The Nivenger (Retribution) – Episode 1

Follow the Nivenger Story By The First Book, Click The Link The Nivenger (A Political Action Thriller) – Episode 1,

CHAPTER 1

My name is Alex Rolland. When I was a toddler, I watched my parents get murdered by a man in a hood. I was then kidnapped and smuggled to the USSR, where I was made into someone else … into something else. Now I am back to Nigeria to avenge all those who have suffered, like me, at the hands of cruel, corrupt politicians. I am … The Nivenger!

 

PAST

Alex Rolland was only sixteen years of age, yet he had the body of a full grown wrestler with rippling biceps. His body was well built—forged in the dusty halls and gloomy rooms of the Institute. The Institute’s creed was simple: to rear one man armies, not from the Super Soldier Serum projects the Americans were pumping billions into, nor from the Enhanced Soldier project that the Brits were spending time and resources on. No. The Institute’s way was through hard work, toil, and sheer brute force.

It had been more than ten years under the tutelage of the Institution, and Alex was now the perfect fighting machine, ready to rip and rend flesh, with the necessary cunning to carry out the job.

Alex was crouched in the back of a small moving van. There were four other young boys with him, who were members of his group—the Alpha Pack. The Institute currently had about a hundred teenagers, of a narrow age range, undergoing training to become skilled assassins. These boys, and a few girls, were divided into different groups. The Alpha Pack was the name of the lead group, and the members were the most highly skilled and most powerful and resourceful among the entire students.

It was night, and the wintry air penetrated Alex’s joints in spite of his heavy winter clothing, woolen garb, feathered head gear, thick parkas, leather boots, reaching up to his shin, thick clothes beneath the outer layer of protective clothing, and the reassuring nudge of a small concealed Swiss Blade. The van smelled of engine fuel and made an annoying, incessant, and atrociously loud noise, yet Alex enjoyed the bumpy ride. He took a deep breath of the chilly air and breathe out through his mouth, the air exhaling as white smoke.

The night Alex Rolland had killed the wolves and gained entrance into the Institute was the last time Alex Rolland had smelled the air outside the walls of the Institute. He hadn’t as much as stepped foot outside until this day. Ten years he had been holed up in the Institute. Ten years he hadn’t seen the outside world. And even now, he was crouched in the van unable to see the outside. But even if there were windows in the back of the van, Alex knew what he would see: nothing. Absolutely nothing but desolation, ruin, and sadness. Because they were currently traversing the wintry wastelands of Siberia, en route to infiltrate a terrorist stronghold and assassinate its leader Al-Hassid Farooq Bin Laden, the infamous and terrible.

Alex closed his eyes for a moment as panic flooded his heart. Against his better judgment, he removed his thick gloves and rubbed his palm in the freezing cold. Right now they were quite warm, but he knew within a few seconds they would become rigid as a result of the cold. If he left them exposed for more than five minutes, he would begin to develop frostbite, and if he didn’t cover them for up to thirty minutes, his fingers would break off his hand like biscuits—he wouldn’t even feel any pain.

“You scared?” said one of the boys directly opposite him in the van. It was more of an accusation than a question. A test to see if Alex should still be the leader of the Alpha Pack; to see if he was really weak. If Alex had learned one thing in his stay in the Institute, it was never show weakness, regardless.

Alex kept his eyes closed. It was only a taunt. A show of strength demanded that he ignored the taunt. It demanded that he treat the taunt with the levity it required. Alex added a smile to his silence, and he could almost feel the fumes of anger emit from the one who had dared challenge him.

The truth was, Alex was petrified. Beyond that, he was mortified at the idea. Back at the Institute, Alex was the first person to have finished the first phase of his training. He was at least a couple of months ahead of all the other students because of his determination and dedication to avenge his parents. As such, he was the only one going for this mission. The mission was an exam. If he failed, he would most likely end up beheaded or, worse, a permanent prisoner of terrorists, torturing and all. If he succeeded, then he would begin on the next leg of his training.

“Alex Rolland,” called the driver of the vehicle. “We are almost there.” And at that, the van pulled off the main road and began a very bumpy and steep climb off road.

Alex Rolland opened his eyes to see his mates look at him with hardened expressions and envy—backstabbing envy. The Institute was structured in such a way that it obliterated virtues like compassion, forgiveness, and love. It promoted stiff-necked competition, betrayal, distrust, and fury. In more than ten years of these, Alex had managed to maintain his humanity—nobody knew this of course, because if they did they would think him weak.

The van came to a stop.

“Alex?” said Alpha Pack’s instructor, whom they knew simply as Vector.

Alex craned his neck to look through the metal mesh protector that separated them from the forward compartment. Vector looked at Alex with a softness that Alex didn’t know he was capable of. Vector was naturally cruel and dismissive. It was an arduous task to please the man, yet Alex had effortless done so. Maybe it had to do with the grace and class with which Alex fought and killed, which none of the other students had. Or maybe it was because of the situation under which he had been abducted—Alex was the only student who had been abducted at the crash site of his parents’ car.

“Yes, sir,” Alex said, putting his gloves back on. His hands were already rigid and bitingly cold.

“What’s your plan of getting past the guards?”

Alex shrugged. “Stealth?”

Vector shook his head. “This is unknown territory. Without knowing the base plan, you can’t effectively use stealth. You know this, Alex.”

