Chapter 6: The Price of Loyalty
Arjun Kade crouched in the shadows of Dharavi's alleys, the scarred woman's threat—"Next time, it's your sister"—burning in his mind like a brand. The new cart, its canopy patched but its wheels wobbling, stood vulnerable outside the shack, a target painted by the smoldering ruins of his neighbors' roofs. Meera's cough had escalated into a hacking fit, her frail body racked with fever, the two hundred rupees for medicine a distant memory in his three hundred rupee tin box. The VedaCorp raid had left the slum tense, whispers of torch-wielding agents spreading fear. His ribs ached from the stun baton, his jaw throbbed from Raju's goons, and his spirit wavered under the weight of despair.
The night was thick with humidity, the air heavy with the scent of burnt wood and desperation. Vikram huddled beside him, his neon-green shirt dulled by soot, muttering, "Bhai, they'll kill us—or Meera. What now?" Priya knelt nearby, her laptop casting a faint glow, her fingers trembling as she scanned VedaCorp's chatter. "They're planning a sweep tomorrow," she whispered. "Relic bounties are up to fifteen thousand. We're hunted." Arjun clenched his fists, the last shred of hope pinned to the Yantra-less future. "We fight back," he said, his voice steady despite the fear.
Fighting back required allies, and in Dharavi, that meant the Bhaiya Gang—local toughs who ruled the black market. Arjun had crossed paths with their leader, Sanjay Bhai, a wiry man with a scar across his neck, during a delivery run. Sanjay owed him a favor after Arjun saved his sister from a rickshaw accident. Swallowing his pride, Arjun approached their hideout—a crumbling warehouse near the docks. Sanjay lounged on a crate, his men eyeing Arjun warily. "What brings the slum rat?" Sanjay asked, lighting a beedi. Arjun straightened. "VedaCorp's after me. I need protection—and a job." Sanjay's laugh was rough. "Protection costs five hundred. Job's scavenging—metal scraps, fifty rupees a load. Deal?"
Arjun nodded, the price a gut punch to his tin box. "Deal." Sanjay smirked. "Bring Vikram and the girl. We start tonight." Back at the shack, Arjun explained the plan. Vikram groaned, "Scavenging? I'm no donkey, bhai!" Priya raised an eyebrow. "I'll map the routes. But five hundred? We're broke." Arjun forced a grin. "We'll earn it. For Meera."
That night, they joined Sanjay's crew, armed with sacks and gloves. The docks were a graveyard of rusted metal—ship parts, pipes, wires—glimmering under the moon. Vikram tripped over a beam, shouting, "Not my shirt, yaar!" but collected a load, earning fifty rupees. Priya hacked a shipping manifest, pinpointing valuable scrap, adding two hundred to the haul. Arjun scavenged tirelessly, his hands blistered, netting three hundred. By dawn, they'd earned five hundred fifty rupees, paying Sanjay's fee and pocketing fifty. The tin box rose to three hundred fifty, a fragile victory.
Meera's condition worsened, her fever spiking. Arjun sent Vikram with two hundred for medicine, leaving one hundred fifty. The medicine eased her cough, but the doctor warned, "Another dose tomorrow, or she's at risk." Rent and Chotu's fee loomed, another seven hundred needed. Arjun's head throbbed, the rupees a lifeline slipping through his fingers.
The next day, they expanded the scavenging hustle, setting up near Churchgate to repair scavenged metal into usable parts—rickshaw frames, stove grates—charging twenty rupees each. Vikram's juggling drew customers, earning a hundred rupees, but Raju's goons disrupted the setup, smashing a frame. Arjun confronted them, taking a punch to the shoulder, but Vikram tripped a goon, laughing, "Take that, scum!" A traffic cop fined them fifty rupees, dipping the tin to one hundred. Net gain: zero.
Priya arrived, her laptop buzzing. "VedaCorp's sweep is tonight. They've got a tip—someone sold us out." Arjun's gut twisted. "Who?" She shook her head. "Unknown. But they're targeting the shack." He cursed, the fifty rupee bounty a likely culprit. They moved Meera to Uncle Ramesh's stall, the old man grumbling, "More trouble, eh?" Arjun paid him fifty rupees for shelter, leaving fifty in the tin.
That night, the sweep came. VedaCorp agents stormed Dharavi, torches flaring, the scarred woman leading. Arjun, Vikram, and Priya hid in the warehouse, Sanjay's men providing cover. The agents torched a rival gang's stash, smoke billowing, but missed the shack. Sanjay smirked. "You owe me, rat. Next job's riskier—steal from VedaCorp's dockyard. Thousand rupees." Arjun nodded, the debt chaining him.
The dockyard heist was set for midnight. Priya hacked the security, Vikram distracted guards with a fake fight, and Arjun slipped in, grabbing crates of metal—estimated value two thousand. Footsteps echoed—the scarred woman appeared, baton raised. "Caught you!" Arjun dodged, the crate slipping, but Vikram tackled her, shouting, "Run, bhai!" Priya jammed the cameras, and they fled, the crate lost, hands empty.
Back at the shack, the tin held fifty rupees. Meera's medicine cost two hundred, forcing a borrow from Sanjay—two hundred at fifty percent interest, due in a week. The tin rose to fifty, debt at two hundred. Raju's cart rolled past, a thug throwing a bottle, shattering the cart's side, costing one hundred to fix, dipping the tin to negative fifty. VedaCorp's van reappeared, the scarred woman leaning out. "Your sister's next, boy. Give us the relics—or her."