20-05-2026, 12:34 PM
(CHAPTER CONTD)
JULY 18th, 2004. 50 MILES OFF THE COAST OF VANKAREM , RUSSIA
The Chukchi Sea stretched endlessly under a grey, unforgiving sky, its waters cold enough to kill within minutes. Rising out of that frozen expanse stood the oil rig—steel bones creaking under the weight of wind and salt, now held hostage by a well-armed group of Chechen separatists. The platform had been turned into a fortress. Men in heavy snow gear patrolled every level, their rifles slung tight, eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of retaliation. They expected ships, aircraft, maybe even a direct assault.
They never thought to look beneath them.
Inside the rig, the situation was worse. The workers had been divided into five groups and locked into separate compartments. Their hands bound, mouths gagged, fear hanging thick in the air. Guards rotated between the rooms, keeping watch with mechanical discipline. Explosive charges had been rigged at key structural points—not just leverage, but a final threat if anything went wrong.
A mile out, far below the surface, something else moved in silence.
The USS Virginia hovered at approximately 120 feet beneath sea level, its presence completely undetectable. No noise, no signal—just a shadow in the water. From its forward tubes, two cylindrical pods were deployed, slipping out into the dark like predators leaving cover. They began a slow, controlled ascent toward the rig.
Inside those pods, the SENTINEL strike team waited.
The vehicles reached the submerged lower structure of the platform and locked into position. The hatches opened, and one by one, the operators stepped out into the freezing water, their movements precise and practiced. They moved upward along the rig’s skeletal frame, using specialized climbing rigs to scale toward the maintenance level just below the surface.
Two guards stood near the lower railing, unaware.
They didn’t hear the water shift.
They didn’t see the hands that reached out.
Each was pulled down in a single motion, dragged beneath the surface before they could react. Blades flashed briefly in the dark water, and both bodies went still before sinking into the depths.
The strike team entered through the lower access point without raising an alarm.
Inside the rig’s basement corridor, the team removed their underwater gear and regrouped. Masks came off, breathers detached, weapons checked. The dim lighting flickered slightly, casting long shadows along the metal walls.
William J Irons stood at the front, steady as ever. Beside him, Hemant and Dan adjusted their gear, now fully transitioned into combat mode. Two additional operators stood with them—Sharon, codename Phoenix, and Sachiko codename Jinx, silent and focused.
Dan glanced briefly at Sachiko, still carrying a hint of distraction from when he’d first seen her back at the Alaska facility. Hemant noticed, but didn’t comment.
"Check in" Will said quietly.
"King, ready" Hemant responded.
"Stallion, good to go" Dan added.
Phoenix and Jinx confirmed as well.
Will gave a small nod.
"We move fast and quiet. Five rooms, five groups. Same pattern throughout"
Hemant took point without hesitation. The team moved upward through a narrow staircase, boots landing softly despite the metal structure. Every corner was cleared with precision, every movement deliberate. Hemant slowed near the next landing, raising a hand slightly.
"There’s someone above" he said into comms, voice low.
Dan shifted position behind him.
"Clear Shot"
"Smoke em"
Hemant leaned just enough to get a clear line. A suppressed shot followed—clean, controlled. The militant dropped instantly, his body collapsing against the railing before slipping into the sea below. No alarm. They continued. The first hostage room was located along the mid-deck corridor. Sharon stepped forward, checking her thermal reader.
"Two inside, armed. One near the door, one towards the back" she said.
"We take them together" Sachiko moved beside her, weapon ready.
There were two entry points. The team split accordingly.
Hemant and Will positioned themselves at the far door while Sharon, Sachiko, and Dan took the near one. Charges were set quickly, each team syncing their timing through silent hand signals.
"Three… two… one"
Both doors blew open in perfect coordination.
The entry was fast and controlled. Will neutralized the first guard before he could react, while Sharon took down the second with a clean shot. Sachiko covered the room, scanning for movement, while Dan moved straight to the hostages.
"Clear" Hemant confirmed.
They worked quickly, removing restraints and disabling the explosive triggers placed near the group. Will signaled into comms for extraction support.
"First group secured. Send in retrieval"
Within moments, a secondary SENTINEL unit began moving in to escort the freed workers. The process repeated across the next three compartments. Each room presented slight variations—different guard placements, tighter spaces, more complex rigging—but the team adapted without slowing down. Hemant’s awareness stood out. He picked up on subtle movements, faint sounds, and potential threats before they fully formed, allowing the team to stay ahead of the situation. By the time they cleared the fourth room, the operation had gone nearly perfect. Almost too perfect.
The shift came suddenly. An alarm triggered across the rig, sharp and loud, breaking the silence they had maintained. Somewhere, something had tipped off the remaining militants.
"Looks like Stealth is optional now!" Dan said.
"Last group is at the top" Will replied.
The upper levels quickly became more difficult to navigate. Militants began repositioning, setting up defensive angles and deploying gas canisters along key corridors. Thick smoke started filling sections of the rig, reducing visibility.
But SENTINEL had anticipated that.
Their secondary optics activated—infrared cutting through the haze. Hemant led the push upward, movements sharper now, faster but still controlled. Each engagement was decisive. Targets were identified and neutralized before they could coordinate a proper defense. Dan covered angles from behind, ensuring no one slipped through.
Sharon and Sachiko maintained flanks, clearing corners with efficiency. The resistance was stronger—but not enough. The final room sat at the highest enclosed section of the rig. This time, there was no stealth left. The team breached under pressure, taking out the remaining guards in a rapid exchange. Within seconds, the space was secured.
"Last group clear" Hemant said.
Hostages were freed, restraints cut, explosives disarmed. For the first time since the mission began, there was a brief pause.
Then Will spoke.
"That’s it. We’re done here"
Extraction moved quickly.
The team made their way to the helipad as the sound of approaching aircraft cut through the wind. Two SENTINEL transport helicopters descended, stabilizing against the harsh Arctic gusts.
