Cherreads

Chapter 1 - The Man in Uniform

Scene 1: Morning Duty Call

The first light of dawn brushed the streets of Lahore with a golden hue as the city stirred awake. Dust rose gently with the sweep of the early morning breeze, and the call of the azaan echoed from the distant mosque minarets.

Sub-Inspector Haroon Ahmed adjusted his cap, the brass emblem of justice gleaming against his crisp khaki uniform. His eyes scanned the streets from the entrance of the police station. A man in his late 40s, Haroon carried himself with the calm dignity of experience and the unshakable resolve of a man who had seen the worst the city had to offer—and still believed in good.

"Sir, chai?" Constable Tariq offered a steel mug.

Haroon took the mug with a nod. "Keep the squad ready. Something feels off today."

"Yes, sir."

Even before the radio crackled, Haroon's instincts—honed by decades in the force—had sensed trouble brewing. A robbery was underway at Allied Bank on Jail Road. Three armed men had entered the building at opening time, taken the staff hostage, and demanded cash.

Haroon set his tea aside, slipped on his gloves, and turned to Tariq. "Gear up. We roll out now."

Scene 2: Allied Bank, Jail Road - The Standoff

The streets buzzed with tension. Police sirens blared through traffic as Haroon's squad arrived and cordoned off the area. Civilians were pushed behind the yellow tape, and a hush settled over the gathering crowd.

Inside the bank, chaos.

Three robbers, masked and jittery, waved AK-47s at the terrified employees. An elderly guard bled from a gunshot to the leg. The bank manager tried to stay calm but was clearly in shock.

Outside, Haroon surveyed the situation through binoculars.

"We have two hostages in the main hall and one injured guard," he said into his radio. "I want eyes at the back door. Snipers on rooftop. No shooting unless I say so. We end this clean."

Tariq, panting, approached. "Sir, one of them's using a phone. They're threatening to kill a hostage every fifteen minutes."

Haroon nodded. "Time to negotiate."

He walked up to the bullhorn.

"This is Sub-Inspector Haroon Ahmed of Lahore Police. You're surrounded. Nobody needs to get hurt. Let's talk."

A window cracked open. One of the robbers leaned out, pointing a gun. "Back off, or we shoot!"

Haroon didn't flinch. "You won't get far. You're scared. You didn't plan this well. But I'm giving you a chance. Drop your weapons, release the hostages, and I'll make sure you live to see court."

"We want a van, now!"

Haroon radioed his team. "Buy time. Get me blueprints of the bank."

Minutes later, the plan was in motion. Two officers crawled through a storm drain, reaching the rear of the bank. Snipers positioned. Haroon studied the robbers' movement from reflected shadows on the glass.

Then—the shot rang out. One of the hostages screamed.

"They've shot the manager in the leg!" someone cried.

Haroon cursed under his breath. No more time.

Scene 3: Tactical Entry

"Go," Haroon whispered into his mic.

The back team breached the rear exit. Tear gas rolled into the building.

"Move! Move!"

Haroon, pistol drawn, led the charge. The gas choked the robbers, who fired blindly. Screams rang through the bank.

Haroon tackled one gunman, wrestled his weapon away, and cuffed him in seconds. Tariq disarmed the second.

The third robber grabbed a young woman, put a pistol to her temple. "Back off! I'll kill her!"

Haroon didn't blink. "You're not a killer. Your hands are shaking. Let her go, and I'll speak for you."

"Don't lie to me!"

"I'm not. Look at me! I'm Haroon Ahmed. I've brought down criminals worse than you, but I've also given boys like you a chance. Don't throw away your life."

The robber's resolve broke. The gun clattered to the floor. Haroon moved fast, securing him.

Scene 4: Applause and Reflection

Outside, the hostages emerged safely. Applause erupted. The media swarmed Haroon, cameras flashing.

"Sir! How did you manage this rescue without any loss of life?"

Haroon wiped his brow. "Training, teamwork, and Allah's will."

Later, in the locker room, Haroon sat alone. He looked at his blood-stained gloves, then at a photo tucked inside his wallet—Maryam, smiling gently, holding baby Ubaid and Irfan.

Tariq entered. "Sir, the DPO called. Said today's operation will go on record. Might even earn you a medal."

Haroon smiled faintly. "I don't do this for medals, Tariq. I do it so my sons grow up in a city where good men still matter."

The sun dipped behind the horizon. As Lahore resumed its rhythm, Sub-Inspector Haroon Ahmed stood quietly at the station's steps, a silent guardian beneath the fading light.

More Chapters