Interrogation-A Name without face

The night was thick with tension.

Veer stood at the balcony, eyes scanning the city lights below. The skyline looked peaceful—too peaceful. But he knew better. Somewhere in that maze of streets and shadows, someone had played their hand against them.

And Veer didn't forgive mistakes.

Behind him, Zayan was pacing, still irritated from his earlier attack. "I'm telling you, whoever did this had inside information. No one gets that close to me without a damn good plan."

Rudra, leaning against the bar with his rifle half-cleaned, glanced up. "Then we make them regret it."

Karan cracked his knuckles, staring at the black card they had found. "Already working on it. That emblem? It's not random. Found traces of it in a few high-profile cases—arms deals, disappearances, even a government hack. But no one ever finds out who's behind it."

Zayan smirked. "Lucky for them. Unlucky for us."

Veer finally turned, his presence alone commanding silence. "We don't wait for them to make another move. We strike first."

Karan pulled up a map on his laptop. "I tracked a few unusual transactions linked to that symbol. One location keeps popping up—an underground club in the city. It's exclusive, invite-only, and it's rumored to be a meeting spot for high-level players."

Zayan's grin widened. "A club? Now we're talking."

Rudra rolled his eyes. "We're not going there to party, idiot."

Veer ignored their banter. "We go in silent. We observe. If we find who we're looking for, we take them."

Zayan tossed his jacket over his shoulder. "And if they put up a fight?"

Veer's lips curled into a smirk. "Then we remind them who we are."

---

The Club

The underground club was a world of its own—dim lights, pulsing music, and a crowd filled with people who had too much money and too many secrets.

Karan, dressed in casual black, made his way to the bar, blending in with the crowd. He wasn't just here to drink—his hidden earpiece kept him connected to the others while he worked his magic on his tablet.

Zayan was already causing a scene, leaning against the VIP entrance with a lazy smirk, chatting up a woman who looked both intrigued and wary.

Rudra stood in the shadows, his watchful eyes scanning the crowd, fingers twitching near the blade he always carried.

And Veer?

Veer walked in like he owned the place.

Heads turned as he moved through the club, his sharp gaze missing nothing. He wasn't here to blend in—he was here to be noticed.

And it worked.

A man at the far end of the room stiffened when he saw him. A second too slow, a flicker of fear in his eyes.

Veer caught it.

"Target spotted," Karan murmured in his earpiece.

"Move in," Veer ordered.

The game had begun.

The club was filled with the hum of conversation, the scent of expensive whiskey, and the calculated tension of criminals pretending to be businessmen. But amidst the flashing lights and bass-heavy music, one man stood out.

He was sweating.

Veer had noticed it the moment he walked in. The slight shift in posture. The way his hand hovered near his pocket, as if debating whether to reach for a weapon or a phone. The kind of nervous energy that only came from someone who knew he was prey.

And Veer?

He was the hunter.

"Got eyes on the target," Karan murmured through the earpiece, nursing a drink at the bar. His fingers worked swiftly over his tablet, running a quick trace on the man's recent movements. "Name's Vishal Mehta. Small-time broker. Money launderer. But lately, his bank statements have been screaming something bigger."

"How big?" Rudra asked from the shadows.

Karan smirked. "Let's just say he's been swimming in waters he has no business being in."

Zayan cracked his knuckles. "Time to fish him out."

The four moved seamlessly, their years of working together making their approach effortless. Zayan was the distraction, smoothly stepping in to engage the target with a casual conversation about a nonexistent business deal. Karan ran interference, making sure no unwanted attention was drawn their way. Rudra positioned himself near the exits, ensuring there was no escape.

And Veer?

Veer waited.

He let the target sweat, let him wonder if this was a coincidence or something more. Until finally, when Vishal's nerves reached their peak, Veer stepped forward and spoke—low, steady, undeniable.

"Walk."

Vishal stilled. His throat bobbed. "I—I don't know who you think I am—"

"Walk," Veer repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

And Vishal obeyed.

The club's backroom was soundproof, perfect for private conversations—the kind where no one could hear you scream.

Vishal was shoved into a chair, panting, fear oozing from his pores. His expensive watch clattered against the table as he tried to steady his shaking hands.

"You've been moving a lot of money," Karan said, flipping through his phone as if reading a grocery list. "The kind that makes even corrupt politicians nervous. You're working for someone big, Vishal."

"I—I don't know what you're talking about!"

Rudra exhaled sharply, placing his rifle on the table with a thud. "Wrong answer."

Zayan leaned in with a smirk, tapping a knife against the chair's armrest. "We don't have all night. So let's try this again."

Vishal swallowed hard. "I swear, I don't know her!"

Silence.

Veer's sharp gaze didn't waver. "Her?"

Vishal cursed under his breath, realizing his mistake.

"Who is she?" Veer asked, stepping closer, his voice cold.

Vishal hesitated. Then, in a whisper, he said the name.

"No one knows. We just call her The Empress."

Karan's fingers flew over his keyboard, hacking into secured files, running traces on financial records. But every lead hit a dead end.

No address. No real identity. No photographs.

Whoever The Empress was, she didn't just hide—she erased herself from existence.

"We're dealing with a ghost," Karan muttered, frustration creeping into his voice.

Rudra leaned back, thoughtful. "She's powerful. Not just rich—untouchable. And yet, she's not hiding out of fear. She's hiding because she doesn't want the world to see what she's doing."

"Which means," Veer said, eyes narrowing, "she's doing something the world would burn her for."

Karan's screen flashed. "Got something. Not her, but a trail. There are patterns in shipments, offshore accounts, coded messages. Whatever she's involved in, it's big. And it's hurting people—real people. Common men. The poor. She's not just hoarding wealth. She's running an empire of crime, and she's making sure no one knows."

A heavy silence settled in the room.

Then Zayan grinned, the fire back in his eyes. "Looks like we just found our next mission."

Veer's fingers curled into a fist. His voice was quiet, but the promise in it was lethal.

"We take her down."