The door to the Honda City nearly got ripped off its hinges as Dev threw it open.

“Get in, get in!” he

yelled at Dhruv as he stumbled down the stairs of the British Library, New Delhi, lugging a duffel bag
of old books behind him.

Dhruv didn’t need to be told twice. He threw the bag in the backseat as he and Dev climbed in. “Go,
go, floor it!” he barked at Dev as he pushed the ignition button. “I’m trying, it’s not working!” Dev
snapped back as he pushed at the start button with forceful intent.

The doors to the library bust open as a man dressed in a suit walked out, covered in blood. He
quickly scanned his surroundings, his eyes coming to rest on the car. He smiled, his teeth covered in
blood and innards, as he stepped towards the car.

Fortunately for the boys, the City chose that moment to finally fire up its drained batteries and let
out a gasping roar. Dev didn’t wait around. He slammed the accelerator as fast as he could, changing
gears in a smooth, practiced motion the way he had done over his twelve long years doing this. The
car roared once more, this time to life, and sped away. In the rearview mirror, Dhruv could still see
the rakshasa standing there, grinning at the car.

Dev drove straight to India Gate, focused intently on the road all that time. It was 3 AM, the streets
were mostly empty, but he couldn’t take chances. Never ended well when he took a chance. Dhruv
had his rifle out the whole time, sitting in his lap, watching every single car passing by with his hawk-
like gaze. The boys didn’t let up until they were circling the Gate, crowned in the tricolour.

Dev slunk back in his seat a little, letting out a sigh. Dhruv stashed his rifle in the duffel bag. “What
the hell happened back there?” He asked Dev.

“I’ll tell you what happened back there, we went in for jack and came out with squat”, Dev snarked
back. “The rakshasa was onto me the moment it saw me step into the myths section. Ripped up
three late-nighters coming after me. I barely got away”

“Did you get the book?” Dhruv asked quizzically. “No, Dhruv, I didn’t get the damn book, because I
was a little busy running from a monster” Dev replied.

“Okay, that puts us in a pickle. Now what do we do?” Dhruv asked.

“Beats me. Only leads we got so far is that one of the assistants at the British library really doesn’t
like it when people turn up researching methods on killing a rakshasa. Oh, and the Hanuman Kavach
mantra only slows a rakshasa down.”

Dhruv raised his eyebrows. “Seriously? When were you gonna tell me?”

Dev snorted. “Dude, you’re fat. Any rakshasa sees you, mantra or not they will chow you down,
you’re just too much meat to pass up. Slowing one down won’t do you any good.”

“Okay, dude, enough with the body shaming. You got any ideas what do we do next?”

“Clearly I don’t, and now we’ve got a rakshasa loose in the city. So I’m thinking instead of thinking
what to do next, it’s time to take a look at what we did.”
24 HOURS EARLIER
Dhruv was startled out of his sleep by Dev entering the car, carrying a brown paper bag. Dhruv
stretched his arms, straightening his back, and yawned. “What’chu get?” He asked Dev.

“Two spicy chickens, some fries, and nuggets. Everybody knows the nuggets are the best at McD’s”,
Dev replied, shaking the paper bag.

“I was asking about the supposed monster in Lutyens Circle. And the best dish at McD’s is Maharaja
Mac”, Dhruv replied.

“What? No, the Maharaja Mac tastes like smoke and little else. Texture sucks too, and god knows it is
messy as hell to eat”, Dev replied. Dhruv raised an eyebrow. “Okay, right, the monster”, Dev raised
his hands in a peaceable gesture. “Divisha called, says the reports check out. Eight missing men, no
bodies, save one big heap of blood and bones, flesh picked clean off. Police are still trying to ID the
body, using dental records if you can believe it, which honestly I can’t. Oh, and get this – cows at the
dairy farm in Badarpur? Haven’t given milk for weeks.”

“Okay, that sounds like… a rakshasa, as far as I can remember? Milk magically gone from cows, the
flesh of men – the works?” Dhruv asked.

“Bang on, sidekick”, Dev replied. “Divisha’s sent over pics of the FIRs filed for each of the missing
persons, so bring out that laptop, while I crack open my dinner.”

Dhruv tapped away at his keyboard, burger in hand, occasionally keeping it down to take his notes.
Dev was intently focused on watching reels on Instagram, smearing his screen with grease from the
chicken. “Find anything, nerd?” Dev asked, chewing.

