THE DREAM

Chapter 1: The Perfect Evening

written by Kingson Das

It was around 7:30 in the evening, and KK Mall stood glowing under a canopy of warm golden lights.

The massive building pulsed with life. People moved through its wide corridors in a steady rhythm—families shopping, teenagers laughing in groups, and couples walking slowly, lost in their own quiet worlds. The air carried a mix of sounds: distant music from stores, the chatter of conversations, and the cheerful noise of children running toward the gaming zone.

Near the center of the mall, a large crowd had gathered around a glass showroom. Inside, rare vintage cars and bikes were displayed like priceless artifacts. Their polished surfaces reflected the lights above, shining like pieces of history frozen in time. People admired them, clicking photos, pointing out details, and sharing excitement with one another.

For everyone inside, it was just another perfect evening.

Safe. Normal. Unforgettable in the simplest way.

Outside, however, something far from normal was unfolding.

A white van rolled to a slow stop near the entrance of the mall.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then the side door slid open.

One by one, ten individuals stepped out. Their faces were calm, almost emotionless, and their movements were precise, as if everything had been planned down to the smallest detail. At the front stood Huzaifa, the leader. His eyes scanned the surroundings with cold focus. Behind him followed Abdullah, Hasan, Adnan, Kareem, Khalil, Saleem, Armaan, Rahim, and Fatima.

Without exchanging a single word, they moved toward the entrance.

The guards standing outside barely had time to react.

Gunshots rang out.

The sound was sharp, sudden, and violent—cutting through the calm evening like a blade. The guards collapsed instantly, their bodies hitting the ground before anyone could even process what had happened.

For a brief second, silence followed.

Then chaos erupted.

Inside the mall, the first gunshot echoed faintly, confusing people more than alarming them. Some turned their heads, trying to understand the source of the noise. A few even laughed it off, thinking it was some kind of sound effect or disturbance.

Then came the second shot.

And the third.

The illusion of safety shattered.

Screams filled the air.

Panic spread rapidly as people began running in every direction. Bags were dropped, children cried out for their parents, and footsteps echoed wildly against the marble floors. The calm, organized space turned into a storm of fear and confusion.

But escape was not easy.

The armed group had already entered.

They moved with terrifying efficiency, controlling every entrance, every corridor, every possible exit. Within minutes, the chaos was forced into order—an order built on fear.

One by one, people were pushed, threatened, and forced toward the main hall.

Some resisted, only to be silenced instantly.

Others obeyed, too terrified to even speak.

Soon, the entire crowd was gathered in one place.

Hundreds of people stood together, trembling, whispering prayers, holding onto each other as if that alone could protect them.

Huzaifa walked slowly among them.

His footsteps were calm, deliberate, almost relaxed—completely opposite to the fear surrounding him. His eyes moved across the crowd, observing, judging, searching.

And then—

They stopped.

On a young woman.

Zara.

She stood close to her grandmother, gripping her hand tightly. Her face was pale, her eyes wide with fear, but she tried to stay strong.

Her grandmother, however, couldn’t hold back.

The old woman stepped forward, her hands trembling as she folded them in desperation.

“Please…” she said, her voice shaking. “Let her go. She’s just a child. Please, take anything else… just leave her.”

Her words hung in the air.

For a moment, it felt like time had slowed.

Huzaifa looked at her.

There was no anger in his expression.

No sympathy either.

Just emptiness.

Without saying a word, he stepped forward and grabbed Zara by the arm.

She gasped in shock.

“Grandma—!”

The old woman tried to hold onto her, but one of the armed men pushed her back roughly. She stumbled, nearly falling, her cries growing louder, more desperate.

“Please! Someone help her! Please!”

But no one moved.

No one dared.

Zara struggled, her fear turning into panic as she was dragged away. Her eyes searched the crowd, hoping someone—anyone—would step forward.

But all she saw were frightened faces.

People who wanted to help…

But were too afraid to try.

Huzaifa pulled her toward a corridor leading to the back rooms.

Her voice echoed through the hall.

“Grandma!”

The old woman collapsed to her knees, her cries breaking into helpless sobs.

The door to the back room opened.

Zara was pushed inside.

