karachi

Gujarat Port, October 7, 2014

The salty sea breeze mixed with the scent of diesel and fish as Surya stepped onto the bustling docks of Mundra Port. Cargo containers were being loaded and unloaded, and the distant horns of departing ships echoed across the bay. His forged identity as an arms dealer's courier had passed inspection, and now he had to board the Vikrant Voyager, a cargo ship bound for Karachi.

The voyage across the Arabian Sea was uneventful but tense. Surya kept to himself, avoiding unnecessary interactions with the crew. He spent his time studying his mission details, memorizing Karachi's layout, and refining his escape routes. Every hour that passed brought him closer to enemy territory.

On the third night, the ship anchored at Karachi Port under the cover of darkness. As he disembarked, he spotted a lone auto-rickshaw idling outside the port gates. The driver—a man with sharp eyes and a heavy accent—gestured for him to enter.

As Surya slid into the back seat, the driver glanced at him through the rearview mirror.

"Welcome to Karachi, Phantom," he said. "Your war begins now."

Surya exhaled slowly. He had made it.

The auto-rickshaw weaved through the dimly lit streets of Karachi, moving with precision through the bustling late-night traffic. Surya kept his posture relaxed, but his eyes scanned every alley, every intersection, every shadow that could conceal an enemy. His instincts from his past life warned him—he was deep in hostile territory.

After a tense thirty-minute ride, the rickshaw pulled into a quiet, unassuming neighborhood. The driver didn't say a word as Surya stepped out. Instead, he gave a single nod before speeding away into the night. Standing nearby, leaning against a parked bike, was Shadow—his handler for the mission.

"Welcome to Karachi," Shadow muttered as he handed Surya a helmet. Without another word, Surya got on the back of the bike, and they sped off through the darkened streets, weaving between traffic like ghosts in the night. After several minutes, they stopped at a small, run-down apartment complex. Shadow led him inside, locking the door behind them.

"Phantom," Shadow greeted formally as he sat down at a table cluttered with files and a half-eaten meal. "Let's get straight to business."

Surya nodded, stepping forward as Shadow slid a thick file across the table. He opened it, scanning the detailed information inside.

Target: Raza Khan

Affiliation: ISI Operative, Lashkar-e-Taiba Trainer

Location: Karachi Safehouse – Shershah Industrial Area

"Raza Khan is a ghost," Shadow continued. "No social media, no digital footprint, and he rarely stays in one place for too long. But our sources confirmed his presence in a safehouse in Shershah Industrial Area for the past week. He's here to oversee a batch of fresh recruits before they're sent for training in PoK."

Surya flipped through the pages, analyzing the photographs and surveillance reports. "What's his routine?" he asked.

Shadow leaned forward, tapping a grainy photograph of Raza Khan stepping out of an armored SUV. "He starts his day at 0500 hours, training recruits at an abandoned warehouse nearby. He spends most of the day inside the safehouse, reviewing intel and coordinating with his handlers in Islamabad. But here's the key—his most vulnerable point comes at 2230 hours."

Surya's eyes narrowed. "Explain."

"At 2230 hours, he leaves the safehouse for his personal prayers at a small mosque two blocks away. However, an ambush there would be too risky. This is his area; he knows every alley and escape route."

Shadow tapped another location on the map. "Instead, we strike after he returns. He stops at a small tea stall before heading back. No guards, no caution—just him and his evening routine. That's when he's truly vulnerable."

Surya studied the map carefully. The tea stall was near an old marketplace with multiple entry and exit points. A sniper kill could be an option, but a close-quarter hit ensured the job was done cleanly.

Shadow slid a key across the table. "Your gear is stashed in a safehouse nearby. Suppressed pistol, combat knife, and a change of clothes to blend in. No fancy gadgets, no backups. You go in, you take the shot, and you disappear."

Surya closed the file and looked up. "And extraction?"

Shadow smirked. "You're the Unknown Gunman now. You figure it out."

Surya exhaled, his mind already mapping out the mission. The plan was simple—but simplicity often bred unpredictability. He would have one shot, and he wouldn't waste it.

As he stood, Shadow's voice turned cold. "One last thing, Phantom."

Surya met his gaze.

"If you get caught… RAW will disavow you."

Surya's lips curled into a smirk. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

He stepped into the Karachi night, knowing that by this time tomorrow, Raza Khan would be dead.