Central Intelligence HQ, 8:59 AM – The Calm Before the Storm
The sterile hum of morning filled the air as Kiaan walked into the headquarters. His eyes scanned the floor. Everything was in motion—Rehaan cross-checking a digital trace across three monitors, Tara immersed in code-layered documents, Dev flipping pages with robotic efficiency.
But only one pair of eyes wasn't moving with purpose.
Zid.
Leaning back at his desk, earbuds tucked in, fingers tapping against the keyboard as a half-loaded arcade game blinked across his screen. He wasn't even trying to blend in.
Kiaan stopped at Zid's desk, his tone icy calm.
"Since you're free enough to game here, you won't mind rearranging all these physical intel reports by category, threat level, and international linkage."
He dropped a bundle of files with a heavy thud onto Zid's desk. The sound alone turned a few heads.
Zid looked up casually, then offered a half-smile. "Sure, Captain."
Before Kiaan could respond, his phone buzzed. He picked it up.
"Yes, sir… on my way."
He didn't say another word to Zid and walked off toward the inner chamber of power.
---
Director's Office, 9:05 AM – The Weight of Orders
As Kiaan stepped in, the glass door shut behind him with a muffled click. The atmosphere was colder, tenser.
Director Arvind Bansal, with his greying temples and emotionless jawline, stood beside Joint Director Raghav Kapoor, whose sharp eyes held more warning than warmth today.
They didn't ask Kiaan to sit. That was a sign.
Arvind handed him a thick red-sealed folder with "CASE: WHITE ASH" stamped in urgent black across the front.
"Three murders in England, all in the last five days. Clean kills. No trace. No DNA. No camera footage. All victims were high-ranking officers from the UK's secret service division," Arvind started, voice grave.
Kiaan frowned. "And MI5 couldn't handle it?"
Raghav cut in. "They tried. The files were handed to INTERPOL. INTERPOL couldn't even identify the killer's gender. Now the case has landed at CBI—and from there, to us."
Kiaan's eyes narrowed as he flipped through the crime scene photos. Brutal. Efficient. Almost poetic in execution.
"This is a psychopath who thinks like a ghost," he muttered.
Arvind nodded. "And now we've got a clock ticking. Two weeks."
Kiaan looked up. "Two weeks to catch a ghost who just danced through every intelligence system in Europe?"
"No," Raghav said firmly, stepping forward. "Two weeks to close this case. Either catch the culprit, or erase the trail. The order comes directly from the Ministry of Home Affairs. This isn't a normal briefing, Kiaan. If your team fails… the entire task unit is to be dissolved."
Kiaan stared at the two men, unreadable. Then he quietly said, "Why us?"
"Because," Arvind said slowly, "there is no one above us left to pass the burden to. The Prime Ministry wants it off their records—not just solved, but erased from history."
Raghav added darkly, "And we know only your team can disappear into shadows and bring monsters out by their throats."
A silence followed.
Then Kiaan snapped the folder shut.
"I'll need unrestricted access to the international databases and black archives."
"You have it," Arvind said immediately.
"No bureaucracy in operations. No desk officers stopping us."
"You have it."
"No limit on what tools we use."
"You have it."
Kiaan turned away from the desk, his voice like steel.
"Then we'll bring this ghost down. I don't care who trained them."
As he walked out, his eyes darkened with one single resolve—he had only 14 days to solve what nations had failed to uncover.
And as he returned to the floor, with his usual calm mask, none could tell the storm he was walking straight into.
Except Zid, who watched him return with a subtle smirk—one that looked far too knowing.