The Black Scorpio

Location: Jalandhar City, Punjab

Jalandhar wasn’t just a city. It was a system — a mix of old cricket grounds, illegal boxing rings, fashion streets, and shady basements. Every sector had a gang, and every gang had a king.

But no one touched Sector 27 — because of Gurpreet Nagra.

He didn’t speak much. He didn’t post on social media. But people knew him. And more than that — they feared him.

His ride? A black Scorpio. Black windows. Black plates. No one could see who sat inside — but once it stopped outside your door, you only had two options: kneel or disappear.

At 9:13 PM, the Scorpio slowed near Model Town.

Inside sat Gurpreet, wearing a black turban and black shades, even in the dark. His man, Happy Brar, looked nervous.

> “Veer, police di gaddi chaar time aayi aa is area ch.”

(Bro, the police car has come four times in this area.)

> “Kuch hor plan kariye?”

(Should we plan something else?)

Gurpreet didn’t blink.

> “Police? Police taan sada cover hai.”

(Police? Police is our cover.)

He pulled out his phone and sent a voice note.

At the Jalandhar Police Control Room, a constable received it and played it.

> “ACP Gill nu kehyo, ajj raat 10 to baad koi gaddi is sector ch nahi aayegi.”

(Tell ACP Gill that after 10 tonight, no vehicle enters this sector.)

The constable stood up.

“Sir, Gurpreet Nagra da message aaya aa…”

(Sir, Gurpreet Nagra has sent a message...)

ACP Gill leaned forward.

> “Kar dena jaise kehya ae.

(Do as he said.)

> Je main zinda rehna chahunda haan,

(If I want to stay alive,)

> taan menu Gurpreet de orders sunne pain ge.”

(then I have to obey Gurpreet’s orders.)

Back in the Scorpio, Gurpreet stepped out and walked into an old building. Inside, there were five boys, all under 20. Their hands were shaking.

> “Tusi navi gang banana chauhnde ho?”

(You want to form a new gang?)

The boys nodded.

Gurpreet smiled — the kind of smile that freezes your blood.

> “Ae Jalandhar ae, Canada nahi.”

(This is Jalandhar, not Canada.)

> “Ethe banda banda kutt da ae, par sirf oh jehra permission lai ke aave.”

(Here, men fight, but only those who come with permission.)

He walked to one boy and whispered.

> “Tera sir kal thalle milu mainu,

(I want to see your head bowed tomorrow,)

> nahi taan tenu vi koi na puchhega.”

(or no one will even ask where you disappeared.)

Outside, gunshots echoed from another lane.

But this wasn’t about guns anymore. This was about control.

This was about who ruled Punjab, one city at a time.

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...Disclaimer...

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental. The cities, locations, and cultural elements mentioned in this story are inspired by the vibrant culture of Punjab, but the events, characters, and organizations portrayed in this tale are entirely fictional.

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