Location: RAW Headquarters, New Delhi
Time: 02:37 AM | Minutes after the explosion
The smell of burning paper filled the air. Smoke curled through the dimly lit hallways of RAW headquarters as sirens blared across the building. Somewhere nearby, a man screamed in pain. Gunshots echoed from the upper floors.
Major Aryan Sen crouched behind a toppled metal cabinet, his breath shallow. He had only seconds to act.
He clutched the Azad Hind papers tightly against his chest. These pages held the secret of Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose's disappearance—a truth buried for 80 years.
Now, someone was willing to kill for it.
From the hallway, a team of black-clad operatives stormed forward. Their rifles glowed with red laser sights, scanning the smoke-filled corridors. They were not RAW agents.
Aryan's mind raced. If they weren't RAW… who the hell were they?
CIA? MI6? Chinese MSS? Or something even more dangerous?
The leader of the intruders barked an order in fluent Hindi. "Find the files! Kill everyone who knows!"
Aryan tightened his grip on his pistol. This was not a rescue mission.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________
RAW Headquarters – Emergency Exit
Time: 02:45 AM
Two bullets. That's all Aryan had left.
The once-secure headquarters of India's most powerful intelligence agency was now a war zone. Bodies of RAW officers lay scattered across the floor. The unknown attackers moved methodically, executing survivors.
Aryan spotted an exit sign flickering through the smoke. The basement garage.
But before he could move—
A gunshot ripped through the air! The bullet grazed Aryan's shoulder, sending pain exploding through his body.
He dived behind a pillar, pressing his hand against the wound. Blood soaked through his shirt.
Footsteps approached fast. Three men.
Aryan closed his eyes for a split second. He had no choice. One chance.
As the first attacker turned the corner—
BANG!
Aryan's bullet hit him square in the chest. The second man lunged forward, but Aryan grabbed a broken steel rod from the floor and slammed it into his throat.
The third attacker hesitated. Aryan didn't.
BANG! The last bullet found its mark.
A moment of silence. Then—
His emergency phone vibrated. A single text message flashed on the screen:
"Go to Kolkata. The truth is waiting. Trust no one."
Aryan gritted his teeth. Kolkata.The birthplace of Bose. The city of revolutions.
With no time to think, he stumbled toward the exit. He had two things left—the files in his hand, and a burning question in his mind.
Who was really pulling the strings?
And why was Netaji's secret so dangerous… even today?