The sun was setting over Los Angeles as passengers boarded their flight to New York, the cabin buzzing with easy chatter and soft laughter. In economy class, people settled into their seats, flipping through magazines, adjusting neck pillows, and making small talk with strangers.
But one man drew all the attention without saying a word.
Seat 12C.
The energy around him shifted like a cold draft. He sat broad-shouldered, heavily tattooed, with a smug smirk carved into his face — a man used to being watched, and feared.
This was Rakesh “Croc”, a name whispered in the darker corners of Mumbai’s underworld. His criminal empire thrived on fear, and that fear traveled with him, coiled around his presence like smoke. A crocodile inked along his forearm, its jaws clamped around a dagger, declared who he was before he spoke a word.
But on this flight, Rakesh wasn’t the only presence worth noting.
Just across the aisle moved Ananya Mehra, a flight attendant known for her poise and quiet authority. Her uniform was pristine, her smile warm but distant — the kind of composure that only comes from years of experience. She was the calm in the sky, the voice you trusted when the turbulence hit.
She approached Rakesh with the same professional courtesy she offered everyone else. “Sir, please fasten your seatbelt before takeoff.”
Rakesh leaned back, loud enough for surrounding passengers to hear:
“A belt might not hold me down, but your smile? That could keep me from ever flying away.”
A few nervous chuckles rippled through the rows. Ananya didn’t flinch. She gave a polite nod and walked on.
But Rakesh wasn’t finished. Not even close.
Harassment in the Skies
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