Chapter 3: A Sip Of Trust

2 months ago

aakanksha4

@aakanksha4

At present, Arjun stood here, waiting at the rendezvous point, the rain began to soak through his clothes, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was waiting anxiously to see his partner tonight.

Tonight’s mission was supposed to be straight forward: infiltrate a compound rumoured to house a notorious crime syndicate, gather intelligence, and get out.

He arrived at the meet-up point—an abandoned warehouse near the edge of the city. A few minutes early, he observed the area, his instincts kicking in. His gear was precise, his movements smooth, a man in control of everything around him.

Arjun took a deep breath, walking over to the shadow.

“ACP” he called out with a grin.

“You a fan of the rain, or just hoping it’ll wash the city’s filth away?”

Arjun didn't smile, just a fist bump.Their formal handshakes were now replaced by these childish fist-bumps. He just nodded and gave a sharp look in return.

"You’re late," he said flatly.

The captain chuckled. "May be you just arrived too early."

"Let’s get this done," Arjun muttered, already scanning the surroundings for danger.

The tension was palpable, but they had no choice.

Inside the compound, the mission went from simple to complicated in an instant. What they thought was a low-tier operation turned out to be a trap—explosives rigged all over the building, and the sound of footsteps closing in from all directions.

Arjun was quick, always calculating his next move, while the Captain moved with his usual energy, charging into action without hesitation. Arjun was the type to think through every angle, while he was instinctive, always in motion, always ready to lead.

As the two worked together, they learned more than they cared to admit about each other. Arjun had never been a fan of teamwork. He trusted only himself. He had learned early on that people weren’t reliable—no one was ever there when you needed them.

On the other hand, his partner thrived in chaos. He believed in the strength of bonds, of teamwork. He had seen men fight side by side and die side by side, but that never stopped him from reaching out, from connecting.

But as they worked together, missions after missions, they both realized something unexpected: they worked. They didn’t always agree on tactics, but each learned to respect the other’s approach. Arjun’s sharp, tactical mind complemented his instinctive, fearless charge forward. They covered each other’s blind spots, became a real team.

The final confrontation came in a cramped, underground bunker. A fire fight broke out, and the two men were pinned down. Bullets zipped by as Arjun checked his ammo and adjusted his position, his mind already working through escape plans. Captain, ever the optimist, was shouting over the noise.

“Drinks after this?” he asked, his grin barely visible through the smoke and dust.

Arjun glanced at him, his face a mask of calm.

“We’ll make it out,” he said. “Just follow my lead.”, Captain shouted.

But then, things went wrong. A grenade rolled towards them. Captain reacted instantly, grabbing it, his hand locking onto the pin as he threw it back toward the enemy. The explosion sent a shockwave through the air, but the danger wasn’t over. More gunfire rang out, and the two were nearly surrounded.

Captain moved without hesitation.

"Cover me!" he shouted.

Arjun didn’t question it. They had come too far for second guesses. As he rushed forward, taking out the last of the enemy, Arjun’s gunfire cut through the remaining threats. The final shot echoed through the walls, and silence fell. They’d done it.

---

In the aftermath, as they sat against the wall, catching their breath, the tension between them had dissolved. They had survived the night—not just because of their skills, but because by now, they had found a way to work together.

He looked over at Arjun, a genuine smile tugging at his lips.

“You know we’re not so bad. We have started making a decent team after all.”

Arjun, looking up at the ceiling, said nothing for a moment. Then, with a slight nod, he replied, “Yeah. Maybe.”

It was an odd feeling for him, this unspoken bond. He had never relied on anyone before, but these days, he had. And in some strange, twisted way, that felt like a victory in itself.

Captain slapped his knee and stood up.

“Let’s get the hell out of here. We’ve earned a drink, don’t you think?”

Arjun didn’t answer at first. He just stood there, looking out at the darkened city.

Then he muttered, “Yeah. Maybe.”

They walked side by side, the rain still falling, but neither of them felt entirely alone.

---

The night sky stretched wide above them, a soft, cool breeze teasing the battered streets of Mumbai.

The mission was over. The weapons had been seized. The threat eliminated.

Both of them walked in silence down the cracked pavement, the adrenaline of battle slowly draining out of theirsystems.

The captain, of course, broke the silence first.

"ACP!" He nudged Arjun playfully with his elbow.

"Tum kuch zada hi serious nahin ho? Poori duniya ka bojh akele hi uthaa loge?"

Arjun cast him a side long look, a wry smile almost tugging at his lips despite himself.

