A/N: The first chapter follows the beginning of the game, with a slight change to the ending. Following chapters will be different, so please bare with me. Reviews and constructive criticism is always welcome. I hope you enjoy the story.

NOTE: Like the game, this story is rated M for violence, course language and nudity.

Disclaimer: I own nothing associated with Far Cry 4. People and places belong to Ubisoft. I own one OC.

Ajay, my son. I have but one last wish. Take me back to Lakshmana.

Lakshmana. I had never heard of the place before. All I knew was that it was located in the country of my birth. A country that had been so clouded in mystery growing up that I sometimes wondered if my mother just made it up. I gazed down at the silver urn in my hands. The call from the US Embassy in Patna still replayed in my mind. Peterson had warned me not to travel into Kyrat, warning me of the civil unrest due to a group called the Golden Path. At first I had my doubts of travelling into Kyrat, but it had been my mother's final wish, and I wasn't about to let her down.

"Hey," the man next to me said, breaking me out of my thoughts. "Passport."

Carefully slipping my mother's urn into my rucksack, I produced my passport and handed it to him. The man took it, opened it up and slipped a piece of paper between the pages before handing it back to me.

"Breathe," he advised. "I do the talking."

Nodding, I released the breath I didn't know I had been holding. My heart raced, my hands shook. Underneath my gloves, my palms grew sweaty from nerves. Throughout the bus people called out for passports. A man behind me tapped me on the shoulder, passing me his passport. Taking it, I handed the document to another man, having the thing almost snatched out of my hand by an over-eager monkey. The passports were handed up front as the bus came to the Kyrati border crossing. Slipping my own passport into my rucksack, I gazed out the window as a group of soldiers in red uniforms began searching the bus. The driver got out and began talking to one of the soldiers in a language I didn't understand.

The joys of living in America, I thought as I watched the scene unfold. I turned to the man beside me. "What's happening?" I asked.

He shushed me and became increasingly nervous. I turned my attention back out the window, but a commotion behind me made me look over my shoulder. The two men who were sitting behind me got out of the back, suddenly holding guns I had never noticed before.

What the hell?

The red uniformed soldiers turned towards the back of the bus and began shooting at the two guys who had just gotten out of the bus. I ducked as the driver began shooting.

"Oh fuck," I cursed.

The soldiers suddenly turned their attention to the bus, aiming at me. I was thrown to the floor as they open fired. I covered my head in my arms as bullets flew. The man from before pushed me towards the back of the bus. My hands were shaking so badly I fumbled with the door latch. The doors opened and I fell to the ground, throwing my arms up to shield my face from the wind roaring around me as a helicopter began to land. The remaining soldiers ordered me and the other man to the ground. He was on his stomach, hands on his head. I knelt down, eyes darting between the soldiers and the helicopter.

A man with a shaved head, save for a long patch of hair on the top of his head stepped off the helicopter. From the look on his face, I could tell he was pissed. The new man walked up to one of the soldiers who was holding his bleeding shoulder.

"I distinctly remember saying stop the bus," the man said to the soldier. "Yes. Stop the bus. Not shoot the bus. I'm very particular with my words. Stop. Shoot. Stop. Shoot. Do any of those words sound the same?"

The soldier grimaced. "But, it got out of control," he whimpered.

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you. What did you say?" the man asked.

"It's got out of control."

"Got out of control," the man repeated, taking something out of the inside of his coat pocket. "I hate when things get out of control." He grabbed the soldier, threw him to the ground and proceeded to stab him repeatedly. "You had one fucking job and you couldn't fucking do that!" he yelled.

I could only watch on in horror. What the hell had I gotten myself into? The man sighed and pulled away, falling into a sitting position beside the body. He glared down at his shoes.

"And I got blood on my fucking shoes," he growled in disgust.

He looked up and our gazes met. His face softened as he gestured a hand in my direction.

"At least there's a silver lining," he sighed. "You didn't completely fuck it up."

My only guess was that he was talking to the dead body behind him. He got to his feet and grabbed my arm, pulling me to my feet.

"Get up, boy," he instructed, gazing almost longingly into my eyes. "I'd recognize those eyes anywhere."

He chuckled and pulled me into a tight hug. I didn't know what possessed me to do so, but I put my arms around him. I didn't know who this guy was, but he obviously knew me. He pulled away, smiling through the blood that dripped down his face.

