The luxury apartment rooftop smelled of expensive cologne, chlorine, and fried circuits. Inspector Dhillon stood over the pool, where Dwivedi's body was still floating, looking like a piece of over-boiled paneer.
"Arre, *teri ma ki...*" Dhillon stopped himself, glancing at the forensics team. "Fucking hell, another one? At this rate, the only thing GEC will be producing is a high body count and a lot of paperwork for me. This kid looks like he tried to play Pikachu in the bathtub."
"Sir, he's another GEC student. B.Tech, 3rd year," a junior officer reported.
"Of course he is," Dhillon sighed, cracking a peanut. "What is this? A serial killer or a particularly violent career counseling session? This college is a goddamn cursed site. It's not an institute; it's a slaughterhouse with a library."
The Shutdown
Dhillon marched into Chairman Atul Yadav's office an hour later, trailing the scent of peanuts and impending doom.
"Close it down, Yadav," Dhillon barked. "Switch to online mode. Zoom, Teams, carrier pigeons—I don't care. Just get these kids off the streets before they all end up on a platter."
"But Inspector!" Yadav pleaded, his hands trembling. "This happened at a private residence! Outside the campus! My NIRF rankings will plummet!"
"Rankings? Yadav, your students are being turned into soup and human batteries."
"It's just a string of unfortunate coincidences!"
"Coincidences? An arrow through the head is a coincidence. A head in the gravy is a tragedy. This pool incident? That's a pattern, you greedy peacock."
"If we go online, the parents will demand a fee refund! Do you have any idea how much the electricity bill for the AC is?"
"Excuse me, Inspector?"
A pale, shaky voice cut through the argument. Raj stood at the door, clutching a notebook like a shield. "I've been tracking the mechanical similarities. The pressure required for the arrow trap and the voltage used on Dwivedi... they both require a specific knowledge of the college's power grid and lab equipment."
A junior officer snickered. "Look at this, sir. Sherlock Holmes of Ghaziabad. Did your mommy buy you that notebook?"
"Wait," Dhillon said, squinting as Raj flipped the book open. The pages were filled with complex diagrams of the mess hall kitchen and the restaurant restroom. "This... this actually makes sense. You're the nerd from the bus."
"I want to help," Raj said firmly. "I can see things you might miss. I know the students."
"Fine," Dhillon shrugged. "You're my 'Detective Intern.' You don't get a gun, you don't get a badge, but you get to tell me who's next. Subin, you're with him."
Subin, standing in the hallway, looked like he was about to faint. "Sir, why am I involved? I just want to eat my parathas in peace!"
The Paranoia of the Elite
Back at a hidden corner of the campus, the remaining "Elite" members were gathered. They looked like they had seen ghosts.
1. **Pihoo:** "I'm staying in my room. I've locked the door, the windows, and even the vent. If a fly comes in, I'm screaming."
2. **Ali:** "Man, I just hope it's not... you know... the relatives of the people I..."
3. **Pihoo:** "Oh, just say it, you filth! The way you sexually harassed half the girls back in high school? Is one of their brothers coming for us?"
4. **Ali:** "Shut up, Pihoo! You guys thought my jokes were funny back then! You laughed!"
5. **Syed:** "We laughed because we were scared of Rahul. Now Rahul is gravy."
6. **Shila:** "What if it's Raj? The nerd we bully? He's always reading those detective books."
7. **Ria:** (Staring into space, her voice hollow) "It's not Raj. He doesn't have the stomach for it."
8. **Rehan:** (Suddenly screaming) "STOP IT! ALL OF YOU!"
The group went silent. Rehan's eyes were bloodshot. "The killer is probably one of us. Or someone watching us right now. Let's just stay isolated. Don't trust anyone. Not even your own shadow."
The Simulator
That night, Raj was at his family's luxury apartment, trying to clear his head by hitting cricket balls in the private nets. *Whack. Whack.* Suddenly, a thick, sweet-smelling smoke began to hiss from the grass. "Subin?" Raj called out.
*THWACK.*
A cricket ball, launched at a lethal velocity from the shadows, slammed into Raj's forehead. The world went black.
When he opened his eyes, he wasn't in his apartment. He was in a room where every inch of the wall was covered in surreal paintings—peaceful cornfields, grazing cows, and blue skies. The contrast was sickening.
"You're finally awake," a voice whimpered. Subin was tied to a chair next to him.
"Subin? Where are we?" Raj groaned, his head throbbing.
"You're the detective, man! I think we're next! We're gonna die!" Subin was sobbing openly.
Suddenly, metallic clanks echoed. Four mechanical arms hissed out of the floor, grabbing their limbs and pinning them against the painted wall.
"Welcome, newly appointed detectives! Hahahaha!" A distorted, robotic voice boomed from hidden speakers.
"Please, sir! Leave us! We'll do anything!" Subin shrieked.
A steel sword, suspended from a rail on the ceiling, screamed toward Raj's face, stopping only an inch from his nose. The air from its passage stung his skin.
"Tell me, Subin," the voice teased. "Who should I keep? The 'Comic Book Detective' Raj, or the 'Nerdy Sidekick' Subin? I only need one victim today. Choose."
Subin looked at Raj. His face was a mask of pure, primal terror. "I'm sorry, Raj... I'm so sorry. Your family has everything. Money, power... I'm the only hope for mine. My sisters... my parents... I can't die." He looked at the ceiling. "Kill Raj! Please! Just let me go!"
Raj felt a coldness in his chest that had nothing to do with the room's temperature. "Subin..."
"I don't like crying men," the voice hissed.
From the wall behind Subin, a circular blade—like a high-speed meat slicer—erupted. It was a blur of silver. Subin didn't even have time to change his expression. The blade passed through his neck with a wet, zipping sound. Subin's head didn't fall to the floor; a mechanical basket swung out with perfect timing to catch it.
Raj let out a guttural scream of pure horror. "Subin! No!"
"And for you, Raj," the voice whispered. "A reward for your skills. A reminder."
An arrow, smaller than the one that killed Verma, hissed from the corner. It didn't aim for his heart. It slammed through the ring finger of Raj's left hand, pinning it to the wall behind him. The bone snapped like a dry twig.
Raj's vision blurred with white-hot rage and agony. He stared at the basket holding his best friend's head until the darkness took him again.
The Awakening
Raj woke up to the steady *beep-beep-beep* of a heart monitor. His hand was a mountain of bandages.
Inspector Dhillon, Chairman Yadav, and Ria were standing at the foot of his bed.
"Rest easy, son," Dhillon said, his voice unusually soft. "You've been through hell."
"Subin..." Raj croaked.
"We found... what was left," Dhillon said. "Don't worry about the case now. We'll handle it."
Raj looked at Ria. She looked terrified, but there was something else in her eyes—guilt? Or was it excitement? Raj closed his eyes, his remaining fingers curling into a fist. The investigation wasn't over. For him, it had just become personal.