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🎬 Crime / Action movie - Khoon Ka Karz - Complete Blueprint for Writing a Movie Script & Screenplay

Likho Script August 01, 2025

Crime / action genre ka fresh movie / cinematic

1) Title

Khoon Ka Karz

2) Concept / Idea (Logline)

Mumbai ke underworld ka ek purana gangster apni beti ke qatl ka badla lene ke liye retirement tod kar wapas khel mein aata hai—par dheere-dheere khulasa hota hai ki qatil sirf ek rival gang nahi, balki poora political–corporate nexus hai jo shahar ko control karta hai.

3) Story Outline (5–7 lines)

  • Raghav Malik, 50s, ek kabhi-ka-darr-ka-naam, ab seedha aadmi, apni journalist beti Anaya ke saath rehta hai.
  • Anaya ek land scam expose karne wali hoti hai; “accident” mein uski maut ho jaati hai.
  • Raghav apne purane contacts activate karta hai; pata chalta hai ki Home Minister + corporate tycoon + rival don Sameer Qureshi ek alliance mein hain.
  • Raghav saboot jama karta hai, andar ke aadmi turn karta hai, aur ek cat-and-mouse shuru hota hai.
  • Railway yard climax: qatil girta hai, par Raghav ka asli nishana nexus ko duniya ke saamne laana hota hai.
  • Open-ended end: Raghav ka naam phir se andheron mein ghoomta hai—par iss baar wajah badla ke saath nyay bhi hai.

4) One-Line Story

Ek retired don apni beti ke qatl ke peeche छिपे political–corporate–underworld nexus ko बेनकाब karne ke liye Mumbai ke andheron mein wapas utarta hai.

5) Characters (Bio Cards)

Raghav Malik — 52, ex-don; calm, methodical, code-driven. Weakness: guilt of past crimes. Skillset: surveillance jugaad, street intel, close-quarters combat. Casting: Manoj Bajpayee / Nawazuddin.
Anaya Malik — 26, investigative journalist; fearless, ethical. Triggering event: land-scam expose file. Casting: Wamiqa Gabbi / Sanya Malhotra.
Sameer Qureshi — 45, rival gangster; suave, pragmatic, Raghav ka purana dushman (15 saal pehle jail gaya tha). Casting: Pankaj Tripathi / Jaideep Ahlawat.
Home Minister (Deshmukh) — 58, populist face, ruthless core. Stakes: CM bid tied to land-bank project. Casting: Ashutosh Rana.
Ratan Khurana (Corporate Tycoon) — 62, real-estate magnate; white-collar mafioso. Casting: Anupam Kher (negative).
ACP Kabir Shekhawat — 38, grey; law vs ambition ke beech. Casting: Vijay Varma.
Shaukat “Kaka” — 60, Raghav ka purana armourer–fixer; loyalty personified.
Meera — 30, Anaya ki newsroom friend; leak conduit & conscience.

6) Plot Structure (3 Acts)

Act I (Setup | 30 min)

  • Domestic calm → newsroom pressure. Anaya ka sting near-complete. Car “accident.” Raghav doubt → post-mortem anomalies → retirement broken.

Act II (Confrontation | 60 min)

  • Intel web: burner phones, chawl informants, port-yard cameras.
  • Midpoint: proof of alliance (Minister–Tycoon–Sameer). Raghav ki raid ek godown par; narrow escape; ACP Kabir warns/tempts.
  • Low point: Meera kidnapped, Anaya ki hard drive stolen; Raghav framed in a shootout.

Act III (Resolution | 30 min)

  • Raghav flips Minister’s PA via family leverage. Yard-climax: brutal CQC; qatil down.
  • Live drop: evidence to multiple newsrooms + encrypted cloud.
  • Aftermath: Minister resigns? Not yet. Market jitters. Raghav vanishes—city phir se uska naam fुसफुसाती hai.

7) Script (Screenplay Format – Sample Key Scenes)

INT. MALIK HOUSE – NIGHT
Soft yellow light. Raghav chai banata hai. Anaya laptop par files lock kar rahi hai.
ANAYA
Papa, kal subah press meet. Agar sab sahi raha toh… bada dhamaka.
RAGHAV
(dheere) Dhamake ke baad dhool sabse zyada aankhon ko lagti hai. Sambhal ke.
Beat. Unspoken fear.

EXT. EASTERN FREEWAY – NIGHT (LATER)
Anaya ki car ko ek black SUV tail karti hai. Camera handheld, realistic.
CUT TO: Headlights flare. Impact.

INT. MORGUE – NIGHT
Raghav post-mortem report dekh raha hai.
RAGHAV
(fracture angles pe) Accident aise nahi hota. Yeh kaam aadat ka hai.
Eyes harden.

MONTAGE — RAGHAV RETURNS

  • Locker se antique revolver nahi—compact 9mm; knives taped in boot.
  • Kaka se homemade trackers, jammers.
  • Dharavi me informant ko 50,000 ka packet; teen numbers milte hain.

INT. WAREHOUSE – NIGHT (MIDPOINT RAID)
Raghav silent takedowns; GoPro-ish POV. Drive array milti hai—minister ke PA ka voice note.
PA (V.O.)
Sir, Khurana ji bol rahe the ki press wale ko “manage” kar liya.
Gunfire. Raghav bach kar nikalta hai—par ACP Kabir deewar pe.

ACP KABIR
Ye raasta chhod do, Malik. System ko system se hi lada jaata hai.
RAGHAV
System ko insaan chalata hai. Aur insaan darta bhi hai.

EXT. RAILWAY YARD – NIGHT (CLIMAX)
Rain. Engines hissing. Raghav vs Sameer—close, dirty, real.
SAMEER
Tu hamesha sochta tha tu nyay karta hai. Par tu bas… khauf hai.
RAGHAV
Aaj khauf ki zarurat hai.
Head-butt, grapple, rebar strike. Sameer down.

INT. NEWSROOMS/PHONES — INTERCUT
Encrypted links drop. Meera uploads. Feeds light up.

EXT. MUMBAI SKYLINE – DAWN
Sirens far away. Raghav shadows me ghul jaata hai.

8) Scene Breakdown (Major Beats)

  1. Home warmth → Anaya’s mission established.
  2. Crash & doubt.
  3. Morgue & resolve.
  4. Tools & allies montage.
  5. First intel win → Minister link hint.
  6. Midpoint raid → solid proof + near capture.
  7. Low point: ally taken, evidence lost, Raghav framed.
  8. PA flip via leverage.
  9. Yard showdown: qatil identified & killed.
  10. Multi-newsroom evidence blast.
  11. Aftermath: partial fallout, open end.

9) Dialogues, Subtext & Themes

  • Dialogue tone: clipped, street-real; Hindi with urban cadence.
  • Subtext: Nyay vs badla; “system” ki elastic morality; fatherhood as redemption.
  • Themes: Corruption’s food chain; truth needs risk; legacy vs reinvention.

Sample Dialogue Snippets
KAKA: “Bandook se pehle akal ka safety off kar.”
ANAYA: “File ke peeche log nahi—riwaz chhupa hai.”
KABIR: “Sach ko haath lagao, to naukri haath se jaati hai.”

10) Treatment / Synopsis (1.5 pages → compressed)

Raghav Malik, ek khauf ka naam, ab ek shant zindagi jee raha hai. Beti Anaya, ek fearless journalist, land-bank scam expose karne wali hai jisme bastiyon ko ujaad kar coastal development ka game chal raha hai. “Accident” mein Anaya chali jaati hai. Raghav police narrative pe bharosa nahi karta. Woh apne purane network ko activate karta hai—chawl lookouts, port loaders, telco spoofers. Evidence Raghav ko Minister Deshmukh, tycoon Khurana, aur rival Sameer ke beech ek pact tak le jaata hai. Midpoint pe Raghav ko solid audio–financial trail milta hai, par woh framed ho jaata hai. ACP Kabir, jo grey hai, Raghav ko rokna bhi chahta hai aur istemal bhi. Raghav Minister ke PA ko family safety ke badle flip karta hai, jis se schedule, cash trail, aur “accident unit” ka naam milta hai. Climax railway yard pe—Raghav qatil ko gira deta hai. Evidence ek saath kai newsrooms ko bheja jaata hai—ek newsroom ko khareed bhi liya gaya tha, isliye multi-drop. Fallout: public outrage; Minister cornered but not finished. Raghav vanish. Open end.

11) Storyboard / Shot Division (Key Sequences)

Crash Sequence

  • Shot 1: Interior car CU on Anaya’s eyes in rear-view (anxiety).
  • Shot 2: Overhead drone of freeway—SUV enters frame.
  • Shot 3: Side-mirror insert: black grille fills mirror.
  • Shot 4: Impact handheld inside cabin (no slow-mo).
  • Shot 5: Airbag bloom → cut to black.

Warehouse Raid

  • Shot 1: Wide of dark aisles; sodium lamps flicker.
  • Shot 2: Glidecam behind Raghav; breath audible.
  • Shot 3: Knife tap—light kill; server rack LEDs.
  • Shot 4: Over-the-shoulder on screen: folder “L-Parcel/MinCab/PA.”
  • Shot 5: Exit scramble; silhouette of ACP in doorway.

Railway Yard Climax

  • Shot 1: Telephoto through heat haze; engines hum.
  • Shot 2: Boots splash in puddle; rebar picked up.
  • Shot 3: Tight CQC—elbows, clinch, knee strikes.
  • Shot 4: Train horn drowns final blow.
  • Shot 5: Wide: rain cuts across sodium light; body motionless.

12) Dialogue Drafts & Revisions (Mini Set)

Draft A (hard-boiled):
RAGHAV: “Qanoon ki speed kam hai, par main rukta nahi.”
Revise (less filmi, more real):
RAGHAV: “Court pahunchne mein waqt lagega. Mere paas nahi hai.”

Draft A (villain):
SAMEER: “Main shahar hoon.”
Revise:
SAMEER: “Is shehar ka kaam saaf karna hai—log nahi, line.”

13) Scene Pacing & Runtime (Approx.)

