Maruvarthai🤍

XXIII

The early morning sun streamed through the large windows of the IG's office, illuminating the neatly arranged papers on the imposing wooden desk. The air was thick with tension. Prabhas lounged casually against the wall, arms crossed, a charming grin plastered on his face. He twirled a pen between his fingers, eyeing a framed photograph of the IG's family that hung on the wall as if it were a magazine cover.

Across the room, Rana sat upright in his chair, his brow furrowed in concentration as he scanned the report in front of him. Lean, tall, and serious, he had an air of authority that complemented his meticulous nature.

"Relax, Rana! It's just a little chit-chat with the IG," Prabhas teased, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "What's the worst that could happen?"

Rana looked up from the report, dismissing his friend's flippant demeanour with a level gaze. "Prabhas, this isn't just a casual meeting. We're being summoned because there's credible intel that someone wants us out of the picture after the bust of that political delegate. We can't brush this off."

"Oh, come on! You know we've walked through worse situations than this. Remember last year's chase with the goons in Old City? That was exhilarating!" Prabhas leaned forward, exaggerating his excitement.

"Exhilarating? Or reckless? You nearly got us both killed!" Rana shot back. "We don't have the luxury of being cavalier this time. We need to be careful."

"Careful? Where's the fun in that?" Prabhas shrugged, a cocky smile refusing to leave his lips. "We're ACPs! We're meant to handle danger like a walk in the park. Besides, life is too short to sit around worrying."

Rana sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration. "It's not about worrying; it's about being smart. We can't afford to underestimate the people we're dealing with. They have power—and they might use it against us."

Just then, the door swung open, and the IG walked in, all business. He was a tall man with a commanding presence, his uniform crisp and intimidating. "Gentlemen," he greeted, glancing between them, the seriousness of the situation palpable in the air. "Take a seat."

Prabhas straightened up, sliding into the chair next to Rana, his usual jovial demeanour momentarily replaced by a flicker of respect. Rana folded his hands, taking the cue from the IG, ready to absorb every detail.

"I've called you in today due to recent developments," the IG said, his voice grave. "We have received intelligence reports indicating that your lives are in danger following your arrest of the political delegate last month."

Prabhas feigned a yawn, clearly unfazed. "Danger? Sounds thrilling! Let's make it a weekend getaway," he quipped, earning a sharp glare from Rana.

The IG cleared his throat, ignoring Prabhas's bravado. "This is not a joke, Prabhas. People with power don't take such actions lightly. You've made powerful enemies, and they won't hesitate to retaliate."

Rana leaned forward; seriousness etched on his face. "Sir, what do we need to do to ensure our safety?"

The IG's expression softened slightly. "Stay alert and avoid any unnecessary risks. I suggest that both of you take a step back from active fieldwork for a little while. We need a strategy."

Prabhas rolled his eyes dramatically. "So, you want us to sit back and twiddle our thumbs while the real criminals are out there? That's not happening."

"Not twiddle your thumbs, Prabhas, but reassess your approach. We're going to need your insights and skills—but we'll also require a degree of caution," the IG emphasized, fixing the two men with a firm look.

"Fine, but only if we can plan some 'strategic fun' into it," Prabhas replied, his mischievous grin returning.

Rana shot him a warning look. "This isn't a game, Prabhas."