The icy winds of Kulgam, South Kashmir howled through the streets. Major Siddharth Iyer crouched behind a crumbling stone wall as his breath came out in white wisps. The chill seeped through his gloved hands, which held the AK-203, its matte-black body slick with frost. The rifle felt heavy but familiar, the cold metal pressed against his palm like an extension of his own will. Regardless of how stiff his joints felt due to the cold, he tightened his grip on the gun.

Though the street felt eerily calm, Siddharth knew what was waiting for them behind the serene mask of silence. So did his team of 9 highly trained commandos. His eyes scanned the target building from his hiding spot as he simultaneously listened for movements. Sure enough, he saw a faint shadow by the window that others failed to notice. Siddharth Iyer had the uncanny ability to see things before they happened- routes, sniper nests, escape windows. He didn't guess. He observed. And when he moved, he did so with the silence and precision of a predator.

And that is how he earned the name Falcon. Not only because he was the fastest, or the strongest, but because of his eyes. Siddharth gave a subtle sideway glance to Captain Anil Deshmukh and Rohan Rajput and they immediately understood. That's how the three musketeers of Rashtriya Rifles were. They needed no words to understand each other.

Behind Anil, Subedar Amandeep kissed the picture of his one-month-old son. He hadn't been able to go home to see the birth of his son and all he had was pictures his wife sent and whenever he had made a video call, his son was always asleep. He felt a hand squeeze his shoulder in quiet reassurance. He turned and nodded at Captain Rohan with misty eyes.

The plan had been set, and their objectives were clear. There were three terrorists hiding in house four and a family was held hostage. Siddharth's team which led Operation Black Frost was ready for action. But what none of them knew was that their plan was based on false intel and they were about to pay a heavy price.

"Team, house four. The target's inside. Prepare for breach." Siddharth's voice was calm, authoritative despite the nagging feeling in his gut. He had no time to listen to his gut instincts.

"Clear!" shouted Anil as he peered into the darkened windows of the house. The commandos moved swiftly, opening the door with practiced ease. But as they did, the unmistakable sound of gunfire erupted from an unexpected direction. Siddharth's pulse quickened, and he raised a fist to halt the team's advance. "Contact left! Not house four, house three!" Rohan shouted, but it was already too late. A burst of AK-47 fire erupted from an upper window in House three, the next building over. A few of Siddharth's men, caught off-guard, ducked for cover.

"Abort breach! Abort breach!" Siddharth barked into the comms, but the command was lost in the chaos. Siddharth quickly fired, taking out two assailants, but by the time he realized there were more, a bullet whizzed through the air, aiming for the back of his head. But before it could hit him he heard Subedar Amandeep call out, "Major Saab!".

Siddharth turned swiftly and his eyes widened as he saw the bullet meant for him hit Subedar Amandeep's neck. With blood splattered on his face he immediately dragged Amandeep behind a pillar nearby. "Shit...Shit..." He cursed as he put pressure on Amandeep's neck, but the blood flow refused to stop. The bullet had torn through his jugular vein. Amandeep opened his mouth to speak and the bloodlow intensified. "No...Don't speak." Siddharth ordered. Amandeep's breath came out in ragged gasps, each one weaker than the last. His eyes flickered, struggling to stay open. "Stay with me, Subedar," Siddharth said, his voice low but firm, his gloves slick with blood. "You hear me? You're not dying here."

"Major..." Amandeep's lips moved, a faint smile breaking through the pain. "House... three... terrace."

Siddharth's jaw clenched. He pressed harder on the wound even though he knew it was useless. The blood kept spilling through his fingers, soaking into the snow.

"Anil!" Siddharth shouted over the gunfire. "Smoke out that window! Vikram- flank right, now!"

The team moved like instinct, returning fire, shadows slicing through the smoke and chaos.
Siddharth's earpiece crackled- Rohan's voice, tense: "Major, we're pinned! They've got elevation!"

"Hold position," Siddharth ordered, eyes still on Amandeep. He could feel the pulse fading beneath his hand. "I'll handle it."