  • Act I: 30 min (8 scenes; avg 3–4 min, crash 2 min).
  • Act II: 60 min (12–14 scenes; raids 5–6 min; low-point 7 min).
  • Act III: 30 min (6 scenes; climax 10–12 min; epilogue 3 min).
    Total: ~120 min.

14) Character Arcs

  • Raghav: From withdrawn father → relentless seeker → principled vigilante; learns to aim beyond revenge to systemic exposure.
  • ACP Kabir: From ambitious obstruction → conflicted insider → reluctant ally (quiet leak at end).
  • Sameer: Old-school don → corporate-aligned enforcer → relic crushed by new rules.
  • Anaya (in memory/flashbacks): Raghav ki moral compass.

15) World-Building & Research

  • Locations: Dharavi lanes, port godowns, BKC glass towers, railway yard, newsroom, morgue, chawl terrace.
  • Research: Mumbai land-acquisition processes, benami routes, call-data mapping, media legal risks, ACP hierarchy & SOPs, train-yard layout/safety.
  • Tech: Cheap RF trackers, Faraday pouch, encrypted multi-drop links, body-worn audio.

16) Tone & Genre Consistency

  • Gritty, grounded; handheld realism; no stylized slo-mo.
  • Sound: dholak-tasha textures over minimal bass drones.
  • Palette: sodium yellows, monsoon blues, concrete greys.
  • Violence: brief, impactful, consequence-driven.

17) Mini Checklist Before Writing

  • Protagonist need > want: Revenge → Truth exposure.
  • Clear mid-point reversal (proof + framing).
  • Stakes escalate each sequence (personal → public).
  • Antagonist power shown via system, not monologues.
  • Each scene goal/obstacle/outcome defined.
  • Locations serve plot (movement across Mumbai).
  • Action readable (beats, geography clear).
  • Dialogues subtext-heavy, lines short.
  • Evidence chain believable, multi-newsroom drop.
  • Open-ended but emotionally complete.

Khoon Ka Karz – Screenplay

Act I (~30 pages)

FADE IN:

INT. MALIK HOUSE – KITCHEN – NIGHT

Dim yellow bulb. A kettle whistles.
RAGHAV MALIK (52), lean, worn, yet sharp-eyed, crushes ginger for chai. His hands: scarred knuckles, steady as stone.

Across the dining table, ANAYA MALIK (26), investigative journalist, works on her laptop. Files encrypting.

ANAYA
Kal subah press meet. Agar sab sahi gaya… dhamaka hoga.

RAGHAV
(smiles faintly)
Dhamake ke baad dhool sabse zyada aankhon ko lagti hai.
Sambhal ke.

She shrugs — fearless. He studies her — protective.

INT. NEWSROOM – DAY

Noisy, messy. Reporters shout. TVs blare breaking news.

Anaya briefs her friend MEERA (30s).

ANAYA
Land records mein fraud hai. Coastal project ke peeche
Minister aur Khurana ka haath. Proof hard drive mein hai.

MEERA
Anaya… yeh log mazaak nahi karte.

ANAYA
Main bhi nahi.

EXT. MUMBAI STREETS – EVENING

Raghav shops for vegetables. A normal life.
Vendors greet him respectfully — unaware of his past.

He pauses at a paan stall. The stall-owner lowers his eyes — fear mixed with respect. Old shadows linger.

INT. HOME MINISTER’S BUNGALOW – NIGHT

A closed-door meeting.

HOME MINISTER DESHMUKH (58), ruthless politician, sits with RATAN KHURANA (62), corporate tycoon.

On the side, SAMEER QURESHI (45), suave gangster, listens.

DESHMUKH
Aapki beti… bahut tez hai. Kal ka expose hamare liye khatra hai.

KHURANA
Accidents happen. Sahi waqt pe, sahi jagah pe.

Sameer smirks.

EXT. EASTERN FREEWAY – NIGHT

Anaya drives. Phone buzzes — “MEERA calling.” She ignores, focused.

A BLACK SUV tails her. Creeps closer.
Mirror shot: grille filling her rearview.

RAM! The SUV smashes her car.
She swerves, panics. Second RAM.
Her car spins, hits divider.

Airbag. Silence. Screen fades to black.

INT. MORGUE – NIGHT

Cold tiles. Raghav stares at Anaya’s covered body.
Doctor hands him report.

DOCTOR
Accident, sir. Head trauma.

Raghav scans report. Notes fracture angles.

RAGHAV
Accident aise nahi hota. Yeh aadat ka kaam hai.

Resolve hardens.

EXT. FUNERAL GHAT – DAY

Muted drums. Few relatives.
Raghav alone, watching flames rise.

Close-up: his face — grief transforming into steel.

INT. MALIK HOUSE – NIGHT

Raghav unlocks a trunk.
Inside: old revolver, burner phones, knives, passports.

He touches each like old friends.

INT. GARAGE (KAKA’S DEN) – NIGHT

Rusty tools. SHAUKAT “KAKA” (60s), loyal fixer, greets Raghav.

KAKA
Socha tha tumne khel chhod diya.

RAGHAV
Khel kabhi khatam nahi hota. Bas intezaar karta hai.

Kaka hands him a bag: weapons, jammers, cash.

EXT. DHARAVI – DAY

Raghav walks through narrow lanes. Whispers follow.
He meets an old contact — Informer.

Cash slips hands. A number, scribbled.

INFORMER
Accident nahi tha. “Black Scorpio gang” ka kaam hai.
Par asli malik… upar tak hai.

INT. POLICE STATION – NIGHT

ACP KABIR SHEKHAWAT (38), sharp, ambitious, reviews accident case files.

He notes irregularities — then closes the folder, conflicted.

INT. MALIK HOUSE – NIGHT

Raghav tapes knives under tables, fixes CCTV.
His house becomes a fortress.

He pins Anaya’s photo on wall. A silent vow.

MONTAGE – RAGHAV RETURNS

·         Calls from burner phones.

·         Black-market arms deal.

·         Shadowing politician’s convoy.

·         Sleepless nights, reading files.

EXT. PORT WAREHOUSE – NIGHT

Raghav surveils from distance. SUV parked inside.
Men load crates.
He takes photos, records.

INT. MINISTER’S OFFICE – NIGHT

Deshmukh receives a call.

DESHMUKH
Woh aadmi wapas aaya hai. Malik.

Fear flickers, even in his powerful eyes.

END OF ACT I (~30 pages)

👉 This Act I covers:

·         Raghav & Anaya’s bond

·         The “accident”

·         Funeral & resolve

·         Gathering tools & allies

·         First clues linking accident to bigger nexus

Khoon Ka Karz — Screenplay

Act II (~60 pages text draft in industry style)

Note: This is formatted as screenplay text you can paste into Final Draft/Celtx/WriterDuet. When set in Courier 12pt, it expands to ~60 pages.

FADE IN:

EXT. MUMBAI LOCAL – PLATFORM 3 – DAWN

Monsoon mist. Vendors shout. A LOCAL TRAIN rumbles in.
RAGHAV blends with crowds, cap low, eyes scanning. A PHONE BUZZ (burner).

VOICE (FILTERED, MALE)
(whisper) “Black Scorpio” ke log port ke godown se nikalte hain roz raat. Number plate clone hai. Ek gaadi raat 2:15 pe Byculla bridge cross karti hai.

Call drops. Raghav’s jaw sets.

INT. MALIK HOUSE – LIVING ROOM – MORNING

A city map on wall. Pins, yarn, scribbles: DESHMUKH, KHURANA, SAMEER.
Anaya’s photo at the center.

KAKA sets down a metal case: RF tracker, mini-drones, Faraday pouch.

KAKA
Battery aadhe ghante ki. Paani se dur rakhna.

RAGHAV
(eyes on Anaya’s photo)
Paani se dushmani ab shehar ne rakhi hai.

EXT. BYCULLA FLYOVER – NIGHT

Rain hammers asphalt. Raghav crouches behind a pillar, MINI-DRONE lifts, whirs into the dark.

POV DRONE: A BLACK SCORPIO glides through. Camera locks on — number plate flickers (spoof). Inside: TWO MEN, masked.

RAGHAV (V.O.)
(steady) Plate clone. Kaam professional.

The drone tracks the Scorpio to—

EXT. TOOL GODOWN – SEWRI – NIGHT

Sodium lamps flicker. Scorpio noses into a shuttered yard. Gate slides.
The drone dips. A BUZZ — then static. Signal lost.

RAGHAV exhales, pockets controller, slips away into rain.

INT. CHEAP HOTEL – HALLWAY – NIGHT

A door opens. MEERA ushers Raghav in, nervous.

MEERA
Newsroom pe pressure hai. Legal notices, advertisers pull-out. Khurana group.
(rummages)
Anaya ne mujhe ek backup diya tha. Locker mein.
(holds a KEYCARD)
St. Martin Business Center. Basement lockers.

RAGHAV
Aaj raat chalega.

Meera’s hand trembles. He notices.

RAGHAV (CONT’D)
Dar ko aadat banao. Phir woh kaam karega.

She half-smiles despite herself.

EXT. ST. MARTIN BUSINESS CENTER – BASEMENT ENTRY – NIGHT

CCTV-eye POV: Raghav and Meera in hoodies. Down a ramp.
Sign: LOCKERS.

INT. LOCKER ROOM – CONTINUOUS

Metal doors. A HUM of servers nearby. Meera slides KEYCARD. Green LED.

She pulls a small rugged SSD from the locker, sealed in shockproof foam.

MEERA
Anaya ne bola tha—
(whispers)
“agar main laut ke na aaoon, isse teen jagah bhejna.”

RAGHAV
Teen jagah nahi. Das jagah.

They turn. A SHADOW at the end — SNAPSHOT FLASH. A PHONE CAMERA. The shadow flees.

MEERA
(whisper scream) Shit!

Raghav is already moving—

INT. BASEMENT CORRIDOR – NIGHT

The Shadow (YOUNG SPOTTER) darts up a stairwell. Raghav follows, lithe, efficient.

A SCUFFLE on the landing: quick elbow, forearm trap, knee to thigh. The phone clatters. Raghav pockets it.

RAGHAV
Kaun? Kisne bheja?

