The unnamed ship cut through the midnight sea, its rusted hull groaning under the monsoon's relentless rain. In the hold, Robin Seth cradled Tara, his five-year-old daughter, her eyes fluttering shut as he whispered a lullaby, shielding her from the carnage to come. His Fighting instincts, burned like a black flame. Rocky Bhai's Organization, their Trigger front a veil for their trafficking ring, had dared to touch Tara. His smartwatch pinged, the AI-driven health app flashing. The Boss, an A-level Shadow Council operative, had targeted Tara with depraved intent, and "Blade" Sharma had ordered the ship to sail, planning to erase all witnesses. Robin would erase them first.
Tara safe in a corner, wrapped in his jacket, Robin moved—a ghost in the dark. Raka Kumar, a B-level brute, loomed, chain in hand. "You're dead, Seth," Raka snarled. Robin's energy strike, a palm glowing faintly with focused power, smashed through Raka's chest, dropping him lifeless in a single blow. Trigger's guards froze, then charged, but Robin was a storm—kicks shattered ribs, elbows crushed skulls, a trail of bodies littering the hold. No blood touched Tara's corner.
"Blade" Sharma, on the bridge, sensed the slaughter below. "Move the ship!" he barked, but panic cracked his voice. He fled toward the deck, knife glinting, only to meet Robin's shadow. "You're done, Blade," Robin growled, his energy-infused palm strike exploding against Blade's chest. The Trigger's Right Hand crumpled, lifeless, his reign ended.
The Boss emerged, his A-level aura dark, his eyes gleaming with twisted hunger. "The Seth girl's mine," he sneered, drawing a blade. Robin's rage erupted, he took the bosses blade ans infused energy in it, and sung, his energy strike a precise arc that severed the Boss's head in a clean flash, his depravity silenced forever. Trigger's surviving men, horrified, dropped their weapons, but Robin spared none—each fell, a testament to his wrath.
Aisha Seth, unconscious on the bridge, her crimson dress torn, lay bound near Blade's body. Manoj Singh and Kiran, the Hunters, lay bloodied nearby, ribs cracked and shoulder dislocated from the Boss's earlier assault. Captain Ganesh's police, subdued on the dock, couldn't reach the ship as it sailed. Robin, unseen, ensured the scene was clean of his presence. He scooped Tara, still sleeping, and slipped to the ship's edge, signaling Priya Reddy on Sanjay's boat below. He texted an anonymous tip to the police—"Trigger neutralized, kids safe"—and leapt to the jetty, Tara in his arms, vanishing into the rain.
Back on shore, Priya, coordinated with Sanjay Gupta. "Robin's out." "Sanjay's cams caught the ship—cops are coming."
Aisha awoke amid the carnage, her head throbbing. Vikram Malhotra, slinking aboard after the fighting, knelt beside her, his suit drenched. "I took care of Trigger," he lied, his voice smooth. "Saved the kids." His cowardice, hidden on the dock, morphed into a bold claim, his ambition to claim Aisha's empire burning. Aisha, dazed, clutched at hope, but Tara's absence among the rescued children—six others, freed but not her—sent panic through her.
Manoj, limping, and Kiran, clutching her shoulder, surveyed the deck. "A very powerful master did this," Manoj muttered, awestruck by the Boss's severed head. "Blade, Raka, the lot—wiped out." Kiran nodded, her eyes wide. "No ordinary fighter. Who?"
At the Fernandes villa in Hyderabad, Anna Fernandes paced, her salwar kameez creased with worry. Her phone buzzed—Robin's message: "Tara's safe, home soon." When Aisha, escorted by police, arrived, Anna's relief spilled out. "Robin brought Tara back, Aisha di! She's safe!"
Aisha's face twisted, relief warring with anger. "He took her without telling me?" she snapped, her voice raw. "Selfish, reckless—" Her memory of Robin's reliability faltered, Vikram Malhotra's lie clouding her judgment. "I'll deal with him."
Vikram, hovering nearby, smirked. "Robin's a liability, Aisha. I handled this," he said, his deception a blade. His ties to Rocky Bhai, now useless with Trigger's fall, left him scrambling to spin the narrative.
At Charminar Villa, Vikram Rao sipped chai, his mind on the underworld's shift. "Robin's a storm," he told his men. "Trigger's gone—he's a force. Naga's Son will want answers."
Robin, back in Hyderabad, tucked Tara into bed, her stuffed bear recovered from the ship. Her sleepy smile, calling him "hero," was his world. But the Rockey gang's shadow grew—Trigger's fall would draw their wrath. He'd saved Tara, but the war wasn't over.