Volume 1. The Crushed Destiny

FRANK MASHINA- THE CRUSHED DESTINY
VOLUME 1
THE
CRUSHED
DESTINY
FRANK MASHINA
Frank Mashina © 2023


COPYRIGHT © 2023 BY FRANK MASHINA
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. NO PART OF THIS BOOK MAYBE REPRODUCED IN ANY

FORM
OR BY ANY ELECTRONIC OR MECHANICAL MEANS, INCLUDING INFORMATION
STORAGE
AND RETRIEVAL SYSTEMS, WITHOUT PERMISSION IN WRITING FROM THE
PUBLISHER,
EXCEPT BY A REVIEWER WHO MAY QUOTE BRIEF PASSAGES IN A REVIEW.
FIRST EDITION
Mashina, Frank
The Crushed Destiny
Declaration
This book recounts the essence of my experience in imagination and in that sense is a true story.
However, it
Is not intended as literal account, and it is not to be taken as a portrayal of any living person. All
names of
Individuals, places, institutions and the inserted images are all fictio

Table of Contents
[CHAPTER 1] – UNSPEAKABLE NIGHT .................................................................................. 7
[CHAPTER 2] – THE TRUTH THAT I DIDN’T KNOW .......................................................... 39
[CHAPTER 3]- AWAITED DREAM .......................................................................................... 93
[ CHAPTER 4] - CHOICES ....................................................................................................... 134
[CHAPTER 5]- I’AM GOING TO MAKE IT ........................................................................... 157
[CHAPTER 6]- THE PROMISED DAYS ................................................................................. 177
[CHAPTER 7]- I WISH I KNEW .............................................................................................. 213
[CHAPTER 8]- THIS IS IT ........................................................................................................ 238
[CHAPTER 9] - THE LOST CITY ............................................................................................ 263
[CHAPTER 10]- CONSEQUENCES ......................................................................................... 276

Dedication
To all the resilient souls who fight against the darkness within and around them, To the ones who
dare to unravel secrets and confront their deepest fears. This book is dedicated to the unwavering
spirit of humanity. May your courage inspire others to stand tall in the face of adversity, and may
your strength remind us all that even in the crushing depths of destiny, there exists a spark, a
flicker of hope, guiding us toward the light.
In the echoes of your bravery, In the triumphs of your hearts, this tale finds its purpose and
meaning.
With deepest gratitude,
FRANK PETER MASHINA

BY FRANK MASHINA
65001, Upanga street, ilala
Dar es Salaam
Tanzania
+255767428383
frankmashina2000@gmail.com

[CHAPTER 1] – UNSPEAKABLE NIGHT
[camera focuses on news reporter standing outside the courthouse, with crowds of people and
media personnel in the background]
The courtroom buzzed with tension as the trial of Raymond Philemon Sapuka and Josephine
Salum Motoko unfolded at the ICC [ International. Helen Steven from MTV NEWS stood
outside the imposing ICC building, her voice laced with urgency, reporting live to the world.
"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Helen Steven from MTV NEWS,
broadcasting live. We are here live outside the ICC in Dane Country, where the trial of Raymond
Philemon Sapuka and Josephine Salum Motoko continues to captivate the world's attention. This
is undoubtedly the most significant legal showdown of the new millennium."
Cutting to footage of the courthouse's imposing facade, Helen's voice continued, "The accused
Raymond Philemon Sapuka and Josephine Salum Motoko stand accused of leading an
International Criminal Organization, orchestrating mass murders, drug dealing, human
trafficking, and being involved in a range of serious criminal activities."
Clips of supporters holding banners and signs filled the screen. Helen's enthusiasm was palpable
as she described the atmosphere, "The atmosphere here is electric, with supporters of the
defendants showing unwavering solidarity. They believe that Raymond and Josephine are heroes
in a battle against a system they see as corrupt."
Security personnel surrounded the courthouse, their vigilant presence evident. Helen's voice took
a serious tone, "Security remains tight, with authorities taking no chances. The stakes are
incredibly high in this trial, and emotions are running even higher."

Images of the legal teams entering the courthouse were shown, and Helen's tone turned
determined, "Inside that courthouse, legal heavyweights are clashing as the prosecution presents
its case against the accused. The world is watching as the innocence of their clients."
The camera focused on Helen holding up a microphone, her gaze unwavering, "We'll continue to
bring you live updates on this historic trial as it unfolds. Stay tuned for more coverage on this
truly unprecedented legal drama. Reporting live from Dane Country, I’m Helen Steven, from
MTV NEWS, and this is a moment in history."
Cutting to the inside of the courtroom, Judge's voice boomed, "All rise. We are gathered here
today to address the grave charges brought against Raymond Philemon and Josephine Salum.
Mr. Philemon, you have been accused by the United States of Dane for leading an International
criminal organization known as BMO and the murder of 287 people. Ms. Salum, you are also
charged with the same offenses. How do you both plead?"
Raymond Philemon, his voice heavy with emotion, stated, "Your Honor, I plead not guilty to all
charges."
Josephine Salum, her voice nervous yet resolute, echoed, "Your Honor, I also plead not guilty to
all charges."
The judge continued, "Very well. Let the record show that both defendants have entered not
guilty pleas. Mr. Philemon and Ms. Salum, you each have the right to legal representation. Do
you have attorneys present?"
Raymond's Lawyer stood, announcing, "Yes, your Honor, I am representing Mr. Philemon. My
name is David Abas."

Josephine’s lawyer, equally poised, stated, "Your Honor, I am representing Ms. Salum. My name
is Vivian Turner.
"The courtroom drama unfolded as the prosecution presented its case, with Agent Raynolds from
NIA taking the stand, detailing the extensive evidence against the defendants. The defense
attorneys cross-examined, questioning the validity of the evidence and attempting to challenge
the charges levied against their clients.
The tension in the courtroom was palpable as the trial continued, and the fate of Raymond
Philemon Sapuka and Josephine Salum Motoko hung in the balance, awaiting justice in this
unprecedented legal battle.
Raymond's Lawyer, his voice firm and assertive, pressed on, "Agent Raynolds, are you certain
that all the evidence you’ve collected directly implicates my client Mr. Philemon in these
crimes?"
Agent Raynolds, his confidence unwavering, replied, "Yes, Mr. Abas. We have substantial
evidence linking Mr. Philemon to the organization's leadership and the planning of these crimes."
Josephine’s lawyer, keen on defending his client, challenged, "Detective Raynolds, can you
provide concrete evidence that my client, Ms. Salum, was directly involved in these murders?"
Agent Raynolds calmly explained, "Ms. Turner, while the evidence against Ms. Salum is
circumstantial, it points to her significant involvement in BMO’s operations, which includes the
crimes in question."
The judge, addressing the court, added solemnly, "In addition to the charges previously
mentioned, the prosecution has also levied additional charges against Raymond Philemon and
Josephine Salum. These charges include gun possession, engagement in terroristic activities,

conspiracy towards Nance Williams' disappearance, involvement in drug dealing, mineral theft,
economic sabotage, and human trafficking."
Raymond’s lawyer promptly raised an objection, stating, "Your Honor, these additional charges
seem excessive and unrelated to the original accusations."
Josephine's Lawyer agreed, saying, "I concur with Mr. Abas, Your Honor. These new charges
appear to be an attempt to unfairly prejudice the jury."
The judge considered the objection carefully, addressing the counselors, "Understanding your
concerns, Counselors. The court will review these additional charges for relevance and validity.
We’ll proceed with the trial on the original charges, and a decision regarding the additional
charges will be made in due course."
He continued, his voice firm and decisive, "Before we adjourn for the day, it is important to note
that due to the gravity of the charges and the nature of the accusations against the defendants,
Raymond Philemon and Josephine Salum, they will remain in the custody of government
authorities until further notice. This decision is made to ensure the safety of all parties involved
and to prevent any interference with the ongoing legal proceedings. The court proceedings will
resume next week Tuesday, 14th April 2009, and both defendants will be held in government
custody during this time. Court is adjourned for today.
The trial of Raymond Philemon and Josephine Salum is nothing short of a global sensation,
marking it as one of the most significant cases of the new millennium. The accusations of the
leading an international criminal organization, orchestrating mass murders, and engaging in a
wide range of criminal activities has captured the attention of people all over the world. Media
outlets from every corner of the globe followed the case closely and live case follow up were

broadcasted, with headlines splashed across newspapers and constant updates on Television and
the internet.
In Dane country, where the trial is taking place, the population flocks to the ICC like never
before. The courthouse becomes a hub of anticipation and intrigue, with supporters of Raymond
and Josephine fervently hoping for their release. To them, the defendants are heroes, symbols of
defiance against the establishment. They believe that the accusations were part of a conspiracy,
and their unwavering support painted a stark contrast to the vehement opposition from the other
side of the coin.
Raymond Philemon’s life had taken an unexpected turn. He had started his journey as a medical
student, dreaming of a career dedicated to saving lives and healing the sick. However, as
circumstances would have it, he found himself drawn into a world far removed from his initial
aspirations. The unraveling of the trial and its intricate web of criminal activities had transformed
him from a medical student into a witness to one of the most complex and high-profile legal
battles in recent memory. His life had taken a path he could never have foreseen, and it was now
intricately intertwined with the unfolding drama of the courtroom.
Raymond's voice trembled with worry as he spoke, "Our fate seems to have betrayed us,
Josephine."
Josephine, her tone laced with equal concern, responded, "And it is leading us to the scary, ever
wished destiny. But we'll win this." Her determination cut through the uncertainty, a flicker of
hope in the face of impending darkness.
[Uneasy Music playing at the background]

[SIX YEARS BACK]
Raymond Philemon, famously known as Ray, a young man hailing from the Dane country. He
was deeply committed to his pursuit of a medical degree at DHMU [DREAM-MORE HEALTH
UNIVERSITY] in the Kito region. His family consisted of his mom, Veronica, who was often
his primary caregiver, and his father, Mr. Philemon Sapuka, who frequently embarked on
business trips. Despite the separation due to their work, they managed to maintain a seemingly
content and harmonious family.
On a particular Sunday morning, October 19th, 2003, Ray’s routine continued as usual. His mom
attended the first mass, leaving him alone at home. This had become a familiar pattern for Ray,
given his parents’ demanding schedules. Despite the busyness of both his mother and father, Ray
cherished the moments when they were together. Those times made him feel cherished, Valued,
and unique. However, on that particular Sunday, He sensed a subtle shift in the air. He couldn’t
help but ponder how the weekend would unfold without visiting any of his friends, a departure
from his unusual routine.
He contemplated, “should I give Nance a call? hmm, perhaps not now. is this the right time?
what if she perceives me as too stubborn?” these were the thoughts swirling in his mind.
eventually, he settled on going for a brief run, a daily ritual he practiced after his early morning
wake-up, sometimes even after his evening classes. running served as his refuge when life’s
challenges loomed, providing solace in the midst of turmoil. the uncertainty of his academic
future weighed heavily on his mind. medicine was his sole plan a, and he had never considered
an alternative. his mother’s daily reminder, “your future lies in your hands, but don’t fret too
much. your father and I have paved a bright path for you. it’s only a matter of time”, continually

occupied his thoughts. his fixation on the future had nearly made him forget he was alive in the
present.
At 6:00AM, He made a firm decision, “I won’t be going to church today.” After preparing
himself, he embarked on his short run. As he approached his destination, he checked his
smartphone and saw that he had covered 3.1 kilometers. Ray paused by a roadside stone to catch
his breath. This spot offered a breathtaking view of the city below, nestled within the
mountainous terrain. The natural beauty surrounding him featured lush greenery, Vibrant
flowers, and a tranquil pond mirroring the clear blue sky. The weather seemed to favor him
during his runs, with gentle, warm breeze carrying the fragrance of blooming flowers and the
soothing touch of sunlight. The picturesque environment and the pleasant climate had a magical
way of easing his burdens. While jogging through this idyllic haven, He couldn’t help but feel a
profound sense of peace. The combination of the scenic beauty and the endorphins released
during his run cleared his mind and lifted his spirits. This harmonious union of nature’s beauty,
favorable weather, and physical activity became his allies in conquering the stresses that beset
his life. In these moments, he discovered clarity and a much-needed respite from the challenges
that lay ahead, feeling rejuvenated and prepared to face an uncertain future.
[Hello world music playing, by Alan Walker ft Torine]
With headphones adorning his head, he selected a cherished song, ‘Hello World’ by Alan Walker
featuring Torine. The melodic notes encapsulated the very essence of his inner thoughts. Post his
revitalizing run, he’d make his way home, infused with a newfound vitality and a deepened sense
of purpose. His heart ached with a longing for Nance Willimas that was almost palpable. Day in
and day out, he yearned for her company, but the crippling grip of fear held him captive. The

courage to approach her eluded him, like a fleeting shadow. His emotions, once a source of
inspiration, ad turned shackles, chaining him to his own desires. In this self-imposed
imprisonment, he become a victim of his own feelings, watching opportunities slip through his
fingers, unable to break free from the bonds of his unspoken affection.
[Jealous Song by Labrinth playing at the background]
“Every time I saw Nance with James Jr., it was like a dagger through my heart”, he confided to a
close friend, the jealousy burning within him like a relentless flame. However, he steadfastly
refused to succumb to his emotions. With a resolute determination, he whispered to himself, “My
future is greater than chasing fleeting romances.” As the haunting strains of music played in the
background, he pushed his life forward. The lyrics echoed in his mind, reminding him of his
purpose and resilience. He knew he was destined for something bigger and brighter. Through all
the ups and downs, he channeled his jealousy into his medical studies. Every setback fueled his
determination to excel. His textbooks became his refuge, his notes his solace, he found comfort
in studies. He transformed that jealousy into a burning ambition, propelling him towards a future
where success was the only option.
His daily routine was meticulously structured, a reflection of the order he diligently sought in
life. Commencing with the laundering of his sweety workout attire, he ensured his surroundings
remained immaculate. Home cleanness mirrored the discipline he strived for. Once household
tasks were complete, he dedicated himself to crafting a nourishing breakfast to fuel his
endeavors. Recognizing the significance of a balanced diet in maintaining mental acuity and
physical vigor, he often indulged in a hearty bowl of oatmeal accompanied by a freshly brewed
cup of coffee. The subsequent hours were devoted to his personal studies, a relentless pursuit
driven by an unwavering passion of medicine. Textbooks, medical journals, and research papers

were his companions as he absorbed knowledge with unwavering determination. His pursuit of
medicine stemmed not solely from personal ambition but from an earnest desire to leave a
positive mark on those around him. He harbored the unshakable belief that through dedication
and relenting effort, he could one day contribute to the betterment of society, enhancing the
health and well-being of countless individuals. It was this profound sense of purpose that fueled
his tireless pursuit of excellence within the realm of medicine. He firmly believed that mastering
his studies and gaining expertise, he possessed the potential to usher in positive transformation
and make a profound impact on the world.
Amidst his intensive study sessions, the growling of his stomach served as a persistent reminder
that a well-deserved meal, a brief respite from his academic endeavors, was on the horizon. He
made his way to the kitchen, a man on the mission to craft something truly hearty and satisfying.
Today, the chosen masterpiece was a homemade pasta dish, a symphony of flavors in the
making. The aroma of garlic, herbs, and tomatoes simmering together filled the air as he toiled
over the stove. The final flourish came in the form of a generous sprinkle of grated Parmesan
cheese, a culinary touch that elevated the dish to perfection. He served himself a plateful of this
delectable meal and savored each bite. The flavors danced upon his taste buds, offering a
moment of culinary indulgence amidst the backdrop of his relentless academic pursuits.
Tradition dictated that a portion be set aside in the fridge for his mother, a custom he faithfully
upheld. Amidst his day’s asks, He paused to explore the vast expanse of the internet, stumbling
upon exciting news that would captivate his attention. It was a headline from the University’s
‘Digital Magazine Society, DMS’, and it bore the intriguing news that “Nance broke up with
James Jr.”. The revelation hung in the air, a development that held the potential to reshaped his

world. The breakup saga involving Nance Williams and James Jr. morphined into an overnight
internet sensation, seizing control of headlines and gathering such dramatic titles as “the story of
the year”, “second titanic” and “world’s tragedy”. The news spread like wildfire, captivating the
curiosity of students and the general populace alike. The reactions to fellow students to the news
were as diverse as they were intricate. Nance Williams and James Jr had long been subjects of
both admiration and resettlement, largely due to their perceived airs of pride and opulence. The
couple’s extravagant lifestyle had drawn many admires, but it had also stoked the flames of
jealousy and acrimony. Therefore, when the news of their split hit the public domain, emotions
surged to the surface, creating a maelstrom of feelings among onlookers. The news of Nance
Williams and James Jr. ‘s breakup had a profound impact on people, with various
interpretations swirling around like a storm. To many, it was seen as a tragic turn of events,
leaving them baffled as to why these two seemingly inseparable billionaire kids had parted ways.
Some believed it was a tragedy of epic proportions, a love story gone awry. They couldn’t
fathom why two individuals who had seemingly everything would choose to end their
relationship. The lavish gifts, extravagant vacations, and opulent lifestyle they had once
showcased together now stood as remnants of a love that had crumbled. However, doubts and
questions hung in the air. People speculated about the reasons behind the breakup. Some
wondered if it was due to the pressures of their privileged upbringing, the weight of expectations,
cheating history of James Jr., or perhaps the clash of two strong personalities. Others whispered
about third parties and scandals, weaving intricate theories to make sense of the sudden rift. In
the midst of all this uncertainty, the breakup of Nance Williams and James Jr. remained an
enigma, leaving people pondering the complexities of love, wealth, and the human heart.

Some students expressed sympathy for Nance who seemed to be the victim, understanding the
emotional toll a breakup could take. Others, however, couldn’t resist a sense of schadenfreude,
finding a certain satisfaction in seeing the seemingly unassailable couple flatter. Memes and
jokes began to circulate on social media as people found ways to laugh at their expense, perhaps
as a form of catharsis or an attempt to deflate the aura of pride surrounding the couple. In the
midst of the gossip and speculation, it was clear that Nance and James Jr.’s breakup story had
become more than just a personal matter. It had turned into a public spectacle, reflecting the
complexities of human emotions and the sometimes-fickle nature of public opinion.
Upon hearing the news, a whirlwind of emotions stirred within Raymond’s heart. From a
distance, he had silently admired Nance Williams for extended period, but the walls of his
shyness had always hindered him from approaching her. The reality undeniable- Nance Williams
hailed from a family of immense wealth, much like James Jr. Their relationship had been a
prominent fixture in the news, from their grandiose dating days to their headline-grabbing
breakup. It was abundantly clear to him that Nance moved within social circles that demanded a
specific standard of living, intelligence, and financial stability, dimensions he felt incapable of
fulfilling. His humble background and financial constrains cast a shadow of doubt over whether
he could ever be the type of man she might seek. As a result, Raymond kept his feelings hidden,
suffering silently while watching from the sidelines. He was imprisoned within his own feelings
and his heart was trapped within a vicious circle of my hurtful feelings that he didn’t know how
to untie himself. Nance’s beauty and grace always left him in awe, but he believed that someone
like him, without the means to match her lifestyle, would never stand a chance.

Brandon Franklin, a fellow classmate, and one of Ray’s closet friends, shared a unique chemistry
with him that extended beyond the confines of their academic lives. Their friendship was built on
a foundation of trust, forged through countless study sessions and shared moments of laughter. In
the labyrinth of university life, they were not just classmates but also tablemates, often found in
conversation about life’s challenges and aspirations. This close bond had led to Brandon
becoming one of the few individual’s privies to the emotional turmoil that Raymond Philemon
had been grappling with, particularly when it came to matters of the heart. One day, they strolled
along Kito Beach, Brandon, always the supportive confidant, was about to impart some wisdom
that could potentially reshape Ray’s perspective on his romantic pursuits.
Ray: (Sighs) “Brandon, you know how I’ve been feeling about Nance and this whole situation.”
Brandon Franklin: “I know, Ray. I’ve seen the emotional turmoil you’ve been going through.”
Ray: “It’s just so hard to approach her, especially considering her background and everything,
plus the fact I can’t beg her to love me.”
Brandon Franklin: (Nods) “I get that, man. But look, we’re walking by Kito Beach, and it’s a
beautiful day. How about we take a seat and talk this through?”.
Ray: “Alright, Brandon. I could use some advice.”
Brandon Franklin: “Here’s the thing, Ray. Nance and James Jr. have a strong chemistry to each
other, but relationships sometimes can be complicated. What you need to do is understand her
heart, figure out what she’s missing or craving that James Jr. might not providing. Every woman
is single if the right man approaches her.”
Ray: “That makes sense, but how do I go about that?”
Brandon Franklin: “Start by getting to know her better, find out what’s passionate about, what
her interests are. Show genuine interest in her as a person, not just someone who was dating

James Jr. If you can provide her with something he can’t, whether it’s shared hobbies, or simply
being there for her, it might just make all the difference. Remember, don’t act too thirsty.”
Ray: “Thanks, Brandon. I appreciate your advice. It’s worth a shot.”
Brandon Franklin: “You got this, Ray. Just be yourself and be there for her. Who knows what the
future holds?”
Despite Brandon’s support, his heart kept being sick over Nance, He constantly grappled with
self-doubt and fear, unable to gather the courage and even to say a simple “Hi” to Nance
Williams. His shyness, particularly around girls, seemed insurmountable. The truth was, He had
never tasted Romantic love before, making the thought of confessing his feelings to someone as
remarkable as Nance utterly daunting. Yet, deep inside, He harbored an unquenchable thirst for
that elusive connection, the kind of love that poets and dreamers wrote about. Nevertheless, deep
withing, He nurtured a longing for that inexplicable connection. It was his wish that for some
days to come he will be in deep love with her, in a very special way that no one could ever take
her away from him.
Mrs. Philemon, ever- wise and empathetic, could discern the inner turmoil that consumed her
son. In her maternal wisdom, she offered solace wrapped in the warmth of unconditional love.
“The heart desires often defy beyond societal expectations. Follow your heart, and you’ll find
what truly matters, Raymond”, she gently reassured him.
Raymond’s voice trembled with Uncertainty, “Should I trust my heart?”
With a gentle smile, she replied, “Yes, my dear. Follow it and see where it takes you”.
“But what if it takes me to a girl who doesn’t want me?” he questioned, his vulnerability laid
bare.
With empathic understanding, she inquired, “Is this all about Nance Williams?”

Raymond nodded, “Yes mom. I’ve tried to decipher my heart’s yearnings, but my courage
falters, I can’t even find the words to greet the one my heart longs for. Am I losing my mind over
love?”
Mrs. Philemon’s eyes softened with maternal affection, “You’re fortunate, my lucky boy. At
least you can feel love for someone. Some people go through life without ever experiencing such
emotions, and that’s a far greater fear.”
Raymod Sighed, “I fear that if she senses how desperately I want her, she might raise her walls
even higher, and I’ll never reach her.”
A glint of maternal wisdom sparkled in her eyes, “Would you like me to teach you how to win
her heart, my son?”
Raymond’s eyes widened in admiration, “You’re a genius, Mom, and you always know what I
need.”
She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “You’re my only child, my only son. Instead of
forcing your heart upon her, make her see you”
Raymond pondered her words, “But How?”
With a smiling face, she replied, “Just be a good boy who performs good in class, act nice, smile,
become confident. Don’t show her that you are after her, I meant don’t act too thirsty.”
Raymond Philemon had always revered his mother’s counsel, valuing it above all else. Her
wisdom had cast a profound influence over the course of his life, offering invaluable guidance
through the intricacies of matters of the heart and the twists and turns of life’s challenges. Her
words were akin to a compass, reliably guiding him through various circumstances. Even his
father, Mr. Philemon, though often engrossed in his insights, providing a different perspective
that harmonized with the wisdom shared by his wife.

As Raymond contemplated the prospect of reaching out to Nance, a mixture of fear and
hesitation enveloped him. The idea of taking that crucial step was undeniably daunting, yet he
drew strength from the advice of his parents, which had prepared him for this very moment. With
their words of encouragement echoing in his mind, he mustered the courage to send that pivotal
WhatsApp message- “Hello Nance.” The seconds that followed stretched into an agonizing
eternity as he anxiously awaited her response. It was a seemingly small but undeniably
monumental step, one that held the potential to alter the trajectory of his life. His heart raced, but
optimism coursed through his veins, filling him with hope and anticipation. Yet, as he powered
off his phone, a wave of agitation washed over him, his hands trembling with the gravity of what
he had just done. His breathing quickened as he grappled with the rising tension within.
Rejection was never easy, especially when it came from someone you had desperately sought to
connect with. After a few agonizing minutes, he mustered the courage to switch on his phone.
This time, he navigated directly to her WhatsApp inbox. The message was read, but there was no
reply. Doubts began to gnaw at him, and he questioned the wisdom of his decision to reach out.
His Sunday spiraled into a disheartening low, and the fear that he had revealed too much of his
desires and obsessions weighed heavily on his mind. It was a such disheartening day that he even
went to bed without eating dinner, a departure from his unusual routine.
The next morning, he resolved to test his culinary skills, the sizzle of bacon in the pan and the
rich scent of freshly brewed coffee filling his kitchen. He savored every bite of his meal, the
combination of crispy bacon and invigorating coffee serving as the perfect catalyst for the day
ahead. Thoughts of his mother lingered as he contemplated her continued rest, mindful of his
father’s absence due to his ongoing business trip. The uncharacteristic hush in their household

served as a poignant reminder of his father’s absence. However, an unspoken change hung in the
air that morning. When he informed his mother of his plan to head to the University, she
surprised him by declaring her intention to skip work. With a gentle smile and a reassuring
embrace, he departed for the university, sensing an unidentifiable shift in the morning’s
atmosphere.
Raymond left home as usual, bidding farewell to his mother, Veronica, who had decided to stay
home instead of going to work. Her absence from work, while seemingly minor, had subtly
altered the morning routine.
As he stepped out of the door, a feeling that something was amiss lingered in his mind, making
him acutely aware that the day held an unspoken difference. He stepped outside and walked a
short distance, catching a DALADALA that transported him to the station. From there, he
boarded a KIBAJAJI, a mode of transport that swiftly carried him to his school. Glancing at his
watch, he noted that it was 0613 AM, still early in the morning. With determination, he retrieved
his books and began delving into the chapters of the upcoming lectures.
Raymond had devised a plan to win Nance's heart - to be a polite and well-performing student,
dressed impeccably and exuding a pleasant scent. He was well aware of her distaste for rough,
lazy, and poorly-presented boys. The day unfolded smoothly, and during the afternoon break, he
spotted Nance. Not wanting his fears to hinder him, he gathered the courage to approach her and
confidently uttered, "Hi, Nance?"
She responded with a warm smile, "Hello, Ray."

Raymond, still surprised by her lack of response to his WhatsApp message the previous day,
inquired, “Why didn't you reply to my WhatsApp text yesterday?”
She explained, “I receive a lot of messages, many of them similar to yours. You didn't specify
who you were.”
Inwardly amazed, he realized that she hadn't even saved his number despite their class
representative’s repeated requests for everyone's contact information. He mumbled, “That's right.
Those are my digits. Feel free to contact me if you need to.”
He gathered his courage to ask, “Would you mind if I ask you something?”
She appeared surprised and slightly embarrassed, replying, “If you're planning to ruin my day,
that's not happening.”
He quickly clarified, “No, I was wondering if we could have a ‘study session’ together.
Still looking taken aback, she responded, “I'll think about it. Bye, Ray.”
Raymond bid her farewell, saying, “Goodbye, Nance.”
Raymond’s day concluded on a high note, marked by the longest conversation he had ever had
with a girl, particularly with Nance. Returning home, he was filled with an indescribable
happiness, a feeling he couldn't easily share with anyone, but it was undeniably the best time he
had ever experienced. His mother, perceptive as always, noticed his mood.
Nance Williams had genuinely loved James Jr, but he had taken advantage of her affections.
James Jr was a notorious playboy who had embraced a hedonistic lifestyle, exploiting his
family's wealth to indulge in fleeting romances, leaving a trail of broken hearts in his wake. He
thrived on the adoration he received from numerous admirers, living a life of extravagance
characterized by lavish parties, extravagant gifts, and a perpetual quest for novelty.

