INT. SUBHADIP'S BEDROOM – ETERNAL NIGHT
Darkness lay thick upon the room, not just as absence of light, but as a presence—an ancient, breathing thing. The corners of the space seemed to dissolve into shadows deeper than black. A fan rotated above with a groaning creak, barely stirring the air heavy with unease. Subhadip tossed beneath his blanket, the cotton now a damp shroud clinging to his fevered skin.
A bead of sweat rolled down his temple, pooling at his jawline, only to vanish into the abyss of his pillow. His breath came shallow, too rapid—like a hunted animal's. His fists clenched and unclenched, twitching as though in combat with unseen terrors. Somewhere in the room, an electrical hum began—low, throbbing, pulsing like a war drum beneath the skin.
Then, like the thunderous echo of a warhead blooming in the far distance of his mind, it arrived—the migraine.
Not pain alone, but memory, prophecy, punishment.
His body tensed. His head pounded.
And then—he slipped.
DREAM SEQUENCE BEGINS – A MYSTIC LANDSCAPE
The world unfolded slowly, petal by petal, revealing a town that could only exist in stories whispered on the lips of ghosts. Hills cloaked in emerald velvet cradled the valley like an offering. Morning mist kissed the tops of pine trees. A river meandered through the heart of the town, a silver serpent sparkling in moonlight that refused to surrender to dawn.
Children danced in narrow alleys, laughter like the tinkling of wind chimes caught in a breeze that smelled of jasmine and wet stone. Elders sat beneath paper lanterns, sipping tea from chipped porcelain, their eyes sagely watching the world unfold, as if remembering futures rather than pasts.
On a rooftop, a single red fox sat—its eyes unblinking, wise, and ancient. It did not blink as Subhadip passed below.
But then—the migraine returned. A throb, then a thunderclap. The scene trembled. The sky began to bleed.
Clouds unraveled into inky tendrils.
The trees groaned, their branches twisting into the forms of grasping hands. The mountains melted like wax under some divine furnace, revealing shadows beneath—towering, shifting, whispering things.
Subhadip stumbled. His vision blurred. And then—
At the river's edge, stood a figure.
Wrapped in shadow, unnameable. The shape of a man, but not. It flickered, like poor reception on a broken television.
It spoke, and though the voice was muffled, distorted, like heard underwater, it bore into Subhadip's very marrow.
"You are not the chosen one… but if anyone were to choose… it would be you."
The heavens cracked. Lightning tore the sky.
Subhadip screamed.
And awoke.
INT. BEDROOM – CONTINUOUS
His chest heaved. His skin, clammy. A cry half-born died on his lips. The digital clock glared red: 7:56 AM.
But outside, through the sheer curtains—there was only night. Eternal, immutable night.
Beside him, Yamiya slept, her breath soft as wind across paper. He watched her for a moment—so calm, so unaware.
"Shit," he muttered, rubbing his face. "I'm late. Himiko's gonna kill me."
He stumbled from the bed, limbs heavy as if gravity had thickened overnight. He reached the bathroom—pushed open the door—and froze.
The scream never came. It was trapped in his throat like a fish caught in a net of terror.
Blood. So much blood.
Himiko lay in the tub. The water crimson. Her wrist open like a book too often read. Yet her eyes—dull, yes—but still glowing with the last embers of life.
She turned her head—each motion a laborious crawl through death's domain.
"He…lp… m-e…"
Subhadip collapsed to his knees, his breath stolen. "No no no—Himiko! Stay with me, please! You're gonna be okay. We'll get help—I'll call the doctor—just stay awake!"
She smiled. Not cruelly. But like someone who has seen peace beyond agony.
"Forget me…" she whispered. "Go… Yamiya's in danger…"
"What are you saying?" His voice cracked. "You're the one dying! I'm not leaving you!"
Her hand shot out, surprisingly strong, grasping his wrist. He flinched.
"I can bend time… She can't…"
He blinked. "What?"
"Go!"
INT. YAMIYA'S ROOM – SECONDS LATER
The door slammed open.
There, silhouetted by the neon-glow seeping through the curtains—stood a figure.
Face covered. Blade raised.
Time slowed.