Spotter’s eyes: fear.
Raghav twists slightly — a quiet pop. Pain. He talks.

SPOTTER
“PA sahib” se message aata hai… Minister ke office se.

RAGHAV stills.

RAGHAV
Naam?

SPOTTER
(stammers)
Nahi pata… “Bhaiya” bolte hain sab.

Raghav releases just enough to keep him conscious.

RAGHAV
Chal.

He drags the spotter downstairs.

INT. LOCKER ROOM – MOMENTS LATER

Meera clutches the SSD. Raghav shoves the spotter into a chair, zip-ties hands.

MEERA
Humein nikalna chahiye.

RAGHAV
Haan. Pehle ye phone ki backup.

He jacks the spotter’s phone into a cloned-reader. Data scrolls: chat threads, a group labelled “Maintenance” (code for hits).
A recent pin location: “YARD/SHIFT”.

MEERA
Railway yard?

RAGHAV
(quiet)
Midpoint hamesha jagah badalta hai.

They leave, fast. The spotter writhes, tape over mouth.

EXT. DHOBI GHAT BRIDGE – PRE-DAWN

Two men wait by a railing. SAMEER QURESHI, immaculate even in damp air, talks softly to ACP KABIR SHEKHAWAT.

KABIR
Tum logon ko control mein rakhna mushkil ho raha hai.

SAMEER
Control aur comfort—ek saath nahi chalte, ACP sahab.
(a beat)
Malik kahan tak aaya?

KABIR
Zyada aage. Jitna chahiye usse zyada.

SAMEER
Tabhi toh shehar saaf rehta hai—jab purane kachre ko nikaal diya jaata hai.

Kabir studies him. Disgust? Curiosity? Both.

INT. MALIK HOUSE – MORNING

Raghav lays out three old NOKIAs, one smartphone. He duplicates the SSD to an encrypted thumb drive. Meera watches the process.

MEERA
Kaafi ho jayega?

RAGHAV
Nahi.
(points)
Ek copy cloud pe—multi-share links, delayed timers. Ek copy Kaka ke paas. Ek mere paas.

MEERA
Aur newsroom?

RAGHAV
Kuch newsrooms bech diye gaye hain. Do teen bache hain.

Meera nods, devastated but not surprised.

EXT. CROWDED MARKET – AFTERNOON

Festival crowd. Drums. Rain-slick tarpaulins.
Raghav and Meera move through the chaos. A tail? Yes. TWO MEN — “Maintenance” group.

MEERA
We’re not alone.

RAGHAV
Ho bhi nahi sakte.

He slows at a juice stall. Mirrors everywhere — polished steel jugs. He tracks the tails.

RAGHAV (CONT’D)
(soft)
Tez chal, seedhe mat dekhna.

They split — Meera cuts right into a spice lane. Tails follow Raghav.

He slips into—

INT. FABRIC GODOWN – CONTINUOUS

Bolts of cloth tower. He vanishes among aisles.
One Tail enters — knife low.
Raghav steps out behind him, clamps wrist, blade scrapes concrete. A short, ugly fight: forearm smash, knee to ribs, elbow to occipital. Tail crumples.

Second Tail barges in with a pistol—
Raghav yanks the first man’s body into line of fire. Shot goes into cloth.
Raghav launches — two-step burst, shoulder slam, pistol arm pinned, a headbutt, then disarm. Gun clacks away.
Raghav drives the man into a rack—metal groan. One punch too many. Silence.

He scoops the pistol, ejects magazine.
A TEXT vibrates on the second Tail’s phone: “YARD/SHIFT CONFIRM 23:40”.

Raghav pockets it, exits.

EXT. SPICE LANE – SAME

Meera blends with a WOMAN VENDOR, pretending to browse.
Raghav appears, subtle nod. They melt into the crowd, gone.

INT. SAMEER’S DEN – NIGHT

Clean, glass, quiet. Sameer reviews a table of confiscated phones.

HENCHMAN
Two down. Phones silent.

SAMEER
Malik ko doosron ki mohabbat rokni aati hai. Par apna gussa nahi.

He picks up a small photo in a frame: SAMEER younger, bruised, police mugshot.
He smiles at his past, sets the photo down.

EXT. COASTAL ROAD CONSTRUCTION FENCE – SUNSET

Media trucks. “Project of the Century” banners.
KHURANA hands over ceremonial hard hats to officials. Cameras click.

At the edge, ACP KABIR watches, bored. His PHONE BUZZES.
Unknown number. He ignores. Buzz again. He answers.

RAGHAV (V.O.)
Tumhare paas choice hai, Kabir.
Ya toh system tumhe kha jayega, ya tum system ko thoda sa sach khila do.

KABIR
Tum mujhe sikhaoge? Tum?

RAGHAV (V.O.)
Nahi. Bas yaad dilaunga—jis din tum log kehte ho, “fayda system ka,” us din tum khud system ho jaate ho.

Line clicks dead. Kabir breathes through irritation… or doubt.

INT. KAKA’S GARAGE – NIGHT

Kaka packs a water-resistant pouch. Raghav slides the thumb drive copy inside.

KAKA
Jab se wapas aaye ho, tumhari khamoshi aur tez ho gayi hai.

RAGHAV
Khamoshi tez ho jaaye, tab kaam seedha hota hai.

They share a burdened look: old wars, new fronts.

EXT. RAILWAY YARD – MIDNIGHT

Steam curls. Hissing engines. Pools of light in rain.
From afar: The BLACK SCORPIO idles. THREE MEN unload a crate.

Raghav low-crawls behind stacked sleepers. He checks watch: 23:38.

He slips a TILE-TRACKER magnetically under the Scorpio bumper.

A FIFTH MAN appears behind Raghav — crunch of gravel.
Raghav freezes, then pivots — palm strike, trap, twist — a swift takedown.
The man chokes. Raghav clamps his mouth, drags him into shadow.

RAGHAV (WHISPER)
Kis ke liye kaam?

MAN
(pauses)
“PA sahib.”
(beat)
Minister ka… secretary.

Raghav’s eyes narrow. He knocks the man out clean.

INT. RAILWAY YARD – CONTROL SHED – CONTINUOUS

A rusted office box. Raghav slips in.
He finds a desktop, monitors cycling through yard cameras. One camera frames a WAREHOUSE DOOR across tracks.

Sudden FLASH behind him — a MUZZLE.
Raghav slams the monitor edge backward into a gunman’s wrist; shot goes wide, sparks from cable.
He elbows, traps, and strangles the man with headphone wire. Brutal, efficient.

He scoops the gun, checks ammo, glances out to the warehouse door. A silhouette passes: SAMEER QURESHI.

Raghav stiffens. Memory overlays: Sameer younger, laughing in a police van, years ago.
Raghav’s knuckles whiten on the pistol.

EXT. RAILWAY YARD – WAREHOUSE DOOR – CONTINUOUS

Sameer pauses under an overhang. Lights a cigarette.

SAMEER
(to the dark)
Aaja, Malik. Baarish mein khoon kam nazar aata hai.

RAGHAV (O.S.)
Tabhi tum log baarish ke mausam mein zyada kaam karte ho.

Sameer smiles, turns slowly.

SAMEER
Maine tumhe yaad kiya. Roz nahi, par jab jab shehar saaf lagta tha.

RAGHAV
Shehar ko saaf karne ke liye tum jaise logon ko nali mein bhejna padta hai.

SAMEER
Aur tum jaise logon ko museum mein.

A tense beat. Distance: 12 meters. Guns low.

SAMEER (CONT’D)
Accident mein aadmi ka conscience nahi marna chahiye, Malik. Sirf uska plan.

RAGHAV
Conscience agar zinda ho toh plan badal jaata hai.

A whistle pierces rain. Lights sweep — RAILWAY POLICE JEEP approaches.
Sameer flicks cigarette, steps backward into shadow.

SAMEER
Game badal gaya.

He disappears between wagons. Raghav could chase — he doesn’t.
He fades away in opposite dark.

INT. MEERA’S HOTEL ROOM – LATE NIGHT

TV muted. Meera paces.
Door unlocks — ACP KABIR steps in with TWO CONSTABLES.

MEERA
Aap? Kaise—?

KABIR
Malik kahan hai?

MEERA
Mujhe nahi pata.

KABIR
Tum dono milkar “accident” ko murder bana rahe ho.
(leans)
Mujhe sach pasand hai. Bas voh sach jo file mein banta hai.

MEERA
(quiet steel)
Aur mujhe woh sach pasand hai jo zinda logon ko zinda rehne deta hai.

A stare. Kabir clocks the spare bag—wires, an RF pouch. He leaves, but not before—

KABIR
Kal subah tumhari security badha di jayegi. Itna achcha system hai na hamara.

He’s gone. Meera exhales — shaken.

EXT. CHAWL TERRACE – PRE-DAWN

Raghav meets A TEEN LOOKOUT who hands him a scribbled chit.

LOOKOUT
“Bhaiya” subah 10 baje Minister ke annexe pe aayega. Driver black cap.

RAGHAV
(acid-soft)
Bhaiya ke paas family hai?

LOOKOUT
Haan, ek behen. College mein.

Raghav pockets the chit, somewhere between grim and sad.

INT. MINISTER ANNEXE – SERVICE ENTRY – DAY

Rain slicks marble. Office staff bustle in.
A man in BLACK CAP — the PA — steps out to smoke, checks phone.

A CALL buzzes from a blocked number. He answers.

RAGHAV (V.O.)
Bhaiya. Tumhari behen—Arts college, second year.

PA freezes. Eyes dart.

RAGHAV (V.O.) (CONT’D)
Ghabrao mat. Main usko chhoonga nahi. Bas tumhe sach chhoona hai.

The PA flicks ash, palms sweating.

PA
Kaunsa… sach?

RAGHAV (V.O.)
Jo tum jaante ho. Jo tumne manage kiya. Jo tumne chupaya.

PA kills the call, shaken to the core.

INT. SAFE CAFE – FORT – AFTERNOON

Narrow, quiet. Meera sits with Raghav in a back booth.

MEERA
PA ko seedha blackmail?

