The Rogue Agent

Chapter 5: The Hunt Begins

The air in the operations room was thick with tension, the kind that builds when the stakes are life and death, not just for individuals but for nations. The walls were lined with screens displaying maps, surveillance footage, and intelligence reports from around the globe. It was a war room in every sense, though the battle being fought was one of shadows and secrets.

Arjun Sharma stood at the center, his face grim, his mind racing through the possibilities. The situation had escalated far beyond what anyone had anticipated. Tiger's recent strike in Dubai had shattered any hope of containment; the world was now teetering on the edge of a catastrophic conflict.

"We need to stop him," Arjun said, his voice cutting through the murmurs of his senior officers. "And we need to stop him before he strikes again."

Silence followed his words, the weight of the task ahead pressing down on everyone in the room. But Arjun had already made up his mind. There was only one person who could track Tiger, someone who knew him better than anyone else, someone with the skill and determination to bring him in alive.

"Send for Pathan," Arjun ordered, his tone leaving no room for debate.

The decision to bring in Pathan was not one Arjun had made lightly. Pathan was more than just a spy-he was a legend, a man who had operated in the most dangerous corners of the world and had emerged victorious from missions that should have been impossible. But there was another reason Arjun had chosen Pathan, a reason that weighed heavily on his mind.

Pathan and Tiger had once been close, as close as brothers. They had trained together, fought together, and shared a bond that few could understand. But that bond had been severed years ago, torn apart by the same forces that had driven Tiger to the edge of madness. Arjun knew that asking Pathan to hunt down his former friend would not be easy, but he also knew that there was no one better suited for the task.

The village was nestled deep within the rugged mountains of Kashmir, far removed from the bustling cities and political turmoil of the world below. Surrounded by towering pine trees and jagged cliffs, the village was a hidden gem, untouched by time and largely unknown to outsiders. The air was crisp and cool, carrying the faint scent of pine and wildflowers, while the sound of a nearby stream provided a soothing backdrop to the otherwise tranquil environment. The villagers, few in number, led simple lives, their homes built from stone and wood, blending seamlessly into the landscape. It was a place of peace and solitude, where the modern world felt a distant memory-a place where Pathan had sought refuge to escape the chaos of his past.

Pathan moved with the precision of a predator, his body a blur of controlled motion as he maneuvered through the dense forest, every sense on high alert. The sun had barely risen, casting long shadows through the towering trees, but Pathan had already been awake for hours, his instincts sharpened by years of training and combat.

Suddenly, a rustling in the underbrush caught his attention. Without hesitation, he dropped to one knee, his hand reaching for the knife strapped to his thigh. The sound of heavy breathing and rapid footsteps grew louder, and within seconds, three armed men burst into the clearing, their faces masked, their intentions clear.

Pathan didn't wait for them to make the first move. In one fluid motion, he launched himself at the nearest man, his knife slicing through the air with deadly precision. The assailant crumpled to the ground, clutching his throat as blood seeped through his fingers.

The second man swung his rifle toward Pathan, but he was too slow. Pathan ducked under the barrel, his fist connecting with the man's jaw in a bone-crushing punch. As the man staggered back, Pathan followed up with a swift kick to the chest, sending him crashing into a tree with a sickening thud.