Subhadip didn't think. His skin erupted—liquid metal shooting from every pore. In a blink, twin katanas formed in his hands, forged by nanobots humming with purpose.
He leapt.
CLANG!
Steel met steel. Sparks like fireflies burst in the air.
Yamiya screamed.
The assassin moved like a phantom, a blur of motion. They twisted, kicked, slashed.
Subhadip blocked. Spun. Parried. Every heartbeat a gamble. Every breath stolen.
The walls cracked. Nano-bricks split open as they crashed through room after room. A dining table shattered. A bookshelf exploded.
Finally—they burst into the open.
EXT. NEON STREET – CONTINUOUS
The rain had started. Gentle, then violent. The city lights painted the world in pinks and purples and melancholy blues.
The assassin vaulted over a parked car. Subhadip chased, boots splashing in puddles.
Blades flashed. Screams echoed. Metal shrieked.
Then—
The assassin stopped.
Subhadip too late.
WHAM!
A heel caught his chest. He flew—crashed through the pharmacy window.
The pharmacist screamed from behind the counter. "Take your damn fight somewhere else!"
"Sorry," Subhadip groaned, gripping a gauze roll and wrapping his bleeding forearm.
He looked at his reflection—cracked in the mirror. His eyes glowed faintly. His muscles hummed. His strength was increasing—but his body still broke like a human's.
He stumbled back outside.
EXT. STREET – FINAL SHOWDOWN
The assassin waited. Blade in hand. Rain running down their mask like tears.
Subhadip's voice cut the silence.
"Why did you do this? Why Himiko?"
The assassin tilted their head. Then—
"I was hired," they said. Voice mechanical, hollow, female.
The rain thickened.
They fought again. Faster. More brutal. Subhadip's rage burned now, not with fire—but lightning. He slashed.
The assassin screamed—a clean hit across the shoulder.
She staggered. Turned to flee.
But he was faster. Disarmed her. Kicked her down.
And with one final breath—held the blade to her throat.
She didn't flinch. Not once.
He hesitated.
Then slowly, he reached out.
Ripped the metal mask off.
And froze.
Not a man.
A woman.
Short, dark hair plastered to her cheeks. Her eyes—sharp, fierce, full of pain and memory. Familiar. Too familiar.
He staggered back, katana clattering to the ground.
"…You?"
She met his gaze. Unwavering. Unapologetic.
"Yes," she said. "Now you see it."
"What the hell is going on?"
"The truth starts here, Subhadip Seal."
He trembled.
"What truth?"
"The one they've hidden from you. The one Himiko tried to protect. The one your nanobots were designed to erase."
She stood, slowly. Didn't attack.
"You were never supposed to wake up. You weren't meant to dream. But now you have. And that means everything changes."
Subhadip stared at the blood on his hands, the broken city around him, and the woman who once meant everything, now pointing him to a mystery deeper than time.
In the distance, a siren howled.
And the curtain of night refused to lift.
BACK TO THE STREET – CONTINUOUS – NIGHT RAINING
The rain thickened like a veil of falling glass, cascading over the broken city as if heaven itself mourned silently from above. Neon lights reflected off the wet pavement, turning the blood on Subhadip's lips into something that shimmered between beauty and horror.
His breath came in ragged bursts. The twin katanas, forged seconds ago from his nanobots, buzzed with a low-frequency hum—like wild wolves waiting to leap again.
Across from him, the masked assassin stood—steady despite the bleeding shoulder, chest rising and falling with precise rhythm, more machine than flesh in her control.
And then—
She ran.
No hesitation.
A blur of dark movement through the downpour.
Subhadip didn't wait to think. He reacted. Feet skidding, katanas twisting, he gave chase—until she spun.
CRACK.
A solid, merciless kick landed on his chest.
He flew backward, the world tilting, lungs collapsing under the weight of impact. He hit the wall with a bone-shattering thud. Paint peeled. Bricks cracked.
And yet—he stood.
He always stood.
His gaze rose slowly, rain trailing down his face like tears he no longer knew how to cry.
And then—he spoke.
Low. Controlled. Dangerous.