“Oh, dude, that is disgusting, don’t speak when you’re chewing” Dhruv replied. “So get this – the
only thing linking the eight missing persons is that they’re from Delhi University. Nothing else about
them coincides – different colleges, friend groups, hobbies. I scoured their social media, nothing off
or shady about them. There’s nothing else to go on here.”

“Delhi University, huh? Must be quite the nostalgia trip for you”, Dev nudged Dhruv.

“Yeah, I totally miss the days when I was some schmuck hanging out with friends and then you
barged in and blew my buddy’s head off.” Dhruv replied sarcastically.

“That was a pisaach, and if I hadn’t got it, it would’ve got you, and we wouldn’t be here bantering in
this car”, Dev replied happily. “I’d say I did a good job.”

“If you were capable of doing good jobs, you might’ve been able to recharge the batteries on the car
once in a while, god forbid maybe even clean it up a little.” Dhruv replied absent-mindedly. “But no,
you just have to stick to your fake travel influencer gig, seeing the real India through the dirty
windshield of a Honda City.”

“Hey, it’s worked for me for twelve years now”, Dev replied. “And Dad was happy enough to let me
get out of his hair for the price of a car. I ever tell you I named her Roxy?”

“I’m not calling the car that”, Dhruv replied. “Here, check this”, he turned the laptop screen towards
Dev, several windows open. “All the vics come from colleges in the North Campus. The rakshasa who
was targeting them must have had access to the place.”
“So what are you thinking? Fellow student? Hot professor? Creepy janitor? Security guard?” Dev
asked.

“Worth a shot. We’ll canvass the place, ask around, see if we can find something odd about one of
the residents.” Dhruv replied.

“Okay, it’s a start. But how do we get in the university itself? Can’t just stroll around asking people
where the bathroom is”, Dev replied.

“Oh, I still have my college ID in my wallet”, Dhruv said, flashing a dirty ID in the see-through net of
his purse. “And you finally get to live out your ‘real’ gig.”

Dev raised his eyebrows, then leaned back. “No. No, that’s a terrible idea.”

“Oh come on, it’s a great idea” Dev said to the stall owner. “All you have to do is answer a couple of
questions for the camera, I take a couple of pics, and before you know it students will be swarming to
see DU’s flagship Maggi stall.”

“Eh man, I dunno”, the shop owner replied, tossing the instant noodles with soy sauce in a kadhai.
“Enough kids come by to make the business run, you know? And I make good Maggi, you try once,
no?”

“I would if I didn’t blow it all on burgers”, Dev muttered under his breath. “I’m not talking
sustainability, uncle, I’m talking profits. Money. Cold, hard cash given freely and legally to you. And I
know you don’t pay tax so it’s even rosier for you.”

The shop owner transferred the noodles to a paper plate, handing it over to a young girl who seemed
to be enjoying this conversation very much. “Okay, fine”, he said. “But you don’t film me making the
Maggi. It is a special work.”

“What’s so special about it?” Dev asked, pulling his phone out.

“Secret sauce, boy. Won’t tell you the mojo”, the owner replied as he put some noodles in boiling
water with what looked suspiciously like dried weed leaves. Dev raised an eyebrow as he started
recording the stall, filming it from several angles. “So how many customers you get a day?”

“About a hundred, sometimes lesser.”

“And how do you take payment?”

“Anything that works boy, cash, online – I even have a card machine.”

“I’m sure you do. I bet you see all sorts around here, eh?”

“College campus is a good place for business. No matter what who is, they all love my Maggi. Best in
Delhi!”

“Right, you notice anything strange about some student here? Maybe… someone who doesn’t love
Maggi?”

“Impossible. Everyone loves the Maggi. Those who don’t have no business here.”

“Notice anyone with strange mannerisms? Like shivering, or clacking their jaws together, maybe
someone who sits by your fire a long time, watching… others?”
“It’s November, boy, half the shivering and chittering patients on the campus come and eat a Maggi
by the fire after they down their cough syrup. How are these questions helping tourism? ”

“Oh, it’s kind of a thing my channel has, I, uh, tell people about the clientele through the eyes of
hangout spots, or, something”, Dev stuttered. “Anyways, I’ve got some good footage, you go follow
my page yeah? I’ll stitch some of it together, upload it, and business shall boom. Probably.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t find anything”, Dhruv said as he walked back to the car. “No, except a cranky
Maggi seller who drugs half the campus with weed noodles” Dev replied, munching down the last of
the nuggets and throwing the box aside, as he climbed off the City’s hood. “You got anything?”

