Nemesis

The car tore across the open ground toward the barrier, a long tan plume of dust unspooling behind it. Harshal had shoved his upper body through the sunroof, and he drummed both fists against the roof in a ragged rhythm, howling into the wind.

“Hoooowwwl! Hell yeah!”

He ducked his head and grinned down at Sahil in the seat below, his hair plastered flat on one side. “You know, I once did all this and ended up getting spanked by my mother.”

The car hit a rut and bounced, and Saanvi’s fingers dug into the dashboard, her eyes fixed on the dented metal above her. “Please don’t smash the roof,” she said.

They raced on. Ahead, the air began to shimmer, a faint, trembling ripple like heat rising off tar, and on the far side of it five figures took shape, standing in a line, guns in their hands.

Pranav Sir leaned forward, squinting through the windshield. “Hey, they have guns,” he said.

“So?” Harshal said.

All five weapons swung toward him.

The grin stayed on his face a heartbeat too long, then froze. “Oh, shit.”

Gunfire cracked across the field. Harshal threw himself into a wild, flinching dodge, twisting and ducking as though he could actually see each bullet coming. Then the shots stopped. In the ringing quiet he patted himself down, chest, arms, ribs, his hands moving faster with every pass.

“Wait. None of the bullets hit me.”

Saanvi twisted around and glared up at him. “No, idiot,” she said. “They disappeared when they hit the barrier.”

On the other side, Reva lowered her gun slowly, eyes locked on the figure standing in the sunroof. “What is that guy? He dodged every one of our bullets.”

Vikrant stood beside her, knuckles pale around his weapon. “Nobody is faster than a bullet, sister,” he said. “Especially ours.”

Harshal flung both arms into the air, laughing into the wind. “Haha! Fuck you!”

Saanvi jabbed a finger at the sunroof, her voice sharp enough to cut through the engine. “Sit down, or I will make sure you are our next meal.”

“Hell nah,” Harshal said, not even looking down.

Sahil leaned toward the roof, one hand braced against the seat in front of him. “Boss, she is right. I think you should sit down and let Dhruv and me handle them, rather than standing on the roof waiting for a bullet to pierce you.”

Harshal paused, one fist still raised. The wind tugged at his shirt. For a moment he stared at the figures ahead, then let out a long breath. “Okay, fine.”

He dropped through the sunroof and sank into his seat, the leather creaking beneath him.

Beyond the shimmering barrier, Vikrant and Reva were already moving. Doors slammed. Engines coughed to life, and the cars lurched forward in a ragged line, heading toward the barrier. One by one they crossed it.

The moment each car passed through, the guns in their hands thinned to nothing, flickering out like smoke.

Both cars rolled to a stop nose to nose, a haze of dust slowly settling into the gap between them. Dhruv and Sahil stepped out first, boots grinding into the dirt, and moved clear of their doors. On the far side, the other team climbed out one by one and spread into a loose line.

Harshal had already pushed himself back up through the sunroof, forearms resting on the roof like a man leaning on a balcony rail, laughing and shouting across the gap.

“Hey, who are you?”

Reva’s mouth curved. Aarohi snorted, small and wiry, her heels rocking in the dirt, never quite still. Tanvi, short and heavyset, didn’t bother hiding her annoyance. Yusuf, towering over the rest of them, didn’t move at all.

Vikrant didn’t so much as glance at the car. His eyes stayed on Dhruv, calm and unhurried, his empty hands loose at his sides. “Is this talkative animal yours, Mr. Leader?”

Dhruv held his gaze. “No, he has no master.”

Sahil stood beside him, shoulders square, his eyes moving slowly along the other team’s line, weighing each of them in turn.

Vikrant finally let his gaze drift over the group, then settled it back on Dhruv. “Okay, then, I will make my intentions clear. I want to capture your city.”

Dhruv didn’t flinch. “And why would we let you?”

“I am not asking.”

The words had barely left him when Vikrant exploded forward, closing the distance in a blur, his jab streaking straight at Dhruv’s face.

Dhruv’s hands snapped up and caught it. His fingers clamped around the arm, and, using it like a rope, he heaved. Vikrant’s feet left the ground, and he was hurled across the dirt.

He hit, skidded, and rolled onto his feet, dust trailing off his shoulders. A slow, interested smile crossed his face. “Huh. You’ve got some fire in you.”

They advanced on each other, the gap shrinking with every step.

On the far side of the cars, Yusuf moved without a word. His long arms closed around Sahil, and the ground fell away beneath Sahil’s boots as Yusuf hoisted him clear off it.

Sahil hung there, legs dangling, and kept his voice level. “Hey, don’t do this. Your team’s current state doesn’t look so good. I don’t think they would like a team with one less member.”