"Russian forces are inbound" Will said.
One by one, the operators boarded. Hemant stepped onto the helicopter last, taking one final look at the rig below—now quiet, secured, no longer under hostile control.
The mission had gone clean. Efficient. Exactly as planned.
As the helicopters lifted off and turned toward open waters, the oil rig shrank beneath them, soon becoming just another structure in the vast emptiness of the Chukchi Sea. Inside the cabin, no one celebrated. They simply checked their gear, reset their focus, and prepared for what came next.
SENTINEL OPERATIONS BASE , ESPENBERG , ALASKA
![[Image: Sentinel-Force.png]](https://i.ibb.co/bRBgN5v0/Sentinel-Force.png)
The cold carried the same sharp edge of the Temporary Operations Base here. The bay stretched out in front of the base, grey water meeting a pale horizon, the kind of view that made everything seem still even when it wasn’t. Hemant stepped out briefly before reporting in and noticed Dan standing near the viewing deck, talking to Sachiko. Their conversation looked easy, unforced—Dan gesturing animatedly, Sachiko responding with the occasional nod and a faint smile. It was enough to make Hemant pause for a second before turning away. Whatever this place was, it was already starting to leave its mark on both of them in different ways.
A call came through soon after, directing Hemant to the command center. Inside, the atmosphere shifted immediately from calm to purposeful. William J Irons stood near a central table, with Sharon reviewing data on a screen. Around them were several sealed crates stacked in an orderly manner. Hemant’s attention went straight to them—not because of their placement, but because of what was stamped on their surface.
The same blue symbol. The one he hadn’t been able to get out of his head since Bogdang.He walked closer, studying it briefly before asking.
"These from the rig?"
"Part of what we recovered" Will nodded.
"Are they smuggline Weapons?" Hemant tapped lightly on one of the crates.
"Its actually something....Worse" Will gave a slight shake of his head.
Sharon keyed in a command, and one of the crates was opened. Inside were tightly packed, sealed packages. Even without being told, Hemant understood what he was looking at.
"Cocaine. Safe to say its originated and produced in Russia , with its destination somewhere else"
Will said plainly. Hemant’s expression tightened slightly.
"So the rig wasn't just a hostage crisis"
"Exactly , the takeover was meant for a safe passage of these drugs to the United States"
Will replied. He stepped closer to the table and brought up a set of files.
"Mr.King , Its time you knew what who you're opponents were!"
Hemant listened without interrupting.
"The symbol you’ve been seeing—it belongs to a network we’ve been tracking for years"
Will continued.
"In the whispers and intel , we learned this organization is called AZRAEL. Named after the six heads of its leaders and their place of origin. Not a typical syndicate. No public structure, no visible leadership. It goes back to the Cold War—in the chaos of a massive unrest around the world. This empire rose in those chaos!"
He paused briefly, letting that settle.
"They used that environment to build something bigger than smuggling. Though majority of their smuggling included Drugs , it evolved into arms, human trafficking—everything runs through different layers. The Chechen group on the rig? Just one of those layers. They move product across routes like Alaska into North America. In return, they get weapons, funding, support"
"Interesting that they chose the name Azrael , they've taken the name inspired from the ---c and Jewish mythos. The legendary Angel Of Death , Azrael. Though in the folkore , he is an angel who takes the soul from the dead. Here , the definition is twisted. This syndicate is just a plague of death , anyone and everyone that tried to expose it as either vanished or dead"
Hemant folded his arms slightly.
"I knew you were special , and yes , you are right. They are giving a twisted meaning to AZRAEL here"
Will said.
"And the more terrifying part is—we still don’t know who ‘they’ are"
Sharon added.
"There are links. Fragments. Some connections to elements within the Russian Bratva. Some to Chinese Triad networks. But nothing solid enough to point to a central command"
Will continued.
"The Central Intelligence Agency has been trying to piece it together. So have others. But AZRAEL stayed buried. No faces. No confirmed identities. The heads of this snake always stayed below the ground. It simply functioned with its minions carrying and doing their dirty work"
"Which makes them harder to track and neutralize"
Hemant looked back at the crate, then at the symbol again.
"And more dangerous" Will said.
"Because they’re expanding. Invisibly around the world , hiding from everyone's eyes. AZRAEL is corrupting big techs , world leaders and is forming a large web of control and power around the globe. If they're not stopped now , they will be too powerful and become the new world order!"
There was a brief silence before Will shifted the conversation.
"This is why I asked you to come here, because I don't see just a good soldier , I see a perfect warrior that can hunt and destroy this empire of shadows with your skillset"
He said. Hemant didn’t respond immediately.
"We need people who can operate outside limits, people who won't be corrupted by these shaodws and eventually bring light in erasing it"
Will continued.
"People who can step into situations like this and push back before it spreads further. More than a soldier , more than a spy. Someone who can face them head on and won't falter. Which is my proposal to you Mr.Kumar"
"I want you to join SENTINEL. I want you to level up , and serve a higher purpose. One that will not only save your country but the entire world!"
He held Hemant’s gaze. The offer wasn’t dramatic. It was direct. Hemant exhaled slightly before answering.
"I already have a purpose. To the Garud Commando Force. To my unit"
Will nodded, as if he expected that answer.
"I get that Mr.Kumar. I was committed too. I was a proud US Marine. Same for Sharon. That doesn’t change overnight. But we had to because we knew no one were more capable of doing this than us. Sometimes we have to evolve from what we are for the greater good"
"All for a higher purpose. To save the world!" Sharon added quietly,
"This isn’t about replacing where you come from. It’s about where you can be more effective. What you can actually influence"
Will continued, he gestured toward the crates.
"AZRAEL is not just a powerful organization , its a Virus. And its spreading its corruption across the world. If we don't contain or destroy it now , tomorrow it will be too late for any of us..."
Hemant remained thoughtful, not dismissive—but not convinced either.
"I’m not asking you to decide now" Will said.
