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INTERLUDE
🕑 Added 2024-12-20 18:09:57 +0000 UTCRanvesh Kapoor leaned over his workstation, the faint hum of machinery and soft beeping of instruments filling the seismic lab. The monitors displayed jagged lines, a frantic dance of activity that sent a chill down his spine. The tremor had been sharp, sudden, and deep—a signature that no natural earthquake could replicate.
“Tell me it’s just tectonic,” he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible over the low buzz of conversation among his colleagues. The lab was alive with movement, scientists rushing between terminals, their faces drawn tight with worry.
“Kapoor,” called out Sunita, one of his fellow researchers, from across the room. “The depth—ten kilometers. Epicenter’s near the Yamuna River.”
Ranvesh’s stomach sank. Ten kilometers. Too shallow for a major tectonic shift, too deep for surface-level industrial activity. It matched the patterns of something far worse, something he had prayed would never come to them.
In the West, they called it Behemoth, the first of the Endbringers. In India, they knew it as Prathama, a name spoken in hushed tones, laden with reverence and fear.
He swallowed hard, his mind racing. There was a rhythm to the Endbringers’ appearances, a cruel cadence that allowed for a semblance of preparation. Months, three to be exact, separated their attacks. Prathama breaking the pattern now was unthinkable.
It didn't make sense.
“Kapoor!” Sunita’s voice broke through his thoughts, sharper now. “The energy signature—it’s spiking. Heat anomalies reported near the epicenter.”
Ranvesh felt the air leave his lungs. Heat anomalies. The ground beneath Delhi was growing warmer, though there were no volcanoes for hundreds of miles. The instruments didn’t lie.
He stood abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. “We need confirmation,” he said, his voice steady despite the thoughts whirling in his mind. “Has the PRT been alerted?”
Sunita nodded, her fingers flying over her keyboard. “Already sent the data. But Kapoor… if it is it…”
She didn’t finish the thought, but she didn’t need to. Ranvesh knew what she meant. If Prathama had appeared, the devastation would be unimaginable. Delhi was one of the most densely populated cities in the world. Millions of lives hung in the balance.
He reached for the phone on his desk, dialing a number he hoped he’d never need to call. The line connected almost immediately.
“This is Dr. Kapoor from the Indian Seismology Institute,” he said quickly. “We’ve detected anomalous seismic activity near the Yamuna River. Depth of ten kilometers, with corresponding heat signatures. I’m requesting immediate analysis and confirmation from satellite surveillance.”
The voice on the other end was calm, professional, but the tension was unmistakable. “Understood, Dr. Kapoor. We’ll divert resources to monitor the situation. Stay on the line for updates.”
Ranvesh hung up, his heart pounding. He turned back to his team. “Keep monitoring for aftershocks or additional anomalies. I want real-time updates every minute.”
As the room buzzed with activity, Ranvesh stepped away, his mind churning. He thought of his family—his wife, his daughter—both at home in a city that might soon become a battlefield. He thought of the pictures of the aftermath he saw online, of regions rendered into a radioactive, uninhabitable, magma-ridden wasteland over the course of a few hours.
And he thought of the heroes. The capes. Would they be enough, if it came to it? The stories from the West spoke of Superman—a man who had stood against Leviathan and not just lived, but won. Could he stand against Prathama, too?
Ranvesh shook his head. It was too soon to think like that. They didn’t know for sure yet. It could still be a natural tremor, an anomaly of tectonic activity.
But deep down, he knew better. The signs were all there.
As he turned back to his monitor, a notification flashed on his screen: Satellite Confirmation Pending.
Ranvesh Kapoor took a deep breath, steadying himself. The world might soon change again, and this time, Delhi would be at the centre of the storm.
