The moon was a jagged silver blade hanging over the rural landscape as Arjun Singh Mohapatra stepped out of the "Mahua Haven." The alcohol was a roaring furnace in his gut, but his mind remained dangerously sharp, honed by years of training and a bitterness that no amount of liquor could drown.

"Bhai, suno na, aap iss halat mein drive karoge?" Nakul called out, stumbling slightly as he followed Arjun to the gravel lot. "Ruk jaao, saath mein chalte hain."