StarGaze

Feels

Raghav was lying on his bed with a tense face, wondering about something. He was surprised to hear a knock on the door. The people on Mars were not trained to knock, so that must be Pinky.

"Hi, I didn't mean to disturb you," Pinky said and looked down when Raghav opened the door.

"Oh come on, enough with the bullshit. I know you learned courtesy on Earth, but please don't do that with me." Raghav said, evidently irritated.

"You are tensed. What is it?" Pinky asked.

"Doesn't matter, you wouldn't get it. So...why are you here?" Raghav asked, sighing.

"I just...I don't know why I'm here." Pinky said with disappointment.

"I know. You need me to help you guide you through the feelings you have experienced for the first time. I know it must be scary for you. Come sit with me." Raghav said, pointing at the bed and closing the door.

Pinky sat down calmly. But as soon as they were settled, she went off.

"I don't know what is it. I feel something...some electricity when I think about those skeletons inside that mansion. I feel differently about the deities now. I feel my heartbeat become faster whenever I think of them." Pinky said, waving her hands.

"Ahh, that's the frustration you're feeling. It comes when you are having a hard time dealing with things. Also, it is a rage that you feel against the deities. It's anger, which if not managed properly, can have destructive consequences." Raghav said calmly and laid his hand on Pinky's back, comforting her.

Pinky's eyes moved rapidly and when she finally figured out a solution, she looked straight into Raghav's eyes, which made him move away a bit from startle.

"Wh...what is it?" Raghav asked, taking his hands off her back.

Pinky didn't reply, she just pounced on him. She tried to lay her lips on his, but Raghav used his palm to keep the two separated. She pushed him back on the bed and sat on top of his chest. Raghav was shocked to see this and tried to free himself, but his hands were stuck under Pinky's thighs.

"Wait, what the f**k?!" Raghav said, still in shock.

He saw the little white beads on her body glow as she stared at him with passion in her eyes. Raghav was incapacitated by the look in her eyes. He just stared at her as she tore his shirt and strafed her hands through it.

But he soon came to his senses. With one last piece of strength, he pushed her away. Pinky fell to his side and was disoriented for a second. Raghav used this opportunity to restraint her. He knew what she was trying to do, so he didn't break her neck right away.

"You weren't trying to kill me. You were...you were trying to r**e me. What the f**k?!" Raghav said.

"I had learned on Earth that whenever you are under stress or angry, s*x is the most effective way to deal with it," Pinky said innocently, instantly calming down.

"f**k! These damn Americans. All they think about all day is s*x, s*x, and sex." Raghav said and sighed.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. I felt that you were tensed too. I thought we could help each other." Pinky said.

"No, you just felt horny. That's another emotion, and it's dangerous too." Raghav said, getting off the bed and gasping for breath.

"I think your pants are swollen," Pinky said.

"That's just a boner. Don't worry, it'll go away." Raghav said and drank some water. Yeah, they processed water for him to drink.

"Okay, so maybe I could help you with your problem. I heard that talking about problems helps with the solutions." Pinky said.

"Yeah, you have SOME ears. You know what, you're right. I do need to talk about my problem. But not to you, to someone...to someone who has been through everything I have been through, but turned out on the other side of the spectrum." Raghav said as his pupils bulged with excitement.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Pinky said, understanding what Raghav was implying.

"We'll see about that. Thanks for the idea." Raghav said and closed his idea.

27 February 2023

 “Is Mister Dudley in?” the young man with curious eyes said.

“Yes. And you are?” the receptionist said. She was an old woman, around sixty years old but surprisingly active.

“My name is Thomas White. I am sent here from the New York office to work on a special assignment.” He said.

“Let me see. Thomas…oh yes, here you are. Mr. Dudley is in a meeting right now. You can sit on that bench.” The receptionist said.

“I’m sorry, but is there something more important than a reporter from the headquarters?” Thomas asked, confused.

“Believe me, you are the least important.” The receptionist smiled.

Thomas didn’t say anything else. He sat on the red bench and stared at the wooden door for about five minutes before it opened. A tall black man came out. He was wearing an expensive bright suit, matched with black shoes and a gold watch. Something on his neck caught Thomas’ attention. It was a gold chain, the biggest he had ever seen. The man was a walking ATM. He looked at Thomas for a second, took out his sunglasses, and walked out of the main door.

“Mr. Dudley will see you now.” The receptionist said, breaking his concentration.