Despite the heartbreak caused by their breakup, Nance Williams carried herself with remarkable
grace and dignity, unwavering in her commitment to her principles. From a distance, she quietly
observed James Jr.’s playboy lifestyle, noting his constant transition from one fling to another.
As time passed, she couldn't help but discern the emptiness that pervaded his existence and the
superficiality of his relationships.
The news from the 'Digital Magazine Society (DMS)' describing her as the victim following her
breakup with her ex-boyfriend deeply upset her. Determined to prove her strength and resilience
to the world, she affirmed to herself, “I must show the world that I am not weak and won't be
taken for granted.” Nance's feelings of resentment toward James Jr. had taken root long ago
when she discovered his infidelity. From that moment forward, she resolved to stand up and fight
against him.
“I will show him that I am nothing less than when we were together,” she affirmed to herself.
Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, grappling with various scenarios and potential solutions,
yet nothing seemed to provide clarity. Then, a recollection surfaced – Ray had encouraged her to
reach out if she ever felt the need. She reached for her phone and opened WhatsApp, scrolling
through a barrage of messages that had flooded in since her breakup with James Jr.
Her attention focused on my WhatsApp profile, where a picture of Ray’s family caught her eye.
It was not merely for impressing her; it was a photo filled with genuine admiration for his family.
But each time she gazed at it; she felt a sense of entrapment. In that frozen image, she saw a
happy, smiling family unit. Unbeknownst to her heart at that moment, she found herself in a
delicate balancing act, torn between her feelings for Raymond and the uncertainty surrounding

his emotions toward her. As she ventured into the inbox section, she discovered Ray’s message
from yesterday, a simple "hello Nance?" A fleeting smile crossed her face.
“What should I reply him?”, asked herself.
“Hello Raymond. You good handsome?”, she texted back. Then, she kept replying other
people’s messages.
When he got home, he found his mom home.
With a smile in his face, he greeted, “Good evening my world”
“Good evening my handsome boy”, she replied.
With a hesitant gesture, she began, “Today, you came back from school earlier.”
The home was already spotless, so he made his way directly to his room to complete the school
assignments assigned for the day. After finishing his routine tasks, he opened WhatsApp to find
Nance Williams still online. She initiated a video call, and they engaged in a conversation that
lasted for around half an hour. They made a conversation, and with each passing moment, their
connection grew stronger. She shared her deep feelings for James Jr, how she had given him her
all, only for him to use and betray her, leaving her in a difficult situation. Ray offered words of
comfort and solace.
Then, she posed a question, “Have you ever been in love?”
He responded, “I wish I had experienced love, but my mom keeps saying those emotions are
meant for adults and that they might jeopardize your future if you explore them too early.”
She laughed at him, then posed a question “So, do you rely on your parents for everything, even
those concerning you heart?”
Gently, he replied, “Not for all decisions, but they had experienced what I’ am experiencing at
this moment, so it worthy taking their advice”

Appreciatingly, she said “Wisdom with aging, I understand”
Nodding his head, “Yeah”, he replied.
Curious, she inquired, “Would you mind if I make a video call?”
“No, I'd be so happy for that,” I replied eagerly.
With a pleasant tone, she said, "Goodbye, Raymond. I want to work on the assignment that was
due this morning.”
Playfully, I responded with a laughing smile, “I already finished it. Would you like to see it?”
“Yes, why not?” she agreed.
I promptly sent her the PDF of my assignment. Afterward, I turned off my phone's Wi-Fi and
delved into studying the material for the upcoming chapters. The room was filled with silence
until my mother finally broke it.
“Don't you want to cook dinner with me tonight, son?” she called out.
“I'm coming, darling,” came the quick reply as the He rushed to the kitchen. Dinner preparation
ensued, and the meal was set in the dining room, which had been prepared by Veronica, Ray’s
mother. Seated at the table, they began eating while the television played in the background,
featuring a program on mountain hiking, a channel that his parents had a particular fondness for.
As the clock inched toward 7:55 PM, they switched the channel to MTV in anticipation of the
news segment, a nightly ritual in their household. Their parents had always emphasized the
importance of staying informed about global events through television. All seemed ordinary until
a sudden shift occurred when the news anchor declared, “Today October 20th, 2003. We are
broadcasting that a Live multiple gunshots reported, and fifteen people presumed shot and killed
at the Leto Gold mining site. Police officers are currently attempting to breach the area and
provide rescue to the injured civilians…”

On the day preceding October 20th, 2003, Philemon Sapuka, a man deeply involved in the
intricate world of business, checked his BMO business weekly schedule on his laptop. To his
surprise, he found that he was scheduled to carry out a gold exchange business, an ordinary affair
in his line of work. However, the intrigue arose when he received a cryptic message notification
instructing him to bring a specific briefcase along for the exchange. A sense of unease settled
over Philemon as he sensed that something was unusual about this particular transaction. Despite
his instincts urging caution, he felt compelled to comply with the mysterious request. With a
mixture of curiosity and wariness, he meticulously prepared for the business trip, making sure he
had everything he needed for the exchange.
Feeling a responsibility to his family, Philemon informed them about the upcoming business trip,
not wanting to leave them in the dark about his sudden departure. Little did he know, this
decision would unknowingly set off a chain of events that would alter the course of their lives
forever. Philemon Sapuka embarked on his journey from Kito to the neighboring Leto region,
where the mysterious business trip was stated to take place. Upon arrival, he chose
accommodation at one of the region’s finest establishments, the DH [ DREAMER’S HOTEL],
an opulent oasis catering to guests from various nations. These international hotels, renowned for
their high quality, boasted maximum security and impeccable treatment for their esteemed
clientele. Unbeknownst to most, these hotels were discreetly operated under the umbrella of
BMO, adding an air of secrecy to their luxurious ambiance. Upon settling into his allocated
room, Philemon decided to refresh himself after the journey. He indulged in a luxurious shower,
allowing the warm water to wash away the weariness of travel. Afterwards, he retrieved his
BMO business laptop, hoping to find a response regarding the enigmatic instructions he had

received. However, despite his anticipation, the requested confirmation from BMO headquarters
had yet to arrive, leaving him in a state of increasingly uncertainty.
Philemon’s suspicion deepened s the minutes ticked by without the expected confirmation from
BMO. It was highly unusual, given the swift and precise nature of their operations. Feeling a
gnawing sense of apprehension, he decided to take matters into his own hands. With a steady
hand, he dialed a secured number known only to a select few. His voice was laced with concern
as he inquired whether the assigned business he was about to undertake had indeed been issued
by BMO. The response on the other hand of the line was a resounding ‘no’. It was a chilling
revelation someone had manipulated the system, orchestrating a false business schedule without
BMO’s knowledge or consent.
Despite the revelation, he was told to proceed with caution. Backup would be dispatched to his
location, emphasizing the urgency of the situation. BMO was determined to uncover the
perpetrator behind this audacious breach. Questions hung in the air, thick with intrigue. Was it a
rival organization attempting to sabotage BMO? Could it be a generation error within their own
system? Or perhaps, someone with a sinister agenda aimed to eliminate Philemon from the game
altogether. The mystery deepened, casting a shadow of uncertainty over the entire situation.
Philemon’s hands trembled slightly as he decoded the encrypted message, revealing its cryptic
contents. “Gs@LGM,M07015PM,2MAX.BRFCS” translated to a meeting regarding gold
business at the Leto Gold Mines on Monday at 0715PM. The message emphasized that only two
individuals were permitted to attend, with Philemon Sapuka being one of them. The instructions
to bring the briefcase added another layer of intrigue.
As he forwarded the message to his superiors, doubt gnawed at Philemon’s mind like persistent
shadow. The unusual circumstances and the clandestine nature of the operation left him

questioning the legitimacy of the mission. Why the secrecy? Why the limited number of
attendees? And what significance did the briefcase hold in this enigmatic exchange? These
questions swirled in his thoughts, creating a sense of unease that settled deep within him.
In response to his apprehension, Philemon took meticulous precautions. He prepared a special
suit, carefully selected to offer both flexibility and protection. His briefcase, usually containing
essential classified documents, was now fitted with additional compartments for secure storage.
Underneath his clothing, he wore a chest bulletproof vest, a shield against any potential threats.
His hand instinctively rested on the grip of the pistol gun holstered at his side, a stark reminder
of the dangerous that might await him. This outfit made him look younger just like the old days.
Despite his doubts, Philemon’s training kicked in, urging him to be prepared for the unknown.
AS he readied himself for the mission, a mixture of caution and determination etched onto his
face, he couldn’t shake off the feeling that he was stepping into a situation far more complex and
perilous than it appeared.
At the appointed hour, when the hands of the clock pointed precisely to 0700PM, Philemon,
accompanied by his trusted friend and close business associate, Joshua Shoko, made his way to
the designated meeting site at the Leto Gold mines. The air crackled with a palpable tension, the
darkness of the night only enhancing the mystery that shrouded the encounter.
Philemon’s footsteps echoed in the quite of the mines, each sound reverberating against the
walls, amplifying the sense of anticipation. With every step, his senses heightened, his eyes
darting to every corner, every shadow, vigilant for any signs of danger or unexpected presence.
Beside him, Joshua mirrored his caution, his eyes scanning the surroundings as they moved
forward. Both men knew the gravity of the situation, the cryptic message lingering in their
thoughts like an unspoken riddle waiting to be unraveled.

The soft glow of a distant lamp illuminated the silhouette of a figure, standing near the mine
entrance. As they approached, the figure came into focus, revealing a woman whose face was
hidden in the shadows adding to the air of secrecy that enveloped the meeting site. With a nod
exchange between Philemon and Joshua, they continued, their movements towards the isolated
house, deliberate and calculated. Whatever lay ahead, they were prepared, their senses sharp, and
their minds attuned to the enigmatic nature of the mission. As they approached the figure, the
night seemed to hold its breath, anticipating the revelation that was about to unfold.
In a stunned disbelief, Philemon’s eyes widened as he realized that Madeline, Nance’s mother,
was the one who had scheduled the meeting.
“H-Hello, Madeline, “He stammered, his surprise evident.
Madeline, her laughter chillingly devoid of remorse, approached Philemon. “Long time since the
last time I saw you,” she said, her voice laced with malice.
With a swift motion, she pulled a gun from her bag and shot Joshua Shoko multiple times in the
chest. He crumpled to the ground, lifeless, in an instant.
Philemon, his expression a mix of desperation and fury, demanded, “What have you done,
Madeline? You don’t know what you’re dealing with. I thought you wanted only two people.
Why did you kill him?”
Madeline, still laughing, replied with a sinister grin, “I’ve just changed my mind…You thought
your bulletproof vest would help you. Damn.”
Philemon, struck with a sudden revelation, remembered that his wife, Veronica was the one who
had ordered the bulletproof vest. A sharp pang of betrayal pierced his heart, leaving him
desperate and broken.
“She betrayed me,” he uttered, his voice laden with heartbreak and disbelief.

Madeline, her eyes filled with annoyance yet a sinister smile playing on her lips, retorted, “I
thought you were the smartest in the room.”
His fury boiling, Philemon demanded, “What do you want?” His eyes darted around, realizing he
was surrounded from all angles.
With calculated caution, Madeline approached him fearlessly, disarming him and dropped his
gun. Philemon found himself powerless as he noticed the trap closing in on him.
She came close to his face, as if about to kiss him, but instead, she swiftly whispered into his ear,
“I want the list of the seven men, plus your briefcase.”
Amazement flickered in his eyes. “What seven men? I don’t know what you’re talking about,”
he replied, his confusion evident.
Madeline chuckled, a sinister smile on her lips, as she received Philemon’s response. With a
subtle nod, she signaled for the removal of Joshua Soko’s body, which was unceremoniously
tossed into a nearby house.
Confidently, though her lips trembled with anger, Madeine revealed a painful truth. “One night
in the 1980, something terrible happened to me. Seven men brutally assaulted me. I became
pregnant and bore Nance. She never knew her real father, neither did I.” Tears welled up in her
eyes as she continued, her voice quivering with a mixture of anger and sorrow. “Only Veronica
was there for me. She helped me track down those seven men, and we discovered they were
working for the BMO, your organization.”
Philemon, trembling with fear, witnessed his friend’s body being disposed of, haunted by
Madeline’s words. He managed to stammer, “Just give me time, I will find those names, I
promise, I …” Furiously, Madeline interrupted him, her voice rising to a shout. “Shut up!
Promise? No, that’s not going to happen. Veronica offered $100 Million dollars for your

execution to the Black Cats, TJO, for her own reasons. Don’t take it personally. I was just
begging a favor as a friend before I kill you. I need you to hand me the briefcase and the list of
the seven men.”
Philemon, struck by the news of betrayal from his beloved wife, cried out, “Why does she want
me dead?”
Amused by Philemon’s ignorance, Madeline laughed and replied, “You have a lot of money, but
the family can’t spend it in a more luxurious way. Your son has grown up and can inherit your
fortune. What else? Why wouldn’t she want to take over your position at the BMO?”
In the moment of sheer terror, Madeline raised her pistol towards Philemon’s head, her finger
inching towards the trigger, prepared to end his life. Accepting his fate, Philemon closed his
eyes, steeling himself for the final blow.
“Bye Philemon,” she taunted, preparing to pull the trigger.
But just as she was about to fire, the night was shattered by unexpected chaos. Multiple gunshots
echoed through the air, flashes of light and the sharp sounds of gunfire decorating the entire area.
Madeline’s shot went astray, hitting Philemon in the chest instead. He collapsed to the ground.
Writhing in pain, his mind torn between the agony in his chest and the urgent need to secure his
life and the precious briefcase. Thinking Philemon was dead, Madeline allowed herself a
moment of assurance. However, Philemon, fueled by adrenaline and desperation, crawled across
the ground and grabbed a gun from one of the deceased bodies nearby. In that moment, his
survival instincts kicked in; he was the only one who could save his own life.
Seizing the opportunity, Madeline fled from the crime scene, leaving behind the chaos she had
unleashed. Meanwhile, the area was soon swarming with MTV and the police, the sounds of
sirens growing louder, as they closed in on the scene of the deadly confrontation.

In an instant, the mother's demeanor transformed into one of terror. She lost her appetite and
came close to experiencing a heart attack due to the shock brought on by the news.
‘You can't serve the whole world, no matter how hard you try. You shouldn't be frightened by
every piece of bad news,” came his attempt at reassurance.
But her response was a tearful and impatient one: “Your... your father... my... my love.”
Surprised and concerned, he asked, “What about my father?”
Her voice quivered as she replied, “Your father might be among the victims.”
Innocently, he questioned, “But how? He said he was going on a business trip, didn't he?”
At that moment, Raymond remained blissfully unaware of the unfolding events outside. His
efforts to calm her seemed futile as her anxiety and nervousness spiraled out of control. He did
his best to comfort her mother, and after some time, she regained her composure.
He persisted with his inquiries, asking, “Did Dad go to the Leto mining site on his last business
trip?”.
His mother, still panicked and unable to provide a clear response, seemed to be on high alert.
“It's happening. We have to,” she declared, the urgency in her voice evident.
Worry and frustration etched across Ray’s face, He implored, “What's happening, Mom? Where
do we have to go?”
With a sense of urgency, she responded, “Clear the dining room, then get changed.”
Rising from her chair, she swiftly left the dining room and hurried to her room. There, she
retrieved some money from Dad's safe locker and a car key. Then came the announcement that
left me shocked and frustrated: “Sorry to tell you, son, but we are going to Leto now.”

He had no other option but to comply with her command. He entered his room and quickly
changed out of his sleeping clothes. Reluctantly, he followed her, offering her an escort. The sky
outside was darkening as evening approached.
In an attempt to understand the urgency, he asked, “Mom, why shouldn't we go tomorrow?”
The exchange continued in tense silence. “No! That would be a mistake,” His mother insisted.
He probed further, his curiosity overpowering his apprehension. “Mistake! But how?”
She responded cryptically, “You are asking a lot of questions, son. You will meet their answers
so soon. I promise.”
Raymond knew there was a significant secret his mother was concealing from him. Throughout
his life, she had displayed unwavering strength and wisdom. She had a way of gently explaining
things she knew he could comprehend while safeguarding those she believed he wasn't ready to
understand. Time, in her view, would unveil the truth, and until then, she shielded him with her
silence.
[ Eerie Dreams by Kelvin MacLeod]
The atmosphere inside the car grew heavy as tension lingered, and they exchanged anxious
glances. In the distance, the faint sound of sirens and the sporadic flicker of police car lights
heightened their unease. His mother clutched the steering wheel tightly, trying to maintain her
composure. They veered off the main road onto a path leading to the Leto Mining sites. The
surrounding darkness cast elongated shadows, lending an air of mystery and foreboding to
everything. It was a moment where fear and confusion coalesced, enveloping them.

Arriving at Leto in the dead of night, the surroundings were eerie and shrouded in darkness. The
moonless midnight lent a haunting ambiance to the desolate landscape, where an uneven road
ventured into obscurity. Their fear was palpable, and his mother could clearly see his
apprehension.
Reassuringly, she said, “We will be okay, son,” and guided his arm to rest on her shoulder,
providing some comfort. The road ahead seemed terrifying, with owls' mournful cries echoing
through the nearby forests. An unsettling silence enveloped the area, interrupted only by the faint
rustling of unseen creatures in the surrounding trees. The uneven path ahead appeared like a
malevolent labyrinth, twisting and turning as if challenging anyone to venture deeper. As they
neared a long-forgotten mining area, the distant sound of multiple gunshots shattered the
stillness, sending shivers down their spines. Each shot reverberated through the night, delivering
an ominous message of danger lurking just beyond the reach of their headlights. They were both
overcome with fear, his face a mosaic of sweat and tears, despite the chilly midnight air. With a
mother's reassuring words, they embarked on a journey into the unknown. Her voice carried a
veneer of courage, yet deep down, the reality was undeniable; both of them were gripped by fear.
The path that lay ahead resembled a perilous dance with uncertainty. The desolate road they
traversed seemed forsaken, and the haunting echoes of violence reverberated through the air,
casting a sinister aura of suspense and dread over them.
Their destination brought them to a dilapidated, seemingly abandoned house. The moonless night
and eerie silence only heightened the tension. They stepped out of their slightly worn Land
Cruiser, their senses heightened, and an undercurrent of trepidation ran through their every
move. The house stood there like a forgotten relic, waiting to reveal its secrets in the darkness.

In the stillness of the night, his mother's voice broke the silence, pointing out that they had
reached their intended destination. They proceeded with caution, exiting their somewhat battered
Land Cruiser. Uncertainty hung in the air like an invisible shroud, enveloping them as they
approached the house, its decaying structure an unsettling sight. His mother's words hinted at her
familiarity with this place, mentioning that she had visited Leto on two prior occasions, albeit
long ago. However, a sense of doubt seemed to linger, as if she wasn't entirely certain whether
they had indeed arrived at the right location.
Raymond, overwhelmed by the grim sight before him, began to vomit, the horror of the scene
etching itself into his memory. Tears streamed down his face as the overwhelming smell of death
permeated the area. Veronica, burdened by the knowledge of what had transpired here, could do
nothing but lament the tragic consequences of her actions. She felt the weight of responsibility
for the lifeless bodies they passed, haunted by the thought that if she hadn’t ordered her
husband’s execution, none of this would have occurred. She looked at her son, his tender heart
evident in his eyes. Her own heart ached with a deep pain as she halted the car, torn between
speaking her mind and the potential consequences of her words. Ultimately, she chose silence.
Inside, a storm of doubt raged within her. Was she a good or bad person? After a few moments
of contemplation, she convinced herself that every action had been driven by a purpose. Tears
streamed down her face as she gazed at her son and uttered the words, “Your mama is not the
bad person, Raymond.”
Raymond was taken aback, his voice quivering she responded, “I’ve always known you’re the
best mom I could have.” Tears and hiccups intermingled as he continued, “Will Dad be safe?”
She felt a sharp pang in her heart and assured him, “Yes, he’s going to be fine, darling.”

His voice trembled, “But what if he’s not?”
“Let’s not think like that, baby. You know I love you, Raymond. Right?”
Nodding through his tears, He whispered, “That’s right, Mom.”
“When all of this is over, I’m going to disappear for a while, son. To cut some loose ends. It’ll be
better for all of us,” She confessed.
Raymond cried even more helplessly, asking, “What loose ends? how will I survive this without
you, Mom?”
She made unwavering eye contact, drew closer to her son, and wrapped him in a comforting hug.
“The less you know, the better. You are the bravest person in the world, you will pass through
this, my son,” she whispered.
Upon entering the house, it became evident that electricity was available, even though the lights
remained off. In the dimness, Veronica took it upon herself to illuminate the surroundings,
flipping the light switches to reveal the interior. The once-hidden details of the house began to
emerge from the shadows, shedding light on the mysteries concealed within. It was an incredibly
terrifying day moment in Raymond’s life. Several bodies were spread over the floor and the
blood was spread all over the place. They seemed to be killed brutally several past hours.
“I can’t hold any longer’’ he said to her. Raymond started to vomit uncontrollably. He never
faced a such scene in his life. The sight of the bodies with horrifying injuries and postures made
him experience a little more worry. His mother started examining the deceased bodies on the
floor, after some minutes she came across the body of Joshua Shoko, going by the street name
“Banzi’’. He was a very close friend to Ray’s father, Mr. Philemon and their family at whole.

Therefore, finding his deceased body over the crime scene area arose a suspicion that maybe his
father might be murdered too.
Raymond started crying in agony, and his mother had to console him. They had nothing for
certain to conclude till that moment. The sound of someone snoring laboriously was heard. This
startled all of them, and they had to approach the location were the sound was coming from.
They came out from the back door of that House, and they discovered that there was a shack
situated next to the House. They carefully approached the shack with great caution and they saw
a man snoring on the ground. As they were coming closer, they saw a pool of blood sprinkled all
over the grasses. This was the unspeakable night, the moment he witnessed things he never
thought would come across to his life.

[CHAPTER 2] – THE TRUTH THAT I DIDN’T
KNOW
Two months had elapsed since the passing of his father, Mr. Philemon Joseph Sapuka. The
incredibility of such a turn of events had never crossed his mind, even in his most extravagant
fantasies. The news had swiftly disseminated throughout the entirety of Dane country, a tale that
defied belief. The constant intrusion of radio broadcasts exacerbated his mental turmoil,
ceaselessly reiterating the same tragic narrative. Each mention of his parents' names, inexorably
tied to a perilous criminal syndicate, further ensnared his thoughts. The entirety of his existence
had unraveled;it was not merely his parents' prestige at stake but also the shadow it cast over his
own prospects. A disheartening notion began to take root, that despite his diligent studies, future
employment prospects could be forever tainted by his family's tarnished legacy. Yet, tenaciously,
he persevered in his studies, holding on to the hope that the natural order of things would
eventually realign itself in his favor.
He was allowed to continue his studies while the investigations into the murder of 57 individuals
and his parents' involvement unfolded. The watchful eyes of police officers followed his every
move, conversation, and action, diligently recording and reporting everything. It felt like a never-
ending nightmare, an incessant invasion of privacy. Anxiety clung to him persistently; there was
no escape. Former friends distanced themselves, with the exception of Nance Williams.To
everyone else, he was the child of pirates, murderers, criminal masterminds, drug kingpins, and
illegal gemstone traders. He couldn't accept or deny these allegations, and only God knew the

turmoil in his life. Lost in his own thoughts, he couldn't help but reflect on his parents, who had
always appeared kind and cheerful, not only to him but to everyone they met. Such thoughts left
him feeling overwhelmingly despondent.
“The one you think you know the most, maybe you have no idea at all,” he mused. There was an
undiscovered truth about his life, and he questioned whether he had the strength to face it.
The night of the 20th of October would go down in history as one of the most harrowing nights
of their lives. They approached the ramshackle structure with utmost care, exercising extreme
caution. To their astonishment, they discovered a man slumbering on the ground. Drawing
nearer, they beheld a gruesome sight—an expanse of blood staining the grass beneath. The attire
the man wore perfectly mirrored the customary garments favored by the Ray's father. Though
age had crept upon him, he remained the epitome of timeless fashion. Both of his parents had
always cherished their youthful appearance, as if they were determined to remain forever young.
The mother retrieved her smartphone from her pocket and activated the smart torch. Illumination
revealed the grim reality: the father teetered on the precipice between life and death. His body
bore the grim testament of multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, alongside a fractured leg that
hinted at a fierce struggle preceding his demise. They gingerly shifted him away from the
macabre pool of blood, and the mother attempted to disrobe him to assess the severity of the
injuries. Veronica sounded the alarm, noting the significant blood loss and the looming threat of
hemorrhagic shock if immediate action wasn't taken.
Philemon Sapuka donned the robust chest vest, an item his mother had once explained to him as
a “bulletproof chest plate.” It struck him that such things were typically reserved for cinematic
adventures. It seemed as if his parents were embroiled in something substantial, their actions

hinting at meticulous preparation and an exit strategy. His thoughts drifted momentarily, only to
be jolted back to reality by his mother's urgent plea, “Help me carry my husband!” Tears welled
up in her eyes as she beseeched his assistance. Whispers of reassurance flowed from his mother's
lips as she cradled her husband in her arms, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and hope.
With great care, they lifted him and guided him toward the waiting car.
[ The sound of Silence, by Simon & Garfunkel]
As they helped Philemon toward the car, he made a feeble attempt to speak to Raymond, but his
words were unitelligible. It seemed as though Philemon had something important to convey,
perhaps a message that would reveal the truth: that his own mother was a ticking time bomb,
poised to destroy everything. Veronica, seated in the car, silently prayed that Philemon wouldn’t
be able to utter a word or provide any signal. This was the perfect moment to uncover the harsh
reality that his mother was, in fcat, a deceiver, a destroyer of the legacy of his father had worked
so hard for years to build for him.
Philemon struggled to extends his hand and graspy Raymond’s, atteempting to convey his
message, but he couldn’t quite convey the signal effectively. The weight of the truth loomed
heavy inn the air- Veronica was indeed the source of all the suffering, and there was no room for
doubt.
Veronica made a subtle distraction strategy, though Raymond remained unaware of the ulterior
motives, she sent Raymond back to the house to fetch a piece of clothing for tying his father’s
leg to control bleding. Raymond headed towards on eof te deceased bodies on the ground to
retrieve the necessary cloth. Unbeknownst to him, inside the car, Veronica whispered to him, her
words dripping with malice, “You are supposed to go, Philemon. Your son is grown up, and I

can take control of every bit of your wealth. You have been an obstacle to me, and I never had a
chance to enjoy my life. Die”
Veronica’s action turned sinister as she placed her hand over Philemon’s face, suffocating him
without a sound. She ensured his life slipped away, all while keeping her son, Raymond,
completely oblivious to the dark deed unfolding just inches away.
As Veronica cruelly prevented Philemon from breathing, tears streamed down his face. He found
himself in the midst of a deep pain, not justs from the physical suffocation but also from the
emotional torment of thinking about his son. He wondered what would become of Raymond, his
only child, in he wake of his own demise.
In his final moments, a bitter revelation pierced through his thoughts: “Every evil man has
unpleasant ending.” Philemon, once the continental head of the crime organization, BMO, now
laced the grim irony of his own life coming to an end at the hands of his only wife. He pondered
what fate had in store for her, as history had shown that every evil person eventually met a
painful demise.
As he slipped further into the abyss of death, the pain he felt was not just physical but also
stemmed from the betrayal he had never seen coming, much like the saying goes, “You won’t
see it coming.” He wondered if Raymond would uncover the truth behind his mother’s façade or
meet a similar destiny as his own. In his agony, Philemon couldn’t scream, but he lashed out
with a final act of defiance. He bit into Veronica’s hand as he succumbed to the darkness of
death.
Feeling an insticual need for self- defense, Raymond discretely retrieved a gun from Shoko’s
lifeless hand at the house, unbeknownst to his mother. The weight of the firearm in his palm was
both comforting and terrifying. He sensed that something was gravely wrong, an intuition urging

him to be prepared for anything that might come his way. With trembling hands, he tucked the
gun securely into his waistband, vowing silently to protect himself and uncover the truth behind
the madness that had befallen his family. Every nerve in his body was on high alert, and his
mind raced with thoughts of survival and unraveling the twisted secrets that had led them to this
nightmarish situation. Little did his mother know, Raymond had armed himself, ready to face
whatever darkness lurked ahead.
Veronica, feigning distress, continued her dramatic charade, screaming at the top of her lungs,
“Philemon! My love! Breath, darling! Please, come back to me!...”
Raymond, in a state of panic, hastily grabbed a piece of cloth from one of the lifeless bodies
inside the house. Hearing his mother’s his mother’s cries, he dashed out of the house like a
speeding bullet, fear and concern etched on his face s he rushed to her side.
Raymond’s heart sank as he witnessed the lifeless form of his father, Philemon. Disbelief washed
over him, and he crumbled into tears, his strong façade shattering like fragile glass. In that
moment, he felt like a vulnerable child, overwhelmed by the loss and the shocking turn of events.
Veronica, her eyes filled with tears and guilt, approached her devastated son. She wrapped her
arms around him in a tight embrance, and together, they sobbed in unison. Their shared grief was
a painful reminder of the tangled web of secrets and deception that had led to this tragic
outcome. While Veronica knew the truth of what had transpired, Raymond realized he had to
tread carefully in the uncertain aftermath, where every move couldn’t yet comprehend.
The comfofting hug between Raymond and his mother took a siniter turn when he sensed
something wet on his back. A creeping sense of dread overcome him as he examined his father’s
face and noticed the blood on his lips, a stark contrast to how he had appeared moments before.

