"if we will be working together, I'll need to see your face. I want to know the monsters I'm working with", said Inessa. She poured a glass of red and returned to her throne-like seat. Inessa Romanov, a Russian Mobster with a soft spot for anti-fascist groups. She took a sip, then continued her talk. Makela approached her slowing in a sinister manner, "Ivan!"; cried Inessa. A young Russian, probably in his early late 20s walked in. he had an athletic body, perhaps, a former martial artist. He was rather welcoming than hostile. Not vexed by our presence, he smiled at us as he took the seat opposite Inessa. "please sit", he gestured. Simultaneously, we performed an Adrenaline Manoeuvre to the seats. "how did you get from there to there", asked Inessa in Bewilderment.
Ivan was not amazed by this. He had either seen similar stuff or was just good at maintaining calm in life-threatening situations. I removed my cowl, revealing my face as I deactivated my mask. "Boginya-l'vitsa; the Lioness goddess has sent me enhanced humans, how thoughtful of her", she smiled. "Elizabeth Bathory, that's who we have come for. The Maditau said you know where to find her", said Makela as she too revealed her face. "wow, beautiful", said Ivan, "yes, isn't she?", agreed Inessa. "I was once as beautiful as you are, Apostle. You have reminded me, of me", she sounded lost in thought.
Either, she thought too highly of herself or she just aged badly. Inessa Romanov was a middle-aged woman, fair skin, well, no… now that I was sitting opposite to her, it was rather pale and cold. She looked like a live Sindy Doll gone wrong. Perhaps, she was beautiful but conditioned to plastic surgery for various reasons. "I was a model once. I had the face and body of envy…", she said to herself then took another sip. Inessa was a diva gangster godmother and a drama queen.
"Elizabeth Bathory", Makela said, this time, impatiently. "we owe Boginya-l'vitsa our lives", said Ivan, "yes we do", agreed Inessa. "Ivan took the liberty of collecting Elizabeth Bathory for you, as a token of our gratitude to Boginya-l'vitsa", said Inessa as she placed the goblet on the coffee table. "follow Ivan. He will take you to her cell", she said, giving Ivan a nod. This was just too easy, I tried to read their minds but as much as I tried with all my might I just couldn't. It was as if a veil blocked me from my mystic abilities and the harder I tried, the more physically exhausted I became.
We followed Ivan through an eerie corridor, distinct club music filled the space as doors would open and close with oddly looking strangers leaving the club. There was something strange about this place, a man walking out from where the music was coming from spotted Ivan and immediately began to praise him in Russian, "zashchitnik nevinnykh i razrushitel' natsistov. Dlya menya bol'shaya chest' byt' v tvoyem prisutstvii, Kostolom", said the man. Ivan in return embraced him. "Kostolom?", I asked, "Bone Crusher", translated Makela. "you are intelligent as you are beautiful", Ivan complimented her.
I was starting to get tired of this dude throwing passes at Makela. Ta-hawa was indifferent to his compliment but I knew better. Bone Crusher? Ivan was rather friendly and humorous. The name didn't suit him.
"so the gods have decided to join us. Do you bring nectar?", started the man, "my friend, they are here on business", "Oh! I understand", he smirked. He cleared the way respectfully for us to continue about our business. We reach the far end of the corridor only to turn left to be greeted by another long corridor occupied by strange-looking beings. "This club is for the supernatural", Ivan turned to us to explain. "The Supernatural?", I was curious, "Yes. Vampires, werewolves, Jikinikis, Mahahas, Adzes and other types of monsters. Once we even opened our doors to demigods but that was bad idea", he sighed at the thought, "why?", Ta-hawa asked, "they were the centre of attraction in a club filled with monsters", he shuddered. We followed Ivan down the stairs, took another left but then we heard gunshots. "something is wrong, c'mon", he said, now we were running into a potential fight.
We crouched next to some crates to get a better view without being detected. "She must have managed to break free", whispered Ivan. Bodies laid lifeless on the cemented surface. He tried to steal a peek but Elizabeth Bathory spotted him. Two shots followed in his direction. "I see you, Russian", cried Bathory. "I am leaving here alive so don't test me!", she shot fires again, near Ivan. "wait for my signal", said Ta-hawa as she activated her mask and covered her face with her cowl. I nodded, "toss the guns", she whispered to Ivan. She caught the pistols whilst in midair, right in the centre of gunfire. With both PSS silent pistols, she returned fire whilst walking towards Bathory. Suddenly…
Silence.