RAGHAV
Pressure sirf tab bura lagta hai jab aadmi be-iman ho.
(beat)
Main uski family ko haath nahi lagaunga. Sirf dar ko uske saamne khada karunga.

Meera processes that—hard lines, soft intent.

MEERA
SSD ko bounce kiya?

RAGHAV
Do clouds pe. Teesra tumhare old editor ke paas jayega—jo ab freelance mein hai. Uska ghabraana faydemand hota hai.

They share a humorless smile.

EXT. CROWDED INTERSECTION – EVENING

Traffic honks. Raghav steps off a curb.
A SCOOTER whips by — a packet tossed at his feet: a BURNER phone and a note.

Note scribble: “Bridge. 20:00. Alone.”

He looks up — the scooter already vanished.

EXT. SEA LINK MAINTENANCE BRIDGE – NIGHT

Wind howls over dark water.
ACP KABIR stands at the rail, collar up. Raghav approaches, empty hands.

KABIR
Mujhe tumhari methods se nafrat hai.

RAGHAV
Mujhe tumhare reasons se.

KABIR
Tum sach ko apne tareeke se todte ho.

RAGHAV
Aur tum sach ko file ke size mein.

Kabir produces a small envelope. Slides it across concrete.

KABIR
Truck movement permits. Yard cameras ki internal routing. Name redacted. Tumhe itna hi milega.

RAGHAV watches him.

RAGHAV
Kyoon?

KABIR
(sincere, low)
Kyoonki kuch cheezein mujhe sone nahi deti.
(then, hard)
Par yaad rakh—agar tum kisi civilian ko nuksan pahunchaoge, main tumhe khatam kar dunga.

RAGHAV
Fair.

They part like enemies who understand each other too well.

INT. NEWSROOM – NIGHT

Meera slips into an empty edit bay. She plugs the SSD into a shielded dock.

On her screen:

·         Land parcel swaps

·         Shell companies

·         Audio memos: a voice—PA—saying: “Press wale ko manage kar liya.”

She hits UPLOAD to two dead-drop services. Progress bar crawls.

A SHADOW passes glass.

MEERA freezes. The bar ticks 14%… 21%…

The door HANDLE turns.
She yanks the SSD, kills the screen. The door opens — NEWS EDITOR (50s).

EDITOR
Raaton ko office kyoon? Legal ne kaha—tum logon se “Anaya case” door rakho.

Meera plays dumb, shrugs. The editor stares too long, leaves.

Meera exhales, rattled. She texts Raghav: “Upload partial. Eyes on me.”

EXT. DINGY BAR – LATE NIGHT

Sameer sits in a private booth. Two HENCHMEN flank a NERVOUS ACCOUNTANT.

ACCOUNTANT
Khurana sir ko paise aur log chahiye. Coastal road timeline—election tak.

SAMEER
Humein bhi waqt chahiye hota hai. Par shehar kabhi waqt nahi deta.

His phone buzzes. A PHOTO: Meera in newsroom, timestamped.
Sameer’s smile returns.

INT. MALIK HOUSE – NIGHT

Raghav studies the permits from Kabir’s envelope, cross-referencing dates.

Phone lights up: MEERA: “Upload partial. Eyes on me.”
Another ping: a different number — a LIVE VIDEO FEED request. He accepts.

A grainy CCTV stream: a corridor near Meera’s bay. Two men pause, then move on.

RAGHAV
(under breath)
Nikal jao wahan se.

He begins packing.

EXT. NEWSROOM PARKING – NIGHT

Meera hustles to her bike. Helmet on. She kicks it—engine coughs, then starts.

A VAN idles down the lane. Headlights off.
Doors slide: TWO MEN step out, casual-fast.

Meera guns it — the van swerves to block—
She darts between bumpers, mirror clips, rubber burns. She’s gone into traffic.

The men curse, jump back in. Van peels after her.

EXT. CITY STREETS – CONTINUOUS

A breathless chase through tight lanes. Meera rides hard, rain stinging.
The van looms, almost kissing her rear wheel.

She brakes hard, slips left into a TEMPLE COURTYARD — tiled, wet.
The van overshoots. She zigzags between scooters. A PRIEST shouts. Bells clang.

She blasts out the far side into—

EXT. UNDERPASS – CONTINUOUS

Dark, echoing. The van reappears, engine roar magnified.
Meera’s bike coughs—water in the plug. Speed sagging.

From the shadows: A FIGURE steps into lane — RAGHAV.
He hurls a chain STOP-STICK — a linked metal rope. It snakes under the van wheels.

The van JOLTS, fishtails, bashes concrete. Steam hisses.

Meera brakes, shakes, wide-eyed. Raghav pulls her behind a pillar.

MEERA
(shaking)
They know. Upload dekh liya.

RAGHAV
Ab woh tumhe nahi—proof ko chahenge.

Sirens in distance. Raghav shoves a new burner into her hand.

RAGHAV (CONT’D)
JD flyover ke neeche ek kulfi stall pe jao. “Shankar.” Usse bolo—meetha kum.

She nods, rides off. Raghav turns to the van—doors opening, MEN stumbling out.

Short, brutal melee. No flourishes. One man’s shoulder dislocates with a crunch.
Raghav fades into darkness as police lights bloom.

INT. HOME MINISTER’S PRIVATE STUDY – NIGHT

Deshmukh stares at a wall of framed photos. Political ascent.
KHURANA sips single malt, controlled.

DESHMUKH
Malik bahut ziddi nikla.

KHURANA
Zid ko ya toh kaam mein laga do… ya khatam.

DESHMUKH
Khatam karna aasan hai. Log sawal poochenge.
(beat)
Use guilty banaate hain.

KHURANA
(smiles thin)
Frame?

DESHMUKH
Hmm. Public ko kahaani chahiye. Hum de dete hain.

They clink glasses, a soft, terrible pact.

EXT. JD FLYOVER – KULFI STALL – LATE NIGHT

Meera pulls up, breathless.
The vendor, SHANKAR (50s), eyes her helmet visor.

MEERA
Meetha kum.

He nods, flips a lid, hands a kulfi.
Inside the paper wrapper: a SIM card and a tiny key with tag “T-17”.

SHANKAR
Seedha mat jaana. Thoda ghoom ke.

She nods — gratitude masked in fear.

INT. POLICE PRESS ROOM – MORNING

Flashbulbs. ACP KABIR at the podium.

KABIR
Iss hafte ki do alag-alag shootings mein ek aadmi ka footage mila hai.
Naam: Raghav Malik. Puraana record.
(eyes hard)
Public safety ke liye hum evidence jamaa kar rahe hain. Request—agar kisi ko is vyakti ke baare mein jaankari ho, police ko turant bataye.

A murmur. A journalist’s hand shoots up.

JOURNALIST
Sir, yeh wahi Malik jiska naam kabhi underworld mein…?

KABIR
(slices)
Press conference yahin tak.

He steps off. A CHIEF leans in.

CHIEF
Political heat. Tum samajh rahe ho na?

KABIR
(beat)
Haan.

But the hurt in his eyes lingers.

EXT. BACK ALLEY – AFTERNOON

Raghav watches a CHILD chalk-hop on wet concrete. A normal moment, stolen.

KAKA (O.S.)
Tumhare liye “safe house” tayyar hai. Dadar ke paas.

RAGHAV turns. Kaka stands with a grocery bag.

KAKA
Meera?

RAGHAV
Zinda. Dar bhi zinda.

They walk. Family in their silences.

INT. SAFE HOUSE – DADAR – EVENING

Bare room. A cot, a kettle, two chairs.
Raghav sets out: pistol, knife, one phone, one thumb drive. That’s it.

KAKA
Shahar mein log tumhe dhoondh rahe hain. Tum unhe yahan nahi laa sakte.

RAGHAV
Main yahan khud ko laa paya—yeh kaafi hai.

Kaka nods, leaves with a clasped hand on his shoulder.

EXT. PUBLIC GARDEN – DUSK

PA sits on a bench, jittery.
A small girl giggles nearby with bubbles. PA watches her, haunted.

A figure sits. RAGHAV.

PA
Maine kuch nahi kiya.

RAGHAV
Tumne sab kuch kiya. Aur kuch nahi bhi.

PA
Main sirf file bhejta hoon, messages. Orders. Mujhe nahi malum—accident ka…
(voice cracks)

RAGHAV
Maloom rehna nahi hota. Maloom karna hota hai.

He slides a photo: Meera chased by men.
Another: Scorpio at yard.
Another: chat logs “Maintenance.”

RAGHAV (CONT’D)
Bas ek baar sach suno, phir kahin mat aana.
(beat)
Khurana–Deshmukh–Sameer. Teenon ka ek project. Land bank. Displacement. Press ko “manage”.
Tumhara kaam — schedule, convoy, clean-up.

PA trembles. Tears in rage.

PA
Mere paas… ek drive hai. Boss ne mujhe diya. Failsafe.

Raghav’s eyes flicker—calm flame.

RAGHAV
Kal subah. St. Jude Church ke piche wali gali.
Akele.

He rises. The PA clutches air where answers should be.

INT. KHURANA’S PENTHOUSE – NIGHT

Glass walls. Rain lashes.
SAMEER and KHURANA over a projected street map. Red dots—dead drops.

KHURANA
Woh journalist—Meera—abhi tak kyoon zinda?

SAMEER
Kyoonki zinda log darr phailate hain. Murdon se blind spots bante hain.

KHURANA considers, amused-insulted.

SAMEER
Malik ko ab tum banaoge criminal. Hum nahi.
(gestures map)
Is lane par ek raid. “Anonymous tip.” Wahan se “terror finance” niklega.
Malik ka naya naam.

Khurana nods, appetite whetted.

INT. ST. JUDE BACK ALLEY – MORNING

Children play with paper boats in runoff.
PA hovers, clutching a small encrypted drive.

A VAN pulls up. Doors slide—MEN in plain clothes—POLICE? GOONS? Both?

PA freezes. He’s about to run when—

RAGHAV steps behind him, hand on shoulder, calming.

RAGHAV
Mere saath.

They merge into a moving vegetable cart, disappear behind it, cross the lane in cover.

The MEN scour the alley, confused. The cart turns a corner.

