Engineer Taiwo Hassan looked at his wife, gave her an almost imperceptible nod, and turned to the agent stationed with them. Maintaining steady eye contact, Taiwo's gaze bore into the agent until the man growled impatiently.
"Bobo yii, wetin sup?" the agent snapped. "See as you dey look me. You want collect your papa size, abi?"
Taiwo's anger bubbled up, his throat tightening as rage overtook him. "I might have changed my family name," he said, his voice rising. "I might hate what they used to do, but their blood still runs in me. Their art—the deadly dance of lives—is in me."
He paused, his tone hardening. "I am a son of the Agbajo Ikú—the Coven of Death."
---
Modupe froze as the words left Taiwo's lips. "The Agbajo Ikú." Hearing it again sent a shiver down her spine, though she knew he meant no harm.
Her mind spiraled back to the first time she had encountered him, years ago. Back when she was not yet Dr. Modupe Hassan but simply Modupe, the last living member of the Qareebah family.
The Qareebahs had once been a powerful dynasty, known for their influence and unyielding stance against the shadowy assassin guild known as the Agbajo Ikú. Her parents and siblings had fought to expose the guild's machinations, working tirelessly to dismantle their networks. But the Coven of Death was relentless. They struck without warning, and one by one, her family fell—her father ambushed in his office, her mother poisoned at a diplomatic event, her siblings hunted like prey.
Modupe had survived only because she had fled, abandoning everything she knew. She had spent months in hiding, always watching over her shoulder, haunted by the knowledge that the Agbajo Ikú would never stop until the Qareebah name was erased from history.
And then he had come for her.
She remembered the night vividly—the shadows of the crumbling safe house she had taken refuge in, the eerie silence broken only by the whisper of wind through shattered windows. Modupe had been pouring over old documents, desperately trying to piece together her family's work, when she had felt it: the distinct sensation of being watched.
He emerged from the darkness like a specter, his movements silent and fluid. His face was concealed by a mask, but his presence was unmistakably deadly. The signature blade of the Agbajo Ikú glinted in his hand, a weapon that had taken countless lives.
She had braced herself for death, her heart pounding as he approached. "So this is how it ends," she had thought. "I die like the rest of my family."
But the killing blow never came.
Instead, he had stopped mere inches from her, his blade trembling. Through the slits of his mask, she had seen his eyes—dark, calculating, but filled with something unexpected: doubt.
"I can't do this," he had muttered, his voice barely audible. He lowered his weapon, stepping back. "You're not what they said you were."
It had taken time for her to trust him, to understand why he had spared her. Taiwo had been sent by the Agbajo Ikú to finish the job, to eliminate the last Qareebah. But something in her had stopped him—her resilience, her refusal to beg for mercy, her undeniable humanity.
He had confessed everything to her: how he had been raised within the guild, trained from childhood to be a weapon, a tool for their dark purposes. But in that moment, standing before her, he had seen through the lies they had fed him.
"I've taken so many lives," he had told her, his voice heavy with guilt. "But not yours. Never yours."
Their bond had grown from there, forged in the crucible of shared pain and survival. Taiwo had abandoned the Agbajo Ikú, risking his life to protect her. Together, they had built a new life, hiding in plain sight, far from the shadows of their past.
Yet, the shadows never truly left. Modupe knew the weight Taiwo carried—the blood on his hands, the ghosts of his victims. But he had chosen her over all of it, and for that, she would always love him.
---
"And one thing about my family: we take no insults." Taiwo screamed..
As the present snapped back into focus, Modupe's chest tightened. She saw the fire in Taiwo's eyes, the same fire that had burned on that fateful night. He was no longer the assassin sent to kill her. He was her protector, her partner, her everything.
Taiwo's movements were swift and calculated, honed by years of deadly training.As Taiwo prepared himself, the Sentinel Vision glasses, still perched on his face, displayed a stream of tactical data across his view. It highlighted potential weak points in the agent's stance and movements, offering precise timing for counterattacks. Taiwo's heart raced as he saw the combat patterns overlay on the agent's body, guiding him like a second instinct.