And then—

It shut.

The sound of that closing door echoed louder than the gunshots.

Because for everyone in that hall…

It felt like something far worse had just begun.

📖 THE DREAM

Chapter 2: The Arrival

written by Kingson Das

The night outside KK Mall felt strangely quiet.

A few streetlights flickered, casting long shadows across the empty road. The city was still alive, but here—right outside the mall—something felt… off. The usual movement, the security presence, the noise—it was all missing.

A black car approached slowly.

Inside, three young men sat, unaware that their lives were about to collide with something far bigger than they expected.

Rohit leaned back in his seat, relaxed, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

Farhan sat beside him, scrolling through his phone, occasionally laughing at something only he found amusing.

Aniket, behind the wheel, remained focused, his eyes steady on the road.

“Bro,” Farhan said, glancing up, “today we’re not leaving empty-handed. I didn’t come all this way for nothing.”

Rohit chuckled. “Relax. Everything’s under control.”

Aniket said nothing.

He rarely did.

His silence wasn’t awkward—it was natural. He was the kind of person who observed more than he spoke, who thought before acting. And right now, something didn’t feel right.

As the car neared the entrance of KK Mall, his grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly.

“Something’s wrong,” he said quietly.

Farhan looked up. “What?”

The car slowed.

Rohit leaned forward, his expression shifting from casual to alert.

There were no guards at the entrance.

That alone was enough to raise suspicion.

But then they saw it.

Blood.

Dark stains spread across the ground near the entrance, barely visible under the dim lighting—but unmistakable.

The car came to a complete stop.

For a moment, none of them spoke.

The air inside the car felt heavier.

Rohit broke the silence first. “This doesn’t look good.”

Aniket opened the door.

“Stay sharp,” he said.

The three stepped out, their movements cautious now. The joking, the laughter—it was all gone. Every step they took toward the entrance felt deliberate, controlled.

The main doors stood slightly open.

Inside, the lights were still on.

But something was wrong.

Too quiet.

As they approached, a figure appeared at the entrance.

Rahim.

He stood there, holding a rifle, his eyes cold and ready.

For a split second, everything froze.

Then—

Rahim raised his weapon.

But Aniket was faster.

He dropped low instantly, ducking the line of fire.

Rohit charged forward without hesitation, his fist crashing hard into Rahim’s face. The impact was strong enough to stagger him backward.

Before Rahim could recover, Farhan moved in from the side, delivering a sharp kick that knocked him off balance completely.

The rifle slipped from Rahim’s grip.

Aniket didn’t waste a second.

He grabbed the weapon, turned, and fired.

The shot echoed loudly in the empty entrance.

Rahim collapsed.

Silence followed—but only for a moment.

That single gunshot had changed everything.

Inside the mall, the sound spread like a warning.

The remaining attackers were alerted.

Aniket looked toward the interior of the mall, his expression dark.

“They know we’re here,” Farhan said.

Rohit cracked his knuckles. “Good.”

Without another word, they moved inside.

The moment they stepped in, the situation became clear.

People were gathered in the main hall—terrified, controlled, surrounded.

Armed men stood watch, their attention now shifting toward the entrance.

“Too many,” Farhan muttered.

Aniket’s eyes scanned the area quickly, calculating, planning.

“We don’t have a choice,” he said.

Before anyone could respond—

Gunfire erupted again.

The attackers moved first, firing toward them.

The three reacted instantly.

Rohit took cover behind a pillar, returning fire with precision. Farhan moved quickly, using the environment to his advantage, staying unpredictable. Aniket remained composed, his movements controlled, every shot calculated.

The fight had begun.

And it was far from over.

THE DREAM

Chapter 3: Chaos Unleashed

written by Kingson Das

The first shots inside the mall echoed like thunder.

Glass shattered.

People screamed.

And within seconds, the fragile line between fear and survival broke completely.

Aniket, Rohit, and Farhan were no longer just witnesses.

They were in the middle of a war.

Gunfire rang from both sides, loud and relentless. The attackers moved with discipline, spreading out to surround the entrance. But the three friends were faster than they looked—each of them reacting with instinct, precision, and something deeper… something practiced.

