In the dimly lit warehouse on the village's edge, the air smelled of oil and metal. Two men stood under a flickering light. Jagga, an older thug with a scar on his cheek, held a rifle. His eyes were hard as he looked at the younger man, Rana, who was clearly nervous.
"Listen, Rana," Jagga said gruffly. "This isn't just any gun. It's a rifle. If you wanna make it, you gotta know how to use it."
Rana nodded, watching closely as Jagga took the rifle apart, laying each piece on a table.
"First, know your weapon," Jagga continued. "Learn to take it apart and put it back together as I am showing you, no mistakes, understood."
Jagga reassembled the rifle quickly, then handed it to Rana. Taking a deep breath, Rana accepted it, his hands shaking slightly.
"Now, get a feel for it," Jagga instructed. "Hold it steady. Like this." He positioned Rana's hands correctly on the rifle, adjusting his grip.
