Before Friday, the 13th arrives; a full week of tension  takes place. In a country overlooked by the universe, there is a  city meaningless for the world in which a gray street stretches  towards a dead end into a 11-floor building. Its name, motivation  and employees could be as miserable or as extraordinary as  human kind could imagine them to be. But no one is safe from  the lethargic torture of an office job. There exists the nine to six  terror of stillness and monotony augmented by mindless  company and heavy hierarchy hanging from everybody's backs. In such an environment, the minds that aren't dulled and slowed  down by the tedious lifestyle might have a bit too much spare  time, a bit too much freedom to constrict and expand, morph and  transform into something it wasn't before

The wind blew peacefully. The sky was clear, and from the  trees fell leaves of different shapes, sizes and colours. It was a  wonderful day to take a walk. And that was precisely what Sushila  was doing. A beautiful woman, dressed in expensive clothes,  crossed the park from end to end with slow, leisure steps. Her  long, straight hair had a strand covering her slim face, which she  didn't bother to move aside. She seemed to be meditating,  observing her surroundings like she never had before.

On a small street in the suburbs of Shyamavali, there was  a coffee shop. It was not too fancy, and not too big either, but it  was very popular among the people in the area, so it used to be  very crowded. At this moment, however, it was too early for the  customers to start arriving in hordes. The sun was just rising and  the shopkeeper was making sure everything was in order before  opening.

"Another great day of work." Karn gave a high-five to his teammates as they arrived at the headquarters. Brilliant job, team! Keep up the good work!" Their superior said, satisfied. They had successfully completed another mission of the long list of achievements since their squad was assembled. They were an elite group, selected one by one to work on particularly complex cases where it was too risky to send average police officers. 

 Being a member of the police had always been Karn's passion, and he had been on the police force for around fifteen years. 

It was a cloudy day. Through the streets of Shyamavali, a  man paced in deep thought. “What should I do...?” he wondered.  It was already past lunchtime, and he had to return to the office.  The man considered all his options carefully. He wanted to devise  his plan before going back. “I know! I'll pull a trick on him,” he  told himself, sneering. “That way he'll learn not to stick his nose  where it doesn't belong.” The man -Chakri- sped up his pace,  chuckling silently on the way.

Chakri was an employee of a large company whose  newest office was conveniently located near his flat in one of the  districts of Shyamavali. The department he worked in was full of  young men with little work experience, but a lot of energy and  motivation.

The fire engulfed everything in sight. Her surroundings  were a mass of flames, debris, and chaos. The heat was  unbearable and she could feel her skin burning without being in  contact with anything, just by standing there. She made an  attempt to go deeper into that horrible place, but a force pulled  her back. It was stronger than her; she couldn't fight against it.  Desperate, she stretched an open hand to the front and screamed  the name that echoed in the darkness closing in on her. 

 “Mayur...”

An elderly man walked into the police station with  an anguished look on his face. He looked around, as if he  didn't know who to talk to. A police officer approached him.  “May I help you?” The man let out a sigh of relief. “Yes, sir,  it is my grandson. He arrived home after school today, and I  found this in his bag.” The old man took out of his pocket a  small package and handed it to the police officer. It  contained a small amount of drugs. 

“Do you know where he obtained this?” the officer  asked. “When I asked him, he said he had gotten it from a  man near the black market alley. I scolded him and told him  not to accept anything else from strangers

The excited screams of the crowd were deafening.  The multitude was crazed as if they had just won the big  prize in the lottery, and all the people were cheering and  chanting the name of one person. “Abhijeet! Abhijeet!  Abhijeet!” In the middle of the throng, there was a single  man dressed in a white dhoti, sheepishly smiling at  everyone around him. His fine features made him look even  younger than he already was -only 29- with smooth light  brown skin, refined face, and long eyelashes that gave him  a charming stare. 

“Oh, thank you very much. You are far too kind,”  Abhijeet said to a woman who offered him a figurine as he  walked amidst the people. “You are our saviour,” she  replied. The looks of awe and respect for this man came  from all directions. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of men,  women and children followed him as he went across one of  the slum districts surrounding the city of Shyamavali.

“This is not my briefcase.” 

These words were all the man could say. In the  dining area of a small, dusty kitchen, a brown briefcase sat  wide open on top of a ragged table. There, surrounded by  teacups and pottery, stood an old man in humble garments,  pale as a Gandhi cap, staring at the table with a puzzled  almost horrified expression on his face. The bespectacled  man found himself unable to do anything but state the  obvious upon discovering that this was, in fact, not his  briefcase. 

“Baba?” A kid's voice snapped the man out of his  disbelief. “Samir? Is that you?” Before he had finished the  sentence, the boy had entered the kitchen and was now gaping in the same direction in utter amazement.