"Just understand what’s out there. And what you’re capable of doing about it"
The conversation ended there. No pressure, no insistence. But the weight of it stayed. Outside, the cold air felt sharper than before. Hemant walked back toward the open deck area, his thoughts quieter but heavier. Dan was just stepping away from Sachiko, hands in his pockets, looking unusually relaxed.
"What's the matter? planning to hook up with her Tonight?" Hemant gave him a slight look.
"Mind your business Mr.Know it all. It ain't like that. But I have to admit , I always believed japanese women are something but.......she basically proves it true"
Dan smirked.
"Well.....I hope you had a good time" Hemant replied.
"Good times are yet to come"
They started walking back together. On the return flight later that day, the tone shifted back to something more familiar. The hum of the aircraft, the long stretch of sky, and the knowledge that they were heading back to Rajasthan.
"So… what’s going on in that head of yours?" Dan leaned back in his seat.
"Nothing urgent" Hemant looked out the window for a moment before answering.
"That usually means something’s definitely going on" Dan raised an eyebrow.
"We’re heading back to our favorite oven in Nal. That is something that must be going on"
Hemant gave a faint smile.
"You know , I would agree with you before. But after spending months there , I don't think that tracks anymore. Nal might be a steaming furnace , but I think I like the heat now!"
Dan laughed lightly. That made Hemant glance at him.
"Oh , so you like Nal now huh?"
"Yeah , its growing on me" Dan admitted.
Hemant nodded slowly, taking that in. That was the thing—Nal had started to feel familiar. Predictable. In some ways, even grounding. And yet, what he had just seen in Alaska didn’t fit into that world. As the aircraft moved steadily toward Rajasthan, Hemant leaned back and let the thoughts settle without forcing an answer. One path was clear, structured, defined by duty and command. The other was uncertain, wider, and carried a different kind of responsibility.
He didn’t choose between them yet.
But for the first time, he was seriously considering that he might have to.
The return to Nal Air Force Station was quieter than their departure. The same unmarked Lockheed C-130 Hercules touched down on the runway under the harsh Rajasthan sun, its engines winding down as if nothing extraordinary had just happened beyond the horizon of ordinary duty. For everyone else on the base, it was just another arrival. For Hemant and Dan, it marked a subtle shift—something had changed, even if it wasn’t visible yet.
Near the hangars, Pranali 'Rani' Gupta was the first to greet them. She walked up with her usual ease, wiping her hands on a cloth, her tone light as ever.
"You two finally back" she said.
"Hangar’s been too peaceful. I almost missed having someone do the heavy lifting for me"
"You mean you missed free labor" Dan chuckled, adjusting his bag.
"Same thing" Rani smirked.
Hemant gave a brief nod, the kind that acknowledged the moment without stepping fully into it. The rhythm of the base resumed almost instantly. Orders were picked up, routines fell back into place, and within hours, the Garud squad was once again part of the system—guarding, maintaining, observing.
On the surface, nothing had changed.
Inside the hangar, Hemant returned to work with a focus that felt sharper than before. Tools in hand, systems laid out in front of him, he moved with quiet efficiency. The environment was familiar—the hum of machinery, the smell of fuel, the distant sound of aircraft engines—but his attention stayed locked on the task in front of him.
Kirti Raghuvanshi was there too. And for the first time since they had met, Hemant didn’t acknowledge her presence. Not even in passing. No glance, no pause, no moment of hesitation. He worked as if she wasn’t there. At first, it went unnoticed. Then it didn’t. Kirti picked up on it gradually—the absence of something that had once been constant. Those brief exchanges of eye contact, the quiet awareness they had of each other, even the awkwardness—it had all disappeared. In its place was something colder. Not hostility, not anger—just distance.
And it unsettled her more than she expected. Hemant’s detachment wasn’t only about her. Part of it came from her words that day—clear, firm, leaving no room for misunderstanding. He had respected that boundary. But beyond that, something else had taken over his thoughts.
SENTINEL.
The conversation with William J Irons hadn’t faded. If anything, it had settled deeper. The idea of stepping beyond structured duty, of operating without limits, of confronting something like AZRAEL at its root—it aligned too closely with the life he had always imagined for himself.
The edge. The unknown. The purpose beyond routine. In his spare time, that restlessness began to take form. At one corner of Rani’s hangar, away from the usual workflow, Hemant started working on something of his own. It began with a simple concept—a tool he had used before, something instinctive to him. A hatchet. But this time, he modified it. Reinforced the head, balanced the weight, and attached it to a chain instead of rope, welding the links himself to ensure durability.
The result wasn’t just a weapon—it was something more personal. A memory translated into steel.
He remembered being fifteen, back in Panthalam , Kerala. Despite moving to Mumbai , the summers still spent in his native lands. Where rice fields and nature dominated the aroma and ambience , Hemant trained in Kalari at his uncle's training grounds, when his uncle had first handed him the Kalaripayattu weapon known as the urumi—a flexible, whip-like blade that required precision, control, and complete awareness of movement. It wasn’t just about striking; it was about flow.
This new weapon—hatchet and chain—felt like a modern echo of that.
![[Image: Hemant-WEapon1.png]](https://i.ibb.co/k2t4fQxt/Hemant-WEapon1.png)
A blade that could control and unleash chaos.
When Rani noticed him working on it one evening, she paused, watching him test the balance.
"That doesn’t look standard issue" she said.
"It isn’t" Hemant replied.
"You made this?" She stepped closer, studying it.
"Weapon smithing is something of an expertise for me. I've grown attached to hatchets since my first deployment. This is me honoring my legacy and my roots"
He nodded. Rani raised an eyebrow.
"Didn’t know you were into this"
"Even though I was raised in a small village in Kerala. It had significance and divinity. I grew up learning about the legendary young warrior Manikanda who is worshipped as Lord Ayyappa to the world . From a young age I loved martial arts , and my families connection to Kalari through my uncle made me an easy influence. Even after moving to Mumbai for higher studies didn't stop my training in the summers at Kerala. Though my mother claims my liking towards it helped her in me never becoming a naughty and spoilt child!!"