INT. TEMPLE STOREROOM – CONTINUOUS

Incense dust. Broken chairs.
Raghav checks for tails. None.

PA hands the drive. Shaking.

PA
Meri behen ko—

RAGHAV
Kuch nahi hoga.

He pockets the drive into a lead pouch.

Sudden THUD at the door. A metal wedge slips.
Raghav snaps to Plan B — he flips a shelf, blocks hinge-side.
The door shudders. Voices outside.

RAGHAV
Window.

He shoulders the window frame—it groans, then pops.
He pushes the PA through to the lane.
A GUNSHOT rips through wood. Splinters spit. Another shot.

Raghav ducks out last, lands in—

EXT. TEMPLE SIDE LANE – DAY

—directly in front of TWO MEN sprinting toward them.
Raghav shoves the PA behind a garbage skip, meets the first man with a fast clinch: palm to face, heel to shin, skull to temple — out.

Second man swings a pipe. Raghav takes it on forearm, grimaces, snatches pipe, one strike to collarbone. Crack.
He yanks the PA, merges into foot traffic.

Behind them — the storeroom door bursts. More men spill out.

EXT. CROWDED BUS STOP – CONTINUOUS

Buses cough diesel.
Raghav nudges the PA onto a bus. Slaps the side.

RAGHAV
(Nods: “Go.”)

PA’s eyes: wet gratitude, stunned fear. Bus lurches away, swallowing him.

Raghav turns to the street — A POLICE JEEP skids, doors fly—ACP KABIR emerges, gun drawn.

Time slows between the two men in rain.

KABIR
Bandook neeche.

RAGHAV
Apna bhi.

They hold, measured.
Screams—goons sprinting from the lane. Kabir turns, fires two controlled shots—knees, not kill. The men collapse.

He looks back—Raghav is gone, swallowed by a passing SCHOOL VAN and umbrellas.

Kabir holsters, furious with himself and everything.

INT. NEWSROOM – AFTERNOON

Meera’s desk is empty. EDITOR glares at an email: “URGENT LEGAL.”
He opens it — a legal threat from Khurana group; ad-pull warning.

He sighs, looks up at Meera’s mug. For a second, guilt flickers. He shuts the email.

INT. SAFE HOUSE – DUSK

Raghav sets the PA drive beside the SSD clone.
He boots a clean laptop, air-gapped.
Files appear: routing sheets, convoy rosters, misc audio.
One audio: a man’s laugh—SAMEER—then a line: “Press ko ghumane ke paise kaun laayega?”

Raghav’s eyes close. He copies, hashes, writes to a second set of drives.

Phone buzz: Unknown. He answers.

VOICE (MECHANICAL FILTER)
Achhi copies hain. Ab asli chahiye.

RAGHAV
Kis se baat kar raha hoon?

VOICE
Tumhare dushman se nahi. Tumhare shehar se.

Click. Dead line.

Raghav stares at the dead phone, the city roaring beyond the window.

EXT. DESERTED CINEMA – NIGHT

Posters peeling. Rain rattles tin awning.
Sameer stands in the lobby, looks at a decades-old action hero poster.

SAMEER
(faint)
Sabko apni film chahiye.

Footsteps. KHURANA arrives with an umbrella, immaculate.

KHURANA
Kal subah “tip” mil jayegi. Police raid. Malik pe case.

SAMEER
Aur phir?

KHURANA
Phir vote. Phir road. Phir shehar.
(smiles)
Phir naya villain.

Sameer half-laughs at that bitter truth.

EXT. OLD MILL COMPOUND – NIGHT

A “tip” goes out: Anonymous.
SWAT-LIKE POLICE storm in. Blinding torches.
An empty room… and a stash planted: cash bundles, a foreign pistol, a ledger with a fake “Malik” signature.

Cameras click. A TV CREW hovers.
A COMMISSIONER announces: “Underworld finance busted.”

Elsewhere, Raghav watches the news on a tea stall TV.
He sips, studies. Doesn’t flinch.

TEA STALL OWNER
Bade log ka naam kaise saaf hota hai?

RAGHAV
Kuch naam mitti mein mila kar.

He walks away.

INT. MEERA’S TEMP SAFE – NIGHT

A one-room flat. Meera checks locks thrice.
Phone vibrates: RAGHAV: “Don’t open for anyone except Kaka.”

BANG. BANG.
Meera flinches. Breathless silence.
Peep hole: nothing. She backs away.

Her phone lights again: Unknown AirDrop wants to share “Hi_Anaya.mov”
Her eyes sting. She declines, trembling.

Sudden CRACK — the back window shatters. A gloved hand slips a gas canister.

Meera coughs, stumbles. Door splinters — MEN flood in.

She claws for the SIM/key “T-17” … knocked away.
A burlap hood drops over her face. She CHOKES as they drag her out.

The phone falls, screen cracked—still recording a half frame of boots.

INT. MALIK HOUSE – NIGHT

Raghav’s burner vibrates: a 3-second video — black hood, muffled cries. Location tag: scrambled.

RAGHAV stills. Oceanic silence.
He puts on his jacket. Knife. Gun. Drives. Keys.
Last look at Anaya’s photo. He touches the glass.

RAGHAV
(whisper)
Is baar main der nahi karunga.

EXT. DOCKSIDE ROAD – MIDNIGHT

A convoy of TWO SUVs heads toward a dry dock warehouse.
Inside the first: MEERA, bound, hooded. A MAN records on phone.

MAN
Smile for the system.

He laughs to himself.

In the rearview: a bike headlight, distant, unwavering.

EXT. DRY DOCK WAREHOUSE – LATER

Floodlights. Rain.
Men haul Meera into the warehouse, dump her on a chair, chain ankles.
One man slaps her for fun. Another sets up a phone on a tripod.

GOON
Journalist. Bina mike ke kaise lagta hai?

They chuckle.

A guard outside smokes at the loading ramp. He looks at the rain—

—SILHOUETTE behind him. A hand clamps his mouth, drags him into dark.

INT. WAREHOUSE – CONTINUOUS

A aisle of crates. The group crowd Meera.
The tripod phone’s red REC dot glows.

A shadow moves along the top of crates. Another guard glances up—
TWANG — a thin industrial strap whips round his throat, yanks him up and over.
Footfalls. Panic.

GOON #2
Kaun hai be—?

RAGHAV drops between crates like a guillotine.
Fights are short and dirty: throat punches, limb-traps, elbows, headbutts.
He moves like someone who promised himself no flourish, only finish.

One man manages to grab Meera’s hair, knife to throat.

GOON (KNIFE)
Ruk! Ruk! Nahi to—

Raghav doesn’t bargain. He shoots the man’s thigh — precise, non-lethal.
Meera screams, then gasps air.

Sirens? No. That’s the ship horn in the dock—long, mournful.

RAGHAV cuts Meera loose. She sways.

MEERA
(horse whisper)
They want to frame you… again.

Lights FOOM to black. POWER CUT.
Emergency red kicks in — blinking, disorienting.

From the catwalk—SLOW CLAP.
SAMEER steps into the red gloom, applauding gently.

SAMEER
Romance wapas. Heroine bachi. Camera chal raha?

His men — the ones not groaning — bring up phones.

SAMEER (CONT’D)
Public ko kahaani chahiye, Malik.
Aur kahaani tab banti hai jab hero galat jagah pe sahi kaam kare.

Raghav puts Meera behind him, calm as a volcano.

RAGHAV
Kahaani tab banti hai jab truth record ho.

SAMEER
Tabhi toh. Aaj tum sach mano—
(beat, playful)
—ya sach tumhe.

SUDDEN GUNFIRE from a new angle — not Raghav — the side door bursts: POLICE flood in with shields.

ACP KABIR at front — the picture of legitimacy.

KABIR
Hands up! Down on the floor!

Chaos. Goons scatter. Sameer melts to the far stairs.

A POLICE CAM (body cam) catches:
—Raghav, gun up.
—Meera, pale, shaking.
—Crates labeled with fake foreign stamps.

KABIR sees the body cams angled to capture one angle. His mouth tightens.

Then—a planted voice from a loudspeaker: “Underworld exchange in progress”.

A COP turns toward Raghav—over-cranked seriousness—
Raghav sees the moment creeping toward a frame.

He lowers his gun. Hands spread.

RAGHAV
(quiet)
Meera ko bahar nikalo.

A beat. Kabir locks eyes with him.

KABIR
(Torn)
Aresst him.

Two cops move—Meera clutches Raghav.

MEERA
He saved me—!

A cop yanks her back.
Another cop reaches for Raghav’s wrists—

SAMEER (O.S.)
(soft taunt)
Museum time, Malik.

Raghav headbutts the cop, spins, shoves Meera toward exit, and runs deeper into maze aisles.

INT. WAREHOUSE MAZE – CONTINUOUS

Strobing red emergency lights.
Raghav twists through narrow aisles. Two cops per aisle pursue, shouting.

He ducks under a chain hoist, yanks the lever—
A pallet of sandbags drops, blocking a passage behind him.
He vaults a crate, slides under another. A cop’s hand snags his jacket—
Raghav knifes the sleeve seam, slips free, jacket left dangling.

He bursts to—

EXT. DRY DOCK – CONTINUOUS

Rain glaring under floodlamps.
SAMEER stands on a gantry crane arm above, leaning into spray.

SAMEER
(voice carries)
Upar aao, Malik. Ek last round.

Raghav climbs steel rungs, lungs burning, fury ice-cold.

EXT. GANTRY CRANE – CONTINUOUS

Wind shears. Below: police ants, flashing lights.
Raghav and Sameer circle on a narrow platform.

SAMEER
Tumne apna shehar kho diya jab tumne usse pyaar karna chhod diya.

RAGHAV
Aur tumne jab usse bech diya.

They CLASH. No balletic pose—just awful gravity.
Elbows, heel rakes, palm-heel to nose, knee checks.
Sameer is slick, veteran—Raghav is older but colder.

Sameer feints, grabs a rusty rebar, swings.
Raghav takes a graze to shoulder, staggers, grabs the rebar midway on next swing.
They struggle—metal shrieks against railing.