Worried and perplexed, He asked his mother if she was bleeding on her arm, attempting to make
sense of the unsual circumstances.
Veronica, taken aback by the question, quickly replied, “Yes, it must have happened when they
were carrying your father’s body into the car.”
His concern deepened, and he offered, “Can I tie your wound?” There was a moment of
hesitation, and then she reluctanatly agreed. As he took his mother’s hand to examine the injury,
the telltale signs of teeth markings became apparent. A chilling realization began to dawn on
him: his mother had been the one who had attempted to kill his father, confirming his suspicions.
With her heart racing and adrenalline pumping through her veins, Veronica swiftly retrieved the
briefcase from Philemon’s hand. She then slid from the back seat to the front, her hands
trembling as she clutched the steering wheel. With a fierce determination, she slammed her foot
on the accelerator, driving away from the crime scene with a reckless abandon. The engine
roared, and the car vanished into the night, leaving behind the echoes of chaos and death.
Meanwhile back at the seat, Raymond remained in stunned silence. The realization that his
mother was a monster disguised in sheep’s clothing hit him like a tidal wave. The woman he had
always known as his loving and warm mother had just revealed herself to be capable of
unimaginale violance and betrayal. His mind strggled to process this shocking truth, leaving him
in a state of bewildered disbellief. Confusion gnawed at him as he grappled with the fact that his
mother had killed his father, a man who had always seemed happy and loving when they were
together. He couldn’t comprehend why his mother had taken such a drastic step, shattering the
semblance of normalcy that had once defined their family. Frustration welled up inside him, a
whirlwind of unanswered questions tomermenting his thoughts. Why had she done it? What had

driven her to such extreme measures? And why had she spared him? The sudden onslaught of
incomprehensible events left him feeling lost, Vulnerable , and utterly bewildered in the face of
the darkness that had descended upon his life.
In the dim twilight, the car glided along the desolate road, slicing through the silence of the
evening. The journey continued until they arrived at a place called 'Usara'. Without hesitation,
Veronica brought the car to a halt, her hands steady on the steering wheel. With a swift motion,
she pulled out her phone, her fingers dancing across the screen as she dialed an unknown contact.
The air crackled with anticipation as the conversation unfolded around them, the words
exchanged between Veronica and the unknown contact foreign and incomprehensible. The
mysterious voice on the other end spoke with authority, demanding a confirmation code.
“Confirmation code PJS0VJPS0RPJSK. Requesting immediate extraction! OVER,” Veronica's
voice rang out, cutting through the tension-laden atmosphere. The unknown contact confirmed,
and Veronica wasted no time in informing them about the compromised situation, invoking 'plan
B'.
“Situations are compromised. Proceeding with plan B, OVER,” she declared, her voice
unwavering. The unknown contact sought details about the extraction location, and Veronica
responded with precision.
“Usara. Maximum time left 40 minutes,” she conveyed, her words laden with urgency. The
unseen voice acknowledged the location and inquired about the number of extracts, to which
Veronica replied firmly.
“One, OVER," she affirmed, her resolve unshakable. The unknown contact probed further,
seeking information about the level of treatment, to which Veronica responded cryptically.

“Level 5. Further explanations will be handled, OVER,” she stated, her tone brooking no
argument.
Time ticked away as they waited in the darkness, the minutes stretching into eternity. Then, like
a fleeting shadow, a Land Rover appeared, swiftly navigating the terrain. Veronica's instructions
were clear. With a reassuring glance, she instructed Raymond to follow the driver, placing her
trust in him. Fear gripped the observer, leaving no room for hesitation as they carried out their
assigned role in that pivotal moment.
In that crucial moment, Raymond's mother's voice cut through the tension, her instructions firm
and resolute. “Follow the driver,” she emphasized, her tone laced with trust. Raymond, clearly
frightened, found himself left with no choice but to comply, his apprehension palpable.
“We are proceeding with plan B. You know exactly what to do,” Veronica directed, her words
directed at the driver. With a nod, the driver took charge, guiding Raymond away from the scene,
leaving Veronica behind, her figure fading into the distance.
Amidst the quiet hum of the moving vehicle, the driver, now revealed as Sam, maintained his
silence, prompting Raymond to break the quietude. “What's your name?” he inquired, his
curiosity getting the better of him.
“I'm Sam, short for Samwel Julian. But I'd rather you call me Uncle Sam. Alright?" Sam replied,
his voice carrying a sense of mystery.
“Okay. So, how did you meet my mother?” Raymond probed further, seeking to unravel the
enigma that surrounded Sam's connection to his mother.
“It's a long story, kid, and I'd rather not discuss it,” Sam deflected, his past shrouded in secrecy.
“Why? Don't I deserve to know?” Raymond persisted, his determination evident.

“Once upon a time, I was your mother's classmate. We were the best of friends, ready to do
anything for each other,” Sam revealed cryptically, leaving Raymond with more questions than
answers.
Raymond, undeterred, pressed on, seeking clarity about the cryptic phrases he had overheard.
“What was that whole 'Agent McDonald: Agent McMicken' affair?” he questioned, his tone
earnest, hoping for an explanation.
“That's the secure way we handled our businesses,” Sam explained, his words laden with a
weight of history, leaving Raymond to ponder the mysteries that surrounded his mother's past.
“Alright, Agent Sam. Why didn't you and my mother end up married?” the curiosity persisted,
the question hanging heavy in the air like an unspoken secret.
Sam, with a slight smile, chose his words carefully, revealing a glimpse of the past. “Please, call
me Uncle Sam. Not every friendship culminates in matrimony, you know. But you're onto
something. We were in love once, but perhaps I wasn't the best choice for her. In the end, she
chose my boss, Mr. Philemon J Sapuka, your father. He had wealth and influence even then, so
perhaps he was the one who truly deserved her,” he explained, his tone tinged with a mixture of
resignation and acceptance.
As he gazed upon Sam's countenance, hidden beneath a facade of composure, it was evident that
turmoil raged within him. He harbored emotions he chose not to reveal, his past with Ray’s
mother a bittersweet memory etched in the lines of his face. At least, he had unveiled a truth that
had eluded him throughout his existence.

Uncle Sam continued to navigate the road, his hands steady on the wheel, his eyes focused on the
path ahead. The journey led them to a desolate dwelling, seemingly abandoned to the world.
They disembarked from the vehicle and sought refuge within. Externally, it bore the semblance
of a run-down establishment, yet its unassuming facade concealed a deeper purpose.
“This structure is but one of your father's ‘go-downs.’ We employ them for the storage of our
armaments, clandestine exchanges, and on occasion, rendezvous,” Uncle Sam disclosed,
shedding light on the hidden facets of my father's enterprises. In that moment, the walls of the
seemingly ordinary building whispered secrets of covert operations and clandestine alliances,
enveloping them in an atmosphere of intrigue and secrecy.
He continued, revealing more layers of his father's covert dealings. “At times, your father
utilized these hideouts not only for storing his wealth but also for conducting clandestine
transactions with government officials and other criminal organizations.”
The revelations left him profoundly astonished, as though trapped in a surreal dream. Sam, with
a practiced ease, reached for a particular box inscribed with the initials 'PJSSON,' a clear
reference to Philemon Joseph Sapuka's son. He unlatched it to reveal clothing, currency, and a
firearm, each item meticulously arranged. Selecting the garments, he tossed them my way,
instructing him to don them.
“Hurry up, Boss Raymond. We're departing in 5 minutes,” he urged, his voice carrying a sense
of urgency that spurred him into swift action. The weight of responsibility settled on his
shoulders as he quickly changed into the attire, realizing the gravity of the situation that lay
ahead."

In a moment of intense emotion, Raymond's trembling hand gripped the gun, pulling it from his
waistband, the metal cold against his palm. His tear-filled eyes burned with fury as he pointed
the weapon at Uncle Sam's head, his voice breaking with a demand for answers.
“Did you collaborate with my mother to kill my father?” he screamed, his voice a furious roar,
the words tearing from his throat like a wounded animal's cry.
Uncle Sam, fear etched across his face, raised his hands in a placating gesture, his voice
trembling with surprise and desperation. “Put the gun down, son. I had nothing to do with your
father's death,” he pleaded, his words laced with sincerity, his eyes wide with shock.
Raymond, his anger escalating, nearly pulled the trigger, his finger trembling on the edge of
release. “Shut up...!! Why did she call you and no one else?” he demanded, the question
punctuated by the deadly click of the gun's safety mechanism.
“Me and your parents have been working in the same organization, BMO if you wanna call it,”
Uncle Sam explained hurriedly, his words a desperate plea for understanding. "I had a romantic
history with your mother, but I have nothing to do with any of your father's death."
“Why did she call you?” Raymond's voice sliced through the air, sharp and unwavering, his
finger tightening on the trigger, the threat of violence hanging heavy between them.
“I just follow orders and protocols,” Uncle Sam replied, his voice tinged with resignation. “Your
mother holds a higher position in the organization, and she had the access to do that. Maybe she
had her own reasons, which I don't know.” His words hung in the air, a fragile thread of
explanation in the face of Raymond's raging storm.
“Why should I trust your words?” Raymond thundered, his fury unabated, his eyes blazing with
anger and suspicion.

Uncle Sam, trembling in fear, his life hanging in the balance between survival and demise,
responded with a shrewd calmness. “You have no one else around to trust, except me. Allow me
to train you, and you will have your vengeance in the future,” he proposed, his words calculated
to appeal to Raymond's thirst for justice.
Breaking through Uncle Sam's words, Raymond's mind whirred with the weight of his decisions.
He looked squarely at Uncle Sam, his voice unyielding. “You owe me a bullet. Your life is in my
pocket, do something stupid, and you'll regret it,” he warned, the threat hanging heavy in the air.
Uncle Sam, breathing a sigh of relief, sensed a chance at redemption. “We have to move out of
here to avoid suspicion. We have to discard every piece of evidence that shows we were here,
including your gun,” he urged, his voice pragmatic, his eyes pleading for cooperation.
Raymond, his gaze a mix of belief and hesitation, handed over his gun to Uncle Sam. “Try not to
do something stupid,” he cautioned, the fragile trust between them hanging by a thread, their fate
now intertwined in a dangerous dance of secrets and survival.Uncle Sam's experienced eyes
scrutinized the gun, his brow furrowing as he realized its true nature. He directed a probing
question at Raymond, his voice laced with curiosity and suspicion. “Where did you get this
gun?”
Raymond, caught off guard by the question, responded with frustration, his words tumbling out
in a rush. “I retrieved it from Joseph Shoko's deceased body in the abandoned house at the time
my mother distracted me to go searching for a piece of cloth to tie my father's leg to control
bleeding,” he explained, his tone tinged with anger and disbelief.
Uncle Sam, adopting a professional demeanor, calmly described the firearm's falseness to
Raymond, providing technical details that confirmed its counterfeit nature.

Feeling a jolt of realization, Raymond's eyes widened with understanding. “So Veronica set him
up from the beginning... the suit... the bulletproof... they were all fake, the delay of backup,” he
exclaimed, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place, the truth dawning upon him.
Uncle Sam, his empathy evident, spoke gently to Raymond, his words carrying the weight of
wisdom. "There are a lot of things to know first before you confront the truth,” he advised, his
voice a beacon of caution amidst the storm of revelations, guiding Raymond to tread carefully in
the labyrinth of deception and conspiracy.
“Hey Boss Raymond,” he called out, the words slicing through the heavy air. His mind was a
tempest of surprise and disbelief, his thoughts racing at the magnitude of his mother's betrayal. “I
wish she had better reasons for doing what she has done,” Raymond thundered, his voice a
volatile blend of fury and fear, the weight of the truth pressing down upon him like a suffocating
storm.
Stammering, he managed to ask, his words barely audible amidst the chaos that engulfed his
mind, “Wha... What... did you say... Bo... Boss?” Trauma clung to me, its tendrils tightening
around his throat, rendering him speechless as the world seemed to spiral beyond control.
“Your inquiries are mounting, kid,” he replied, his voice calm yet tinged with sympathy. “I wish
I could answer them all, but I can't. We're leaving in 3 minutes,” he informed, his words a stark
reminder of the urgency that enveloped them, pulling him back from the precipice of despair.
With no alternative, he complied with his directives, quickly changing into the provided attire.
Sam's hands moved with practiced efficiency, relocating the firearm to another container while
retrieving shampoo, a brush, and a hair dryer from his arsenal of necessities. Methodically, he
cleansed the areas tainted by blood within the vehicle, erasing the evidence of the grim struggle

that had occurred earlier. His movements were deliberate, each action a testament to his expertise
in handling delicate situations.
Upon completing the task, he liberally sprayed the car with perfume, the scent mingling with the
remnants of tension in the air, masking the shadows of the recent events. It became increasingly
apparent that meticulous planning and unwavering control characterized the unfolding events.
The details of his actions left Raymond in the dark, a mere observer, his understanding limited to
the visible surface of the carefully orchestrated facade, uncertain about what lay ahead in the
intricate web of secrecy and intrigue.
Uncle Sam gathered his former attire, the hair dryer, and the shampoo container, placing them
into the incinerator, setting them ablaze to eliminate any potential evidence. The box containing
the gun, whose purpose still eluded Raymond, was carefully stowed away in a secure locker.
This locker was secured with a combination of numbers, the significance of which remained a
complete mystery to him. Exiting the 'go-down', Sam sealed it tightly with passcodes. They
reentered the vehicle, poised to depart.
With an empathetic tone, he remarked, “I understand that everything seems peculiar, Boss
Raymond.”
Tears welled up in his eyes, and he confessed, “I don't comprehend any of it.”
Uncle Sam’s silence echoed his confusion as the vehicle pulled away, leaving the secrets of that
mysterious place behind. The road stretched ahead, winding like the enigma of his mother's
actions, leaving him drowning in a sea of unanswered questions, the truth slipping through his
fingers like grains of sand.
The car glided through the night, the road stretching ahead into the unknown. Inside, a heavy
silence settled, broken only by the hum of the engine and the occasional distant sound of tires on

asphalt. In the dim glow of the dashboard lights, Boss Raymond's face was a canvas of
conflicting emotions – confusion, fear, and a yearning for answers.
Uncle Sam, his eyes focused on the road, spoke in a measured tone, trying to bring a semblance
of clarity to the chaos that had enveloped their lives. His words, though reassuring, couldn't
dispel the thick fog of uncertainty that clung to the air, “I know it's overwhelming, Boss
Raymond. Your mother made some tough choices, and she entrusted me to keep you safe. There
are truths that need time to unfold, and I promise, in due course, it will all become clearer.” He
assured him.
The night outside seemed endless, the darkness swallowing the landscape as they drove further
away from the mysteries of the past. Inside the car, two souls wrestled with the enigma of their
existence, bound together by secrets and a shared journey into the depths of the unknown."
In that moment, Sam's eyes glimmered with a genuine kindness, his voice carrying the weight of
a profound truth. “Every sacrifice made was rooted in love,” he continued, his words weaving a
tapestry of sincerity. “Your parents, despite the hardships, forged a path for you, a testament to
their unwavering devotion. Understand, dear one, life's intricacies may confound, but the love
guiding these decisions remains steadfast, an unyielding beacon in the face of uncertainty.”
In the midst of his fury, he challenged Uncle Sam, “What happens when they forge a path that
you are not interested with?”
Uncle Sam, his eyes brimming with wisdom, responded with a calm confidence. “Life's
pendulum swings between highs and lows,” he stated, his words laden with profound truth.
“Guilt, worry, and happiness, each has its moment. Acceptance of the present, no matter how
harsh, is the key. You, my son, tread a challenging path now, but remember, peace often comes

at a price. Don’t blame your parents for making things this way, wake up and take a streer wheel.
You are responsible for your own life now. Stay resolute amidst the storm.”
Raymond, his voice surprisingly calm, inquired about a darker chapter. “How did it feel,” he
asked, his tone steady, “the time I pointed a gun to your face?”
Uncle Sam locked eyes with him, an aura of profound wisdom emanating from his gaze. His lips
curved into a tranquil smile, as though he held the secrets of the universe within. “Fate, my dear
boy,” he begun, his vovice a melodic symphony of insight, “is a master weaver, crafting the
tapestry of our lives beyond the cnfines of understanding. In the face of my own mortality, I
discovered the art of acceptance- a lesson etched in the fabric of my being. My past, a mosai of
diverse roles, each defined by imperfections, led me to this moment.”. His words resonated like
echoes from ancient scrolls, carrying the weight of centuries-old truths. “Life’s imperfections,
the sins we bear, serve as the chisel shaping our destinies. Even amidst the sahdows, there lies
purpose. As long as breath graces my lungs, I am bound to illuminate paths, to be the beacon in
the darkness of your existance.” The air seemed to shimmer with the brilliance of his revelation,
as if the universe itself had whispered its secrets to him.
Raymond, with a warm smile etched across his face, absorbed Uncle Sam's words intently. The
young boy pondered for a moment, then inquired, “Is there a clear boundary that separates good
and evil?”
Uncle Sam, visibly affected by the depth of the question, clenched his teeth before responding,
“From a human perspective, our inherent flaws lead us to mistakes, feeding our darker impulses.
The more good one does, the more they suppress their evil tendencies. Throughout life, the
cumulative balance of good and bad deeds defines us. There is indeed a definitive line between

good and evil. However, straying into darkness doesn't permanently brand you evil; it signifies a
deviation from your inherent goodness. If you find your way back, embracing the path of
goodness, you become virtuous once more. That's why saints exist, guiding us back to the light.”
Raymond found an interest in Uncle Sam’s words, and he decided to as him another question, “
Do you consider yourself a good or bad person?”
Uncle Sam, his gaze steady, contemplated Raymond’s question for a moment before responding.
“Young man,” he began, his voice carrying the weight of his life’s complexities, “good and bad
are labels society slaps on us, trying to confine the vastness of human experience. In the twists of
my life, I found myself in dark alleys, entangled in the web of a criminal world. Yes, I’ve been a
part of BMO criminal organization, dealt in drugs, and even faced the steel bars of prison. But,
let me share a perspective with you.”
His eyes held a flicker of resilience. “Life doesn’t reward us the same opportunities. I did what I
had to to to survive,” he continued, his tone unyielding. “Life’s storms pushed me to edges I
never thought I’d tread. I made choices, flawed as they were, to protect myself and those I cared
about. Survival sometimes demands paths we’d never willingly choose. It doesn’t make me
inherently bad. It makes me a survivor.”
His words resonated with a profound truth; an understanding born from the crucible of his own
existence. In his defense, he stood firm, a testament to the human spirit’s tenacity amidst
adversity. Raymond understood that he needed to tread cautiously; his life hung in the balance,
and he could very well be a potential witness to the events that had transpired. As he reflected on
that haunting night at the Leto Gold Mining site, a tumultuous mixture of frustration and despair
engulfed him. The grim tableau of lifeless bodies, one of which belonged to his father, remained

etched in his memory. An overwhelming sense of grief and powerlessness washed over me,
leaving my heart heavy with sorrow.
Amidst the chaos, questions raced through his mind. Why had his mother stayed at the crime
scene? Where had she disappeared to? Why had she driven away just when I needed her the
most?
In the midst of this turmoil, an unfamiliar figure, Uncle Sam, introduced himself and ushered me
into a car. I couldn't help but wonder, "Is he trustworthy?"
The car sped away from the macabre scene, taking them further into the unknown, a prospect
that filled Raymond with dread. Silence hung in the air, and his mind was besieged by a
relentless onslaught of distressing images. Sleep eluded him throughout the journey, as his
emotions remained tangled and disordered. Amidst the chaos, he clung to any semblance of
familiarity in this surreal moment, unable to shake the overwhelming sensation that his life had
irrevocably and dramatically shifted.
Underneath his veneer of composure, a cauldron of frustration and anger bubbled relentlessly.
He harbored seething resentment towards the capricious hand of fate that had thrust him into this
bewildering situation, replete with unanswered questions about his family and an ominous fog of
uncertainty shrouding the path ahead. The enigmatic presence of this man, now referred to as his
uncle, only deepened the web of perplexity that enveloped him. He grappled with an inundation
of unanswerable queries, trapped in the labyrinth of his own thoughts.
His mother's fate weighed heavily on his mind, and he had no inkling of her well-being. The loss
of his beloved father on that harrowing night remained a gaping wound in his heart, a
nightmarish reality that defied rational comprehension. Every attempt to unravel the enigma that
had become his life yielded only frustration, a cascade of unanswered questions echoing within.

Impulsively, he declared, “I will do anything to unearth the truth,” the vehemence in his voice
betraying his impatience. At that moment, he couldn't muster the capacity to care about Uncle
Sam's perception of him.
As the car delved deeper into the forest, an eerie hush descended, punctuated solely by the
haunting echoes of owls among the trees. This desolate place, forever etched as the backdrop to
the darkest chapter of his existence, seemed to permeate his very soul. It magnified the
frustration and fear that gripped him, casting a shadow over his thoughts.
Sensing his inner turmoil, Uncle Sam finally broke the silence, his voice providing a stark
contrast to the ominous surroundings. “Raymond,” he began, his tone measured and soothing, “I
understand this is overwhelming, but I need you to stay composed. We'll navigate this ordeal
together, I promise.”
Ray’s reaction was swift, laced with fury. “Promise? That word means nothing to me.”
Uncle Sam probed gently, “Has someone broken your heart?’
“It's already broken,” He retorted bitterly. “Neither your soothing words nor your promises can
mend this devastation.”
“We'll find a way through this. I pr—"
Interrupting him, He unleashed his pent-up frustration. “How can you say that?” His voice
quivered with emotion. “I don't understand anything. Everything has crumbled. My father is
dead, and my mother... she's gone. We're stranded with no answers in the middle of nowhere.
How do you expect me to remain composed?”

Uncle Sam's response was calm and measured. “Raymond, in this world, there are times when
we must take necessary actions to restore equilibrium. BMO, they...they bring order to the
chaos.”
His words hung heavy in the air, a cryptic justification for the convoluted path they found
themselves treading. His frustration simmered beneath the surface, concealed beneath a facade of
forced composure as he offered a nod, pretending to understand. In his heart, he recognized that
his words served as a distorted rationalization for a dubious course of action. Yet, in this
convoluted world, where the boundaries between right and wrong had blurred into murky shades
of gray, he felt trapped without alternatives.
Uncle Sam, ventured forth with his request. “I need you to do something for me. Will you?”
Curious, a response came, “What is it?”
His voice carried a tone of urgency as he divulged, “I need you to be brave and listen closely. In
the event a traffic officer questions us on our journey, we're visiting your grandparents in the
Kito region. We're engaging in a little game here.”
“Alright”, He replied, acquiescing to the strange request
He handed him passports, each meticulously detailed and seamlessly aligned with their
fabricated identities. Despite his efforts to comprehend the situation without burdening “David
Atieno” with inquiries, curiosity got the better of him.
Raymond, taken aback by Uncle Sam’s words, questioned, “I never met my grandparents. Why
should I listen to a stranger teaching me how to lie?”
Uncle Sam, his expression stern, replied, “I think I’ve been patient enough. I’m tired of your
questions. If you find I difficult to cope, I’m afraid your mother has a pending execution order on
your head too.”

Raymond, astonished by the revelation, examined the passport identity card and confronted
Uncle Sam, “Why does it say ‘Spenser David’ here with my passport?”
“BMO uses special hackers to infiltrate NID [National identity system] and generate identity
cards. With our experts, one can have more than one NINs [National identity numbers]. Spenser
David is your new identity that you will use until we safely reach the Kito region,” Uncle Sam
explained calmly.
Raymond nodded in acknowledgement. “Understood”, he replied.
“Good”, Uncle Sam said to him, his tone firm yet reassuring.
Raymond couldn't help but chuckle as he perused the passports. The situation had spiraled into
absurdity, and his very identity had undergone a dramatic transformation. He was no longer
Raymond Philemon Sapuka; his mother was no longer Veronica Philemon Sapuka, and Uncle
Sam was now his father.
“Why are we assuming these new identities?” He inquired, unable to contain his curiosity.
In hushed tones, Uncle Sam, now David Atieno, explained, “It's for our safety, Spencer David.
We must vanish, leaving no trace behind. You must trust me; it's our only safeguard.”.
They kept moving, the surroundings becoming a blur as Raymond’s mind was filled with a lot of
uncertainty. “If Uncle Sam is saying the truth, what kind of a mother dares kill her son?” he
murmured in his mind. He began to contemplate the depths of his mother’s actions, pondering,
“What happened to her?” The unanswered questions weighed heavily on his thoughts, adding to
enigma of their situation.
He acquiesced to his request, yet a whirlwind of unanswered questions stormed through his
mind, casting doubt upon his entire existence. “Was my life a fabrication? Was Veronica truly
my mother? Had Philemon been my real father? Did Uncle Sam conspire with my mother to

eliminate my supposed father? Is Spencer David even my real name, and if so, would it make
any difference? Had everything been orchestrated, and who are my true parents? Is Uncle Sam
an ally or a foe? Were my parents’ privy to these enigmatic circumstances? Would I ever see
Nance again? How would my life unfold? Or is this a dream within a dream?
He decided to shatter the silence, his frustration and confusion bubbling to the surface. “Protect
ourselves from what? What is BMO? Why are we fleeing? Can I even trust you, Uncle Sam? Are
you truly who you claim to be?”
In a gentle tone, Uncle Sam said, “I comprehend your doubts, Spencer, but there are facets
beyond your knowledge, things I can't elucidate right now. Just understand that we must keep
moving, and our new identities will keep us concealed. It's the sole path to uncovering the truth.”
With an avalanche of questions looming, he pressed on, his uncertainty mounting. “From whom
are we running, and why? What has happened to my mother?”
Uncle Sam remained reticent as they continued their journey home to Kito, where they resided.
He ushered him inside the house, inexplicably in possession of the keys. He glanced at the usual
spot where they kept the house keys, only to discover they were still there. “So, he had spare
keys," He muttered to himself.
They settled at the table, and after a while, Raymond switched on the TV to catch the latest
news. He headed to the kitchen, preparing coffee in the early morning light. The news bulletin
reported a brutal massacre of 57 individuals—43 men and 14 women—scattered across the Leto
area. It also mentioned the discovery of an unidentified deceased man, roughly 43 years old,
found within an abandoned and dilapidated Land Cruiser, registered to a businessman named
Philemon Joseph Sapuka in the Usara region.

