Enemies: Part 1

16th Feb., 2002 –

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting its warm farewell over the city, the Marine-line came to life with a buzz of activity. Police officers diligently patrolled the area, ensuring the safety of the civilians. The streets, quiet from day, were now filled with the rhythmic hum of cars in motion. The Rajiv Gandhi Sea Link glittered like a string of diamonds, its majestic lights dancing on the surface of the water. The beaches, a romantic haven for many, exuded an atmosphere of love as couples strolled along the shoreline, their laughter carrying on the breeze. All seemed ordinary, a return to the everyday, except for an unsettling hush that draped itself over the Marine line Main-police station.

Inside the cramped investigation room, Harsh sat uneasily on a chair, his head throbbing with pain. Suddenly, he was plunged into an abyss of darkness, a disorienting sensation. He tried to cry out, but his voice was silenced. Was this another of his mystifying visions, or had reality taken an eerie twist? As he descended further down this obsidian void, he found himself surrounded by an endless sea of wax candles, their flickering flames stretching beyond sight. Trapped in a realm of silence, fear etched across his face as a menacing voice echoed, “Alright.” It continued, “Kill everyone.” With those ominous words, a wave swept through, extinguishing all the candlelights, leaving Harsh in pitch-black despair, his voice silenced.

Anticipation hung heavy, outside the investigation room as everyone awaited the outcome of the trial. Silence reigned until Kajal’s impatience got the better of her, and she exclaimed, “Tell us already!” The questionnaire, about to address their future, finally declared, “I hereby declare that the trial is over.” All eyes were fixated on him, hearts collectively pounding. Heran and his friends, alongside the detective, held their collective breath. Here, not just Harsh’s fate but all those connected to him teetered on the precipice. The questionnaire’s voice filled the room once more, “The culprit is... ‘innocent’.” With that, jubilation erupted, Kajal and Sam leaping with joy, their shouts of “Yes!” filling the room. Heran couldn’t hold back tears of relief, while Sneha crumpled to the floor, her tears a silent testament to her shattered dreams. Her pain remained a hidden current beneath the surface as she wept, her father, Governor Tauheed, trying to console her, whispered, “You aimed to win for him and me, but here I am, the one who destroyed it.” Their shared grief echoed through the room, a stark contrast to the jubilation on the other side.

Yet, amidst the rollercoaster of emotions, a loud thud shook everyone’s attention. All eyes turned to the one-way mirror, behind which Harsh floated, his chair overturned, and blood dripping from his eyes, nose, and ears onto floor. His eyes seemed to emit an eerie, fluid blue light, an unnatural spectacle that left everyone stunned. Heran’s mind struggled to make sense of this otherworldly scene, as if some unknown force had taken hold of Harsh. They rushed in, their concern growing. Harsh hung there, his eyes darting through the air, his voice carrying an unsettling intensity as he cried out, “I am here.” The window shattered, the symphony of shattering glass forced everyone to protect themself. Harsh’s words grew more ominous, “Come and get me.” Without hesitation, Kajal followed Heran back as she rushed to Harsh’s side, attempting to bring him down, but their proximity meant they couldn’t escape the piercing screams that emanated from him. “Don’t hurt them; I am your opponent,” Harsh screamed, his words echoing through the room, a cacophonous crescendo. Others joined in their efforts to pull him to safety, following Sir Arjun and Sam. Despite the deafening screams, they persisted in their struggle, determined to save Harsh. But the screams grew more sinister, “I am the authority; I am the rule; I am the King!” The ground trembled as if in the throes of an earthquake, and then, as suddenly as it began, the tremors ceased, leaving Harsh unconscious, a mystery wrapped in an enigma.