For a second, the war noise dulled around him. Amandeep's gaze locked on his- calm, loyal, unblinking. He smiled one last time, lifting his hand to salute. "Ja..Jai Hh..ind.." . Then he went still, his hand dropping to the snow covered ground. Siddhath's throat tightened. He lifted his hand in a salute and said firmly. "Jai Hind,"

He exhaled shakily, forcing the emotion down like muscle memory. Death was not new to him. He had lost his brother's in arms before but it always hurt the same. He could never get used to it. He picked up his rifle, the familiar weight settling in his hand.

"Anil," he said into the comms, his tone was flat, like steel cutting through the static. "House three. We finish this." His team pushed forward through the rain of bullets. They knew they were surrounded, but they'd rather choose death than let the terrorists escape. Siddharth's team managed to take down thirteen terrorists and they realised there was one more left. But they couldn't charge in.

Siddharth's heart pounded as he assessed the scene. He could see the civilians in house three. A terrorist held the woman by her hair and pressed her face to the window. She held two frightened children in her hand, both crying in fear. Siddharth's jaw tightened.

"Hold fire!" he barked into the comms. "Civilians inside house three...repeat, civilians inside!" The gunfire slowed, tapering into uneasy silence broken only by the crackle of radio static and distant echoes.

"Major, we have a shot- " Anil started, voice strained.

"Negative," Siddharth snapped. "No one fires until I say so. We're not losing any more innocents today."

He pressed his shoulder against the wall, peering through the scope again. The woman was still there, shielding the children as the last terrorist tried to pry away the weeping child. Siddharth's pulse hammered, but his tone stayed even.

"Rohan, set perimeter. No movement till I clear the civilians. Tariq- watch that window. One wrong move, and he'll use them as cover."

He switched channels. "HQ, this is Falcon. Hostiles mixed with civilians. Requesting negotiation team and backup. Holding position."

The words left his mouth like clipped commands, but the weight in his chest was different this time. He was determined to not let anyone die today. But before he could hear the reply from HQ, he heard a gunshot. As the terrorist struggled to pry away the child, his gun missfired and the bullet hit Anil. As soon as Anil's body hit the ground one of the commandos from Siddharth's team saw the opening and fired at the terrorist, which hit him in the shoulder. The situation quickly spiraled out of control. The terrorist realised that he was cornered and decided to take everyone down with him. The last thing Siddharth heard was the guttural scream of the child as the grenade landed.

The blast was deafening. The building rocked as Siddharth and his team were thrown backwards due to the intensity of the explosion. His head hit a compound wall and though his helmet absorbed the blow, he felt dizzy for a second. The world seemed to pause for a moment before the bitter cold silence followed.

Siddharth blinked through the dust, his ears ringing, vision blurred by smoke and debris. The taste of metal filled his mouth as his breath came out ragged. For a moment, he couldn't tell if the screams were real or echoes inside his head.

"Vikram- " he rasped, but his voice cracked. He forced himself to move, the weight of his rifle dragging against the rubble. His knees scraped the broken concrete as he crawled forward.

The house...or what was left of it, was burning. Flames licked at the splintered beams, the air thick with the stench of blood and gunpowder. He had wanted to avoid this situation from the very beginning but had miserably failed.

He found Rohan first, coughing, trying to pull himself up. "Major..." Rohan's voice was hoarse. "Anil's gone. Civilians- " He couldn't finish.

Siddharth staggered to his feet, swaying. His gaze fell on the shattered remains of the front room. The window where the woman had stood was nothing but jagged glass and smoke now. From the corner of his eye, he saw the tiny hand of a child no older than four. His vision blurred with unshed tears.

For a long second, he didn't move. Just stared. The cold hit him then. Not from the weather, but from inside. He tore off his helmet, his breath coming in harsh bursts. Not again, his mind screamed, but no sound left his throat.

Somewhere behind him, someone shouted for the medic, another for backup, but all he could hear was the faint, ghostly cry of the child echoing in his ears.

He dropped to his knees, the rifle still clutched in his hand. The weight that once steadied him now felt unbearable. His ears perked up when he heard a familiar name.

"Major Saab! Captain Anil Saab is alive!" Tariq shouted as medics rushed through the rubble. Siddharth's eyes turned misty and before he could respond, the world spun around him and he collapsed to the ground as blood flowed from his head.

