Smiling Devil: Rage Chapter - 8

The scene shifted to the Vile Parle police station, where the usual commotion filled the air—people filing complaints and police officers questioning them. Cries and pleas echoed from a jail cell, hinting at third-degree torture. This time, the accused was Pravin.

Inside the jail cell, Prakash was beating Pravin ruthlessly, showing no mercy. In a loud voice, Prakash demanded, “Tell me you were behind Indu’s death, right? Admit it! You have nowhere to hide.” Pravin’s body was covered with red baton marks.

With each strike, his body convulsed in pain. Blood began oozing from some wounds, and Pravin shouted in a loud voice, “Sir, I didn’t kill Indu! I’m innocent!” Amid the cries and pleas filling the jail cell, Lakshmikant sat silently on a chair, observing. He suddenly stopped Prakash’s actions, saying, “Prakash, stop.”

Then he addressed Pravin, “I know your past, Pravin—your anger management issues and the things you’ve done that no one else knows about.” Pravin looked at Lakshmikant and responded in a low, trembling voice, “I’m innocent, sir. Please let me go.” His words fueled Lakshmikant’s anger.

He sprang from the chair and kicked Pravin in the chest. As he continued kicking, he shouted, “Do you think I’m a fool?” Prakash intervened, pulling Lakshmikant out of the jail cell.

Still seething, Lakshmikant said, “Let me go! I’ll make him talk!” Prakash responded, “Sir, don’t waste your energy on him. I’ll get the answers soon.” Lakshmikant calmed down and said, “I need him to tell the truth by this evening.” Prakash nodded and re-entered the jail cell.

Pravin slumped against the wall, bruised and bleeding. Prakash placed a chair in front of him, pulled a cigarette from his pocket, and lit it. He exhaled a cloud of smoke and said, “Pravin, this is your last chance. Admit you killed Indu out of vengeance, or I’ll make you regret ever being born.”

Pravin glared at him with an angry, defiant look, which only fueled Prakash’s ego. Prakash took the cigarette he was smoking and pressed it onto one of Pravin’s wounds. The burning sensation intensified the pain, causing Pravin to scream in agony, “Ahhh!”

Despite the torment, Pravin struggled to control his anger, aware he was in a police station. Prakash gave an evil smile and taunted, “What, you think you’re a big shot? Giving me that angry look? We know you killed the man who slapped you in the metro and that drunkard in the pub.”

Realizing they knew about his previous killings, Pravin decided it was better to stay silent and endure the pain. Inside the jail cell, Pravin endured third-degree torture at Prakash’s hands.

Meanwhile, Lakshmikant was reviewing footage from the café coffee shop, pausing and rewinding frame by frame. His eyes caught something significant, and he immediately called Sarfaraz into his cabin.

Sarfaraz entered Lakshmikant’s cabin. Lakshmikant ordered, “Listen, Sarfaraz, I need you to visit two places—not in your police uniform, discreetly, and no one should know. Keep me updated.”

He wrote down the locations and specific instructions on a piece of paper and handed it to Sarfaraz. Sarfaraz took the paper and left the station.

As time passed, Prakash intensified Pravin’s torture. He tied Pravin up, hung him upside down, and beat him with a baton. Pravin’s pain and rage grew, but he fought to keep his emotions in check.

Meanwhile, Vedant, Indu’s ex-boyfriend, entered the police station and approached Lakshmikant’s cabin. He asked, “Sir, you called me?”

Lakshmikant greeted Vedant with a wide smile, saying, “Yes, Vedant, take a seat.” Vedant sat down, and Lakshmikant asked, “I hope I didn’t disturb you?” Vedant replied, “No, sir.”

His face was still etched with sorrow. Noticing his expression, Lakshmikant asked, “Did you love her more than anything?” Vedant nodded silently. Lakshmikant said, “Alright, wait here. I’ll be back.” He left Vedant in the cabin and stepped outside.

A few moments later, Lakshmikant returned, accompanied by Pravin and Prakash. Prakash was supporting Pravin, who was limping and covered in wounds.

Pravin’s body bore cigarette burns, baton marks, and blood oozed from his hands, legs, and mouth. He was placed in a chair, visibly in pain. Vedant’s eyes showed no concern for Pravin’s condition.

Lakshmikant placed a glass of water and a painkiller tablet in front of Pravin. “Take this first,” he said. Pravin hesitated, eyeing the tablet warily. Lakshmikant reassured him, “It’s just a painkiller. It’ll help with the pain, nothing more.”

Pravin reluctantly took the painkiller and drank the water. Though the pain persisted, the water gave him a slight boost of strength. Lakshmikant leaned forward and said, “Prakash gave you quite a lesson, didn’t he?”

Pravin, his voice trembling, said, “Sir, how can you say I killed Indu? I loved her with all my heart. Even when she rejected me, I accepted it. She was doing what was right. If my Indu was right, why would I stand in her way?”

Vedant, sitting beside him, muttered, “My Indu?” Pravin, Lakshmikant, and Prakash turned to look at Vedant. At that moment, Lakshmikant’s phone buzzed with a message. He glanced at it and said, “I understand, Pravin, but everyone is a suspect, and you’re closely tied to her death.”

