WICKETS AND WIDGETS

The Swift One

The air seemed to grow colder as her words sank in. "It's a chilling thought," I admitted, the weight of the situation settling heavily on my shoulders.

Natasha's response was somber. "The truth is often darker than we'd like to believe," she remarked, her voice carrying a sense of resignation. "But in times like these, darkness is all around us."

I couldn't help but chuckle nervously. "You're really embracing the dark side today," I quipped, though the tension in my voice betrayed my attempt at levity.

I listened as she laughed softly, the sound carrying a hint of self-awareness. "You know, I often find myself going a bit overboard with things. It's like this ingrained habit from childhood, always striving to outshine someone, to be the best in every aspect. Whether it was impressing my family, excelling in academics, or just handling conversations, I always felt this pressure to go above and beyond."

"I understand," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady despite the growing unease. "Listen, I think my friend is waiting for me. Can we talk later?"

"Of course," she replied curtly, the tension palpable in her voice as well. The call ended, leaving me with a lingering sense of foreboding.

With a surge of determination coursing through me, I strode purposefully towards Aditya, sensing the weight of Kabir and Raghav's gazes on my back. Addressing them, I said, "Step out for a few minutes, both of you."

"But-" Raghav and Kabir started to protest simultaneously, only to be interrupted by my firm command, "Now!" They nodded in agreement and left the room, closing the door with a resounding thud.

I knelt before Aditya, his grin widening as he observed my approach. "Some alone time with good ol' me, huh, shortcake?" he remarked with a hint of amusement.

I maintained a composed expression, my voice firm and resolute as I demanded, "Tell me the woman's name."

"Why bother asking when you already know?" He smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "You're not here for answers; you're here for validation. But let me tell you, validation is for the weak. The strong know their truth without seeking it from others."

I stared back at him, unyielding. "Explain yourself."

Aditya's grin widened, a twisted amusement dancing in his eyes as he leaned in, his voice a sinister whisper, "You already know who she is. It's the one you do not wish to suspect, the orchestrator of chaos, the architect of destruction. She's been weaving this web from the beginning, and now you're caught in it."

I recoiled, disbelief and fear gripping my heart as I stumbled back. "No, it can't be. You're lying," I protested, my mind racing with the implications of his words.

Aditya's grin never faltered, his gaze piercing. "Believe what you want, but remember, the truth is often the most terrifying illusion of all."

"You're playing a dangerous game," I warned, my voice laced with venom.

Aditya chuckled darkly, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Oh, but isn't that what makes life thrilling?" He leaned closer, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Her name, my dear Aryan, sings the tune of 'A' thrice. It's a melody that echoes through the shadows."

My heart quickened at his cryptic insinuation. I met his gaze squarely, grappling with the mystery of how he seemed to possess knowledge about everyone and everything.

"I'm like a spider in this underworld web," he said casually, his tone tinged with a touch of eerie confidence. "Every move, every whisper, I catch them all. Not a king, mind you, but a jester who knows where to find the juiciest secrets. That's me, shortcake, fitting in everywhere with my little tricks."

I looked at him, frustration bubbling within me. "Cut it out," I said firmly, trying to push back against his unsettling words. "This isn't a scene from a mafia movie or some fantasy world. We're all just regular people here. You can't become the Joker or Loki or any other twisted character just by pretending. Those are fictional, but this," I gestured around the room, "this is real life. It's time to wake up and face reality, not get lost in fantasies and illusions."

He burst into laughter at my statement, regarding me with a mix of amusement and pity before he spoke. "You believe twisted individuals like them are only found in fiction, don't you? Let me enlighten you with a harsh truth, shortcake. People far more malevolent than them roam this world, and you coexist with such maniacs. Just because you haven't crossed paths with them doesn't mean they're not out there."

He interrupted me, pressing on with his words. "You're blind to the darker side of life because you choose to see only the brightness. But what about the shadows that accompany it? Not everyone enjoys a life of roses like you, shortcake. Some are born into a world of thorns, where light is just a distant concept and darkness reigns supreme. Some, like the woman you're searching for, get ensnared by it. Others, like your friend, manage to break free. And then there are those like me, who feel neither suited for the light nor the dark, trapped in between."

"You sure are a piece of work," I retorted, my voice tinged with disgust.

He shrugged indifferently. "So is everyone else out there in the world," he replied nonchalantly. "God's an artist, after all. Each of us is a unique creation, like strokes on a canvas. Just as an artist never paints the same picture twice, God doesn't repeat his designs either. That's what makes us all 'pieces of work,' so to speak."

"It's a pity that someone like you, a walking freak show, talks about God," I said flatly.

He raised his voice, a hint of warning in his tone. "Watch your words, shortcake. I may be a problem for you, your friends, and this world, but in the eyes of God, I am who I am. He knows me, my life, and for him, I am his creation, his child. He doesn't judge me like this world does. He sees beyond my flaws, looks for my good deeds. He's a father, after all. I have respect for Him. Bad guys in this world have issues with humans, not with deities."

"Okay," I relented, trying to maintain composure. "Let's be direct. This woman, the daughter of that man who sheltered Sana, her name is Natasha?"

"Natasha, yes, but that's just a front," he chuckled, mischief glinting in his eyes. "You're clueless about her real identity. I wonder if she'd make me disappear if I spilled her true name. It'd be a relief to exit this game once and for all; I'm weary of being the intermediary, my mind and body are worn out."

"Just spit it out," I demanded, frustration simmering.

He paused for a moment, his expression becoming grave as he stated, "In the underworld, she is referred to as Agastya, also known as the swift one."