The old blue car rattled down the empty road 🚙💨 like it might fall apart at any second.
Every bump sounded like a complaint.
Barfi drove with full focus—
eyes sharp 👀,
hands tight on the wheel ✋🚗.
Walter Blue sat beside him, wrapped in a blanket 🧣, humming an old Bollywood tune completely off-key 🎶😌.
Outside, the sky faded into dull gray ☁️.
Cold wind slapped the windows 🌬️.
The town felt…
Too quiet.
Walter suddenly reached forward and turned on the radio 📻.
Static crackled.
Then—
🚨 "Breaking news: multiple reports of psychotic behavior and violent incidents across the town—"
🚨 "Authorities warn citizens to avoid isolated areas—"
Walter raised an eyebrow.
"Doctor… looks like the psycho population is increasing." 🤔
Barfi sighed 😮💨.
"Walter… please don't call them a population."
"They are," Walter replied seriously.
"They multiply without permission."
Barfi rubbed his forehead 🤦.
"Sir… I'm starting to think this treasure isn't worth it."
Walter leaned closer, voice dropping into a dramatic whisper 😼:
"If the treasure wasn't worth it, Doctor…"
"Then why are we here… in the cold night?" 🌌❄️
Barfi swallowed.
He didn't have an answer.
🚗 A SHADOW BEHIND 🚗
In the rear-view mirror—
Barely visible 👁️—
A black sedan followed them.
No headlights.
No sound.
Just a dark shape gliding through the fog 🌫️.
Too smooth.
Too patient.
Barfi's jaw tightened.
To break the tension, he pulled out his old Nokia phone 📱—
scratched screen, cracked edge, still loyal.
He dialed Laddu.
Picked up on the first ring 📞.
"BROOO!" Laddu's voice boomed 😄.
"Long time! How are you? How are the kids!?"
Barfi kept his voice low.
"We're heading to the lighthouse. Something feels wrong. Too many psycho incidents today."
"Lock your doors and windows before sleeping." 🔒
Laddu went quiet.
Then—serious.
"Barfi… listen carefully. If things get dangerous—"
The line crackled ⚡.
Then silence.
Just before the call cut, Laddu said one last thing:
"Just come back alive. Both of you." 🫂
The call ended.
Barfi stared at the phone.
Walter whispered calmly,
"Doctor… why do dramatic calls always end suddenly?" 😐
🖥️ THE HUNTER 🖥️
Inside the black sedan 🚘—
A man in a trench coat sat calmly.
Laptop open 💻.
Small antenna blinking red 🔴.
He replayed the call.
"…on the way to the lighthouse…"
"…psycho incidents…"
"…come back alive…"
A thin smirk appeared 😏.
He wasn't just following them.
He was
📍 tracking their location
🎧 listening to every word
📹 recording their movement
He typed slowly:
"Target confirmed.
Approaching lighthouse.
Prepare for containment."
He closed the laptop.
The hunt had begun.
⚓ THE PORT ⚓
The blue car turned onto an old port road.
🧱 Rusty shipping containers
🏗️ Broken cranes
🌊 Cold ocean wind
🧂 Air thick with salt and danger
And in the distance—
The lighthouse 🗼
Tall.
Broken.
Watching.
Walter exhaled dramatically.
"Ah… home sweet home of nightmares." 😌💀
Barfi parked the car.
Engine off 🔇.
Silence.
Behind them, the black sedan stopped too—
far enough to hide,
close enough to strike.
They stepped out 🚶♂️🚶♂️.
Breath fogged the air ❄️.
Barfi whispered,
"Sir… whatever is inside…"
"we face it together."
Walter placed a shaky but firm hand on his shoulder 🤝.
"Of course, Doctor…"
"I would never let you die alone."
From the shadows, a voice whispered into a radio 📻:
"They've arrived.
Begin Phase One."
💉 SLEEP 💉
The moment they took another step—
PRICK.
PRICK.
Two tiny stings on their necks 🦟💉.
Barfi slapped his skin, confused.
Walter frowned.
"Doctor… I think a mosquito shot me…"
The world tilted.
Barfi's vision blurred 🌫️.
Legs failed.
Walter collapsed face-first 😴.
Two silent men in black coats emerged 🕴️🕴️, lifted them like sacks of grain, and carried them away.
A small motorboat hummed 🚤.
Fog swallowed the sound 🌫️🌊.
🪢 THE TREE HOUSE 🪢
Barfi woke with pain in his wrists 😣.
Ropes.
Tight.
His head throbbed.
Beside him, Walter snored loudly 😴—also tied to a chair.
The room was dim 💡.
Yellow bulbs flickered.
Strange paintings hung crooked 🎨.
Chains dangled ⛓️.
Craft glue… glitter… blood stains?
And on a fancy red sofa ❤️—
A man sat smiling.
Too calm.
Too clean.
He clapped slowly 👏… 👏… 👏…
"Welcome…"
"to the Psycho Tree House." 😁
Barfi stared.
"Tree… house?"
Walter blinked.
"Are there snacks?" 🍪
The man spread his arms theatrically.
"A reunion," he said,
"of uniquely gifted minds."
"Psychopaths. Killers. Chaos lovers." 🧠🔥
Barfi swallowed hard.
"We're not psychos. We're delivery mistakes."
The man leaned forward.
"This year's test was simple."
"Steal the map from the museum."
Walter gasped.
"So… we passed?" 😲
The man smiled wider.
"Beautifully."
Barfi panicked.
"Sir—we stole it by accident. He thought it was a newspaper!"
Walter nodded.
"It had pretty drawings."
The man tilted his head.
"An accidental psycho… is still a psycho."
Barfi snapped.
"Please remove us from your psycho membership list."
The man laughed—slow and cold 😈.
"Oh no… you brought the map into the lion's den."
"You are part of the game now."
Walter whispered,
"Doctor… I think we joined a club."
Barfi whispered back,
"A club of murderers, sir." 😨
Walter nodded seriously.
"Death is a side effect."
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