It started with a low, deep rumble that shook the foundations of the buildings.
Then, one by one, the lights of Mumbai died.
The glowing billboards of Lower Parel, the streetlights of Marine Drive, the flickering lamps of the Dharavi slums—all vanished into a heavy, suffocating darkness. The backup generators sputtered and failed, their internal circuits fried by the massive electromagnetic wave pulsing from the Gateway.
Above the city, the heavy monsoon clouds seemed to thicken, absorbing what little light remained. A cold, dark-matter smog began to settle over the streets, carrying the sharp, metallic smell of ozone.
"The entire grid is online," Rhea said, staring at the black screen of her laptop. She had to use a hand-cranked emergency radio just to receive signals. "Not just the sub-stations. They've activated the main Core."
"Mumbai is completely dark," Rahul whispered, looking out the narrow window of their sewer hideout.
In the distance, the only lights were the cold, blue headlamps of Malhotra Corp patrol vehicles. The city of twenty million people had been silenced, plunged into an artificial night.
Vikram stood in the shadows, his silver-grey eyes reflecting the faint spark of a matches Rohan was lighting. "This is what they wanted. Total control."