The available information fails to confirm whether the deceased individual is the registered
owner of the vehicle or someone else entirely. Limited details about his family have surfaced.
The newly appointed Regional Crime Officer, Honorable RCO Salum Motoko, urged full
cooperation in the ongoing homicide investigation. He declared, “My office remains open 24/7
for anyone possessing information, whereabouts, or evidence that could aid in solving this
unprecedented tragedy. The presumed deceased individuals are linked to the formidable
international criminal organization known as the BLACK MAFIAN ORGANIZATION [BMO],
a group that has eluded capture for decades without success. Thank you,” he concluded in his
brief address.
The news sent a shiver down his spine, causing his head to throb. He couldn't help but recollect
the moment he left his mother and father the previous night. The car had been in pristine
condition then, so how could it have exploded? He pondered; his mind devoid of answers. His
gaze shifted to Uncle Sam, who appeared to have dozed off on the couch. It was a school day,
but after what He had witnessed the previous night, attending school that day was not on his
agenda. He retreated to the bathroom, took a shower, and returned to his room, where exhaustion
claimed him, and He succumbed to slumber, leaving Uncle Sam on the couch.
His sleep was disrupted by intense nightmares centered around the previous night's events. He
attempted to return to sleep but found no solace. He ventured out of his room and noticed Uncle
Sam's face etched with anxiety.
“Some NIA agents are pursuing us,” he revealed.
“Why? What's NIA?” I inquired, seeking clarification.
“It's a shortened form for the NATIONAL INVESTIGATION AGENCY. It was established in
1886 in response to significant threats from BMO,” Uncle Sam explained.

“Why are they pursuing us here?” He pressed further.
“Haven't you heard the news? Philemon Joseph Sapuka has been found dead in an explosion.
They suspect he was affiliated with BMO, which is accurate. That's why they came to investigate
him here, at his house.” He explained
“Can you tell me more about NIA and why they haven't been able to dismantle BMO?”
“NIA is a highly trained group with exceptional spies. They collaborate with agents worldwide.
Despite their success in countering terrorism elsewhere, they've failed to track down BMO
because this criminal organization is incredibly specialized, integrated, systematic, and employs
only professionals. It conducts its operations without leaving any trace of evidence. To NIA, it's
almost mythical; none of them have ever actually seen or understood how the organization
operates.”
Raymond was stunned by the revelations but still struggled to comprehend. “Did you say they
work only with professionals” He inquired.
“Yes, exclusively highly trained professionals. Your parents were integral members of the
organization,” he affirmed.
Uncle Sam glanced at his wristwatch, which displayed an incorrect time of 06:00 AM. He
couldn't fathom why he wore a watch that displayed the wrong time. When I glanced at the wall
clock in the dining room, it read 02:03 PM on Tuesday.
“Now, follow me and do as I say,” he instructed.
Uncle Sam moved to the center of the dining room and took an unexpected action. He pushed the
dining table aside and discreetly lifted a corner of the carpet, revealing a hidden glass keyboard
beneath. He skillfully typed a series of passwords, and, to my astonishment, a previously
unnoticed door on the left side of the dining room silently slid open. The door had never caught

my attention, and the way it operated was a marvel of ingenuity. It seamlessly blended into the
dining room's design, leaving me astounded by the level of organization and precision
maintained by the BLACK MAFIAN ORGANIZATION (BMO) to ensure secrecy and security.
“You need to learn quickly and understand everything you see. All our safe houses have an
international design standard. Everything is meticulously arranged,” Uncle Sam emphasized.
He nodded in understanding, saying, “Okay, I understand.”
“We are proceeding with plan B, as your mother mentioned. She is certified by the organization
to initiate plans officially. Last night, she formally activated plan B. Each member of the
organization has a specific role to play at the designated time, and I've been assigned to train
you. Do you understand?” he inquired.
“Yes, I understand," I replied hesitantly.
“We can't venture outside right now as NIA agents are waiting to apprehend us for questioning.
It's not safe for you at this moment,” Uncle Sam added.
Fear gripped him as he questioned, “Not safe for what?"
“Follow me,” he said, guiding him into a newly revealed chamber. The door closed behind them,
and the chamber began descending underground, similar to an elevator. At that moment,
frustration and confusion still clouded his mind. He stood at a crossroads, torn between two
starkly different paths. On one side was his dream of pursuing medicine, a path of healing and
compassion that he had once cherished. On the other side loomed the dark world of the BMO, an
organization that had already ensnared him in its web of secrecy and crime. The gravity of the
decision He was about to make weighed heavily on him, and he couldn't help but wonder if there

was any way to reconcile his shattered dreams of becoming a doctor with the ominous role he
was being thrust into within the criminal underworld.
He was left in awe by the unexpected presence of such an underground facility beneath their
seemingly ordinary house. They arrived in the underground area, which featured office rooms, a
training area, an arsenal room, and even a parking area filled with various new cars. As he
explored the space, he was astounded by its organization. The walls were soundproof, ensuring
that nothing from within could be heard outside. The place was filled with numerous items and
equipment that he couldn't describe due to the limited time. They entered one of the office
rooms.
“Today's session is about self-expression,” Uncle Sam said.
Surprised, he responded, “What? I studied that during the orientation course before my Form 1
classes.”
With a smiling face, he said, “Good, the job will be easier and quicker then.”
After a few minutes of corrections, he asked him to repeat it for the last time until he was
satisfied. Uncle Sam remained in the underground basement and instructed him to return to the
dining room and restore everything to its previous order.
“I'll stay in this underground basement, in case anything goes astray, I'll be your backup,” he
said.
In the chilling silence of the house, Raymond’s footsteps echoed as he entered the bathroom,
seeking solace in the running water of the shower. Outside, shadows cast by dim streetlights
flickered, and NIA agents, their faces stern and badges glinting menacingly, noticed the
movement inside. With an air of authority, one of the agents spoke, his voice sharp and cutting
through the quite like a dagger.

(Each agent showing badges) “This is NIA. We want to ask you a few questions about
yesterday's incident. Will you allow us to enter?” Inquired one of the NIA agents his words hung
heavy in the air, suffocating the room.
“Yes. Come in,” Raymond’s response, though brave, trembled with underlaying fear, his heart
pounding in his chest.
“Do you mind if I make you some coffee?” He offered, trying to mask his unease with false
hospitality.
“No thanks,” one of the agents declined, their gaze piercing, their eyes devoid of empathy.
“What's your name?” the NIA agent inquired, his tone as cold as ice, sending shivers down
Raymond’s spine.
“I thought you'd start by mentioning yours. You're the ones who entered our house.” He
defended, a feeble attempt at asserting control over the situation.
“My name is Agent Raynolds from the NIA,” the agent declared, his words laden with authority,
“and I'm currently in charge of this investigation. This is Agent Anna,” he said, touching her
shoulder with a calculated gesture, “and that's Agent Michael,” he continued, pointing with a
cloved hand. “We are all from NIA. What's your name, please?”
Raymond, his voice barely audible, replied, “Raymond Philemon Sapuka.”
“What's your age?” Agent Raynolds pressed, his eyes scrutinizing every nuance of Raymond’s
response.
“20 years old,” Raymond answered, his throat dry and constricted.
“What are your parents' names?” Agent Raynolds questioned, his tone unyielding, cutting
through Raymond’s defenses.

“Philemon Joseph Sapuka and Veronica Philemon,” Raymond replied, his words hanging in the
air like a curse.
“Is this your current residence, or is there another one we should know about?” Agent Raynolds
probed further, his words echoing with an unsettling finality.
“No, only this one,” Raymond confessed, the truth feeling like a weight upon his soul.
“Where were you last night?” Agent Raynolds continued, his gaze boring into Raymond’s soul,
searching for any flicker of deception.
“Right here in this house, sleeping,” Raymond’s voice wavered, the darkness outside the window
seemingly seeping into his very being.
“Did your parents come home last night?” Agent Raynolds’ question hung in the air, pregnant
with dread anticipation.
“Unfortunately, I fell asleep early and overslept. I'm not sure if they came home and left earlier,”
Raymond confessed, the fear in his eyes reflecting the uncertainty that gripped his heart.
“What's going on? Am I under arrest?” Raymond’s voice quivered, his breaths shallow and
ragged.
“No, kid, there's something we should inform you.” Agent Raynolds said, his expression
unreadable, sending a chill down Raymond’s spine.
(Looking curious and terrified) “What is it?” Raymond asked, his voice barely a whisper, the
room closing in around him, the darkness suffocating, and the agents’ expression foreboding,
painting a picture of horrors yet to come.
Agent Raynolds, his tone measured and empathic, delivered the unsettling news, “I'm sorry,
Raymond Philemon. We've uncovered information about your parents." The weight of his words
hung heavily in the room, the air thickening with dread as he continued, his voice carrying the

weight of the grim truth. “Your father, Philemon Joseph Sapuka, was indeed a victim of the Leto
Gold mining site massacre. He had multiple gunshot wounds, mostly concentrated in the chest
before being exploded in his own car. We have confirmed his identity.”
Shock coursed through him like a lightning bolt, and his face must have contorted into a mask of
sheer terror. His breath caught in his throat as he struggled to process the confirmation of his
father's fate, a reality he had tried to deny for so long.
“Your mother, Mrs. Veronica Philemon,” Raynolds continued, “is still missing. We are actively
searching for her, and we will do everything we can to find her.”
His words were meant to offer a glimmer of hope, but they only left e more bewildered and
confused. Tears welled up in his eyes as a torrent of emotions overwhelmed him- fear, grief, and
confusion all vying for dominance.
He kept fighting to maintain his composure, knowing that in this high-stakes game, one mistake
could mean the end of everything. Despite his inner turmoil, he nodded, thanking the agent for
the information, but inside, it was in turmoil, realizing that the truth about his parents had been
unveiled, leaving his with more questions than answers.
“How long have you known your father was the head of the criminal organization known as the
BLACK MAFIAN ORGANIZATION, BMO?” Raynolds asked.
In a calculated attempt to feign fury and desperation, he retorted, “What the hell are you talking
about? I have known my father as a businessman, and my mother as a doctor. Nothing more,
nothing less. Am I under arrest or what?”

Agent Raynolds, his demeanor unyielding, responded with a chilling certainty, “This is NIA;
there's nothing you can hide from us. We know every detail about your criminal father. We know
his mission and everyone he collaborated with.” His words devoid of emotions, hung in the air,
each syllable dripping with an unsettling truth that sent shivers down his spine. The room seemed
to close in around him, the shadows playing tricks on his senses, amplifying the intensity of the
moment. The façade of control he had clung to shattered like a fragile glass, leaving him exposed
to the dark reality closing in from all sides.
Speaking in a hushed tone, Agent Anna conveyed, “We need your information just to see if it
aligns with what we have. We have an offer for you. In exchange for your cooperation, providing
us with information about your parents and the BLACK MAFIAN ORGANIZATION (BMO),
we can offer you custody protection. You'll be safe, and we'll ensure your well-being.”
With an innocent tone and empathetic face, Agent Michael continued, “If you give us what we
need, you will be free, and we’ll leave immediately through that door” he pointed a finger
towards the exit, his gaze unwavering. “You will be under our protection, and all your school
fees will be covered by the government.”
Their words, shrouded in professionalism, carried an unsettling weight. The room felt
oppressive, the stakes higher than ever before. The choice between revealing secrets that had
long been buried and the ominous unknown hung in the air, intensifying the tension and casting a
chilling pall over the conversation.
In a stern and angry gesture, Agent Raynolds asserted, “Refuse the offer, and you’ll rot in hell.
Are we clear?”
With a disdainful chuckle, he retorted, “If you have everything about him, why are you even
here?”

Agent Michael’s tone turned icy as he responded, “Do you really want to play it like that?”
Switching back to an innocent tone and empathetic demeanor, Agent Michael added, “If you
give us what we need, you will be allowed to continue with your normal routines, your normal
life. You will be under our protection, and all your school fees will be covered by the
government, think about it, Raymond.”
In a display of feigned impatience, he pleaded, “You are the playing here. I am just a student, an
orphan and a child of the parents you are telling me that one is murdered and the other flew to
nowhere. I believe my parents were never involved in any dangerous groups, and I have no
reason to believe they were. So please, if I am under arrest, I would like to speak to my lawyer. If
not, can you get out from my house with all your bullshits.”
Agent Anna, her tone gentle yet persuasive, attempted to sway his decision, stating, “Raymond
Philemon, sometimes people can be drawn into situations without fully realizing that they’re
getting into. We believe your cooperation can help us dismantle a potentially dangerous
organization. You’ll be helping us make the world a safer place.”
Torn between loyalty and fear, he hesitated, his voice wavering, “I…I need some time to think
about it. I can’t make a decision like this without knowing more. Please, can y’all leave?”
With a smile that sent chills down his spine, Agent Anna responded, “Thanks for your
cooperation.”
Her words, though seemingly benign, carried an undertone of menace, leaving him with an
unsettling feeling as they left the room. The weight of the situation clung to him like a
suffocating shroud, making the choice ahead even more daunting. This day, Raymond made a
choice that will haunt him throughout his entire life.

NIA is the special agency organization established to swipe terrorism brought by criminal
organizations in the Dane Country, especially BMO. It was established in 1886, under the
president Jesca Mullein.
That’s how he had a conversation with NIA. They didn’t believe his responses. They knew
Raymond was either lying or hide the truth, in which they were right. They headed towards their
car that was packed outside Ray’s house and started to review the interrogation video they
recorded in the past few minutes.
Agent Raynolds furrowed his brow, scrutinizing the kid’s demeanor closely. “There’s something
off here. His reactions don’t match the weight of the news we just delivered. The kid seemed to
knew what we were about to ask him before we got there.”
Agent Anna nodded in agreement, her eyes focused and analytical. “Absolutely. His body
language doesn’t align with his supposed fear. It’s as if he’s reading from a script.”

Agent Michael claimed in, his voice calm yet discerning. “I observed discrepancies in his
account of his parents. He seemed oddly indifferent about his mother’s disappearance and overly
concerned about trivial matters like school fees.”
Raymond, deep in thought, continued the analysis. “His emotional responses are incongruent
with the gravity of his situation. We need to investigate further, cross-check his statements with
available records, and look for any patterns that might indicate deception.”
Anna leaned forward; her expression determined. “I’ll instruct the tech team to dig into his
background. We might uncover hidden connections or inconsistencies that could unravel his
story.
Michael, acknowledging the urgency, stated, “We can’t afford to overlook any details. The
involvement of the BMO adds complexity. We need to expose the truth, no matter how deep it’s
buried.”
Raynolds nodded, his gaze unwavering. “Agreed. Let’s proceed meticulously. We might be
dealing with more than meets the eye.”
Veronnica, her hands trembling with a mix of fear and desperation, accelerated down the
highway toward THE DREAM HOTEL, her husband’s last known hotel location. Time was of
the essence, and she had a singular purpose- to find the answers that might shed light on her
missions ahead. Unbeknownst to her, the BMO had caught wind of her betrayal. It was a colossal
error, a treason that could serve as gaping hole for tearing down the very foundation of BMO.
They had planted minuscule cameras, strategically hidden, that now broadcasted her moves live
to the BMO headquarters, her actions exposed for their security. Inside the hotel room, Veronica
wasted no time. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, attempting to crack the newly changed

passwords of the safe box and her husband’s computer. Every futile attempt deepened the pit of
despair within her. The walls seemed to close in as she realized her lack of means to decrypt the
files stored on the phone, the laptop, or the mysterious briefcase her husband had obtained from
Philemon.
In the dim glow of the hotel room, Veronica's fingers danced across the keyboard as she
persisted in her attempts to decrypt the encrypted laptop. The tension in the air was palpable as
each failed attempt fueled her growing desperation. Meanwhile, in the heart of the Al-Sahra'
Desert, El Capto Country, Aficaria Continent, within the secretive corridors of the BMO
headquarters, Chief Executive Omari bin Salim strode purposefully toward the accountant's
office. His voice, resonating with cold authority, cut through the air as he issued a chilling
command to Linnaeus Jafar, the chief accountant operator: "Initiate an execution order for
Veronica Philemon Sapuka." The room seemed to freeze in response to the sheer weight of his
words. Omari bin Salim provided meticulous details, outlining Veronica's location at THE
DREAM HOTEL in the Rimeca Continent, Dane Country, Leto Region. He described her
appearance meticulously, ensuring there were no mistakes, and authorized a substantial payment
of $150 million in cash to THE JUSTICE ORGANIZATION, the notorious black cats, a group
known for their lethal efficiency.
Veronica, unaware of the impending danger, made one final attempt to decrypt the laptop.
Against all odds, she succeeded. The same password, her late husband's favorite place he had
always wished to live, granted her access, unlocking not just the laptop but also a safe containing
secrets that could shake the very foundations of the BMO.

Unbeknownst to her, a formidable force had orchestrated her execution, motivated by the
revelation of the briefcase's contents. The unfolding events resembled a high-stakes chess game,
with Veronica unwittingly positioned as the pawn, threatened by powerful players whose moves
were as precise and calculated as those of the most shadowy intelligence agencies.
In a swift, determined motion, Veronica collected everything from the safe and seized
Philemon's laptop, packing them meticulously into a bag. Every second was crucial, and she
knew she couldn't afford to waste even a moment. With a sense of urgency propelling her, she
rushed out of the hotel room and into the corridor. Her footsteps echoed as she made her way
toward the elevator, her heart pounding in her chest.
Meanwhile, in a completely different setting, Madeline Alfred, a dedicated reproductive health
activist, was engrossed in a meeting discussing the alarming increase in the annual rate of young
women getting cervical cancer. Her voice carried a note of concern as she reported, "The
incidence rate of invasive cervical cancer was 8.9 per 100,000 women during 1998 through
2003. More than 70% of all cervical carcinomas were squamous cell type, and nearly 20% were
adenocarcinomas. Cervical carcinoma incidence rates were higher for black women compared
with white women and for Hispanic women compared with non-Hispanic women. Hispanic
women had elevated rates of adenocarcinomas compared with non-Hispanic women. The South
exhibited increased incidence and mortality rates compared with the Northeast."
In her concluding remarks, she emphasized, "Disparities by race/ethnicity and region persist in
the burden of cervical cancer in the Dane country. Comprehensive screening and vaccination
programs, along with improved surveillance, will be essential if we are to reduce this burden in
the future. As reproductive health activists, we have planned to..."

Her speech was abruptly interrupted by a beeping notification on her smartphone. As she picked
up the phone, her expression shifted from focus to shock as she read the message that demanded
an unthinkable action – executing her closest friend, Veronica, a person she had known as the
deepest friend of all time. The message hung in the air, casting a dark shadow over the room,
leaving Madeline torn between loyalty and an unimaginable choice.
Madeline swiftly concluded the meeting, citing a sudden emergency, and hurriedly left the
conference room filled with people and reporters, a live broadcast capturing her every move.
Outside, she informed her driver of the urgency and requested to drive alone to the airport. Her
anxiety was palpable as she entered the car, immediately reaching for another phone. Her fingers
moved rapidly over the screen, typing in a series of digits before pressing call. The phone rang,
each tone amplifying her tension, until finally, a voice on the other end answered with a cautious
"hello."
In hushed tones, Madeline urgently whispered, "You are in danger. Someone at the top chain has
authorized your execution. Stay safe."
Meanwhile, her own fears now confirmed, Madeline, who had sensed for a while that something
was amiss, accelerated her Mercedes with a controlled urgency. She navigated the streets with
precision, heading to the airport where a company plane awaited her. With a single-minded
determination, she took flight, heading directly to the Kito region, her own home, where she
hoped safety and answers awaited her.
As Madeline arrived home, she found her daughter Nance already back from the university.
There was a palpable sense of relief in their embrace, both acknowledging the challenges of their

day's work. In the cozy ambiance of their home, they settled into a mother-daughter
conversation.
Madeline, sensing her daughter's worry, inquired gently, "How was your day at the university?"
Nance sighed; her voice filled with concern. "It was exhausting, Mama. But what's bothering me
more is that I didn't see Raymond at the lecture room today. I'm really upset about it."
Madeline, trying to calm her daughter's rising worry, said reassuringly, "Maybe he had a valid
reason, sweetheart. Don't jump to conclusions. We'll find out what's going on."
Nance, her face a mix of concern and affection, responded to her mother's attempt at reassurance.
"We're not in love, Mama, I promise. But..." Her voice trailed off, her eyes revealing more than
her words.
Madeline, picking up on her daughter's unspoken emotions, gently teased, "Are you sure about
that?" A playful smile crossed her lips.
Nance blushed slightly before regaining her composure. "Positive, Mama. It's just... I'm worried
about him."
Feeling her daughter's genuine concern, Madeline handed her the car keys, her worry evident in
her eyes. "Be careful, my love. Call me if anything feels off. I trust your judgment, but I can't
help but worry."
Nance, taking the keys, mustered a smile. "I'll be fine, Mama, I promise. There's nothing to
worry about. I just want to check on Raymond, that's all."
With a final hug and a whispered assurance, Nance left, her determination visible. Madeline
watched her daughter leave, her heart a mix of worry and pride, trusting in her daughter's
resilience and strength.

Raymond didn’t know why he decided to change and be a continuum to his father’s missions. He
didn’t know where his mom is till this time and he had no idea what happened to her. Something
that he didn’t know till that moment was that, there was a sniper hidden at a distance who was
keeping eye on him. Her mission was to execute him any time he was about to deliver any
information regarding BMO.
He attempted to distract himself by playing video games, but his mind kept drifting back to the
disturbing images from the previous night. Frustrated, he left his room and found solace in
cooking. In the kitchen, he prepared a delightful meal—a colorful array of roasted vegetables,
tender grilled chicken drizzled with a savory sauce, and a side of garlic herb pasta. The aroma
filled the air, offering a brief respite from his troubled thoughts.
Meanwhile, Nance Williams drove her car, her mind consumed by thoughts of Raymond.
Despite the short time they had known each other, her heart was inexplicably drawn to him. She
found herself happy and safe around him.
Raymond, while lost in his thoughts, he was jolted back to reality when he saw the headlights of
a Mercedes, signaling someone's arrival. His pulse quickened with anticipation as he watched
Nance Williams through the car window.
"Give me a minute, baby, I'm coming," Raymond called out, rushing into his room. To his relief,
everything was in order. He sprayed himself with his favorite perfume, infusing the room with its
enchanting scent. The rush of love and excitement momentarily transported him from the world

of worry and sorrow to a blissful, happy realm. He whispered to himself, "Yes, finally, I'm in
paradise."
Outside, Nance playfully teased, "Are you going to let me in or what?"
Raymond, already prepared and with a sparkle of happiness in his eyes, welcomed her inside.
The air was filled with the delectable scent of the food he had prepared, mingling with the
captivating fragrance of his chosen perfume. Both surprised and delighted, they burst into
laughter. Nance couldn't help but exclaim, "I thought I was surprising you, but it turns out I'm the
one falling into your surprise." Their shared laughter echoed in the room, marking the beginning
of a beautiful, unexpected chapter in their lives.
In the warm glow of Raymond's house, he welcomed Nance with a smile that reflected his deep
affection for her. Their evening together was filled with tender moments and heartfelt words,
expressing the profound connection they shared. As they settled into a comfortable conversation,
their voices carried the weight of their emotions.
"Being with you feels like finding a missing piece of myself," Raymond confessed, his eyes
fixed on Nance. "I cherish every moment we spend together. You bring a light into my life that I
never knew I needed."
Nance, captivated by Raymond's sincerity, replied, "You make my world brighter. Your presence
is a calming force, and I feel a profound connection with you that I've never felt before. You're
my sanctuary, Raymond."
Raymond gently took her hand, his touch conveying more than words ever could. "You're my
anchor, my confidant. I can't imagine my life without you. I love you more than words can
convey."

Nance met his gaze, her eyes filled with love and vulnerability. "And I love you, Raymond.
You're my solace, my joy. I feel complete with you by my side."
Their love hung in the air, tangible and undeniable, creating an atmosphere of warmth and
serenity.
In the soft twilight, Nance's eyes gleamed with a thirst, a longing for love that was unmistakable.
Her words, unspoken but evident in the depths of her gaze, expressed a profound desire to delve
into the unknown, to explore the depths of Raymond's world that very evening.
Feeling the magnetic pull of her affection, Nance gently clasped Raymond's hand, her touch
carrying an electric charge of anticipation. With an unspoken understanding, Raymond
reciprocated, acknowledging the unspoken yearning that lay between them. With a tender yet
confident grasp, he pulled her close, enveloping her in the warmth of his arms
Their silent communication spoke volumes, and in that moment, Raymond led Nance to his
room, a sanctuary where the boundaries between their souls could blur and their deepest desires
could be unveiled. The air was thick with the sweet scent of anticipation as they ventured into the
unknown, guided by the unspoken language of love and longing that bound them together.
In the tender moments they shared, it became apparent that this encounter held a significant
meaning for Raymond. It was a novel experience for him, his heart and mind navigating
uncharted territory in the realm of romance. His demeanor hinted at the innocence of a first-time
explorer, stepping into a world he had yet to fully comprehend. Nance, with her keen perception,
observed the intricate dance of emotions within Raymond. She could sense his internal struggle,
the flickering uncertainty mingled with curiosity that played out in his eyes. His emotions, like
delicate butterflies, fluttered within the confines of his mind, yearning to take flight yet tethered
by the chains of inexperience. Despite the intensity of his feelings, Raymond found himself

hesitating, held back by the uncertainties that come with new beginnings. In a surge of passion,
Nance's desire engulfed her like the primal instincts of a hungry lioness on the prowl. With a
fervent hunger in her eyes, she pounced on Raymond, her hands and lips becoming explorers
tracing the landscape of his body. Every touch was charged with intensity, as if she was seeking
to uncover hidden secrets beneath his skin. Her movements were swift and purposeful, driven by
a carnal need that knew no boundaries. She devoured his presence with a raw, unbridled hunger,
her touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Her lips pressed against his skin, tasting him as if he
were the most exquisite delicacy, each kiss imprinted with the urgency of her longing.
With fervent urgency, her fingers traced the lines of his physique, mapping out the contours of
his form as if she were unearthing a precious treasure. Her lips pressed against his skin, leaving a
trail of fiery kisses in their wake, each one a testament to her insatiable appetite. In the heat of
the moment, she became a creature of raw instinct, driven by a primal longing that transcended
the confines of reason.
Their bodies entwined in a sensual ballet, their hunger became a palpable presence in the room,
filling the air with an irresistible intensity. The room seemed to pulsate with their shared desire,
each touch and caress a testament to the magnetic pull drawing them closer together. In that
moment, they were not just lovers; they were creatures of the wild, succumbing to the allure of
their most basic instincts, lost in the wilderness of their passion.
In the cocoon of their shared passion, Nance and Raymond found themselves entrapped in a
heavenly bliss, experiencing a level of pleasure that transcended any they had ever known
before. Every touch, every caress, sent them soaring to unparalleled heights of ecstasy. It was as
if they had discovered a secret haven, a realm where pleasure knew no bounds, and they were the
willing explorers of this uncharted territory.