***

Two days later, a steady beeping filled Siddharth's ears as he regained consciousness. His eyelids felt heavy and his head throbbed with pain. His nose stung with the sharp smell of antiseptic, and for a moment, he couldn't remember where he was. Then the smell of smoke and the echo of children screaming came rushing back.

He jolted awake, gasping as tears stung his eyes. Death wasn't new to him but this time, it cut deep. A firm hand pressed gently against his shoulder.

"Easy, Falcon. You're safe," a deep voice said.

Siddharth blinked hard until the room came into focus. His trained eyes scanned his surroundings in a second. It was a simple room with white walls, a faint hum of machines and the smell of hospital he always hated. His nose scrunched up, as if it could miraculously eliminate the smell. He heard a faint chuckle, and his hands immediately lifted into a salute.

"Took you long enough." Colonel Aditya Mishra said, standing by the bed in his olive-green uniform, face lined with exhaustion and a faint trace of relief.

"Sir..." Siddharth's throat was dry. "The mission- "

"- is over," Mishra cut in quietly. "Your men are safe. Rohan's stable. Tariq and Vikram made it through. Anil's in critical care, but he's holding on." he assured.

Siddharth swallowed hard, his jaw tightening. "But the civilians..." he rasped out. He knew their fate and it was all his fault. Mishra's silence said everything. His expression was calm, but his eyes gave him away.

Siddharth looked away, the weight of the words he didn't want to hear settling like a stone in his chest. He clenched his hands into fists. "I failed them," he whispered.

"Don't," Mishra said sharply. "Don't go down that road." Though Siddharth was his subordinate, Aditya treated him like a son. Siddharth was a man of few words. To people who didn't know him, he looked cold and aloof. He never showed an unnecessary emotion on his face. He was a man who could simply walk into a room full of punks and immediately command respect. But only Aditya knew that Siddharth's heart could melt faster than Kashmir's snow. Siddharth may not have shown his emotions outwardly, but he carried storms in his heart.

Siddharth's voice hardened. "Two children, Colonel. A woman. Amandeep..." He stopped himself, pressing a hand to his eyes. "All because of faulty intel. I should've seen it coming. My incompetence took so many innocent lives."

Mishra sighed, pulled a chair closer, and sat down, elbows resting on its armrest. It was time to be a therapist for Siddharth. He wouldn't normally do this for anyone because he had an image to maintain. But the punk in front of him wasn't just another subordinate. Though Aditya would never admit it out loud, he had a soft spot for Siddharth. "You followed the brief. You led your men the way a commanding officer should. The intel was compromised, not your leadership."

Siddharth didn't reply. The machines kept beeping, steady and indifferent but his mind was a mess. Though his ears heard Mishra's wise words, his heart blamed him for being a failure.

Seeing Siddharth's silence, Aditya realised that his words didn't change Siddharth's thoughts. He decided that being a therapist is not made for him, so he switched back to Colonel mode. "There's talk of a Court of Inquiry. Standard drill after civilian casualties."

Siddharth's eyes snapped up. "Court martial, sir?"

Mishra met his gaze squarely. "Not on my watch."

Siddharth stared at him, stunned. "Sir, that's- "

"Don't thank me," Mishra interrupted, leaning back in his chair. "I didn't do it for you. I did it because I know the kind of officer you are. You take responsibility for your men, for your missions, even for mistakes that aren't yours. But I'm here to discuss a different matter."

Siddharth sat up straighter, giving his superior his complete focus. Mishra was silent for a few moments and briefly glanced at the door. He confirmed that there were no ears listening in, then said quietly, "Tell me something, Siddharth... have you ever thought about working beyond the Line of Control?"

Siddharth frowned slightly. "Sir?"

"I'm not talking about another battalion posting," he continued. "I've been approached by someone from R&AW. They're looking for officers with operational experience. Men who can think on their feet, handle pressure, and keep their mouths shut. You fit that bill perfectly, and they asked for you specifically."

Siddharth blinked, taken aback. "Sir, with due respect... intelligence work isn't exactly my area."