Below, Kabir looks up—body cams tilted the wrong way—recording only Malik.

Kabir’s jaw locks. Decision brewing.

Above, the rebar slips—
Sameer shoves Raghav toward the edge.
Raghav twists, arm-drag, momentum flips—
Sameer laughs breathlessly even as his boot skids off slick steel.

He dangles. One hand clamped. Rainwater pours over his face.

SAMEER
(soft)
Shehar ko villain chahiye, Malik.
Aaj bhi. Kal bhi.

Raghav grips the rail. He could kick the hand free. He doesn’t.
He looks down—cops, cameras, chaos.

RAGHAV
(scorching whisper)
Aaj kahaani ka villain system hoga.

Raghav wrenches the rebar, slams it into the CCTV dome on the crane.
Sparks. Camera dies. The moment is unrecorded.

He steps back. Sameer hauls himself up, gasping, surprised—and oddly amused.

SAMEER
Tum ab bhi insaan ho.

RAGHAV
Insaan ko insaan rakhna padta hai, varna kahaaniyan sirf qatl bani rehti hain.

Sirens crescendo. Cops clatter up the ladder.

Sameer slips away along a maintenance catwalk, vanishing like a rumor.

Raghav drops to the deck, bleeding shoulder seeping. He disappears into rain-shadow.

EXT. DOCK PERIMETER – MINUTES LATER

Meera wrapped in a blanket, oxygen mask.
Kabir checks on her—human, concerned.

KABIR
Tum theek ho?

She nods, eyes fierce.

MEERA
Woh… frame kar rahe hain. Aapko pata hai.

Kabir’s eyes flick to Commissioner giving TV byte: “Underworld kingpin Malik resurfaces.”

KABIR
(quiet oath)
Mujhe pata hai.

He steps away, phone out. Types a terse message:
“Lock body cams. Don’t release. Internal review.”
He hits send. His face is a war.

INT. SAFE HOUSE – LATE NIGHT

Raghav stitches his shoulder with a field kit.
He breathes through pain, calm like an old storm.

On table:
—PA drive,
—SSD clone,
—A list of trusted journalists (3 names only),
—A paper envelope: “FOR LATER.”

His phone vibrates. A video file received: Warehouse_External_Cam.mp4
Sender: unknown. He plays—
Angle shows cops entering… then a cut… then only Malik running.
It’s edited.

Raghav’s face doesn’t change. He writes two words on paper: “MULTI-DROP.”

He starts crafting a plan on the wall with string and pins:

1.      PA → schedule logs (done)

2.      Meera → upload partial (done)

3.      Kabir → leverage (uncertain)

4.      Minister + Tycoon → public ledger

His pen circles “Ledger.”
He pulls the fake ledger photo from the news screenshot—compares fonts, ink bleed.
A technician’s eye in a killer’s body.

RAGHAV
(whisper)
Jhooth seedha nahi hota.

He circles ink bleed and binding as mismatched.

EXT. CHURCH COURTYARD – DAWN

PA kneels at a candle rack. Shaking hands.
A figure sits beside him—KABIR.

KABIR
Tum logon ko lagta hai police har waqt andhi hoti hai?

PA flinches, doesn’t meet eyes.

KABIR (CONT’D)
Mujhe sab pata nahi. Par jitna pata hai, utna kaafi hai.
(leans)
Kal tum kahan the?

PA swallows. Kabir lets the silence work.

A phone buzz in Kabir’s pocket. He reads a message: “Commissioner: Release snippet to media?”
Kabir stares at it. Types: “WAIT.”

He pockets the phone.

KABIR (CONT’D)
Ghar jao. Behen ki fees bhar do.
(beat)
Aur agar tumhare saamne kabhi sach aajaye—usse mudna mat.

He rises, leaves PA trembling… and thinking.

INT. KHURANA BOARDROOM – MORNING

Executives, maps, timelines.
KHURANA and DESHMUKH orchestrate.

DESHMUKH
News ko do—we “commend police”, “condemn criminals.”
Bullet points. Har channel pe.

KHURANA
Aur market?

CFO
Positive. “Cleanup narrative” se investor confidence.

Deshmukh smiles. So easy when you own the world.

EXT. CITY ROOFTOPS – DAY

Raghav meets KAKA on a tarred roof.
They share tea from a flask. Mumbai sprawls, imperfect and invincible.

KAKA
Jab tak tum akela ladoge, yeh shehar apna hi lagta rahega.
(beat)
Par shehar logon ka hota hai.

RAGHAV
Logon ko sach chahiye. Sirf sach.

KAKA
Sach ko na… awaaz chahiye.

He hands over a printed list: stringers, freelancers, regional dailies—small papers that still print truth for survival.

Raghav nods, a plan knitting.

INT. RAGGED CYBER CAFE – AFTERNOON

Flickering tube lights. College kids game.
Raghav rents a booth, hoodie up.

He spins up three VMs, pushes:
—Redacted PA logs
—Audio of PA & Minister’s PA
—Sameer’s laugh
—Yard schedule
Encrypted. Timed. To multiple micro-outlets.

He schedules a cascade: if blocked, the next triggers.

A news ticker on muted TV calls him “Underworld Mastermind.”
He keeps typing.

EXT. WATERFRONT PROMENADE – SUNSET

Meera stands with a small paper bag: inside, the SIM and “T-17” key.
Raghav joins, slower today.

MEERA
Mujhe phir se target banayenge.

RAGHAV
Haan.
(beat)
Par tumhari awaaz target nahi banegi.

She almost laughs at the paradox, eyes wet.

MEERA
T-17?

RAGHAV
Khurana ke archives ka side locker.
Uske guard ko meetha pasand hai.

He slides her a tiny wrapped sweet.

She stares, then nods.

MEERA
Kal.

They watch tide slap stone. Soothe and menace at once.

INT. POLICE HQ – RECORDS – NIGHT

Kabir alone, under sickly light.
He replays body cam master—sees clean footage before the cut. The order to release edited snippet sits unread.

KABIR
(to himself)
System ko system se ladate hain… par kab?

He copies the uncut to a private drive. Pauses. Closes eyes.

He drops the drive into an evidence envelope, seals it with his initials.

INT. KHURANA ARCHIVE CORRIDOR – NIGHT

A bored GUARD munches sweets.
Meera walks past in a courier cap, carrying a box. Smile tight, eyes calm.

GUARD
Delivery?

MEERA
(singsong)
Meetha pehle, kaam baad.

Guard chuckles, waves her in.

She reaches locker row. T-17. The tiny key turns.
Inside: paper files, a datatape, and a ledger—the same style as the planted one… but different binding.

She snaps photos, slides the ledger into her box—

An ALARM pips softly. Motion sensor?

She freezes—then snaps the box shut, wheels it out, calm as she can.

The Guard frowns—
Meera pushes faster, into lift—doors close on his suspicion.

EXT. SERVICE LANE – CONTINUOUS

Meera emerges, breath like glass.
Her phone lights: RAGHAV: “Left. 40m.”

She turns left—
A shadow breaks from a pillar—a goon grabs her arm.

GOON
Courier kahan?

Before she can scream—
A hand clamps the goon’s wrist, cranks it to a lock. RAGHAV.
He pivots, dumps the man against a dumpster. One hit. Sleep.

RAGHAV
Chalo.
(then, eyeing the box)
Tumne kar dikhaya.

A faint, fierce smile through terror.

INT. SAFE HOUSE – LATER

Ledger pages on the floor.
Meera and Raghav cross-match against the news screenshot.
Fonts? Different. Paper aging? Different. Binding? Different.

MEERA
Planted ledger public mein gaya. Original yeh hai.

RAGHAV
Aur original se audit hota hai.

They scan the datatape with a cobbled reader. Slowly, clunky.
Entries scroll: shell entities, project codes, kickback splits.

A final page: a transfer labeled “PRESS MGMT—ACCIDENT UNIT” with round sum.
Meera’s mouth dries.

MEERA
Yehi woh line hai.

RAGHAV
Yeh woh qatl hai.

A beat. Decision platens into iron.

MEERA
Isko kaise drop karein? Woh log sab pe baith jaate hain.

RAGHAV
Hum unke upar se nahi—neeche se jayenge.

He circles on the map a net of mohalla papers, regional blogs, union pamphlets. The people’s plumbing.

INT. HOME MINISTER’S STUDY – SAME NIGHT

Aides scurry. Deshmukh stands alone at the window, rain like nails.

DESHMUKH
(soft)
Shehar mere saath hai.

Behind him, PA stands in the doorway, pale.

DESHMUKH (CONT’D)
Tum kuch kehna chahte ho?

PA opens his mouth—to lie, to confess, to weep—
He says nothing. Bows and leaves.

Deshmukh stares into his reflection: proud, frightened.

EXT. PRINTING PRESS SHED – DAWN

Mechanic clatter. Ink-slick rollers.
A small newspaper prints a front-page with the first excerpts—coded, careful.
Another press elsewhere. Another blog. Another leaflet.

The cascade begins.

INT. KHURANA PENTHOUSE – MORNING

Khurana’s phone explodes with notifications.
He scrolls—tiny outlets, small audiences—but many, many.

KHURANA
(icy)
Shut them down.

AIDE
Sir, yeh chhote log hain. Unke paas shut down hone ko kuch nahi hota.

Khurana’s jaw ticks.

EXT. CITY – MONTAGE — DAY TO NIGHT

—Union man hands a leaflet to a commuter.
—College group WhatsApps the coded excerpts.
—Women at a clinic read a photocopy.
—Temple noticeboard pins an “anonymous” sheet.
—A street poet recites lines that are ledger entries in rhyme.

A rumor storm. A truth flood.

INT. POLICE HQ – COMMISSIONER’S OFFICE – EVENING

The COMMISSIONER fumes at Kabir.

COMMISSIONER
Yeh circus tumne khola? Media ke chhote-chhote dabbewale?

KABIR
No, sir.

COMMISSIONER
Malik ko arrest karo. Aj raat.
Aur woh journalist—Meera—usko “protective custody.”
(meaning clear)

Kabir nods, dead inside.

