Destiny or Accident?

Episode: 1 || Fractured Reality

"She is standing on line between giving up
and how much more she can take"

She was in her room, neatly organizing her things into her suitcase. It was her last day here—her mission had been successfully completed, as always. A hint of pride flickered through her thoughts, but she allowed herself that moment. She'd earned it. Every mission assigned to her ended in success. A little arrogance? Maybe. But it came with the territory.

As she placed the second packed suitcase in the corner, a slight frown crossed her face. The weight of what awaited her in Delhi dampened her mood. She pushed the thought aside. Right now, she wanted to savor this brief calm, to marvel at the view her evening flight would offer, and bask in the satisfaction of a job well done.

With her essentials tossed into a small duffle bag, she was just about to sit on the chair near the bed when something—a flicker, a presence—pricked at her senses. It shouldn't have been possible. All the bandits and smugglers had been taken care of, locked away. But her instincts, sharper than reason, screamed otherwise.

Feigning calm, she roamed around her room, pretending to pack. Her eyes discreetly scanned her surroundings until she noticed it: a faint shadow, barely visible near the window ledge. Anyone untrained would've missed it. But she didn't.

She pressed herself against the wall, her breathing shallow, near silent. Moments later, as she had anticipated, a figure slipped through the window. Dressed in black, his face covered with a yellow cloth, the man moved stealthily, confident in his silence. But as soon as his second leg touched the floor, she was on him.

With swift precision, she grabbed the arm holding a knife, twisting it sharply until a sickening crack echoed through the room. His cry of pain was instant as the force of her elbow shattered his elbow joint. The knife clattered to the floor as he cradled his arm, agony written all over his face. Before she could act again, a sharp whistle escaped his lips.

Footsteps. More of them.

Within moments, several men poured into the room. Advika took a quick glance, calculating her odds. She was outnumbered, but she had fought in worse conditions. With a deadly calm, she moved. Her body twisted and struck, each move deliberate. She disarmed the nearest one, driving a knee into his stomach before flipping him over onto the floor. Another lunged at her, but she ducked, delivering a swift blow to his jaw that sent him reeling.

But then, in the chaos, something hard crashed against the back of her skull. Her vision blurred as she dropped to one knee, her hand instinctively reaching for the back of her head. Dizzy, she twisted to look up—and there he was.

Her partner. The one person she had trusted in this operation. He stood over her, a smirk playing on his lips. The betrayal hit harder than the blow.

"Why?" she managed to croak, her voice trembling with fury and disbelief.The man with the yellow cloth—now nursing his broken arm—watched, while her partner, calm as ever, produced a handkerchief soaked in something. He knelt, his face inches from hers, and whispered coldly, "It's just business, Advika."

As the handkerchief neared her face, she fought to stay conscious, her heart pounding with both rage and regret.

Advika's fingers tightened around something soft and warm, the sensation pulling her from the suffocating fog of the memory. She opened her eyes, startled, and realized she had grabbed someone's wrist in a painful grip. A squeak of pain escaped the woman's lips, causing Advika to release her immediately.