In the mean time,Mashrafi was walking around in the street. His eyes scanned the street like a hawk hunting prey. He was looking for Rakib, but all he saw was filth — rotting faces, broken souls, and a kind of darkness no war could cleanse.
He never imagined he'd be walking through a street like this. Not even in his nightmares.A street soaked in misery — crawling with girls trying to sell their flesh for a few coins.
It didn't feel sexy. It felt rotten.They were starving, lifeless.One look, and you'd want to look away — but some men looked longer.It disgusted him.
A few girls tried to lure him in — lifeless eyes, forced smiles, failed attempt to seduceHe just tossed them some coins. No words. Just pity.They bowed like beggars — not with gratitude, but shame.
Girls in Bengal didn't sell their bodies for fun.They were dragged here — step by step — by hunger, by betrayal, by the world crushing their dreams.This wasn't like those 21st-century OnlyFans girls flashing skin for fast cash.This was different. This was hell.
A group of local thugs stepped out of the shadows and blocked his path.
"Even kids show up to have fun these days, huh? Hand over your money and get lost."
Mashrafi didn't say a word.Sure, he wanted to get the hell out of here —but getting robbed by street trash?He'd rather die.
He glanced around. The road was packed. Soldiers, civilians, and worse.If a fight broke out, it'd be chaos. A gunshot would trigger a flood — and too many high-ranking officers were here, unarmed, drunk, and exposed.
"The kid's backing off. Let's follow him."
They started tailing him — with"mischievous grin"
"He won't get far. We know these streets like the back of our hand."
Mashrafi ducked into a narrow alley. The stink hit him first — piss, garbage, blood.
He crouched behind a stack of crates.From above, a moan was heard — a woman. Second floor.Down the alley, a dead baby lay face-down in a pile of trash.Next to it — a woman's corpse. Her body twisted like a broken doll, face eaten by rats.
He didn't flinch.
He drew his pistol. Then the SMG. Then the knife.His breathing slowed.
Should I kill them?
He closed his eyes. The doubt melted away.
I'm not some civvie. I'm a soldier.If they surrender, they walk. If they fight — they die.
In this time,even light wounds didn't heal. You got cut bad enough, you didn't live — you rotted.
A Painful and slow death was all you get, if you're wounded.
The voices were close now.
"Come out, kid. Game's over. Just hand over the money."
Mashrafi stepped into the alley's opening. Calm.
He tossed a few coins onto the ground.
"Here. scrape together like scrape change like street rats you are."
The coins clinked on the stone.
"You little bastard!"
Two of them lunged.
Mashrafi moved fast but steady.
One hand grabbed the first guy's neck with firm control, while the other seized his right wrist, twisting and forcing him down to the ground.
A sharp cry of agony cut through the air. But no one cared—just another street quarrel to the crowd.
"So, you're a well-trained soldier. Makes things more fun," a voice sneered.
A large, burly man who looked like a butcher lunged at Mashrafi, brandishing a heavy knife.
Things just got serious. Mashrafi couldn't fight unarmed again. He checked his small knife for the second time.
When the butcher struck, Mashrafi blocked with his left arm, then in a blur, plunged the blade into the man's chest.
The butcher didn't even scream before his body collapsed lifeless onto the garbage heap.
"You two—still time to run. Don't waste this golden chance."
The boss, though nervous, spoke with a mocking edge.
"Looks like you're a young soldier. Too bad you're unarmed."
He pulled out a pistol and aimed it straight at Mashrafi.
Shit. Time to pull my gun too. Let's get this over with and get out.
Without hesitation, Mashrafi drew his SMG and opened fire.
Within three seconds, both men lay dead.
He grabbed the pistol and the boss's wallet, then slipped away quickly, knowing the gunshots would bring trouble.
He didn't run—just walked past like an ordinary man, but at a brisk pace.
No time to search for Rakib now. He headed straight for the truck.
'This place was truly a hellhole.'