John sat in his sleek, modern office, surrounded by the muted hum of high-tech equipment and the soft glow of his screens. His fingers moved methodically across his keyboard, scrolling through a barrage of messages, each one more irrelevant than the last.
"Political message... delete. I deeply invite you to partner with... delete. Stay away from Dere... Ah, this one's bold... delete."
He paused, a frown creasing his forehead as he glanced at his side table, cluttered with stacks of documents and coffee cups. His office, a symbol of his success, now felt stifling.
"You know what, just scan through them and delete all irrelevant messages."
"Yes, boss."
John sank deeper into his plush leather chair, hoping for a moment of respite. He leaned back, trying to find a comfortable position. The soft, ambient lighting did little to soothe his growing unease.
"Um, about our investigation into those political murders—any new discoveries?"
"No, boss. No new leads. All we know is that the same murderer was involved in both cases. The blood was used to draw the emblem of an old cult group that was prominent about ten to fifteen years ago."
"And that's all?"
"Yes, boss."
John exhaled sharply, frustration evident in his posture. His phone buzzed with a call from an anonymous number. He scowled and muttered to himself.
"Damn threats."
The phone rang again, the same number flashing on the screen. He growled,
"Block it."
"Done," Adeola's voice responded.
John tried to relax, closing his eyes, but the persistent buzzing of his phone shattered his attempt at rest. The phone rang once more, this time from a different number.
"Silent the phone,"
John commanded, trying to ignore the disturbance.Minutes passed, and Adeola's voice cut through his attempts at rest.
"The same number has called ten times already."
John's frustration boiled over.
"Alright, put them online. Let's give them a piece of me."
Adeola connected the call. The voice on the other end was calm but ominous.
"Hey, Mr. John. I called to warn you. Stay away from Dere."
John scoffed. "Ah, damn it. Just another threat."
Before he could end the call, the voice continued with a chilling tone. "Continue hanging around, and you'll join the list of politicians on my death list. You've been warned. I called you because you seemed innocent. I'll contact you when it's your turn."
"Duh, I get at least five threat calls a week. What makes yours special? In fact, if you call this number again, you'll wish you'd never existed."
A harsh beep signaled the end of the call. John's earlier attempt at relaxation was now overshadowed by a gnawing sense of unease. Adeola noticed the tension in his boss's demeanor.
"Are you alright, boss?"
"Not really," John admitted, rubbing his temples.
"Something about that caller felt… different. Like there was an inner confirmation."
"I'm not sure I can offer advice on such matters," Adeola responded carefully.
"Hmmm. I know what I have to do.
"John rose from his chair, adjusting his tailored suit with deliberate movements. The weight of the situation seemed to settle on his shoulders as he straightened his posture.
"Prepare my armor... And arrange a meeting with Blessing."
"Yes, boss."
"Tell her it's important."
"Will do."
Blessing slipped into her room and collapsed onto her bed, the exhaustion from her late-night gym session weighing heavily on her. The thrill of sneaking out was still fresh, but she knew that if her parents ever found out she was still working out, they'd have a fit.
"So much for keeping secrets, John," she muttered, frustration tinged with weariness in her voice.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, jolting her from her thoughts. She glanced at the screen and saw John's name.
She sighed deeply."Important..." she read aloud, feeling a pang of annoyance.But then she remembered something pressing.
"Oh right, I need to talk to him about that dream."
She quickly washed up and made her way downstairs, hoping to sneak out before her parents noticed. As she descended the stairs, her mother's voice cut through the morning quiet.
"Hello, no skipping breakfast!"
"Aww, come on," Blessing whined.
"What? If you want to be independent, go get married."
"You know I can afford to rent a place," Blessing protested.
"I don't care. Until you have your own family, you follow the rules of this one. And one of them is dining with us."
Blessing bit her lip in resignation and trudged to the dining table. Her parents joined her, their faces already expectant. Before they could speak, she excused herself.
"I think I need to use the restroom."Her parents gave her a nod, and she dashed upstairs, her unfinished meal a testament to her haste. Back in her room, she opened the window and saw the gathering storm clouds, a sure sign of rain later in the day. She decided to grab a coat from her wardrobe.As she rummaged through her closet, an ID card slipped from a hidden pocket, fluttering to the floor. Blessing's face fell as she picked it up and quickly shoved it back into the depths of her wardrobe. She couldn't afford any slip-ups about her real age. She locked the wardrobe, glanced out the window, and whispered to herself.
