The sun had begun to dip behind the steel-gray skyline as Kiaan Verma, Zid, and Rehaan stepped out of the Swindon Military Base, their boots crunching lightly over the gravelled path. But Kiaan, always a storm in silence, paused just outside the high-security gates. His sharp eyes scanned the facility one last time—stone walls, electric fences, security towers standing like frozen sentinels.
His jaw clenched.
Not just a base. A cage of secrets.
A place where someone had once walked in with darkness in their breath and blood in their plans.
Rehaan called out, "Kiaan, you coming?"
But he didn't respond right away. His eyes lingered for a second longer… before he finally turned and walked toward the SUV.
The engine roared to life.
---
Back at HQ – The Pulse Room
The lights inside the HQ's operations floor were already dimmed into work-mode blue. Giant digital screens flickered with live footage, maps, timelines, and faces of the victims on rotation. It was their war-room now—every corner humming with tension.
As soon as they entered, Kiaan didn't sit. He tossed his coat to the side, his expression unreadable.
"Rehaan. Zid. Brief Tara. Now."
His voice was like a bullet—sharp, clean, no room for air.
Tara, already at her terminal, looked up. Her sharp mind didn't miss the shift in the atmosphere.
Zid stepped forward first. "We interviewed three cadets who attended the seminar. All confirmed the presence of a mysterious man that day. Late 30s. Scar under left eye. Gloves. Civilian, but inside the secured base."
Rehaan added, "No name. No ID in the records. And he spoke to the victims directly. One of them said he told him, 'You'll be dancing soon too.'"
Tara's brow furrowed.
"He predicted the deaths?"
Kiaan stepped forward now, facing her directly.
"He planned them. He chose them. And he's not finished."
A tense silence.
Then he said, "I want every digital trail from Swindon Military Base's entry logs on that seminar day. Names. Biometrics. Shadow entries. Even scraps."
Tara's fingers hovered over her keyboard. "And if they're classified?"
Kiaan leaned in, his eyes dark.
"Then hack it. I don't care if MI5 shows up with flamethrowers. Break their firewall like it's made of glass. Use backdoor traces, trojan reversals, every tool we've coded. I want that data, Tara. And I want it tonight."
Rehaan whistled softly. "Someone's about to go full cyber-demon."
Tara smirked, stretching her fingers.
"England base… your gates are mine now."
She plugged in her drive, screens lighting up in chaotic arrays—line after line of encrypted code flashing as she dove deep into the military's backend server.
Zid turned to Kiaan. "You think the killer's next move is connected to an upcoming seminar?"
Kiaan's voice dropped low.
"He didn't just choose victims. He rehearsed. Each seminar was a casting call. And the next one?"
He pointed to the timeline on the screen.
"It's in 5 days."