Pravin coughed, wincing in pain, and retorted, “If you have evidence, prove I’m the killer. But beating me? No IPC act gives you the authority to torture a suspect.” Prakash shouted, raising his fist, “How dare you raise your voice in front of sir?” Lakshmikant quickly intervened, “Prakash, stop.”

Lakshmikant turned to Pravin and said, “The person sitting next to you is Vedant, Indu’s ex-boyfriend. She rejected you because of him, didn’t she?” Vedant’s eyes widened in shock. Pravin glanced at Vedant and nodded.

Lakshmikant continued, “See, he’s right here. But the one who was waiting for him is gone. How tragic is that?”

Pravin’s voice cracked as he responded, “Sir, don’t twist the knife. We’re both devastated by her death, and yet you’re torturing me, accusing me of being the killer. Yes, she died the same night I proposed, but I swear I didn’t kill her. I would never harm my Indu just because she chose someone else or was waiting for the person she loved most. I only ever wanted to support her.”

Tears streamed down Pravin’s face as he broke down. Seeing this, Lakshmikant offered a glass of water and said gently, “Alright, Pravin, I believe you’re not the killer. I’m sorry for putting you through this. Don’t cry—it’ll only make your pain worse. Here, drink this.”

Pravin took the glass and drank slowly. Lakshmikant stood up, his tone shifting. “You didn’t kill Indu, Pravin. It was Vedant.” Pravin and Prakash stared at Vedant in shock. Vedant’s face turned pale, his expression skeptical. In a sudden burst, he kicked the table, causing Lakshmikant to stumble, then shoved Prakash aside and bolted toward the door.

Lakshmikant shouted, “Hey, close the door! Don’t let him escape!” The constable quickly slammed the door shut and tried to restrain Vedant. Other officers in the station surrounded him. Vedant, desperate, threw his full weight into one of the policemen, knocking him down. He sprinted to the rifle stand and grabbed a rifle.

Vedant swung the Ishapore 2A1 rifle, its 44.5-inch length and sturdy buttstock a dangerous threat. The police officers kept their distance, wary of being struck unconscious. Lakshmikant and Prakash arrived at the scene, but no one could approach Vedant safely.

Lakshmikant shouted, “Stay back! Vedant, you’re already a murderer. We have proof you were at the café coffee shop. You saw Pravin and Indu together and misjudged the situation. That night, if Indu went to the terrace, it had to be with someone close to her—none other than you. There’s no hiding now!” At that moment, a constable lunged to snatch the rifle, but Vedant swung it, striking him on the head.

The other officers rushed to aid their fallen colleague. As everyone’s attention turned to the injured constable, Pravin leapt from the group and grappled with Vedant, trying to wrest the rifle from his hands. The two struggled fiercely. Prakash moved to intervene, but a shot suddenly fired from the rifle, hitting the ceiling. Lakshmikant yelled, “Everyone, take cover! Stay back!” Police and bystanders scrambled for safety.

Lakshmikant pleaded, “Both of you, stop! You’re going to hurt omeone!” But Pravin and Vedant were beyond listening. Pravin, gripping the rifle, looked into Vedant’s eyes and said, “Vedant, I don’t believe the inspector. Tell me the truth—you didn’t kill Indu, right?”

Vedant, with a steady gaze, replied, “He’s telling the truth. I pushed her from the terrace.” Pravin froze, stunned, giving Vedant the upper hand.  Vedant shoved Pravin to the ground and pressed the rifle against his throat, making it hard for him to breathe.

Vedant snarled, “I came to meet her after landing a good job, finally settled, ready to rekindle our love. But when I saw her with you at the coffee shop, I broke. She was mine—she was supposed to be mine! So I decided to kill her. I called her to the terrace, and she came like a child, hugged me, saying she’d waited for me. I didn’t believe her. Her words felt like lies—how could she act like nothing happened between you two? So I pushed her off the terrace.”

Pravin, shocked, struggled under Vedant’s grip. Tears streamed down Vedant’s face as he continued, “I wanted to kill you too. I loved her truly, and that love has haunted me every day. Today, I’ll finish what I started.” He tightened the rifle against Pravin’s neck, choking him.

Struggling to breathe, Pravin mustered his strength and threw a heavy punch at Vedant’s nose, catching him off guard. Vedant stumbled, dazed by the force of the blow.

Pravin gasped for air, taking two or three deep breaths. His eyes burned with rage, his fury reaching a boiling point. All traces of goodness vanished, replaced by a vengeful fire. It was now a battle of devils.

Pravin grabbed a police baton lying nearby. He sprang to his feet, swung the baton, and struck Vedant’s body with a resounding smack. Vedant recoiled in pain, stunned, and swung the rifle in retaliation.

Pravin dodged the attack and delivered another powerful blow with the baton. As Vedant staggered, Pravin kicked him hard in the chest. Vedant collapsed to the ground, and Pravin seized the moment, pinning him down by sitting on his chest.