"Sorry, Mum. Hope you won't be too upset."
With her coat tightly rolled in her hand, she carefully climbed out the window, her movements deliberate and cautious.
Blessing's taxi rolled to a stop in a dilapidated part of town. She slipped out of the vehicle, her official car left behind to avoid drawing attention. Clad in a dark raincoat and sunglasses, she maneuvered through the maze of crumbling buildings, the first soft droplets of rain beginning to fall as expected. She waited beneath a rickety awning, the steady patter of rain adding a rhythm to her growing impatience.A figure in a black jacket and face mask emerged from the shadows, stealthily approaching her. He held a cloak in his hand, the material rustling quietly as he closed the distance. Without warning, he draped the cloak over Blessing's head, sending her into a startled frenzy. Her initial panic quickly turned into action; she spun around and drove her elbow into his face, causing him to stagger.The figure scrambled back, trying to regain his footing. With a mix of desperation and recognition, he removed his face mask, revealing his identity.
"It's me, okay?"
John said, wincing as he tried to stand.Blessing, despite her sunglasses, had an unmistakable frown etched deeply on her forehead. Her frustration was palpable. Without hesitation, she landed another punch on John's face.
"Oow!"
John yelped, rubbing his cheek.
"That's what you get for treating me like one of your age-mates you can mess around with," Blessing snapped, turning on her heel and starting to walk away. John rushed to catch up, calling out,
"Hey, where do you think you're going?"
She paused but didn't turn around. "You're the one who called me here. If you don't have anything important to say, I'm leaving."
"Hey, are you like my mum or something? Do you even know how old I am? How old are you—"
John's attempt at deflection was cut short when Blessing turned to face him, her gaze steely. She poked at his chest, forcing him to take a step back."You do not ask a girl how old she is," she said firmly.
"Hey yo—"John stammered, trying to salvage his dignity.
"Oh, no, you're a young la—"
"GIRL!" Blessing interjected, her voice sharp and unyielding.
John looked at her, a mix of bemusement and annoyance crossing his face.
"Looks like you need to learn some respect, ma'am. This is multi-billionaire, Minister John here."
Blessing sighed deeply, sitting down on a nearby bench and pointing at him.
"Aspiring minister. And what is this you're doing? I've barely slept, knowing that every Adrotech product is under your thumb and now you intend to grab the whole governing system as well."
John sat beside her, his expression serious. "I know, but it's all for security. And since 'you know when,' I haven't overridden any gadgets."
"And didn't I warn you about that Dere guy?"
John shrugged dismissively. "Why should the legendary Iron Hero be worried about such threats?"
Blessing's frown deepened, her concern evident. She clutched the cloak, looking even more troubled.
"I know you're Iron Hero, but John is who I'm concerned about."
She hesitated, her face reddening slightly. "And that's why I'm worried. I have a date today and a meeting with a political figure, so if you've got something to say, make it quick."
"Yeah... I received a disturbing threat call. I know threats are part of the job, but this one felt different. I could sense something inside me."
Blessing's expression softened slightly.
"Don't worry, just stay vigilant and keep in touch with your instincts. You're Iron Hero, after all."
She handed him back the cloak. "Take this; it might protect you from the rain."
John's backpack suddenly transformed before her eyes, revealing his full suit of armor.
"Wha—"
"Like you said, I'm Iron Hero after all," John said, lifting into the air. As he zoomed away, he shouted, "Date all you want; you'll never find a guy better than me!"Blessing stared up in disbelief.
"Hey, what am I supposed to do with a coat and a cloak?" She yelled at the retreating figure.With a frustrated huff, she muttered under her breath,
"Better guy, my foot. Every guy's better than you."
Sighing heavily, Blessing turned away, dialing her phone as she made her way back to the waiting taxi. She remembers her dream and flinches. She reassures herself 'No need to tell him with all this murder news I'd rather not scae him more... I'll be sure to pray'. The rain intensified, matching the storm of emotions that swirled inside her.
