The warehouse's dust swirled lazily in the shafts of light piercing the cracked windows, the pistol lying discarded like a discarded threat. Basu Bhai stood before Ishaan, his gold-laden hands open in submission, the driver's massive form slumped against the dented Fortuner, groaning faintly. Ishaan crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. "What will I do with your loyalty?" he asked, voice level, testing the man's resolve.
Basu Bhai met his gaze without flinching, his bald head gleaming. "Whatever you say, boss. You want me to run a shop? I'll stock it. You want a rival gone? Consider it done."
Ishaan shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I don't plan to be a don. Live your own life—let me live mine."
"No can do," Basu Bhai replied, his rugged voice firm, stepping closer with hands raised in oath. "I'm your man now. Even if you ask me to be a don, I'll be the biggest one Mumbai's seen. Ask me to kill somebody? I'll do it clean. Anything—name it, and it's yours."
Ishaan studied him, the weight of the offer sinking in. "Do you know about the Ahujas? My uncles, my mother's family."
Basu Bhai nodded, a sly glint in his eye. "Know 'em? After you beat my boys senseless, I dug deep. Studied your history—adopted kid, dead father, uncles who treated you like dirt. Hell, I even paid a visit to the fool who hired me. Beat the truth out of him—got his name, his background. Vickey Malhotra, right? He's got nothing on you."
Ishaan's eyes sharpened. "If you really want to help, my uncles—Aarush, Divit, Zavian—took my mother's business. Sabotaged it, loaned poison money, now it's theirs. I want it back."
Basu Bhai's laugh boomed, echoing off the rusted walls. "Easy. Say the word—I'll have their books cooked, their suppliers scared off, their lawyers buried in red tape. It'll be yours again before the monsoons hit."
Ishaan nodded, considering. "And the one who paid for the hit? Vickey?"
"Have you beaten him already?" Basu Bhai grinned wickedly."Yes" I did, he replied. "Don't tell him you'r my man now—let it simmer. Next time he wants me roughed up, charge him 50 lakhs. Make him bleed for it."
"Deal," Ishaan said, extending a hand. Basu clasped it firmly, sealing the pact.
Basu Bhai turned to his driver, who staggered to his feet. "We're out. Boss." He nodded to Ishaan, then lumbered to the Fortuner, the vehicle roaring to life and vanishing in a cloud of dust.
Ishaan mounted his Royal Enfield, the engine's growl a counterpoint to his steady pulse, and rode toward Ravi's flat. The city blurred past, plans solidifying—family first, then the uncles' downfall.
At Ravi's door, a knock brought the whiz out, monitors glowing behind him. "You're here! Views are exploding—two reels over 2 million, sitting second and third on trending!"
Ishaan stepped inside. "Good. Show me."
Ravi pulled up the channel, "Modern Ninja" banners flashing. "And check this—the top video? Didn't recognize at first, but now..." He clicked play: grainy footage of Ishaan at the gate, 12 men groaning on the ground, him holding the leader by the collar, slapping answers out. Blurry face, but the build, the moves—unmistakable. "That's you! What the hell happened?"
Ishaan sank into the chair, recounting the ambush, the beatdown, the call to Basu Bhai—everything. "Ended with him swearing loyalty. Said I've got the underworld now."
Ravi's eyes bugged out. "Basu Bhai? The Basu Bhai? He's a legend—runs half the city's shadows, from protection rackets to hits. Having him means the whole Mumbai underworld under you, bro! You're untouchable!"
Ishaan leaned back, the weight of alliances settling. "Let's hope so. We've got work to do."
Ravi paced the cluttered flat, his monitors flickering with "Modern Ninja" metrics, eyes wide as Ishaan finished recounting the warehouse standoff. "Basu Bhai, man... you don't get it," Ravi said, sinking into his chair. "He's not just some thug—he's the kingpin. Runs protection rackets from Dadar to Bandra, calls shots on everything from smuggling to hits. Cops look the other way, rivals disappear. Having him? You've got the whole Mumbai underworld in your pocket. One word from you, and doors open—or slam shut."
Ishaan nodded, absorbing it. "Good to know. What else?"
Ravi hesitated, rubbing his neck. "Now that you've got him... there's this one tiny problem I've got that could use his help." He sighed. "Local gangster—took a loan for my setup years back. Paid the principal, but he keeps piling on 'interest.' Two years now—every time I pay, he says 'last time,' then shows up demanding more. Extortion in a suit. If you could get Basu to call him... that'd be everything."
Ishaan pulled out his phone. "What's his name?"
"Raju Kaka—slimy bastard, runs a pawn shop in Andheri."
Ishaan dialed Basu Bhai, the line connecting on the second ring. "Boss," Basu's gravelly voice answered. "Miss me already?"
"Got a favor," Ishaan said straight. "Raju Kaka in Andheri—gangster shaking down a friend for endless interest on a paid loan. Handle it."
"No problem," Basu chuckled. "Consider it done."
The call ended. Five minutes ticked by in tense silence, Ravi fidgeting. Then Ravi's phone buzzed—unknown number. He answered, wary. "Hello?"
"Ravi? Raju Kaka here," the voice slimed through, suddenly servile. "Listen, beta, should've told me you know Basu Bhai. My mistake—big one. All debt cleared, no more interest, nothing. We're square. Really sorry—won't happen again."
Ravi's jaw dropped. "Y-you're... clearing it? Just like that?"
"Yes, yes! Basu Bhai called—said you're under his wing. Apologies, beta. Stay safe." The line clicked dead.
Ravi stared at the phone, then at Ishaan. "Holy... he did it. In five minutes! Thank you, bro—you're a lifesaver."
Ishaan shrugged. "Small stuff. Channel update?"
Ravi's grin returned, pulling up the dashboard. "Exploding! Two reels over 2 million views—second and third trending. Comments are fire—people loving the moves, the mask. Tons asking to see your face, but I'm replying from the channel: 'Only at 50 lakh subscribers.' And get this—we're at 3.5 lakh already! With these views, 2-3 lakhs earnings per week easy if it keeps climbing. Ads, sponsorships incoming."
"Strike while the iron's hot," Ishaan said. "Shoot more reels tomorrow."
"Deal!" Ravi fist-bumped him. "Right now?"
"No time left—I've got to pick up Ari." Ishaan stood, grabbing his helmet. "See you tomorrow."
"Go get her, Ninja!" Ravi called as Ishaan stepped out, the door clicking shut behind him.