After that bewildering and harrowing incident, they rushed Harsh to the police clinic, desperate to determine what had just transpired. The attending doctor, despite her best efforts, couldn’t pinpoint the underlying cause of Harsh’s condition. Frustration mounted, and accusations began to fly. Sam, overwhelmed with anger and fear for Harsh, pointed an accusing finger at Sanjeev, shouting, “You poisoned him!” Sanjeev retorted, his voice edged with desperation, “It’s because of the drugs he got from Raj.” Tempers flared, and Sam grabbed Sanjeev’s collar, his voice a searing accusation, “He wouldn’t; it was proven just seconds ago!” In a tense standoff, Sanjeev’s grip tightened around Sam’s neck, his own voice rising, “He did, and it’s because of it.”

Before this volatile confrontation could escalate further, a swift intervention came. Sir Arjun and Sir Sanjeev, united in purpose, delivered knockout punches simultaneously, rendering both Sam and Sanjeev unconscious. They exchanged knowing glances, clicked their tongues in disapproval, and then carried Sam and Sanjeev away in parallel, their faces etched with disbelief for their comrades.

Outside the clinic, Kajal tenderly attempted to console Heran, who couldn’t help but be consumed by fear for Harsh’s wellbeing. She spoke reassuringly, “He should be alright, Heran; look how far we’ve come.”

Meanwhile, Sneha had locked herself in her office, her father, Governor Tauheed, desperately pleading for her to come out. Inside, Sneha’s frustration reached a crescendo as she destroyed her desk and everything within reach. In her turmoil, she pulled out her revolver and loaded it, her intent clear. Tauheed’s anxiety intensified as he attempted to break into the office. Just as the situation teetered on the precipice, Sanjeev arrived at the scene, his voice a frantic command, “Move aside!” With a forceful push, he broke down the door and rushed to intervene before Sneha could harm herself. Then, a sudden gunshot pierced the air. Inside, it was Sam, holding Sneha’s arm firmly. She knelt on the floor, the gun lay beside her, next to a photograph of her daughter, Aditi, her hand bleeding from the destruction she had wrought. Sanjeev’s eyes welled with tears, his desperation palpable in the face of this heartbreaking scene.

In past on Republic Day, 26th Jan., 2002 –

On that unforgettable day, when the nation’s love overflowed, it felt as though the very heartbeat of the country resonated in harmony. Parades unfurled like colorful ribbons, and patriotic performances imbued the air with a sense of unity that could be felt deep within the marrow of every citizen’s bones. The streets reverberated with the echoes of pride, while flags billowed, and hearts swelled.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the bustling city, officers of every rank converged for a management-hosted soirée. The festive ambiance washed away the lingering shadows of the past, at least for the evening. Among the distinguished guests, Detective Sneha and her father, Governor Tauheed, found themselves sharing a space filled with palpable tension, a tension that hung in the air like a thread waiting to be pulled.

In the midst of the post-celebration revelry, prominent police officials gathered discreetly for a spirited session of libations. Meanwhile, old friends turned political rivals, Tauheed and CM Pranav, found themselves sitting in a secluded corner, their glasses filled with amber liquid.

Pranav, a discerning observer, cast a contemplative gaze toward Sneha, who stood at a distance, her smile no longer as radiant as it once was. He leaned in, his voice tinged with curiosity, “Your daughter doesn’t seem as joyful as she used to be.”

Tauheed let out a weary sigh, his expression etched with concern. His eyes, once filled with hope and ambition, now bore the weight of a father’s worries. ““If it weren’t for the Delhi Parliament attack last year,” he said, his voice heavy with sorrow, “she would be happy now, enjoying herself.”

In that hushed corner of the celebration, amidst the camaraderie and politics, the burdens of duty and the scars of the past mingled with the echoes of a nation’s love.

On the fateful day of 13th Dec., 2001 –

As Sneha embarked on her daily routine, immersed in the cocoon of her office, she remained blissfully unaware of the impending tragedy that would soon shatter her world. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long, somber shadows, a harbinger of the darkness that would soon envelop her life. It was then that a message from the Temple of Democracy pierced the sanctum of her daily affairs, delivering the crushing blow of heart-wrenching news - her beloved husband, Suyash, had fallen victim to the ruthless attack on the parliament earlier that day.