He said. There was no showmanship in how he said it—just quiet confidence. Rani nodded slowly, taking it in.
"You are full of surprises Hemant Kumar!"
Meanwhile, the distance between him and Kirti continued to widen. At first, she tried to ignore it. Then she tried to counter it. She spent more time around Vishal, leaning into conversations, laughing a bit louder, staying back a bit longer. It wasn’t entirely forced—but there was an intent behind it now. She expected a reaction. There wasn’t one. Hemant didn’t look. Didn’t pause. Didn’t acknowledge. And that… began to bother her. More than his earlier attention ever had. Over time, that unease started to affect her focus.
It showed in small ways first—slight delays in response, minor miscalculations during simulation drills. Then it became more visible. During sorties, her precision slipped just enough to be noticeable. Not enough to fail—but enough to raise questions. One afternoon, after a less-than-clean run, a senior officer pulled her aside.
"Everything alright Kira?" he asked.
"Yes, sir" Kirti nodded instinctively.
"Doesn't seem to me judging from your performance lately" he replied calmly.
She acknowledged it, but the conversation lingered. Because she knew. Something was off. Back in the hangar, Hemant remained unchanged. Focused. Detached. Moving from one task to another with the same steady discipline. If he noticed her struggle, he didn’t show it. His attention had shifted entirely toward what lay ahead.
The upcoming deployment under a United Nations charter in Democratic Republic of the Congo was approaching fast. Briefings had started, logistics were being finalized, and the Garud unit was preparing for another transition—from base duty to active field operations. For Hemant, it was more than just another mission. It was movement.
Forward.
And somewhere beneath all of that—quiet, unresolved, but present—Was the question he hadn’t answered yet. Whether he belonged here… or somewhere far beyond it.
The days leading up to deployment grew heavier at Nal Air Force Station. What had started as a standard international assignment was quickly evolving into something far more serious. Briefings became longer, more frequent, and far more detailed. Hemant and Dan found themselves spending less time in routine duties and more time studying maps, intelligence summaries, and contingency plans.
The update came during one of those briefings. Their stay in Kinshasa had been reduced—from one month to just one week. No one needed to ask why. The intelligence reports made it clear. The situation in the Democratic Republic of the Congo was deteriorating rapidly. Illegal extraction and smuggling of gold and coltan had surged, fueling the rise of armed militias that appeared and disappeared just as quickly. Loyalties shifted overnight, alliances broke without warning, and entire regions were slipping into chaos. What was once a volatile environment had now become a pressure cooker.
The United Nations wasn’t just observing anymore—they were reacting. The decision to deploy a relatively new unit like the Garud Commando Force into such a situation reflected both urgency and calculated risk. There was no room for prolonged engagement. The mission would be short, precise, and highly controlled.
Hemant and Dan adjusted accordingly.
Their discussions shifted from broad strategy to tight execution. Entry protocols, extraction timing, communication discipline—everything was refined. There was an understanding between them that this wasn’t a place where mistakes could be corrected easily. The margin for error was thin.
"Seven days" Dan said one evening, reviewing their notes.
"Things might be quiet intense for them to reduce the timeline that small"
"I've been reading the news. Things are pretty tense there , that country is still recovering from a bloody civil war few years back , even their government is in shambles...the humanitarian crisis is out of control which is why UN stepped in with assistance to the poor"
Hemant replied. Dan nodded.
The day of departure arrived with a different kind of atmosphere.
Unlike their previous missions, this one wasn’t hidden. The involvement of Garuda had been announced, at least within military circles. People knew they were going. That alone changed how the base felt. There was more attention, more quiet observation, and a sense that this mission carried expectations beyond just execution.
Transport aircraft lined the runway, ready.
The squad assembled near the boarding area, gear checked and rechecked. New members who had recently been integrated into the Garuda unit stood alongside Hemant and Dan, some focused, some quietly processing the weight of what lay ahead.
Goodbyes were brief but meaningful.
Rani approached first, arms folded as usual, but her tone softer than usual.
"Try not to come back with more work for me" she said.
"No promises" Dan smiled.
"Take care of them" She looked at Hemant.
"Always" He nodded.
Vishal Agnihotri stepped in next, offering a firm handshake.
"Heard it’s rough out there...Just… stay sharp" he said.
"We will" Hemant replied.
There was mutual respect in the exchange—no competition, no tension. Just acknowledgment. Kirti stood a little apart. Kirti Raghuvanshi didn’t approach immediately. She watched as the others finished their exchanges, her expression composed but quieter than usual. When Hemant finally walked toward the aircraft, their paths crossed naturally.
She spoke first.
"Take care"
Simple. Direct. Hemant nodded slightly.
"You too"
There was a brief pause before he added, almost matter-of-factly,
"Focus on your sorties...this base and this country need its best pilots...and you are one of them!"
Kirti didn’t react immediately, but she understood what he meant. There was no judgment in his tone—just observation.
"I will" she said.
That was it.
No extended conversation. No unresolved tension surfacing. Just two people acknowledging each other before going their separate ways. Boarding was quick. Inside the aircraft, the atmosphere shifted from personal to professional. Seats were taken, gear secured, final checks completed. The engines roared to life, and within minutes, the plane began its ascent. As the base shrank below them, Hemant leaned back slightly, his focus already moving ahead.
"Back to work" Dan glanced over.
"Yeah" Hemant said.
Outside, the landscape changed gradually as they gained altitude, the familiar terrain of Rajasthan giving way to open sky. Inside, conversations quieted.
Each man and woman onboard understood what this mission represented—not just for themselves, but for the Garuda unit as a whole. This was their first major international deployment under global scrutiny. Expectations were high. And the environment they were heading into would test more than just their training.