“Just some names of some restaurants and, uhm, other joints in the city students like to hang out at.
I cross referenced them with some of the places that pop up on the social profiles of our vics, and I
got eight more places we can check out. Talk about a leg day, eh?”

“Damn”, Dev replied as he sat down in the car. “What’s the list?”

“I got a couple of eateries, we’ll go check those out first, split up, cover more ground. Then I got the
planetarium, two museums, and two libraries. So you take us to Satyaniketan first, and then-“

“Whoa whoa, hold on a second, cowboy”, Dev interjected. “We’ve been doing this crap all morning
now and so far we haven’t even thought about how the hell we kill this thing once we find it.”

“Oh, I thought all you had to do to banish them to Pataal was just recite the Hanuman Kavach”,
Dhruv replied.

“That’s modern lore, it’s probably a bust”, Dev shot back. “We need to find another way.”

“Look, why don’t you ask Divisha to do the research, meantime you and I can actually focus on
tracking it down, yeah? We’ve done this before, you and I, so quit worrying, we’ll find something.”

NOW
“I told you we should’ve found a way to kill it first”, Dev ranted. “Stop blaming me, you always blame
me. Blame Divisha, she couldn’t dig up anyth-“

“Oh don’t you go around dragging her into this, she is doing the best that she c-“

“Yeah well maybe her best isn’t good en-“

“Maybe if you had kept your head for once then-“

“Oh, if I had kept my head? I am the calmer one of us Dev!”

“No you’re not! Not right now at least, seeing how-“

“No, no, you agreed to my plan, you can’t just start shifting-“

“Your plan was a shitty plan, all we’ve done so far is go on a wild goose-“

“Oh so you had a better idea? Well thanks for sharing with the class, Dev! Need me to give you a star
on your notebook?”

Dev gritted his teeth, then sighed. “Look, man, I’m sorry, I’m just… a little on edge, I suppose.”

Dhruv sighed as well. “Yeah, me too.”

The two rode in silence for a while. “Anything from Divisha?” Dhruv asked. Dev shook his head in the
negative. “So, what, we keep driving around the city while the rakshasa goes around killing people,
working its way up to us?”

“Hey, you wanted to get out of the village roads. Welcome to the city, big boy, enjoy the tour.”

“This is lame”, Dhruv said. “All of it. Whole crap about the myths being real, these things we kill, all of
it just… sucks.”

Dev raised an eyebrow. “Well if you need money, you can always go make another website, like that
time in Bihar.”

“No, it’s not the money”, Dhruv replied. “It’s just, us two out here in this crappy car-“

“-She is not crappy, don’t call her that-“

“-risking our lives, dealing with all this dark mysterious bloody stuff, stepping over guts every day,
holding down and slaughtering literal abominations, having people look at us like lunatics. What part
of this is even enjoyable? Who would ever choose this over some normal plain jane life?”

Dev was silent for a while. “Don’t think we chose this life, Dhruv”, he said. “I think it chose us. What
with my gramps’ final words, I just knew I had to do this. My fate was sealed.”

“And there you go, another existential crapheap. If monsters are real, then is fate real too? What
about karma or whatever? I know I’m doing my job reluctantly right now, but what if I never even
wanted this in the first place? Some crappy god out there just chose me to-“

“Shhhh, hey, hey”, Dev whispered, slowing down the car. “I turned a full circle. Look there.”

The rakshasa from the library was standing in front of the iron gates of a large white building, blood
still visible on its clothes. “The hell is it doing?”, Dhruv wondered.

“Rakshasas can’t enter homes without permission”, Dev replied quietly. “Especially ones with iron
bars.”

The rakshasa picked up a stick lying on the sidewalk, and poked the gates open just enough to pass
through. Dhruv turned and looked at Dev, eyebrow raised.

“What? That’s what the lore says”, Dev replied.

“Yeah, well, we gotta get in there before the rakshasa kills someone else”, Dhruv replied, stepping
out of the car. “Grab the weapons, we try them all till we know what works.”

Dev and Dhruv stepped gingerly through the dirty hallways, knives with hilts wrapped in rosary beads
drawn in their hands. Dev was shouldering a bag of holy objects, ready to throw any one anytime at
the rakshasa.

