28th May 2025,

Russia | 23:17 hrs | Dockyard 12, Murmansk

The freezing air smelled of metal and gun oil.

Searchlights swept over the silent port — a forgotten corner of Murmansk where broken ships rested like dead whales.

Six agents of the Shadow Unit crouched among cargo stacks, rifles ready.

They weren’t supposed to exist — not on record, not in any file.

Their mission tonight: oversee a covert India–Russia arms exchange, a trade of micro-fusion cores meant for space defense.

Officially, it didn’t exist.

Unofficially — failure would mean war.

---

Mission: Operation Trident Veil

Objective: Secure classified fusion cores before they are transferred to a private Russian syndicate.

Local Contact: Vikram — liaison officer from Indian Intelligence.

Team Lead: Raghu Srivastava.

Agents: Siddhant, Mahek, Vinod Pal, Sophia, and Vikram.

“Targets confirmed,” whispered Sophia, her breath fogging the visor. “Shipment’s nuclear-grade. We can’t let it leave Russian soil.”

“Copy that,” Raghu murmured. “Positions?”

“Vikram — north flank.”

“Mahek and Vinod — control room.”

“Siddhant — with me.”

The radio cracked softly.

“North secure,” Vikram’s voice reported — calm, precise, trustworthy.

None of them knew the real Vikram was lying unconscious behind a steel container — a dart buried in his neck, his radio still active.

A man stepped from the shadows near the pier — tall, steady, and silent.

He lifted something small: a synthetic mask, warm from its previous owner’s skin.

He pressed it against his face.

A faint hiss — the material sealed.

When he blinked, Vikram’s face blinked back.

He reached for the weapon lying beside the crate — Vikram’s own service gun — the weight familiar, the cold metal now serving a different master.

His voice modulator hummed to life.

“Everything’s fine here. Just clearing the perimeter.”

He adjusted the jacket, checked the gun, and walked into the open — as Vikram.

---

23:36 hrs — Inside Warehouse

The team advanced through the steel maze.

Crates marked “Medical Equipment” were tagged and sealed.

Barcodes matched Russian defense manifests — too neatly.

Sophia frowned. “These containers are already logged in customs… but we just got clearance an hour ago.”

“Who signed it?” Raghu asked.

Sophia hesitated. “Vikram.”

Every head turned toward him.

He smiled faintly. “HQ pushed early clearance. Just move them.”

Something in his tone — too calm, too measured — made Mahek glance twice.

But the mission clock was running, and trust wasn’t optional tonight.

23:44 hrs — The Betrayal

A metallic clang echoed through the hangar.

Siddhant turned. “Did you hear that?”

“Probably a rat,” Vikram said evenly.

Sophia raised her rifle, scanning the shadows. “No, that was behind—”

BANG!

The shot thundered.

Sophia’s head jerked — red spray across white frost — and she dropped without a sound.

“Agent down! Sophia’s hit!” Vinod shouted, diving behind a crate.

“Who fired?” Raghu yelled.

Everyone turned — and saw him.

Vikram, gun smoking, eyes blank, standing under a floodlight.

For one long second, no one moved.

Then chaos erupted.

“Vikram, what the hell are you doing?” Raghu roared.

Vikram’s expression didn’t change. He turned, sprinted into the maze of containers — vanishing into shadow.

“After him!” Raghu barked.

Siddhant grabbed his weapon. “Wait!” he shouted. “That shot — it wasn’t random. It was meant for me!”

Mahek’s voice cracked. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying he aimed straight at me!”

Vinod was kneeling beside Sophia. “No pulse… she’s gone…” His voice trembled.

Raghu slammed his fist against the metal wall. “He just killed one of ours! Find him!”

Sirens wailed outside — Russian patrols reacting to the shot. Red lights strobed through the fog, painting their faces in panic.

“Move!” Raghu barked. “We’re compromised!”

Mahek looked around helplessly. “Why would he do this? Why would Vikram shoot her?”

Siddhant’s jaw clenched. “He wasn’t shooting her… he was shooting me.”

The words hung in the freezing air — raw, confused, horrifying.

---

23:57 hrs — Extraction Point

They regrouped behind the old hangar, breaths heavy, eyes wild.

Snow fell harder now — flakes melting into the blood on their gloves.

Vinod wiped his face. “He was one of us… we trained together. Why?”

Mahek’s voice cracked. “This isn’t him… it can’t be…”

Raghu’s face was pale, the weight of leadership crushing him. “He fired on his own team. That’s all we know.”

Siddhant looked down at Sophia’s tag clenched in his hand.

“He wanted me dead. But why me?”

No one answered.

The radio was silent — Vikram’s channel dead.

From somewhere in the distance, the faint echo of a ship’s horn cut through the snowstorm.

On that ship’s deck — far from their reach — a man with Vikram’s face wiped a drop of blood from his cheek.

The reflection in the dark sea looked back at him… perfectly Vikram.

He adjusted the collar, stepped into the shadows, and vanished into the blizzard.

---

Behind the hangar, Raghu whispered into the comm, his voice breaking for the first time.

“Agent Sophia — KIA.

Agent Vikram — rogue.

Mission aborted.”

The silence that followed was colder than the wind itself.

And somewhere in the darkness, the real Vikram began to wake — bound, bleeding, and unaware that the world now believed he’d murdered his own.