"I'm so sorry about all this," he apologized. "This was supposed to be..." He looked around. "Well, not this." He clapped me on the shoulder. "We have a party waiting for you, but I don't think I know your name," he said to the man on the ground. He walked over and bent down. "Who is this?" he asked, looking up at me. "Hmm? Is this your plus one?" He looked down at the man again, who remained still. He looked back up at me. "Strong silent type." He winked. "I like it."

Two soldiers pulled the man to his feet as the other one stood up. He looked apologetic again.

"I am terribly embarrassed about all this," he said. "This was supposed to be very simple. But you know if you give food to monkeys they just throw their shit at each other. Oh, would you hold this?" He handed the bloody knife to me, which I took with some trepidation. He produced a cell phone from his pocket. "For just a moment, I want to get...a little picture. Right into the camera. There we are."

He pulled me close to him. My expression in the camera was far less than pleased. In fact I looked to be a cross between completely horrified and terribly confused. I couldn't even find it in me to even attempt a smile. However, that didn't stop him from grinning from ear to ear. He snapped the picture, capturing my stunned look for eternity. He looked at the picture as if he had just taken a selfie with someone famous, or an old friend. I didn't know which.

"Awesome," he breathed.

The breath of a flame brought my attention to the bus. My heart sank as I watched flames engulf the bus.

"Don't worry about a thing, my boy," the man assured me. "This will soon be behind us and we'll be off on our grand adventure." He turned me towards the helicopter as he spoke. "Because I have cleared my calendar for you. You and I are gonna tear shit up!"

Everything suddenly went completely dark as a bag was pulled over my head.

The sound of my own breathing was deafening. My heart hammered in my ears. I didn't know where I was, I could hardly remember the helicopter ride. I wasn't dead, yet, so that was a good thing. But, what was to be my fate from here on? I heard voices buzz around me, but I was too terrified to pay attention. I recognized one voice as being the man who had kidnapped me from the bus.

"Well, go on. Take the bloody bag off his head," the man's voice commanded.

Harsh sunlight instantly blinded me. I blinked several times, trying to banish the spots that shot across my vision from the sudden light. I looked around at my surroundings. I was sitting directly across from the man who abducted me. To my right was the man who helped me on the bus, and to my left was another man. Paul, if I heard correctly.

"Again, terribly sorry for happened before," the man across from me said. He held his hands out. "This is more what I had in mind." He clapped his hands together. "So, fresh start. Introductions." He held a hand towards me. "Ajay Ghale, our guest of honor." He motioned towards the man on my left. "Paul, our very gracious host." He motioned to the man on my right. "The little monkey, whose name I still don't know." He put his hands on his chest. "And, I, of course, am Pagan Min."

Pagan Min. Now, I had a name to go with the face of my abductor. Pagan Min fixed me with a studying look.

"You...really don't remember me, do you?" he asked.

I shook my head. "I'm sorry, but no," I replied.

"Your mother, she never spoke of me? Never mentioned me?" he pressed. I continued to shake my head. "Oh, we'll change all that," Pagan Min promised. He turned to Paul. "Paul, I need cash."

I glanced over at Paul to see him fish out his wallet. He opened it and skimmed over some paper bills.

"How much do you need?" he asked.

"All of it," Pagan Min replied, voice deep and stern.

Paul held out the wallet and Pagan Min took out whatever bills was in it.

"Thank you," Pagan Min said, leafing through the bills. "Here we are. Ah." He held one of the bills up to his face. "Hmm?" he asked, causing me to shake my head again in confusion. He tossed the bill on to the table. "Alright, how about this?" he asked, holding up another bill. "With the smile."

Another shake of the head from me and he let the paper float gently to the table top. He held up the final bill, mimicking the stern look that was on the paper.

"That's you," I said quietly.

Pagan Min nodded. "That's me," he confirmed. He looked at the bill before throwing it on the table. "Although, I'm not so sure, anymore," he confessed.

I looked quickly to the man to my right, who only offered me a confused shrug. I turned back to Pagan Min when he started talking again.

"Now, your mother, on the other hand," he stated, picking up my mother's urn, causing my heart to plummet into my stomach.

"Hey!" I exclaimed, moving to get up, but Paul grabbed my arm and shook his head.