“The hell is this place anyhow? Stinks like a skunk”, Dev complained.

“It’s a hostel, for immigrants from the south. They stay here, work odd jobs in the government
offices.”

“Yeah? You think one of them is a janitor maybe?” Dev asked.

There was a sharp noise, like the crackling of an old wrapped underneath a shoe. Dev stopped
immediately, turning his head to face Dhruv. “That you?”
“Nope”, Dhruv replied as he turned around, readying the knife.

Dev brought out a palm leaf scroll with a mantra inscribed on it. “Mantra dedicated to Shiva”, he told
Dhruv. “Only other god I know who directly deals with monsters like this.”

Another crack. The boys backed up against each other for safety. But before they could decide their
next course of action, the wall next to Dhruv burst open as the rakshasa jumped forth and punched
him across the hallway. “Dhruv!”, Dev screamed as he lunged at the rakshasa with a thrust, only to be
slammed into the wall, duffel bag falling down. The rakshasa grinned at them both.

“Dev! The mantra!” Dhruv yelled as he charged at the rakshasa. Dev scrambled up just as the
rakshasa and Dhruv collided in the hallway, lunging, stabbing, and poking at each other. Dev
scrambled for the scroll in the rubble, only to see it torn in four. “Dammit, hold out, Dhruv!” he
yelled as he started to gather the pieces.

Dhruv didn’t need to be told twice, but he wasn’t doing so well against the rakshasa. He could tell
the knife was hurting the monster, but not enough to put it down. The rakshasa got more pissed with
each second, and it was taking all of Dhruv’s concentration to not eat a monster-infused haymaker
on his jaw.

“Nagendra Haraya Trilochana!” Dev started chanting. “Basmanga Ragaya Maheswara! Nithyaya
Shudhaya Digambaraya!”

The rakshasa screamed and turned to look back at Dev. Dhruv plunged his knife as deep as possible
into the monster’s backbone, but it didn’t even care this time as it charged full speed towards Dev,
kicking his head into the wall.

“DEV!” Dhruv shouted, chasing after them. Dev’s head lolled down, sinking on his chest. The
rakshasa turned to smile at Dhruv, long black talons sliding out of its hands.

Dev looked up, blood running from his nose, a cocky smile on his face. “Tasmai Nakaraya
Namashivaya, bitch”, he said.

The rakshasa screamed as bright white light leaked from its mouth and eyes, almost as if it was on
fire from within, as its skin cracked and more light shone through. There was a blinding blast as the
monster exploded from within, that caused Dhruv to cower down and cover his eyes. When he
opened them again, all that remained was the wreck of a wall, and Dev sitting down on the floor.

Dhruv helped Dev up. “You alright?” he asked. Dev massaged the back of his head. “Feels like I
downed a whole bottle of Jagermeister”, he replied. “But I’ll live, I suppose.”

“Yeah, I guess you will”, Dhruv said, dusting off Dev’s jacket. They heard a lock click as a door opened
and a middle-aged man in pajamas and a vest stared at them. “What the hell’s going on?” he asked.

“There was this, uh, gas leak, we’re plumbers trying to fix it” Dhruv replied quickly.

The man raised his eyebrow. “Am I supposed to believe that?”

“Generally it works”, Dev mumbled, wiping the blood off his face.

The man stepped into the hallway, shutting the door behind him. “Generally it does Dev, but not this
time. This time you’re lucky I’m around.”

The two boys stared at the man, before standing up straight. “’Scuse me?” Dev asked.
The man smiled. “Oh boy, you two really don’t get it, do you? I mean, all these years? All those
strokes of unfathomably good luck, choice placement of things and objects? And now, this whole
rakshasa deal?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Dhruv asked, perturbed and angry.

“Oh, I think you have some idea, Dhruv”, said the man. “Given how well-read you are, I’m sure the
thought has crossed your mind already.”

“No. That’s not possible”, Dhruv replied, increasingly disturbed by the minute.

“The hell is he talking about, Dhruv?” Dev demanded.

“You’re a story, Dev”, the man said. “You’re not real. Neither are monsters or demons or rakshasas.
Your life? It never happened. It’s just this one isolated incident that I cooked up drinking some Pepsi
in the dark to entertain whoever reads it, that’s all.”

“Bullshit. These injuries are real. The rakshasa was real. We killed it, the way we usually do” Dev shot
back.

