After years of living in Mumbai, I realized the simple truth, that it was only about jealousy, this money and power circulation of people, all over the world. They wanted money from me, some way or the other. I lost faith in humanity, and people became a mere mishap, or a D-Day show down, for me, where they could get me dead. That’s all they wanted. They were hiding it in their money matters. That’s a big world and Narus is all about the world economies, the money and bioengineering. It makes me nervous, the flow of money, anonymity. I met Abu Salem, in 1947, a kingpin, of gangs of Mumbai, Dubai, and Pakistan. He wanted to start operations, and hide outs for the big wigs in the name of terrorism, inside India. Connecting everything all the way up to the 90s, Mumbai underworld, bomb blasts, terror attacks, NASDAQ crashes, and other news makers. He had a alias here in Madras, called Naetram, totally out of a shot in the dark, I wrote to him, started corresponding with him, to get me access to codes, and Rt. Dawood Ibrahim, and Chota Shakil, all wanted for serious offences by Mumbai police, still at large, nobody ever nabs such international gang members, bullshit, even for the Tomb Raider. But what of the haye for me, the D-Day, where is it ? Even as Ripley I could not get inside Narus, how those bank accounts worked and the guise of billions of people, numerous off-shore locations and bases. everything is covered up here. I can’t get any clues or hints. So I stopped becoming a gangster. Used some small business, like a mom and pop store, to keep working for the mob, in Dubai. Otherwise I would starve without intelligence and guidance, other than that I was totally independent, no one had a grasp of who I was, or where or even how to find me. Just an invisible entity, but still at large, their corporate numbers were showing discrepancies, and that’s how I found out that they were looking for me. I past was clean by now. Only in the now, so I started dying a little day by day, and then healed. Now it was totally ghost protocol for me. No real people even, just Log, circulating all over the world, but not aware of who I was, just Rt, something they don’t have. But they come, and I don’t stop them, pry open everything, and I know they are anxious of not having me, but they leave, not finding me here.