Mr. Dudley was a bald man with wide green eyes. Without his glasses, he looked like a cartoon popped out of a television. He was smoking a cigar and burning some documents when Thomas came in with the receptionist.

“Who is this clown?” he asked.

“He is the reporter from New York.” The receptionist said.

Dudley was immediately pleased and stood up to shake hands. He offered Thomas a cigar and then looked at the old woman.

“What the f**k are you still doing here?” he said. The receptionist left immediately.

“Why do most people here dress and talk like gangsters?” Thomas asked casually.

Mr. Dudley’s face dropped. He got up and walked to stand in front of the window. He took a large drag before speaking.

“What do you know of gangsters?” he said.

“I have reported about Yakuza and the Mafia before they were destroyed, so I think it is safe to say that I know a lot about gangsters,” Thomas said proudly.

“Have you ever heard about the Chakra gang?” he asked.

“I don’t think I have,” Thomas said, taken aback.

“That’s why we chose you to interview Chandra.” Mr. Dudley said.

“Who is Chandra?” Thomas asked.

“You’ll know. You have been booked a room in the Golden Palace hotel. Meet me here tomorrow morning at 9 o’clock.” Mr. Dudley said, looking at his watch.

Thomas wanted to shoot a lot of questions but he knew by the look on Dudley’s face that he will not be getting any answers. So he left the room and took a cab for The Golden Palace.

The structure was bigger than any other he had seen before. And believe me, he saw a lot of them. No newspaper, however big, could afford this. No wonder Dudley was on the gangster’s payroll. It was a massive structure, spreading over an area of more than 70 acres and rising above a hundred feet in the air. There were seven guards in black coats at the entrance. The receptionist gave him a funny look. Maybe he was wondering how a man like Thomas could afford to stay in a heaven-like this. Anyway, he checked his book for Thomas’ name. His expressions changed from amazed to scared.

“You're Mr. Chandra’s guest?” he asked.

“I’m actually Mr. Dudley’s guest,” Thomas said coolly.

“Whatever you say, sir. Scan your fingerprints here.” He said, handing out a machine.

“What?!” Thomas said.

“This hotel takes security very seriously. Your fingerprints will be the only way to access your room.” The receptionist said.

Thomas didn’t ask any more questions. After the scanning was complete, he was escorted by a guard to his room.

“Who is Mr. Chandra?” Thomas asked the guard on the way.

The guard didn’t respond. Thomas thought that maybe he didn’t speak clearly enough. So he asked again. Again, no response.

“Oh, I see. You are not allowed to talk about him. So how long have you been working here?” Thomas asked, desperately trying to make an acquaintance in the hotel. The response was usual.

“It’s no use. You see, they cut their tongues to avoid information leaks.” Someone said.

Thomas looked back. It was a middle-aged man, with black hair and a long beard. He was closing his room door.

“That’s…pretty clean. Ruthless, to be precise.” Thomas said.

“You must be new in town. I’m Mike.” The stranger said and walked up to him.

“Yes, I’m Thomas,” Thomas said, shaking hands.

Mike looked at Thomas’ attire and smiled.

“How did you afford a hotel like this?” he asked.

“I didn’t. I’m a guest, here to interview Chandra.” Thomas said, embarrassed.

“What do you know about Chandra?” Mike asked.

“Nothing so far,” Thomas said, shrugging his shoulders.

“Come on, I’ll tell you,” Mike said and started walking.

After they reached Thomas’ room, Mike lit a cigar and Thomas went to the restroom to freshen up. He opened the tap and took out the pistol from his back. He double-checked the magazine and then tightened the suppressor before putting the pistol back in its original place.

Mike had just finished the cigar and was about to light another when Thomas came out. There were four guards in the room.

“Sit, Thomas,” Mike said.

Thomas figured it out instantly. He walked up to the sofa and looked at the guards. Wearing ultra-thin armor vest and probably carrying a desert eagle (pistol). Perfect stance indicated mixed martial arts training, probably kung fu and Krav Maga. Lethal, but vulnerable.

“Hello, Mr. Chandra,” Thomas said, confronting the man in front of him.

“Smart guy. Smartness is a must for journalists.” Mike aka Chandra said, smiling.

“So should I start with the questions?” Thomas asked.

“We’re not here for a family reunion, are we?” Chandra said.

His words struck a chord inside Thomas. His face dropped and suddenly he felt choked. Chandra noticed the change.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Nothing. Just thinking what to ask you.” Thomas said.

