A Night of Chaos and Reflection
The moon hung high in the sky, casting a pale glow over the empty streets as Nick wandered alone. The air was cool, carrying a strange stillness, but his mind was anything but calm. He had too many thoughts—too many questions about everything happening around him. Wick was asleep, and for once, Nick chose not to wake him. He needed to clear his head on his own.
As he walked, he spotted Vaibhav approaching from the opposite direction.
"Couldn't sleep either?" Vaibhav asked, falling in step beside him.
Nick sighed. "Something like that. Everything feels...off."
Vaibhav nodded. "It is. Too many moving pieces, too many enemies waiting for us to slip."
Their conversation was cut short by the distant roar of motorcycles. The sound grew louder, and within seconds, a gang of rival college students—Dominar—swarmed them on their bikes, their headlights illuminating the street like a pack of wolves circling prey.
Nick immediately stepped forward, shielding Vaibhav slightly. His eyes narrowed as he recognized their leader for the night.
Before he could say anything, he caught movement from the corner of his eye. Varsha and Bhumi.
"Damn it," Nick muttered under his breath. He turned to Vaibhav, his voice firm. "Take them and get out of here. Now."
Vaibhav hesitated. "But—"
"No arguments," Nick cut in. "I'll handle them."
Just as Vaibhav was about to follow the order, another rumble of bikes echoed through the streets. This time, it wasn't just Dominar. Other rival gangs had joined in.
Nick's fists clenched as realization hit him. This wasn't just a fight. This was an ambush. Every gang from rival colleges had teamed up for one reason—to take down The Shield. And since Nick was now the leader, he was their first target.
The first attacker lunged.
Nick moved with effortless precision, dodging and countering with brutal efficiency. One punch sent a guy sprawling, another elbow knocked someone unconscious. Within moments, he had taken down five or six fighters with ease.
Then, a voice cut through the chaos.
"By now, Wick should be dead."
Nick froze. His heart pounded. He turned sharply to see a smirking Dominar member watching him.
Nick's mind raced. Was it a bluff? A distraction? He couldn't afford to let it shake him. He was about to respond when—
CRACK!
A baseball bat slammed into his back.
Nick staggered forward, pain exploding through his ribs as blood trickled from his mouth. But he gritted his teeth, straightened up, and swung back—his fist connecting hard enough to drop the guy who hit him.
Just as the odds seemed overwhelming, another voice broke through the chaos.
"Need a hand?"
Nick turned his head, and relief flooded him. Dipanshu.
Nick exhaled sharply, nodding as Vaibhav rushed to his side, helping him stand.
"Take care of them for me," Nick said, his breath ragged.
Dipanshu smirked. "With pleasure, mate."
The gang members murmured among themselves.
"That's Dipanshu...he's the captain of the 2nd Division…"
"Damn, he must be tough."
Before Dipanshu could throw the first punch, a familiar sound filled the air—a motorcycle engine, roaring like a beast breaking free.
A slow smile crept onto Nick's lips. He knew that sound.
Dipanshu chuckled. "That exhaust… That's Wick's GT 650."
The rival gangs turned their heads as the bike skidded into the scene, its headlights cutting through the darkness. The man sitting on it swung his leg over smoothly, his sharp gaze scanning the area.
A fighter from Dominar took a step forward, clapping mockingly.
"Wow, wow, wow… I'm impressed," he drawled. "So you are the great Wick."
Wick barely spared him a glance. "Who the hell are you?"
The man smirked. "I'm Chetan. And it doesn't matter. Just know that tonight, I'm in charge of Dominar."
Wick didn't wait for him to finish.
He launched forward with his signature kick.
But then—shock rippled through the crowd.
Chetan caught it.
A hush fell over the battlefield.
But Wick wasn't one to stop. As soon as Chetan deflected the attack, Wick switched tactics, throwing a rapid succession of punches and kicks. The battle erupted once more, with Nick, Dipanshu, and the others fighting with everything they had.
Mid-fight, Wick called out. "Vaibhav! Get Nick to the hospital. Now."
Vaibhav hesitated but saw the determination in Wick's eyes. He nodded, quickly supporting Nick and leading him away.
Hours Later…
The police arrived.
At the sight of sirens flashing, the rival gangs scrambled, roaring off on their bikes before they could get caught.