"yield!", bellowed Makela. "NEVER. NOT TO MONSTERS", cried Bathory. Ivan took out another pistol from behind, a P-96. "what, man?", he noticed me staring. "do you work for AmmuNation!?", I asked rhetorically. I momentarily drifted in thought, thinking of my favourite video game. "let's join", he smiled, "don't", I warned but it was too late. Bathory had shot. The fire hit Ivan and he fell next to me, still smiling, this dude was either brave or just nuts. "Just a flesh wound", he examined the wound. It passed his neck, close enough to kiss his skin. He was lucky. "I have had worst, my new friend", he brushed himself and got back to position. They exchanged fire for a moment until they were out of rounds.
After exhausting the air with gunfire, it turned into a run and chase. By the time I and Ivan reached them at an opening, probably a stock room out of usage, Makela was already on top of her, throwing punches more like a brawler than an Apostle. "that's enough", Ivan called. Makela turned to examine him, "are you alright?", "just a scratch", Ivan replied. Really man! No one asked me how I was! "you… cannot escape this place", explained Ivan. Makela grabbed her by the neck, lifted her and thrust her against one of the pillars. Bathory was in immense pain to even voice her shriek, she cried silently in torture. The suit could multiply the wearer's physical strength, making it simple for Makela to toy with Bathory. Ta-hawa was in control, I, on the other hand, felt rather useless.
Elizabeth collapsed on the cold concrete surface. She coughed blood as she staggered to crawl. Ta-hawa was about to continue manhandling her until she managed to raise a hand, "isn't this the part where we talk…", she surrendered. "then talk", I said. "first tell your 'brother' to step back", she coughed again blood. Makela stepped back, "talk!", she prompted. "spare my life and I'll give you whatever you want", she begged. "why?", asked Ta-hawa. "look, I know who you are, Apostles. It also means I am in deep shit. Believe me, eliminating me won't change anything", she sighed.
"I am no longer useful to my former comrades, the Templars", she elucidated. I tried again to read her mind but couldn't and yet once more, my strength drained. I didn't know if she was telling the truth or just the cockroach in her trying to survive in the face of death.
I could read people's minds and even compel them for my own selfish gain but for some unknown reason, I couldn't even do it for a just cause. I guess I am a Monster. I removed my cowl as I squatted next to Elizabeth, my fingers crossed with my elbows resting on either lap. I deactivated my mask, revealing my face.
Bathory looked stunned, "you are human!?", she muttered. "Deucalion. His on the Nights' Table. Give him to me and I'll let you go", I offered. Bathory smiled, her face covered in blood gave her the appearance of a battered famished vampire. "So… this… is what it's all about!?", she scorned. "I would love to give you Duke. He is one of the two reasons I ended up here, unprotected. After all my service to them", she spat. "give me Deucalion", I said. "I won't and that's because I can't, I don't know where he is but I can give you someone else on the Table in exchange for my life". "you have been fraternizing with the Nazis, it's enough to kill you right now", spat Ivan. "I'm just a survivor…", she laughed madly.
"Go on", said Makela. "do we have a deal", interjected Bathory. "it was difficult for us to find her", complained Ivan. "do we have a deal?", she insisted. "deal!", said Makela. Ivan was taken aback by this decision though he said nothing to argue. "I can give you Mahmoud Abdul, he is the second reason why I am here", "go on", I prompted. "338 Lafayette St, Noho Star. Master password; 0046664", she finished. There was no sign of uneasiness as she gave the information, apart from her pain, courtesy of Makela. "he has been using that closed store as a hideout". She added. "and you know this because?", Ivan asked. "I have been tracing him", "revenge, huh? They used you only to forsake you", interrupted Makela. "that's all?", "yes…", she muttered. "you may leave", I gestured to the exit as I stood up. Ivan looked rather displeased at our decision.