As their intimacy peaked, Nance released a breathy sigh, her body feeling both satiated and yet
hungry for more, like a vehicle refueled yet still yearning for motion. Raymond, overcome by the
intensity of their connection, roared in primal satisfaction, his voice echoing like a lion's call on a
stormy, rain-soaked night.
Their love was extraordinary, a unique blend of raw desire and genuine affection. It felt organic,
as if their souls had recognized each other across lifetimes, coming together in a union that felt
destined. With each passing second, their passion elevated them to a plane of pleasure previously
unexplored, a realm they had never dared to venture into before. In this euphoric state, time
seemed to stretch, and the boundaries between their souls coming into proximity. Everyone
exhales in trouble, their breath trapped by the pleasure they encountered. No one was ready to
lose the other, their chemistry was extraordinary and no one else wanted to leave from that
chemistry, it was special. In the aftermath of their intense encounter, their bodies entwined in a
shared moment of intimacy, Nance and Raymond basked in the aftermath of their passionate
union. Their breathing slowed, and a sense of contentment settled over them, filling the room
with a serene atmosphere.
Nance, her eyes soft with a mixture of awe and vulnerability, turned to Raymond. "I've never
experienced a love so deep and genuine before," she confessed, her voice barely above a
whisper. "If I had known such love existed, I would have chosen it without hesitation. It could
have eased the pain of betrayal I endured from James Jr."
Her words hung in the air, carrying the weight of past wounds and the hope of a new beginning.
In this intimate moment, they shared not only their bodies but also the depths of their emotions,
forging a connection that transcended the physical realm.

Madeline stood in the shadows, her eyes fixed on the room where her daughter, Nance, and
Raymond shared an intimate moment. A bittersweet smile graced her lips as she observed their
connection, recognizing the purity of their emotions. She couldn't help but let them revel in the
joy of newfound love, understanding the rarity of such a bond.
As Madeline glanced around the surrounding buildings, a subtle unease settled over her.
Instinctively, she sensed a presence, a silent observer in the shadows. The feeling of being
watched sent shivers down her spine, prompting her to scan the area for any signs of intrusion.
Unbeknownst to her, a skilled sniper, ever watchful, had been overwatching the scene. As
Madeline's eyes scanned the vicinity, the sniper swiftly concealed herself, blending seamlessly
into the darkness, their trained instincts responding to the arrival of an unexpected presence. In
the silence of the night, she remained hidden, observing from a distance, ensuring their watchful
gaze went unnoticed.
Madeline drove back home with a complex swirl of emotions clouding her thoughts. Her heart
was both filled with happiness for her daughter's newfound love and haunted by the demons of
her own past. The warmth of love that Nance was experiencing was something Madeline had
never truly known in her own life. Love had always been a distant and unattainable dream for
her, a realm she had purposely avoided, scarred by her own painful experiences.
As she made her way home, Madeline's mind was flooded with prayers, whispered into the night
like a desperate plea to the universe. She prayed fervently that Raymond, the man who had
captured her daughter's heart, would be different, that he wouldn't break Nance's heart as others
had broken hers. The weight of her hopes and fears settled heavily on her shoulders, a burden she
carried with both trepidation and anticipation.

In the quiet solitude of her prayers, Madeline found solace, channeling her deepest desires into
the universe, hoping against hope that her daughter's love story would be different, that it would
be filled with the happiness she had always longed for but never dared to believe was possible.
Her footsteps echoed her silent prayers, a fragile echo of hope in the face of her own shattered
dreams.
In the hidden shadows, Elizabeth Deathtrap, the enigmatic sniper, observed the unfolding love
story of Raymond and Nance with a mix of fascination and envy. The intensity of their
connection left her both captivated and longing for something she had never known. As she
indulged in her escape, finding solace in the haze of intoxication, she allowed herself a
momentary break from the harsh realities of her profession. In the depths of her high, she
dreamed of a love as profound and genuine as the one she had witnessed.
With a bittersweet smile, Elizabeth acknowledged the beauty of their connection, even from a
distance. She saw in them a love that transcended the ordinary, a flame that burned brightly in
the darkness. In her own way, they became unwitting role models, symbols of hope for those
who yearned for a love story as compelling as theirs.
Unbeknownst to Raymond and Nance, their bond had become a beacon of inspiration,
illuminating the path for others who dared to dream of such a love. As their journey unfolded,
veiled in uncertainty, the impact of their love story resonated far beyond their own lives, leaving
a mark on the hearts of those who witnessed their connection. The future remained unknown, a
tapestry waiting to be woven, and the world watched,
wondering where the twists and turns of their journey would ultimately lead them.

Nance Williams sat in Ray's room, her fingers dancing over the phone keyboard, typing out a
message to her mother. As she pressed send, her hands momentarily stuck in the position,
lingering on the keyboard, caught in a moment of hesitation.
Meanwhile, at Madeline's house, she was engrossed in preparing something special for herself
and her daughter. In the midst of her preparations, a beep notification illuminated her smartphone
screen. Her eyes widened with anticipation as she read the message, her face slowly breaking
into a smile.
"Mom, I won't make it home today. Me and Raymond are stuck in a video game, and at this hour
of the night, I wouldn't be able to drive. Hope you won't mind it, Darling, Nance W."
Madeline read the message, her skepticism growing with every word. A wry smile played on her
lips as she muttered, "Damn, she's started lying."
In response, Madeline picked up her phone, her fingers gliding over the keys as she typed out a
reply, "Take care, darling. I love you, Madeline." The words carried both a mother's concern and
a hint of understanding, embracing the complexities of their relationship in a single message.
Madeline sat alone in her room, the weight of her past and the burden of her present pressing
heavily on her shoulders. She opened a drawer and retrieved an old diary, its pages filled with
memories of a time long gone. Among the faded pages, she found a photograph from her
childhood, a cherished memento that now seemed to mock her with its innocence.
As she gazed at the photograph, tears welled up in her eyes, blurring the image before her. The
haunting reality of the task she had been assigned gripped her heart, squeezing it with a relentless

force. The message on her phone, a stark reminder of the choices she was forced to make,
loomed large in her mind.
Veronica Alfred, her most beloved childhood friend, had become her target, a bitter twist of fate
that tore at the seams of their once unbreakable bond. Veronica's actions, driven by a thirst for
vengeance, had left Madeline grappling with a decision that seemed impossible to make. How
could she reconcile the love she felt for her friend with the dark path she was now compelled to
tread?
To make matters worse, Madeline was burdened by a secret she dared not share with her
daughter. The growing affection between Raymond, her target's child, and Nance, her own flesh
and blood, only deepened the complexity of their predicament. How long could she keep the
truth hidden? How long before the fragile facade they had built crumbled, exposing the harsh
realities beneath?
In the silent confines of her room, Madeline found herself caught in a web of uncertainty,
wondering how much longer she could hold everything together before it all fell apart. The
weight of her decisions, past and present, bore down on her, threatening to crush the very
essence of her being.
Madeline, engulfed in the shadows of her room, made a silent decision. With a heavy heart, she
reached out and switched off the light, plunging her surroundings into darkness. She wrapped
herself tightly in the covers, seeking solace in the cocoon of her bed. The weight of her burdens
pressed down upon her, yet she chose to surrender to the night, leaving the intricate tapestry of
fate to weave its unpredictable path.

Meanwhile, in a different world illuminated by the soft glow of moonlight, Nance and Raymond
found sanctuary in each other's arms. The night, once filled with uncertainty and tension,
transformed into a canvas upon which their love painted vibrant and tender strokes. In the quiet
hours, they blessed the night with love, their hearts intertwining in a dance of affection and
understanding, seeking refuge from the complexities that surrounded them. As they embraced the
warmth of each other's presence, they found solace in the simplicity of their connection, allowing
love to be their guiding light in the darkness.
Madeline's nights were haunted by the specter of trouble. In the silent depths of darkness, her
sleep was marred by terrible nightmares that crept into her subconscious like malevolent
shadows. She would awaken, her scream stifled by the terror that gripped her. Each time her eyes
fluttered open, it was only the early hours of the morning, a ghostly 03:30 a.m. that taunted her
with the reminder of sleep's elusiveness.
Her restless nights were not merely a consequence of sleeplessness; they were infested by the
cruel companionship of insomnia, a relentless foe that tormented her weary mind. Moreover, she
grappled with a haunting condition, post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), a cruel reminder of
past traumas that continued to haunt her even in the quietest hours of the night. The burden of
her condition weighed heavily on her, making peaceful slumber an unattainable luxury.
Throughout the night, she was trapped in a cycle of torment, never finding respite from the
clutches of her troubled mind. The darkness offered no solace, only serving as a canvas for her
tortured thoughts. Sleep remained a distant dream, slipping through her fingers like grains of
sand, leaving her to navigate the endless hours of the night in a state of perpetual unrest.

Wednesday morning unfolded, blessed with the promise of a new day. Raymond greeted the
day's first light, stirred from his slumber by the persistent chime of his alarm clock at 5:00 a.m.
He embarked on his morning routine, a whirlwind of cleanliness that transformed their home into
a haven of order. While Nance still lingered in the embrace of dreams, possibly enchanted by the
love they had shared the previous night, Raymond set about his tasks diligently.
With meticulous care, he transformed their home into a sanctuary of cleanliness. The dishes were
washed with precision, the floors gleamed under his attention, and even the flowers outside
received the rejuvenating touch of rainwater. His tasks completed; he felt a sense of
accomplishment settle within him. Guided by the rhythm of his morning routine, he stepped into
the shower, letting the cold water revive his senses and prepare him for the day ahead.
Returning to their shared room, he gazed at Nance, still lost in the realm of dreams. Her beauty
was captivating, a symphony of delicate features and radiant skin illuminated by the soft
morning light. Her hair, a cascade of silk, framed her face with elegance, adding to her allure. As
he watched her, he found himself entranced, his heart swelling with affection for the remarkable
woman who shared his life.
Leaving her to the tranquility of her dreams, Raymond quietly made his way to the kitchen.
There, his skilled hands orchestrated a breakfast extravaganza that transcended the ordinary. The
enticing aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the sizzle of bacon and the warmth of
pastries, creating an olfactory masterpiece that filled the air with temptation. The table was
adorned with an array of delights, meticulously arranged to please both the eye and the palate.
As the tantalizing scent of breakfast wafted through the air, it worked it magic on Nance. Roused
by the aroma, she hurried to the bathroom for a quick shower, the enticing smell guiding her
steps toward the source of this culinary marvel. The breakfast, a testament to Raymond's culinary

prowess, was a feast fit for royalty, a delightful symphony of flavors and textures carefully
crafted to awaken even the most reluctant of mornings.
After her shower, Nance Williams emerged, her skin glistening with the freshness of the
morning. As she dried her beautiful body, she moved with a grace that hinted at her inner
confidence. Stepping into their room, she put her attire which was prepared by Raymond, each
movement purposeful and elegant.
Entering the dining room, she found Raymond waiting with a breakfast spread that looked
nothing short of a culinary masterpiece. The aroma filled the room, promising a delightful
journey for their taste buds. As they sat down to eat, the flavors danced on their tongues, creating
a symphony of tastes that elicited appreciative sighs from both of them. The food was not just
nourishment; it was a celebration of their togetherness.
Nance couldn't help but watch Raymond's face as he enjoyed his creation. His gentleness,
evident in every gesture, warmed her heart. He embodied the qualities she had always dreamed
of in a partner – someone who could satisfy her desires both in the bedroom and in life, a man
who cared deeply, and a culinary artist in the kitchen. He was the kind of man who would not
only capture her desires but also hold her heart with tenderness and respect.
In her heart, Nance knew what she wanted. She was a woman of high standards, unafraid to set
the bar high. She desired a man with a vision, someone who was transparent and genuine,
qualities she saw reflected in Raymond's eyes. His presence filled her with a sense of security, a
feeling that she had found something rare and precious.
Nance was not just a woman; she was a force of nature, a person who never settled for
mediocrity. To win her heart, one had to match her passion, understand her dreams, and
appreciate the depth of her character. She was not just a girl; she was a woman with aspirations

and a heart full of love, waiting for the right person to share it with. And in Raymond, she saw
the potential for a love story that transcended the ordinary, a connection that went beyond the
surface and delved into the depths of their souls.
After finishing their breakfast, they shared lingering kisses, the warmth of their affection evident
in every touch. Raymond gently escorted Nance outside, his eyes filled with adoration as he
closed the door behind her. With practiced ease, he placed the keys in their designated spot,
ensuring everything was in order before they left.
Opening the door of her luxurious Mercedes Benz, Nance gracefully slid into the driver's seat,
her confidence shining through. Raymond settled in beside her, and as Nance inserted the key
into the ignition, the powerful engine roared to life. The sleek, modern Mercedes glided out of
the driveway, carrying them toward both Nance's home and their shared destination – the
university.
The car moved with effortless grace, a testament to both its engineering and Nance's skillful
driving. As they merged into the traffic, the world outside seemed to blur, while inside the car,
their connection remained sharp and clear. The journey ahead was not just a physical one; it was
a continuation of the bond they shared, a path leading them to more moments of togetherness and
love.
The day continued in a whirl of romantic glances and shared moments for Raymond and Nance.
Their connection was undeniable, and inside the classroom, their eyes often met, communicating
a depth of affection that was hard to miss.
As the sessions came to an end, they decided to head out for lunch together, their hands touching
lightly as they walked. The sight of them together caught the attention of many, including Glory

Jackson, the president of the DIGITAL MAGAZINE SOCIETY (DMS) club. She couldn't help
but approach Nance with a mix of curiosity and surprise.
"In the past week, we saw you going through a romantic tragedy with James Jr. Rumors were
spreading, but here you are, hanging out with Raymond, and the love between you two is
palpable. Who should be blamed for your breakup?" she inquired; her eyes sharp with curiosity.
Nance, her hand resting on Raymond's shoulder, smiled confidently, her laughter filling the air.
"I was never a victim, nor should anyone be blamed. Some things have their time and place, and
then they change. Past relationships become history. I focus on my future and what I want in my
life."
Turning to Raymond, Glory asked, "Raymond, is Nance Williams your first love?"
Raymond's smile widened; his eyes filled with genuine affection. "Not just the first, but the one
and only," he replied, his voice filled with certainty.
"Wow," Glory responded, clearly impressed by their connection.
Meanwhile, the live broadcast of their conversation spread through the students' smartphones
like wildfire. Everyone was glued to their screens, captivated by the unfolding drama.
In another part of the campus, James Jr. couldn't contain his fury upon hearing the news. Fueled
by anger, he impulsively smashed his phone against the wall, the cracks on the screen mirroring
the broken pieces of his heart.
James Jr.'s life spiraled into chaos as jealousy consumed him. Excessive drinking became his
coping mechanism, a futile attempt to drown the pain and frustration that gnawed at his heart.
The night grew darker as he stumbled home in the early hours of the morning, his mind clouded
with regrets and bitter thoughts.

In the midst of his turmoil, he wrestled with the question of who to blame. Was it Nance for
moving on, or was it himself for letting her slip away? The answer eluded him, hidden behind
the fog of intoxication and self-pity. It was too early for him to face the truth, to confront his own
insecurities and face the consequences of his actions. As the night wore on, James Jr. remained
lost in his thoughts, a prisoner of his own emotions, unable to escape the tormenting cycle of
jealousy and regret.
Amidst the tranquil setting of the beach, where the gentle waves lapped against the shore and the
breeze carried whispers of serenity, a storm of emotions brewed within Nance and Raymond.
Little did they know, a malicious plot was unfurling, fueled by jealousy and vindictiveness.
James Jr., driven by his overpowering jealousy, manipulated Glory Jackson with money and
influence, coercing her to tarnish Raymond's name and question Nance's choices. The news of
criminal activities involving Raymond's parents spread like wildfire across DMS blog and social
media platforms. Stickers and memes, bearing Raymond's face and his family's names, filled
their screens, surrounded by harsh comments and judgments.
Nance, her eyes widening in shock, confronted Raymond with the disturbing images. A wave of
disbelief and anger washed over him as she questioned his trust. "Tell you what? Huh! You
believe the rumors, right?" he spat out, his voice filled with frustration and hurt.
Nance, her own emotions raw, responded with a mix of disappointment and resolve. "In my life,
I never wanted to associate myself with the child of murderers, drug kingpins, and mineral
gamers. I only wanted a peaceful life. If that was too much to ask, you should have told me."

Raymond, unable to contain his sorrow, felt tears escape his eyes, falling like drops of shattered
dreams onto the sand. The betrayal cut deep, leaving both hearts wounded and trust shattered, the
innocence of their budding love eclipsed by the shadows of suspicion.
As Raymond walked away, the weight of Nance's words bore down on him, leaving his heart
heavy with hurt and disbelief. With every step he took, he tried to mask his pain with a facade of
confidence, but when he thought he was out of sight, he crumbled into tears, questioning why his
first love had turned against him so quickly.
Unbeknownst to Raymond, Nance had followed him, realizing her mistake and the pain she had
caused him. She watched from a distance as he grieved, her heart aching with regret. She wished
she had approached the situation differently, understanding now that trust should have preceded
judgment.
[Someone You Loved by Lewis Capaldi playing]
Raymond, his vision blurred by tears, tried to check his phone, but the emotions flooding his
eyes made it nearly impossible to see the notifications. He narrowly avoided being struck by a
passing car, but he pressed on, determined to reach the sanctuary of his home.
Desperate to escape his turmoil, he pulled out his earphones and played his favorite song, using
the music to drown out the echoes of his shattered trust. With each step, he began to jog, turning
his grief and anger into a powerful drive, channeling his emotions into a physical outlet.
Nance continued to track him, observing how Raymond transformed his pain into a relentless
determination. He jogged not just because he enjoyed it, but as a ritual, a coping mechanism that

helped him manage his stresses. Little did she know, she was witnessing the strength of his
character even in moments of vulnerability.
Raymond reached home and found Uncle Sam had prepared a dinner.
He had been following the newly found relationship between Raymond and Nance, and saw how
it took a downfall into the social media.
"The truth that I didn't know" Raymond said to him
What? He inquired
"I need to know the truth about everything" Raymond insisted
Let's get started, uncle Sam said

[CHAPTER 3]- AWAITED DREAM
The days merged into nights, and Raymond found himself immersed in the relentless training
provided by Uncle Sam on Basic Military Operations (BMO). The training grounds were
unforgiving, a battleground of sweat, determination, and resilience. Raymond approached each
session with unwavering dedication, his mind and body pushed to their limits. Despite the
physical and mental exhaustion, he persevered, for he understood the magnitude of the skills he
was acquiring.
The BMO training sessions were not just about mastering combat techniques; they were about
honing discipline, building endurance, and nurturing mental fortitude. Raymond embraced the
challenges, internalizing the lessons with every drop of sweat that fell to the ground. The
grueling physical exercises pushed his body to its limits, forging muscles and sinews into
instruments of precision.
Uncle Sam, a seasoned mentor, guided him through the intricate web of military strategies and
tactics. Every move, every decision, was meticulously analyzed and practiced. Raymond's hands
gripped weapons, his movements becoming fluid, his mind sharp as a blade. He learned to
calculate risks, anticipate opponents, and strategize his actions. The training transformed him,
shaping him into a formidable force, a warrior ready for the battles that lay ahead.
Amidst the intense physical training, there was a deeper purpose that fueled Raymond's
determination – the search for truth. The knowledge that understanding his own story was vital
for his success in the world of shadows and secrets. The truth was his compass, guiding him
through the murky waters of deception and lies.

In the dead of the night, after hours of rigorous training, Raymond would find solace in the quiet
corners of his room. There, he delved into the mysteries of his past, piecing together fragments
of information, seeking the elusive truth that had eluded him for far too long. The darkness
outside mirrored the shadows within his soul, and in those moments of solitude, he vowed to
uncover the secrets buried deep in his family's history.
Uncle Sam observed Raymond's determination, his eyes reflecting both pride and concern. He
knew the path they were treading was treacherous, fraught with danger at every turn. But he also
saw the fire in Raymond's eyes, the unyielding spirit that refused to succumb to fear. Together,
they delved into the intricacies of espionage, decoding encrypted messages, and understanding
the clandestine world of intelligence gathering.
Raymond's smartphone beeped incessantly, the screen lighting up with notifications from Nance
Williams, the first woman to have ever entered his fantasy world of love. With every beep,
hesitation crept into his mind, reminding him of the incident from the past week. His fingers
hovered over the screen, torn between responding to her messages and abstaining from the
connection he deeply craved.
Standing at the crossroads of his emotions, Raymond found himself entangled in conflicting
feelings. He cared for Nance, loved her with a sincerity that resonated in his every heartbeat. Yet,
he couldn't shake off the weight of his secrets, the burden of the truth that threatened to shatter
the fragile bubble of their budding romance.
The desire to confide in Nance warred with the fear of losing her. What if the truth drove her
away, leaving him alone in the darkness of his secrets? The mere thought of their last
conversation hanging in the balance haunted him, and he couldn't bear the idea of a future
without her by his side.

In an attempt to escape the suffocating grip of his emotions, Raymond made a decision. He
retreated to the sanctuary of the basement, where the gym section awaited him. His movements
were swift, fueled by a potent mixture of anger and determination. The rhythmic thud of his
footsteps echoed in the empty space as he practiced with a relentless fervor, his body
transforming into a machine of raw power and endurance.
With each punch, each push-up, he channeled his frustration, his anger at the world that denied
him the simple pleasure of love. The sweat poured from his body, cleansing him of the
conflicting emotions that threatened to consume him. The gym became his sanctuary, a place
where he could release the pent-up energy, where he could focus on the physical strain,
momentarily escaping the complexities of his tangled emotions.
As he trained, his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, his heart heavy with the weight of his
secrets. The love he felt for Nance was genuine, a beacon of light in the darkness of his
existence. Yet, the shadows of his past loomed large, casting doubt and uncertainty over their
relationship. Raymond knew he couldn't keep her in the dark forever, but the fear of losing her
held him captive, preventing him from reaching out and sharing the truth that had become his
burden. In the gym, surrounded by the scent of sweat and determination, Raymond grappled with
his emotions. The love he held for Nance was a double-edged sword, bringing both joy and
agony. As he continued his rigorous training, he vowed to find a way, a solution that would
allow him to love without fear, to embrace their relationship without the haunting specter of his
secrets. The battle within him raged on, and in that moment, the gym became the battleground
where his emotions clashed, leaving him both victorious and defeated in the struggle for love and
truth.

Raymond made the decision to ascend from the basement, the echoes of his rigorous workout
still reverberating in his muscles. He moved with purpose, heading directly to the bathroom
where he stood under the cold rush of the shower, hoping the icy water would wash away not
just the physical exertion but also the turmoil in his mind. After the shower, he meticulously
ensured everything was in order before leaving the house. Despite his struggles to straighten his
thoughts, Nance Williams remained an ever-present figure in his mind, her image entwined with
his every thought and emotion.
Raymond, unable to shake off his internal battles, resolved not to cook that day. He retrieved his
wallet and drew out some money, intending to find solace in a simple meal. He headed to the
nearest Kentucky Fried Chicken (KFC), the aroma of fried chicken wafting through the air as he
approached.
Entering the familiar fast-food restaurant, he placed his order and opted for a chicken meal. On
his way back, he halted at one of the gardens he used to frequent when he sought refuge from the
world. The peaceful ambiance provided a temporary escape, a respite from the chaos within his
mind. As he tried to eat his food, he found his appetite diminished, replaced by overwhelming
thoughts of his father, Philemon. The memories flooded back – of a handsome, loving, and
gentle man who had once cared for him. Now, he was gone, lost to the unknown circumstances
surrounding his death.
Raymond's life felt like a distorted puzzle, with no clear formula to put the pieces together.
Suspicion clouded his thoughts, suspecting his own mother's involvement in his father's fate. The
revelation of his connection to BMO added another layer of complexity. He wondered if his
destiny was leading him toward his dreams or if he was merely trapped in the awaited dreams his

parents had once envisioned. The uncertainty hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over his
every step, leaving him adrift in a sea of unanswered questions.
In the solitude of the garden, tears streamed down Raymond's face, each drop a testament to the
shattered fragments of the once-happy family he had known. The weight of his unknown fate
bore heavily on his shoulders, casting a shadow over the memories of a time when laughter and
love had filled their home. He felt adrift, uncertain of where his path would lead him, and the
pain of the unknown future was almost unbearable.
Unbeknownst to him, Nance Williams had followed him to his home, her steps quiet as she
approached. She hesitated at his doorstep, her heart and mind warring within her. There existed a
profound connection between them, a deep bond that transcended the complexities of their lives.
As she contemplated leaving, Raymond, seemingly drained and fatigued, emerged from the
house. Nance made the spontaneous decision to follow him, silently trailing behind him without
his knowledge. She watched from a distance as he found solace in the garden, his tears mingling
with the soil beneath him.
In that moment, Nance experienced a surge of joy, misunderstanding his tears as a reflection of
his thoughts about her. Little did she know, Raymond's tears were for the family he had lost, the
parents he missed, and the uncertain future that awaited him. In her misunderstanding, happiness
replaced her haunting sorrow, and she found comfort in the belief that she occupied his thoughts.
Unable to contain her emotions, Nance pulled out her phone from her bag and dialed Raymond's
number. The notification on his phone interrupted his sorrowful thoughts, and he hesitantly
picked up the call, his voice laden with vulnerability. Amidst the turmoil, their connection
remained, a lifeline in the storm of their lives.

As Nance removed her headphones, the melodious strains of Adele's "Someone Like You" filled
the air, creating an enchanting ambiance around her. She turned to Raymond, her eyes reflecting
the wistful lyrics of the song, and whispered that she thought he was thinking of another girl
other than her.
"In the garden of my heart, where the flowers of love once bloomed, I find solace in our shared
memories. Though tears may fall, our bond endures, a beacon guiding us through the darkness."
[Song: Adele - Someone Like You].
"Do you like love surprises?" Nance inquired, her eyes twinkling with anticipation.
Raymond's face lit up with a smile, his mind conjuring memories of the surprises his mother
used to arrange for him. "Yes," he replied, his voice infused with nostalgia. "My mom used to
make some lovely surprises for me."
Encouraged by his openness, Nance extended an invitation, her voice laced with anticipation.
"Make a wish, Raymond. Anything your heart desires, and I'll make it come true."
Raymond hesitated for a moment, then bared his soul with a raw honesty that sent shivers down
her spine. "I wish you'd be here right now with me, darling," he confessed, his words echoing the
ache in her own heart.
A playful sparkle gleamed in Nance's eyes as she responded, "All you have to do is close your
eyes."
Raymond, intrigued yet still a bit skeptical, challenged her. "Gifts for blinds? I like it," he said,
his tone light with amusement.

With a mischievous smile, Nance issued her response, her confidence evident in her words. "Just
count to ten, and I'll be standing beside you."
Raymond closed his eyes, trying to imagine Nance beside him, but as he counted, a subtle yet
enchanting perfume filled his nostrils, throwing him off balance. The fragrance was intoxicating,
a blend of elegance and allure that left him momentarily disoriented.
In the midst of his confusion, he felt a gentle touch on his shoulder. His eyes flew open, and
there she was – Nance Williams, standing before him like a vision brought to life. His surprise
transformed into awe, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of her.
Smiles bloomed on their lips, mirroring the joy that danced in their hearts. A potent magnetic
force seemed to pull them together, their connection tangible and irresistible. Yielding to the
pull, they embraced each other with an intensity born from their deep affection, as if they were
determined to bridge any gap that had ever existed between them.
Their lips met in a fervent kiss, a fusion of longing and devotion that had lingered unspoken
between them.
In the dim light of the evening, Raymond and Nance walked hand in hand, their fingers entwined
with a firm grip, signifying the unspoken understanding between them. As they made their way
to Raymond's house, a sense of anticipation hung in the air, thick with the energy of their longing
Their steps seemed to echo the beats of their hearts, synchronized in a rhythm that only they
could comprehend. The air was charged with an electric tension, the kind that arises when two
souls deeply connected find each other after a brief separation. Every glance, every touch, spoke
volumes, expressing the hunger they felt for each other's presence.