Alex nodded. “I do, sir. But it’s my best option.”

“Why not walk through the main gates?”

Alex looked at the man as though he had spoken heresy. “Sir?”

Vector sighed and said, “Some days ago, we intercepted chatter about a group of terrorists that went to Moscow for a mission. It went bad. Some died; some survived. But the mission was a failure. The surviving terrorists are making it back to this camp in trickles, because there is a manhunt for them. You can gain entrance as one of these terrorist.”

Alex thought about this for a moment. Then he realized there was only one problem. “Wouldn’t they be able to tell I’m not one of the terrorist sent out?”

Vector said, “Maybe, maybe not. The base is pretty big, and people come and go all the time. If you have the code word, then you would be allowed in.”

Alex tried considering Vector’s proposition. However, he could not get past the question, why was Vector helping him?

One of the other four boys said, “Sir, is this allowed? Telling Alex how to accomplish his task? Isn’t that against the Institute’s rules?”

Vector ignored the accusation and said, “Look, Alex, it’s your best play, but you can go ahead with stealth if that works best for you. If you choose to go through the gate, the code word is May The Enemy Burn In Hell. You may proceed.”

Alex only nodded. He patted his right abdomen, where the Swiss Blade was secreted before he climbed out of the van. His boots crunched on semi solid snow. For as far as the eyes could see, in every direction, the world was white with snow and barren. It was bitter cold. Alex was already freezing, in spite of his clothing—they were proving to be ineffective.

Dasvidanya,” said Vector as the van turned and drove down the slope towards the road. Goodbye.

Alex stood with his hands folded underneath his armpits and watched as the van faded into the darkness. The clouds were thick overhead, and there was no moonlight or stars. It was a cold and dark night, and it was filled with terror.

The van had dropped Alex near the top of a small ridge. He walked the remaining few feet, slowly crouching to his knees as he came to the crest. He peered over it. A little ways past the foot of the hill a small settlement spread across the white surface. It blazed bright with firelight everywhere. It was surrounded with a tall, interlocking metal fence, which was patrolled by men in twos, hefting AK 47s and moving around with war dogs. Alex spotted several SAMs spread across the settlement, as well as RPGs and Machine Guns mounted on Humvees.

A dog barked at him, and the guards the dog was with turned to look up at him. Alex pushed away from the crest, falling on his back. He held his breath, his heart pounding, as he listened. The dog kept on barking for a few seconds before it fell quiet.

Alex swallowed hard and tried to gained control of his terror. This settlement didn’t look like a terrorist settlement. It looked like a goddamn army installment! It was either this was a secret army base or these terrorists were well funded and highly trained. In Alex’s mind, the threat matrix shot up several thresholds.

Alex stood to his feet, sucked in a deep breath, and banked the crest, headed straight for the main gates.

There were about seven, heavily armed men at the gate and all of them aimed their weapons at him as he descended the slope towards the gate.

Alex raised up his hands. He wanted to tell them not to shoot, but then he wondered what language the men spoke. Was it Russian? Or was it Arabic? A returnee would know the commonly spoken language; if Alex was going to impersonate a returnee, he better get the language right.

Alex kept on approaching the gate. When he was about twenty yards away, one of the men stepped forward and said, “Allah ‘Akbar…” Allah is great.

Alex relaxed a little. They spoke Arabic. Instead of replying, he spoke the code word, “May the Enemy Burn In Hell.” He said it with all the hatred and anger he could muster.

For a few seconds, the man in his path glanced at him with mild shock, which immediately melted into fury. Alex held his breath and began to calculate how he was going to kill all the seven men and make a run for it.

Then suddenly the man let go of his gun, slinging it behind him and said with a cheerful air, “Shaqiq! ‘Ahlaan bik!” Brother. Welcome.

Alex and the man hugged, while all over the place, the aims of the men fell and they continued their patrol.

“Ma ‘asmk, shaqiq?” asked the man. What is your name, brother.

Alex said, “Mohamed.” And he began walking into camp. He didn’t want the gate master too ask too many questions that would compromise his position.

He was almost nearly though when he heard behind him in English. “I can’t remember a Mohamed going on the mission…”

Alex came to a stop, even as he heard the guns beginning to aim at his head again. Straight ahead, men, women, and children went about their businesses. The camp was warm, what with the fires everywhere. Tents dotted the landscape, however far away in the center of the camp was a huge tent, which Alex assumed was where his target was. If he could get through this predicament…

Alex felt a hand on his shoulder and a gun muzzle poking into his spinal column. He made sure to keep his heartbeat steady and his breathing nonchalant.

“What nonsense is this?” Alex replied. “I was sent out with the rest! Is this how you treat your brothers who are willing to die for the cause?”

“Don’t be furious with me, brother,” said the gate master, his gun nudging deeper into Alex’s spinal column. “It is for precautions. I will have to take you to see our leader. He will know if you were sent or not.”

And then Alex felt it: panic.

The man nudged him forward towards the center of camp.

 

The Nivenger will return in the next update.

Beware, O ye corrupt leaders, for the Nivenger is coming for you!

 

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2 Comments

  • Bayo Moses says:

    Alex kept his humanity. That must have only been possible if he still loved and believed that in something or someone he hoped to return to… Wow interesting

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