Biting my tongue, I reluctantly sat back down. My hands clenched into tight, shaking fists.

"She," Pagan Min continued, swirling the urn around. "knew me in a way no one ever did."

To my disgust, he dipped his small finger into the urn and put it to his tongue. My stomach lurched and my eyes grew wide in shock. Who the hell was this guy to do that to my mother's ashes? I wanted nothing more than to climb across the table and strangle him. However, the only thing keeping me from doing so was that I had no idea how many guards were posted around the immediate area. So, I just sat there with my fists clenched and fighting not to get sick.

"Mm," Pagan Min hummed. "That takes me back." He studied the urn for a moment before continuing his monologue. "The last time I saw Ishwari was years ago. She told me she loved me. Women can do that. They can tell you they love you in the moment and mean it, men, on the other hand. No, men only really love you in hindsight. When too much distance has built up."

Pagan Min clinked his tongue and placed my mother's urn back on the table, much to my relief.

"So, when your mother decided to flee to the United States with you on her hip," he said, getting up from the table, picking up a pair of sharpened steel chopsticks. He walked around to the back of the man's chair. "I couldn't help but blame myself. Then I realized, 'it's not me. No. It was the fucking Golden Path!'"

I jumped when Pagan Min suddenly threw the man to the table, stabbing the chopsticks into his shoulder. My heart raced, I couldn't remember how to breathe.

What the hell's happening?

I reached out to try and help, but Pagan Min leaned in close, waving a finger in my face. His eyes burned with a loathing hatred that made my blood freeze in my veins.

"Those fucking terrorists, they ruin everything. Like dinner," Pagan Min said, turning to his captive. The man grunted and groaned in pain. "Did no one ever teach you that it's rude to text at the table?" He smacked the man's hand away from a cell phone I hadn't noticed before. "Let's see here. Give me the phone!" he snapped, repeatedly hitting the man's hand when he tried to fight back. "Really, guys?" Pagan Min called out, waving the phone around. "We're not checking for these anymore?" He flipped through the phone's messages. "Ah! 'I'm with Ajay Ghale.' You'll love this part. 'Help.'"

He held the phone out towards Paul before showing me. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears. Pagan Min chuckled to himself. He looked down at the man still skewered to the chopsticks.

"A text for help?" he asked incredulously. His voice became low and dangerous. "You don't text for help, you cry for help. So, come on, you're going to cry for help." He pulled the man to his feet, still keeping the chopsticks embedded in his shoulder. "You're going to do something, you're going to do it right. Here we go!" He pulled the man over to the open balcony railing. "Go on...cry for help," he commanded. "Cry for help."

"Help," the man said weakly.

Pagan Min didn't look impressed. "Aw, pathetic," he growled. "No. Cry for help."

"Help," the man called again.

"Like you mean it, boy," Pagan Min snarled.

"Help!" the man cried.

"Help!" Pagan Min yelled. "From your diaphragm! Help!"

There was a couple of seconds of just the two of them crying for help. I could only sit there and stare.

What the hell is happening?

Pagan Min shushed him. "Now, we listen..." Everything fell deathly silent for a moment. "Nothing," Pagan Min whispered. "I'm afraid they're not coming for you, buddy." He chuckled, finally extracting the chopsticks, causing the man to grunt and his knees to buckle. Pagan Min turned around and addressed Paul. "Find out what he knows," he instructed.

Paul got up from the table and went over to the man as two guards dragged him off. Pagan Min took a deep breath and tossed the chopsticks on the table, picking up his own cellphone. "Terrorists," he complained. "Right?" He turned to look at me. "Now, please, stay right here. Enjoy the Crab Rangoon. I will be right back."

I followed the movement, remaining seated. Pagan Min dialed a number on the phone and put it to his ear.

"Yuma, we need to talk," was the last thing I heard before he left the room.

I took the opportunity to reach over, place the top back on the urn and gather my mother's ashes. I slipped the urn back in my rucksack, determined to keep it out of Pagan Min's hands. I gazed around the room, not sure what to do. Somewhere in the compound I heard electricity course, which was then followed by pained screams. I couldn't help but flinch.