Hemant closed his eyes briefly—not to rest, but to center himself. The distractions, the uncertainties, the unresolved thoughts—they all took a step back. Because what lay ahead demanded clarity. And in that moment, as the aircraft carried them toward a continent defined by conflict and complexity, there was only one thing that mattered.
Execution.
(TO BE CONTD)
The Chukchi Sea stretched endlessly under a grey, unforgiving sky, its waters cold enough to kill within minutes. Rising out of that frozen expanse stood the oil rig—steel bones creaking under the weight of wind and salt, now held hostage by a well-armed group of Chechen separatists. The platform had been turned into a fortress. Men in heavy snow gear patrolled every level, their rifles slung tight, eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of retaliation. They expected ships, aircraft, maybe even a direct assault.
They never thought to look beneath them.
Inside the rig, the situation was worse. The workers had been divided into five groups and locked into separate compartments. Their hands bound, mouths gagged, fear hanging thick in the air. Guards rotated between the rooms, keeping watch with mechanical discipline. Explosive charges had been rigged at key structural points—not just leverage, but a final threat if anything went wrong.
A mile out, far below the surface, something else moved in silence.
The USS Virginia hovered at approximately 120 feet beneath sea level, its presence completely undetectable. No noise, no signal—just a shadow in the water. From its forward tubes, two cylindrical pods were deployed, slipping out into the dark like predators leaving cover. They began a slow, controlled ascent toward the rig.
Inside those pods, the SENTINEL strike team waited.
The vehicles reached the submerged lower structure of the platform and locked into position. The hatches opened, and one by one, the operators stepped out into the freezing water, their movements precise and practiced. They moved upward along the rig’s skeletal frame, using specialized climbing rigs to scale toward the maintenance level just below the surface.
Two guards stood near the lower railing, unaware.
They didn’t hear the water shift.
They didn’t see the hands that reached out.
Each was pulled down in a single motion, dragged beneath the surface before they could react. Blades flashed briefly in the dark water, and both bodies went still before sinking into the depths.
The strike team entered through the lower access point without raising an alarm.
Inside the rig’s basement corridor, the team removed their underwater gear and regrouped. Masks came off, breathers detached, weapons checked. The dim lighting flickered slightly, casting long shadows along the metal walls.
William J Irons stood at the front, steady as ever. Beside him, Hemant and Dan adjusted their gear, now fully transitioned into combat mode. Two additional operators stood with them—Sharon, codename Phoenix, and Sachiko codename Jinx, silent and focused.
Dan glanced briefly at Sachiko, still carrying a hint of distraction from when he’d first seen her back at the Alaska facility. Hemant noticed, but didn’t comment.
"Check in" Will said quietly.
"King, ready" Hemant responded.
"Stallion, good to go" Dan added.
Phoenix and Jinx confirmed as well.
Will gave a small nod.
"We move fast and quiet. Five rooms, five groups. Same pattern throughout"
Hemant took point without hesitation. The team moved upward through a narrow staircase, boots landing softly despite the metal structure. Every corner was cleared with precision, every movement deliberate. Hemant slowed near the next landing, raising a hand slightly.
"There’s someone above" he said into comms, voice low.
Dan shifted position behind him.
"Clear Shot"
"Smoke em"
Hemant leaned just enough to get a clear line. A suppressed shot followed—clean, controlled. The militant dropped instantly, his body collapsing against the railing before slipping into the sea below. No alarm. They continued. The first hostage room was located along the mid-deck corridor. Sharon stepped forward, checking her thermal reader.
"Two inside, armed. One near the door, one towards the back" she said.
"We take them together" Sachiko moved beside her, weapon ready.
There were two entry points. The team split accordingly.
Hemant and Will positioned themselves at the far door while Sharon, Sachiko, and Dan took the near one. Charges were set quickly, each team syncing their timing through silent hand signals.
"Three… two… one"
Both doors blew open in perfect coordination.
The entry was fast and controlled. Will neutralized the first guard before he could react, while Sharon took down the second with a clean shot. Sachiko covered the room, scanning for movement, while Dan moved straight to the hostages.
"Clear" Hemant confirmed.
They worked quickly, removing restraints and disabling the explosive triggers placed near the group. Will signaled into comms for extraction support.
"First group secured. Send in retrieval"
Within moments, a secondary SENTINEL unit began moving in to escort the freed workers. The process repeated across the next three compartments. Each room presented slight variations—different guard placements, tighter spaces, more complex rigging—but the team adapted without slowing down. Hemant’s awareness stood out. He picked up on subtle movements, faint sounds, and potential threats before they fully formed, allowing the team to stay ahead of the situation. By the time they cleared the fourth room, the operation had gone nearly perfect. Almost too perfect.
The shift came suddenly. An alarm triggered across the rig, sharp and loud, breaking the silence they had maintained. Somewhere, something had tipped off the remaining militants.
"Looks like Stealth is optional now!" Dan said.
"Last group is at the top" Will replied.
The upper levels quickly became more difficult to navigate. Militants began repositioning, setting up defensive angles and deploying gas canisters along key corridors. Thick smoke started filling sections of the rig, reducing visibility.
But SENTINEL had anticipated that.
Their secondary optics activated—infrared cutting through the haze. Hemant led the push upward, movements sharper now, faster but still controlled. Each engagement was decisive. Targets were identified and neutralized before they could coordinate a proper defense. Dan covered angles from behind, ensuring no one slipped through.
Sharon and Sachiko maintained flanks, clearing corners with efficiency. The resistance was stronger—but not enough. The final room sat at the highest enclosed section of the rig. This time, there was no stealth left. The team breached under pressure, taking out the remaining guards in a rapid exchange. Within seconds, the space was secured.
"Last group clear" Hemant said.
Hostages were freed, restraints cut, explosives disarmed. For the first time since the mission began, there was a brief pause.
Then Will spoke.
"That’s it. We’re done here"
Extraction moved quickly.
The team made their way to the helipad as the sound of approaching aircraft cut through the wind. Two SENTINEL transport helicopters descended, stabilizing against the harsh Arctic gusts.
