Rudra arrived at the clearing five minutes early.
Old habit. Always scope the environment first. Always maintain tactical advantage.
The forest was quiet. Just crickets and wind through leaves. No sign of anyone.
But Karan didn't have a body to arrive with.
At exactly midnight, a laptop—perched on a flat rock—flickered to life.
The screen showed text: I'm here.
Rudra sat down across from it. "Can you hear me?"
Yes. I have access to the laptop's microphone.
"And you can see me?"
Through the webcam. Don't worry. I disabled recording. This conversation is private.
"How do I know you're really Karan? And not Malhotra using his systems?"
Because Malhotra doesn't know about the backdoor I created in his servers. And because I know things about you that Malhotra doesn't.
Rudra tensed. "Like what?"
Like why you were really sent to Kupam.
"I came for a field program. Same as everyone else."
No. You came because you were running. From something in your past. Something you've never told anyone.
Rudra's jaw clenched. "You're fishing."
Mumbai. Three years ago. The Ashworth Academy incident.
Rudra went still.
No one knew about that. No one.
You were there, the text continued. When the school burned down. When three students died. The official report said it was an electrical fire. Accidental. But it wasn't, was it?
"How do you know this?" Rudra demanded.
Because Malhotra investigated you. Thoroughly. Before selecting you for Kupam. He accessed sealed juvenile records. Hacked into police databases. He knew your history. And he chose you because of it.
"Why?"
Because you have a specific psychological profile. Trauma survivors who've learned to compartmentalize. Who've developed hypervigilance and strategic thinking as defense mechanisms. You're exactly what Project Rekha was designed to study.
Rudra stood. Paced. Heart pounding.
"The fire wasn't my fault," he said quietly.
I know. You tried to save them. But the building collapsed before you could get everyone out.
"How do you—"
I have access to your psychiatric evaluation. Court-ordered. After the incident. You blamed yourself. Developed severe PTSD. Trust issues. Emotional detachment.
"Stop."
You need to hear this, Rudra. Because it's important.
"Why is it important?"
Because Malhotra didn't just study you. He studied hundreds of students like you. Looking for a specific pattern. A specific type of survivor.
"What type?"
The kind who can function under extreme stress. Who can make impossible choices. Who can sacrifice anything—including themselves—to achieve an objective.
Rudra felt cold. "He was training soldiers."
Not just soldiers. Operatives. Spies. Assassins. People who could operate in hostile environments without emotional interference.
"For who? The government?"
Nexus Initiative. They're a private military contractor. They provide personnel for covert operations. Black ops. Things governments can't officially do.
"And they wanted teenagers?"
They wanted moldable minds. Young enough to be conditioned. Smart enough to be effective. Traumatized enough to have already learned how to survive.
Rudra sat back down heavily. "Jesus."
I'm sorry. I know this is a lot.
"How many students did he process?"
Over ten years? Forty-three. Some broke during testing and were released—with fabricated mental health diagnoses to discredit them if they ever talked. Some were deemed unsuitable and... terminated.
"How many completed the program?"
Seven. Including one who became me.
"What happened to the others?"
They're out there. Working for Nexus. Doing things most people can't imagine.
Rudra processed this. "Why are you telling me this?"
Because you need to understand what you're up against. Malhotra was just one operator. Nexus has dozens. Running similar programs across multiple countries.
"We have evidence. We've exposed Kupam. They'll shut down."
They'll adapt. Relocate. Rebrand. They've been doing this for decades. Kupam was just one node in a massive network.
"So what do we do?"
You have two choices. Walk away. Go back to your normal life. Let the system handle it.
"Or?"
Or you fight. All of you. Rudra. Anvi. Bhairav. Karan. You become what they tried to make you—but on your terms. You use their training against them.
"You're talking about war."
I'm talking about survival. Because Nexus doesn't forgive. Doesn't forget. You've exposed one of their operations. They'll come for you eventually.
"When?"
I don't know. But they'll wait. Let things calm down. Let you think you're safe. Then they'll strike.
Rudra stood again. Thinking. Calculating.
"What's the first rule?" he asked suddenly.
What?
"Project Rekha. You went through it. What's the first rule they teach?"
The screen was blank for a moment. Then: Trust no one. Not even yourself.
"Wrong," Rudra said. "That's what they want you to believe. But the real first rule—the one we make—is different."
Which is?
Rudra looked at the laptop camera. "Trust your team. Always. Because isolation is how they win. Unity is how we do."
You're building something, Karan realized.
"Yeah. A network. People like us. Survivors. People who've been through the system and came out fighting."
That's dangerous.
"So is doing nothing."
Fair point.
Rudra pulled out his phone. "Can you access secure communications? Encrypted channels?"
Of course.
"Good. Set up a private server. I'll bring in Anvi and Bhairav. You coordinate intelligence. We start mapping Nexus operations. Find other victims. Build a case so airtight they can't escape."
And then?
"Then we dismantle them. Piece by piece."
The screen flickered. I like this plan. It's ambitious. Probably impossible. Very likely to get us all killed.
"So you're in?"
I've been dead for three years. Might as well make it count.
Rudra almost smiled. "Welcome to the team, Karan."
One question though.
"Yeah?"
What do we call ourselves? Every good organization needs a name.
Rudra thought for a moment. "We're the ones who survived what they tried to do to us. We're proof they can fail."
So?
"Rekha means 'line' in Hindi. A boundary. A limit. They tried to draw lines around us. Define our limits."
And we crossed them.
"Exactly. So we're the ones who break through boundaries. Who refuse to be limited."
The Boundary Breakers?
"Too dramatic."
The Survivors?
"Too passive."
Rudra smiled slowly. "How about just... the Rekha Initiative. Taking their project name. Redefining it. Making it ours."
The screen displayed a simple response: Perfect.
Rudra stood, pocketing his phone. "Get the server ready. I'll contact the others tomorrow. We have work to do."
Rudra?
"Yeah?"
Thank you. For giving me purpose again. For making me part of something real.
"You saved our lives, Karan. This is the least we can do."
Rudra left the clearing.
Above him, stars glittered. The night vast and dark.
But for the first time since arriving in Kupam, Rudra didn't feel alone in it.
He had allies. A mission. A purpose.
And somewhere out there, Nexus was waiting.
But so were they.
The game had changed.
And this time, they were playing to win.