Aarav's mind already schemed three steps ahead. The night closed around them like a pact — unspoken, efficient, inevitable.
The Formation of Nullvein
The abandoned building was silent except for the faint hiss of the old gas burner. The four of them — Aarav, Vihaan, Rishi, and Ishaan — sat around the makeshift table. The dinner had ended, but the air still buzzed with the remnants of adrenaline and laughter.
Vihaan leaned back on a crate, bruised knuckles flexing. "So… do we even have a name yet? I can't keep calling us 'the scary four' forever."
Rishi smirked, dry and calm. "We're already dangerous enough. Name won't matter."
Ishaan's gaze flicked to Aarav, quiet but piercing, his presence like a blade resting lightly on the table. "Names matter," he said finally, in that low, deliberate tone. "It's what you leave behind — a trace of existence. Or a warning."
Aarav's fingers drummed against the table, calculating. "True. Names hold weight. They carry identity, purpose, and perception. Something subtle, unseen by most, but lethal in meaning. Like us."
He leaned forward, eyes meeting theirs one by one. "We need a name that's not obvious. People shouldn't understand it. But beneath it… it should define who we are, and what we can do. Invisible influence. Surgical impact. Calculated power."
Vihaan grinned, teeth flashing. "That sounds… intense. I like it."
Ishaan tilted his head, expression neutral, but a faint trace of interest crept in. "So, what are you thinking?"
Aarav's voice dropped to that calm, deliberate tone that made even Vihaan's grin tighten in focus. "We are… Nullvein. A vein of nothing, flowing silently through the system. We strike where it hurts, unseen. Our presence alone can change outcomes. The name will mean nothing to most, but it will echo wherever it's meant to."
Silence fell. The weight of the name settled in like a pact. Four men, bruised and bloodied, forming a new entity — calculated, untouchable, invisible to the casual observer, but lethal when necessary.
Vihaan let out a low whistle, then laughed. "Nullvein… I can see it. That's us. Feels… heavy. Good heavy."
Rishi nodded, calm as ever. "It suits the methodology. Surgical, restrained, lethal."
Ishaan's eyes flicked to the window, watching the distant college lights. He didn't smile, but the faintest shadow of approval passed through him. "Fine. Nullvein."
Aarav leaned back, finally allowing a slight smile to touch his lips — not warmth, not friendliness, but the satisfaction of the equation balancing in his favor. "Then it's settled. Nullvein exists."
The night outside deepened. The city's distant noise seemed muted, as if even the world acknowledged the birth of something precise, lethal, and inevitable.
> Four men. One purpose. Endless possibilities.