" What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from."
-T.S. Eliot
In the enigmatic town of Kshaya lurks a figure shrouded in infamy: SHAITAN, the most wanted criminal whose true id...
Ashwath returned to his office, the weight of his earlier realization still pressing heavily on his shoulders. His steps were slow and measured, the sense of defeat creeping in with each motion. As he entered, he was startled to find a senior DGIB officer seated casually in his chair, twirling one of the pens absentmindedly between his fingers. The officer’s easy posture contrasted sharply with the intensity that Ashwath felt, and the sight of him made the atmosphere in the room shift instantly—like a storm cloud gathering in an otherwise clear sky.
The officer glanced up from the desk, his eyes glinting with a knowing, almost mocking amusement. The casualness in his demeanor was a stark reminder of the vast gulf that separated Ashwath from the powers that controlled his every move.
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Ashwath immediately stood at attention, his back straight and his chest lifted, as was customary when facing a superior. He saluted sharply, the motion precise and disciplined.
"Ah, come in, hero, the savior of the day," the officer remarked with a cold smirk, his gaze flickering briefly over the desk, then back at Ashwath. There was no warmth in his words, only a thinly veiled sarcasm that made Ashwath’s resolve tighten.
"Nothing like that, sir," Ashwath replied, his voice steady, betraying no emotion despite the building tension. "I'm just honoring the uniform I wear and doing everything I can to make this world a better place."
The officer’s smile faded, his expression hardening into something much colder, much more dangerous. His voice dropped an octave, now thick with authority. "You're dropping Faraib from this investigation," he commanded, his words final and unyielding, with no room for negotiation or challenge.
Ashwath’s heart skipped a beat, the order cutting through his resolve like a knife. His instinct was to protest, to stand his ground—but his voice remained steady, even though the frustration within him bubbled up. "Sir, I’ve got a lead. How can I just drop it?"
The officer’s eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a taut line. The temperature in the room seemed to drop as he leaned forward slightly, his tone now cold and ominous. "I’m warning you, Ashwath. This isn’t just about losing your job—you could lose your life. This is bigger than you, and bigger than this investigation."
Ashwath’s posture didn’t falter. His spine remained straight, his eyes locked onto the officer’s, unwavering in his determination. "Do whatever you must, sir," he replied, his voice firm and resolute. "But I won’t let anyone involved in this get away."
His mind raced, the walls of the office feeling smaller, as if the very space around him was closing in. But he wasn’t ready to give up—not yet. He took a step forward, his voice lowering to a deadly calm. "I have seen Dridhavir kill a man on the street. I will make sure it’s added in the FIR."
The officer paused, momentarily taken aback by the audacity of Ashwath's words. He leaned back in the chair, a sardonic grin curling at the edges of his lips. "Is there any witness, Ashwath? Does anyone in this city have the courage to stand up and be a witness to your claims?"
