The air in Mumbai was thick with the scent of rain-drenched jasmine and salt, a heavy, humid blanket that settled over the city on a quiet Sunday morning. For Arjun, the stillness was a deception. He crouched on the narrow ledge of a neighboring building, his eyes fixed on the Sharma residence. In his tactical vest, he felt the cold weight of a specialized cloner he had acquired from an old contact in the Silverhound syndicate—a man who dealt in the kind of illegal, high-end tech that shouldn't exist in the civilian world. This device was a masterpiece of illicit engineering, designed for one purpose: ripping encrypted data from high-security biometric.
This mission was their last hope. If Arjun failed today, the trail would go cold. The Horns would tighten their security, the Level 5 Master Access Key would be moved to a more secure location, and the truth about Diya's death would be buried forever beneath the glass and steel of the P.R.I.S.M. tower.
The day had provided a stroke of unexpected luck—or perhaps a final gift from fate. Because it was Sunday, Priya's father was home, but a morning trip to the local shopping district had cleared the house of Priya and her mother. Mr. Agrawal had stayed behind, choosing to spend his rare day off relaxing in the living room.
Following the plan they had spent hours refining, Arjun moved. He slipped from the ledge, his body a fluid shadow against the concrete, and navigated the back alley of the complex. He reached the rear of the house, where a small kitchen window sat slightly ajar to let in the morning breeze. With the practiced precision of a ghost, he slid the window open just wide enough to slip through, landing on the tiled floor with no more sound than a falling leaf.
Outside, stationed at opposite ends of the street, Rudra and Raj stood watch. They were the early warning system, disguised as loiterers in the quiet neighborhood, their hearts hammering in sync with the distant thrum of the city.
Inside, Arjun began his inspection. He could hear the muffled, rhythmic sounds of an old movie coming from the living room—the rise and fall of dramatic dialogue and orchestral swells. Mr. Agrawal was right there, separated from Arjun by a single hallway and a thin layer of plaster.
''The key should be in his bedroom or the living room,' Arjun thought, his mind working with the cold logic of an assassin. He decided to search the bedroom first, knowing that a security expert like Agrawal would likely keep his most sensitive equipment close to where he slept. He moved into the master suite, his hands blurring as he checked every conceivable hiding spot: the undersides of drawers, the pockets of hanging suits, and the backs of picture frames. He searched every corner, but the room was empty of the prize.
As Arjun stood in the center of the silent bedroom, a low, guttural vibration began to thrum through the floorboards. It wasn't the sound of the house; it was a frequency born of something ancient and hungry. Outside, the Sunday peace was shattered by a sudden, jagged ocean of screams that flooded the nearby streets.
Rudra, leaning against a lamp post two blocks away, felt his phone buzz violently in his pocket. It was a local emergency alert. [Rank C Monster spotted in Sector 4.]
'It seems a monster has appeared,' Rudra thought, his jaw tightening. 'What a bad time.'.
He couldn't stay. If the monster reached this block, the police and emergency response teams would swarm the area, trapping Arjun inside the house. Rudra looked at Raj, signaled a quick warning, and sprinted toward the direction of the noises.
Inside the house, the screams outside seemed to sharpen Arjun's focus. He retreated from the bedroom and scanned the hallway. His eyes settled on a heavy, ornate cabaret—a piece of furniture that felt slightly out of place in the modern home. He ran his fingers along the underside of the mahogany trim until he felt a small, mechanical catch.
Click.
A false panel at the back of the cabaret slid open. There, tucked into a velvet-lined slot, was the Level 5 Master Access Key. It was a sleek, metallic card that seemed to hum with the weight of the secrets it held.
Without wasting a second, Arjun pulled the cloning machine and his laptop from his tactical bag. He inserted the key into the machine, and the screen flickered to life.
[INITIALIZING ENCRYPTION BYPASS... 0%]
The laptop indicated the process would take at least five minutes to completely copy the Level 5 biometric data. Arjun sat on the floor, his back against the wall, staring at the progress bar with unblinking eyes. Every second felt like an hour.
The progress bar hit '45%' when Arjun heard a faint noise—a soft, padding sound coming from the kitchen. He whipped his head around, his hand instinctively reaching for the blade at his waist.
A small, ginger cat trotted into the room, its tail held high as it inspected the intruder.
'It's just a cat,' Arjun thought, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. It moved around the bedroom with an air of absolute authority, as if it owned the house—which, as a family pet, it likely did.
Arjun watched as the cat leaped onto the bedside table. His heart started thumping faster, a cold sweat breaking out on his neck as he saw the animal begin to bat playfully at a heavy table lamp.
'No, no, you don't...' Arjun prayed, his hands hovering as if he could catch the air itself.
But luck was not on his side. The cat gave the lamp one final, curious shove, and it fell hard against the floor, shattering the ceramic base with a sharp, deafening noise that echoed through the entire house.
Downstairs, the sound of the movie cut off instantly. "Who's there?" Priya's dad shouted, his voice filled with alert suspicion. Arjun could hear the heavy footsteps of the man moving toward the stairs.
Arjun grabbed his microphone. "Hey, Priya's dad is coming up!" he hissed to Raj. "Do something!".
Raj, standing on the sidewalk, felt a wave of pure panic. "What can I do?!" he whispered back, his voice cracking.
"Do something!!" Arjun shouted through the comms, the progress bar on the laptop sitting at a agonizing '88%'.
As Mr. Agrawal was about to reach the second-floor landing, a loud, insistent knock echoed from the front door. He stopped, confused, and turned back to check who had come to the house on a Sunday afternoon.
When he opened the door, he found Raj standing there, looking breathless and terrified.
"Is Priya here?" Raj asked, the fear in his voice entirely real, though for a very different reason than Mr. Agrawal assumed.
"No, she's not here. Come back after a while," Mr. Agrawal replied, his irritation growing.
Raj, desperate to buy Arjun even a few more seconds, launched into a frantic, awkward conversation. "So... when will she be back?". He began to ask a string of random, nonsensical questions: "Where did she go?", "Why are you alone?", and finally, in a fit of absolute desperation, "Do you think the egg came first, or the chicken?".
Mr. Agrawal stared at the boy, the irritation on his face now bordering on total disbelief. "What is wrong with you?" he muttered, before abruptly shutting the door in Raj's face.
Mr. Agrawal turned back toward the stairs, remembering the noise from the bedroom. But as he opened the bedroom door, he saw nothing but his cat, which was now sleeping peacefully on the bed next to the shattered lamp.
"You broke it again?" Mr. Agrawal sighed, rubbing his temples. "Why did I say yes to buying a cat?".
He never noticed the slight draft from the open window or the faint scent of ozone lingering in the corner. Arjun had already vanished, the key safely returned to its hidden compartment and the Level 5 data fully copied onto the cloner.
Mission was a success and he return the apartment.