As they entered Raymond's home, the atmosphere changed, becoming more intimate. The scent
of candles filled the air, casting a soft, warm glow across the room. Their eyes met, and in that
moment, the unspoken words between them were louder than any conversation they could have.
Without a word, they closed the distance between them, their bodies magnetically drawn
together. Their lips met in a passionate kiss, a union of souls that had been apart for too long. In
that moment, the world outside ceased to exist, and all that mattered was the intoxicating feeling
of being reunited.
Their connection was more than physical; it was spiritual, emotional, and transcendent. In each
other's arms, they found the missing pieces of their souls, completing a puzzle that only they
could solve. The intensity of their passion grew, a testament to the depth of their love and the
strength of their bond.
In the tender afterglow of their passionate reunion, Nance's voice trembled with sincerity as she
confessed her regret for the harsh words, she had uttered the previous Wednesday. "Raymond,"
she said, her eyes brimming with remorse, "I'm so sorry for what I said. I couldn't control my
emotions, and I lashed out at you. I didn't mean any of those words, and I deeply regret hurting
you."
Raymond, his gaze soft and understanding, reached out to gently caress her cheek. His touch was
a soothing balm to her wounded soul. "Nance," he said, his voice a gentle reassurance, "I
understand. We all have moments of weakness and say things we don't mean. I could see the
pain in your eyes, and I knew those words didn't come from your heart. I forgive you."
Nance felt an overwhelming rush of relief flood her being. The burden of her hurtful words lifted
as Raymond's forgiveness washed over her. For nights, she had tossed and turned, tormented by

the fear of losing him. The mere thought of him saying, "Let's break up," had been unbearable, a
nightmare she couldn't escape.
With Raymond's understanding and forgiveness, a deep sense of gratitude washed over her. It
was as if a heavy weight had been lifted from her heart, leaving behind a profound sense of
peace. The storm of her emotions settled, and she felt an immense gratitude for the love they
shared.
In that moment, Nance knew that their love was resilient, capable of weathering the storms that
life threw their way. She felt an unshakable confidence in their relationship, knowing that their
bond was strong enough to withstand even the hardest moment of their love.
With Raymond's forgiveness, Nance felt an unparalleled sense of peace. It was as if a heavy
burden had been lifted, allowing her to breathe freely again. The sleepless nights filled with
worry and fear were replaced by a deep sense of contentment. She knew then, with unwavering
certainty, that she had found someone who loved her unconditionally, flaws and all. And in his
forgiveness, she found the strength to forgive herself, embracing the promise of a love that could
overcome any obstacle.
Amidst the swirling rumors and the chilling glares of judgmental eyes, Nance stood as a steadfast
beacon of support in Raymond's life. The days seemed to merge into a seamless blur of academic
pursuits, but amidst the chaos, Nance was the one constant, a soothing presence in his turbulent
world. She understood the storm that raged within him and offered him the solace he so
desperately needed.
Nance's kindness became a sanctuary, a safe haven where he could breathe freely, unburden his
soul, and experience the fleeting moments of joy. As the moon cast an eerie glow through his

window, Raymond whispered to himself, "It is good to have a friend like her," his voice barely
audible in the haunting stillness of the night.
Their bond deepened with each passing day, evolving into a friendship that defied the
malevolence of the outside world. Nance's words were not just words; they were spells, casting
away the darkness that threatened to consume him. In her presence, he began to feel the warmth
of life seeping back into his veins, a stark contrast to the cold void that had once resided within
him.
Amidst the chilling winds of judgment and the icy stares of their peers, Nance's friendship
became his refuge. She held his hand, not just in friendship, but in solidarity against the
relentless storm. Together, they weathered the hostility of the world, finding strength in each
other's presence.
Their study sessions became more than just academic pursuits; they became rituals of resilience,
a testament to their determination to rise above the cruelty of their surroundings. Nance's
unwavering support and encouragement fueled his spirit, propelling him to excel academically.
Their combined efforts transformed them into an unstoppable force, overcoming challenges with
unwavering determination.
In the face of adversity, Nance and Raymond stood united, their friendship serving as a beacon
of hope in the darkness. Their bond, forged in the crucible of hardship, blossomed into an
unbreakable connection, defying the sinister forces that sought to tear them apart. And as they
faced the eerie nights together, their shared strength became a force to be reckoned with, a
haunting reminder to those who dared to underestimate the power of resilience and genuine
friendship.

Veronica Philemon, the enigmatic operative, moved with precision and grace, her every step
echoing the training of a seasoned agent. With the sun's harsh rays glinting off her sunglasses,
she wore a black coat, perfectly tailored for stealth, and sturdy boots that carried her silently
across the floors. Her attire exuded a sense of authority and mystery, befitting her covert status.
She skillfully navigated the labyrinthine corridors of the seemingly ancient building, a testament
to her familiarity with the shadows. Avoiding the prying eyes of security cameras, she slipped
through the back door, vanishing into the obscurity of the clandestine world she inhabited.
Her journey led her through a series of agent-style paths, where she expertly evaded any
potential obstacles. Moving swiftly and silently, she crossed dimly lit hallways and accessed
hidden tunnels. With each step, her determination only intensified, a testament to her unwavering
resolve.
Emerging on the other side of St. Whatson Street, Veronica's eyes remained sharp, her senses
heightened to detect any signs of surveillance. Guided by her instincts, she made her way
towards the unassuming building marked with the letters NIA. The National Intelligence Agency
– a place known to few, but familiar territory for someone of her caliber.
Avoiding the watchful gaze of security cameras, Veronica slipped into the underground tunnel,
following a route known only to a select few. Her movements were deliberate, each stride
purposeful as she expertly negotiated the twists and turns of the concealed passage. The darkness
became her ally, shrouding her in secrecy as she ventured deeper into the heart of the covert
world.
With silent determination, she ascended upwards in the discreet elevator, her destination clear in
her mind. Behind her sunglasses, her eyes glinted with a mix of steely resolve and calculated

intelligence. As she approached her objective, her focus remained unwavering, ready to face
whatever challenges lay ahead in the pursuit of her mission.
Nick Calman: (voice filled with disbelief and urgency) Veronica Philemon, the most elusive
name on our list. I never thought I'd see the day you'd voluntarily step into the lion's den. What's
your game here?
Veronica Philemon: (her demeanor steely, eyes locked onto Nick's) No games, Calman. I have
valuable information, and I need your help to survive. My son and I are in grave danger, and I've
decided to come forward with what I know.
Nick Calman: (skeptical, scanning her face for any signs of deceit) Why should I believe you?
You've been a ghost for years, pretending to be a doctor huh! Now suddenly, you want
protection? What's in it for you?
Veronica Philemon: (raising an eyebrow, her grip on the gun unwavering) Survival. That's my
bottom line. I've seen things, dangerous things, and I've had enough. I'm offering you a chance to
dismantle BMO and expose the corruption within. But in return, I need your assurance that my
son and I will be safe.
Nick Calman: (pausing, realizing the gravity of the situation) You're asking for a lot, Philemon.
We're talking about dismantling an entire organization here. How do I know you won't use this
information against us?
Veronica Philemon: (her eyes hardening, her voice chilling) You don't. But I'm taking a risk
coming here. Give me three minutes to lay out my terms, or I walk out that door and your chance
to bring down BMO dies with me.
Nick Calman: (swallowing hard, his mind racing) Three minutes, Philemon. Make it quick, and it
better be worth it.

Veronica Philemon: (nodding, her tone cold and calculated) First, I want the execution order on
me and my son revoked. Secondly, I want all charges against us dropped. We become invisible
to the law. Lastly, I want immunity for everything I share with you. Total protection for my
cooperation.
Nick Calman: (leaning back, his eyes narrowing) Immunity? You're asking for a lot, considering
your history. What guarantee do we have that you won't double-cross us once you're out of this
mess?
Veronica Philemon: (her lips curling into a sinister smile) You don't. That's where trust comes in,
Calman. And I assure you, my survival instincts are unmatched. Cross me, and you won't live
long enough to regret it.
Nick Calman: (feeling the chill in her words, he knew he was dealing with a ruthless player)
Fine, Philemon. You have your immunity and protection. But in return, I want every last piece of
information you have on BMO, their leaders, operations, and anyone involved. And you will
become our informant, deep undercover, working solely for us.
Veronica Philemon: (smirking, her eyes glinting with hidden intentions) Agreed, Calman. You
won't be disappointed. Now, make the calls. Let the powers above know that Veronica Philemon
is no longer a ghost, but their worst nightmare turned informant.
In that moment, Nick Calman realized that he had just made a deal with the devil. The room
seemed to close in around him, the weight of the impending storm settling heavily on his
shoulders. The line between ally and adversary blurred, and the game they were playing had
stakes higher than he'd ever imagined.

In the dimly lit room, Nick Calman felt his heart pounding in his chest, his palms sweaty, and his
throat dry. The sight of Veronica Philemon, poised and lethal, had rattled him to his core. His
once-confident demeanor had crumbled, leaving him vulnerable and exposed.
Veronica, with a sinister smile playing on her lips, slowly stepped back toward the door, her gun
still trained on Calman. Her eyes bore into his, and he could almost feel the venom in her gaze.
She was a predator, and he was her prey.
Calman, his fear tangible, loosened his tie, his breaths coming out in ragged gasps. He couldn't
believe the audacity of the situation – a woman he barely knew had him at her mercy, and his
agency was none the wiser. He took a hesitant step forward, realizing that he was walking on a
thin line between life and death.
Veronica's smile widened, the poison in it palpable. She was a master manipulator, expertly
disguising her true intentions behind a facade of calmness. Calman knew he had to tread
carefully; one wrong move, and he'd be facing the wrath of a woman with nothing left to lose.
With calculated precision, Veronica made her exit, leaving Calman's office without a trace.
Calman, left alone, pressed the alert button below his desk, hoping for backup. Little did he
know that his agency was already compromised, and the news of their boss being kidnapped and
forced into a deal would send shockwaves through the entire organization.
Veronica Philemon was a force to be reckoned with – a ticking time bomb ready to explode at
any moment. As she vanished into the shadows, she left behind a chilling warning: "You won't
see it coming." The implications of her actions would soon ripple through the world of covert
operations, leaving everyone on edge, wondering what would happen next.

Raymond was acutely aware of the watchful eyes that followed his every move. Police officers,
investigating the case of his parents, seemed to be everywhere he turned. But he was no ordinary
target; his training had honed his senses, allowing him to discern their surveillance tactics and
stay one step ahead. Their relentless pursuit aimed to find any illegal activity, creating a case not
just against him, but his family and their entire organization. Raymond knew that allowing this to
happen was not an option.
Meanwhile, Uncle Sam, the guiding force in Raymond's life, had taken refuge in the depths of
the house's basement. Hidden away from prying eyes, he traversed the city through an intricate
network of tunnels, connecting Raymond's sanctuary to the outside world. In this clandestine
space, Uncle Sam continued to be Raymond's mentor and protector.
Within the confines of the basement, Uncle Sam imparted invaluable knowledge. He delved into
the intricacies of various weapons, teaching Raymond not only how they functioned but also
how to wield them effectively. These clandestine training sessions became Raymond's lifeline,
equipping him with the skills needed to navigate the dangerous game that unfolded around him.
As Raymond absorbed this training, he knew he was preparing himself for an uncertain future,
where every move could be a matter of life or death.

Raymond Philemon at one of his daily sessions from his Uncle Sam.
Raymond's training under Uncle Sam's watchful eye was comprehensive and relentless. Every
conceivable weapon found its way into Raymond's skillset. Even if a weapon was unavailable,
the theoretical knowledge behind its operation became ingrained in Raymond's mind. His
training knew no bounds; there wasn't a single weapon he couldn't learn to master.
Target shooting, agility, flexibility—Raymond honed every skill essential to becoming a lethal
force. He transformed into an efficient killing machine, dedicating his life to these rigorous
sessions. Each training became a stepping stone toward enhancing his physical prowess, mental
fortitude, and tactical expertise. Raymond's unwavering determination pushed him to continually
improve, molding him into the best version of himself.
Amidst this dark and intense training, Nance Williams remained oblivious to the shadows that
lurked within Raymond. He took great care to shield her from this side of his life, guarding their

relationship against potential harm. Yet, he was aware that he couldn't keep this hidden forever.
Time was ticking, and the truth was bound to surface.
Despite the darkness that surrounded him, Raymond found solace in the love he shared with
Nance. He cherished their connection and was determined to ensure she only knew his best side.
His focus remained on excelling in his training, all the while safeguarding their relationship from
the looming shadows of his hidden life.
"In the heart of darkness, where secrets lurk and shadows dance, alliances are tested and loyalties
torn. In the hushed corners of power, where whispers echo louder than screams, a battle of wills
unfolds, and the line between survival and destruction blurs."
The scene unfolds at the Regional Police Office, where RCO Salum Motoko senses the weight of
the information that has landed in their hands. An urgent notification tag beeps incessantly,
carrying secrets that could shatter the very foundation of BMO. With a stern expression, RCO
Motoko issues strict orders to keep this intel guarded, for leaking it could bring chaos to their
operation.
Unbeknownst to the police officers, BMO's influence runs deep, infiltrating even the most secure
corners of the police station. A computer expert, visibly anxious, heads toward the bathroom,
clutching his phone tightly. His trembling fingers dial an unsaved number, a lifeline to the
dangerous world of BMO. On the other end of the line, a heavy voice demands confirmation: is
this intel genuine, or just another elaborate setup?
The computer expert, fear etched in his voice, relays the truth. A beep, a mere few seconds ago,
had heralded the arrival of information that could dismantle BMO from within. Threats resonate
through the phone, reminding him of the stakes. His family's safety hangs in the balance,

tethered to his collaboration. The air thickens with tension as the ominous voice on the other end
leaves no room for negotiation, casting a shadow over the very essence of trust and betrayal.
You look weird, are you okay Kennedy? A woman co, worker at the police station asked him,
after he saw him rushing to the bathroom a few minutes ago, now coming from the bathroom, his
blood pressure seemingly high as he exhaled heavily, and every part of his body sweating despite
the low temperature AC set.
It's just my stomach thing has started again, he defended. His eyes showing fear that was very
vivid.
Kennedy asked Margareth, will you help me if I tell you something as a friend?
Margareth said, no doubt Kennedy, you can ask me anything you want.
Kennedy asked Margareth to follow him, they walked upstairs up to the corridor which seemed
to be off spot.
Kennedy, looking so terrified told Margareth that, he is expecting to get Married to the coming
two months, and his wife is pregnant. For the past two days", he continued, two unknown guys
got into his car unknowingly and asked him to do exactly as they commanded, they wanted him
to report to them every move the police officers make in exchange for the life of him and his
pregnant wife. A man does anything for his family's safety, right? He asked
Margareth, replied yes, that's right. While trying to calm him down, he asked him, who else
know about this?
Kennedy replied, he told no one else other than her
Margareth, after Kennedy told her that he had told no one else, glanced around to ensure no one
was watching. Kennedy's eyes widened in surprise as he noticed her cautious behavior. He asked
her with a puzzled expression, "What are you doing, Margareth?"

Kennedy's eyes widened in shock and fear as Margareth's actions unfolded before him. He
couldn't believe what he was seeing. "Margareth, why?" he stammered, his voice trembling with
disbelief and desperation.
Margareth's expression remained cold and determined. "I'm sorry, Kennedy," she said, her voice
steady despite the gravity of the situation. "But they have my family too. I have no choice." She
tightened her grip on the pistol, her finger hovering over the trigger.
Kennedy felt a wave of despair wash over him as he realized the depth of the deception. He had
trusted Margareth with his life, and now she was the one holding the gun aimed at his head. His
mind raced, trying to find a way out of this nightmare, but he knew he was trapped, caught in a
web of betrayal and intrigue.
As Margareth pulled the trigger, the pistol emitted a soft, muffled click, almost like the sound of
snapping fingers. Kennedy's eyes widened in disbelief. There was no deafening bang, just an
eerie silence that hung in the air. Coldness washed over him, and he gasped for air, realizing he
had only few seconds till his death took him.
The sensation of coldness spread from all over his body
He felt an overwhelming heaviness, as if an invisible weight pressed down upon him. His
heartbeat, once strong and steady, now faltered like a dying drumbeat.
Images of his family flickered in his mind – Everlin's radiant smile, the laughter of his unborn
child that he would never hear, the warmth of their home that he would never return to. Regret
and sorrow washed over him, mingling with the fear that gripped his fading consciousness.
In those fleeting moments, he found himself desperately yearning for more time – time to hold
his wife once more, time to witness the birth of his child, time to say the words left unsaid. But

fate had other plans, and as the world grew darker, Kennedy succumbed to the finality of his
destiny, leaving behind a life tragically cut short.
In a calculated frenzy, Margareth swiftly dismantled the gun, removing the silencer with
practiced ease. With meticulous precision, she cleaned the weapon and, without a trace of
hesitation, placed it in Kennedy's lifeless hand. She then retreated to the bathroom, where a vial
of potent acid awaited her.
Carefully, she poured the acid over the silencer tube, watching as it dissolved into nothingness,
leaving behind no evidence of its existence. The sink bore no marks of the deadly encounter that
had just taken place within the room.
Returning to the mirror, Margareth met her own gaze, a chilling smile curling her lips. Satisfied
that she had erased any remnants of the crime, she meticulously wiped away the bloodstains
from her clothes, leaving no hint of her involvement.
With cold determination, she composed a cryptic message on her phone: "Loose ties have been
handled. They have everything to tear down BMO." The words were sent into the digital abyss, a
harbinger of chaos and destruction.
Masking her emotions behind a facade of normalcy, Margareth calmly returned to her computer
desk. As she resumed her work, no one would suspect the darkness that lurked beneath her
composed demeanor. The threads of deception were expertly woven, leaving behind an illusion
of innocence in the wake of her lethal actions.
Margareth glanced at the vacant seat that once belonged to Kennedy. With a disdainful tone, she
muttered, "You should have done it, you wouldn't be dead". Her words hung in the air, a chilling

reminder of the ruthlessness that had just unfolded within the police station. Unbeknownst to
everyone around her, Margareth continued her charade, concealing her dark secrets behind a
mask of normalcy.
Amid the ongoing CCTV camera installation at the police station, a technician strolled down the
corridor, unaware of the sinister events unfolding around him. Suddenly, screams pierced the air,
echoing through the station's halls. The shrill sound of an alarm reverberated, alerting everyone
to the grave incident that had occurred within the walls of the seemingly secure police station.
Panic spread like wildfire, and the atmosphere became thick with fear and uncertainty as officers
and staff members rushed to comprehend the shocking news.
RCO Salum Motoko's voice was strained as he spoke into the phone, relaying the grim news to
NIA Chief Operator Nick Calman. "Kennedy has been found dead," he said, his words heavy
with sorrow. "We're awaiting the ballistic report to determine whose gun he used."
On the other side of the phone, Nick Calman's voice tightened with tension, "I don't want any
leaks, Salum. This could be connected to the ongoing BMO investigation. We can't afford any
slip-ups."
"I understand the gravity of the situation," RCO Salum affirmed, his voice resolute. "I'll make
sure the station is locked down, and no information escapes these walls."
"Good," Nick Calman responded, his tone leaving no room for error. "Keep me updated, Salum.
And remember, we're in this together."

As RCO Salum hung up the phone, he felt the weight of the responsibility that now rested on his
shoulders. The station buzzed with activity, but an undercurrent of fear and suspicion permeated
the air, reminding everyone that danger lurked in the shadows.
In the confined space of the police station, an air of foreboding settled as RCO Salum Motoko's
authoritative commands sliced through the atmosphere. The lockdown protocol clamped down
like an iron fist, cutting off any potential escape routes for those trapped inside. The surrender of
phones and transmitting devices echoed like a chilling mandate, emphasizing the gravity of the
situation.
"Initiate the lockdown protocol immediately. Phones and transmitting devices—surrender them
now. No exceptions," his voice resonated with a calculated firmness that brooked no
disobedience.
Margareth, her professional demeanor momentarily shattered by fear, covertly typed a plea for
backup on her phone, hoping for a lifeline amid the escalating crisis. Unbeknownst to her, the IT
expert in the room, with a keen eye for anomalies, swiftly detected the live transmission
originating from her device.
"Sir, live transmission detected in this room," the IT expert reported crisply, his fingers moving
across the keyboard with the precision of a seasoned professional.
the IT expert's voice wavered slightly, the weight of the discovery pressing upon her shoulders.
Margareth, now fully aware of her vulnerability, felt the room closing in around her. Every
keystroke reverberated with a sense of impending doom, each tap on the keyboard akin to a
countdown timer ticking away the moments before her secrets would be exposed.
On the screen, the word "Matched" appeared ominously, casting a shadow over the room. It was
as if the digital realm had woven a web around Margareth, connecting her actions to Kennedy's

coerced collaboration with the BMO. As the truth unfurled, the room seemed to tighten its grip,
squeezing the breath out of Margareth’s lungs and leaving her paralyzed with fear.
In the dimly lit room, the weight of defeat settled heavily on Margareth's shoulders as RCO
Salum's firm voice cut through the silence. With trembling hands, she placed her phone down, its
screen displaying a message that crushed the last glimmer of hope within her. The bitter taste of
betrayal filled the air as even those who had once coerced her had now abandoned her to her fate.
Tears streaked down her face, marking her anguish and despair. The handcuffs, a symbol of her
newfound captivity, dangled ominously in front of her. Each click of the metal against her skin
resonated with the finality of her situation, leaving her broken and defeated.
The IT expert, his fingers flying across the keyboard, attempted to breach the encrypted
communication systems used by BMO, but the organization's defenses proved impenetrable.
Their advanced technology thwarted every attempt, leaving the investigators grasping at digital
shadows.
As Margareth was escorted to the interrogating room, she glanced back at her phone, now a mere
reminder of her downfall. The stark reality of her actions bore down on her, and guilt clawed at
her conscience. In the echoing silence of the police station, her footsteps echoed with a sense of
resignation, the once confident and composed woman now reduced to a shattered soul.
RCO Salum's call to the NIA Chief Operator resonated with finality, sealing Margareth's fate as
he reported, "We have the killer, sir." The words hung heavily in the air, marking the end of
Margareth's ill-fated journey, and the beginning of her reckoning.
In a matter of minutes, the ominous arrival of three NIA agents, riding heavily armed vehicles,
shattered the uneasy calm outside the police station. With precision, they swiftly apprehended

Margareth Cosmas, binding her to a fate dictated by shadowy forces. The heavy security detail
that surrounded her emphasized the gravity of her situation as she was led toward an unknown
destination — the clandestine depths of the NIA's operating black sites.
Upon her arrival at the undisclosed location, Margareth found herself in a disorienting
environment. The blinding intensity of focused lights bore down on her, adding to her frustration
and confusion. The remnants of the anesthesia she had been induced with continued to cloud her
senses, leaving her vulnerable and unaware of her surroundings. In this disorienting state, she
grappled with the uncertainty of her fate, her life hanging precariously in the balance.
Facing a barrage of grave charges, including the murder of her coworker Kennedy Martin,
breaching National intelligence, collaborating with the notorious BMO — deemed the number
one potential threat to the United States of Dane — counted as treason, Margareth found herself
at the mercy of the law. The weight of her alleged crimes threatened not only her own freedom
but also the safety of her fellow police station members.
In a desperate bid to shield her family from the impending storm, the NIA offered Margareth a
lifeline: if she cooperated fully, divulging everything she knew about BMO, they would grant her
family custody protection. In return, Margareth would face a reduced sentence of 15 years in
prison, sparing her from the looming threat of a lethal injection.
With her family's safety hanging in the balance, Margareth made the difficult choice to
collaborate with the NIA. She shared every morsel of information she possessed about BMO,
hoping that her cooperation would not only protect her loved ones but also contribute to
dismantling the dangerous criminal organization she had once been a part of. The decision

weighed heavily on her conscience, but it was a gamble she had to take to ensure the safety of
those she held dear.
In the dimly lit basement, the atmosphere was heavy with tension. Uncle Sam, the seasoned
agent, felt the weight of responsibility bearing down on him. He was being coerced to accelerate
Raymond's training, forced into a situation where time was a luxury they couldn't afford.
The commanding voice of the higher-ups echoed in his mind, urging him to expedite Raymond's
preparedness for the imminent missions. Every passing moment felt like a countdown, each
second ticking away relentlessly, leaving Uncle Sam with a gnawing sense of urgency.
Uncle Sam glanced at Raymond, the young recruit who was now thrust into an accelerated
training regimen. The pressure was palpable, and Uncle Sam knew he had to push Raymond to
the limits of his abilities, forging him into a capable agent in a fraction of the time it usually
took.
As Uncle Sam meticulously planned the intensive training sessions, he couldn't shake off the
feeling of being trapped between the demands of his superiors and the need to ensure Raymond's
readiness. The coming days held the promise of challenges that could make or break them, and
Uncle Sam was acutely aware that failure was not an option. Time was running out, and they had
to be prepared for whatever awaited them on the horizon.
In the shadowy depths of the basement, Uncle Sam received a chilling message from the BMO
commanding sector. The authoritative voice on the other end of the line delivered ominous news:
Professor Adams Solmon, a figure of great significance within BMO, was scheduled to arrive the

following day. Uncle Sam's heart sank; he knew this meant their time was running out, and the
stakes had never been higher.
Uncle Sam was given a grave task: he had to orchestrate Professor Solmon's arrival and ensure
Raymond Philemon was not only prepared but also up to the daunting standards set by BMO.
The pressure intensified as Uncle Sam contemplated the consequences of failure; there was no
room for mistakes, no margin for error.
The commanding voice continued, cold and unyielding, emphasizing the severity of the
situation. If Raymond Philemon proved unable to meet the demands placed upon him, the order
was clear: execution, swift and final. It was a stark reminder of the ruthless world they were
entangled in, where knowledge could be a deadly burden, and trust was a luxury they couldn't
afford.
Uncle Sam's mind raced, contemplating the grave reality of their circumstances. He understood
the gravity of the task ahead, realizing that failure meant not only Raymond's demise but also
potentially catastrophic consequences for both of them. The weight of this knowledge settled
heavily upon Uncle Sam's shoulders as he prepared himself and Raymond for the arrival of
Professor Adams Solmon, knowing that their fate hung in the balance.
Uncle Sam's gaze fell upon Raymond, a young man caught in the merciless grip of forces far
beyond his control. The weight of the situation bore down on Raymond's shoulders, and the
vulnerability in his eyes mirrored the harsh reality they faced. Uncle Sam recognized the cruel
truth: powerful individuals manipulated their lives like pawns on a chessboard, and a mere phone
call held the power to snuff out Raymond's existence without his knowledge.
In that moment, Uncle Sam felt a surge of determination. He couldn't allow this fate to befall the
young man before him. With a steely resolve, Uncle Sam vowed to train and protect Raymond to

the best of his abilities. He understood that in this treacherous game, the only chance they had
was to empower Raymond, arming him with the skills and knowledge necessary to navigate the
dangerous labyrinth of their circumstances. As he looked at the young man, Uncle Sam silently
swore to guide him, hoping against hope that together, they could defy the sinister forces that
sought to control their lives.
“Tomorrow, Prof. Adams salmon will be here. He will teach you about psychology, stuffs
relating to on how your mind works, how to manage stress, filtering your emotions, techniques
of holding secrets and the ability to see things clearly even at the darkest times of your life. He is
the best Psychologist we had in our organization; further details would be handled to you when
he arrived” uncle Sam said to Raymond.
(Raymond, with a sorry face and a hint of desperation in his eyes): “But this is my holiday, and
Christmas is approaching, Uncle. How do you think that will be possible? I will need some time
to spend with my friends. Isn’t that the normal way of life?” He tried to defend himself, his voice
quivering slightly under the weight of his plea.
(Uncle Sam, his gaze piercing and voice unwavering, speaking impulsively with a tinge of
frustration): “Do you think no one dislikes having precious time with those he/she loves? Do you
know how cautiously we have been living to secure the organization from collapsing?” His
words hung heavily in the air, filling the room with an unspoken tension.
(Uncle Sam, with a grave expression and a tone filled with honesty): "Raymond, something
urgent has occurred involving our mole at the police station. It's a dangerous situation, and you
can't afford to be there without proper training. I need you to understand the gravity of our

circumstances. If you fail to cope with the training speed, I'm afraid they won't hesitate to
execute you. And it won't always be by my hand; there are powerful people involved, people
whose reach extends far beyond what I can fathom. Your life is at stake, and we must be
prepared for whatever may come."
(Raymond, realizing the gravity of the situation, lowered his gaze and replied with
determination, his voice shaky but resolute): “I understand, Uncle Sam. I just... I fear losing
touch with the life I used to know, the simple joys of the holidays. But if this is what it takes to
protect what matters, I'll do it. I won't let my personal desires jeopardize our mission.” His words
were laced with a mix of fear and determination, reflecting the internal struggle he was
experiencing.
(Uncle Sam, seeing the determination in Raymond's eyes, softened his expression slightly, his
tone a blend of reassurance and concern): "I appreciate your understanding, Raymond. It's not an
easy path we tread, but your resilience will define our success. Remember, even in the midst of
our responsibilities, we find strength in each other. Now, let's focus on preparing for Professor
Adams Solmon's arrival. We must ensure you're ready for whatever challenges lie ahead."
Despite his attempt to reassure Raymond, there was an underlying unease, a sense of impending
danger that hung thick in the air.
Raymond stood in his room, phone in hand, anxiety etched on his face.
(Raymond, sounding strained): "Nance, I'm really sorry, but something urgent has come up
regarding my parents' case. The police need me at the station frequently. It's unexpected, and I
can't avoid it," Raymond said, his voice heavy with the weight of the situation.

