Novosibirsk, Russia

Whistling sinisterly as Ebun strode down the alleyway, she admired the tall buildings that surrounded the Novosibirsk province and the minimal ray of light that peeped down the dark path where she walked.

Not like any of these things were particularly fascinating, but she had to do her best to get her mind off this person she was about to kill.

When Sean informed her of one of the rapists' look-alikes a few days ago, Ebun froze in deep shock. The first question that came to her mind was: which of the rapists was it? Before Sean could even give her detailed descriptions of the guy's physical appearance, Ebun's mind had already traveled far.

The picture of that day, shredded into smaller kaleidoscopic images of each of the rapists except the timid guy among them, thrusting deeply into her in sinful oblivion. It all flooded her mind. She could never forget how miserable the six of them had made her feel. Even their voices, their grunts, the deep baritone laughter that escaped their lips, their ecstatic moans were unforgettable.

She could not forget the hoarse voice of the masked guy, the leader of the rapists, as he called on each of his gang members by their names, commanding them to take their turns on her. Now she was finally going to get a hold on one of them.

The description that Sean gave had truly matched the looks of one of her rapists. Sean didn't even have to go further with the analysis before she figured out which one it was. The description was that of the sallow-faced guy, Gilbert.

Gilbert was the first among the six men to have his way with her on that day. His enthusiasm on that afternoon was glued to her memory and the fore walls of her mind. She could never forget how he'd been quick to unbuckle his belt and shift his boxer briefs below his posterior, how he'd forcefully spread her hips apart.

Ebun had, within three days, imagined six hundred and sixty-eight different ways to murder the demon when she finally got to see him. Her mind worked ceaselessly like a treadmill ever since Sean gave her that piece of information.

But it got to the point where she had to stop herself from imagining further. She feared that the emotions involved in those vile visualizations would overrule and cloud her ability to focus on the mission at hand. If that happened, she wouldn't be able to function as she ought to. She'd be too scared to kill him, and that would constitute a major flop on her part.

Ebun was now a professional assassin, but it didn't mean that she'd gotten past her trauma. She was very much still a subject to the whims of her pain. When it comes to assassinating people, letting your past tragedy get in the way of your operation was a tricky game that could go both ways.

The overflow of emotions that comes from reminiscing on your tragedy could unleash the real potential of a murderer in you OR, that same overflow of emotions could hold you back and cause you not to function as you usually would.

Ebun couldn't risk such a chance, especially because she hadn't reached high heights of willpower. She didn't only feel anger or the thirst for vengeance. She was also hurt and still broken from what had happened thirteen years ago. The agony was timeless. The passing of the years took none of the pain away. Hence, she wasn't strong enough to make up her mind not to let her emotions get in the way.

So she would rather not overthink it.

As Ebun kept walking down the path, she kept her calm — chewing from her pack of Doritos and whistling quietly after swallowing each morsel. She'd been strolling in the alleyway for almost twelve minutes now, and all she could hear was the sound of rats clawing on empty candy wrappers. Where the hell was the guy?

Omo. I don't like stress ooo. Ebun complained in her mind. Moreover, she couldn't wait to get it over with so her hyperactive nerves would come to a still.

If the rapist wasn't in the alleyway, then there was no way he was in the university building. She'd already done a brief check, and there were people in literally every corner of the school building. Rapists and every other kind of criminal loved to function in discrete places — except for pickpockets. 

Ebun kept on walking nevertheless— past the brick walls, the closed down shops, and the linearly aligned trash cans that gave the alleyway a dingy smell. She made sure to look left and right occasionally and listened intricately to every sound wave like an antenna. If a rat clawed on a biscuit wrapper for too long, Ebun would deem it suspicious. If an odd smell lingered in the air for a little while, she paused to decipher its source.

While she kept guard, she kept her mouth working too, chewing casually on her Doritos.

Crunch, crunch, crun—

Slap.

Ebun stopped munching when she heard the last sound. The next sound was supposed to be of her chewing, so where did the slap sound come from? The hair on the pores of Ebun's skin tingled with excitement at the possibility of the rapist being nearby. Impulsively, Ebun felt the need to switch on her torch, but she could still see through the dimly lit path. Thank God it was daytime.