“Go on then. I’m all ears.” Chandra said, getting comfortable.

“How do you handle the pressure? I mean you have a reputation to maintain and it seems like a pretty difficult job, given that people are always trying to f**k over others in your line of work. But you seem surprisingly calm. How do you manage all this?” Thomas asked.

“My father killed my mother with a frying pan while I watched and then he sold me for a crate of beer. If my life ever taught me anything, it was to judge people correctly. I can see right through the skin and bone and into the soul. I crawled my way out of hell and now I have the power to control that hell. I only maintain fear in people. Reputation follows. So there’s no pressure.” Chandra said gravely. His tone was so scary that sweat broke on Thomas’ forehead.

“I see. Then it must be very easy for you to control this city.” Thomas asked, his voice almost shaking.

“Who said I control this city? I’m the manager of posh regions.” He said.

Thomas was taken aback. He had thought all along that he was talking to the leader of Chakra.

“Who controls it then?” Thomas finally asked.

“He has no name,” Chandra replied, looking at Thomas’ confused face.

“Oh come on. Now you're just being hysterical. You can’t tell me that you work for a man whose name you don’t know.” Thomas said, irritated.

“Disrespect him again and you'll be talking with a bullet in between your eyes.” Chandra hissed.

After a few moments of silence, he spoke again.

“Legend says that he was going crazy. He had no friends, people mocked him and he had no job. The only person who loved him was his girlfriend. One night, they were taking a walk in the neighborhood when a car hit them from behind. He called for help, knocked on the door of every neighbor but no one answered. As a result, his beloved bled herself to death while people stood beside them, mocking them for walking carelessly.  He didn’t cry, nor did he scream. He went inside his home and brought out his shotgun and pistols. Then he went to a tool shop nearby and bought two hammers. Everyone who knew him or his name was killed on that bloody night. Anyone who tried to stop him met the same fate. He shot them with a gun but killed them with a hammer. Old men, children, beggars; it didn’t matter to him.

The bodies dropped that night led to the rise of the Chakra gang. Chakra is a Sanskrit word for wheel. This wheel starts at him and ends at him, no other way. He sees anything and hears everything.”

He reached for his cigars. His hands were trembling and his forehead was raining sweat.

“You seem nervous talking about it,” Thomas asked.

“If you would have seen the bodies that morning, you would be too. Roads were covered with dead people. All of their heads were crushed into two dimensions. Many of them had their wrists cut off while trying to protect their heads. It was the purest form of brutality.” Chandra said weakly.

“How many people did he exactly kill?” Thomas asked curiously.

“Forty-three, including eleven policemen,” Chandra said, lighting the cigar. The smoke relieved him.

“One man?” Thomas asked, stunned by the number.

“Now you know why I work for a man with no name and whose face I only saw three times in the last four years.” Chandra frowned.

“And the police? Didn’t they do anything the next day?” Thomas inquired.

“Ah, the police. They were too scared to do anything. You see, he had killed the commissioner along with his seven guards and carved on his body that if anyone came after him, he will kill them slow, real slow. And they also didn’t have his name or ID, so they didn’t know who did it.”

“Wow, really smart,” Thomas said.

“Anything else?” he asked.

“No, I think that’s enough,” Thomas said in a daze. He just realized that this wasn’t a typical mafia-like mission; this was going to be tough, very tough.

“Then I should leave. I have a business to attend to. I can’t just sit around all day like you and waste paper.” Chandra said and stood up to leave.

“No, I need you alive,” Thomas said and pressed the button on the side of his watch to send the signal.

“What?!” Chandra asked, confused.

A flash lit up the room and four of Thomas’ agents appeared right behind the guards. Before Chandra could come out of the shock, the agents slit the guards’ throats and disappeared instantly. He reached for his gun but Thomas was in control here. Chandra pulled out his hand to shoot but only his elbow came up. He glanced at the ground to see the other half of his hand lying in a pool of blood along with the gun. Thomas shot his knees so that there was no escape for him. He opened his mouth to scream. Thomas pointed the pistol at his head.

“If one word comes out from that mouth, it will be the last,” Thomas said.

"Hello, Thomas!" Raghav said and smiled from the sofa on the corner.

"What?! What are you doing in my story?" Thomas said, letting go of the loser below his control.

"We need to talk," Raghav said, taking a sip from his drink.

"Well, it's about time," Thomas said and shot Chandra in the head.