The siren blared through the quiet Delhi night as the fire truck sped down the narrow streets of Karol Bagh. It was past midnight, and the call had come in anonymously—a report of smoke pouring from an apartment on the third floor of a rundown building. Captain Rajesh gripped the wheel, his crew of four burly firefighters—Vikram, Arjun, Manoj, and young rookie Sunny—sitting tense in the back. They'd seen their share of false alarms, but in a city like this, you never knew when a spark could turn into an inferno.

"Yaar, yeh call fake lag raha hai," (Dude, this call seems fake,) Vikram muttered, adjusting his helmet. "Itni raat ko kaun cigarette jala ke alarm bajaata hai?" (Who lights a cigarette at this hour and triggers an alarm?)