Slap. Slap. Slap.

"Ow!"

Now, it was not only the repetitive sound that she could hear. Someone had growled. The sound was more profound and somewhat traceable. Ebun continued to walk as vigilant as she could, making sure not to trip or stumble on any object on the ground so she wouldn't fall and make a loud noise. If she did, she'd lose her catch.

At first, she'd thought that the slap sound was coming from the rapist hitting someone or trying to force his way with whoever it was but with the slap slap sounds that came further, she realized she'd been wrong about her initial assumption.

The rapist was running. He was running away. He was fleeing on a path filled with objects — Perhaps gravel or food wrappers and nylons. Hence, the slap sound. He'd done something wrong and was trying to get away before he could get caught, which was why it was essential for her not to make any sound.

But she walked fast in the direction of the sound of the footsteps as they became more audible. She also made sure to keep her face hidden beneath the head shield of her hoodie.

She took a right turn in the alleyway which was a path filled with littered biscuit wrappers. Then she turned to the left. Afterward, she walked straight ahead into a path filled with stones.

Then she saw him on the other end of the straight path with a dead body draped over his shoulder. He was walking as fast as he could, the sole of his shoe slapping against the gravel.
Ebun stopped walking and estimated the distance between herself and the man.

When she saw that she might not catch up quickly or walk as fast on the gravel path, she brought out her revolver and aimed for the lower part of his body. Then she fired a bullet that pierced into his right calf. He fell to the ground with a loud groan. The dead body he was carrying slipped to the gravel ground with a crack.

Ebun began to move closer to him and as she took each step, her heart pounded fiercely. She was getting closer to her rapist — Gilbert. She was going to see him again after thirteen years, and now, she was going to be his doom. How could her heart not race with an indecipherable speed?

The rapist didn't stay on the ground for long, though. He stood up with the strength left in him, clamping his hand over the bleeding spot on his right leg and limping away from the path. But as he walked, he kept looking back, which slowed down his pace.

He was scared of Ebun and of the fact that she was very close behind him. She was a nightmare in itself with that pitch-black hoodie of hers and quick steps. His nightmare. Only that this wasn't Elm Street. It was Novosibirsk. When the fear gripped him and overtook the focus he was supposed to have on his journey ahead, he brought out a small knife from his jacket and pointed it in Ebun's direction with hopes that that would make her back off.

"Otoydi urodlivaya zhenshchina! Ili ya tebya udaryu," The criminal threatened in Russian.

Ebun laughed heartily. This fool seemed ignorant of the most basic rule of a horror movie: you shouldn't expect your doom to go away by just telling it to go away. It was a very brainless move. Ebun couldn't speak Russian, but she understood very well what he'd said. What was with everyone and calling her ugly whenever they saw the scar on her lip? She ignored the remark and thought of the weapon he was holding instead.

Hm. He wants a battle of knives. I see.

Ebun didn't like to use knives. It took a lot of willpower to stab someone to death, and it was even worse that stabbing a person once didn't always do the final job. But Ebun decided to play it fair. If he was using a knife, she'd used a knife too, and she'd also use the same size of knife he was using. A kind assassin she was, wasn't she?

Ebun ransacked her knapsack quickly and brought out a knife from her collection of weapons. Then she covered the distance between herself and the sallow-faced man and pinned him to the wall.

Then she looked into his eyes, studying his physical appearance for the first time since she'd been tailing him.

Then she realized that he wasn't Gilbert.

He wasn't one of the guys that raped her then. Her stomach dropped in disappointment. How could Sean have told her that this guy looked exactly like one of her rapists when the only thing the two men had in common was their sallow faces?

This guy's eye color was green, he was taller, and he had tattoos — physical qualities that were not present in Gilbert. Ebun didn't know what to make of the misconception. But she trusted Sean and knew that he'd made a mistake in the course of genuinely trying to help her.

She couldn't even blame Sean. She hadn't asked for more details on the rapist's looks. If she had, she'd have known.