Elizabeth Bathory struggled to her feet, she stood for a moment and stared at us in disbelief that we were letting her go. She stuttered a few words and summoned her might to launch herself in a run as fast as she could. Ivan flinch uncomfortably and began to mutter several words in Russian. Elizabeth Bathory was several feet away from the exit. I nodded at Makela and on cue, she released her Ark in spear mode and launched it at Elizabeth. The spear protruded from just above her kidneys, out under her left breast, pinning her against the exit door.
She bellowed in bewilderment as blood trickled from her mouth. "why?", she muttered. "I didn't… lie", tears cascaded from her eyes. Makela forced the remaining part of the Ark spear through Elizabeth, thrusting the spear with sinister pleasure. She shrieked, "I know you did not…", replied Makela, after tormenting her. "and… yet… you… struck me, anyway…", "you are on the list. Killing you is the mission", concluded Makela. She walked on the opposite side of the exit door, put a foot against the door and pulled her spear. Elizabeth shrieked in agony. Her body collapsed to the cold concrete surface, motionlessly.
Ivan was taken yet aback by Makela's mercilessness. I for one was equally shocked. It was there and then I came to realise that Ta-hawa and Makela were two different people sharing the same body. Ta-hawa was sweet, warm and annoying. Ta-hawa was kind-hearted and resourceful. Makela was an excellent murderess psychopath with the proclivity of inflicting gruesome pain on her victims. I didn't know which of the two I liked more, beauty or the beast.
"we'll have to celebrate in Russian style", smiled Ivan, "meet me at Khabarovsk Street on the east side of Moscow", "how will we know which house?", asked Ta-hawa. Just then I realised that the invite wasn't really for me. "You are intelligent woman… just follow the music. I will get things started", he gave his goodbyes and went off, so I thought but then he turned around, "meet with Inessa before you leave", he advised.
About a few minutes later, after collecting the memento of our first target, we were back in Inessa's office, listening to her mobster stories. Her anti-hero devotion to the anti-fascists. "Oh! I must be boring you with my stories", yes she was. I was not interested in how a beauty queen became a mobster queen back in the Soviet Union, "no, not at all, please carry on", Ta-hawa replied quickly when she noticed I was about to say, yes, your stories aren't worth my time. "It is very impressive, you achieved so much, especially during such a period", complimented Ta-hawa. "Right, we best be- ", "so tell us, how did you meet the Maditau?", Ta-hawa interrupted me.
Inessa smiled at the thought. "It is a harrowing tale- just in a moment. Ivan!?", she cried out for him. "Ivan!?", she called for him again, "he left", I said, "where to?", "huh… khastrokoy… I think", I vaguely remembered the name. "Khabarovsk street. He said it is on the east side of Moscow. He wants to throw a celebration", corrected Ta-hawa. "No! that's his home. You shouldn't have let him go there unescorted", cried Inessa. She was rather trembling than furious. She punched in numbers on her smartphone and barked words in Russian. She turned to us, "PLEASE, go after HIM", she pleaded.
We flew around east Moscow, from a birds view, it was difficult to point out anything in the evening. The built-in computer did most of the search and piloting. There were gunshots by the time we landed in front of the apartment building. Inessa arrived a few seconds later. She jumped out of the vehicle with her bodyguards behind her, "follow ME", she cried.
The building was already occupied by armed people, "Nazis!", offered Inessa, "Nazis!?", I was rather shocked. Three shots passed through the threshold of the main doors. We stood at either side of the entrance, waiting for an opening. "They won't stop.", Inessa cried. "we can shield them", Makela told me and I agreed. Masks activated, cowls covering our heads, Makela still had Ivan's pistols and at the ready. Makela took the lead, clearing the doorway, I followed from behind with Nimzy, making sure each door remained locked. The computer spotted heat signatures of people mostly laying on the floor to avoid being shot. "We're almost THERE", said Inessa. Her voice was hoarse. she was devastated. "I knew it… why did I leave him out of my sight", she murmured as she wept.
"Ivan", she called, "vse v porydke", he shouted from the other room as we entered the apartment. Inessa ran past me, shoved Makela's hand who tried to caution her. It was far too late. Two shots and menacing silence followed…
"Ivan", cried Inessa as she rushed to his body. Her bodyguards followed suit after the Nazi who jumped out the window. She wept as she held his corpse. The sight was disheartening, seeing her as she cried as if the loss of her own child. Her voice echoed through the building. Doors began to open, probably occupants who felt safe to come out after the gun fires. Distinct mummer around the building but that was covered by Inessa's wail. "I will KILL THEM… I WILL KILL ALL OF THEM", she wailed.
