"Master Ronak has struck me down. My ribs… my beautiful ribs!"

  The whole orphanage burst out in laughter. Even the ones sulking could not help but have a smile on their faces.

  For a moment, all the problems in the walls, even for the teachers and staff, vanished in thin air like they never existed.

  The heart of the orphanage was Jay Khanna, who never failed to amaze everyone with the witty tricks up his sleeves.

  Still sprawled on the floor, his eyes shifted to another child standing next to the warden's office, waiting for acceptance.

  Jay shot up in an instant, dusting his clothes dramatically.

  "Sheriff Ronak, Constable Anaya!" He slammed his hand on Ronak's shoulder, as if he led an army, "let's set out to meet the boy with annoyingly good looks!"

  "I should have been the Sheriff!" Anaya dashed after Jay, squealing and joining the boys.

  Jay marched forward like a brave soldier of the orphanage.

  Ronak tugged behind him and Anaya was still arguing for her post.

  They finally reached the boy, who stood still but anxious with his foot constantly tapping on the ground.

  "Hey, state your identity before the Sheriff!"

  Jay pulled the boy from his shoulder.

  "And the constable too!"

  Anaya jumped like she discovered something.

  The boy, half-confused and half-amused, responded in a slow voice, "Farhan…"

  Jay gasped, as if he was told a national secret.

  "Farhan, a royal name! But why does the royalty have to stand in front of the gates of justice?"

  Farhan tightened his grip on the bag he had, and looked forward to the warden's office.

  "I want permission to go outside."

  Ronak's face twisted into something suspicious.

  "I don't think there is a chance… I'm sorry."

  But Jay? His grin only widened.

  He leaned towards Ronak, giggling already.

  "You know what this means, Sheriff?"

  "You're going to drag us into another trouble, isn't it?" Ronak groaned, like he was an adult.

  Jay's eyes were sparkling with the reckless spark of childhood… and freedom.

  He stared at Ronak with hope, pleading for an answer.

  Ronak tried, but couldn't help laughing.

  After all, even he was a reckless child.

  "It means… our first adventure to set out!"

  Jay was ready to make that night of 2019 something unforgettable.

  ——————————————

  Jay sat crouched on the floor, the present being a nightmare for him.

  He murmured incoherently, hands trembling and eyes wide with fear.

  Every corner felt like a threat, every shadow alive with danger.

  Ronak knelt beside him with his arm on Jay's shoulder, calm and steady.

  "Jay, it's all good. Nothing is wrong. You know I'm there, right?"

  He turned around to the group, his eyes fueled with determination and responsibility.

  "Guys, he's coming with us. We need him."

  But Jay shook his head violently in denial.

  "I can't… I'm a burden."

  Anaya crossed her arms and stepped forward. Her expressions were frustrated as always.

  "Then don't join. You'll just slow us down."

  But Yug took charge, cutting Anaya's words with quiet authority.

  "You're wrong. The one-inch punch he landed? It wasn't weak, but phenomenal."

  Ronak gave a small, encouraging smile.

  "See? You're not a burden. You'll be of great help, like you always were."

  "I… I don't want… to fight."

  Jay lowered his gaze, fear and regret weighing him down.

  "I know it's scary, but you're not useless. You're a part of this and we can't do this without you."

  Yug crouched slowly, looking at Jay in the eyes.

  "We will not force you," he pressed Jay's shoulder gently with a warm smile, "but when the time comes, Ronak will need you."

  Slowly, Jay's breath steadied, murmurs fading. The fear was still there, but there was resolve too… for Ronak.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  ——————————————

  Kritika's legs burned as she took uneven steps.

  Her chest heaved, teary eyes blurring her vision.

  "Tarun, please be fine."

  She didn't know where the Ferris Wheel was. Her eyes darted from one corner to another, desperate for any signs.

  Her determination burned brighter than any neon light, and no matter the exhaustion, she couldn't afford to stop. Until—

  Her eyes caught a bright light among the faint ones— it was under the roller coaster.

  Kritika skidded to a sharp stop, her eyes narrowed in confusion.

  Something didn't feel right. The light flickered like a warning, pulling her closer to it.

  She was torn between the awaiting wheel and the mystery under the roller coaster.

  Then, with a deep breath and a resolve, she stepped towards the light.

  As she did so, each heartbeat thundered faster than the last with every step.

  Fear had gripped her, the same way it did to Ronak and Jay years ago.

  ——————————————

  The night of the sneak-out, the orphanage loomed behind the boys, dark and still.

  The windows reflected the pale moonlight, stretching across the dark courtyard.