“Ah, okay, alright, that’s how this is going to be”, the Writer replied. “Fine, here’s a trick. We’re now
in a five-star hotel room, snacks on the table, stocked up minibar. How about we talk here instead of
a dingy hallway? Oh, and your injuries are nonexistent Dev, no need to cry about them.”

Dhruv gingerly got up from the silky mattress, staring at the heap of snacks in front of him. Dev
touched his face, but there were no bruises or welts or blood there. He stared at the Writer. “What
the hell?”

“Oh, good job with the rakshasa by the way”, the Writer started. “I couldn’t really figure out what I
wanted the small bad to be, so I just picked up on the thing closest to home, y ’know? Of course, I
had to throw some difficulty your way, so the Hanuman Kavach didn’t work. It’s not that entertaining
if you just magically kill everyone first try. Though don’t worry, I’m always looking out for you two to
not get hurt.”

“Looking out for us? This your way of doing that, by giving us crappy lives that, I don’t know, you put
into words and people read it? What the hell kind of an existence is this?” Dhruv asked angrily.

“Oh simmer down, will you? It’s a story existence. I don’t really care about you or your lives, neither
does anyone else that reads this. It’s just about how you two are important for the story. The rest is
detail, and honestly, if the big picture is nice enough, no one really cares about details like how Dev
shouldn’t have a skull right now, but does.” He turned to look at Dev. “Plot armor. You’re welcome.”

“Why? Why a story of suffering? Couldn’t you have written something that involved a nice high-end
apartment, champagne, and girls?” Dev asked.

“I told you, it’s suffering. Watching others overcome difficult trials is fun. Sometimes. Hence the
whole mythological hunters reciting old song lyrics to kill a demon shebang”, the Writer replied.
“Everyone does it, you know. All us Writers, we don’t spare a single thought over who we create, just
what. And once the story is done, it is all over, no longer our concern.”

“So why now? Why are you here? Where were you the past decade?” Dhruv asked.

The Writer shrugged. “Oh, you know, the past decade didn’t really happen, it’s just a vague detail or
something. But anyway I’m here because I wanted to thank the two of you. For a short while, about
six pages by my reckoning, you two were entertaining in your own way. See, I’m a nice guy, I do spare
some amount of time thinking about my characters.”

“Your characters”, Dev said, his tone incredulous. “So what, this thing in front of us, this is you as a
character in your own story?”

“Believe me, it’s weird for me too”, the Writer replied. “I’m watching myself writing myself in a
conversation with two characters I wrote myself. Really messes with the head at times. That’s why
this is a one-off.”

“Considering you didn’t reveal yourself to us for the whole of our lives until now only to tell us you’re
just a dickbag, yeah, this better be a one-off”, Dhruv said. “Now put us back in Delhi.”

The Writer sighed. “About that”, he said. “The reason I wanted to thank you is because frankly I’m
done with you two. You’re entertaining, but also repetitive. Can’t keep writing this whole thing again
and again with a new monster each time forever, you know? But hey, in terms of the meta-psychotic
human hive mind – the real human hivemind, not whatever passes for that in this story – you get to
live forever, hunting monsters, fighting demons, the works. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll write a
sequel.”

“That’s it? That’s your whole plan? Show up, tell us we mean nothing to you, then put us in stasis till
hell freezes over?” Dev asked.

“There was something about a relevant commentary on the relationship of a writer with their work
somewhere in here, but honestly I forgot, and it’s such a drag to try and remember”, the Writer
replied. “Besides, there are worse fates. I could have you both killed in a horrific manner, then
brought back to life by magical means, et cetera et cetera, ad infinitum. I could mess up your
character growth, change your plotlines, the whole nine yards. But I don’t want that for you, so I’m
ending it here, yeah? A one-shot.”

“Yeah, well, if this is the best you can do, then you suck as a writer man”, Dhruv replied.

Well, tell me about it. But end of the day, I can just try to do whatever it is I think I wanna do, and
how that ends up in this case is not in my hands. Just like it wasn’t really in the Rakshasa’s hands to
survive, or Dhruv and Dev to kill it. Or maybe it is, just like how Dev and Dhruv thought it was up to
them, y’know? I want to keep going. I want to keep writing. But some days, I don’t think I can, and
others I don’t think I should. Only way I’ll know is if you’re still reading this.

So, are you still reading?