SUBHADIP (voice trembling like a tightening wire)
"I've been holding back my arousals… for too long."
The assassin paused mid-step.
Subhadip's face was unreadable—somewhere between rage and madness. The kind of madness born not of lust, but of restraint. Of knowing what he was capable of… and choosing, every second, not to become it.
SUBHADIP
(eyes blazing)
"If I let them loose now… you'd die."
A long silence stretched between them.
Then—
She laughed.
Not cruelly.
Not kindly.
Just… knowingly. As if she'd been waiting to hear those words her entire life.
ASSASSIN
(quietly)
"Try it."
She stepped toward him. Her boots made small splashes in the puddles. Her breath misted in the night air.
ASSASSIN
"You'll never get it. You'll never truly have it."
And then—
Before he could react—
She kissed him.
Not tender. Not violent. Something in between. Her lips were cold from the rain, but the kiss was hot with defiance. It wasn't passion—it was a weapon. A misdirection. A mask behind a mask.
Subhadip stiffened, flabbergasted, mind short-circuiting for a split second between memory and adrenaline.
Then—pain.
Cold, searing pain.
A knife. Into his chest.
Not deep enough to kill. Just enough to shock. To warn.
She pulled away, their eyes still locked.
The blade lodged just beneath his collarbone. Blood trickled—red as vengeance, warm as betrayal.
ASSASSIN
(softly, almost with pity)
"You still think this is about love… or hate. But it's not. It's about time."
She twisted the knife once—slow, deliberate.
Subhadip gasped. The world narrowed to her face.
Rain ran down her cheeks now. Maybe water. Maybe tears.
ASSASSIN
"You want answers? Earn them. Bleed for them."
She let go. The knife clattered to the ground.
EXT. NEON-LIT STREET – NIGHTFALL UNDER SYNTHETIC RAIN
The droplets weren't born of clouds.
They hissed from unseen ducts above the skyline—part of the city's artificial weather system designed to simulate seasonal cycles long lost to climate decay. Each droplet was too uniform, too cold. And when they touched skin, they didn't bring the earthy scent of monsoon, but the faint metallic tang of a sterilized world.
SUBHADIP
(bleeding, gasping, drenched)
"It's not even real rain..."
His voice was dazed, floating somewhere between consciousness and the ache of betrayal.
The assassin's breath caught for half a second, her eyes scanning the mechanical drizzle as if noticing it anew.
ASSASSIN
(quietly)
"Nothing's real anymore... Not here. Not me."
Then, suddenly, she lunged—knife forward—but he was faster now.
Fueled by a kind of primal fury that no rain could extinguish, Subhadip caught her wrist, twisted hard, and flipped her onto the synthetic-wet asphalt. Her body hit with a slap of wet cloth and breathless rage.
He pinned her down, one hand on her wrist, the other pressing her shoulder to the ground.
Sirens screamed louder.
POLICE CAR – ARRIVAL
Bright white headlights sliced through the night like divine judgment. Officers poured out. Holographic insignias glimmered on their armor—"KOLKATA ZONE-5 METROPOLITAN BUREAU."
Their boots splashed through the uniform puddles. Guns drawn. Orders fired.
OFFICER #1
"Step back! On your knees!"
But Subhadip raised a bloodied hand.
SUBHADIP
"She's the one. But don't shoot. She's unarmed now."
The assassin looked up at him, blinking through the rain that wasn't rain—through a world she no longer believed in.
ASSASSIN
"You still don't get it. This... This was just the first loop."
SUBHADIP
(whispers)
"What do you mean?"
ASSASSIN
"They're watching, Subhadip. Always watching. Behind every cloud, every camera... even this rain is laced with surveillance nanites."
She turned her eyes skyward.
ASSASSIN
"Smile for the gods of glass and wire."
Then the cuffs were on her.
---
INT. AMBULANCE BAY – MOMENTS LATER
Subhadip sat on a stretcher, bandaged and pale, watching the clouds overhead swirl unnaturally—like gears turning in a forgotten machine.
Artificial rain still fell.
The medic tending to him shook her head.
MEDIC
"This rain's not supposed to start till next week. The system's glitching again."
Subhadip blinked.
Or was it...?