The shocking revelation shattered the fragile walls of her routine, summoning her to the very heart of the nation's power, the parliament, where she was to receive the posthumous honor that no one could have foreseen. The Param Vir Award, a symbol of extraordinary bravery, was to be bestowed upon her husband in absentia. Overwhelmed by the weight of this tragic news, Sneha's strength faltered, and she crumbled under the immense burden of her grief. Her fellow officers, understanding the depths of her despair, rallied around her, offering solace and urging her to remain strong in honor of her late husband.

However, the magnitude of the honor, while a testament to Suyash's valor, proved to be a burden too heavy for Sneha to bear. Her heart was a tempest of sorrow, and the mere thought of standing before the parliament, accepting the award on her husband's behalf, felt like an insurmountable mountain.

It was her father, Governor Tauheed, who emerged as the unwavering pillar of strength in her darkest hour. He stepped forward to shoulder the responsibility, accepting the Param Vir Award on Sneha's behalf, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, but his composure unbroken.

Later that evening, Sneha found herself in the solitude of her room, with her young daughter, Aditi, by her side. The innocence in Aditi's wide, searching eyes prompted her to inquire, "Baba, where is he?" Struggling to contain her tears, Sneha replied, her voice trembling with pain, "He has gone far away." Aditi, innocently persistent, continued to seek answers, "When will baba be at home?" Sneha, her heart heavy with emotions, found herself unable to articulate the depth of her sorrow, the truth too painful to convey to her innocent child.

Back to the night of 26th Jan., 2002 –

In the midst of their somber conversation, the current CM, Pranav, cast a critical eye upon Sneha’s situation, his words carrying a tone of both assessment and concern. “Her record isn’t looking good; she should reconsider her choices,” he remarked, a hint of worry etched on his face.

Governor Tauheed’s gaze remained fixed on Pranav, a mixture of paternal concern and unwavering pride coursing through him. “What are you suggesting?” he inquired, his voice laced with curiosity. “It was her dream to be there, serving the nation.”

Pranav, ever the pragmatic observer, clarified his intentions with a touch of empathy. “No, don’t misunderstand me,” he began, his voice softening. “I’m saying she should be with her daughter, providing her with strength. When Suyash was with her, they were happy and strong. But I can see that she hasn’t moved past it. She doesn’t have time for her daughter, and her work isn’t going well either.”

Tauheed was momentarily rendered speechless by Pranav’s candid assessment, his mind racing to grasp the implications of his words. Pranav continued, his voice carrying a heartfelt plea, “I want to see her smile again.”

Tauheed, now deep in contemplation, ventured to ask the pivotal question, “What are you proposing?”

Pranav, not one to mince words, put forth his proposition with unwavering directness. “I’ll be direct,” he declared. “I’m suggesting a marriage between my son and your daughter, if you agree.”

The proposition hung in the air, a weighty proposition that bore the potential to alter the course of Sneha’s life. Pranav, driven by the notion of rekindling their childhood friendship, added, “We were childhood friends. This could strengthen our friendship and help Sneha move forward.”

Governor Tauheed, torn between his daughter’s dreams and her well-being, sighed deeply, the weight of his decision pressing upon him like a heavy burden. In that pivotal moment, the future of Sneha’s life and the fate of her dreams hung in the balance, a decision that would require careful consideration and an immense amount of love.

Following day, 27th Jan., 2002 –

The day began with a poignant and heartfelt exchange between Tauheed and Sneha, the atmosphere heavy with the weight of the impending decision. With a heavy heart, Tauheed broached the subject, delicately conveying CM Pranav’s Son’s marriage proposal to his daughter. However, Sneha’s immediate response was a resolute rejection, her determination unwavering.

Tauheed’s concern deepened, and his voice rose, emphasizing the gravity of the situation. “You can’t do it all,” he insisted, the urgency evident in his tone. “You have a daughter to care for, and you need to step back from your work.”

Sneha, equally unwavering in her stance, countered with a voice filled with conviction. “I will not stop working,” she declared firmly. “It was my dream, and it was your dream too.”

