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Vivek had just jogged back home, sweaty in his track pants and old tee, dragging a ridiculously huge suitcase behind him. The wheels wobbled, thumping every few feet on the uneven pavement.
Arjun (friend, spotting him from the gate):
"Bro, are you running away from home or moving into a gym?"
Vivek (grinning):
"Nah, just thought I'd bring my wardrobe for a jog. Gotta keep the socks fit too."
Rishi (friend, stepping out with chips):
"What's in that? The Ark of the Covenant? Or your hidden stash of failed relationships?"
Vivek:
"Worse. Old Delhi factory smell and a future Nobel Prize in... fashion."
The three of them burst out laughing.
Inside the house, a little later:
They were all sitting in the living room, legs crossed like kids during storytelling class, each holding a soda bottle like it was a fine whiskey.
Arjun (raising his soda):
"To Vivek's new startup: 'Suitcase Couture — when style meets confusion'."
Rishi:
"Wait till the suitcase opens and fifty pigeons fly out with jerseys on."
Vivek (fake offended):
"At least they'll be better dressed than you in your 'I woke up like this' pajamas."
Arjun:
"You WISH you had the confidence to wear these. This isn't laziness. This is... rebellion."
They continued trading jokes, munching chips and biscuits, pretending to be drunk with soda, laughing louder than necessary. Vivek's dad peeked in once and just shook his head with a smile.
Vivek (dramatically flopping on the terrace floor):
"Tonight... I sleep among the stars... because the fan inside is too mainstream."
Rishi:
"Bro, the real reason is you farted so hard we're not letting you sleep indoors."
They all cracked up again.
Later that night...
The stars blinked above. The others were fast asleep after all the nonsense. Vivek opened one eye, checked his watch quietly, and smiled. Without a sound, he slipped away into the darkness.
He jogged lightly toward the mountain trail, past bushes and rocks, until he reached the large boulder with a strange scratch pattern only he knew how to open.
He placed his hand on it — the rock glowed faintly, parting like a custom built vault.
Inside? His hideout. Shelves of tools, industrial carbon fibre rolls, a loom-machine hybrid he "borrowed" from a forgotten factory in Delhi. His stolen sports-factory equipment gleamed under LED lights powered by makeshift solar cells.
He stretched his shoulders.
Vivek (quietly to himself):
"Time to stitch the future... one suit at a time."
---
Scene: Midnight in the Hidden Cave
The boulder entrance quietly sealed shut behind Vivek. No sound, no flash. Just the soft hum of machines and the faint glow of LED strips bouncing off stone walls.
He dropped his old jogging hoodie on the hook by the workbench and cracked his knuckles.
Before him lay rolls of matte-black polymer mesh, crushed graphite fibers, and old carbon-tempered cloth salvaged from a forgotten sportswear R&D facility in Delhi.
He pulled open a drawer. Inside were carefully labeled test pieces:
🔥 Heat Resistance — Pass
💪 Pressure Test — Pass
📷 Camera Visibility — Fail (Too shiny)
📷 Camera Visibility v2 — Pass (Absorbs IR, light, and radar)
Vivek smirked to himself.
Vivek (muttering):
"Not too flashy... not too forgettable... just right to vanish."
He laid out a blank suit frame on the mold — a mannequin-like figure with no logos, no lines. Just dull, stealthy surface that drank in the light around it.
Step 1: Inner Layer.
He pressed a button. A 3D knitter hissed and spat thin nano-weave threads — soft on the skin, pressure-adaptive, breathable even under a volcano. That inner suit could stretch with every flex, every flight, every silent sprint.
Step 2: Thermal Skin.
He gently pressed heated pads on the outer layer. The material hardened instantly, cooling into a second skin tougher than titanium yet lighter than denim. Tested to survive reentry heat, lightning strikes, even mountain crashes.
Step 3: Anti-Camera Mesh.
He laid down a grid — hexagonal particles that scattered light at random, bending the reflection, confusing lenses and AI alike. The same tech rumored to be banned from black-budget drones.
Step 4: Color Test.
Black? Too obvious.
Grey? Too military.
He held up a swatch and smiled — a weird mix of charcoal, dusk-brown, and mossy green. "No one remembers shadows," he whispered.
Vivek (laughing to himself):
"And if someone catches a glimpse? 'Oh, must've been the wind.' Classic."
Step 5: Details.
He stitched in air-pressure gel soles, heat-dispersing gloves, and flexible pads that hardened on impact. Even the mask was basic — no glowing eyes, no bat-ears, just a foldable hood with built-in filter mesh and night-adaptive lens patches.
No brand. No symbol. Just purpose.
---
One Hour Later…
Vivek stood in front of the cracked mirror.
The suit clung to his body like shadow. No shine. No identity. Just function. He crouched once, tested a leap, slid across the cave floor with zero sound.
He stood still.
The cameras in the cave turned — then stopped. Couldn't see him. Not even thermal pinged.
Vivek (grinning):
"A ghost in jogging shoes. Nice."
He tossed a crumpled post-it on the bench:
"Not a hero. Just someone who likes weird hobbies."
He pulled the hood over his head, glanced once more at the mirror, and faded into the shadows.
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