My name appears on a screen I have never seen.
I don't know that yet.
I stand at the edge of Kalyanpur Transit Yard, watching freight drones descend in steady lines. The air smells like metal and old rain. People move fast here—no one stays long, no one asks questions.
That's why I like it.
I work on
inventory audits for a logistics firm. Boring. Clean. Predictable. The kind of job that doesn't ask who your grandfather was.
I finish the scan, upload the report, and shut the terminal. My shift ends without incident. Exactly how I want it.
I turn to leave.
A siren echoes—far away, not for me. Not today
Across the city, inside a sealed room beneath The Crown Circuit, a different terminal lights up.
Aegis Index // Legacy Audit CompleteFlag: RATHORE, AARAVRisk Classification: INHERENT
No one speaks for a moment.
Then a hand taps the table.
I reach my apartment before sunset. It's small, quiet, and deliberately unremarkable. I cook rice, eat without tasting it, and sit by the window. From here, I can see the city's upper lanes glowing—cleaner, richer, louder.
I don't belong up there.
I open a locked drawer and take out a thin metal card. No logo. No serial number. Just a name etched deep enough to last.
Vikram Rathore.
I don't remember him. I remember what came after.
The funerals.The whispers.The way my uncles stopped looking at us like family.
I put the card back and locked the drawer.
My phone vibrates once.
No number.No message.
Just a system ping.
I frown and open the diagnostics. The ping isn't public network traffic. It's routed through a private mesh—old, expensive, deliberate.
That shouldn't happen.
I trace it.
The signal originates from Aegis Index.
I don't know the name yet. I only know the signature. My father taught me how to recognise these things before he taught me how to fight.
I shut the phone off.
Elsewhere, a file opens.
Subject: Aarav RathoreBloodline: RathoreAncestral Record: Vikram Rathore — Former Underground LeaderStatus: UnaffiliatedBehavioral Pattern: AvoidanceCombat Record: MinimalAssessment: High-risk anomaly
A decision is made.
Not to recruit.Not to threaten.
To observe.
I wake before my alarm.
That happens sometimes when old habits surface.
I go for a run, keep my pace steady, my breathing controlled. No music. No distractions. I don't push. I never push unless I have to.
On my way back, I pass a shuttered warehouse with a fresh seal on the door. New encryption. Military-grade.
This area doesn't get upgrades.
I note it and move on.
By nightfall, the city feels the same.
That's the lie systems tell themselves before they move.
I sit on my bed and look at my hands. They're steady. They always are.
I don't want power.I don't want legacy.
But power wants bloodlines.
And legacy never stays buried.
Somewhere far above me, a system adjusts its focus.
And for the first time in years, my name matters to someone who can make it dangerous.