As she turned to leave the room, her father’s unwavering love and concern compelled him to take hold of her arm, restraining her gently but firmly. He persisted, his voice laced with paternal concern, “Your mother can’t take care of her forever. You have to choose one.”

Tears welled up in Sneha’s eyes, her heart torn between her duty to her country and the desires of her own heart. In her anguish, she cried out, the pain of the decision weighing heavily upon her.

Tauheed, holding his daughter close, spoke with the utmost gentleness, his voice a soothing balm to her wounded soul. “I know it’s difficult, my dear,” he whispered, his words a comforting embrace, “but everyone has to move on.” In that tender moment, father and daughter grappled with the agonizing choice that lay ahead, their love for each other binding them even as it pulled them in opposite directions.

A week later on 5th Feb., 2002 –

Again this morning, Sneha found’s herself confronted with another CM’s son’s marriage proposal. Her anger erupted like a storm, and she stormed into her father’s office, her entrance marked by the forceful swing of the door, exclaiming, “What are these marriage proposals that keep coming my way? I’ve already made it clear, Father; I will not marry anyone!” Tauheed, his patience dwindling, sighed heavily and gestured for the person in front of him to leave them alone. Once alone, Sneha took a seat before her father, determined to resolve the matter. She declared firmly, “Today, we settle this once and for all.”

Tauheed, equally resolute, adopted a stern tone as he responded, “I am your father, and you will do as I say: either leave your work or marry.” Sneha’s voice rose in frustration as she shouted, “I’ve told you repeatedly, I want neither of these choices; just leave me be!” Just then, CM Pranav made an unexpected entrance, his presence adding an extra layer of tension. He commented casually, “My, my. I see a heated conversation between father and daughter. Perhaps I should leave you two alone.” Sneha couldn’t help but call him out, saying, “It’s you who’s been filling his ears, isn’t it?” Tauheed gently reminded her to speak respectfully to her elders. Pranav, reassured, “It’s okay; she’s my daughter too. Now, let’s play a game.” Sneha, her patience fraying, responded curtly, “I don’t want to play any games; just leave me alone.”

Pranav, however, had a proposition. He explained, “Sneha, if you win, we’ll leave you alone to do as you wish. But if we win, you’ll have to follow your father’s wishes, and the outcome of the game depends solely on your performance.” Intrigued by the challenge, Sneha slammed her hand on the table, rose to her feet, and declared with steely determination, “Challenge accepted!” With that, she swiftly left the room, her fiery resolve unyielding. Tauheed, a mix of pride and worry etched on his face, commented, “You know she won’t slow down with stakes like these; she’s Mumbai’s finest detective.” Pranav acknowledged, “I understand, but she was Mumbai’s finest detective, her work record has been steadily declining.”

Nearly 20 days later, on 14th Feb., 2002 –

Sneha returned to her home complex, the exhaustion of a challenging week at work evident in her every step. Her work had been far from smooth, and the responsibility of training a new recruit had been added to her plate. As she entered her home, her daughter found solace in playing with her frail and old grandmother. Sneha, longing for a moment of respite, quickly showered and emerged in a towel, seeking a moment of peace.

However, the tranquility was shattered as the earth beneath them trembled, quaking with an unexplained fear as something descended upon it. Aditi, Sneha’s daughter, let out a piercing scream that seemed to resonate through the entire room. In an instant, Sneha rushed to her side, scooping her up, and gazed out the window, her heart pounding with a sense of foreboding. The crescent moon, once serene, was now veiled by a colossal, radiant beam descending from the heavens, a beacon of light in the night sky. The winds intensified, their howls cutting through the air like an eerie chorus.

Sneha strained her eyes to peer out, but the brilliance was too blinding for mortal vision to bear. Her husband’s uniform, adorned with the Param Vir Award, slipped to the ground, the award itself gleaming brilliantly. Aditi, wide-eyed with wonder, exclaimed, “Ma, look outside!” Sneha turned her gaze towards the heavens, where a radiant burst of colors painted a mesmerizing yet ominous tableau. It was a destructive interstellar visitor, concealing its devastating power behind a breathtaking display of cosmic beauty.