Police siren got louder, this meant that they were close by. "we need to leave", I warned. "no… I'm not leaving him…", "BUT the authorities", pointed out Makela, "NO… you go. I will take it from here", she said. It took us a while to move a muscle but we were left with no alternative. If the cops found us, more bodies would be left dead.
We sat on the banks of the Kazungula Quadripoint, it's the world's only point where four countries meet, geographically. "look over there"; Ta-hawa pointed at the landscape yonder the river. "what do you see?", she asked although, still disheartened by the death of Ivan. "Well, I guess, that would be Namibia. That one there would be Botswana. The one over there, would be Zimbabwe and I believe, we are standing on Zambia", I pointed across the vast plain. "is that all?", she asked.
"well…", I muttered. "four cities are surrounding us; The Great City of Zimbabwe. The Grand City Mapungubwe. The Magnificent City of Mupata and over there, New Punt" she point at the vast of Namibia. "Every vast land you see in Alkebulan is occupied by New Kemet. It's…"; "hidden in plain sight", I finished her sentence. "how come I can't see it", I asked, quite disappointed. "You aren't Kememu. If you could see what I'm seeing", she sighed.
Silence shadowed us. Ivan had been someone we shared not more than twenty hours together BUT his death… the way his corpse laid still in Inessa's arms as she wailed in pain and hurt. His face defiled by two shots to the temple. I realised for every life we took, even in the name of our creed, they were only justified to our cause. To the other faction, we were the adversary…
I keep running that day, over and over again. Would he have died if we had not met? Time did not permit us to mourn an acquaintance with a common interest. We spent most of our weeks incognito around 338 Lafayette Street.
We would scout the area every day, calculating patterns in random circulation as people went about their business. Ta-hawa would normally scout from above the building on 40 Bleeker, whilst, I would blend in like a tourist, roaming about the section. "JK!?", said a familiar voice. I turned around to the owner. "Rachel!?", she paused in the doorway of 56 Bleeker street Bar, "What!?", we said simultaneously. She then proceeded to embrace me, which, was rather genuine than pretentious. "whoa. What are the odds!", she beamed. I was equally surprised. "what are you doing here?"; "I should be asking you THAT", her face turned to resentment, "where have you been! We have been worried sick. You can't just disappear like that!", she punched me on the chest.
"If I told you, you won't believe me. I was sort of kidnapped", this partial lie made the matter worse, "what!", she touched my arm, concerned. "it's alright. I'm fine now.", I assured. "good", she sighed in relief. We walked towards Noho Star, catching up on the last year and how my disappearance made local news, "me?", I was bewildered that anyone cared that much for me. "So when I got the first chance, I came here. In search of the American dream", she counted her story, "this must-have broken Kai's heart", I said. "I have to stand on my own", her tone became defensive, "I respect that, Rachel", I quickly replied.
We stood in front of Noho Star, momentarily. "are you planning to rob it", she teased. "no…", "well… let's move on then". We crossed the street and continued to pass the target building. "how long have you been here?", I asked her, "well, a week now. I'm just trying to get the vibe of this place. It's busy like Cape Town but with a smell", she admitted.
Here were two Africans complaining about New York, yeah, our village back in Africa smelled way better.
"How's Miss Sahir and…", "Mishka? Right?", "yes…", I murmured. "I knew there was something between the two of you. They are fine. They just miss you. Not knowing whether you are alive or dead. If Kai-", she paused at the name of Malachi. We stopped again, "I know I look horrible to you for leaving Kai… but…", "you had to do what you had to do. As I said, I respect that", I assured her I was not judgemental. Who was I to judge anyone?
An African American girl stood outside Bite, waving at us, Rachel returned the gesture, "that's my roommate, Hazel. We having lunch, wanna join?", she offered. "you sound American, already", "nah. Ek is van die Kaap", she said in Afrikaans followed by a sabela (and because you don't know, sa-be-la or I-sa-be-la is the language spoken among the Numbers Gang and by those like us). "so you can sabela?", I could not help but smile. Rachel gestured a 27 sign with her left hand to solidify her response.
