.
Their focus remained on their grogginess and the strange, cloying scent that lingered in the air—not on the silent figure watching with predatory intensity. The urgency to find Gauri burned hotter in Vihaan's chest, fueled by the knowledge that the Hooded Man was capable of such swift and devastating violence.
As Harsh pushed himself up from the floor, rubbing the back of his neck, Vihaan was already at his side, his gaze sharp and urgent. "Harsh, what happened? What did you see?"
Harsh blinked, his eyes still unfocused. "I… I don't know, sir. One moment I was watching the crowd, the next… nothing. Like someone flipped a switch. Everything just went black." His voice was thick with confusion. "And Gauri? Is she…" His words trailed off, dread tightening his throat as he caught the storm in Vihaan's eyes.
"Gauri's gone," Vihaan said flatly, scanning the recovering patrons with cold precision. "And so is the Hooded Man."
Harsh's eyes widened in shock. "Gone? But… how? I didn't see anything. No struggle, no one leaving." He shook his head, trying to clear the lingering fog. "Sir… the way everyone just collapsed… it wasn't normal, was it?" His voice trembled as he looked at Vihaan, horror dawning. "Do you think… is it possible the Hooded Man isn't even human?"
Vihaan's gaze darkened, his silence weighted with unspoken truths. The ease with which the Hooded Man had crippled an entire bar, the way he vanished with Gauri without leaving a trace—it pointed to something far beyond human. Vihaan didn't answer. His silence was answer enough.