Tears welled in Sneha’s eyes as she looked skyward, her voice choked with emotion as she whispered, “Can you see this, Suyash?” Her figure, graceful and elegant, was bathed in the ethereal light pouring in from the window, casting her in a breathtaking silhouette. In the distance, a lightning bolt streaked across the heavens, and blaring alarms urged everyone to seek shelter. The sky itself seemed to weep in unison with her, and the fierce winds howled with an intensity matched only by the emotions surging within. Her daughter, caught in the midst of this extraordinary natural phenomenon, looked out with a mixture of happiness and wonder, her young eyes witnessing a breathtaking event that transcended human understanding.

On the fateful day of 13th Dec., 2001 –

In the quiet sanctum of her everyday work, Sneha devoted herself to the tasks within the comforting embrace of her office, blissfully oblivious to the impending tempest that would soon shatter her world. With each passing moment, as the evening shadows stealthily crept into the room, a message from the Temple of Democracy pierced the tranquil air, delivering the devastating news of her beloved husband, Suyash’s, untimely demise in the harrowing parliament attack earlier that day. The shock of the revelation, a thunderclap in the midst of a serene day, summoned her to the very heart of the nation’s power, the parliament, where she was to receive the posthumous honor – the Param Vir Award – on his behalf.

The weight of this news, like an anchor of sorrow, sent Sneha tumbling to the ground. Her fellow officers, rallying around her like a protective shield, urged her to remain strong, their voices a chorus of support, their hands offering the fragile threads of comfort in her time of need.

Yet, as she tried to grasp the enormity of the honor that awaited her at the parliament ceremony, she found herself ensnared in the coils of an unrelenting burden. It proved to be a load too heavy for her shoulders to bear, her strength faltering beneath its weight. The thought of standing before the nation, accepting the award on her husband’s behalf, was a daunting precipice she couldn’t bring herself to climb.

It was in that poignant moment of hesitation that her father, the steadfast Governor Tauheed, emerged as the unflinching pillar of support. He stepped forward, accepting the Param Vir Award on her behalf, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, yet his composure resolute.

Later that same evening, Sneha found herself within the quiet solitude of her room, her young daughter, Aditi, by her side. The innocence shining in Aditi’s eyes led her to inquire, her voice filled with curiosity and longing, “Baba, where is he?” Struggling to contain her tears, Sneha replied with a quiver in her voice, “He has gone far away.”

Aditi, innocently persistent, sought reassurance, asking, “When will baba be at home?” Sneha, her heart a storm of emotions, found herself unable to articulate the depths of her pain. In the tender embrace of her daughter’s love and innocence, Sneha grappled with the profound ache that had settled within her, a pain she was still learning to navigate.

Back to the night of 26th Jan., 2002 –

In the wake of the emotional upheaval in Sneha’s life, the current CM, Pranav, took a moment to comment on her situation, his words laden with both observation and concern. “Her record isn’t looking good; she should reconsider her choices,” he remarked, his tone a mixture of assessment and solicitude.

Tauheed, the ever-protective father, fixed his gaze on Pranav, his response a delicate dance of concern and pride. “What are you suggesting?” he inquired, the creases of worry etched into his brow. “It was her dream to be there, serving the nation.”

Pranav, keen on making his intentions clear, spoke with heartfelt candor. “No, don’t misunderstand me,” he began, his voice softened by empathy. “I’m saying she should be with her daughter, providing her with strength. When Suyash was with her, they were happy and strong. But I can see that she hasn’t moved past it. She doesn’t have time for her daughter, and her work isn’t going well either.”

Tauheed, momentarily rendered speechless by Pranav’s insightful observation, absorbed his words, a swirl of thoughts and emotions churning within him. Pranav, unwavering in his desire to see Sneha find happiness again, continued with a heartfelt plea, his sincerity evident. “I want to see her smile again.”

Tauheed, now deep in contemplation, dared to venture the crucial question. “What are you proposing?”

