THE BLACK POISON
PART 2 — The Quiet Hunter
The old building had been empty for months.
No glass in the windows. No doors. Just floors of bare concrete, open to the cold night air. From the street below, it looked like any other abandoned building.
But tonight, it was not empty.
Nine men in black clothes were waiting on the fourth floor.
They had checked the whole building before coming here. Every room, every staircase, every floor. Nothing. No one.
So now they just waited.
"How much longer?" one of them said quietly. "We have been here for hours."
No one answered.
Their leader stood near the open window, looking out at the dark city. He was alert. Watching. Listening.
Then he heard something.
A very faint sound. High pitched. Almost like a small machine running somewhere nearby.
The men looked at each other.
"That's a drone," the leader said quietly.
He was right.
Just outside the window, a small drone was floating in the air. Steady. Silent. Its tiny camera was pointing directly at them.
Someone was watching them.
"Find the operator," the leader said immediately. "He has to be somewhere in this building. Go. Check every floor."
The men split up and ran to different floors.
The leader stayed back with two men. He picked up his phone to make a call.
Then a sharp sound came from above.
The phone flew out of his hand.
Before he could even react, someone dropped down from the floor above and landed right in front of him.
The leader attacked immediately.
He ended up on the floor before he knew what happened.
The stranger moved through the remaining men quickly. No big movements. No noise. Just fast, clean hits — and one by one, every man went down.
When the others came running back from the other floors, it was already over.
The leader was the last one standing.
Then he wasn't.
When he opened his eyes, he was in a small room.
Low ceiling. Dim light. His hands were tied to a chair.
A young man was sitting across from him, calm and relaxed, like he was just waiting for a friend to wake up.
"Who are you," the leader said. "Where am I. What do you want."
The young man smiled a little. "You just woke up and you already have four questions. Take a breath first."
A short silence.
"My name is Veer," he said simply. "I just need some information from you about your organisation. That's all."
He stood up and stretched.
"But we can talk later. I need to sleep. And you should rest too." He looked at the leader. "Get some rest, Armaan."
Armaan froze.
"How do you know my name."
"I did my research," Veer said, walking toward the door.
"You think capturing me changes anything?" Armaan said, his voice getting louder. "You think one person can stop our entire organisation?"
Veer stopped.
He turned and looked at Armaan with a small smile. Not angry. Not threatening. Just calm. And somehow that was worse.
"Stop your organisation?" Veer said quietly. He almost laughed. "That is not what I am here for."
"Then what are you doing here?"
Veer did not answer.
He pressed a small button near the door.
From a tiny hole in the ceiling, directly above Armaan's head, a single drop of cold water fell.
Then another.
One drop. Every second. Perfectly placed on the top of his head.
Armaan looked up, confused.
Veer opened the door.
"Two hours," he said. "Then we talk."
The door closed.
Armaan sat alone.
Drop. Drop. Drop.
At first it felt like nothing. Just cold water. He almost laughed at it.
But the drops kept coming. One per second. Always the same spot. Always cold.
After a while, it stopped feeling small.
In the next room, Veer sat in front of two laptops and a small screen.
A calm, slightly robotic voice came from the speakers.
"Sir. Do you think Armaan will last two hours?"
This was Max. Veer had built him — an AI that helped him with his work. Cameras, drones, data, analysis. Max could do things no normal person could do alone.
"Why, Max?" Veer said without looking up. "You don't think so?"
"The average person can only handle this method for about ninety minutes," Max said. "I checked."
"Armaan thinks he is tougher than average," Veer said. "Two hours is still not enough for someone like him."
"Should I keep watching him?"
"Yes please."
Veer opened a file and kept working.
Eighty minutes later, Max spoke again.
"Sir. It has been eighty minutes. Based on his movements and sounds, I think he is very close to his limit."
Veer looked up. "I told him two hours, Max."
"I know, sir. I am just telling you what I see."
"I built you to listen to me. Not to tell me things I already know."
A pause. "Understood, sir."
Ten minutes later, Veer got up and walked next door.
Armaan looked terrible.
His hair was wet and stuck to his forehead. His whole face was tight. His eyes were red. The drops were still falling — one per second, same spot, same cold feeling, over and over and over.
Veer looked at him for a moment.
"I thought you would last three hours," he said, pulling up a chair. "Honestly. You looked like the type."
Armaan said nothing.
"First forty minutes, this feels like nothing, right?" Veer said in a normal, friendly tone. "You must have thought I was joking." He leaned forward a little. "But it keeps going. Doesn't it."
Armaan stayed quiet. But his jaw was working hard.
Veer reached over and pressed the button. The drops stopped.
The silence felt huge.
Veer leaned back in his chair. "You are a small part of a large organisation. I already know that. I am not asking you to give up everyone. I just need a few honest answers. That is all."
He untied Armaan from the tight position and moved him to a normal chair, hands tied in front this time. Then he sat back down across from him and smiled.
Armaan had decided that Veer's smile was the most unsettling thing about him.
"Three questions," Veer said. "I ask each one only once. You answer honestly — we finish quickly. You don't answer—" he glanced up at the ceiling — "we go again. But longer."
He looked at the small timer on the wall.
"First question. The blasts that are being planned in the city — where are they supposed to happen?"
The timer started.
Armaan looked at the timer. Then at Veer. Then at the ceiling.
Then he spoke.
"Two locations," he said. His voice was rough. "But the last meeting got cancelled. So the blast might not even happen now. The plan may have already changed."
Veer studied his face for a long moment.
"Okay," he said. "Second question. Who gives the orders for these blasts? Who benefits from them?"
Armaan answered quickly. "I honestly do not know. We only get told where. Never who or why. I am telling you the truth."
Veer kept looking at him. Armaan did not look away.
"Fine," Veer said. "Last question. Tell me about the organisation. What do you know?"
Armaan took a slow breath.
"It is big," he said. "Much bigger than people think. Hundreds of people are connected to it. But most of us only know our own small part. We do not know the full picture." He paused. "The name of the organisation is Black Poison."
Veer said nothing. His face stayed completely neutral.
"There is drug smuggling," Armaan continued. "Spread across the whole region. But that is all I know. I only know my part."
Veer nodded slowly. He stood up, walked behind Armaan, and locked him back into the original position.
Armaan tensed immediately. "I answered. I answered all three questions."
"You did," Veer said calmly.
He walked to the door.
"Your second answer," he said without turning around. "I did not like it."
He pressed the button. The drops started again.
"That is not fair!" Armaan shouted. "I told you everything I know!"
The door closed.
Back in his room, Veer sat down in front of the screen.
Max spoke first. "Sir. I looked at both locations Armaan mentioned. Neither of them is a busy area. A blast there would not cause much damage."
Veer was quiet for a moment. "They already knew someone was coming after them," he said slowly. "If the meeting was cancelled, those locations are useless now. They will change the plan."
"Should we still go and check both places?" ,Max asked.
"Yes. We cannot take any chances." He pulled up a map on the screen. "I will go to the first location tomorrow morning. You keep your eye on the second one."
"Understood, sir."
Veer leaned back and stared at the ceiling.
Something about all of this felt off to him. The blasts. The smuggling. The way the organisation was built so that nobody knew more than their own small piece. It felt like it was designed that way — deliberately — to confuse anyone who tried to look too closely.
He kept that thought in his mind.
"Sir," Max said. "Based on the sounds from his room, Armaan is at his absolute limit now."
"Good," Veer said. "Let him sit a little longer."
He closed his eyes.
"Sir. You have not slept in twenty hours."
"I know, Max."
"I am just reporting."
"I know."
Let's see what we found their,
End of Chapter 2.