Blessing sat in the back of a human-driven taxi, watching the scene outside gradually shift from the squalid slums to more upscale surroundings. The taxi's smooth ride was a welcome relief from the jarring streets she had just traversed.
"What a relief," she thought, appreciating the transition.
"At least no more bumpy roads."
As the taxi pulled up to the Van Vogel restaurant, right beside the opulent hotel building, she felt a flicker of relief. This was not only the location of her date but also the same place she was supposed to meet her political contact. The luxury of the Van Vogel enterprises was unmatched, a stark contrast to the gritty area she had just left.She paid the driver and stepped out, her raincoat glistening under the soft streetlights. Approaching the restaurant's glass doors, which slid open with a soft whoosh, she was greeted by the security personnel.
"Reservation for Onajite,"
she informed them, her voice steady despite her underlying tension. The machine by the entrance beeped, approving her entry, and the security men nodded, allowing her inside.As she walked through the hallway, she marveled at the room's grandeur, which resembled a gala setting more than a dining area. Her eyes quickly found her table—her boyfriend, Max, was already seated with a meal prepared for two. She made her way to him, sliding into the seat across from him.Max signaled for a waiter.
"What would you like?"
"Just a cocktail, the best you have," Blessing replied, her voice cool despite her nerves.The waiter departed, and Max's gaze fell on the cloak she wore.
"What's with the medieval cloak?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.Blessing's thoughts flashed back to her encounter with John. She struggled to mask her irritation. My revenge is coming soon, she resolved internally.
"It's nothing, just something for a friend," she said curtly.
Max chuckled.
"Okay, straight to the point. What did your mum say?"
Max stutters, "I ...uuhh...."
"Ugh, you still haven't told her, have you?"
Blessing's frustration was palpable.
"The thing is, you said you didn't want kids, and my parents are adamant about having grandkids. I'm their only child, and I don't know how to break it to them."
"I should've known you wouldn't do it. But you said you didn't want kids either. Why can't we just elope and live somewhere—"
Before she could finish, Max interrupted, his eyes downcast.
"About that, I don't think we can continue with this."
Blessing's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Her heart sank as Max gestured toward a woman sitting at a nearby table. She walked over with an elegant grace, her gown flowing behind her like a liquid veil. She approached their table and, with a casual familiarity, ruffled Max's hair. Blessing's jaw tightened as she struggled to hide her scowl. 'Why is he letting her do that?' she thought, a sense of betrayal rising within her. Max invited the woman to sit, and as she took her place, he introduced her.
"Blessing, this is Maya. Maya, this is Blessing, a friend of mine."
Blessing was struck dumb by the revelation.
"Fr—" she began, but the words caught in her throat.
Max continued, "My mum introduced Maya to me a few months back." He waved Maya away, and she sauntered back to her table.
"Sorry I didn't tell you earlier," Max said, his voice lacking any real apology. "I couldn't break my mum's heart by denying her the chance to see grandkids."
He stood up, walking over to join the other men at a nearby table, leaving Blessing in stunned silence.The waiter returned with her cocktail.
"Your cocktail, ma'am."
The sound of his voice jolted her back to reality. She took the glass with trembling hands and sipped slowly, her eyes catching sight of Maya and a guy looking like some old western film character exchanging friendly banter, their camaraderie seeming almost mocking.
'Why do this when you know what to expect' Blessing wondered bitterly. 'And why can't I hate this man more? He's caused all this pain.'
Overwhelmed, she rested her head on the table, tears streaming silently down her face. She wondered why she continued to try when the expected pain always cut so deeply.After a few moments, Blessing composed herself, wiped away her tears, and left the cocktail unfinished. With a heavy heart, she prepared to head to her next engagement—the meeting with her political contact at the Van Vogel Rave Club.
The night had finally arrived , and the Van Vogel club pulsed with energy . The bass tracks reverberated through the room , making the very walls vibrate . Multicolored disco lights spun in hypnotic patterns , casting . fleeting shadows across the faces of the crowd . In one dimly lit corner , Blessing sat , her mind churning with doubt . She tugged nervously at the mask covering her nose , wondering again why she'd agreed to this meeting .
As she surveyed the throng of party goers , a figure caught her eye . A young girl weaving through the crowd - someone familiar .
