Alisha was buried in a flurry of tasks, juggling schedules and phone calls in Samrat Oberoi's sleek office. Her phone buzzed, shattering her focus. She glanced at the screen, sighed, and answered. "Hello?""Alisha, have you heard?" came the excited voice of her manager, Priya, on the other end. "That director—the one who snatched your role? He got into an accident!"Alisha froze, her heart skipping a beat. Shock gave way to a flicker of satisfaction. "Serves him right," she said, her voice sharp. "People who screw over good folks don't get to walk away unscathed. That idiot! I poured my soul into preparing for that role, and he just handed it to someone else. He deserves this. Honestly, I'm thrilled."Priya chuckled. "You're preaching to the choir. When I heard, I couldn't stop grinning. What a vile man. Anyway, how're you holding up? Sana told me everything about your run-in with that guy."Alisha smirked, leaning back in her chair. "I'm at his office, where else? Stuck playing assistant to the great Samrat Oberoi." Her tone dripped with sarcasm."Take care of yourself," Priya said, her voice softening. "And don't forget, your third movie's shooting starts in two weeks.""I've got it under control," Alisha replied, brushing off the reminder. "Don't stress. Alright, gotta go. Bye.""Bye," Priya echoed, and the call ended.Priya, Alisha's fiercely loyal manager, was navigating her own storm. Freshly married but already seeking a divorce, she was battered by her in-laws' relentless torment. Alisha, Sana, and Shivangi had rallied around her, offering unwavering support as she prepared to break free.Meanwhile, Alisha marched over to Samrat, who was engrossed in his work, his sharp features illuminated by the glow of his laptop. She thrust a neatly organized schedule in front of him. "You've got a meeting to attend today," she said, her tone clipped. "And just so you know, my next movie's shooting starts in two weeks."Samrat's piercing gaze flicked up to meet hers. "Oh?" he said, his voice calm but laced with curiosity."Don't even think about telling me to quit acting," Alisha snapped, her eyes blazing. "I'm not giving it up. Not for you, not for anyone."He raised an eyebrow. "How long's the shoot?""Six months, give or take," she replied, bracing herself for a fight."Fine," Samrat said, his tone deceptively mild. "You can go."Alisha blinked, caught off guard. "Thank you so much," she said, a triumphant grin spreading across her face. Six months on set would fly by, leaving just one more month tethered to this insufferable billionaire. Freedom was within reach.But Samrat wasn't done. His eyes narrowed, reading her like an open book. "Don't get too excited," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You're not skating through this. Every day you're off shooting, your contract extends. Got it?"Alisha's jaw dropped, her bubble of victory popping in an instant. "What? Are you even human?" she exploded, her temper flaring. She stormed out, her hands itching to slap that smug look off his face. One more second in his presence, and she might've done it. Alisha's fiery nature was her strength—and her curse. When rage took over, her fists spoke louder than her words, a habit that had landed her in trouble before… and occasionally saved her.
Seoul, South KoreaAcross the globe, a chilling shadow loomed over Seoul's neon-lit streets. Women dared not walk alone at night, haunted by a ruthless serial killer who struck with horrifying precision. His victims—beautiful young women returning home late—were left unrecognizable, their faces mutilated beyond identification. Fifteen cases had piled up, and despite exhaustive investigations, the local police and South Korea's detective agencies were grasping at straws. They knew the killer lived among them, blending seamlessly into society by day, but his identity remained a maddening enigma.Desperate, the head of Seoul's top detective agency appealed to the government for an unprecedented move: summon the Black Squad, an elite Indian covert unit renowned for cracking impossible cases. With the crisis spiraling out of control, the South Korean government agreed, reaching out to India with an urgent plea.At the Black Squad's base in India, a senior officer from the Indian Detective Agency met with Shadowfox, the squad's enigmatic leader. "A mission's come up," the officer said, his tone grave. He briefed Shadowfox on Seoul's dire situation and the Korean government's request. "The Indian government's approved. The Defense Minister wants your best agents to resolve this."Shadowfox's eyes gleamed with resolve. "Understood. We'll go. We'll do everything in our power to catch this monster."The officer smiled, relieved. "I'm counting on you, Shadowfox." He paused, then added, "You leave in two days."Shadowfox nodded, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. The hunt was on.
Three Days Later, SeoulUnder the cover of dusk, three figures stepped off a plane at Incheon Airport: two men and a woman, clad in sleek black attire, their faces partially concealed by masks. Their jackets bore a stylized "BS" logo, a symbol that struck fear into criminals and hope into allies—the mark of the Black Squad. They slid into a waiting car and were whisked to a discreet safehouse arranged for their mission.That evening, inside Seoul's detective agency headquarters, the trio sat across from a tense group of inspectors and detectives. Photos of crime scenes were spread across the table, each one more gruesome than the last. The lead inspector cleared his throat. "Last night, another incident occurred. A girl was attacked, beaten brutally. A passerby spotted the assailant and scared him off. The girl was unconscious but alive. We rushed her to the hospital, and she regained consciousness just hours ago."Shadowfox leaned forward, his voice steady. "We need to speak with her."The inspector nodded and led them to the hospital. In a dimly lit room, the victim lay on a bed, an IV drip tethered to her arm. Her face, once beautiful, was a map of bruises and cuts. Storm Queen, the female Black Squad member, studied a photo of the girl from before the attack, then looked at her now. A pang of sorrow hit her. "He targets beautiful women," she said softly. "Disfigures them deliberately."The inspector confirmed, "Every three days, like clockwork. Always late at night."Twilight, the third squad member, spoke up, his voice calm but firm. "Don't worry, sir. We'll help you catch him."The inspector's shoulders relaxed. "Thank you."As they left the hospital, the trio strategized. The killer's pattern meant they had two days before his next strike. They needed a plan—and fast.