Chapter 1
The 4K resolution of the monitor was so crisp that Abhimanyu could see the grease smudge on Kunal's forehead. Behind his younger brother, the sleek, carbon-fiber skeleton of a prototype supercar sat under the glowing LEDs of a Seattle workshop.
"Just finished the custom aero-kit for the new V12, Bhai," Kunal said, wiping his hands on a rag. He looked tired but energized. "It's the most expensive modification this company has ever cleared for a private client. I used that 'stress-point' theory you mentioned about bridge demolition. It worked perfectly for the chassis reinforcement."
Abhimanyu leaned into the camera, a rare, relaxed grin on his face. "Using military demolition logic to build a luxury car? Only you would think of that, Kunal."
"Hey, it's all about precision and speed, right? That's our way," Kunal laughed. "Speaking of speed, Papa and Ma are on their way over. We're going to that vegan bistro downtown to celebrate the launch. Sona is also busy these days. So she won't be joining us. You sure you can't stay on for another twenty minutes?"
"I'll try, but-" Abhimanyu started.
"He better stay," his mother's voice came from off-screen as she entered the frame, looking elegant in a light trench coat. "Duggu, Kunal is the lead designer now! From modifying toy cars in the backyard to the biggest brand in whole USA... I just wish you were both here to share the cake."
"I'm there in spirit, Ma," Abhimanyu said softly. The contrast was sharp: Kunal was surrounded by million-dollar engineering and the smell of expensive leather; Abhimanyu was sitting on a hard cot surrounded by the smell of gun oil and rain.
TRRI-TRRI-TRRI.
The vibration of the satellite phone didn't just make a sound; it seemed to change the very temperature of the room. The crimson LED began to pulse, casting a blood-red light over Abhimanyu's face.
The celebration on the other side of the world stopped instantly. Kunal, who lived his life around high-performance alarms, knew this specific tone was different. It wasn't a mechanical failure; it was a human emergency.
"Red Light," Kunal whispered, his professional pride as an engineer replaced by the raw fear of a younger brother.
"Mission call," Abhimanyu confirmed. The warmth vanished from his eyes, replaced by the 'Target-Acquired' focus that made him the NSG's finest.
"Duggu, please..." his mother started, her hand reaching toward the screen as if she could pull him out of the barracks.
"Naira, don't," his father said, his voice cracking but firm as he stepped into the frame, putting a supportive arm around her. "He has his orders. Abhi, go. Kunal's car can wait. The country can't."
Kunal stood up straight, mirroring his brother's discipline. "The V12 will be waiting for you to test drive when you get back, Bhai. That's a promise. Don't let a single scratch get on you."
"Copy that," Abhimanyu said, his hand already on the laptop lid. "Kunal, keep the family safe. I'll see you in the mirrors."
Snap.
The screen went black. Abhimanyu didn't look back at the dark monitor. He reached for his black tactical balaclava, pulling it over his head. The eldest Goenka son was gone. The Black Cat was out of the bag.
The rain in Manesar had turned into a torrential downpour, drumming against the corrugated metal roof of Hangar 4 like a thousand war drums. Abhimanyu strode through the darkness, the heavy soles of his tactical boots echoing against the concrete.
As he stepped into the pool of harsh halogen light, his team was already there. They were his second family-the ones who shared his blood not by birth, but by the dirt of the training grounds and the smoke of the battlefield.
"Look who finally decided to join the party," a voice rasped.
That was Vikram, the team's lead sniper. He was leaning against a crate of ammunition, casually cleaning the lens of his long-range scope. He was the only one allowed to joke with Abhimanyu. To everyone else, Abhimanyu was a statue; to Vikram, he was the guy who once shared a single bottle of water in a 48-hour desert ambush.
"Family call ran long?" Vikram asked, his eyes sharp and knowing. He didn't wait for an answer. He saw the slight stiffness in Abhimanyu's jaw-the "Goenka Guilt"-and nodded toward the center of the hangar.
"The briefing just came in," said Zaid, the youngest of the group and their tech specialist. He was hovering over a ruggedized tablet, his face lit by the blue glow of a satellite map. "It's a high-value target extraction. Urban environment. Tight corners. The kind of mess only we get called to clean up."
Abhimanyu stepped into the circle, his presence instantly pulling the scattered energy of the room into a single, focused point. He looked at his men-Vikram, Zaid, and the others.
"Check your gear," Abhimanyu commanded, his voice cutting through the sound of the rain. "I want primary and secondary weapons double-checked.
.
.
.
.
.
.
"If you enjoyed this chapter, don't forget to hit the little star and leave a comment. It helps the story grow!"
