A Race For Two

Prologue: Mayank

As the inky darkness that is usually associated with a full moon night began to settle on the city, Mayank started to get restless. It was not usually that his summons was so flippantly ignored, but lately this had been happening frequently, more than he could put up with. His last unfortunately uneventful meeting still brought shame to his face, something he wasn't so well acquainted with. He had been so sure the last time, so certain . . . only to be rebuffed. Still, some topics were better left unthought of, for fear they might arise doubt in oneself and one's motives. He did not want to overthink his actions too much, and be discouraged by his recent failures, his tendency to magnify each mistake to a ridiculous proportion always reducing his confidence. And if there was one thing that Mayank hated most in the world, it was lack of confidence.

He suddenly noticed that his leg was shaking and chided himself mentally. Even if he was restless, he loathed showing that restlessness. The setting itself was making him jumpy. He sat in a pub-or bar, or maybe it was a club (by the looks of one girl in particular who was desperately trying to hook up with someone who was far older than she was), there were flashing lights and the singing wasn't karaoke, so most probably it was a club; he didn't know much about these kind of settings, having been inside neither one-and it could rightly be said that he did not know how to behave there. The bartender gave him a once-over before serving him his requested glass of water, and he took it gratefully, looking for some way to calm his frazzled nerves. His informant had probably chosen this place as it qualified as a public setting, and although being in a public setting usually gave one a sense of security (for no one would try to do anything illegal in the fear that the surrounding observers may report something), in reality any incident that did happen would be dismissed as another bar brawl due to the inability of the observers to retain useful information in their drunken state.

The sad part was, that this place was turning out to be even more advantageous to his unknown informer, given Mayank's current restless state, in which his mind could not focus completely on one thing. He doubted he could properly judge his informant's story with half of his mind on the despicable choice of lighting and the other half on suspicious looking neighbours. He was continuously distracted by the shady looks he received from even shadier people and the shadows made him jumpy.

He just wanted this encounter to be over and done with. A cup of steaming hot coffee and soft blankets was on his mind. He kept the image in his mind as the salvation he would receive after his long and arduous journey in the club he had the misfortune to land into.

What was it that attracted people to clubs anyway?he thought.What fun did one derive from listening to insanely loud music and dancing funnily in front of strangers? He concluded by accepting the fact that he would never understand what all the hype was about.

Still, it wasn't entirely the informant's fault that he was feeling so ill at ease. How was he to know that Mayank was still a teenager? (Although if he would have known that, he'd probably have chosen the same place regardless, just saying:-) Owing to his early growth spurt, Mayank looked a good twenty-three of age at seventeen, at a height of six feet one, with well-defined muscles in a lean, angular frame, and stubble across his jaw. His attention quota from the ladies wasn't lacking, as was evident from the looks he was receiving from some of the women in the club. He smiled internally at what his mother would say: his accelerated hormonal growth was a result of the harsh training his father had put him through . . .

His father. Mayank did not want to think of him as the wound of his father's death was still fresh, still raw.The memory resurfaced all Mayank's despair, hopelessness, anguish, sorrow and anger, that he had worked so hard to suppress. He chased the fleeting thought until it was no more. Mayank believed in impassivity while on crucial missions. And this meeting was crucial to his plan's success. He could not afford to lose composure at that time.

He preoccupied himself by observing the clubbers. There was one girl that caught his attention. She was the same one he had seen earlier. She was wearing a black tank top and a silver sequined skirt reaching her knees. She had long black hair reaching her mid-back, and her clear face seemed out of place in a club full of faces caked with make-up and sweat. Somehow, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had seen her sometime before today.

She came to the bar and sat on the stool to his left and ordered something in an indecipherable voice. She seemed to be tall, just a few inches under himself. Mayank found himself staring at her trying to recall where he had seen her, and quickly averted his gaze when he realized. It was a good thing the girl was high, otherwise he would have been in trouble.

After drinking shots of some clear fluid, the girl headed towards the exit. He was in indecision of whether or not to follow her when his phone beeped. It was a text from his trusted contact who had set up his meeting with the informer. The text confirmed Mayank's suspicions about his informer's absence, and he rushed out the club, his disappointment of the informer not turning up obscured by his burning curiosity to know more about he girl.

It was a good thing that Mayank exited the club when he did, for he saw a bunch of drunken lads eve-teasing the girl. He could see the helplessness in her eyes and felt a sudden rage at the group of boys. She probably had endured these jeers before and would have ignored them, but Mayank could not. He involuntarily thought of Akari and there was no controlling his fury now as he rushed forward to teach the group a lesson.

Even in his rage, Mayank had a clear mind and instantly knew the field wasn't even. Four incapacitated drunk boys against him? They didn't stand a chance. He first approached the one who seemed to be saying, "Global warming is becoming an issue due to chicks like her!" and punched him hard in the nose. As he teetered off the garbage can he was sitting on, Mayank ducked and kicked another boy who was standing, bringing his legs under him and crashing down to the ground. Another one was brought down by an elbow in the stomach and he was about to go after the last boy when he saw from the corner of his vision the girl's knees buckling.

He let the last boy go and run off and stabilized the girl before she fell and cracked her skull on the asphalt (okay, so maybe he was exaggerating, but you have to be careful!). He held her slender waist, and she brought her arms around his neck as if they were in some sort of a cheesy movie shoot. Her eyes were filled with admiration as she looked up at him, and all he could do was stare into the soft hazel eyes that were so clear.

Wait a minute . . . clear? Wasn't this girl supposed to be totally drunk? were his last thoughts as he felt a sharp prick at the side of his neck. Their roles were suddenly reversed now; the girl supported him as he retreated into the dark depths of uninterrupted slumber.

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Author's note: Hey guys!!! So this is my first time writing and I chose to write a thriller/occasional comedy story. A lot of my inspiration has been from Bollywood so expect a few references and maybe some clichés too . . . On the top is "Bom Diggy" by Zack Knight and Jasmin Walia as the song that was playing in the club.