Three Months Ago – Somewhere in Milan
Thabiso stared at the documents in his hands, letting out a heavy sigh. The files were a collection of damning evidence he'd asked the only person he trusted—Anya—to retrieve.
These documents confirmed his worst fear: the organisation had no intention of ever letting him go. Not him. Not any operative. Once you joined Venta, your life belonged to them—till death.
They promised freedom... after "one last mission." But no one ever made it out. If you failed? They disavowed you. If you ran? You became target practice for fresh recruits.
Undisclosed Location
A server hummed to life in total darkness—no ordinary server, but a hyper-secure black box hundreds of times more powerful than anything on the surface web. Its sole purpose: to establish a voice call connecting a council that should not exist.
This council controlled the deadliest organisation in history: The Venta Division.
They called themselves The Coil—a circle of legendary assassins, each a ghost in the world of killers.
"If we all vote yes, the mission is a go."
"Better to remove a thorn before it becomes a pain in the ass."
"I agree. Echo's a ticking time bomb—one press and he goes boom."
"Fine. The mission is go."
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Thabiso snapped out of his daze. His smartwatch was flashing red.
"Shit."
He bolted to the window.
BOOM!
The house erupted into a fireball. Everything inside was incinerated. No one could have survived that.
But…
A few seconds later, a head emerged from the pool next to the house.
"Damn it…" Thabiso coughed.
"If I didn't set up that early warning air-defense system, those bastards would've got me."
He dragged himself out of the water, muscles burning, lungs tight.
"I've got two minutes before the cops show up… maybe three if I'm lucky."
He didn't waste another second.
Three Minutes Later
Police sirens wailed as emergency services arrived—police, fire department, then paramedics.
Four blocks away, Thabiso was already watching the scene from a hidden vantage point. A portable monitor streamed live footage.
"They'll want to confirm if I survived," he thought, eyes narrowed. "And I want to know who sent them."
Then he saw him.
A man in a police uniform. Moustache. Helmet. Playing the part.
But Thabiso knew that face—his handler in Milan.
He'd changed his look, sure. But Thabiso had seen that man too often, had studied every inch of him.
"The Venta," he hissed through gritted teeth.
After a moment, he powered off the monitor and exhaled.
"Judging by how messy the scene is, it'll take them two days—minimum—before they realize there's no body."
"That gives me two days to vanish."
And just like that, the best assassin in Venta became its most wanted.
Present Day
Just a few hours after the CBD incident, Thabiso stood before a bus, its LED sign glowing:
Gaborone → Johannesburg
An overnight ride. Nothing fancy. Just enough distance to buy time.
He knew Venta had found him here already. They'd find him again. His only chance was to outrun them... maybe even strike back—if the opportunity arose.
He didn't know how long he'd survive. But he wasn't about to die like a dog.
At the Border – Tlokweng-Zeerust Crossing
The bus rolled into the checkpoint. Botswana and South Africa had no harsh restrictions. All he needed was an ID.
And Thabiso had plenty.
He presented his Botswana passport—one of many fakes he'd collected over the years.
He was grateful. Unlike Europe or America, where crossing a border would light up half the intelligence networks, Southern Africa was still old school. No pings. No red flags. Not yet.
Still, he knew he hadn't shaken Venta completely.
"If I thought of South Africa," he muttered to himself, "then they can think of it too."
He needed a new plan—and fast.
Spend a few days in South Africa. Throw them off. Then move west. Cross into Namibia. From there, board a ship bound for Southeast Asia.
Disappear.