#30 : THE WIND IS CALM.

Ghatkopar Underground – 03:03 HRS

The tunnels still smelled like smoke and metal.

Ash clung to the walls. Blood pooled in the cracks. Somewhere in the distance, a pipe hissed from the earlier collapse. Flickering red emergency lights painted everything in warning.

And yet…

We were still standing.

Just barely.

The Crimson Fangs regrouped in what used to be a maintenance office—barely big enough for all of us, the ceiling hanging crooked, the air thick with the stench of sweat, blood, and concrete dust.

Meena's left shoulder was wrapped in a torn sleeve soaked with antiseptic. Yash had a gash above his eyebrow, still bleeding into his eye, but he didn't blink. Vijay leaned against the wall, tired. Danny was hunched over a map, burned fingers trembling as he tried to type coordinates into a half-scorched terminal.

And Rudra...

Rudra sat in the corner, silent, surrounded by a pile of dead Serpent guards he had personally broken through to reach us. His knuckles were raw. His expression—empty.

Kiyaan stood by the shattered window, gazing out into the ruins of the tunnel. He wasn't bleeding much. But his hands wouldn't stop shaking.

I looked at each of them.

Warriors.

Wounded.

Not just from the body.

But the soul.

No one said it.

But we all felt it.

This wasn't just an enemy.

This was something deeper.

Twisted.

Something that changed us with every second we breathed in this place.

"They're not just insane," Meena finally muttered. "They're... infected. Like the system rewired them."

Danny wiped his goggles clean, his voice hoarse. "I've seen death. But this?" He looked up at me. "This was joy. They were enjoying it."

Yash lit a cigarette with blood-caked fingers. He didn't smoke it. Just let it burn between his lips.

"We're not done, are we?" Vijay asked, voice low.

"No," I said. "This wasn't the stronghold. Just a node."

That's when Kiyaan finally turned.

And the silence shifted.

"Tell me something, Amit."

His voice was calm.

Too calm.

"Are we still the good guys?"

Everyone froze.

Even Rudra looked up.

"Because tonight… I killed a man who laughed while carving gang signs into his own face." Kiyaan's voice trembled beneath the calm. "And when I broke his jaw, I didn't feel anything. Not anger. Not guilt. Nothing."

He looked at his hands.

Flexed them.

"I was fighting for my fallen comrades."

"But now I'm starting to think Mumbai needs to burn."

I didn't answer.

I couldn't.

Because for a moment, I agreed.

And that scared me.

---

Later That Day – Abandoned Suburbs – 17:19 HRS

I stood outside a broken house.

My old house.

The place where I used to count cracks on the ceiling. Where my mother made tea on Sunday mornings. Where my father sat at the kitchen table, going over reports he never let me read.

Now?

It was cracked open. Like the city had forgotten it even existed.

The walls were half-torn, crushed by nearby construction. The roof sagged like it was tired of remembering.

But the photo frame was still there.

Lying under dust, in the ruins of what used to be our living room.

I picked it up.

Brushed the glass with my sleeve.

Dad.

In uniform.

Smiling like he believed in something.

Karan Rathore.

The last man who stood tall when everyone else bent.

I looked into his eyes.

And whispered:

"You were right."

The silence lingered.

But I didn't cry.

I couldn't.

Not anymore.

"But I can't be you."

"I need to be more."

---

Days Later

Meena ran drills in a warehouse basement, her injured shoulder wrapped tight. She reloaded pistols blindfolded, over and over, until her fingers bled.

Vijay trained with Rudra—blunt-force and tactical precision. They didn't speak. Just moved like soldiers possessed. Every time Vijay dropped, Rudra pulled him up. Again. Again. Again.

Danny built. Rebuilt. Modified. His new prototype wasn't sleek. It was vicious. A weapon designed not just to break armor—but to send a message.

Kiyaan stood on a rooftop, eyes scanning the city like a hawk ready to swoop. He didn't speak to anyone. But each night, his fists hit harder. His silence deepened. His resolve sharpened into something terrifying.

And me?

I returned to the old training room my father used.

Wrapped my fists the way he taught me.

I stared into the mirror.

Saw a face that wasn't mine anymore.

Saw the weight in my own eyes.

And I said:

"No more running."

---

Crimson Fangs Hideout – 03:12 HRS

The war board had changed.

No longer red pins of threat.

Now?

Blue markers.

One for each route.

Each resource.

Each remaining ally.

A single phrase underlined at the top of the board:

Final Assault – Phase Zero

I looked at the team gathered around.

No speeches.

No inspiration.

Just eyes.

Hard.

Ready.

Kiyaan looked at me.

No smile.

But a nod.

And that was enough.

The Serpents wanted chaos.

But we weren't chaos anymore.

We were clarity.

We were fire given shape.

And this city?

It was about to feel us.

---

TO BE CONTINUED