Shut his eyes. Died. Porus detached the syringe needle from the man's listless throat. Trembling ever so slightly, he let go of the man's limp body. The body slumped on the cheap cushions lining the sofa. Porus scanned the body with his sharp, sparkling eyes. Searching for any last shivers. Looking for any indication that there still might be some life left lurking in those limbs. Noticing none, he eased himself into the chair opposite the sofa. All of a sudden, waves of fatigue lashed his brain. He wiped his brow. It was dry. He fished out some chewing gum from his pocket and popped it into his mouth, to relax himself. Outside the window, the Mumbai rush hour was rearing its ugly head. Horns honked, brakes screeched, voices vomited viciousness. After rummaging through the black backpack lying on the floor, Porus took out a small plastic medical kit.