'Is that Mr. Edema's granddaughter?' she wondered , her heart skipping a beat . 'What's she doing here?' But before she could ponder further , she chastised herself , 'And what am I even doing here?'
Moments later, her contact arrived, his identity betrayed by the imposing bodyguards flanking him. They parted the of people with practiced ease, making a direct path to her table. The politician sat down with a practiced, polished smile, immediately signaling for
a waiter.
"I'm sure you don't want alcohol," he said smoothly as the juice arrived.
Blessing shrugged, lifting the glass to her lips. The sweet taste of the juice was almost a relief in the midst of the throbbing tension she felt. She eyed him over the rim of her glass, her voice cutting through the club's noise.
"So, how do you intend to coax me to endorse you?"
"Straight to the point, I see. It might surprise you that I can be quite persuasive, Miss Blessing."
She let out a humorless laugh, thoughts tinged with bitterness. Another self-assured, arrogant man. She barely concealed her contempt.
"If you don't have anything better-"
Her words faltered as a sudden wave of dizziness hit her. The room spun, the flashing lights becoming streaks of blinding color. She saw the politician's
smug smile, felt her limbs grow heavy. Panic gripped her as realization dawned.
'Oh no..'
She tried to rise, but her body betrayed her, and the last thing she saw was the politician gesturing to his men. They moved quickly, supporting her slumped form, leading her out of the club as she stumbled in a fog. Across the room, Dumi, unnoticed, watched the scene with a knowing sadness. She shook her head as she slipped out of the club, muttering under her breath, "Another lady's life destroyed."
Dumi made her way to the Van Vogel hotel, where she was scheduled to work the night shift as a cleaner. The building
loomed ahead, a stark contrast to the lively club beside it. As she handed her pass to the security guards, she couldn't
shake the gnawing feeling in her gut. "If only I had something better to do," she sighed, her voice laced with resignation.
Inside one of the hotel's opulent rooms, Blessing lay unconscious on the bed, her
breath shallow. The politician stood by, watching with cold detachment as his men began to strip her of her clothing. They had just removed her jacket
when a sharp knock interrupted the sordid proceedings.
"Go see who it is," the politician ordered, pointing to one of his men.
The guard moved to the door, opening it just a crack. But before he could react, a blade flashed through the gap, slicing his face. He cried out, stumbling back, his yelp alerting the others. Weapons were drawn as they prepared to confront the
unseen assailant.
"Goons," a voice whispered from the shadows. "AIl the better for me."
The intruder, a slight figure in the darkness, wasted no time. She hurled a vase at the chandelier, shattering it in a burst of glass and plunging the room into pitch-black chaos. But the dark was her ally, not theirs. Her senses heightened, she moved like a wraith, silent and lethal.
She struck first, driving her knife into the gut of the nearest man. The others, swinging wildly the dark, found only empty air. The sounds of their clumsy attempts to find her betrayed their positions. She slipped between two men, deftly ducking their blows before plunging her blade into their sides. A desperate grunt from the corner told her that one of them had tried to reach for the alternate light switch, but her
knife found him first.
"Not so fast" she murmured, her voice barely audible over the sound of another body hitting the floor.
Another goon lunged at her from behind. She sidestepped, grabbing a curtain rope and using it to trap his arm. A series of rapid stabs left him slumping to the ground. But as she fought, another man managed to grab her from behind, locking his arm around her neck. She
struggled, her fingers straining for her knife, but it was out of reach. Thinking quickly, she kicked off her shoe, sending it flying into the curtain rod. The rod crashed down, striking her attacker on the head and loosening his grip enough for her to break free.
Blessing stirred on the bed, her vision blurred but slowly returning. The room was dark, but she could make out shadowy figures locked in combat. A small figure-nimble, deadly-was systematically dismantling the larger foes. Her movements were fluid, each
strike calculated, each dodge perfect. The small figure moved to one of the fallen men, dipping her fingers in his blood to paint a symbol on the wall. With a flick of a switch, the lights snapped on, revealing the carnage. Blessing's eyes
widened in horror as she took in the blood-soaked scene. Her scream echoed in the room, a shrill sound of terror and confusion. The girl, her task complete, leaped through the window just as security men flooded the room. All that was left was a bloodied room and a terrified Woman, staring at the mutilated body of the politician she had come to meet.