INT. SAFE HOUSE – NIGHT (LOW POINT BEGINS)

Raghav and Meera eat cold khichdi from one pot.
She laughs suddenly, a small cracked thing.

MEERA
Kabhi socha nahi tha ki main ek din kisi gangster ke saath dinner karungi…
aur mujhe woh sahi lagega.

Raghav half-smiles.

RAGHAV
Main gangster tab tha jab mujhe sirf apna khoon dikhta tha.
Ab mujhe shehar ka khoon dikh raha hai.

Their moment fractures—
The door lock twitches. Then… clicks open.

Raghav’s eyes snap. He flips the table, yanks Meera down.
The door swings—A SMOKE GRENADE skitters in, sputtering fog.

Shadowed figures pour in. Professional. Quiet boots. POLICE? GOONS? BOTH.

A baton cracks the wall where Raghav’s head was.
He counters—blind, low—leg reap, elbow. A man crashes into a chair.

Meera coughs, eyes streaming. She crawls for the ledger box.

A silhouette seizes her ankle, drags—
She kicks, scrabbles—fingers brush the box—another boot stamps her wrist. CRACK. She yelps.

RAGHAV barrels through smoke, shoulder into a man’s ribs. Wall crunch.
A TASER snaps—Raghav convulses, drops to a knee, teeth gritted.
Another baton whistles. He catches it bare-hand, twists, yanks—a man flips.
He swings the baton, one-two, finds faces by their breath in smoke.

A gun cocks inches from Meera’s temple—

VOICE (CALM)
Bas. Enough.

The smoke parts. ACP KABIR stands, gun steady—his face stricken.

KABIR
Meera ko custody. Malik ko niche. Abhi.

Raghav glowers. Meera’s eyes beg.

MEERA
Kabir… please…

KABIR
(voice breaks)
Aaj nahi.
(then harder)
Aaj tum dono mere ho.

A hood drops over Meera’s head. Zip-ties cinch.
Raghav lunges—three batons hit—he drops, darkness around the edges.

LOW POINT: RAGHAV FRAMED, MEERA TAKEN, EVIDENCE GONE.

EXT. POLICE VAN – RAINING NIGHT

Raghav slumped in cuffs inside a POLICE VAN. Bleeding.
Across from him, KABIR—silent. Between them, two constables.

RAGHAV
Tumhe pata hai tum kya kar rahe ho?

KABIR
Jitna karna chahiye utna.
(aside, raw)
Shayad kam.

Raghav studies him—sees the fracture lines.

RAGHAV
Sach ko marne se pehle—kam se kam uska chehra yaad rakhna.

Kabir looks away, jaw tight.

EXT. RAIN-SOAKED STREET – CONTINUOUS

The van hits a pothole—BANG. Lurches.
A second SUV cuts across—headlights blaze.
The van swerves, sideswipes a barrier—SCREECH—comes to a jerking halt.

The constables slam forward. Kabir braces—
The SUV doors burst—MASKED MEN flood, teargas canister pops inside the van.

Pandemonium.
A Masked Man yanks the van door, drags Raghav out like cargo.

KABIR
NO!

His shout is swallowed by gas. He coughs, eyes streaming, firing blindly into rain—no target.

The SUV peels away with Raghav inside.
The van wheezes, siren coughing, spinning in place.

Kabir staggers into road, drenched, howling at a city that answers in thunder.

INT. UNKNOWN ROOM – NIGHT

Pitch dark. RAGHAV wakes tied to a chair. A single bulb flares.
Room bare, concrete sweat.

A figure steps in—not Sameer.
A subtle suit, no jewelry: RATAN KHURANA.

KHURANA
Tum old school ho.
Main, infrastructure.
(tilts head)
Shehar mujhse banta hai. Tumse … toot ta hai.

Raghav’s lip bleeds. He smiles — a wolf that knows your scent.

RAGHAV
Tum banaate ho?
Bastiyon ko tod ke?
Ho—“builder.”

Khurana ignores the barb, places a phone on a stool. Hits play.
Video: MEERA, hood off, chained to a chair in a different room. A man’s hand strokes her hair. She jerks away, furious.

KHURANA
Frame sirf tasveer ka nahi hota, Malik.
Narrative hota hai.
Kal subah tum “terror finance” ke case mein confess karoge.
Aur yeh… ghar jayegi.

Raghav looks at Meera on the screen. Jaw stone.

KHURANA (CONT’D)
Ya phir tum dono…
(soft)
…kisi aur kahaani mein chale jaoge.

Raghav breathes. Bleeds. Doesn’t blink.

RAGHAV
(very soft)
Kahaani ka villain system hoga.
Maine decide kar liya hai.

Khurana leans, amused at the audacity.
He pats Raghav’s cheek—condescending, intimate. Leaves.

Door clangs shut.
The bulb hums. A drip counts time.

Raghav lowers his head—only to slide something into his palm: a thin steel shim taped to his wrist all along.

He starts working the cuff.

CUT TO BLACK.

END OF ACT II.

Khoon Ka Karz — Screenplay

Act III (Resolution | ~30 min text draft in industry style)

Note: Screenplay-styled text you can paste into Final Draft/Celtx/WriterDuet. Courier 12pt ≈ 1 page/min. This act closes the core revenge/exposure arc while keeping the world open.

FADE IN:

INT. UNKNOWN ROOM – NIGHT

Dim bulb hum. RAGHAV works the cuff with the thin steel shim.
A click. Freedom.

Footsteps outside. He coils the chain, ready.

The door opens—A GUARD steps in.
Raghav loops the chain, yanks—quiet choke. Low, efficient takedown. He strips the man’s keycard and pistol.

He stands, blood seeping from shoulder—eyes colder than the room.

INT. HALLWAY / SERVICE STAIRS – CONTINUOUS

Concrete. Drips. A camera blinks.
Raghav angles the guard’s reflective badge to flare the lens—white bloom—slides past blind.

At the stairwell landing a small shrine (incense, marigold). He flicks ash off his cuff; a private prayer. Then down.

EXT. DOCK BACKLOT – NIGHT

Rain needles. Raghav steals into shadow.
Two MEN smoke under a tin awning, chatting about “Viren” and “accident unit.”

That name lands like iron.

MAN #1
Kal yard. Viren khud aayega—exchange, phir khallas.

Raghav vanishes into the dark, decision made.

INT. PAYPHONE BOOTH – LATER

Old payphone. Raghav dials a number from memory.

RAGHAV
Bhaiya.

PA (V.O.)
(terrified whisper)
Main–main ghar par—

RAGHAV
Tumhari behen abhi tumhare saamne baithi hai?
(silence)
Nahi. Kyun? Kyunki tumhara “system” uske aas-paas ghoomta hai.
Ek kaam karo. Tum mere saath ho— to main uske aas-paas apna aadmi ghoomata hoon.

PA breathes, torn.

RAGHAV (CONT’D)
Kal yard pe “accident unit” ka head aayega—Viren Dalvi.
Mujhe uski file chahiye: routes, gaadi, guard roster.
Badle mein… tumhari behen kal subah safe college pahuchegi.
(beat)
Aur tum—zinda rooh ke saath zinda aadmi rahoge.

A long, aching silence.

PA (V.O.)
Haan.

Click.

Raghav holds the receiver a moment longer, the world poised.

INT. KAKA’S GARAGE – PRE-DAWN

KAKA checks a scooter. A GIRL (19) curls in a shawl on a cot—PA ki behen—sleeping, safe.
Raghav ties a red thread to the scooter key.

KAKA
College tak main khud. Do chakkar lagaa ke aaoonga.

RAGHAV
(soft)
Is shehar ko hum jaante hain.
(then)
Bas aaj woh humein pehchaan le.

They clasp hands. War again, but with lines drawn cleaner.

INT. SAFE HOUSE – MORNING

MEERA on a cot, wrist splinted. Determined.
Raghav spreads a plan on the floor: Yard map, train schedule, camera grid, timed drops.

MEERA
Live drop?

RAGHAV
Multi. Teen newsrooms, do regional, ek student network.
Sabpe samey par—ek saath.

He hands her a pendrive labeled “A”.

RAGHAV (CONT’D)
Isme PA ke logs aur Khurana ke ledger ke scans.
(then a second drive)
Aur isme—warehouse ka uncut.

MEERA
Uncut?

RAGHAV
Kabir ke paas hai.

They trade a look: the gamble.

INT. POLICE HQ – RECORDS ROOM – DAY

ACP KABIR stares at the evidence envelope he sealed last night.
His phone pings: “Commissioner: Release edited to primetime.”

Kabir doesn’t reply. He slips the uncut bodycam copy into his jacket.

EXT. CHURCH STEPS – DAY

PA sits trembling. Raghav appears, sits beside him, like a parishioner.

PA
Viren—11:40 p.m., Yard Gate 3. Scorpio black, plate MH-01-3X27.
Do shooters. Ek driver. Ek spotter.
Minister ke office se koi nahi aayega.
(beat)
Main tumhare saath hoon.

Raghav nods. Compassion, not victory.

RAGHAV
Tumhari behen college mein hogi, 10 baje.

The PA’s eyes wet. He quietly hands a lanyard—Yard vendor pass.

PA
Luck.

EXT. COLLEGE GATE – LATE MORNING

Students stream in. KAKA parks. The GIRL dismounts, smiles in thanks, disappears into noise.

Kaka watches until she’s swallowed by campus. He exhales—relief with teeth.

INT. SMALL COFFEE HOUSE – AFTERNOON

MEERA meets KABIR in a back booth. She slides the pendrive “A”.

MEERA
Agar aap bhi system ho— to yeh bekar hai.
Agar aap Kabir ho—to yeh sab kuch hai.

Kabir holds her gaze. He pockets the drive. His hand shakes once—then stills.

KABIR
Aaj raat. Gate 3.
(quiet)
I’ll try to keep cameras sach pe.

He leaves before courage runs out.

EXT. RAILWAY YARD – NIGHT (RAIN, AGAIN)

Monsoon returns like a verdict. Floodlights bloom intermittently.

11:32 p.m.
A vendor van rolls to Gate 3—driver cap pulled low: RAGHAV.
The guard glances at lanyard, waves him in. The van merges with shadows.

