**Chapter 6 – Echoes From the Past **
**Mumbai – 1:12 PM**
The sky loomed heavy with humidity as Arjun Verma paced a quiet corner near the entrance of the Dharavi community library. Despite the stifling heat, he remained calm. His system's internal clock reminded him of what the real world had refused to forget:
> **Final Warning – Collection at 4 PM**
Mohan. The debt collector.
Arjun knew the name wasn't just a label—it was a warning. Mohan was part of Mumbai's quiet underground economy. Not quite criminal, but far from lawful. A man who didn't send notices; he sent bruises.
Arjun tapped his temple as he leaned against the warm stone of the wall. He wasn't afraid. Not anymore.
Because inside his mind, an empire stirred.
---
**System World – Cloak Tower Observation Deck**
Inside his sprawling 3000 sq km system world, Arjun summoned the Cloak Tower—his command hub for surveillance, simulation, and reputation control.
A massive digital map hovered in front of him, showing real-world alerts, public data clusters, and flagged mentions from social media and financial registers. He added a new entry manually:
> **Subject: Mohan (Collector)**
> Threat Level: Physical / Short-term
> Action Window: 2 hours 45 minutes
He issued a system-wide clone directive:
> "Run distraction simulations. Create a proxy scenario where you appear to have backing. Objective: delay confrontation. Zero violence. Maximum ambiguity."
Nav01 processed the task in 4.2 seconds. Within the parameters of the simulation, the plan was simple: stage an unexpected interruption using a wildcard.
A variable from Arjun's real life.
Someone with unclear motives.
Someone who could confuse the enemy long enough for Arjun to regain control.
---
**Real World – 3:49 PM**
The road outside Arjun's building lay half-empty, its usual activity dulled by the afternoon heat. He paced slowly by the entrance, pulse steady, expression unreadable.
Then came the scooter.
Mohan's presence announced itself with the low, impatient growl of a rusted silencer. He wore his usual faded red shirt and black aviators, expression tight with expectation.
"You've had time," Mohan said flatly, stepping off the scooter.
Arjun nodded once. "I've made arrangements."
"Oh?" Mohan's tone carried the mockery of disbelief.
Before another word could be exchanged, the soft purr of an engine interrupted them.
A black sedan pulled to a smooth stop across the road.
Clean. Untinted. Luxury.
A man stepped out. Late 20s, maybe 30. Broad shoulders under a tailored blazer. Clean-shaven. No urgency. Just presence.
He adjusted his sleeve slightly and crossed the road like he owned the silence that followed.
Arjun tensed.
The man stopped a few feet away, hands in his pockets.
"Hello, Arjun," he said.
The voice chilled Arjun's spine.
**Vikrant Sharma.**
He hadn't seen him in years. Since college. Since betrayal.
Once a confidant. Then a rival. Then a shadow.
Vikrant looked him over as if inspecting a museum relic.
"You look... remarkably unbroken."
Arjun gave nothing away. "I survive."
Mohan looked between them, frowning.
"You know him?"
Vikrant's smile was faint. "He was the smartest man I knew. Still might be."
Arjun cut in, firm. "He's not here for you, Mohan. And you're not here for him."
Mohan stared long and hard at Vikrant. His gaze flicked to the car, to the gold-tinted watch visible beneath the blazer cuff.
Vikrant reached into his pocket and pulled out a plain white card. He didn't offer it—he *placed* it on the bench nearby.
Just enough motion to suggest indifference.
"Consider this a courtesy call, Mohan," Vikrant said. "I dislike loose ends, and I hate disorganization. Arjun's my problem now. Back off."
With that, he walked away.
He didn't look back.
The car pulled away like a whisper.
Mohan said nothing. He watched the road long after the car disappeared, then turned slowly to Arjun.
"You've changed, Verma."
"People do."
Mohan gave a short grunt and backed off without another word.
---
**System World – Cloak Tower, 7:14 PM**
Arjun stood before the data core, mind racing. He hadn't planned for Vikrant.
He hadn't contacted him. Hadn't tracked him. And yet… there he was. In perfect timing. Like a move two steps ahead in a chess game Arjun didn't know he was playing.
He accessed the surveillance archive. System clones retrieved every possible Vikrant Sharma profile—news, forums, alumni databases.
> "No direct digital presence in the last 18 months," Nav01 reported. "Last known company liquidated. No social media. Business registry clean."
> \[Status: Unknown Operator | Risk Rating: Caution Tier 2]
Arjun logged the file under a private header:
**\[Vikrant Sharma – Ghost Vector]**
He shut down the console.
Whatever Vikrant's game was, it had begun.
But Arjun had already built a world of logic, simulation, and control. And ghosts, no matter how polished, did not belong here.
Not unless they played by his rules.
**End of Chapter 6 **