"I'm already starting to miss home", she confessed, "hey, this is my current address. It's not far from here and that's Hazel's number", she pointed at Hazel from afar as she handed me the card. "don't be a stranger, okay?", "awe", I replied. Now I know you thinking, awe, as in; an overwhelming feeling of reverence, fear or admiration of something grand. No. To us, mense van die Kaap (people from the Cape), awe, as in; ah-weh, is a greeting or affirmation. Now, let's move on.
I returned in front of the building on 40 Bleeker street. Ta-hawa joined me a few minutes later, disguised also as a tourist. "who's the girl friend?", "I'm not doing this with you", I said flatly. "anything new?", I asked. "well, as usual, no patterns out of the ordinary and we have been here for almost two months", she replied. "you have scanned the inside?", "Yeah. Nothing stands in our away, besides caution", she replied. "we don't want to attract attention, caution is good", "what? Are you afraid of a billionaire with an iron suit, sporting a Mungo Jerry beard?", she laughed.
It was in the witching hour that we made our way into the store. We looked around for signs of remnants. We found what we were looking for in the stock room, which, stocked nothing but served as a hideout. "check the laptop", said Ta-hawa. I punched in the master password to unlock the notebook, bingo! Full access. "this is a client PC", I muttered, "what?", "it's a client. It's connected to a server. So we get to see whatever the owner is doing, it's kinda like TeamViewer", I explained. "what's Team Viewer?", "I'll explain later", I assured.
We sat for another forty-eight-hour, waiting for any interaction from the notebook. "this is exhausting", complained Ta-hawa. "be patient", I suggested. It had been weeks since Moscow but I was still drained and this worried me because it made me rather inept. My health began to decline, this was also something I was finding difficult to elude from Ta-hawa. "why don't we do what American teens do when there's no adult supervision", she chuckled. "you are not funny", I scoffed. "you so boring…", she stood from the seat and began to pace around the room, looking at various objects. The notebook began to flash. "Ta-hawa!", I called. "his booking a flight from Damascus to Dubai, flight... 912", "hold on… that's less than four hours from now", exclaimed Ta-hawa. "check what hotel he is looking into", " Al Bustan Rotana Hotel. Room 230", I replied.
Ta-hawa activated her helmet to call in a favour. "Jacob, we need quick transportation to the Rotana Hotel in Dubai, room 230 to be exact", she informed and waited…
No reply…
She repeated the message but to no avail.
"Jacob!", she called in.
Silence…
"Jacob…", she tried, again.
"uncle-", she was interrupted. "yes, I heard you the first time. I have your coordinates. Stand together and brace yourselves", he finally replied. "what? Doesn't he like to be called uncle", I muttered, "Juda, I can hear you. It is going to get uncomfortable for the next eight seconds, just try not to breathe, it makes matters worse", he advised. "I'll teleport you close by so you can follow your target", he added. Due to this, Ta-hawa rushed to the counter and grabbed two flasks, "what's that?", I asked, "succinylcholine", she replied, rushing back to form a ruck for teleportation.
Unceremoniously, we were sucked into the air, mind you, the feeling is rather disturbing. My mind was extracting essences out of my soul, my body was split into billions of pieces. My eyes were swelling and all I could think of was, don't breathe. Eight seconds is a very long time. Eventually, everything began to synchronise.
We followed from above from the moment he arrived at the airport in Damascus. We boarded the same flight and set a seat behind him, undetected. Ta-hawa bumped against him on purpose as we entered the terminal building at the Dubai International Airport, "Stupid girl", he muttered. "what was that for", "I needed a reading on the target", she replied. He could have just said stupid, or nothing at all. He had to say girl, he was going to regret that later. "he's nervous", Ta-hawa, no, it wasn't Ta-hawa, Makela smirked. "that's because he is alone, well done by the way", I complimented her. Makela used her sorcery to delay the flight where Mahmoud's bodyguards were.
We tailed him from a taxi since he was unable to get any proper escort, courtesy of Makela. We followed him, undetected into the Rotana Hotel. The reception area was adorned in the exquisite craftsmanship, white marble floor, the wall fell into the same vibe with a touch of fine woodwork. As planned, he settled in room 230. Mahmoud thought it was the best place to conceal himself, how wrong he was. He had left the room in the afternoon, giving us time to orchestrate our assassination.
