---
Mahakaleshwar Temple – 3:07 PM
A solemn chant echoes through the temple's grand corridors. Bells toll. Incense curls through the air like lazy ghosts. Devotees shuffle by, whispering prayers.
But one man among them isn't here to whisper.
Nanu.
A.k.a. Shekhar.
He doesn't walk—he glides in silent precision, holding a brass puja thali. Inside it? A suspiciously mango-shaped object wrapped in sandalwood paste and turmeric like it just came from some demonic fruit salad.
Nanu stops before the idol of Mahakaleshwar, bows deeply, and mutters:
> "Bless me, O destroyer of evil. Also, if the mango explodes, please don't take it personally."
He sprinkles holy water on himself, the mango, and the guard next to him, who sneezes and falls unconscious because the water was 8% acid.
---
Temple Rear Quarters – 3:19 PM
A pair of heavily-armed guards stand outside a marble archway engraved with hieroglyphics and Sanskrit verses. One of them eyes Nanu suspiciously.
> Guard: "Identification?"
Nanu (deadpan): "My beard is longer than yours."
Guard (nods respectfully): "Right this way, sir."
Inside, the air hums with static energy. Glowing runes float mid-air.
A long table is surrounded by figures out of an unholy mashup of Indiana Jones, Naruto, and The Mummy Returns.
---
THE INNER CHAMBER
At the head of the room stands the Guru — tall, radiant, and built like a spiritual Dumbledore who bench-presses truths. Beside him are the Egyptian Priests of Amun Siyan, wearing black robes stitched with golden beetle patterns, and a handful of Yamabushi monks, their staff-blades glowing faintly with chi.
> Guru (stern): "You're late, Shekhar."
Nanu (grinning, brushing lint off his shoulder): "Wasn't sure if I was being followed. Had to swap my trail with a decoy mango cart."
Egyptian Priest: "Did you bring it?"
Nanu (pulls out mango-shaped metallic orb): "Freshly plucked from chaos."
The room goes still.
The object is small, smooth, and sinister, engraved with both Sanskrit mantras and Phoenician symbols. It pulses slightly. The mango is alive.
> Yamabushi Monk: "That's not a mango."
Nanu: "Tell that to the fruit vendor I swindled it from."
---
FLASHBACK — 2 hours ago:
Nanu drops a real mango in a boy's basket, swaps the containment orb into another basket, then sprints through Ujjain streets being chased by three cultists in "Om Namah Shivaya" hoodies and one rogue cow.
---
Back in the chamber, the Guru nods.
A priest approaches with the Void Sutra—a scroll so ancient it's held together by hopes and expired glue sticks. He begins a ritual chant.
Suddenly—
BOOM!
The door explodes.
---
ENTER: THE OBORO SYNDICATE.
Ten jet-black armored ninjas rappel down from the ceiling like demonic piñatas. Their swords? Curved obsidian.
Their leader?
Kuroshin.
He doesn't walk. He glides like he's auditioning for a shampoo ad in hell. His voice is a whisper that sounds like dying crows.
> Kuroshin: "The core is not yours to protect… Shekhar."
Nanu (sighs): "Why is it always a Thursday?"
---
THE BATTLE BEGINS.
It's chaos.
A Yamabushi monk flips over the table, deflecting a shuriken using a folded fan and raw wisdom.
An Egyptian priest pulls out a relic staff and yells "Ra's buttocks!" as it shoots lightning.
The Void Sutra is tossed like a rugby ball through the air while monks scream in six languages.
Nanu dodges a katana swipe, rolls and now the FINAL SHOWDOWN
Kuroshin vs Nanu.
Their weapons clash, sword against prayer beads that whip like razors.
Kuroshin tries to channel dark energy—
But the Obsidian Core fragment in Nanu's mango-orb starts to glow.
Time slows. The air fractures.
Voices echo. The chant of the Void Sutra begins activating the core.
Kuroshin:
> "You can't handle its power."
Nanu:
> "I can't even handle dairy, but here we are."
