#25 : DEV SHARMA
Crimson Fangs Temporary War Room – 06:39 HRS
War wasn't a word anymore.
It was a schedule.
The map was alive with red pins, coded signals, tunnel layouts, weapons supply chains, and attack formations. The Ghatkopar Metro Depot—the shadow zone buried under Mumbai's infrastructure—was our entry point.
The First Affiliate's shadow loomed large.
But now?
We were going to knock.
---
Slum District – Sector 9 – 08:12 HRS
The safehouse was built like a corpse.
Rotting walls. Fungal ceilings. A single unmarked room behind a butcher's shop.
Danny and Yash moved through the alley, rain mixing with the sewage under their boots. No backup. No chatter. Just the two of them.
This wasn't a full raid.
It was precision.
A dig for data. Intel. A surgical strike on a node the Serpents had used for months to route messages across the underworld. Inside, they stored everything in human couriers—people trained to memorize fragments and self-destruct if captured.
They were called Silicon Veins.
And they were waiting.
---
Slum Safehouse – 08:21 HRS
Yash kicked in the rusted steel door.
Three figures turned.
Two had curved knives in one hand, small laptops in the other. Wires ran from their arms to the devices—like veins. Data couriers. Modified.
The third was already charging.
Danny stepped forward.
POP—POP—KRAK!
Three shots. Not bullets—custom microshock darts.
They hit the attacker in the ribs. His muscles seized. He dropped, spasming.
One courier lunged at Yash. He ducked under a blade, grabbed the man's shoulder, and hip-threw him through a wall.
The second courier slashed Danny's arm.
Blood.
Danny didn't even flinch.
He drew a short-barreled sonic pistol from his jacket and pressed it to the man's gut.
ZRRRM—BLAM!
The blast collapsed the attacker's insides with a concussive thud. He flew back and hit the fridge—dead.
Yash ducked another slash. The courier reached for a vest under his hoodie—blinking red light.
"Bomb implant!" Danny shouted.
Yash didn't panic. He stepped in fast, locked the man in a standing guillotine choke, and snapped his spine before the man could trigger the charge.
Silence.
Three corpses.
One bleeding from the ears. One folded backward. One missing a rib cage.
Danny checked the laptops.
"Fragmented cache," he muttered. "Encrypted."
Yash tossed him a cloth. "Think it's useful?"
Danny wiped the blood off his goggles. "We'll make it useful."
---
Crimson Fangs Temporary Hideout– Rooftop Sector C – 03:19 HRS
Rain lashed the concrete.
Kiyaan Malik stood alone on the rooftop, eyes scanning the distant city. The wounds from the Serpent attack still throbbed beneath his shirt. His bruised knuckles twitched at every passing wind.
Something felt wrong.
He hadn't called for backup.
He didn't need to.
He felt it.
A shift in the air. A breath where there should be none.
His eyes narrowed.
He turned.
Nothing but shadows.
Until—
CLINK.
A metal glint.
Far corner. By the water tank.
Too slow.
Kiyaan moved.
A blur of motion—no wasted steps.
His hand slammed into the steel wall, pinning something there.
A wrist.
A hand.
A man.
Dressed in black. Face masked. Eyes wide in shock.
"Thought I wouldn't notice?" Kiyaan growled.
The man tried to twist free, but Kiyaan ripped the knife from the attacker's belt and hurled it off the roof.
"You're bleeding into my house," he said, voice cold as steel. "That's mistake number one."
The assassin pulled another blade with his free hand—shorter. Slick.
He slashed at Kiyaan's arm.
Kiyaan stepped back just enough to dodge it, then headbutted the man square in the nose.
The mask cracked.
The assassin stumbled, blood streaming.
He tried to run.
Kiyaan tackled him into the rooftop gravel, his knee crushing the man's shoulder blade.
"Try again," he whispered.
The assassin writhed.
Then reached toward his boot.
Kiyaan stepped on the ankle—crunch—and disarmed a hidden syringe.
"Poison?"
"Insurance," the man spat.
Kiyaan crouched low.
"Who sent you?"
The man coughed blood. "You already know."
"The First Affiliate?"
No answer.
Kiyaan twisted the wrist sharply—pop.
The man screamed.
Still silence.
"You're not a scout," Kiyaan said softly. "You're a messenger."
Then he leaned in. "So deliver it."
Finally, the assassin met his eyes.
And whispered:
"Dev Sharma."
Kiyaan froze.
Like a ghost had touched his spine.
But before he could react—
The man's eyes rolled back.
He bit down hard.
KRRK—TSSSSSS.
A hiss from his jaw.
Cyanide capsule.
Too late to stop it.
Kiyaan stared as foam spilled from the man's lips.
Body convulsing.
Dead in seconds.
Just like that.
He stood slowly.
Breathing heavy.
The storm raged around him.
And in his mind—
One name echoed like thunder:
Dev Sharma.
A man long dead.
A ghost from another war.
A shadow that just became real.
---
Crimson Fangs Archive Room – 10:03 HRS
Vijay was sorting through old files we had recovered from Agnidwar, double-checking serial numbers and USB logs when something strange blinked at him.
A small encrypted drive.
Not part of the rest.
Label: FOR AMIT
He paused.
"Meena!" he called out. "Get Amit. Now."
---
Crimson Fangs Main Room – 10:13 HRS
I stared at the file.
It shouldn't exist.
Dev Sharma.
He was my father's partner.
The man who was supposed to be dead.
The man who was dead—according to every file, every witness.
And now he'd left me a message?
I connected the drive to the isolated system.
The screen blinked.
Then a video played.
Grainy. Old.
But unmistakably him.
The salt-and-pepper hair. The scar above his brow. The cold steel in his voice.
"Amit... if you're seeing this, then the First Affiliate is already watching you."
I leaned in.
Silence.
Then his voice changed—sharper.
"You can't trust the system. Not even the Fangs. The First Affiliate isn't just an organization..."
A pause.
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"It's a replacement. For everything. Government. Police. Underworld. Control through chaos."
Static buzzed.
Then one final line before the feed cut:
"Find me before they do. Or bury me again. Junction 13. That's where it begins."
---
Temporary War Room – 10:32 HRS
I stood before the team.
Vijay. Meena. Yash. Danny. Rudra.
All of them waiting.
"Dev Sharma is alive," I said.
Gasps. Confusion.
"But if he's telling the truth, he's inside the First Affiliate. Deep inside."
Meena stood. "Then we're not just breaking into Ghatkopar…"
Yash clenched his fists. "We're pulling someone out."
Danny loaded a mag into one of his prototype rifles. "Hope he's worth the trouble."
Rudra adjusted his jacket.
"He better be."
I looked at the blinking dot on the map.
Ghatkopar.
Junction 13.
Whatever waited there—
It wasn't just a battle.
It was answers.
It was truth.
And maybe, finally—
It was revolution.
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TO BE CONTINUED
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