It was late in the evening when he had returned to his room, he had spent roughly three hours, doing what? It didn't matter. It was not going to matter. I stood camouflaged next to the door. "you should have done this before I arrived", he scolded the housekeeper, Makela in disguise, she bowed her head, slinking her face. "so…sorry sir.", she apologized. He gestured rudely for her to get inside. He followed and I guess by default he locked the door from the inside. Perhaps he thought he could have taken advantage of the housekeeper but that did not matter. By locking the room, he gave himself to us.
Makela pertinaciously went to the bathroom to work. He removed his coat whilst staring at the view beyond the sealed window. "don't think I haven't noticed you", he muttered. "have you come to take my life?", he asked. "you should at least let me enjoy my dinner. I'll allow you to watch", he smirked as his head turned to the bathroom. Makela came out with toiletries, her head was still faced down. She once again bumped into Mahmoud, faking her fall next to him. She quickly shocked him on the leg with succinylcholine, the same one she grabbed from his hideout in New York.
"you stupid girl!!", he shrieked as he reached for his leg, simultaneously, he also took the liberty of smacking Makela on the head. Makela fell next to my feet. This fool was just making it enjoyable for her to kill him in the most inhumane way possible. "I'll teach you a lesson", he scolded the housekeeper. Makela began to laugh, sinisterly. Her housekeeper uniform began to shred as the suit extracted and the Border Tribe robe began to materialise. "what!?", he cried. I stepped out of the shadows, revealing myself. "you!?", he yelped and tried to run but could not move as his body was entering paralysis. "No! please!", he pleaded. It came to me that he wasn't talking to me before. He was expecting an attempt on his life but not from us.
The fear in his eyes as sweat flooded his face. The pungent of trepidation. I could hear his heart beating irregularly. This man only acted tough around people, he looked like nothing more than a coward. I had more respect for Bathory, she had the guts to negotiate with death. "Ask… ANYTHING…", he cried but Makela wasn't in the mood to entertain him. I performed an Adrenaline Manoeuvre, Spartan kicking him on the chest which, drained even more of what little strength I had. He collided against the wall and dropped on the king-sized bed. Makela proceeded to electrocute him and only stopped when his body began to emit smoke. He coughed, this dude was a tough nut to crack, I thought to myself. His sign of life only made Makela happy. "please…", he muttered, begging for mercy.
There were men outside the door trying to break in, perhaps other assassins. They were also on the flight to Dubai, though, we beat them to the kill and most interesting, they were going to take the fall. "say stupid!", she scolded at him with sinister scorn. "Mahmoud…", Makela smirked, "say stupid girl", she repeated. She had her hands to his chest, her face concealed by her cowl. Mahmoud was forced to look at darkness as his eyes cemented on the dark void under Makela's cowl. Makela removed her cowl, revealing an alien-like helmet. The Apostles' mask or helmet, if you will, was plain, it had no facial features, just uncertainty. "finish it", I said. The men on the other side of the door were still working on the door's lock system, muttering about. Makela deactivated her mask, revealing her face, Mahmoud's eyes widened in bewilderment, "you… from… the airport", he managed. "now say, stupid girl!", she bellowed.
As soon as he said the first word, Makela grabbed the pillow and pushed it against his face. He cried for help but he was too weak to make any difference. "are you just going to stand there!", she scolded me as her elbow was pressing against the pillow on Mahmoud's face. "you seem to have everything under control", I reasoned whilst resting my left arm on my abdomen. "He is gone", she finally said whilst examining her kill. Makela went for the door, "they'll enter in any minute now", she said. "uncle, get us out of here, now", she spoke into her communicator. Jacob replied a few seconds later. "Jk, check his pockets for his phone", she said. I went through the phone for intel, "I hope you find romantic walks fancy", "why?", she asked, "we going to France", I smiled. I tossed the phone over to her, "take pictures", "with pleasure", she cracked up. The pictures of each kill on the deceased's phone were our twisted way of collecting mementoes. So far, we had collected two, the first belongs to Elizabeth Bathory.
The door unlocked…
"huh!", managed the first of the four as we momentarily stared at each other. On cue, we were sucked again into the air, leaving the men in bewilderment.