Wick didn't wait. He sped straight to the hospital.
Inside, the group was gathered, worried but relieved as Nick's injuries were being treated. But Wick didn't stay.
Without a word, he walked out.
Vaibhav watched him go, frowning. Wick had barely been inside for five minutes. Something was off.
Vaibhav debated following him, worried that another rift between them was forming. He needed Wick to stay close—he needed to change the future.
But before he could move, Shristi saw him first.
She stepped outside, only to see Wick standing alone, his hands clenched into fists. His head was tilted down, and in the dim light, she saw something that caught her off guard—
Tears.
Then, before she could call out, Wick suddenly punched the wall.
THUD. THUD. THUD.
Each hit came with a guttural scream.
"It was my fault."
"It was my fault."
"I should've been in his place."
Shristi's breath hitched, her heart clenching. But before she could step forward—
Wick disappeared into the night.
Aunt Chaya's House
The long ride gave Wick time to think. Too much time.
When he arrived at his Aunt Chaya's house, she opened the door and immediately frowned.
"You look sad, dear," she said gently. "What happened?"
Wick looked away. His voice was hollow. "I failed."
Chaya simply nodded. Then, after a moment, she asked softly, "Why do we fall?"
Wick's mind was too clouded for an answer.
Chaya sighed. "So that we learn to pick ourselves up." She placed a comforting hand on his arm. "Things always get worse before they get better, Vikram. I know you won't tell me everything—you never do. But I also know the real you."
She met his gaze, her eyes full of quiet strength.
"Promise me something," she said.
Wick said nothing, just stared.
Chaya's voice softened. "If you love someone… tell them. Even if you're scared. Even if it complicates everything. Even if it could burn your life to the ground. Say it. Say it loud."
The Next Day
Wick returned.
And this time, he had a purpose.
He began training Shristi—preparing her for a world where they wouldn't have to rely on anyone to protect her.
Wick stood at the center of the clearing, dressed in a black hoodie and worn-out track pants, his arms crossed, eyes sharp.
Shristi approached slowly, dressed in simple athletic wear. Her hair was tied back tightly, her face unreadable—but there was fire in her eyes.
"You sure about this?" Wick asked, not moving.
She nodded without hesitation. "You said you'd train me. I'm ready."
He tossed a pair of padded gloves at her. She caught them awkwardly.
"No," he said. "If you flinch, you lose. If you hesitate, you get hurt. This isn't about winning—it's about surviving."
Shristi slipped the gloves on, watching him with quiet determination. "Then stop talking and teach me."
Wick cracked a small smile. "Fair enough."
He stepped forward, quick as a shadow, and tapped her shoulder with a closed fist.
"Tag."
Shristi blinked, confused. "What was that?"
"First lesson: never wait for the bell."
Without warning, he lunged again—this time faster. She barely dodged, stumbling back.
"Too slow. Again."
They danced like that for a while—Wick striking, Shristi dodging, blocking, falling, standing up again. Each time she missed, he corrected her. Each time she hit the ground, he offered no hand.
But he never looked away. Not once.
After an hour, she dropped to her knees, breath ragged, sweat dripping down her face.
"I'm trying—" she gasped.
Wick stepped close, crouching in front of her.
"I know you are," he said quietly. "And that's why you'll get stronger. But you can't train like this."
Shristi looked up, confused. "Why not?"
"Because you're still scared," Wick replied. "Not of me. Not of fighting. You're scared of losing control. Of becoming something... darker."
Her eyes flickered—because he was right.
Wick didn't flinch. "If you want to protect yourself, protect others… you have to stop fearing who you are. The anger, the pain, the chaos—it's all part of you. Use it."
She stared at him, trembling slightly. "But what if I become like you?"
There was silence. Then Wick spoke, his voice softer than she'd ever heard.
"Then I'll be there to pull you back."
Her breath caught.
And something shifted between them—something raw, real, and powerful.
Shristi stood again. Her stance firmer. Her fear, fading.
"Again," she said.
Wick nodded. "Good."
And they trained until the sun began to set.
Until bruises bloomed and blood mixed with sweat.
Until fear had no place left to hide.
Two days later, Nick was discharged.
The storm wasn't over.
But they were ready.
To be continued...