Aditya gave a faint smile. "Neither was counter-insurgency when you started. You learned. You adapted. That's what makes you different."

He leaned forward, his tone soft but deliberate. "You have an instinct most officers don't. You see patterns, anticipate moves. Out there, that's survival. In R&AW, that's an asset. Your talent will be better used there than rotting behind a desk waiting for the next posting."

Siddharth exhaled slowly, the idea sinking in. "Sir, I'd have to leave the Army?" he asked after a pause.

Aditya's gaze softened. "You don't have to leave the Army, Siddharth. If you say yes, you'll be on long leave for the time being. You'll be recruited on a mission. If you complete it successfully, R&AW will recruit you and you'll be working as a Major and a R&AW Agent."

He rose from the chair and rested a hand on Siddharth's shoulder. "I'm not asking you to decide right now. I'll give you twenty-four hours. You're still recovering, and you've seen enough for one lifetime. I've already sanctioned two months' leave for you. Go home, get your head straight."

He paused at the door and turned back, his tone gentler now. "And, Siddharth... don't carry this guilt. You did your duty. Now it's time to decide what comes next."

Siddharth didn't answer, just nodded faintly. As Mishra left the room, the beeping of the heart monitor seemed louder than before.

***

Meanwhile, somewhere in the busy streets of Delhi, a man in his mid-fifties entered a bakery. He wore a faded maroon T-shirt with black track pants. His nose scrunched up as it picked up the smell of cakes and sweets. He wasn't born with a sweet tooth. He walked towards the cashier with his back straight as a rod.

"Is my order for 2196 Kachoris ready?" He asked.

The cashier, a bald man in his sixties, stilled for a moment when he heard the ID number, and looked up from behind his glasses that rested low on his nose. A pen whose cap was long lost was tucked neatly behind his ear.

"Confirm the samples, and we'll deliver it at noon." the cashier said, leading the man to a room behind the curtain. A young boy aged about ten, stopped sweeping when they entered and looked up at the strange man. "Raju, go deliver tea to lawyer saab's office." The cashier said and ushered the boy out. After making sure that the boy had left, he moved the heavy wooden cabinet and revealed a wooden door. He took out the keys from his pocket and opened the door which revealed a small room with no furniture. A heavy reinforced steel door with a keypad to its side stood like doom.

"I was informed of your arrival today Sinha Sab. I'm Ramesh Tiwari." he said, punching a few codes on into the keypad. The door whirred and opened to a sophisticated R&AW operations room. Both men stepped in and Ramesh immediately shut the door behind him. Multiple computers stood to the side and there was an entire wall with many TV screens. Some showed graphs, charts and maps with centain locations marked in red while others showed footages of spycams. R&AW's Joint Secretary, Arvind Sinha walked towards a bulletin board that held various photos of both targets and R&AW agents, with red threads connecting each other. Arvind's eyes scanned the Post-it notes which had scribbles of a familiar handwriting he'd recognize anywhere.

GHOST. R&AW's most efficient operative. The phantom whom R&AW didn't have to train, but learn from. Ghost was a respected name in R&AW, though nobody knew who Ghost was, except for a couple of higher officials. With zero failed missions and many successful operations, Ghost was a legend that new agents admired and seniors learned from. Nobody knew if Ghost was one man or a shadow network of operatives. Some said that Ghost was a myth R&AW created to invoke fear. But Arvind knew better, as he was one of the higher officials who'd met Ghost. And every time Ghost left a note, someone's life changed forever.

Arvind's eyes settled on a single photograph pinned in the center.

Major Siddharth Iyer

Code name: Falcon
Age: 35
Status: Acquitted
Potential: High

Beneath the photograph, a handwritten note in sharp, deliberate strokes read:
"Recruit him."
It was signed with two words that made even seasoned agents pause.

He took one last look at Siddharth's picture. The cold eyes of a soldier who had seen too much, and yet wasn't done fighting stared back at him. A faint smile ghosted across Arvind's face. Ramesh stood behind Arvind and sighed. "Looks like we're about to get another tiger cub," he said with a faint smile.

"Let's see what Falcon's made of." he murmured, turning off the lights as the room sank back into darkness.