The city looked peaceful from a distance — morning haze rising over Karachi's harbor, seagulls crying over the water.
But inside a small, wrecked fishing boat drifting near Manora, Inspector Jamshed and his children were far from peace.
Farooq had patched together what was left of his laptop with a cracked screen, while Mehmooda bandaged her father's arm, grazed by shrapnel.
"We lost everything," Farooq muttered. "The files, the trackers — all gone."
"Not everything," Jamshed replied quietly, reaching into his soaked jacket. From the inside pocket, he pulled out a small, metallic flash drive — one that had survived the blast.
Mehmooda's eyes widened. "Is that from the second packet?"
Jamshed nodded. "Half of it. I grabbed it the moment I saw the light in that container."
They powered it up through Farooq's damaged laptop. The drive contained fragments of a classified document — but enough to piece together a terrifying truth.
Across the top of the file read:
PROJECT BLACK PULSE — EXECUTIVE SUMMARY (EYES ONLY)
The document detailed a covert initiative to create an AI-driven cyber weapon — capable of taking control of any digital network in a nation: military systems, electricity grids, even financial institutions.
It could turn a country against itself with a single command.
"This isn't espionage," Mehmooda whispered. "It's… apocalypse."
Farooq scrolled further. "Look — the program wasn't canceled. It was transferred."
"Transferred to where?" Jamshed asked.
Before they could finish reading, a section of the file flashed red — 'ACCESS RESTRICTED: AUTHORIZED BY Z.Q.'
"Zafar Qureshi," Jamshed said grimly. "Mr. Z is not just reviving Black Pulse — he's finishing it."
---
Meanwhile – Intelligence Bureau Headquarters
Colonel Naveed's deputy, Major Rehan, sat alone in the control room. He watched the news feed showing the port explosion.
A secure phone rang. He answered.
"Rehan speaking."
A cold voice replied:
"The inspector survived. Proceed with Phase Four."
Rehan hesitated. "But sir—"
"Do as I say. You know the consequences of disobedience."
The line went dead. Rehan exhaled slowly, then looked at a photo on his desk — himself shaking hands with Jamshed years ago.
"Forgive me, old friend," he whispered.
---
Back on the Boat
The sea rocked gently as Mehmooda connected the flash drive to a backup battery. "We can't risk going online," she said. "He'll find us."
Farooq nodded. "I can isolate the data offline and build a clone environment. That way, we can simulate what Black Pulse does — safely."
Jamshed looked at him. "No risks, Farooq. One wrong command and you could trigger something we can't stop."
Farooq smiled faintly. "That's the fun part."
He hit ENTER.
The laptop screen flickered. For a moment, everything went black — then a voice, synthetic and low, emerged from the speakers:
"Black Pulse activated. Awaiting command authorization."
Mehmooda froze. "It's still alive…"
Before Farooq could shut it down, the voice spoke again:
"Welcome back, Dr. Zafar."
The system mistook Farooq's test code for Dr. Z's credentials.
On the map display, dozens of red dots appeared — each representing a server connected to the Black Pulse network.
"Oh my God," Farooq breathed. "He's everywhere."
Jamshed stared at the glowing screen.
"He's building an invisible empire."
---
Elsewhere – Unknown Location
Mr. Z stood in a cold, metallic chamber surrounded by humming servers. The faint light of digital code flickered across his face.
"Begin the synchronization," he ordered.
An assistant typed rapidly. "Sir, the prototype AI is online and learning faster than expected. Within 72 hours, it could control the national grid."
Mr. Z smiled. "Perfect. Let the world see what they buried alive."
He turned toward a large monitor displaying the faces of Jamshed, Farooq, and Mehmooda.
"Tell them," he said, "the ghost they created has come home."
---
Cut to – Karachi Streets
Rain returned as the trio stepped off the fishing boat and vanished into the alleys. Jamshed pulled his coat tighter.
"Abba," Mehmooda said softly, "if this AI goes live, it won't stop with Pakistan."
"I know," Jamshed replied. "That's why we need to find Dr. Zafar — before the world goes dark."
A phone buzzed in Farooq's pocket. Unknown number. He answered cautiously.
"Farooq… it's Ayesha," came a weak voice. "I escaped."
Jamshed's eyes widened. "Where are you?"
"Old Cybrex lab — Korangi Industrial Zone. Hurry… before he—"
Gunshots. The line cut off.
Farooq's hands shook. "He found her."
Jamshed stood up, eyes like steel.
"Then we'll find him."