(Nance, concerned): "Raymond, is everything alright? You sound... off. Is there something
you're not telling me?" Nance's worry was palpable, even though the phone line, as she sensed
his distress.
(Raymond, trying to reassure her): "I'm just stressed about this situation, Nance. I promise I'll
explain everything soon. I wish I could spend the holiday with you, but it's just impossible right
now," he replied, attempting to convey his regret over the phone.
(Nance, feeling terrified): "Raymond, please be careful. I can sense this urgency in your voice,
and it scares me. Just promise me you'll stay safe, okay?" Her concern for his safety was evident,
making her voice tremble with fear.
(Raymond, with a hint of sadness): "I promise, Nance. I'll do my best to handle this situation. I'll
call you as soon as I can. I love you," he said, his words laced with a mix of determination and
affection.
(Nance, softly): "I love you too, Ray. Just... please come back to me in one piece." Her words
hung in the air, laden with love and fear, encapsulating the depth of her emotions for him.
It was Sunday 21st dec, 2003 when the psychologist Prof. Adams Salmon arrived at the basement
via the entrance tunnel. Soon after arrival, He started the session with Raymond. Things were
easy to him since he had the knowledge about the subject, he was about to teach him. Raymond
has Psychology stuffs at the university along the medicine course. The only slight difference was
Prof. Adams taught him more practically. Raymond mastered his subjects so fast and he was
good at them.
“Sir Samwel, his scores are good. The kid shows a promising future in leading this
organization’’. said Prof. Addams Salmon to Uncle Sam.

Raymond liked it but this sentence terrified him “The kid shows the promising future”, he did
not understand it. “Does that mean I’ am prepared for something big?”, he asked myself.
Two months have passed since the last time Raymond saw his mother. He didn’t know what
happened to her. He didn’t know if she was okay or not, it has been unsolved mystery. Each time
he was visiting the RCO office to ask for her whereabouts he was given the same answers “we
are still working on the case; I case we find anything linking to her you will be informed”.
Raymond stepped out of the office and stepped into the car which was sent by Uncle Sam to pick
him up. Each time he was visiting RCO office without them noticing anything, he had a very
little cameras that were planted around his clothes buttons.
He was about to visit RCO office. BMO engineers have designed very technological thumb
drives [Universal Serial Bus, USB] that resembled to Normal pen’s cap when looked from
outside. It’s designing is so unique. I opened it, and inside the cap, it is an USB that can neither
be detected nor sensed.
“Can I have a cup of tea, please?”, Ray asked the RCO.
So, he had to walk out of his office and that was the right time for his mission that led him there
that day. He inserted it into one of the RCO’s offices computers as instructed and copy every file
at the police station. After doing that, he took it back, close the pen’s cap. RCO came back to his
office (With an empathic face): “Sorry kid. The girl who delivers coffee to our station is
somewhat busy”, said RCO
(Smiling): “Okay, thanks for your kindness. I hope she will be there on my next visit”
(Smiling) “Yeah…Yeah…she’ll be there.”

Raymond moved out of the police’s office unnoticed of what he did. The job was so easy since
the cameras that have been installed recently still, they weren’t functional. The inserted USB
scans each any everything from one of the computers, copying it and transmit the information to
one of the communication rooms in one among of the BMO’s safe houses.
USB driver’s pen that I used to snitch Police’s classified files
They had two technical guys who worked on them and look for anything that the police might
know about our organization. Thus why, they have been one step further than the police officers,
and thus why BMO organization has been into the shades and remained like the fairytale. Two
technical guys, Abood steven and Alen Maseko dropped, at the KITO INTERNATIONAL
AIRPORT, KIA from Al-Sahra' Desert, El Capto Country, and Uncle Sam went to pick them. He
made sure no one was after them. They pass to the scanner that was at the door prior to the main
entrance to the underground tunnel. Things were okay till this time.
“Where’s the drive” Abood steven asked, who seemed to be the main IT expert. They both
graduated from Desmon university. He took the drive and inserted it into one of the computer’s
portal USB entries. All of the fines were encrypted and therefore in order to access them, the
computer expert must either be a highly trained individual or the one with the access. This is why

BMO has been offering scholarships to some type of people and trained to be their working
vessel. “It will take half an hour to de-encrypt the files” Abood steven said. So, they had to wait
while he kept de-encrypting the files. It was a tiresome work which required a genius mind to do
it. Before 30 minutes lapsed, Abood and his assistant de-encrypted the files. They had a lot of
cases that were not linking to our organization. They kept looking each of the files with accuracy
though it took us several hours. There was nothing sounding suspicious till we reached the files
written “CLASSIFIED”.
One of the CLASSIFIED Document about BMO found within the police stolen files
They had more encryptions than the previous files we saw. Abood steven and Alen Maseko kept
working on them. I was just looking at them, the way their fingers were moving on the computer
keyboards was so interesting. Uncle Sam noticed the way I was impressed with them.
“There’s no one who is special in the world, we just differ in the extent we use our talents.”, He
said
“I believe everyone is different, and our differences make us special”, I replied
(Laughing): “How do you define those differences?”
(Looking curious): “Anything that differentiate you from the person next to you”
“Suppose, I’ am Diabetes positive and you are negative. How does having diabetes make me
special?”
“Diabetes, while a health challenge, doesn’t solely define you. It’s a part of your story that
shapes your resilience and unique perspective”
(Laughing): “So, Mr. Raymond, if our differences, even health conditions contribute to our
collective human experience showcasing our ability to overcome adversity and inspiring others,
how is talent or anything else become special?”
“True talent isn’t just about innate abilities; it’s also about how we navigate and excel in life
despite the challenges we face”
“Oh…I see. So, you’re saying that everyone’s unique challenges are their talents?
“Not exactly. I’m saying our unique challenges can lead to talents, but more importantly, they
make us individuals with diverse perspectives that enrich our society”
“Alright, I see your point. Our differences do add depth to the human experience”
“Exactly, and embracing these differences with empathy and understanding makes us a more
inclusive and compassionate society.
The computer beeped a certain signal that indicated files de-encryption was complete. The
encrypted files were talking about BMO organization and it had a lot of information about our
organization.
“Anything on the files that’s new?”, Uncle Sam asked the computer experts.

Abood Steven sat in a dimly lit room, his eyes glued to the computer screen, where an encrypted
file titled "Project Shadow Strike" flickered ominously. The room was heavy with tension, as if
the air itself knew the gravity of the secrets being unveiled. As the file unraveled its dark
contents, Abood's eyes widened in horror. The screen illuminated his face, casting eerie shadows
across his features. The classified document revealed a sinister collaboration between the NIA,
The Black cats, the executioners. Their mission: to execute BMO leaders and dismantle the
organization from within.


Uncle Sam, normally composed and confident, appeared visibly shaken. His hands trembled as
he grasped the edge of the table, struggling to comprehend the magnitude of what they had just
stumbled upon.
Their eyes met, reflecting a mix of fear, disbelief, and a growing realization of the darkness that
loomed over them. The revelation that Veronica Philemon was entangled in this covert web sent
shivers down their spines, painting a chilling portrait of deception, loyalty, and the terrifying
power plays of the intelligence world.
In that tense moment, a collective gasp filled the room as the truth about Veronica Philemon's
betrayal reverberated among the BMO members. The atmosphere turned icy, and the once
vibrant room now felt like a cage of apprehension. Faces, once illuminated by trust, now wore
expressions of disbelief and fear. The bond they shared, built on loyalty and mutual respect, had
been shattered by the revelation that one of their most trusted colleagues had turned into a snitch,
collaborating with the NIA, their sworn enemy.
The room, once filled with the hum of teamwork and dedication, was now engulfed in a somber
silence. The BMO members exchanged glances, searching for answers in each other's eyes.
Questions lingered in the air, reflecting their shared sense of vulnerability. How could they trust
again? Doubt gnawed at the core of their unity, leaving them on edge and questioning the very
foundation of their mission. The fear of further infiltration loomed large, casting a shadow over
their once unshakeable confidence.
Raymond's voice broke the heavy silence in the room, his question hanging in the air like a
ghostly whisper, haunting the minds of his fellow members. "What if this whole thing is a set
up?" he asked, his words echoing off the walls, each syllable dripping with uncertainty and fear.

Alen Maseko, his eyes ablaze with hostility, advanced towards Raymond, his footsteps echoing
ominously in the hushed atmosphere. "Or you are not any different from your mother," he
retorted, the words landing like a sharp slap, intensifying the fear that had already gripped
Raymond's heart.
The room seemed to close in around them, the shadows deepening as if to engulf them in an
abyss of doubt and suspicion. Raymond felt a shiver crawl up his spine, a cold sweat breaking
out on his forehead. The question he had posed now reverberated in his own mind, amplifying
his sense of dread.
The flickering light above cast eerie shadows, distorting the features of his fellow members,
making them appear almost otherworldly. The fear in the room was palpable, a tangible entity
that seemed to seep into their very souls, casting a sinister pall over their existence. In that
moment, Raymond realized he was on the precipice of a truth that could shatter his world,
leaving him in a terrifying abyss of uncertainty.
Uncle Sam's voice sliced through the tension in the room, commanding attention and silencing
the murmurs that had begun to rise. "Stop!" he boomed, his tone cutting through the heavy air
like a thunderclap. The room fell into an uneasy stillness.
His eyes moved between the faces of his team members, each expression reflecting a mix of fear,
confusion, and suspicion. "Maybe Raymond is right," he began, his voice grave, carrying the
weight of the truth he was about to reveal. The words hung in the air, pregnant with the ominous
knowledge that something sinister was unfolding.

He continued, his words dropping like heavy stones in a pond, creating ripples of dread. "For the
past few days, BMO headquarters offered a staggering $150 million to the Black cats, the
executioners, to eliminate Veronica Philemon." The revelation hung in the air, a chilling
testament to the depths of BMO's ruthlessness.
Uncle Sam's accusatory finger pointed directly at Raymond, emphasizing the gravity of his next
words. "They also issued an order to execute you," he said, his voice steady but laced with
urgency, "in case you won't cope with the current stressful situation." The room seemed to close
in around them, the walls whispering the imminent danger that lurked just beyond their
sanctuary. Fearful eyes darted between one another, realizing the magnitude of the threats that
now encircled them, leaving them teetering on the edge of a precipice, their survival hanging by
the thinnest of threads.
Uncle Sam's voice wavered, his words laced with a mix of desperation and disbelief. "Maybe
Veronica's approach was to fool us," he mused aloud, his mind racing to make sense of the
tangled web they found themselves in. His eyes, clouded with unshed tears, betrayed the turmoil
within, yet he refused to let them fall. The weight of the situation pressed upon him, threatening
to crush his resolve.
"I had known Veronica for years," he continued, his voice steady despite the emotional storm
raging beneath the surface. "She would never have been an NIA informer for all these years
unbeknownst to us." His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of a history shared. A
history that now seemed marred by betrayal and suspicion.

His gaze hardened, determination flickering in his eyes. "And if she was their CI [Criminal
informant] till this moment, why hasn't she brought them here, to this basement?" he questioned,
his voice sharp with the edge of doubt. The unspoken accusation lingered, casting a shadow over
the room. The truth seemed to dance just beyond their reach, elusive and taunting, leaving them
trapped in a maze of uncertainty and fear.
Raymond's voice cut through the heavy tension in the room, his words tinged with a mixture of
conviction and vulnerability. "Because she loves me," he replied, his voice unwavering despite
the tumultuous emotions swirling within him. His eyes held a flicker of hope, as if clinging to the
belief that love could be a beacon even in the darkest of times.
He pressed on, his words flowing with a strange blend of acceptance and suspicion. "Maybe she
was their informer all along," he continued, his tone contemplative. "Yet she wants to play both
sides." The room seemed to hold its breath as Raymond's mind worked through the intricate
possibilities. His words hung in the air, pregnant with uncertainty, echoing the complexities of
the situation they found themselves in.
In that moment, the basement felt like a battleground of emotions, where trust warred against
doubt, and love stood juxtaposed with betrayal. The truth remained elusive, obscured by the
shadows of the past and the uncertain future that loomed before them.
Raymond's words hung heavy in the air, each syllable laden with a mix of revelation and pain.
His voice trembled as he described the intricate web of possibilities that surrounded his mother's
actions. "Maybe," he said, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions, "she was
working with the NIA to infiltrate the BMO." The room seemed to shrink, suffocated by the
magnitude of his words. "Maybe she killed our major leaders, Philemon J Sapuka and Joshua

Shoko," he continued, his tone a fragile thread holding together a myriad of conflicting emotions.
"Maybe she wanted to protect me too."
In that moment, the room seemed to vibrate with the weight of a revelation that shook the very
foundation of Raymond's existence. His tears flowed freely now, unburdening his heart from the
anguish that had festered within. "Maybe," he continued, his voice breaking, "along the mission,
I was born unexpectedly." His words, uttered amidst tears and sorrow, carried the heavy burden
of a son torn between love and betrayal. "And she loved me anyway."
[Mad World
Song by Tears for Fears]
As Raymond delved deeper into the complex web of secrets and lies surrounding his mother's
involvement with BMO and NIA, he began to see a different side to her. He started to realize that
his mother wasn't inherently bad, but instead, she was caught in the crossfire of a dangerous
world.
Gradually, he became more awake to the reality of the situation. The dream he had long awaited
wasn't about becoming a part of BMO, but rather, it was a dream to tear down the very
organization that had caused so much pain and chaos in their lives. His perspective shifted, and
he found a newfound determination to uncover the truth and bring justice to those who had
wronged them.
With newfound determination burning in his eyes, Raymond knew he had to tread carefully
through the treacherous paths laid out before him. Every step he took had to be calculated, every
move meticulously planned. His goal was clear: to bring down the nefarious organization that
had wreaked havoc in their lives.

He understood the delicate balance he had to maintain – dismantling BMO while safeguarding
his own life. Each decision weighed heavily on his shoulders; every choice was a potential
turning point. Raymond had to navigate the murky waters of espionage, deception, and danger,
all while ensuring his own survival.
His mind became a battlefield of strategies and counter-strategies, where he had to outwit the
cunning minds of his adversaries. Every ally he made, every piece of information he gathered,
was a step towards unraveling the truth and dismantling the sinister web of BMO. Raymond
knew that the path ahead was fraught with peril, but he was prepared to face it head-on,
determined to bring justice to those who had wronged him and his family.

[ CHAPTER 4] - CHOICES
As RCO Salum Motoko meticulously orchestrated his plans to catch BMO, he was determined to
leave no stone unturned. With his sharp instincts and keen attention to detail, he noticed
something amiss in his own office. The keyboard of his office computer had mysteriously
malfunctioned, or so it seemed.
Recognizing the urgency of the situation, RCO Salum ordered his skilled IT expert, Philomena
Patric, to replace the malfunctioning keyboard. He feigned a need to attend the NSS (National
Security Summit) debriefing, creating a cover for his true intentions.
Philomena, a dedicated professional, nodded in agreement, displaying her unwavering loyalty to
her boss. She swiftly obtained a replacement keyboard from the Police Maintenance, Repair, and
Operations Department, eager to resolve the issue.
As she began setting up the new keyboard in RCO Salum's office, her sharp eyes caught
something unusual—a tiny implanted device, cleverly concealed and transmitting live
information. Her surprise was palpable as she realized the implications: a covert USB tool,
undetected by their systems, was feeding crucial data to BMO's operating room in the Basement
facility. The discovery sent shivers down her spine, making her acutely aware of the dangerous
game being played right under their noses.
Regional Crime officer Hon. RCO Salum Motoko had been chasing this organization for years
and that was the reason he was promoted to his current RCO position. He was after the
investigation of the 57 murdered people at the Leto Gold. Mining site that took place during the
Night of 20th, October 2003, Monday. Worry crept in because RCO Salum Motoko was no

ordinary law enforcement officer; he had proven to be highly resourceful and relentless. His
unwavering pursuit kept BMO members up night, knowing that any small slip could jeopardize
not only their freedom but also the legacy of the BMO had built. The confusion stemmed from
his unorthodox tactics and unpredictable moves. Salum Motoko seemed to anticipate BMO steps,
leaving Raymond wondering if there was a mole within their ranks or he was just good at his job.
This uncertainty added to the pressure.
Frustration gnawed at Philomena Patric as she tried to reach RCO Salum to inform him about the
covert device she had discovered. However, he remained unreachable, engrossed in the ongoing
meeting. Left with no choice but to adhere to protocol, she reluctantly decided to leave the
implanted device untouched. Despite her instincts urging her to take action, she understood the
importance of following orders and maintaining the façade of normalcy.
Meanwhile, in Ray's basement house, the covert operations of BMO continued with meticulous
precision. Uncle Sam, flanked by his two skilled IT experts, remained vigilant, tirelessly
deciphering the encrypted files obtained earlier. The atmosphere was tense, every keystroke
echoing the urgency of their mission. With every passing moment, the stakes grew higher, and
the need for caution became paramount. The weight of their responsibility hung heavily in the air
as they navigated the intricate web of secrets and deceptions that surrounded them.
“I want everything projected on the screen”, Uncle Sam ordered
“Yes sir”, Abood steven & Alen Maseko replied
“I want every BMO member receive a Notification alert. We are under investigation; therefore,
everything has to stay low for a while”, Uncle Sam ordered

The computer experts within the BMO were very skilled in crafting covert communication
systems. Uncle Sam told them to send the message to the BMO headquarters. To send the alert
message “LE MO N IS BITTER, GO FOR VACATION” in a way that only BMO members
could understand, they used a sophisticated coding system based on a set of rules and
substitutions. Only those familiar with the system and the specific situation within BMO could
decipher the true urgency and instructions embedded in the seemingly innocuous phrase.
The message meant
LE MO N; “Leto is under investigation, Execution |of| Motoko, Operation |is| on.
IS; 1 phase of A.S.R.A.A mission
BITTER; Before the day ends, IT, through email will deliver the next plan. Raymond will be at
this mission.
; the first part of the message concerns 5 agents [Abood steven, Samwel Julian, Raymond
Philemon, Alen Maseko, Prof. Adams Salmon].
LEMON IS BITTER; Things are bad
GO; plan G, phase 0 is next
FOR; No Further, operation |is| Referred
VACATION; Request for a meeting when the mission is completed
GO FOR VACATION; Initiate a pre-planned evacuation at the Leto Region.
RCO Salum's decision to ignore the missed calls from his coworker proved to be a grave
mistake, one that would haunt him in the days to come. Unaware of the urgent message she had

tried to convey, he left the meeting without a clue about the unfolding events at the police
station.
Feeling the weight of the day's proceedings, RCO Salum opted not to go to the police station
after the meeting. Instead, he headed straight home, seeking solace in the embrace of his family.
Exhausted, he spent some precious moments with his loved ones, sharing a quiet dinner together.
As the night wore on, the family retired to bed, unaware of the storm brewing in the shadows, a
storm that would soon engulf their lives in unexpected ways. Little did RCO Salum know that
his decision to ignore those missed calls would set off a chain of events that would challenge his
career and the safety of those he held dear.
RCO Salum Motoko was sleeping with his wife, and his daughter was sleeping in the next room.
He didn’t know anything about BMO's invasion. He was unaware that some people wanted him
so badly as he had very sensitive information that would compromise Black Mafian organization.
In that tense moment, clocked in the obscurity of the target’s house, Raymond's senses were
heightened, and his training kicked in. With each silent step, the mission’s gravity weighted
heavily on his mind. Their mission was to kill RCO Salum Motoko, and before they did it, he
had to give them every detail he had concerning Black Mafian organization. The moment they
arrived at the house; it was 0205AM. The house’s occupants were unaware of ET20 presence,
thanks to the meticulously executed power outage and the strategic cutting of communication
they made prior to their entrance.
This was Ray’s first moment of this magnitude, a to be a leader of the execution team, ET20.
The tension was palpable as he navigated through a dark, forbidding environment, armed and

determined. He raised his hand to signal the team to stop, and they huddled in a brief, whispered
discussion. It was that moment he saw RCO Salum Motoko’s girl going to the restroom. He
redirected the rest of his screw into the wrong direction. He just wanted to protect the girl
without them noticing anything. With the other members of the group scattered throughout the
house, searching for the family, he quietly approached the girl, trying to remain inconspicuous.
As he reached her, he gently whispered to her, “Listen carefully, I’m here to protect you. Stay
quiet and follow my lead. Your life depends on it”. Raymond could see the fear in her eyes, but
she seemed to understand the gravity of the situation. His priority was to keep her hidden from
the rest of the group, who were determined to carry out their mission. He guided her to a
concealed spot in the house, ensuring she remained out of sight. At the same time, he needed to
be vigilant, keeping an eye on the other members to avoid suspicion.
“Stay here out of sight till the moment I come back. Even if police officers arrive first, don’t
move from here. Some of them are working for us so I’ am the only one safe for you,
understand?”, he whispered to her
(Hesitating): “I understand”, she replied
With a heavy heart, Josephine witnessed the tragic and unfortunate demise of her parents’ lives
at the hands of the ruthless BMO group. They were heartless in their missions, carrying out the
terrible act in cold blood. But Ray's focus remained on protecting the innocent girl. As the chaos
unfolded, he managed to keep her hidden, ensuring that she was not discovered by the group
members who were ready to swipe out the whole family and leave no any trace behind. Once the
terrible ordeal was over, he returned to the house and found her still at the same spot he left her,
she was a smart girl.
Raymond: “What’s your name?”

(Frightened): “Josephine”
“How old are you?”
(Crying impatiently): “17”
(Empathic): “Hey, Josephine. Listen to me very carefully”
(Clearing tears): “Okay”
“If you want to be alive, seems pretty clear to me, you’ve only one option”
“And!... what does that supposed to mean?”
She confided in him about her uncle, Abdallah living far from the city. This presented a glimmer
of hope. Raymond knew they had to act swiftly. He provided her with some money and carefully
planned her escape route, avoiding known checkpoints and areas frequented by BMO members.
The group’s relentless search for her continued, but their efforts bore no fruits as he expertly
maneuvered the situation, leaving them in the dark about her whereabouts.
As she made her way out of the city to safety, she saw Raymond as the savior, a beacon of light
in a dark and treacherous situation. She recognized that, despite his association with the group
that had taken her parents’ lives, he had risked his own safety to ensure hers. In her eyes,
Raymond became a symbol of hope and a half good person, someone who had tried to make
amends in a world filled with darkness and anger. A lot of questions were oscillating in his mind,
as he was staring at the city that slowly starts to transform his life.
“Am I a good person?”, Is there a line that distinguish bad and good? Can a single good thing
defeat 99 bad things? Would I dare take a downfall protecting someone’s life? Does fate rewards
us peace? What will happen if Nance finally know about my dark side? Am I any better than
James Jr.?"
He didn’t know answers to any of his questions

“I have to live longer to see where will this fate lead me” he said to himself.
Madeline clenched her phone tightly, her face a mix of determination and anguish as she
reassured the commanding voice on the other end that she would work on it. The voice,
authoritative and unyielding, insisted that someone had paid a considerable amount to the
organization, and Madeline had to ensure that Veronica's body must be found.
The task given to Madeline was daunting and heart-wrenching – to execute someone who had
once been her friend and had helped her reach the position she was in now. Despite all the
terrible things Madeline had done in her life, the idea of harming a friend like Veronica shook
her to the core. Veronica had stood by her through every challenge, a loyal companion in the
face of adversity. The conflict within Madeline was palpable as she prepared herself for the
unthinkable.
Madeline felt her throat tighten as the voice on the other end of the line grew colder and more
menacing. "It has been six months, Madeline, and still, you bring up the same excuses. Next
time, the red spot will be for Nance," the voice threatened.
Tears streamed down Madeline's face, her resolve wavered, but she mustered the strength to
respond, her voice quivering, "I will work on it this time, I promise." The weight of the task
ahead settled heavily upon her shoulders, the thought of losing another friend haunting her every
step.
It has been 6 months since the last time Nance Williams last heard from Raymond Philemon. She
grew increasingly frightened about Raymond’s disappearance without any word from him. She
couldn’t shake the feeling that something had gone terribly wrong with him. She was haunted by
the uncertainty of his fate, imagining the worst scenarios might happened to him.

6 MONTHS BACK
Raymond's kidnapping was executed with meticulous professionalism. The operation was
executed in a matter of minutes, leaving him disoriented and unable to identify his captors. The
operatives operated in a coordinated manner, wearing masks and using unmarked vehicles,
making it nearly impossible for him to discern who was behind his kidnapping. This calculated
approach was intended to maintain the element of uncertainty and confusion, leaving him in a
state of apprehension about the true identity of those responsible for his abduction. This team of
highly trained operatives discreetly monitored his movements, waiting for the opportune
moment. As he exited the supermarket, they swiftly and quietly incapacitated him with an
anesthetic, administered with precision to ensure a swift and a non- violet abduction. His body
felt relaxed, his head felt dizzy, heavy and his eyelids started closing, darkness was all over his
face and he couldn’t stop it. Raymond didn’t know who kidnapped him and what was their
agenda, he didn’t know where they were taking him.
He found himself in a grim situation, whisked away to a mysterious black-site several miles s
from what seemed like a mining site, judged by the surroundings. The stark industrial landscape
added to the sense of isolation and dread. They subjected him to relentless tortures, seeking
information that he was determined not to divulge. Despite the pain and agony inflicted upon
him, he remained steadfast, never revealing a hint of the information they sought or identifying
the individuals behind this operation.
As the days turned into weeks, he couldn’t comprehend the trajectory of his fate. The uncertainty
gnawed at his psyche, leaving him in a constant state of dread, wondering if they would
eventually let him live or if this was a one-way journey to the abyss. The question of whether he

would ever see a daylight again weighed heavily on his mind, creating an unbearable
psychological toll.
Life inside that cell was a living hell, a relentless cycle of torture, sleep deprivation, and
starvation. Every four hours, day and night, they subjected him to unimaginable pain, ensuring
that he had no respite. He was given a small portion of bread ever two days, barely enough to
sustain his weakened body. Over time, his physical and mental health state started deteriorating,
but his resolve remained unbroken.
Interrogator 1: (Violently) Where is Veronica Philemon? Speak, or suffer the consequences.
Raymond: (Gritting his teeth) I've already told you; I don't know where she is. Torturing me
won't change that.
Interrogator 2: (Coldly) You're protecting her, aren't you? Maybe we need to remind you why
that's a very bad idea.
Raymond's eyes darted around the dimly lit room, filled with an array of menacing-looking
devices. His heart pounded in his chest as he braced for what was to come.
Interrogator 3: (Smirking) Let's start with a little shock, shall we?
Searing pain jolted through Raymond's body as electricity coursed through his veins. His
muscles convulsed uncontrollably, and he gasped for air, unable to scream due to the
excruciating pain.
Raymond: (Grimacing) You'll get nothing from me... (coughs) I won't betray my family.
Interrogator 1: (Leaning in, whispering) We have ways to make you talk, ways you can't even
fathom. We can break your spirit, Raymond.