"Russian forces are inbound" Will said.
One by one, the operators boarded. Hemant stepped onto the helicopter last, taking one final look at the rig below—now quiet, secured, no longer under hostile control.
The mission had gone clean. Efficient. Exactly as planned.
As the helicopters lifted off and turned toward open waters, the oil rig shrank beneath them, soon becoming just another structure in the vast emptiness of the Chukchi Sea. Inside the cabin, no one celebrated. They simply checked their gear, reset their focus, and prepared for what came next.
SENTINEL OPERATIONS BASE , ESPENBERG , ALASKA
The cold carried the same sharp edge of the Temporary Operations Base here. The bay stretched out in front of the base, grey water meeting a pale horizon, the kind of view that made everything seem still even when it wasn’t. Hemant stepped out briefly before reporting in and noticed Dan standing near the viewing deck, talking to Sachiko. Their conversation looked easy, unforced—Dan gesturing animatedly, Sachiko responding with the occasional nod and a faint smile. It was enough to make Hemant pause for a second before turning away. Whatever this place was, it was already starting to leave its mark on both of them in different ways.
A call came through soon after, directing Hemant to the command center. Inside, the atmosphere shifted immediately from calm to purposeful. William J Irons stood near a central table, with Sharon reviewing data on a screen. Around them were several sealed crates stacked in an orderly manner. Hemant’s attention went straight to them—not because of their placement, but because of what was stamped on their surface.
The same blue symbol. The one he hadn’t been able to get out of his head since Bogdang.He walked closer, studying it briefly before asking.
"These from the rig?"
"Part of what we recovered" Will nodded.
"Are they smuggline Weapons?" Hemant tapped lightly on one of the crates.
"Its actually something....Worse" Will gave a slight shake of his head.
Sharon keyed in a command, and one of the crates was opened. Inside were tightly packed, sealed packages. Even without being told, Hemant understood what he was looking at.
"Cocaine. Safe to say its originated and produced in Russia , with its destination somewhere else"
Will said plainly. Hemant’s expression tightened slightly.
"So the rig wasn't just a hostage crisis"
"Exactly , the takeover was meant for a safe passage of these drugs to the United States"
Will replied. He stepped closer to the table and brought up a set of files.
"Mr.King , Its time you knew what who you're opponents were!"
Hemant listened without interrupting.
"The symbol you’ve been seeing—it belongs to a network we’ve been tracking for years"
Will continued.
"In the whispers and intel , we learned this organization is called AZRAEL. Named after the six heads of its leaders and their place of origin. Not a typical syndicate. No public structure, no visible leadership. It goes back to the Cold War—in the chaos of a massive unrest around the world. This empire rose in those chaos!"
He paused briefly, letting that settle.
"They used that environment to build something bigger than smuggling. Though majority of their smuggling included Drugs , it evolved into arms, human trafficking—everything runs through different layers. The Chechen group on the rig? Just one of those layers. They move product across routes like Alaska into North America. In return, they get weapons, funding, support"
"Interesting that they chose the name Azrael , they've taken the name inspired from the ---c and Jewish mythos. The legendary Angel Of Death , Azrael. Though in the folkore , he is an angel who takes the soul from the dead. Here , the definition is twisted. This syndicate is just a plague of death , anyone and everyone that tried to expose it as either vanished or dead"
Hemant folded his arms slightly.
"I knew you were special , and yes , you are right. They are giving a twisted meaning to AZRAEL here"
Will said.
"And the more terrifying part is—we still don’t know who ‘they’ are"
Sharon added.
"There are links. Fragments. Some connections to elements within the Russian Bratva. Some to Chinese Triad networks. But nothing solid enough to point to a central command"
Will continued.
"The Central Intelligence Agency has been trying to piece it together. So have others. But AZRAEL stayed buried. No faces. No confirmed identities. The heads of this snake always stayed below the ground. It simply functioned with its minions carrying and doing their dirty work"
"Which makes them harder to track and neutralize"
Hemant looked back at the crate, then at the symbol again.
"And more dangerous" Will said.
"Because they’re expanding. Invisibly around the world , hiding from everyone's eyes. AZRAEL is corrupting big techs , world leaders and is forming a large web of control and power around the globe. If they're not stopped now , they will be too powerful and become the new world order!"
There was a brief silence before Will shifted the conversation.
"This is why I asked you to come here, because I don't see just a good soldier , I see a perfect warrior that can hunt and destroy this empire of shadows with your skillset"
He said. Hemant didn’t respond immediately.
"We need people who can operate outside limits, people who won't be corrupted by these shaodws and eventually bring light in erasing it"
Will continued.
"People who can step into situations like this and push back before it spreads further. More than a soldier , more than a spy. Someone who can face them head on and won't falter. Which is my proposal to you Mr.Kumar"
"I want you to join SENTINEL. I want you to level up , and serve a higher purpose. One that will not only save your country but the entire world!"
He held Hemant’s gaze. The offer wasn’t dramatic. It was direct. Hemant exhaled slightly before answering.
"I already have a purpose. To the Garud Commando Force. To my unit"
Will nodded, as if he expected that answer.
"I get that Mr.Kumar. I was committed too. I was a proud US Marine. Same for Sharon. That doesn’t change overnight. But we had to because we knew no one were more capable of doing this than us. Sometimes we have to evolve from what we are for the greater good"
"All for a higher purpose. To save the world!" Sharon added quietly,
"This isn’t about replacing where you come from. It’s about where you can be more effective. What you can actually influence"
Will continued, he gestured toward the crates.
"AZRAEL is not just a powerful organization , its a Virus. And its spreading its corruption across the world. If we don't contain or destroy it now , tomorrow it will be too late for any of us..."
Hemant remained thoughtful, not dismissive—but not convinced either.
"I’m not asking you to decide now" Will said.
