Location: Secret Agents HQ, 10:03 AM – The Order
The room, once filled with the low hum of computers and casual banter, snapped into full silence the moment Kiaan's boot tapped the center floor. His voice didn't roar, but the weight in it dropped like thunder.
"Everyone. Attention."
Four heads turned—Tara spun in her chair, Rehaan stopped sipping his energy drink mid-gulp, Dev paused mid-scroll, and Zid raised an eyebrow from behind the file Kiaan had earlier dumped on him.
"We have a case," Kiaan announced, placing a thick folder marked with a bright red tag that read: HIGH ALERT – OPERATION WHITE ASH on the table in front of them.
"A murder case. One that's been dancing through three intelligence systems and still hasn't been solved. And now, it's ours."
Tara's eyes widened, her posture sharpening.
"From today onwards—no breaks, no free time, no early leave. Got it?" he added, cutting his eyes toward Dev.
Dev's shoulders slumped instantly. "What—no weekends, too?" he whispered under his breath.
Rehaan smirked and leaned close to Dev. "Say goodbye to your dating apps, lover boy. This case is gonna eat us alive."
Dev groaned dramatically. "Why can't murderers be considerate and operate on weekdays only?"
Kiaan ignored the murmuring, his tone becoming razor-sharp.
"This is not a request. It's an order. We've been handed a case that every other agency has failed to crack. And if we don't solve this in two weeks—we're done. Team dismissed. HQ dismantled. Jobs over. Lives changed. Is that clear?"
Everyone quieted.
Tara nodded first, her expression solemn. "Clear."
Rehaan gave a salute, "Let's catch this ghost."
Dev muttered, "Clear as black coffee…"
Zid simply nodded, fingers tapping the edge of the file slowly. Watching. Processing.
Kiaan began giving orders like a general preparing for war.
"Tara—track every single CCTV camera footage from England in the areas the murders took place. I don't care if it's grainy or outdated. I want everything—public cameras, private ones, street lights, even gas station footage. Especially the blind spots—places where people usually don't look. The killer hides where no one pays attention."
Tara immediately flipped open her laptop. "On it."
"Rehaan," Kiaan turned next. "You'll go to MI5 headquarters. Use our tags. Talk to the officers who were on this case before it reached us. Get access to their investigation files, internal doubts, theories, scraps of clues—even the ones they brushed aside."
Rehaan cracked his knuckles. "Time to bother some Brits."
"Dev," Kiaan pointed, "you'll go straight to the England Police Department—London branch. Ask for detailed autopsy reports, ground-level observations, scene photos that never made it to the central system. I want the emotional tone of the investigation. The vibe on-ground."
Dev sighed, then straightened up. "Fine. But I'm bringing back biscuits."
Everyone chuckled lightly, except Kiaan—he wasn't done yet.
Then he turned to Zid.
Kiaan walked slowly over to Zid's desk, dropped a separate bundle of classified files beside him.
"These are detailed records of the victims, the crime scenes, the timeline, and the murder patterns. Read them thoroughly. I want a psychological profile. You're military-trained, sniper-certified. Tell me what kind of killer we're dealing with—and how to beat him."
Zid leaned back in his chair, lifting the folder with measured hands. "Consider it done, Captain."
Kiaan nodded once, then without another word, walked out of the war room, the echo of his boots trailing behind him like a gun trigger pulled.
---
In his absence, the four sat quietly for a moment—then Rehaan whistled low. "Man's in full war-mode."
Tara didn't lift her eyes from the screen. "He has to be. This isn't just a case. It's our survival."
Zid flipped the file open, scanning the pictures. His eyes lingered on the crime scenes—unblinking.
Dev leaned close to Rehaan and whispered, "Do you think he suspects Zid?"
Rehaan whispered back, "He suspects everyone."
And for a second, Zid's lips curved into something faint. Almost like… a smirk.