Rohit crouched behind a pillar, breathing steadily as bullets struck the marble surface near him. Dust and fragments scattered across his face, but he didn’t flinch. He leaned out just enough to fire back—controlled, powerful shots.

One attacker dropped.

Then another.

Farhan moved differently.

He didn’t stay in one place. He kept shifting, using counters, benches, and display stands as cover. His movements were quick, almost unpredictable. He wasn’t just fighting—he was thinking three steps ahead.

“Left side!” he shouted.

Aniket didn’t respond—but he didn’t need to.

He had already seen it.

Two attackers were trying to flank them from the side corridor.

Aniket stepped forward calmly, his grip firm on the rifle. His eyes didn’t show panic, only focus. He fired twice—clean, precise shots.

Both men fell.

For a brief moment, the firing slowed.

The attackers hesitated.

They hadn’t expected resistance like this.

Not from three strangers.

Rohit smirked slightly. “That all you’ve got?”

But the fight wasn’t over yet.

From the far end of the hall, more gunfire erupted.

The remaining attackers regrouped, firing aggressively now, trying to overwhelm them with numbers.

Bullets tore through the air.

A glass display exploded into pieces, scattering shards across the floor. People cried out, covering their heads, pressing themselves against the ground, hoping to stay invisible in the chaos.

“Keep them away from the crowd!” Aniket said sharply.

Farhan nodded, shifting his position again.

Rohit stepped out from cover—bold, aggressive.

Too aggressive.

A shot rang out.

Rohit barely dodged it, the bullet grazing past his shoulder.

“Careful!” Farhan snapped.

Rohit grinned through the tension. “Relax. I’ve got this.”

But even he knew—this wasn’t going to be easy.

The fight dragged on, intense and unforgiving.

Seconds felt like minutes.

Minutes felt like hours.

And slowly… the numbers began to change.

One by one, the attackers fell.

Their coordination started breaking.

Their confidence started fading.

Until finally—

Silence.

The last gunshot echoed… and then faded away.

Smoke lingered in the air.

The floor was scattered with debris, broken glass, and still bodies.

Aniket lowered his weapon slightly, scanning the area.

Farhan exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair.

Rohit cracked his neck, looking around.

“It’s over,” he said.

But it wasn’t.

From the far end of the hall, two figures remained.

Huzaifa.

And Fatima.

Huzaifa stood still, watching them from a distance, his expression unreadable.

Fatima, however, had already been restrained. Her hands were tied, her posture calm—too calm.

Aniket stepped forward slowly.

For a moment, it felt like another fight was about to begin.

But Huzaifa turned and disappeared into the back corridor without a word.

Aniket’s eyes narrowed.

He knew exactly what that meant.

“He’s still inside,” he said.

Before anyone could respond, a voice broke through the silence.

Zara’s grandmother.

“My granddaughter!” she cried, her voice shaking. “They took her inside… please… please save her!”

The desperation in her voice cut through everything.

Aniket didn’t hesitate.

“I’ll go,” he said.

Farhan looked at him. “Be careful.”

Rohit nodded. “We’ve got things here.”

Aniket gave a slight nod and moved toward the back corridor, his steps steady, focused.

As he disappeared into the shadows, the tension shifted.

Now it was just Farhan, Rohit…

And Fatima.

The hall was quieter now, but the danger hadn’t disappeared.

Farhan kept watch, scanning every direction.

Rohit, however…

His attention drifted.

Toward Fatima.

Even tied, even surrounded by chaos—she didn’t look afraid.

She looked composed.

Confident.

Her eyes met Rohit’s.

And for a brief moment—

She smiled.

Rohit frowned slightly, stepping closer.

Something about her didn’t feel right.

“Don’t trust her,” Farhan warned quietly.

Rohit didn’t respond.

Fatima tilted her head slightly, her voice calm.

“Can I go to the washroom?”

The request felt strange.

Out of place.

But the situation… the silence after chaos… it made everything feel uncertain.

Rohit hesitated.

Just for a second.

Then nodded.

“Fine. I’ll take you.”

Farhan looked at him sharply. “Rohit—”

“I’ve got it,” Rohit said.

And that was the moment everything changed.