"Just understand what’s out there. And what you’re capable of doing about it"
The conversation ended there. No pressure, no insistence. But the weight of it stayed. Outside, the cold air felt sharper than before. Hemant walked back toward the open deck area, his thoughts quieter but heavier. Dan was just stepping away from Sachiko, hands in his pockets, looking unusually relaxed.
"What's the matter? planning to hook up with her Tonight?" Hemant gave him a slight look.
"Mind your business Mr.Know it all. It ain't like that. But I have to admit , I always believed japanese women are something but.......she basically proves it true"
Dan smirked.
"Well.....I hope you had a good time" Hemant replied.
"Good times are yet to come"
They started walking back together. On the return flight later that day, the tone shifted back to something more familiar. The hum of the aircraft, the long stretch of sky, and the knowledge that they were heading back to Rajasthan.
"So… what’s going on in that head of yours?" Dan leaned back in his seat.
"Nothing urgent" Hemant looked out the window for a moment before answering.
"That usually means something’s definitely going on" Dan raised an eyebrow.
"We’re heading back to our favorite oven in Nal. That is something that must be going on"
Hemant gave a faint smile.
"You know , I would agree with you before. But after spending months there , I don't think that tracks anymore. Nal might be a steaming furnace , but I think I like the heat now!"
Dan laughed lightly. That made Hemant glance at him.
"Oh , so you like Nal now huh?"
"Yeah , its growing on me" Dan admitted.
Hemant nodded slowly, taking that in. That was the thing—Nal had started to feel familiar. Predictable. In some ways, even grounding. And yet, what he had just seen in Alaska didn’t fit into that world. As the aircraft moved steadily toward Rajasthan, Hemant leaned back and let the thoughts settle without forcing an answer. One path was clear, structured, defined by duty and command. The other was uncertain, wider, and carried a different kind of responsibility.
He didn’t choose between them yet.
But for the first time, he was seriously considering that he might have to.
The return to Nal Air Force Station was quieter than their departure. The same unmarked Lockheed C-130 Hercules touched down on the runway under the harsh Rajasthan sun, its engines winding down as if nothing extraordinary had just happened beyond the horizon of ordinary duty. For everyone else on the base, it was just another arrival. For Hemant and Dan, it marked a subtle shift—something had changed, even if it wasn’t visible yet.
Near the hangars, Pranali 'Rani' Gupta was the first to greet them. She walked up with her usual ease, wiping her hands on a cloth, her tone light as ever.
"You two finally back" she said.
"Hangar’s been too peaceful. I almost missed having someone do the heavy lifting for me"
"You mean you missed free labor" Dan chuckled, adjusting his bag.
"Same thing" Rani smirked.
Hemant gave a brief nod, the kind that acknowledged the moment without stepping fully into it. The rhythm of the base resumed almost instantly. Orders were picked up, routines fell back into place, and within hours, the Garud squad was once again part of the system—guarding, maintaining, observing.
On the surface, nothing had changed.
Inside the hangar, Hemant returned to work with a focus that felt sharper than before. Tools in hand, systems laid out in front of him, he moved with quiet efficiency. The environment was familiar—the hum of machinery, the smell of fuel, the distant sound of aircraft engines—but his attention stayed locked on the task in front of him.
Kirti Raghuvanshi was there too. And for the first time since they had met, Hemant didn’t acknowledge her presence. Not even in passing. No glance, no pause, no moment of hesitation. He worked as if she wasn’t there. At first, it went unnoticed. Then it didn’t. Kirti picked up on it gradually—the absence of something that had once been constant. Those brief exchanges of eye contact, the quiet awareness they had of each other, even the awkwardness—it had all disappeared. In its place was something colder. Not hostility, not anger—just distance.
And it unsettled her more than she expected. Hemant’s detachment wasn’t only about her. Part of it came from her words that day—clear, firm, leaving no room for misunderstanding. He had respected that boundary. But beyond that, something else had taken over his thoughts.
SENTINEL.
The conversation with William J Irons hadn’t faded. If anything, it had settled deeper. The idea of stepping beyond structured duty, of operating without limits, of confronting something like AZRAEL at its root—it aligned too closely with the life he had always imagined for himself.
The edge. The unknown. The purpose beyond routine. In his spare time, that restlessness began to take form. At one corner of Rani’s hangar, away from the usual workflow, Hemant started working on something of his own. It began with a simple concept—a tool he had used before, something instinctive to him. A hatchet. But this time, he modified it. Reinforced the head, balanced the weight, and attached it to a chain instead of rope, welding the links himself to ensure durability.
The result wasn’t just a weapon—it was something more personal. A memory translated into steel.
He remembered being fifteen, back in Panthalam , Kerala. Despite moving to Mumbai , the summers still spent in his native lands. Where rice fields and nature dominated the aroma and ambience , Hemant trained in Kalari at his uncle's training grounds, when his uncle had first handed him the Kalaripayattu weapon known as the urumi—a flexible, whip-like blade that required precision, control, and complete awareness of movement. It wasn’t just about striking; it was about flow.
This new weapon—hatchet and chain—felt like a modern echo of that.
A blade that could control and unleash chaos.
When Rani noticed him working on it one evening, she paused, watching him test the balance.
"That doesn’t look standard issue" she said.
"It isn’t" Hemant replied.
"You made this?" She stepped closer, studying it.
"Weapon smithing is something of an expertise for me. I've grown attached to hatchets since my first deployment. This is me honoring my legacy and my roots"
He nodded. Rani raised an eyebrow.
"Didn’t know you were into this"
"Even though I was raised in a small village in Kerala. It had significance and divinity. I grew up learning about the legendary young warrior Manikanda who is worshipped as Lord Ayyappa to the world . From a young age I loved martial arts , and my families connection to Kalari through my uncle made me an easy influence. Even after moving to Mumbai for higher studies didn't stop my training in the summers at Kerala. Though my mother claims my liking towards it helped her in me never becoming a naughty and spoilt child!!"
He said. There was no showmanship in how he said it—just quiet confidence. Rani nodded slowly, taking it in.