The orb glows blinding white. It blasts Kuroshin across the room. His shadow burns onto the wall like a haunted sticker.
The Oboro ninjas scatter.
---
AFTERMATH:
The Guru stares at Nanu, stunned.
> Guru: "You've unleashed it."
Nanu: "Well, yeah. But I also sealed it back using… duct tape and inner peace."
He pockets the orb.
"Besides, my bus back to the hotel leaves in 12 minutes."
As he exits, outside the temple gates, a group of men in suits stand.
> Agent #1: "We've been looking for you, Mr. Shekhar."
Nanu (smiles): "Sorry, I'm booked. Try the mango vendor."
---
---
LOCATION: Ujjain Alleyway, behind a majestic peacock statue that may or may not be watching.
TIME: 3:42 PM
Ten grown men—grown, yes, but now spiritually reduced to kindergarteners—are face-first in the dirt. One's screaming in Morse code. Another is trying to pay a pigeon hush money.
Enter: EDWARD.
Glasses: cracked like his dating history.
Shirt: half gone, other half threatening to sue.
Aura: Sith monk on a cheat day.
Weapon: A mace made of a selfie stick, a coconut, and divine mockery. It hums. Not from power. From sheer embarrassment.
He's calm.
He's deadly.
He's humming the "Dora the Explorer" theme song.
Then he snaps his fingers.
The leader of the fake tourist squad groans.
Edward casually struts over. He kneels.
> Edward (whispering):
"I know you're faking. Your eyelid twitched. And you peed a little. In Morse."
> Spy Leader (gibbering):
"I—I'm a food blogger! Vegan! Gluten-free!"
> Edward (smiling like Satan on a Tinder date):
"Then let's make a healthy smoothie of justice—"
BUT—
Suddenly—his earpiece buzzes.
Static. Then the calmest voice you'd never want to hear in your basement.
> Nanu:
"Mango got the basket. Handle the troops."
Edward pauses.
Spy sighs in relief—
—AND GETS SLAPPED WITH THE COCONUT.
> Edward:
"Sorry. Coconut slipped. Like your cover identity, Rakesh."
He dusts himself off and glares at the rest of the twitching bodies.
> "By the way—your safehouse was just raided by a blindfolded monkey we trained in Krav Maga. Good luck explaining that."
He walks off. Behind him? A scene that looks like a rejected episode of Nat Geo: Spy Edition. Groaning men. A chicken pecking at secrets. One guy whispering, "Tell my wife... I was actually in Goa."
---
CUT TO: GWALIOR FORT — 3:33 PM
INSIDE A MOVING SURVEILLANCE VAN that's been disguised as an ice cream truck named "Lick 'n' Leak."
Inside: ELOISE.
She's hacking into a politician's dreams using a setup made from:
a VR headset
a blender
a haunted baguette
and 3 tabs of French regret
Meanwhile, in the corner:
A tied-up guard is being fed motivational quotes by a voice assistant named Karl.
A raccoon named Biscuit is chewing on Ethernet cables and rewriting national policy.
> Eloise (casually):
"If this guy thinks he can sell uranium to clowns and get away with it, he's never met my lawyer. Or my flamethrower."
Suddenly—her radio flares up.
> Nanu (calm as inner death):
"Mango got the basket."
She freezes. Biscuit stops chewing. Even the blender trembles.
> Eloise (grinning):
"That's our exit cue. Also our code for: 'Light it the hell up.'"
She smacks a big red button.
BOOM.
The van explodes in the background like a Bollywood film with budget trauma. Ice cream rains down. Sprinkles fly like bullets.
She struts away in slow motion, sipping masala chai from a teacup made of titanium, while adjusting her lipstick using the reflective surface of a fallen drone wing.
> Eloise (to Biscuit):
"War crimes resume tomorrow. Tonight? We watch Shark Tank and judge them all."
Biscuit nods solemnly and detonates a balloon for no reason.
---
---
TO BE CONTINUED...