I looked down at the plate that still sat in front of me. I swallowed thickly as I heard another series of screams. My stomach churned and I pushed the plate away, knowing I wouldn't have been able to keep it down. My mind was spinning. So many emotions passed through my system I barely had enough time to process them all. How did this guy know my mother? And in such a way that he would speak of her as if she were his lover?

I put a hand to my mouth as my heart skipped a few beats. I didn't want to think it, but the possibility kept creeping up on me. There was no way. Was there? Could it be...?

What am I supposed to think?

I didn't know how long I sat there, staring off into space. It felt like an eternity, but when I checked my watch only thirteen minutes had passed. My attention was brought to the door when I heard footsteps approach. Pagan Min sighed as he extended his arms.

"Fan-bloody-tastic," he declared. "You, sir, are a gentleman. I sincerely apologize."

I could only wave my hand dismissively, still unable to talk.

"We saw terrorists in the area, and yada yada," Pagan Min continued. He pointed towards the table. "The Crab Rangoon, right? It's..."

I visibly flinched when another round of screams sounded from the beyond.

"...fabulous," Pagan Min finished, not seeming at all affected by the screams. "Mm! Well, come on, let's go."

With that simple command, I got up from the table, grabbed my rucksack and followed him out the door. He led me out to a landing pad where a helicopter stood waiting for us. Pagan Min climbed in first and I climbed in behind him. We sat facing each other. The pilot closed the door before running over to the cockpit and getting into his seat. I remained quiet, gazing out the window at the scenery. Kyrat certainly was a beautiful place. I wondered if I would have enjoyed growing up in Kyrat had my mother stayed.

It wasn't meant to be, I mused to myself.

After a few minutes of flying, the helicopter landed on a helipad on the grounds of a large palace.

"Three point landing," Pagan Min praised. I turned to face him. "You know...part of me is surprised your mother asked for you to bring her all the way back here." The pilot opened the door. "Thank you, Kamran," he said.

"You want me to follow you..." I said flatly.

"Jesus Christ," Pagan Min cursed. "Yes, boy, the ashes aren't going to scatter themselves!"

Biting back a sigh, I climbed out of the helicopter, fixing the rucksack on my shoulder. He turned to look at me, a solemn look on his face.

"Did you mother ever tell you about your father?" he asked.

I shook my head, embarrassed. "Never. No," I replied quietly.

"Mohan...the great protector of the Golden Path. Hmph. He was a cunt," Pagan Min said in contempt. He began walking and I instinctively followed. "He whored your mother out," he went on. "Sent her to spy on me. But, we fell in love, we had a child and that is when Mohan showed his true colors." His eyes grew distant for a moment. "Hmph. He drove you and your mother away, even killed your sister, Lakshmana. Which brings us here."

He stopped in front of a small stone building. Inside, candles burned. My fingers tightened around the strap of the rucksack. I looked inside. Pictures of a beautiful baby girl decorated the walls. I turned to look at Pagan Min.

"Lakshmana shouldn't be alone anymore," he said. "I'm so glad we're finally back together." He nodded towards the shrine. "After you."

I stepped inside the building and walked over to the shrine. I slipped the rucksack off my shoulder, placed it on the floor and gently took out my mother's urn. I ran my thumb over the engraving, eyes burning with tears. I knew, in that moment, Mom was finally home again. Her final words before she slipped from this world echoed through my memories.

"I love you and will always be with you."

Wiping the tears from my eyes, I gathered myself and left the shrine. Pagan Min was leaning up against the helicopter.

"Oh, good. Do you feel better, now?" he asked. "Get it out of your system?"

I could only manage a nod as I made my way over to him.

"Good," Pagan Min said. "Maybe now we can finally shoot some goddamn guns."

He turned to get back into the helicopter. I looked over my shoulder towards the shrine. My heart was pounding in my ears, blood boiling in my veins. Who was that bastard Mohan to think he could get away with what he did? Father or no, it didn't justify his actions.

How can I even consider him my father? I wondered.

"You all right?" Pagan Min asked. "Need a lift anywhere?"

"Actually," I began. "I'd like to assist you in fighting against the Golden Path."

Pagan Min blinked in surprise. "Well, then. I'm surprised, and honored, to hear you say that." He settled into the seat and patted the spot next to him. "Come on, then, my boy, we have work to do."

As I climbed into the chopper I saw the path I had to take. I didn't know where that path would lead me, but I knew it was the right course of action.

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