Delhi, 2:30 a.m. The streets were silent, except for the occasional growl of a passing truck. A man walked down Connaught Place like he owned the city. Crisp black jacket, casual jeans, shoes that didn't squeak on concrete, and a faint smirk that said, I don't run from danger; danger runs from me.
That man was Nikhil.
To anyone watching, he looked like just another young guy with a gym subscription and confidence issues that didn't exist. But behind those calm eyes, the kind that could silence a room, was a mind so sharp even AI would get nervous.
At 5'11", broad shoulders, and a physique that made even mannequins jealous, Nikhil wasn't born special—he built himself that way. With discipline, relentless curiosity, and a dangerous mix of intelligence and charm. His real power? Talking skills and a brain wired for problem-solving. He could talk a bomb into disarming itself if it had ears.
He wasn't a soldier. Not a spy in the official sense either. He was… something else. A freelancer for the government when things got really messy. The kind of man called when the country needed a miracle.
And tonight, India needed more than a miracle.
PART ONE – A CALL AT MIDNIGHT
Nikhil's phone buzzed as he sat in a 24-hour café near CP, sipping black coffee like a man on a first-name basis with caffeine. He didn't answer right away—he never did. If it was important, they'd call again.
It rang. Again.
He sighed, picked it up, and said in his usual calm tone,
"Talk fast. I charge extra after midnight."
The voice on the other end was low but urgent.
"Code Indigo. Immediate extraction point: Safdarjung Airstrip. Mission profile will be briefed in the air."
Nikhil tilted his head. Code Indigo. The last time he heard that, a foreign arms dealer vanished into thin air, and three intelligence heads resigned overnight.
He smirked.
"Looks like my weekend just got interesting."
THE ARRIVAL
Thirty minutes later, Nikhil was at the private strip. The wind whipped against his jacket as a sleek black helicopter roared in the distance. Two men in black suits approached him. Their posture screamed 'government,' their eyes screamed 'don't ask questions.'
"Mr. Nikhil," one said, "thank you for coming."
"I didn't come," Nikhil replied, stepping past them. "I was summoned. Big difference."
The man blinked, unsure if that was sarcasm or dominance. (Spoiler: It was both.)
Inside the helicopter sat Aditi, the intelligence officer he had worked with before. Mid-20s, sharp eyes behind minimal makeup, formal outfit, and the kind of aura that said she could either decode a terrorist network or ruin your ego in five sentences.
"Nikhil," she greeted, sliding a file across the table in the chopper.
"Aditi." He gave her a half-smile. "Still working late nights to keep the country safe… or to avoid Netflix recommendations?"
She rolled her eyes. "Always the comedian. Read the file."
THE THREAT
The file was thin—too thin. Which meant the real details were scarier than the paper.
Summary:
A private research firm in Mumbai was attacked last night.
Not for money, not for data theft.
The attackers left behind zero footprints.
The firm had been working on something called Project Raavan—classified under national security.
"What's Project Raavan?" Nikhil asked.
Aditi hesitated. "AI-based defense automation system. The kind that can control drone fleets, intercept missiles… basically, turn the tide in any war."
Nikhil let out a low whistle. "So if that tech leaks, the enemy doesn't need soldiers—they just need Wi-Fi."
"Exactly," Aditi said. "And the worst part? We think the leak came from inside. Someone high up. A traitor."
Nikhil leaned back, eyes narrowing. "So this is an inside job… and you want me to go fishing."
"Not fishing," Aditi corrected. "Hunting."
He grinned. "Same thing. Just bigger bait."
PART TWO – MUMBAI CHAOS
Fast-forward to Mumbai. The city never slept, and neither did danger. Nikhil checked into a luxury hotel—not because he liked fancy things, but because it was the perfect place to meet someone without raising suspicion.
Aditi was already there, pretending to scroll through her phone in the lobby. She wore a simple blue kurta this time—professional but casual. Nikhil walked over like a man who had nothing to hide, which was ironic considering he was about to infiltrate a corporate building guarded like Fort Knox.
"You know," he said casually, "if we keep meeting in hotels, people will start talking."
Aditi didn't even look up. "People already talk. You're the one who likes attention."
Nikhil grinned. "Only from the right people."
She shot him a glare that could kill a weaker man. He loved it.
THE INFILTRATION
The research firm—Zenith Technologies—sat in the heart of Mumbai's corporate hub. Glass walls, biometric scanners, armed guards… and a secret worth more than a billion dollars.
Nikhil went in disguised as an IT consultant. (Pro tip: Nobody questions an IT guy if he walks in with confidence and a laptop.) His cover? He was there to "fix a network vulnerability." The irony made him chuckle.
Once inside, he plugged a tiny device into the server hub. Aditi's voice crackled in his earpiece.
"You have 10 minutes before they flag the breach."
"Ten minutes?" Nikhil whispered, pretending to check wires. "That's more time than I need to win a debate on Twitter."
Data started downloading. Everything looked smooth—until an alarm blared.
"Unauthorized access detected."
"Well," Nikhil muttered, "guess I spoke too soon."
CHASE THROUGH THE CITY
What followed was pure chaos. Nikhil sprinted through hallways, vaulted over a security gate, and dove into the Mumbai night. Guards chased, bullets flew, and Nikhil did what he did best—turn the city into his playground.
He stole a bike, zipped through traffic like a Bollywood stunt scene, and cracked jokes to himself mid-chase.
"Helmet saves lives, but tonight… speed saves missions."
Aditi guided him over comms.
"Left turn ahead. And Nikhil—don't die."
"Not planning to," he replied, swerving past a fruit cart. "I still have a lot of Instagram reels to post."
THE REVEAL
Back at the safehouse, Nikhil scanned the stolen data. His jaw tightened as the pieces clicked together.
"This isn't about Project Raavan alone," he said slowly. "They're planning something bigger. This was just the appetizer."
Aditi frowned. "What do you mean?"
He looked up, eyes dark with certainty.
"I mean… we're dealing with someone who knows every move before we make it. Someone on the inside. Someone who calls themselves…"
The screen flashed a single name:
SPECTER
Nikhil smirked. "Well, looks like the game just got interesting."