  Jay and Ronak crept through every corner, careful to avoid the flashlight of the guards. Every creak of metal and rustle of leaves made Jay chuckle nervously.

  The moment they slipped past the gate, freedom began to taste sweet.

  "We're free!" Jay spun around with wide arms, like he embraced the night.

  Ronak smirked beside him, but each step he took was cautious and careful.

  "Quiet… we don't want anyone noticing."

  Jay snorted, cutting him off.

  They ran across the pavement, pretending that the world outside entirely belonged to them.

  Each step was a thrill, and each corner became a sign of mischief.

  The streets smelled of fried and fresh snacks.

  "Head to the sweets shop!" Jay shouted, sprinting across the cobblestone, until he reached a vending machine.

  "What do you want Sheriff?!"

  "Uh… do we have money—" Ronak's head tilted in innocent confusion.

  "Fine! I'll get your favourite one."

  Jay slid out a coin he snuck from the orphanage kitchen two days ago.

  "You're impossible, buddy."

  Ronak muttered, facepalming.

  Jay tossed a chocolate bar and started to run again. Ronak tried to catch up, slowly enjoying the night.

  He peeked through the windows of shops— candies, toys, colours gleaming in the light.

  Next, they discovered a fruit stall, the vendor in deep sleep. The boys walked stealthily, and Ronak controlled his laugh.

  They grabbed an apple and everything seemed fine, until Jay shouted.

  "Here comes the master of stealth!"

  The vendor, half asleep, grumbled loudly.

  "Oi! Get out of here, little nuisances!"

  Jay spun instantly, bumping into Ronak and the boys began to run, like a demon chasing them.

  The adventures didn't stop, but increased with time. They mimicked sword fights with abandoned broomsticks, and tripped over piles of empty crates.

  Each move they made came with chaos and unbelievable enthusiasm.

  All of it seemed like a night they dreamed of.

  But all of a sudden—

  Jay's eyes widened with fear, his feet refusing to take even one step forward.

  Cold metal pressed against Ronak's neck— a sharp knife glinting.

  Two local thugs had cornered them, their eyes bored but full of quiet menace.

  The boys stopped mid-laugh, every nerve snapping taut. The air felt heavy, like a burden on them.

  "Thought you kids were fun… but no money, no brains. Just a waste."

  One of the thieves spoke, then both of them burst into a devilish laughter.

  Before Ronak could react, the thief shoved him on the shutter of a closed shop.

  Wind was knocked out of him, his back flaring with pain. He collapsed on the floor, unable to move forward.

  But Jay looked different— the reckless boy suddenly vanished in thin air.

  All that remained was fire. Whoever messed with Ronak, made Jay his enemy.

  Every instinct, every thought, and every ounce of his existence screamed to protect Ronak.

  "No… not him." He whispered with anger.

  His fists clenched, eyes blazing with fury.

  His brain flashed with all the Bruce Lee moves he watched on television.

  The streets were previously their playground, but now he was ready to not let Ronak get hurt.

  ——————————————

  The echoes of danger still lingered in a different place, in the present.

  Tarun's knees pressed on the gritty ground— dirt, blood and sweat blending together.

  His body was betraying him, piece by piece.

  Every muscle screeched with exhaust, his calf and upper abdomen bleeding through the shirt.

  Yet, his eyes carried an unyielding resolve.

  He lifted his gaze towards the horizon, where he thought Kritika went towards.

  He prayed silently, desperation residing in it.

  "Please… keep her safe."

  Two attackers, one big and another small, held the hammers like weapons of massacre.

  They began to step forward, slowly gaining speed to charge onto Tarun.

  "I can't fall. Just for once," Tarun rolled up his right sleeve, forcing his body to rise, "Get up, Tarun Singh!"

  Just when the three were about to collide, something else did—

  SLAM!

  A heavy guitar crashed into one of the attacker's skulls, wood splintering like thunder.

  Tarun's eyes caught it, shocked yet relieved.

  The first attacker spun like a ragdoll upon impact. The second, froze with wide eyes.

  Farhan Qureshi stepped in from the shadows, his muscles tensed and hands outstretched.

  "I've got you," he said, composed and observant, letting Tarun catch his breath, "Farhan. Farhan Qureshi. And you?"

  "Tarun Singh," He got up, holding Farhan's hand as a support. But, he didn't have time to spare.

  As they turned, ready to strike, the attackers were gone— vanished into the night like smoke.

  Tarun exhaled, "I don't know you, but you—"

  "I'm not a threat, mate." Farhan dropped his tattered guitar on the ground.

  "Ferris Wheel," Tarun said, his voice urgent but low, "I'll explain everything on the way."