Pranav, a man of directness and resolve, left no room for ambiguity in his response. “I’ll be direct,” he declared. “I’m suggesting a marriage between my son and your daughter, if you agree.”

Governor Tauheed, taken aback by the proposition, weighed the implications of such a significant decision. Pranav, ever the persuasive diplomat, added a touch of nostalgia and hope, saying, “We were childhood friends. This could strengthen our friendship and help Sneha move forward.”

Tauheed, his heart torn between his daughter’s cherished dreams and her well-being, let out a deep sigh, an audible reflection of the inner conflict that raged within him. In that pivotal moment, the future of Sneha’s life hung in the balance, a decision that would require careful consideration and a profound commitment to her happiness and well-being.

Following day, 27th Jan., 2002 –

The day began with a poignant and heartfelt conversation between Tauheed and Sneha, their voices carrying the weight of a profound decision that hung heavily over their hearts. As the topic was gently broached, Tauheed conveyed Pranav’s unexpected proposal to his daughter, his words filled with both concern and hope.

Yet, Sneha’s immediate response was one of unwavering rejection, her resolve standing like an unyielding fortress. Her voice, steady and unwavering, echoed through the room as she declared, “I will not stop working. It was my dream, and it was your dream too.”

Tauheed’s paternal concern deepened, and in his growing worry, his voice rose, emphasizing the urgency of the situation. “You can’t do it all,” he insisted, his words a plea for her to understand. “You have a daughter to care for, and you need to step back from your work.”

But Sneha, equally steadfast in her convictions, countered with unwavering determination. “I can’t give up on my dreams,” she stated firmly, her eyes reflecting the unwavering fire of her spirit.

As she turned to leave the room, her father’s love and concern held her back, his grip on her arm firm yet filled with tenderness. He persisted, his voice rich with paternal concern, “Your mother can’t take care of her forever. You have to choose one.”

Tears welled up in Sneha’s eyes, her heart heavy with the weight of her decision. In her anguish, she cried out, the pain of the choice before her tearing at her very soul. Tauheed, holding his daughter close, spoke gently, his voice a soothing balm to her wounded spirit. “I know it’s difficult, my dear,” he whispered, his words a comforting embrace, “but everyone has to move on.”

In that tender and emotionally charged moment, father and daughter grappled with the agonizing decision that lay ahead, their love for each other a bond that would forever connect them, even as they faced the crossroads of duty and desire.

Day after landing, 15th Feb., 2002 –

Detective Sneha found herself thrust into the midst of a perplexing case, tasked with unraveling the chaotic events of the previous night. By her side, the newly recruited Detective Sanjeev lent his fresh perspective to the enigma that had befallen them. While the public at large considered the incident a mere act of nature, lingering whispers of suspicion, like a shadow in the corner of a room, suggested a potential involvement of Raj Tech, casting an unsettling cloud of uncertainty over the entire situation.

In an office perched high above the city, Governor Tauheed and CM Pranav observed the unfolding drama with keen interest. Sneha, standing resolute, delivered a speech that resonated through various news channels, her words a beacon of authority amidst the prevailing chaos. Pranav, his eyes never leaving the screen, couldn't help but offer his insight. "This is the next big challenge we've been waiting for," he remarked, his voice tinged with anticipation. "Something even the most seasoned professionals would struggle to decipher."

Tauheed, intrigued by Pranav's enigmatic comment, couldn't resist inquiring further. "Why do you say that?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

Pranav, wearing a cryptic smile, replied with a touch of mystery in his tone, "It's a feeling." His words hung in the air, an enigma within an enigma, leaving the true nature of the challenge they faced shrouded in uncertainty.

Back to Present, 16th Feb., 2002 –

Sam approached Heran and Kajal, his head still heavy with the pain earlier. He observed Heran, tears streaming down her face, with Kajal by her side, offering comforting words. Sam, ever the friend, handed Heran a green handkerchief that she lost while helping Harsh and gently said, “Don’t lose it, again.” Heran looked at the handkerchief, touched by Sam’s gesture, as he placed it in her hand and reassured them both, “They said he’ll be fine. We can take him home tomorrow.”

