Devil strikes

The safehouse was a cramped, single-room flat with peeling walls and a single flickering bulb. A rusted ceiling fan spun lazily, failing to push the humid Karachi air. Surya didn't care. He had slept in worse places. He locked the door, closed the grimy curtains, and got to work.

He unzipped the duffel bag Shadow had provided, laying out the contents methodically on the rickety wooden table.

**Gear:**

- **Suppressed pistol** – Standard-issue, compact, and deadly at close range.

- **Combat knife** – Razor-sharp, balanced for both slashing and throwing.

- **Disguise set** – Local clothes, a taqiyah cap, and a fake beard to blend in.

- **Burner phone** – Preloaded with an encrypted line for emergency contact.

Surya picked up the pistol, checking the weight. The grip felt familiar, comforting. He chambered a round, suppressor already attached. No room for mistakes.

Next, he spread out a hand-drawn map of the **Shershah Industrial Area**—sketched from Shadow's intel. He marked key locations:

- **Raza Khan's safehouse** – A three-story warehouse with a rooftop escape.

- **Tea stall** – Where Raza Khan stopped every night.

- **Ambush site** – A narrow alleyway near the tea stall, where visibility was limited but escape routes were plenty.

- **Exit points** – Two possible routes:

1. **Rooftop escape** – Jumping across buildings leading to the old market.

2. **Seaside dock** – A longer route but covered in shadows, leading to a boat Shadow had arranged.

Surya closed his eyes, committing every detail to memory. He had done this countless times before. Kill, vanish, repeat.

But this was different. This was his second chance.

---

The morning sun streamed through the cracks in the curtains, casting faint lines of light on the floor. Surya woke up early, his body accustomed to discipline. He dressed quickly, ensuring his disguise was perfect. Today, he wasn't a trained assassin; he was just another face in Karachi's crowded streets.

At a small café near the port, he met **Shadow** and two local handlers—**Rahim** and **Farooq**. Both were experienced field operatives, their expressions neutral, but their eyes filled with calculation. They sat at a corner table, speaking in hushed tones over steaming cups of chai.

Shadow tapped the table lightly. "Everything is in place. Raza Khan follows the same routine. But there's a slight complication."

Surya raised an eyebrow. "What kind?"

Farooq leaned in. "Khan has been more cautious lately. He's been switching his routes at random. He still stops at the tea stall, but the timing fluctuates by fifteen to twenty minutes."

"So we adapt," Surya said, unfazed. "We use the tea stall as the main kill zone, but I need eyes on him from the safehouse to the stall. Any irregularities, and I abort."

Rahim nodded. "I'll handle surveillance near the safehouse. If there's a change, I'll signal. You'll have a clean shot from the alley regardless."

Shadow slid a small earpiece across the table. "Use this for coordination. Once the job is done, disappear immediately. No second chances."

Surya took the earpiece and placed it in his pocket. He finished his chai, stood up, and adjusted his disguise. "Tonight, Raza Khan dies."

The three men exchanged nods, understanding the gravity of the mission.

As Surya walked out into the crowded streets of Karachi, his mind was clear.

The Unknown Gunman was ready to strike.

---

The night air was thick with tension. Surya crouched in the shadows of a narrow alleyway, his earpiece crackling softly.

"Rahim here. No changes in the route yet. Stand by."

Surya flexed his fingers, his suppressed pistol resting lightly in his grip. His eyes scanned the dimly lit streets, waiting.

One hour passed. The wait was agonizing, but patience was a virtue in his line of work.

Then, Rahim's voice came through. "Target spotted. Confirming visual. Raza Khan approaching the tea stall. Stick to the plan."

Surya's muscles tensed. He watched as a group of men strolled into the marketplace, one of them exuding authority—the man he had come to kill.

Raza Khan.

The time had come.

Surya exhaled slowly, his grip steady. As Raza Khan neared the tea stall, his guards were relaxed, unaware of the impending strike. Surya adjusted his aim, aligning the crosshairs with Khan's chest.

A single, muffled shot.

Raza Khan jerked forward as the bullet tore through him. His body stiffened before collapsing onto the ground. His guards froze for a split second, then chaos erupted. People screamed. The guards scrambled, searching for the shooter.

Surya was already gone, slipping into the shadows, blending with the night.

This was his first kill as the Unknown Gunman. The legend had just begun.