[if this is the first time you have landed here, I strongly recommend, you check this out first]
Parshuram spread the 7 photos with a smooth moment of his hands into a semi-circle. He had crossed out the photo on his extreme left with a red marker. He picked up that photo and admired it, Dr. Nandakumar beamed back at him. It was an old photo, taken from his formative years in the DRDO.
He had marked him for his great hunt years ago. Along with many others. He put the photo back onto the table in its initial place. These were the 7 he had finally chosen. Out of the initial 130, these 7 had fulfilled their potential. These 7 had been marked. 10 years of research, preparation and thirst. Thirst for revenge, for redemption, for vengeance, for legacy. The Parshuram legacy had to live on. Like many before him, it had to live on through him.
Its continuation or rather its rebirth was already on its way. Nandakumar was the first, Batra will be the second, the other 5 will follow. All 7 of them will die for his cause.
He looked around the dimly lit room, the 20 Watt bulb right above the table just enough to cover the table itself. It was full of files painstakingly collected over the past 10 years. There was no bedding, no pillows, no chair either, just a water cooler on the far right corner. There was hardly any clear space on the floor, just piles of files. He knew exactly what file to pick up though. He might look scattered, but he had organized his information cleverly. Each stack was a person, person he had earmarked for greatness and then death. Some of them fell off his list, others became too big for their shoes. But the seven stack closest to him were the most special. He had collected them and watched them grow as his babies. He hadn’t felt attached to anything more in this life or the one he used to live before, the identity he used to have before.
His life before he became Parshuram. It seemed so long ago. When he couldn’t think anything beyond his wife and children. When making and saving money was his only function. When he couldn’t plan a day in advance. He had left all that when he had discovered the Parshuram legacy. He knew he had to take up the mantle. He knew he had to become Parshuram. And look at him, a plan that was set into motion 2 years ago, a legacy that transcended profit and loss, and his own vengeance against this unfair world.
Parshuram felt tired, thinking about the past, so he sat down on the floor, squatted. It didn’t matter now. His identity had changed, he was a different person now.
He wanted to think of the future now, of his plans, and of his clues. His clues, yes those always brought a smile to his face. The Parshurams had always left clues, challenges to be picked up by someone worthy. A game to keep things interesting. But Parshurams before him had been ahead of their time, their clues were lost on most simple one-dimenstional investigators. The ones who had almost never had the resources to fight the sheer amount of planning a Parshuram had put in. He felt it will be different this time. He was sure someone in this country had picked up a scent. If Nandakumar’s death was not enough. He was sure Batra’s death will leave nothing to doubt.
They will come for him, but he has prepared for that. They will not stop the Parshuram Legacy. It will continue, at least as long as he is alive. He could just taste the success now as he closed his eyes. Yes he never felt so happy in his earlier life. He liked this identity more.