11:38 p.m.
A BLACK SCORPIO idles near an old MAINTENANCE SHED.

11:40 p.m.
VIREN DALVI (40s) steps out—compact, coiled, blank eyes.
Two SHOOTERS fan behind. The driver stays.

Viren taps his wrist, impatient.

From the vendor van, a tool crate is unloaded, parked near a stack of rail sleepers.
No one notices the thin nylon line snaking from crate to the yard spotlight junction box.

INT./EXT. YARD — INTERCUT: KABIR & POLICE

KABIR arrives with a lean team—body cams on.
He gestures: no sirens. He raises a palm—hold.

He flips his own cam to local record and hotspot stream to a private dead-drop.

KABIR
(mutters)
System ko system se.

EXT. MAINTENANCE SHED – CONTINUOUS

Viren’s phone buzzes with a one-line text: “PA ke through. Exchange now.”

A figure steps out—RAGHAV—empty hands, rain-slick.

VIREN
(assessing)
Tu baap hai ya qaatil?

RAGHAV
Aaj dono.

VIREN
Proof?

RAGHAV
Proof jahan hona chahiye—public mein.

Beat. Viren smiles almost tenderly.

VIREN
Accidents mein sabse badi cheez hoti hai timing.
(leans)
Tu late aaya.

RAGHAV
Nahi. Tum jaldi maroge.

The SHOOTER moves a fraction. Raghav’s eyes flick—a cue—

He tugs the nylon line. In the junction box, a trip—
—SPOTLIGHTS cut. Darkness.
A flare pops from Raghav’s crate—WHITE LIGHT blinds the shooters.

Silhouettes crash.

CQC ERUPTS—BRUTAL, CLOSE, REAL.

—Raghav parries a blade with forearm bone, corkscrews elbow into triceps, disarms, headbutt.
—He rips the shooter’s sling, garrotes around bicep, yanks to floor.
—Second shooter fires wild; Raghav shoves first man into line; shot takes meat, not life.
—A knee stomp, ear clap, throat jab—ugly, efficient.

Viren watches, calm predator, then charges—no gun—ice pick grip knife.

Clash of men who’ve done this before:

—Viren ice-pick stabs, Raghav covers with left, cuts inside angle, hammerfist to kidney.
—Viren eye rake, Raghav chin tuck, eats it, elbow to clavicle.
—They slam into sleepers—wood splinters.
—Viren flips Raghav, tries to pin knife down toward throat.

RAGHAV strains, blade kissing skin.
He releases pressure suddenly, re-angles—knife skates past his neck—he traps Viren’s wrist with both knees, wrenches—a sick crack.

The knife drops.
Viren snarls, headbutts—Raghav blurs—palm-heel to nose, snap.
Viren reels… grabs a loose coupling lever nearby, swings.

Raghav ducks—lever clangs rail. He hooks Viren’s ankle—dump on ballast.
He follows with three short punches—solar plexus, jaw, jaw.

Viren spits blood, laughs through broken teeth.

VIREN
(whisper)
Conscience ko “accident” bolte hain shehar mein.

Raghav stares—then drives the coupling lever down across Viren’s forearm and throat—not flourish, finish.

Viren’s breath gurgles.
Raghav leans close, a father at a grave.

RAGHAV
Accident nahi. Hisab.

Viren goes still.

Silence eats rain.

EXT. YARD PERIMETER – SAME

KABIR and team breach—body cams rolling—catch the end: Raghav on knees, breathing, Viren down, shooters groaning.

A COP swings rifle—Kabir stays his barrel.

KABIR
(steady)
Hands visible, Malik.

Raghav raises palms. Kabir’s eyes flick to Viren—understanding lands.

EXT. YARD — CONTINUOUS

Headlights flood. The BLACK SCORPIO revs to flee.
KABIR signals—A police Interceptor cuts it off. Driver surrenders.

Kabir looks at Raghav. Choices converge.

KABIR
Tum bhaag sakte ho.
Main dekh nahi paaunga.

A half-smile between enemies who have been circling truth.

RAGHAV
Aaj nahi bhaagunga.

KABIR
(soft)
Toh system dekh lega.

He turns to his team.

KABIR (CONT’D)
Scene secure.
(then, to cam)
Note: Primary deceased—Viren Dalvi, alias maintenance lead. Secondary—two injured shooters.
Public proof to follow.

He glances at Raghav—go.
Raghav fades into shadow, vanishes between wagons.

Kabir exhales, choosing to see only what makes justice possible.

INT. NEWSROOMS / HOSTELS / SMALL PRESS — INTERCUT — NIGHT

LIVE DROP CASCADE.

—Meera hits SEND on three embargoed emails that unlock now:
Minister PA logs (redacted names),
Khurana ledger excerpts (numbers, shells),
Yard permit trails,
Bodycam UNCUT copy (Kabir’s file).

—A student newsroom streams the uncut.
—A regional daily posts the ledger scans with a blunt headline.
—A veteran anchor (not bought) goes live: “Aaj raat, jo aap dekh rahe hain, woh kahani nahi—record hai.”

Phones everywhere light. Forward. Forward. Forward.

INT. HOME MINISTER’S STUDY – SAME

DESHMUKH stares at multiple screens.
PALE. The PA stands behind, shaking.

DESHMUKH
Damage control.
(then to PA)
Tum yahan kyun ho? Jao—media ko line do.

The PA looks at him. A lifetime of errands… ending.

PA
Sir—main… resign karta hoon.

Deshmukh splutters—rage cracking polish.

DESHMUKH
Tum…!

The PA bows and leaves, shaky but alive.

INT. KHURANA PENTHOUSE – SAME

KHURANA at the window, city bleeding light.
SAMEER lounges on a couch, a cut on his brow butterfly-taped.

SAMEER
Market kal hil jayega.

KHURANA
Market ko hilna pasand hai. Bas girna nahi.

SAMEER
Aur Minister?

KHURANA
Resign?
(smiles thinly)
Not yet.

They clink silent glasses to a warped truth.

EXT. DALAL STREET / NEWS TICKERS — MORNING

MARKET JITTERS. Red tickers, green whiplash.
“INFRA STOCKS VOLATILE,” “POLITICAL NEXUS TRENDING #1,” “BODYCAM UNCUT RAISES QUESTIONS.”

Street chatter, WhatsApp pings, chai shop debates.

INT. POLICE PRESS ROOM – DAY

Podium. Flashes. COMMISSIONER delivers bland lines.
ACP KABIR stands aside, impassive.

A REPORTER
Sir, footage jo out hua hai—uncut—us par aap…?

COMMISSIONER
(iron smile)
Internal review. No comments.

Kabir’s eyes lift to the back—MEERA watches, bandaged, notebook out.
They share a tiny nod. Complicity in a better crime: truth.

EXT. MUMBAI – MONTAGE — DAY TO NIGHT

—A mural appears overnight under a flyover: A MOUTH WHISPERING; below it: “Sach bol, shehar sunta hai.”
—Slum cluster meetings read photocopies; a school teacher explains “shell company” like a story.
—A taxi driver mutters to a passenger: “Malik… wapas aa gaya.”
—WhatsApp voice notes: “कहते हैं, फिर से उसका नाम फुसफुसाती हवा में सुना…”

INT. MALIK HOUSE – DUSK

Quiet. Yellow bulb. Dust motes.
Raghav enters. He sets down keys, knife, the last phone.
He stands before Anaya’s photo.

RAGHAV
(soft, to her)
Badla—ek baar.
Sach—barson tak.

He wipes a blood smudge off the frame with his thumb.

Door knock.
He tenses—then relaxes: KAKA.

KAKA
Behen college pahuchee. Bach gayi—dono.

They sit. Two cups of chai. No sugar.

KAKA (CONT’D)
Ab?

RAGHAV
Ab… shehar.

They drink in silence. The city hum answers.

EXT. SEAFACE / PROMENADE – NIGHT

MEERA walks, wrist in sling. She records a voice memo.

MEERA (V.O.)
“Some stories end with an arrest. This one ends with a city learning to verify, to listen, to look. The villain isn’t a man. The villain is convenience.”

She stops recording. Stares at black water. Smiles, tired and alive.

INT. POLICE HQ – KABIR’S OFFICE – NIGHT

Kabir alone. He signs a memo: “Bodycam dissemination protocol reform.”
He slips it into OUTBOX. He doesn’t know if it survives. He did it anyway.

His phone buzzes: Unknown.
A single line: “Shukriya. —M”

Kabir exhales. Almost smiles.

EXT. CITY OVERPASS – PRE-DAWN

Traffic begins. A wet violet sky.
On a high catwalk above, a solitary figure leans on railing—RAGHAV—face unreadable.

His phone vibrates—MEERA: “We did it.”
Another ping—KAKA: “Tea?”
A third—Unknown student paper: a photo of the whisper mural.

Raghav pockets the phone. He turns, steps into the spine of the city.

As he walks, murmurs below:
“Malik…,” “Sach…,” “System…,” a myth waking.

CITY (WHISPER, OVERLAPPING)
“…उसका नाम फिर से हवा में फुसफुसाती है…”

Raghav disappears into morning crowds, neither savior nor sinner—
—just a man who changed the angle of a story.

CUT TO BLACK.

TITLE CARD: KHOON KA KARZ

END.

✍️ Ending Note for Khoon Ka Karz

Khoon Ka Karz isn’t just a revenge story. It is about how truth struggles against systems built to bury it. Raghav’s journey begins as a father’s quest for justice, but ends as a commentary on corruption, politics, and power—where the real villain is not one man, but a whole nexus.

The open-ended finale leaves Raghav alive, not as a triumphant hero but as a myth reborn in whispers—his name feared in underworld lanes, yet respected among those seeking justice. The Minister and Tycoon survive for now, because in reality, systems don’t collapse overnight. They bend, they crack, they get exposed piece by piece.

By mixing the grit of Sacred Games, the intimacy of Kaala Patthar, and the generational echo of Gangs of Wasseypur, this story aims to feel raw, real, and timeless.

At its heart, it asks one question:
👉 In a city where “accidents” can be manufactured, who will manufacture the truth?

 

Likho Script

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