The sound of running footsteps filled the hallways of Fortune Palace. The stragglers who had yet to leave the private rooms were confused. What was going on?
Before the staff had time to react, policemen in full face masks kicked open the doors to the private rooms, their guns at the ready.
Light rushed into the dark rooms. The occupants had been in there the entire night. With the sudden bright light streaming in, they reflexively closed
their eyes; their brains were too
sluggish and dulled to understand what was going on.
These were no ordinary policemen: they were the Special Taskforce, equipped not only with guns but also with cameras. An officer immediately began snapping photos of everyone in the private room.
"Police! This is a raid! You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. Now put your hands on your head and squat in the
corner!"
"Don't move! Run and we'll shoot!"
A gunshot rang out. A man who had been about to bolt for the door immediately knelt down to the floor with his hands on his head, trembling with fear.
Arti Sinha, her mind in a complete haze, was still lying underneath a pile of men and had to be extracted from
them by a policewoman. She had only her blouse on and was totally naked from the waist below. Her underwear
nowhere to be seen.
"Group licentiousness!" [1] One policeman spat contemptuously. "Where's your ID?" "Oh? Been snorting drugs, too? What's this?" Another officer found some white powder on the sofa and on the round table in the room, and was sweeping the substance into a plastic evidence bag with his gloved hands.
"Crystal meth? Can't wait to put a foot in the grave, eh? Take them away!" Arti Sinha had just regained her
senses, and was now looking about in fear and bewilderment. Suddenly, she felt a breezy sensation below her waist. She looked down and
immediately screamed as she covered herself. Tears streaming down her face with the sudden shame and
distress she felt, she asked shrilly,
"Where's my skirt? Where is it? Let me put on my skirt!"
A policewoman in a full face mask looked around and found a pile of torn rags that looked like it could have been a miniskirt once. She picked them up with her baton and showed them to Arti Sinha. "Is this your skirt?"
Arti grabbed the rags and covered her lower body with them. She stammered out, "W-w-what's going on? I want to
see my lawyer!"
"You'll see your lawyer alright-when they post your bail at the station." With that, the policewoman ordered everyone to stand in a line, hands on the shoulders of the person in front of them. They were then marched out, greeting the day with stunned and disheveled appearances.
Arti's cousin was completely unconscious, drunk out of his mind. There wasn't a single shred of clothing on him, not even his underwear. He was the only one who had to be
carried out on a stretcher because the policemen couldn't get him to stand on his own two feet.
By the time the riot police marched the pathetic group out of the building, a crowd of curious spectators had already formed outside. Some of the people in the crowd, upon seeing that some of the women in the group were only half-dressed, immediately
whipped out their phones and snapped photos. One of the nosier gawkers was overly excited and had called the news
hotline when the heavily armed
policemen first stormed the building. Thanks to him, all the TV stations, internet self-media, and national newspapers already had their
reporters and crew on stand-by. Passerby who enjoyed micro-blogging
and sharing news on Weibo also rushed over, eager to be the first to cover the latest developments.
On that morning, nobody paid any attention to the morning news, the empire's official Weibo, or even the top influencer accounts in C City. The raid conducted by the C City Special
Taskforce had effectively hijacked everyone's newsfeed.
The internet was swarming with the events at the Fortune Palace. Netizens were quick to mash the 'like' button on photos of the Special Taskforce, leaving comments such as "OMG!"
and "So cool!," but they were also just as quick to drool over the photos of those who had been arrested.
One of the photos that made its way to the online headlines was of Arti Sinha, her eyes vacant and her buttocks as bare as the day she was born. As worn out as she was, she had the best figure out of the bunch, so naturally her photo attracted the most attention and comments. The photo ensured that Arti was already viral before even setting foot in the police station.
Although her half-naked photos were quickly taken down from most websites, the photos just as quickly turned up on the "Hot Right Now" section of certain private websites.
Soon enough, her name began to appear on the trending lists: "#Arti Sinha: C City Fortune Palace's half-naked student druggie." She had become a true "internet celebrity."
By this time the main entrance to the Fortune Palace building had taken on an almost festive-like atmosphere. An
inconspicuous gray car was parked on the street nearby.
Inside the car, all was silent. Sidharth's face betrayed no emotion. His
expression changed only when Deepak Rathi, who was sitting up front, handed over the phone he had been fiddling with and said, "Sir, look, Miss Sinha got her wish. She's an internet
celebrity now."
Both Rohit and Harsh were dying of curiosity, but they kept silent. They did not dare ask what was going on. Sidharth and Deepak were the only ones who knew. Deepak had already thoroughly investigated what Arti had said and done in the last 24 hours. His
extensive methods had yielded
excellent results, and had uncovered a dangerous plot: Arti's ploy to sabotage
Shehnaaz. It was pointless to ask how he had managed to access the information. He guarded his methods zealously.
Shehnaaz would have suffered a terrible fate, one that was a hundred times worse than Arti's, had it not been for Shehnaaz's quick thinking and the fact that her body's unique response to the aphrodisiac has worked in her favor.
Nevertheless, she was still paying a heavy price.
Deepak shook his head and said a silent prayer for the Sinha family.
How had they managed to raise a vicious, silly, and ignorant girl like Arti? The Sinha's deserved their unlucky fate.
An eye for an eye-that was one of the mottos of the Imperial Military's Special Operations Forces.
It had, naturally, originated from Sidharth Shukla, the founder of the Special Ops.
The crowd outside gradually
dispersed. The traffic police made their appearance, and soon enough the vehicles on the road began to move.
"Start the car." Sidharth finally tore his eyes away from the building in front of him.
Harsh started the car, turned a corner, and drove back to the base. The whole commotion had started because someone had alerted the authorities to the illegal activities taking place in Fortune Palace. The C City police responded by sending the Special Taskforce to deal with it.
For the moment, the Imperial Military was seemingly uninvolved. Sidharth's division only concerned themselves with matters related to the 6th Military Region. Drugs developed by Oda Masao-the biomedicine
specialist under the employ of the Imperial Hospital of Japan-fell under their jurisdiction, as it was necessary to assess what kind of threat the drugs posed to the empire.
In other words, the Special Operations Forces could only take over the case if the Special Taskforce turned up something that was of interest to them in their interrogations.
Back at the base, Sidharth retreated to his office to deal with official paperwork for the establishment of the 6th Military Region. This was followed by a string of video
conferences with the higher ups in the military and in the Senate. By the time he returned to his quarters for dinner it was already dark.
On the table were four large pieces of medium-rare mignon steak, drizzled with a thick cheese gravy, Sidharth's
favorite. There was also a small bowl of mashed potatoes, another one with oyster bisque, and a large plate of Caesar salad. A bottle of red wine sat on the side.
Sandeep had just finished his dinner; he stacked his plates in the dinner basket for the orderlies to whisk away.
Sidharth stopped before him, and quickly looked in the direction of the bedroom. "How is Sana?"
"Still feverish. And still unconscious." Beads of sweat broke out on Sandeep's pudgy face.
The central air-conditioning in the house kept the rooms cool and comfortable year round-nevertheless, it was still possible to feel warm under the collar, for reasons entirely
unrelated to the temperature.
[1] Group licentiousness-defined as sex between three or more people-is an offense punishable by up to five years in prison in the PRC.
*
*
*
I hope you enjoy reading it.
Love you all.