The monsoon rain lashed Hyderabad's Gachibowli, drumming against the high-end villa of Ranjeet Varma, a fortress of faded glory where the Hunters' legacy clung to life. Inside, the air was heavy with the weight of secrets as Ranjeet, frail but sharp as a Charminar blade, sat across from his granddaughter Meera Varma. Her tablet glowed with classified reports of the east dock massacre, where Trigger's entire operation—Blade Sharma, Raka Kumar, and the shadowy Boss—had been obliterated. Ranjeet's eyes gleamed, his voice raspy but resolute. "Robin Seth, the old Don Robin, is the grandmaster behind this—maybe even Supreme level," he said, his deduction cutting through the room's tension. "No one else could carve through an A-level like the Boss with such precision."
Meera's brow furrowed, skepticism battling intrigue. "Don Robin? A stay-at-home dad now?" she said, voice sharp. "He vanished after marrying Aisha Seth, and she divorced him—her folly, not his. Underworld roots, a hidden master—can we trust a man like that, Grandfather?"
Ranjeet leaned forward, his cane tapping the marble floor. "His talent, his hatred of evil—it's what the Hunters need to crush Rocky Bhai's Organization," he said. "Pride or not, we'll recruit him. He's our edge." Meera nodded, her doubt lingering but her curiosity piqued. "I'll meet him with you," she said, "but if he's Don Robin, he's a wildfire—hard to control."
Across Hyderabad, in the Old City's Charminar Villa, Vikram Rao's opulent lair pulsed with menace. The Rao Gang boss, his silk kurta pristine despite the storm, met with his scarred deputy, Anil, in a room lined with gold-trimmed relics. News of Trigger's annihilation had shaken the underworld's balance. "Robin Seth did this," Vikram Rao said, voice low, awestruck. "A thirty-year-old Grandmaster. That's a myth made flesh." He turned to Anil, his gaze sharp. "Befriend him. Offer my best—men, cash, even my prized aide, Neha Kapoor, to secure his favor. We can't afford to be his enemy."
Anil's eyes narrowed, his loyalty unwavering. "Rocky Bhai's Organization will come for blood," he warned. "If Robin's with us, we tip the scales." Vikram Rao nodded, his mind racing. "Make it happen. Don Robin's a storm, and we'll ride it."
Aisha, blind to Robin's truth, took Tara's hand, her eyes blazing with resentment fueled by Vikram Malhotra's lies—his false claim to save Tara. "You're exploiting her rescue to steal custody," Aisha hissed, her voice a whip. "You'll never see her again, Robin. Horizon Enterprises will bury you."
Robin's smartwatch pinged, his pulse steady, his Don Robin fire smoldering beneath an icy calm. "Keep her safe, Aisha," he said, voice low, lethal. "One more failure, and Tara's mine—no bet, no mercy." Fear of Rocky Bhai's unseen masters seeking vengeance for Trigger's fall forced his restraint, but his heart burned for Tara. He let her go, each step she took with Aisha a knife in his chest.
Tara's eyes welled up, her voice piercing. "Daddy saved me!" she cried, clutching her bear. "The bad men took me, but Daddy came!" Aisha turned away, deaf to her daughter's truth, Vikram's deceit a fog over her mind.
Vikram Malhotra, lurking near the villa's entrance, smirked, his ego bruised by Aisha's cold dismissal. Her exhaustion had shut down his advances, so he pivoted, his sights on Priya Reddy. "Robin's done," he muttered, typing a flirtatious selfie to Priya. "Join me, Priya. We'll outshine Aisha's empire." Priya's phone buzzed, but she ignored it, her loyalty to Robin ironclad. "Vikram's a snake," she told Robin, her voice warm with conviction. "Take over Regal Club, crush Aisha's Horizon. You've got this." Her affectionate kiss on his cheek sparked warmth, but Robin's focus stayed on Tara.
Meera Reddy, Priya's fiery sister, watched from the villa's shadows, her distrust of Robin blazing. "He's playing Priya," she whispered, her plan to seduce him with a hidden camera taking shape. "I'll expose him as a creep and save Di," she vowed, her loyalty to Priya driving her scheme. The camera, tucked in a corner, waited to trap Robin.