With unrelenting fury, he slammed the baton onto Vedant’s head, shouting, “Indu loved you—more than anything in this world!” He struck again and again, showing no mercy or restraint. Blood splattered across Vedant’s body with each brutal strike.

Vedant lay motionless, dead on the spot. Pravin had taken vengeance for Indu’s death. The officers and bystanders in the station watched in horror, unable to believe the gruesome scene unfolding before their eyes.

Outside, a crowd clamored, trying to force their way into the station. Inside, Pravin stood, a demon consumed by rage, gripping the blood-soaked baton. He roared, “Where are you, you bloody SI? Your death is in my hands now!”

Lakshmikant signaled Prakash to move. The two approached Pravin cautiously, keeping their distance. Lakshmikant tried to reason with him, “Pravin, we know about your two previous murders. And now, with Vedant, that makes three. Stop now, or you’ll be in deeper trouble.”

Pravin roared, “Make it five—you and this SI!” He swung the baton at Lakshmikant, who caught it mid-air. Pravin kicked him, sending Lakshmikant crashing to the floor, the baton slipping from his grasp.

Prakash lunged, landing a punch on Pravin’s wounded side. Pravin stumbled, pain flaring, but his rage burned hotter. He retaliated with a powerful punch, honed by years of hitting sandbags, knocking Prakash onto a nearby table.

Seizing the moment, Pravin grabbed Prakash’s neck, choking him. Other officers rushed to intervene, grabbing Pravin and pressing on his wounds. But Pravin, fueled by fury, ignored the pain.

He threw a backhanded punch, toppling several officers, then kicked others, sending them sprawling. Pravin sprinted to retrieve the bloodied baton and began swinging it mercilessly, striking each officer with brutal force. Like a predator attacking its prey, he showed no compassion, his rage snuffing out any trace of kindness.

Officers fell one by one, unable to rise under his relentless assault. He turned back to Prakash, pressing the baton against his throat, choking him with every ounce of strength. Prakash’s consciousness faded, his life slipping away.

As Pravin focused on his target, a gunshot rang out. A bullet tore through Pravin’s left shoulder, forcing him to collapse. Pravin turned, clutching his wound, and saw Lakshmikant standing with a gun.

Despite the pain, his rage drove him forward. Gripping the baton, he charged at Lakshmikant. Another shot echoed—BAM!—striking Pravin in the chest. He crumpled to the ground, lifeless, in the heart of the police station.

Lakshmikant slumped against the wall, overwhelmed, surveying the devastation. The station was a blood-soaked ruin—on one side, a jealous monster lay dead; on the other, a rage-filled monster, now lifeless.

The havoc had shattered the station, forcing Lakshmikant to confront his own recklessness. As he stood in stunned silence, the crowd outside finally broke through the station’s door and poured in.

Days later, at a quiet funeral site, Pravin’s body lay in a wooden coffin. Only four people attended: Abhinav, Father Joseph, Lakshmikant—holding a newspaper—and Prakash. No one else was present to bid farewell to Pravin.

The funeral proceeded solemnly, a final goodbye to Pravin as he left this world. Each face bore a mix of sadness and anger toward him. After the ceremony, Father Joseph approached Lakshmikant.

Before he could speak, Lakshmikant said, “I’m sorry, Father. The situation was dire, and I had to make a tough call to stop him. I know he was like a son to you.” Father Joseph replied, “I read about it in the newspaper. Is it true, what they wrote?”

Lakshmikant nodded. Father Joseph continued, “That foolish boy. I warned him to control his anger, but he never listened. It led him here. If he had heeded my words, he wouldn’t be in this coffin. I don’t blame you.”

Lakshmikant said, “If you ever need help, please contact me.” Father Joseph nodded and walked away. Abhinav then approached Lakshmikant, his eyes filled with sorrow and anger.

Lakshmikant, reading his expression, said, “Abhinav, you know what happened.” Abhinav replied, “How could he take on an entire police force in the station?” Lakshmikant shook his head. “That wasn’t your friend in that moment. The beast we saw was something else entirely.”

Abhinav sighed. “What can I say? It’s tragic for Indu. Both of them were monsters. Anyone who walked with her was doomed.” Lakshmikant nodded. “Yes, one consumed by jealousy, the other by rage. Yet both loved her deeply, but their inner beasts took over.” Abhinav nodded silently and left the funeral site.

Prakash turned to Lakshmikant. “I can’t believe it, sir. What kind of people we encountered in this case.” Lakshmikant replied, “There are more like them out there, Prakash. We’re not so different ourselves. It’s all about how we control our emotions.”

They began walking away from the site. Prakash nodded and said, “Let’s hope, sir, we don’t meet anyone like them again.”

As Lakshmikant and Prakash left for their duties, the scene shifted to another part of Mumbai. In a temple, a young man stood before a Shivling, hands raised in prayer. “Har Har Mahadev,” he said fervently. “Grant us strength, protect the world and its innocents. You are the destroyer of evil.”

From behind, Hari called out, “Aarav! We’re late for the office!” Aarav replied, “Yes, I’m coming!” and hurried out of the temple.