"You are full of surprises Hemant Kumar!"
Meanwhile, the distance between him and Kirti continued to widen. At first, she tried to ignore it. Then she tried to counter it. She spent more time around Vishal, leaning into conversations, laughing a bit louder, staying back a bit longer. It wasn’t entirely forced—but there was an intent behind it now. She expected a reaction. There wasn’t one. Hemant didn’t look. Didn’t pause. Didn’t acknowledge. And that… began to bother her. More than his earlier attention ever had. Over time, that unease started to affect her focus.
It showed in small ways first—slight delays in response, minor miscalculations during simulation drills. Then it became more visible. During sorties, her precision slipped just enough to be noticeable. Not enough to fail—but enough to raise questions. One afternoon, after a less-than-clean run, a senior officer pulled her aside.
"Everything alright Kira?" he asked.
"Yes, sir" Kirti nodded instinctively.
"Doesn't seem to me judging from your performance lately" he replied calmly.
She acknowledged it, but the conversation lingered. Because she knew. Something was off. Back in the hangar, Hemant remained unchanged. Focused. Detached. Moving from one task to another with the same steady discipline. If he noticed her struggle, he didn’t show it. His attention had shifted entirely toward what lay ahead.
The upcoming deployment under a United Nations charter in Democratic Republic of the Congo was approaching fast. Briefings had started, logistics were being finalized, and the Garud unit was preparing for another transition—from base duty to active field operations. For Hemant, it was more than just another mission. It was movement.
Forward.
And somewhere beneath all of that—quiet, unresolved, but present—Was the question he hadn’t answered yet. Whether he belonged here… or somewhere far beyond it.
The days leading up to deployment grew heavier at Nal Air Force Station. What had started as a standard international assignment was quickly evolving into something far more serious. Briefings became longer, more frequent, and far more detailed. Hemant and Dan found themselves spending less time in routine duties and more time studying maps, intelligence summaries, and contingency plans.
The update came during one of those briefings. Their stay in Kinshasa had been reduced—from one month to just one week. No one needed to ask why. The intelligence reports made it clear. The situation in the Democratic Republic of the Congo was deteriorating rapidly. Illegal extraction and smuggling of gold and coltan had surged, fueling the rise of armed militias that appeared and disappeared just as quickly. Loyalties shifted overnight, alliances broke without warning, and entire regions were slipping into chaos. What was once a volatile environment had now become a pressure cooker.
The United Nations wasn’t just observing anymore—they were reacting. The decision to deploy a relatively new unit like the Garud Commando Force into such a situation reflected both urgency and calculated risk. There was no room for prolonged engagement. The mission would be short, precise, and highly controlled.
Hemant and Dan adjusted accordingly.
Their discussions shifted from broad strategy to tight execution. Entry protocols, extraction timing, communication discipline—everything was refined. There was an understanding between them that this wasn’t a place where mistakes could be corrected easily. The margin for error was thin.
"Seven days" Dan said one evening, reviewing their notes.
"Things might be quiet intense for them to reduce the timeline that small"
"I've been reading the news. Things are pretty tense there , that country is still recovering from a bloody civil war few years back , even their government is in shambles...the humanitarian crisis is out of control which is why UN stepped in with assistance to the poor"
Hemant replied. Dan nodded.
The day of departure arrived with a different kind of atmosphere.
Unlike their previous missions, this one wasn’t hidden. The involvement of Garuda had been announced, at least within military circles. People knew they were going. That alone changed how the base felt. There was more attention, more quiet observation, and a sense that this mission carried expectations beyond just execution.
Transport aircraft lined the runway, ready.
The squad assembled near the boarding area, gear checked and rechecked. New members who had recently been integrated into the Garuda unit stood alongside Hemant and Dan, some focused, some quietly processing the weight of what lay ahead.
Goodbyes were brief but meaningful.
Rani approached first, arms folded as usual, but her tone softer than usual.
"Try not to come back with more work for me" she said.
"No promises" Dan smiled.
"Take care of them" She looked at Hemant.
"Always" He nodded.
Vishal Agnihotri stepped in next, offering a firm handshake.
"Heard it’s rough out there...Just… stay sharp" he said.
"We will" Hemant replied.
There was mutual respect in the exchange—no competition, no tension. Just acknowledgment. Kirti stood a little apart. Kirti Raghuvanshi didn’t approach immediately. She watched as the others finished their exchanges, her expression composed but quieter than usual. When Hemant finally walked toward the aircraft, their paths crossed naturally.
She spoke first.
"Take care"
Simple. Direct. Hemant nodded slightly.
"You too"
There was a brief pause before he added, almost matter-of-factly,
"Focus on your sorties...this base and this country need its best pilots...and you are one of them!"
Kirti didn’t react immediately, but she understood what he meant. There was no judgment in his tone—just observation.
"I will" she said.
That was it.
No extended conversation. No unresolved tension surfacing. Just two people acknowledging each other before going their separate ways. Boarding was quick. Inside the aircraft, the atmosphere shifted from personal to professional. Seats were taken, gear secured, final checks completed. The engines roared to life, and within minutes, the plane began its ascent. As the base shrank below them, Hemant leaned back slightly, his focus already moving ahead.
"Back to work" Dan glanced over.
"Yeah" Hemant said.
Outside, the landscape changed gradually as they gained altitude, the familiar terrain of Rajasthan giving way to open sky. Inside, conversations quieted.
Each man and woman onboard understood what this mission represented—not just for themselves, but for the Garuda unit as a whole. This was their first major international deployment under global scrutiny. Expectations were high. And the environment they were heading into would test more than just their training.
Hemant closed his eyes briefly—not to rest, but to center himself. The distractions, the uncertainties, the unresolved thoughts—they all took a step back. Because what lay ahead demanded clarity. And in that moment, as the aircraft carried them toward a continent defined by conflict and complexity, there was only one thing that mattered.
Execution.
(TO BE CONTD)
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