He laughed easily, that reckless, carefree laughter that Arjun was beginning to associate with him.

“Toh, Drinks?”

“Nahin!” Arjun suddenly said, a spark of mischief flashing in his usually stern eyes.

“Kya? Mission ke baad ab romantic dinner ka plan hai kya?" he joked, mock batting his eyelashes.

Arjun smirked and jerked his head toward the other side of the street where a battered tea stall stood under a single flickering bulb.

“Cutting chai. Mumbai-Pune Highway ki best.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused but curious.

"Cutting chai? Roadside? Yahan pe?"

Arjun said nothing, he was already striding towards the stall.

With a dramatic sigh, he followed.

--

The stall owner — an old man with a wrinkled smile and ancient glasses — greeted Arjun like an old friend.

"ACP saab! Itne dino baad! Ye kise le aaye saath?” the man joked, eying the man with him in his military fatigues.

Arjun spared a look at his partner who was busy scanning the place.

They leaned against the shaky metal counter, accepting the tiny glass tumblers brimming with steaming hot tea.

The captain eyed his glass suspiciously, holding it between two fingers as if it might explode.

"Yeh pee sakte hain naa?" he asked skeptically, sniffing the glass.

Arjun shook his head in disbelief at his antics, and then sipped without hesitation.

He watched him for a beat, then, muttering "Jo hoga dekha jayega," took a tentative sip.

He paused.
Blink.
Another sip.

"Damn. Yeh toh actual mein achi hai." He admitted, surprised.

“Bhaiya! Maze aa gye!”, he threw a kiss towards the old man earning a chuckle from everyone present at the road-side stall.

Arjun allowed himself a controlled smile.

“Waise main bhi road side se khareed kr cheezein khaa kr hi bada hua hoon, pr jab se ye mohabbat hui h naa, hygiene ke baare mein sochta hoon. Meri bandi yahan hoti, toh panic attack aa jaata use. Roadside stall, mitti, unhygienic glass, Eee...Cheee...Yuck! — full meltdown. Aurat ka chakkar ACP bhaiya, aurat ka chakkar!", he sighed.

Arjun arched an eyebrow. The man infront of him was unbelievable. In the world of covert operations — especially unofficial missions — anonymity is not just about protecting the mission; it is about protecting each other. If one operative is caught or compromised, he cannot betray his partner’s true identity — even under torture. Official records stay clean: no written proof of connections between police forces and military covert units. It psychologically builds a mindset that you are soldiers for the mission, not individuals seeking personal glory. Everything is to ensure maximum operational security and minimum personal vulnerability. And here he was, narrating his love story to him.

They stood there for a few minutes, sipping quietly, blending into the rough pulse of the busy highway.

As they walked back from the tea stall, hands jammed into their jackets against the cold night air, he suddenly slowed his steps, glancing sideways at Arjun.

"ACP," he said mock-formally, mock-serious, "You know the protocol, right? No personal names. No personal details."

Arjun grunted in agreement, not looking at him. "Rules are rules."

He snorted, kicking a pebble down the road. "Rules. Tch. Tumko seriously lagta hai naam chhupane se log apni kahaniyaan chhupa sakte hain?"

“Nahin, tum to bilkul bhi nahi! Tum toh abhi mujhe apni girlfriend…”

Arjun didn’t spoke any further, but something in him stirred. A flicker of curiosity. Or maybe longing.

They stopped walking altogether and turned to face each other.

Without warning, he thrust out his hand.

"Kabir."
"Captain Kabir."

Arjun stared at the hand for a second too long. His instincts screamed caution.
But something in Kabir’s easy smile, something in the raw honesty of that small gesture, reached him in ways he wasn’t prepared for.

Slowly, Arjun grasped the hand and shook it firmly.

"Arjun."
"ACP Arjun."

For a moment, there was no tension. No haunted pasts. No missions. Just two soldiers choosing to trust each other — in a world where trust was rarer than mercy.

Kabir smirked, releasing his hand.

"Ab hum officially dost nahi bane kya? Or do we need Commissioner Coelho ka permission too?"

Arjun allowed himself a small, reluctant smile.

"Don’t push your luck, Captain, uhm Kabir!"

Kabir laughed, throwing an arm loosely around Arjun’s shoulders for a second before letting go — an impulsive gesture, a reckless one. The kind only Kabir could pull off without it feeling heavy.

They kept walking, their steps easier, lighter.

For the first time in a very longtime, Arjun felt something other than rage and regret stirring inside him.

Something dangerously close to hope.

Two men who didn’t yet realize how intertwined their destinies had already become.