Now, she had to kill this man anyway because he'd just raped and murdered a young girl whose bloodied body was lying on the gravel-filled ground. Her mission in Novosibirsk wasn't a complete waste after all.

As the man pointed his knife in Ebun's face, She focused on his lower regions instead. So she ducked below the level of his knife and went on to stab him on the right side of his stomach. He groaned aloud as his blood coated the edge of the blade and dripped over Ebun's hand. But of course, he didn't drop dead just from that single insertion of the knife. Ebun shook her head. If she'd used a gun, two bullets would have done a more immaculate job.

The man tried to make his move. He raised his knife to stab her shoulder, but she caught his arm midway and forcefully curved it inwardly so he could use his knife to stab himself in the other side of his stomach.

The move worked.

And there he was with two knives buried into both sides of his stomach. He fell to the ground, defeated. Ebun smiled. One thing Ebun loved about murder was its ability to expand one's creative prowess. Who would have known that the view of two knives wedged into one's stomach would look so beautiful?

The man still hadn't died, though.

Even better.

Ebun went down on one knee, her form towering over the rapist. She pulled the two knives out of his stomach in one go. Then she plunged them back to his belly simultaneously. She repeated the process. In and out. In and out. Until he finally gave up the ghost. His groaning died down to soft, frail whimpers and then silence.

By the fifth time she'd stabbed him, spatters of his blood filled her face in several tiny red dots, and her hands were bathed in red fluid all the way to her wrists. His clothes were soaked, and some of the shiny white stones on the ground were also coated in blood.

Ebun took a good look at the naked dead girl on the floor and shook her head. It was sad she was not alive to see how well she'd dealt with the girl's rapist. The girl would have felt very good to see him get treated like the low, feral animal that he was.

But Ebun rejoiced in the pleasure she felt from taking another life — the same way she had always felt in the countless times she'd murdered people.

***

When Ebun returned to Khovrino Hospital that evening, her joy dissipated. The disappointment she felt from seeing that the criminal was someone else entirely settled in again. She resented the falsehood more than she wished she would have.

Ebun had already concluded that Sean had made a mistake, and the misconception of the rapist's identity was partly her fault. It still didn't remove the heavy feeling of displeasure that troubled her mind.

Why did it have to be a mistake? It's been thirteen years in for stupid games like this to be occurring. There was no more time to waste. She didn't want similarities or replicas. She wanted the actual people. Suspense tricks like this only made the wait more agonizing for her.

She picked her phone from the desk and dialed Sean's number. On the second ring, he answered.

"Hey, baby."

"Hey," Ebun responded, feeling a little less disturbed than a second ago just by the sound of his voice, and in that casual yet loving way, he'd called her 'baby.'

"How did the operation go?"

"It went...well. But he wasn't the one." Her shoulders sagged in despair.

"I'm deeply sorry for the misinformation, babe. I'll provide a picture next time."

"It's okay. It's my fault too. I should have asked for more details. I got too excited about everything. To be honest, though, I'm in a weird place right now, and I don't know how long I can wait anymore. I wish I could get it over with as quickly as I can," Ebun sighed.

Before Ebun could fully understand what Sean had said in response to her frustrations, a loud sound from her second phone distracted her.

"Give me a second to answer this incoming phone call, babe," she informed Sean before dropping the handset.

Then she rushed towards the second phone to check the screen. It was a text message, and it was from an unknown number. Unknown numbers were a common thing for assassins — it was always the people with the most valuable and helpful information that loved to call with unknown numbers. Perhaps, this call would be a blessing in disguise.

Indeed, it was a blessing but not the kind she wanted or was happy with.

Ebun, it's me, Yemisi.

Ebun froze. Her sister from Nigeria had texted her with an unknown number. Ebun hadn't spoken to Yemisi or her family members from Nigeria for seven years. Yemisi had called her a couple of times over the years, but Ebun never for once answered her calls or responded to her text messages.

When Yemisi stopped calling, Ebun thought she'd finally given up. Now, she'd texted with an unknown number like the wise woman that she was, and Ebun answered easily, falling into the trap without even considering that the unknown number might have been her sister. This wasn't the first time Yemisi had called or texted her with an unknown number.

Come home, please. Yemisi texted.