Relief washed over Heran, and Kajal inquired anxiously, “Is he really okay?” Sam reassured her, saying, “Yes, there’s no need to worry; he’s perfectly fine.” Kajal, concerned about the police, pressed further, “What about the authorities? Will they come after him?” Sam replied calmly, “He’ll be okay.”

Growing frustrated, Kajal grabbed Sam’s ear and twisted it, her voice tinged with anger. “Fine? Are you here to reassure us or not?” Heran observed their friendly bickering, feeling uplifted by their camaraderie. She clutched the handkerchief in her hand and whispered softly, “Father, he’ll be alright, won’t he?”

Sam, ever practical, suggested, “Let’s go ask him in person.” Kajal, her curiosity piqued, asked, “But where is he right now?”

However a while ago, when Harsh had inexplicably started floating and screaming with intensity, the questionnaire saw an opportunity to escape. He bore a tattoo on his neck bearing the treasure sign of the Crest Chest Gang. Utilizing a small radio device, he reported, “Captain, the job’s done. I’m on my way.” But just moments before, in a empty bathroom, the questionnaire emerged and began washing his hands. It was then that he spotted a tall, unknown figure lurking in the mirror behind him. Reacting with swift instinct, he attempted to tackle the intruder, but his efforts proved futile. The mysterious figure seized the questionnaire’s hand, crushing, rendering him immobilized. Despite the pain, the questionnaire kicks him but struggled as the intruder countered his move, ultimately breaking his leg. In a final, devastating blow, the stranger used his hand and questionnaire’s own hand to strike him in the face, shattering his jaw. The questionnaire fell lifeless to the ground. The intruder wipes blood from his face and slam kicks the questionnaire multiple times to his face a grotesque and unrecognizable visage, blood splattering in every direction. The intruder left the scene with a cold, calculated calmness, leaving no trace of his presence behind. Three cleaners entered soon after, efficiently sanitizing the area and removing the corpse, cleaning the surrounding, not leaving any evidence.

Meanwhile, in a forensic lab where few scientists were diligently examining various artifacts, one scientist on upper floor was delved deep into the mysteries of the previous night’s destruction event. She meticulously scrutinized why all the satellites in the affected area had ceased to function and delved into complex radiation graphs. Amidst her work, an unexpected distraction arose when she heard a thud, and her attention shifted to an open window in an adjacent room. Sighing in annoyance, she closed it, but her curiosity was further piqued when she heard a cat’s plaintive meow. Turning around, she saw a striking black cat with luminous yellow eyes. Mesmerized by its beauty, she approached the feline, but it darted away, stumbling over a box. As the box fell, it revealed a shining artifact, the same one from the investigation on February 14th. She picked up the object, a smooth green oval amulet, and decided to examine it more closely.

However, the same cat crossed her path again, startling her. She attempted to speak soothingly to the cat, saying, “Aw, do you want some milk, kitty cat?” Placing the amulet on a nearby table, she went to the empty canteen, down a floor to fetch a bowl and milk from the fridge. Pouring the milk into the bowl, she returned to find the cat playing with the amulet on the table. Placing the bowl near the cat, she watched as it sniffed the milk and then delicately started lapping it up. The telephone rang behind, and she answered it, speaking with her superior, who advised her to enjoy her day off and not work. After the call, she realized that the cat wasn’t actually drinking; it was simply sitting beside the bowl. As she adjusted her glasses, she remarked, “Aw, aren’t you hungry.”

Suddenly, the cat reached out and knocked the bowl over, spilling milk onto the amulet. The scientist cried out, “Don’t...” Before her eyes, the amulet began crackling with yellow light, and with a silent explosion, it shattered, causing a chunk of the forensic building to vanish into thin air. The ground quaked as if in the throes of an earthquake, and a brilliant yellow beacon surrounded by swirling blue light pierced the dark night sky. After the explosion, the amulet descended gracefully to the ground, its enigma and potential danger now unleashed upon the world.