  ——————————————

  On the other side of the carnival, five shadows cut through the dim neon lights— Ronak, Jay, Anaya, Yug and Rishabh— all moving fast towards the rendezvous point.

  "So that's how it was all planned." Ronak concluded the explanation, just before the others lost their patience.

  Jay's legs dragged like anchors, his breath slow and frantic. He couldn't stop but murmur like the world was caving in.

  "Jay, this is way bigger. We need to stay close."

  Ronak slowed his steps, accompanying Jay.

  Yug cut in, calm with brutal honesty.

  "Don't sugarcoat it. We will surely have to fight, sooner or later."

  Those words were enough. Jay stopped like a living corpse.

  "No… I can't… I'll mess everything up—"

  Ronak doubled back, grabbing Jay's shoulder.

  "Jay, look at me. You don't have to think any further. I'm here with you."

  But Jay staggered backwards, pulling away from Ronak's grasp.

  His voice began to crack, out of hidden guilt.

  Anaya groaned with frustration, walking forward with fierce steps, "That's it, deadweight. We're wasting our time with him!"

  Her hand swung across, snapping on Jay's cheeks. The sound echoed. Jay stopped.

  But then— for the first time— Ronak lost his temper. He turned towards Anaya, fury surging.

  He walked briskly with rage— his hands grabbing on Anaya's vest as he slammed her on the nearby wall.

  His voice tore through the air, louder than he would ever speak.

  He lunged forward, closing the distance between their faces until his face was inches away from hers.

  "Do you even have an idea what he's going through?! You don't know what he has—"

  Jay's trembling hand caught his sleeve,

  "Ronak… please stop."

  The anger in Ronak instantly shattered. His grip on Anaya's vest loosened, his breath jagged.

  The group stood in stunned silence.

  Jay held the scar on the top of his eye, pressing it with fear etched across it.

  ——————————————

  Even in 2019, Jay pressed on the scar, warm and fresh blood trickling down his face.

  The first thug was already retreating, stumbling backwards into the shadows.

  The second thug brandished the knife, a mix of red on the metal from the scar he just gave to Jay.

  His chest heaved, cursing under his breath.

  Jay's small body grew stiff, muscles remembering every strike, every move he saw Bruce Lee doing on the television.

  His fists darted, legs shifted and the body replicated the moves he only saw on the screen.

  The thug stumbled, barely keeping up with the balance. Jay was a blur, his heart racing fast.

  And then, it happened—

  The thug's foot stumbled, caught on a sharp stone hidden in the alley. Time suddenly slowed, each second stretching painfully slow.

  The man fell, hitting the stone with a sickening crack. Silence screamed around as life drained out of the thug's body.

  Blood splattered on Jay's face, who stood frozen, his eyes looking with horror.

  Ronak instantly reached out, grabbing Jay's and turning him around.

  "Jay… it's nothing. Look away. Don't—"

  But Jay couldn't. His fists were unclenched.

  He recalled every strike, believing that he was the reason for all of this.

  The streets, once a playground of mischief, felt like a cage of guilt and terror.

  Jay didn't utter a single word, nor did he blink as Ronak guided him back to the orphanage.

  The memory refused to leave even Ronak's mind, traumatising both the boys for life.

  Ronak, who was haunted in his dreams, refused to sleep for weeks. But Jay was even worse.

  Back inside, Jay scrubbed blood from his face, rapidly wiping the new fresh like he wanted it to vanish forever.

  No one ever got to know about it, but—

  The boy who once laughed, played through the orphanage had been scarred forever.

  He stopped fighting, watching television and involving himself in games— but most of all he made invisible walls of distance with everyone, higher than the walls of the orphanage.

  ——————————————

  Kritika's breaths came into shallow bursts, her legs trembling with exhaustion in the current moment.

  Her world narrowed to the single beam of illumination.

  As she approached the roller coaster, all of it became more evident.

  The glow revealed the main source of control— the place where it all began.

  There were laptops from where the power supply was cut. Infrared cameras detected every movement in the carnival.

  All the pieces of the puzzle led to this— and Kritika deciphered it in no time.

  Her fingers trembled with urgency on the reverse button, ready to fix it with a single click.

  "Hey…"

  A delicate voice broke the silence. It was soft, but coated with pain.

  Kritika turned around and saw it. There, just a few steps behind her, stood Tara D'Souza.

  She was bruised, wrist red and sore, and her face drawn with fatigue.

  "I…I need your help," Tara pleaded, wincing slightly as she reached out.

  Kritika's heart began to beat faster and louder.

  With the hesitation making room in her mind, she extended her arm.

  A silence was passed, bridged with fear and determination.