The room was dimly lit, the only sound was the low hum of the surveillance screens that bathed the sleek black floor in a ghostly glow. Rex stood near the glass wall of the high-rise Swindon office, a drink in hand, watching the city below as if it were his chessboard. His dark eyes didn't blink—calculating, waiting.
The door clicked open softly.
Aarav Mehra walked in, unbothered by Rex's silence. He wore a clean black coat over his casual formals, a man always too young to look this dangerous. In his hand—an iPad and a thin file.
"I brought it," Aarav said coolly, walking to the desk and placing both items down with a tap. "Everything. Medical history, condition triggers, psychological breakdown, response times, and suggested countermeasures. Took a little digging, but when someone gets hospitalised because of a spider—well, it's bound to leave traces in a few systems."
Rex turned slowly, eyes narrowing as he approached the desk. He didn't touch the file yet. He watched Aarav.
"You're telling me the lion of the team," he began, voice low and sharp, "the boy who sealed my Sunderland mall and cracked into our logistics... passes out at the sight of a spider?"
Aarav smirked. "Not just fear. Severe arachnophobia. His body treats spiders like bullets. Rapid heart rate, loss of breath, tunnel vision, full shutdown. According to this,"—he tapped the iPad—"his panic attacks can hit within seconds. And recovery takes hours. It's neurological, not emotional."
Rex picked up the file and flipped through it. His eyes scanned the printed pages with deadly interest:
> Name: Kiaan Varma
Phobia: Arachnophobia (Extreme)
Trigger threshold: Visual or close physical proximity
Previous incidents: Childhood trauma—fall from stairs at age 7 due to spider sighting. Recent blackout at Redfish Port, confirmed via hospital report.
Risk: Vulnerable to environmental manipulation
Psychological pattern: Hides weakness, overcompensates in leadership roles. Prone to shame spiral if weakness is exposed.
Rex smiled. Slowly. Coldly.
"Well," he whispered, tapping the page with his index finger. "Isn't that poetic? The fearless leader has a bug that brings him to his knees."
Aarav leaned forward, interest gleaming in his eyes. "If used smartly, it could be more than just a distraction. It could become a weapon."
Rex closed the file with a soft thud and turned to face the full wall monitor. He clicked a button, and the surveillance footage from the Redfish Port appeared—the moment Kiaan stumbled out of the container, chest heaving, face pale, hands trembling, and then finally, collapsed to the ground as his team ran toward him.
Rex watched it play again. Then again.
Then once more in slow motion.
"I want a plan," he said finally, voice like steel cutting through velvet. "We'll give the hero his war… but on my terms. Let's see how long he leads when the shadows themselves crawl."
Aarav nodded. "You want fake recon setups? Stage environments? Spider visuals? Or the real thing?"
Rex chuckled under his breath and said with a devilish grin, "Why fake when we can be poetic?"
He looked at the screen again—at Kiaan's collapsing body, sweat running down his temple.
"We'll turn his mind into a prison. One spider at a time."