Why? Ebun replied, rolling her eyes.

Because we miss you so much and are worried about what you've been up to. You are tempting me to come and visit you.

You are free to come. I've been busy with school, though. My final exams are approaching soon. You know, here in Russia, you have to be twenty-seven years old to qualify to be a dentist, and I'm just twenty-five, so I have to take several exams to hasten the process. Ebun replied, acting like she wasn't bothered by her sister's subtle threat.

How could she even act like she had no clue as to what Ebun had really been up to? Hadn't Mrs. Mariyah or those lame spies reported her already since all these years? Ebun wondered what game her sister was trying to play.

I'm not sure that stops you from saying hi to at least one of your family members. We've been students once, so we know how stressful it can get. Law was demanding for me while I studied the course in school. Law school was even worse, but I still found time to text mum and dad 'hi' at least once in two weeks. You've not said 'hi' to any of us for seven years.

I text Cassandra occasionally, though. Ebun lied, suddenly feeling bad that she had never even checked up on her favorite family member for once.

When I asked her about you, she said you didn't check on her. Yemisi argued.

Okay...see, the thing is, I don't want to stay in touch with a family that tries to control me all the time and preach to me day and night about the dangers of seeking vengeance.

But I haven't been doing that anytime I text you.

You've just been trying not to. So I don't block you or something, but I can still sense the itchiness even in your simple 'hey's and 'hi's.' By the way, I don't even text back, so that statement is incorrect.

Why are you being so difficult, though? Is it a crime that we miss you and would love to have you around? You matter to us more than some silly vengeance mission.

I'm not coming home.

Ebun remained stoic. All of that mushy balderdash was cock and bull story.

I caught another rapist. His name is Gaius. He was my daughter's boyfriend.

Ebun swallowed. This woman knew how to get to her. She knew what to say and what spot to hit. Ebun hated that Yemisi was succeeding in trying to make her vulnerable.

One of her rapists was her niece's ex-boyfriend. And this guy was the timid one among the six men who'd been reluctant to have sex with her on that day. But it didn't make Ebun hate him any less. He was still among them, and he'd ridiculed her.

Now, that same guy had been in a relationship with her sister's daughter. That was some juicy information that made Ebun want to ask all the necessary, multiple questions: Did Gifty know that she had been dating one of the guys that raped her aunt? If she did, did she date him on purpose? Did Gifty feel guilty, or she's as stupid as Mr. Saratov's wife? How did she even meet him? How did such a relationship work? Did he try to rape her too? How did her sister handle the whole situation?

Ebun wanted to ask all of those questions but decided not to. This could also be a gimmicky move to get her to come home.  Sean had made a mistake, but it was an honest one. Still, with Sean, she knew she had a better chance. But Ebun couldn't trust her sister, Yemisi. If she concurred to come home, she wouldn't be able to get her revenge — even if she got to meet Gaius. She wasn't ready to get disappointed again.

I'm not going to come home because of that because there's no point. You probably already have him in custody, so if I come home, I wouldn't be able to do anything. That was what you did when you caught two of the other rapists.

Do you know that if I planned to make you come home to control you or stop you from carrying out vengeance, I wouldn't be making it this obvious? You're an adult now, Ebun, and I can't stop you from doing what you want. I just wish you would come home. That's all. Yemisi was convincing Ebun with tactful words, and it was working.

But you have eyes monitoring me here in Russia, or you think I don't know? You are such a control freak. Ebun fired back, not ready to let her guard down.

Her comeback would make her sister defenseless for sure, and she would stay away.

But Ebun couldn't have been more wrong. Nobody was as wise as Yemisi. Not even Sean. The following text that popped on her screen proved Yemisi's ultimate power as a devious elder sister.

If you come home, you get the chance to do whatever you please with Gaius.

****
Glossary

"Otoydi urodlivaya zhenshchina! Ili ya tebya udaryu" - "Back off, ugly woman! Or I'll stab you."

By the way though, if you want the full story or a bigger picture of the relationship between Ebun's niece and Ebun's rapist, you can read The Turbulence, the first book in this series.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

Yours Truly,

The Dream Elixir.