Yusuf’s grip didn’t loosen. “Let’s see who’s the one talking.”

In the center, Dhruv and Vikrant crashed together. Dhruv’s jab snapped out and rocked Vikrant’s head back. Before he could recover, Dhruv stepped in and swung a hook that landed flush on his face.

Harshal threw his head back and laughed. “Haha, I like him!”

From the other car, Himani Ma’am’s voice cut across the noise. “Saanvi, please shut him up or kill him.”

Saanvi was already leaning forward in her seat. “Gladly, Ma’am.”

She drove her fist upward, into the space between his legs.

Harshal’s laughter broke off mid-breath. His face twisted, and a strangled growl rose out of him. “Why? Aah. Oh fuck.”

He folded in half, slid down into the car, kicked the door open, and half fell out of it, one hand clamped between his legs.

In the center, Dhruv and Vikrant had gone down together in a tangle of limbs, dirt puffing up around them. Vikrant pushed himself onto one elbow and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You sure pack a punch.”

“Yeah, but not my main attribute,” Dhruv said.

He surged to his feet and drove a front kick at Vikrant’s chest. Vikrant’s hand shot out and caught it an instant before it landed.

A few steps away, Sahil lay flat on his back in the dirt where Yusuf had dropped him, staring up at the sky. Yusuf stood over him, arms hanging at his sides. “Is that all you’ve got?”

Sahil’s arms shot up and wrapped around Yusuf’s head. He twisted, cinching it tight against his body, and held.

“So, Mr.,” he said, “if you even try to move, I’ll break your neck.”

Harshal pushed himself up from the dirt beside the car, one slow movement at a time, and brushed the dust off his clothes with sharp, irritated slaps. When the worst of it was gone, he shot a glare toward the open door. “Saanvi, I will kill you myself after this.”

From inside, Saanvi’s voice came back, flat and unbothered. “Yeah, sure.”

A few paces away, Vikrant had already climbed back to his feet. He rolled his neck, brushed grit off his sleeve, and fixed his eyes on Dhruv, his tone polite and thin. “So, Mr. Leader, please ask that wild dog to shut up. He is interrupting our fight.”

Dhruv wrenched his leg free and shook his head. “Sorry, he is not a dog, and I am not the leader.”

Footsteps crunched in the dirt behind Vikrant, slow and unhurried. Harshal was walking toward them across the open ground, hands loose at his sides, a lazy grin on his face.

“Sorry for the inconvenience, but I am the leader, Mr. ... sorry, I am not good with names.”

Vikrant frowned and turned. “What?”

Harshal didn’t answer him. His eyes slid past, to the spot where Sahil lay in the dirt with Yusuf’s head locked in his arms.

“Hey, Sahil, you got him, right?”

Sahil didn’t loosen his grip or look away from the sky. “Yeah, as much as you need me to.”

Harshal’s grin widened. Then he was gone from where he stood.

He crossed the last stretch in a blink, the dirt bursting where his foot had pushed off. Vikrant reacted on instinct, his leg snapping up in a hard, whipping kick aimed at Harshal’s head.

Harshal caught it. His hand closed around Vikrant’s ankle in midair, and the force of the kick died in his grip.

Vikrant’s eyes widened.

Harshal twisted. Vikrant’s body spun off the ground, and for one heartbeat he hung there, helpless, his hair fanning out. Then Harshal threw him.

He hit the car with a crash that shook the frame, and the glass in the windows chattered. Vikrant slid down the door, coughed once, and dragged himself back up onto his feet, one hand pressed against the metal for balance.

He never got his head fully up.

Harshal’s fist slammed into the car an inch from his ear. The door folded inward around the blow with a shriek of tearing metal, and the whole side of the car shuddered.

Harshal didn’t look at Vikrant. He turned his head slowly, and the grin was gone. His face was dead serious, his eyes locked on Reva, who stood a few steps away.

Something in Vikrant snapped. He tore himself off the car with a snarl and charged, his fist already cocked. “Don’t you dare look at my sister.”

The punch flew at Harshal’s face. It stopped an inch short, caught flat in Harshal’s palm, and the impact barely moved him. His fingers closed around Vikrant’s fist and held it there.

“Don’t worry,” he said, “I am not a pervert.”

Harshal drew back his free arm and drove his fist into Vikrant’s face.

Vikrant dropped like a cut string. His head struck the ground, and the earth beneath it split, cracks racing outward in a spray of dust and loose stone.

Harshal straightened, shaking out his hand, and looked down at the crater.

Reva moved before he could take a step. She slid between him and her fallen brother, and her kick drove straight into Harshal’s ribs, hard enough to send him skidding backward across the dirt. She planted her feet over Vikrant, her half-amused look gone.

“Don’t you dare touch my brother.”