Escape

Finally, the day of the escape had arrived. It started as a normal day: Diljeet was chill, Parm was full of anxiety, and Jaga was quiet as always. They began their prison work, and Parm seized the opportunity to get close to Diljeet. In a low, anxious voice, Parm asked, "When are we escaping?"

Diljeet laughed and said, "Today."

"But what time?" Parm pressed, still anxious.

"You don't have to worry about that," Diljeet replied. "Just go to your cell. I will come to get you and Jaga out."

Parm wasn't entirely convinced but decided to trust him. He then asked, "Why do you laugh at everything?"

Diljeet laughed again and said, "We've got only one life, mate, so better live it with a laugh."

After completing their work, a police officer escorted each prisoner back to their cells. Parm was still afraid but returned to his cell with Jaga, holding onto the hope that Diljeet's plan would succeed. Diljeet also returned to his cell. It was 12:30 PM, and he was smoking a cigarette he had hidden. Suddenly, chaos erupted as every policeman in the prison began sprinting towards the main gate.

"Many trucks are coming towards us, and they're all modified to endure bullets!" one officer shouted. The approaching vehicles were monstrous, armored behemoths. They were coated with thick, welded metal shields that glinted menacingly in the sun. The windows were replaced with narrow, reinforced slits, and the back decks had been converted into fortified bunkers with mounted heavy machine guns.

A policeman squinted and yelled, "They have a Khalistan flag! It's Kharku, the militant force! We're under attack by Kharku! Get the guns!"

Panic spread like wildfire. Policemen dashed to the armory, emerging with an arsenal of rifles, shotguns, and automatic weapons. The air was thick with tension and the metallic scent of fear. Officers took up defensive positions on top of the prison walls, their fingers twitching on the triggers, eyes wide with terror and determination.

The head of the police, standing firm amidst the chaos, was about to give the order to fire. His mouth opened, but before he could utter a word, a sniper's bullet pierced his skul blood and brain matter sprayed across the wall, and his body crumpled to the ground like a marionette with its strings cut.

Screams echoed through the prison as the officers realized the brutality of the attack. The trucks roared closer, their engines a deafening cacophony, and the militants began unleashing a relentless hail of bullets, tearing through flesh and bone with merciless precision. It was Labu who shot the police head with a sniper. He was perched on the backside of a truck, a cigar clenched between his teeth, a cruel grin spreading across his face as he watched the chaos unfold. "Kill all those bastards," he snarled, his voice dripping with malice.

The trucks, monstrous armored behemoths, roared towards the prison with a deafening clamor, their machine guns spewing relentless streams of bullets. The militants' advanced weaponry tore through the police force with terrifying efficiency. Policemen screamed as they were mowed down, their bodies riddled with bullets, blood spraying in gruesome arcs.

The trucks, impervious to the police's return fire, smashed through the prison gates with a thunderous crash, sending shards of metal and debris flying. Inside, the scene was a blood-soaked nightmare. Corpses of policemen lay strewn across the ground, twisted and mangled, their lifeless eyes staring blankly into the sky. The air was thick with the stench of gunpowder, blood, and death.

Labu barked orders, his voice booming over the cacophony, "Check for any survivors and finish them off. I'm going to get Diljeet." With another cigar in his mouth and one ready for Diljeet, he strode through the carnage, stepping over bodies without a second glance.

Reaching Diljeet's cell, Labu sneered, "Hey bastard, smoking cheap cigarettes? Here, take this." He handed Diljeet the cigar with a sadistic grin.

Diljeet took the cigar, laughing. "Now open up the cell, man. I'm tired of this solitary."

Labu unlocked the cell with keys he had grabbed from the office. "Let's go," he said, his voice a growl.

"Wait up, we have to free two other guys," Diljeet replied, his tone unyielding.

Labu's face twisted in anger. "I am here for you. I am not bringing any dead weight with me."

Diljeet stepped closer, his eyes cold and hard. "They work for me, and they will come with us. Now give me the keys, Labu."

Labu, seething with rage, threw the keys at Diljeet. He stormed towards Jaga and Parm's cells. Inside, the two brothers clung to each other, terror etched in their faces. Despite this, Jaga glared defiantly at Diljeet, his eyes burning with hatred, while Parm looked at him with a desperate kind of hero worship.

"Time to go," Diljeet said, unlocking their cells.

The brothers stepped out, the prison now a battlefield. The sound of gunfire, the cries of the dying, and the overwhelming scent of blood created a scene of pure horror. As they moved through the devastation, the ground was slick with blood, and the walls were pockmarked with bullet holes. Diljeet led them through the chaos, the taste of freedom mixed with the brutality of their escape.