Before anyone could react, Taiwo leaped to his feet, his hands still cuffed in front of him. With a burst of strength, he rushed toward the agent, stomping on his toe with brute force. The agent let out a yelp of pain, doubling over, but Taiwo wasn't finished. Using the augmented visuals provided by Sentinel Vision, he executed a complicated Krav Maga wrist-lock maneuver, forcing the agent's arm into a painful angle while sweeping his legs out from under him.
The agent hit the ground hard, but Taiwo followed through with precision. He rammed his head into the man's stomach, knocking the wind out of him. As the agent stumbled, Taiwo deftly jumped and delivered a double kick to his chest, his movements fluid and precise. Sentinel Vision highlighted a protruding rod near the ceiling, which Taiwo used as leverage to vault upward.
Grabbing the rod with both hands, Taiwo let its sharp edge slice neatly through the handcuffs, freeing him. The system recalibrated immediately, adjusting to his unrestrained state and identifying the agent's next move before he even made it.
Now free, Taiwo turned his attention back to the stunned agent, who was reaching for his weapon. The glasses flashed a warning. Taiwo didn't give him a chance. Using another advanced Krav Maga move, Taiwo disarmed the agent with a precise wrist twist and followed it with a roundhouse kick, sending the man sprawling face-first onto the ground.
Taiwo pounced, driving his knee into the base of the agent's neck, right where the spinal column exited the skull. The glasses offered a faint overlay of the pressure points he needed to target, but Taiwo barely needed the guidance now—his instincts were razor-sharp.
Gripping the agent's head in both hands, Taiwo applied pressure at the spinal joint with his knee and forcefully jerked the neck to the side.
A loud "crack" reverberated in the van.
The agent's gurgling breaths faded as he succumbed to his injuries.
In the midst of the chaos, Modupe seized the moment. Her eyes darted to the agent's rifle, which had clattered to the floor during Taiwo's assault. Moving quickly but silently, she grabbed the gun and turned her focus to the lock mechanism on the rear door of the Kudu-Class ATOV.
With her hands trembling slightly but her mind resolute, she disarmed the lock using a release lever just beneath the doorframe. The rear door hissed open, and without hesitation, Modupe slipped outside. The cold wind of the moving vehicle hit her face like a slap, but she steeled herself.
Gripping the edges of the doorframe, she climbed up to the roof of the speeding vehicle. The surface was slick and uneven, making her progress slow and dangerous. Crawling on her hands and knees, she made her way toward the front, the wind whipping her hair and clothes. Her heart pounded with every inch forward, but she kept her body low, her movements deliberate and careful.
Reaching the edge of the roof, she peered down into the front compartment of the vehicle through the partially open side window. Two agents were seated inside, their focus on the road and their communications equipment.
Summoning her courage, Modupe slid into the front through the window with feline grace. The agents barely had time to react before she swung the butt of the rifle into the driver's temple, knocking him unconscious instantly. The second agent scrambled for his weapon, but Modupe was faster. She swung the rifle again, this time at his arm, forcing him to drop the gun before delivering a swift kick to his chest that left him gasping for air.
She had taken control of the front compartment.
She took the wheel in her hands...and carefully decelerated the vehicle, while absorbed in all these. She did not notice another remaining agent behind her..
Agent Olivia Stone Ret. Lieutenant US Navy SEAL held her cold gun barrel to the back of Modupe's Skull..
Feeling the cold unforgiving weapon behind her head, Modupe slammed her feet hard on the brake pads, jolting Olivia out of balance.
At the same time, as if pre-planned, Taiwo jumped into the front compartment through the window with both his legs outstretched in a sharp kick. Modupe, realizing her husband aim, ducked and fingered the door open.
Olivia, still dazed from the jolt was hit squarely in chest by Taiwo's kick..and vaulted clear of Modupe's head and out of the open door.
Immediately, Modupe gunned the vehicle and sped off, leaving the beaten agent behind in the dust..
They were home free.