Raymond's body trembled as he tried to maintain his composure. The interrogators' relentless
pursuit of information wore down his resolve, pushing him to the brink of despair.
Interrogator 2: (With a sinister grin) Let's try the ice room. Cold has a way of breaking even the
strongest wills.
Raymond was forcibly dragged into a freezing chamber, his breath visible in the icy air. He
shivered uncontrollably, his teeth chattering as the biting cold seeped into his bones.
Raymond: (Through chattering teeth) Y-you think this will... will make me talk? (pauses)
You're... wrong.
Interrogator 3: (Mocking) We'll see about that, Raymond.
Hours passed, each minute feeling like an eternity as Raymond endured the bone-chilling cold.
His mind teetered on the edge of madness, yet he clung to his determination.
Interrogator 1: (Returning to the room) Feeling a bit more cooperative now, Raymond?
Raymond, barely conscious, managed a defiant glare despite his weakened state. The
interrogators, realizing their conventional methods were failing, decided to change their
approach.
Interrogator 2: (Menacingly) We've heard whispers about a briefcase your father possessed. Tell
us its location, and maybe we'll consider easing your suffering.
Raymond's mind raced. The mention of the briefcase triggered memories of his father's
mysterious dealings, but he remained steadfast in his silence.
Raymond: (Hoarsely) You'll never find it. My father's secrets died with him.

The interrogators, frustrated by Raymond's resilience, left him alone in the freezing room,
hoping isolation would erode his willpower. In the silence, Raymond's thoughts turned to his
family, the people he loved, and the strength he drew from their memories.
Interrogator 1: (Snickering) How much longer can you endure, Raymond? Your silence will only
prolong your suffering.
Raymond's once defiant eyes now held a glint of desperation. The relentless cycle of torture had
worn him down, chipping away at his sanity.
Raymond: (Muttering to himself) I won't break... I won't break...
Days turned into nights, merging into a blur of agony and darkness. The room felt smaller, the
walls closing in on him as his mind teetered on the edge of madness.
The interrogators continued their onslaught, employing psychological tactics designed to erode
Raymond's mental fortitude. Sleep deprivation gnawed at his consciousness, hallucinations
blending with reality.
Raymond: (Whispering) Mom... Dad... I'm sorry...
He muttered apologies to the phantoms of his parents, seeking solace in their imagined presence.
His thoughts became fragmented, and the line between reality and delusion blurred.
Interrogator 3: (Cruelly) Your mind is betraying you, Raymond. Embrace the truth, and the pain
will end.
Raymond's laughter echoed through the room, hollow and maddened. The torture had driven
him to the brink, and his sanity hung by a fragile thread.
Raymond: (Maniacal laughter) Truth... lies... it's all the same in this nightmare.
His laughter turned to sobs, tears mingling with blood and sweat. The room seemed to pulse with
malevolence, the shadows dancing to the rhythm of his torment.

Interrogator 1: (Whispering) He's broken. It's time to extract what we need and dispose of him.
Raymond's mind, now a fractured mosaic of despair, clung to the memories of his family, the
only flicker of light in the engulfing darkness. Madness had claimed him, and in his shattered
psyche, he found a twisted kind of solace, welcoming the oblivion that seemed to beckon him.
In the heart of darkness, where the boundaries between reality and nightmare blur, Raymond
found himself trapped in a chilling abyss. The room, an icy chamber devoid of mercy, became
the theater for his relentless torment. Here, in this harrowing space, the vicious cycle of tortures
orchestrated by unseen hands pushed him to the brink of madness.
The air was thick with an overwhelming sense of dread, as if the very walls bore witness to the
horrors inflicted upon him. Raymond, once a strong-willed soul, now stood on the precipice of
despair, his spirit battered and broken by the relentless onslaught of pain and fear.
His desperate pleas for release echoed through the frigid air, each cry reverberating off the walls
like a ghostly chorus of suffering. Every drop of water that fell, every gust of wind that seeped
through the cracks, carried with them a sense of foreboding, intensifying the nightmare that had
become his reality.
In this grim moment, Raymond's mind teetered on the edge of sanity. The darkness seemed alive
with malevolence, and he struggled to distinguish between the real and the imagined. His very
essence, stripped bare in the cold, had become a canvas upon which his deepest fears and regrets
painted a haunting tableau of torment.
And so, in this forsaken place, Raymond's ordeal continued, each passing second driving him
further into the clutches of madness. His anguished cries for salvation were met only by the

chilling silence of the room, a silence that whispered of unspeakable horrors and the shattered
fragments of a once resilient soul.
Raymond: (Hysterical whispers) I can't take this anymore... I'm losing my mind... Please, please,
just let me go... I'll tell you anything you want to know...
His voice cracked and trembled, the weight of despair settling deep within his bones. The
chilling silence of the room was broken only by the sound of his own ragged breaths and the
distant drip of water, a cruel reminder of his isolation.
Raymond: (Shouting into the void) Is anyone out there? Can anyone hear me? I'm begging you,
please... (His pleas echoed off the icy walls, bouncing back at him in a mockery of his
desperation. His eyes, bloodshot and filled with terror, darted around the room, searching for an
escape that did not exist.)
Every creak of the floorboards, every distant sound, sent shivers down his spine. The darkness
seemed to come alive with unseen horrors, his imagination conjuring grotesque images in the
shadows. The pain from his injuries merged with the relentless cold, blurring the lines between
physical and psychological agony.
Raymond: (Whimpering) I'll tell you everything... just make it stop... (His mind, once sharp and
defiant, now wavered on the precipice of madness. He could almost feel the walls closing in
around him, suffocating him in a nightmare from which there was no awakening.)
In the haunting silence, he could hear whispers—whispers that seemed to seep from the very
walls, taunting him with the horrors of his own mind. Every drop of water became a sinister
laugh, every gust of wind outside the room an ominous omen.

Raymond: (Hysterical laughter mixed with tears) Why are you doing this to me? What do you
want? I'm just one person... (His voice trailed off into broken sobs, the hopelessness of his
situation overwhelming him. In the depths of the ice room, he was a mere shell, haunted by his
own tortured thoughts and the unseen terrors lurking in the darkness.)
In the depths of his despair, Raymond's mind became a battleground, a battlefield where sanity
clashed with madness. The relentless torture had stripped away his resilience, leaving behind a
raw, fragile version of himself. The icy chains that bound him seemed to taunt him, their cold,
unyielding links echoing the cruel whispers of his tormentors.
In that harrowing moment, a sinister idea took hold of his thoughts like a creeping shadow. The
chains, once instruments of his captivity, now beckoned to him as a means of escape. His
trembling hands reached for the unforgiving metal, fingers tracing the outlines of the links with a
dreadful fascination. The notion of tying those chains around his neck, seeking refuge in the
silence of death, slithered into his mind like a venomous serpent.
His heart pounded in his chest, the rhythm of despair echoing through his veins. Each breath he
took was tainted with the bitter taste of hopelessness. His eyes, clouded with tears of anguish,
fixated on the chains as if they held the key to his liberation.
The relentless torture pushed Raymond to the brink of his sanity. His mind, once sharp and
focused, now wavered between reality and delusion. Every tormenting moment etched deeper
scars on his psyche, embedding fear into his very core. The icy room seemed to echo with the
screams of his pain, a chilling reminder of his helplessness.
As he lay naked in the cold, his body trembling uncontrollably, he desperately sought solace in
the darkness. The chains that bound him served as a cruel reminder of his captivity, leaving him

yearning for an escape that seemed impossible. In his moments of despair, he contemplated the
unthinkable, entertaining thoughts of ending his torment by any means necessary.
The passage of time became a torment of its own. Days blurred into nights, and each
excruciating moment felt like an eternity. He cursed fate, cursed the choices that led him to this
horrifying ordeal. The very essence of his existence seemed to wither away, replaced by an
overwhelming sense of dread.
In the depths of his suffering, Raymond's thoughts turned to his loved ones – Nance, his friends,
and most of all, his mother, Veronica. He wondered if they knew of his plight, if they were
searching for him, or if they had already given up hope. The mere thought of their anguish fueled
his determination to endure, even when he felt he had nothing left to give.
Yet, amid the darkness, a flicker of resilience ignited within him. Despite the unimaginable pain,
Raymond refused to break completely. His will to survive, to defy his captors, burned like a
small but defiant flame in the vast emptiness of despair. He clung to that glimmer of hope,
drawing strength from the depths of his despair.
In the midst of his suffering, Raymond's mind became a battleground – a battleground between
fear and resilience, between despair and hope. The unknown tormentors had pushed him to the
edge, testing the very limits of his endurance. And yet, within the recesses of his shattered
psyche, he found a fragment of himself that refused to surrender – a fragment that whispered, "I
will endure. I will survive."
In the darkest of moments, when hope seemed all but lost, a glimmer of plan for escape begun to
form in mind. He knew that if he were to regain his freedom, it had to be a meticulously crafted
endeavor. He started by gathering every bit of information he could about his surroundings, the

schedules of his captures, and any potential vulnerabilities in their security. Piece by piece, he
meticulously planned every detail, taking into account the slightest nuances that might make the
difference between success and failure.
As the plan took shape, a sense of cautious optimism washed over him. He had identified a few
weak points in their operation, and he could almost see how it might work out. The prospect of
escaping this nightmarish ordeal fueled his determination and resolve. Though the risks were
immense, he knew this was his only chance of freedom, and he was willing to take that chance,
even if success hung by the thinnest of threads. He knew that he was responsible for his own life.
The relentless barrage of similar questions from his captors began to gnaw at his sanity. He
couldn’t discern whether it was a faction within BMO, their competitors, law enforcement, or
even intelligence agencies like the NIA behind his captivity. The uncertainty was maddening,
leaving him both confused and frustrated. He questioned who had orchestrated this nightmare
and what their ultimate objective might be.
(Exasperated, speaking to myself): “Who are these people? Are they from BMO? No, it can’t be.
But what if it is? No, that doesn’t make sense. Why would they do this to me?”
(Persistently): “Answer the question!”, 1st interrogator asked
(Growing increasingly distressed): “What do they want from me? Is it the BMO’s secrets they’re
after? But why not just ask the right questions? Or is it something else entirely? Who could
benefit from this madness?”
(Impatiently shouting): “We’re waiting for your response!”
(Desperately trying to maintain composure): “Am I going mad here? What if it’s someone from
within BMO who’s responsible? How sure will I be they will spare my life I give the details they
are after? Could they suspect me of betrayal? Or is it a rival faction within the organization?”

His mind was a chaotic battleground, poisoned by the long sufferings, torn between questions
and doubts. He even started questioning his existence, it was the greatest lifetime tortures that he
ever faced, to both his body and soul and he feeling of regret over his decisions were haunting
him.
(Crying impatiently): “I’ve been at the darkest point of my life, the hell that I led myself in. I’ve
seen death angles dancing for my sufferings, and they couldn’t afford taking my life. Did God
forget to put breaks between my life’s sufferings?”, asked himself.
The uncertainty of his captor’s identity and motives was pushing him to the brink, and he
struggled to maintain a semblance of sanity amidst the relentless interrogation.
(Regretfully): “Does our fate rewards us the same level of sufferings, or my creation was
personal?”, asked himself
(Screaming helplessly): “Why don’t you take my life?”
Ray was at the darkest point of his life and no one was coming to save him. He was tired of
being him, and he wished he would exchange his life with death.
(Praying): “I wish death angle would be my friend, I would bargain my life with any price that
you’d put on the table, I had no any other choice than dying." His poisoned mind said to his
consciousness.
In the dim glow of a single, flickering bulb, Uncle Sam stood hunched over a weathered
photograph. The image captured a time long gone, a moment of shared laughter and camaraderie
between Uncle Sam and Raymond. But now, the joy in their eyes had been replaced by an abyss

of sorrow and uncertainty. A tear traced a path down Uncle Sam's weathered face, reflecting the
anguish he felt within his very soul.
The basement, once a sanctuary of plans and dreams, now felt hollow and desolate. The walls
seemed to close in on Uncle Sam, suffocating him with the weight of his helplessness. Every
corner echoed with the absence of Raymond, the mentee he had come to consider his own son.
The silence was deafening, broken only by the occasional sniffle as Uncle Sam wiped away his
tears. The photograph trembled in his hands, the paper thin and fragile, much like Uncle Sam's
hopes. He had searched tirelessly, exhaustively, scouring every lead and following every
whisper, but Raymond remained elusive, slipping through his fingers like sand. The ache of loss
and the gnawing fear for Raymond's safety settled heavily in Uncle Sam's chest, making it
difficult to breathe.
Uncle Sam's eyes, bloodshot and weary, were fixed on the photograph as if seeking solace in the
frozen smiles of the captured moment. The very essence of Raymond seemed to haunt the room,
his absence a tangible presence that hung in the air, a ghostly reminder of their shared dreams
and aspirations. The tears fell freely now, marking the photograph with the salt of Uncle Sam's
despair. The world outside continued its relentless march, oblivious to the anguish that consumed
Uncle Sam's heart. In this basement, amid the fragments of unfinished plans and abandoned
dreams, Uncle Sam grappled with the void left by Raymond's disappearance, his longing etched
into every tear-streaked line on his face.
The room fell into an eerie silence as Uncle Sam's phone chimed, disrupting the melancholic
atmosphere of the basement. His heart skipped a beat, a mix of trepidation and hope flooding his

senses. With trembling hands, he picked up the device, his eyes fixated on the glowing screen.
The notification displayed a cryptic message, its sender masked behind an unknown number.
His eyes widened as he read the instructions. The words glowed ominously in the dim light of
the room. "Come alone, without your phone. St. Monica's Liberty Statue. 0700 PM sharp,
unarmed. Ensure no one follows you. Delete this message once read."
Uncle Sam's mind swirled with a whirlwind of emotions—curiosity, fear, and a glimmer of hope.
The message seemed like a lifeline, a chance to unravel the mystery surrounding Raymond's
disappearance. Yet, it also reeked of danger, its secrecy raising unsettling questions. With every
passing second, the weight of his decision hung heavily on his shoulders.
He hesitated briefly, his finger hovering over the delete button. What if this was a trap? What if
he stepped into the lion's den, risking not only his life but also the slim hope he clung to? But the
longing to find Raymond, to uncover the truth, overpowered his hesitation. With a determined
breath, he swiped the message away, erasing the digital trace of his potential rendezvous.
The room seemed to close in on him as he prepared to leave, a mixture of anticipation and fear
clouding his thoughts. The basement, once a sanctuary, now felt like a prison. The walls seemed
to whisper secrets, warning him of the dangers that lay ahead. With his phone left behind, Uncle
Sam stepped into the unknown, bracing himself for whatever awaited him at St. Monica's Liberty
Statue.
Uncle Sam stood beneath the shadow of St. Monica's Liberty Statue, his eyes darting nervously
in all directions. The city around him buzzed with life, oblivious to the clandestine meeting about

to unfold. A chill crawled up his spine, a premonition of something ominous lingering in the air.
Every rustle of the wind, every distant footstep, set his heart pounding.
Suddenly, an icy sensation pricked at the back of his neck, and he felt a presence behind him. He
turned slowly; his breath caught in his throat. There, shrouded in darkness, stood a figure—a
silhouette against the night.
The figure remained still, only its eyes glinting with a peculiar intensity. "H-hello Samwel
Julian," the voice, low and cold, sliced through the night, sending shivers down Uncle Sam's
spine. The use of his full name added an unsettling edge to the encounter.
In the dim glow of the streetlight, Uncle Sam's eyes widened as he recognized the familiar voice
that had uttered his full name. "Veronica Alfred," he breathed, a mixture of worry and surprise
etched across his face. "You can't be here-"
"I know," she interrupted, her voice laden with tears that glimmered in the soft light. "I am
looking for my son. It has been six months and a half since the last time I spotted him."
"You've been at Kito all this time?" he asked, incredulity coloring his tone.
"Yes. I am currently working with NIA as their informer. I came to realize BMO is just like any
other killer, a corrupted organization that should be torn into pieces."
"But you want me to join your movement. We both know that cannot happen-" Uncle Sam
began, his voice tinged with resignation.
"You don't understand anything, Samwel," Veronica interjected sharply, her eyes glinting with
determination. "I have a red tag on my back. BMO's chief executive, Omari Bin Salim, put a
clearance order of $150M for my execution."

"I know about that," Uncle Sam said, his voice steady despite the gravity of the situation.
Veronica, who had been standing with a gun in her hand, moved closer, her breath warm on his
ear as she whispered, "They have put a sniper who watches every move you and Ray make. Her
name is Elizabeth Deathtrap. She hits from miles away, and she never misses her shot. You are
only alive because BMO doesn't know anything about our meeting, isn't that, right?" Her words
hung in the air; her tone deadly serious, reminiscent of a lioness protecting her cubs.
Uncle Sam felt disappointed as he realized that all the time he had been working loyally with the
BMO, they never trusted him, and they dared to put a sniper at his back, ready to shoot at any
time he made a wrong move.
"What happened to you, Veronica?" Uncle Sam asked her, his voice choked with emotion, tears
rolling down his cheeks. The intensity of his gaze revealed the depth of their past intimacy, a
connection that time and circumstances couldn't erase.
Veronica pulled her gun away from Sam's body and placed it back in her coat's inner pocket. She
looked at Uncle Sam, her eyes a mix of sorrow and determination. With a deep breath, she said,
"Now is not the right time for that."
Uncle Sam persisted, his voice demanding answers, "Just say it, what happened to you?" His
eyes, filled with pain and confusion, searched Veronica's face for any sign of truth.
Feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt, Veronica began to open up, her voice heavy with regret,
"I've made a lot of mistakes lately. The choices I made are the ones punishing me now." She

locked eyes with Sam, her gaze pleading for understanding. "I never loved Philemon. I only
married him for the sake of our friend, Madeline Alfred-"
"Our friend," Uncle Sam interrupted, his voice a mix of sadness and anger, realizing the depth of
deception that had plagued their lives.
Veronica's confession hung heavy in the air, as the truth behind her actions began to unravel. The
cold wind rustled the leaves around them, amplifying the eerie silence of the night. The dim glow
of the streetlights cast eerie shadows on their faces, making the atmosphere even more unsettling.
Uncle Sam's mind was racing, trying to comprehend the web of lies that had entangled their
lives. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing the weight of their shared history. The
distant sound of sirens only added to the tension, as if the world itself was bearing witness to
their clandestine conversation.
Veronica, now on the verge of tears, continued her confession with a trembling voice, "I got
involved with the BMO for the sake of Madeline's revenge. But the more I delved into their
world, the deeper I sank. I became entangled in their dark secrets, and there was no way out."
Uncle Sam's hands clenched into fists, his emotions raw and unfiltered. He felt a mixture of
anger, betrayal, and desperation. The reality of their situation sank in, and he understood the
danger they were both facing. The sinister truth of the BMO's ruthlessness became painfully
evident.
"We need to expose them," Veronica whispered urgently. "We have to bring their darkness into
the light, for our sake and for Raymond's."
Uncle Sam nodded; his jaw clenched with determination. He knew that their fight against the
BMO was not just about survival; it was a battle for redemption and justice. The truth had been

hidden for far too long, and now, in the midst of the chilling night, they were ready to confront
the shadows that had haunted their lives. Little did they know, the path they had chosen was
fraught with danger, pushing them deeper into the heart of darkness, where terrifying secrets
awaited.

[CHAPTER 5]- I’AM GOING TO MAKE IT
It has been seven long Months since Nance Williams last saw Raymond. Frustrations, confusion,
anxiety, and worry had become constant companions in her life. Raymond was the foundation of
her heart, so his absence deteriorated her the same was Ray’s life at the dungeon kept
deteriorating. He always knew " everyone is experiencing pain in life; we just vary in the extent
of our sufferings." She couldn’t fathom his sudden disappearance, and the lack of
communication left her in a state of relentless torment.
Nance had left no stone unturned in her desperate quest to find him. She went to radio stations,
an even the local police, relentlessly searching for any information that might lead her to
Raymond. Each day without news deepened her despair, and the uncertainty of his fate haunted
her every moment. Her life had become an excruciating ordeal in his absence. Everyday felt like
a heavy burden to bear. The uncertainty and worry about his fate gnawed at her, casting a
perpetual shadow over her existence Her once-vibrant had dimmed, replaced by a persistent
sense of emptiness and longing. Tasks that were once routine now felt insurmountable, and even
the simplest joys had lost their luster. Her social life had dwindled, as her thoughts were
consumed by the mystery of his disappearance.
Sleep was illusive, as her nights were plagued by nightmares and the relentless repaying of
memories. She felt isolated, unable to share her anguish with anyone who could truly understand.
Her life had transformed into a daily struggle, a battle against despair, as she clung to the hope
that one day, somehow, she would be reunited with the love of her life.
In the midst of her anguish and despair, she clung to the memories of the beautiful moments she
had shared with Raymond. Those memories were like lifelines, offering solace in her darkest

hours. She remembered the way his eyes would light when they met, the warmth of his mile, and
tenderness of his touch. The laughter that they shared, the adventures they had embarked upon,
and the quite moments of togetherness all played vividly in her mind. Every detail, from the way
he’d brush a strand of hair from her face to the sound of his laughter, remained etched in her
heart. She was haunted by the memories of the true love that they shared. Those memories were
a source of strength, a reminder of the love that we fired, and a beacon of hope that, someday,
they would create more beautiful moments together.
(Crying impatiently): “I miss everything from you, Raymond Philemon. You are the complete
form of me. I wish you’d be by my side, and hear how my heart beats for you”, said to herself.
(Noticing Nance’s sadness): “Sweetie, what’s been bothering you so much lately? You seem
really down.”, asked her mother
(Tears welling up): “Mom, I’ve been going through so much. I miss Raymond terribly, and I’ve
been feeling so lonely and stressed”
(Concerned): “I had no idea you were feeling this way You know you can always talk to me
about anything, right? I’m here for you”.
(Crying): “I know, Mom, but it’s not just that. I’ve also missed having a dad in my life.
I’ve never even seen him, and it hurts”
(Softly): “I understand, sweetheart. I’m sorry if I’ve never talked about him before. Your
dad…well, he wasn’t a part of our lives, but you have me, and I’ll always be here to
support and love you. We’ll get through this together”.
Madeline comforted her daughter, wrapping her in a warm embrace, determined to
provide the love and guidance that Nance needed during this difficult time. She has been
a pillar of support and understanding throughout Nance’s challenging journey. She had
listened to her daughter’s fears, dried her tear and offered guidance when needed the
most. Medeline’s unwavering love and reassurance had provided Nance with a sense of
stability and comfort, helping her navigate the complexities of her life, from the mystery
of Raymond's disappearance to the longing for a father she had never known. In this
tumultuous time, Madeline’s presence had been a source of strength and solace for
Nance, reinforcing the unbreakable bond between mother and daughter.
Both Raymond and Nance had been unknowingly entangled in a web of deception, their
lives built upon half-truths and omissions that concealed a monumental and elusive
reality. As they navigated through separate worlds, neither had a linking that a significant
truth, one that could reshape their very identities, lay concealed just beyond their
awareness.
His disappearance and his parents’ involvement with secretive organizations like BMO
had kept Raymond in the dark about the full extent of his own past, his true origin, and
the forces that propelled him into a life of intrigue. Meanwhile, Nance was obvious to the
enigmatic history of her own family, the mysteries surrounding her father, Madeline, had
meticulously guarded. Unbeknownst to both of them, their lives were intertwined by the
very truth they had never realized, a truth that held the potential to unravel their pasts,
reshape their futures, and uncover the profound connections they shared.
Nance Williams had always known her mother, Madeline as a passionate reproductive
Health activist, a woman who tirelessly travelled the globe, advocating for women’s
reproductive Health awareness and empowerment. She has been working with the
company known by the name TRIPLE N, LWL (NEW LIGHT, NEW WORLD, NEW
LIFE). Madeline’s dedication to this cause had shaped Nance’s perception of her mother
as a strong, independent, and a compassionate woman.
The TRIPLE N, LWL [NEW LIGHT, NEW WORLD, NEW LIFE] organization was the
part of the TJO big enterprises.
Conversely, Nance’s father had remained an enigmatic figure in her life. Madeline had
never spoken about him, and any attempt by Nance to unearth details about her father had
been met with a sharp and uncharacteristic anger from her mother. These conversations
inevitably collapsed, leaving Nance with more questions than answers and a sense that
her father’s identity was a deeply guarded secret, shrouded in mystery and concealed for
reasons she couldn’t fathom.

Deep within the recesses of Madeline’s heart lay a profound secret concerning Nance’s true
father, a truth she had guarded vigilantly. It was a secret that she believed, by all means, should
remain hidden from her daughter.
(Regrettably): “I didn’t want all the things I’ve built to fall to the ground. I’ll make sure she
won’t know the truth”, Madeline said to herself.
The weight of this undisclosed information had burdened Medeline for years, for it held the
potential to shatter the delicate balance of Nance’s world and introduced a chaos that Medeline
was resolute in her commitment to keeping it hidden, believing it to be in Nance’s best interest
that she never knew the truth.
(Confidently): “Some things are better hidden, for my safety and hers”, said to herself.
I wonder if in this bleeding world we are currently living there is no time for all the truths to
come out. Things must come into Revelation at some point, if not willingly, then at the expense
of falling down.
As Nance grappled with the agonizing absence of both James Jr. and Raymond, she couldn’t
help but feel a deep sense of unluckiness in love. The pain of losing two significant loves in her
life weighed heavily on her heart, leaving her with a profound sense of sorrow and
disappointment. With Jams Jr., she had once believed in the promise of lifelong love, only to see
it crumble. Now, with Ray’s absence for months, the notion of love had become a source of pain
and frustration. It seemed as though happiness in matters of heart had eluded, and this string of
heartaches left her questioning her own fate in love. These experiences left her emotionally
scarred and guarded, hesitant to open herself up to the possibility of love again. She couldn’t

help but wonder if love was something that had simply passed her by, leaving her feeling as
though she were destined to be unlucky in matters of the heart.
Nance’s academic life took a sharp downturn following Ray's absence, as he had been her trusted
and dedicated studying partner. The absence of his support and collaboration had a profound
impact on her studies. They had complemented each other’s strength and weaknesses, working
together to tackle complex medical subjects, share insights, and motivate each other. With him
gone, she found herself struggling to maintain the same level of focus and enthusiasm for her
coursework. The void left by his absence made studying more challenging, and she often found
herself reminiscing about the times they had spent studying together. Her grades suffered, and
the academic achievements they had once pursued together now seemed like a distant goal to
reach. Her academic life became a constant reminder of her loss, as she struggled to navigate the
challenges of her studies without her dependable partner by her side.
Due to Raymond's extended absence, his academic journey at DREAM-MORE HEALTH
UNIVERSITY, DMHU took a grave turn. The university administration, after numerous
attempts to contact him, was left with no choice but to discontinue his enrollment. As the months
passed without any sign of him, his professors and academic advisors became increasingly
concerned. They had tried to reach out, sent multiple emails, and made phone calls, but all efforts
proved futile. His consecutive seven-month absence from the class left the university with no
alternative but to take the difficult decision. His name was removed from the class rosters, and
his academic records were marked with a discontinuation status. It was a somber and unfortunate

outcome, as his once-promising academic career came to an abrupt halt due to the mysteries
surrounding his disappearance.
The news of his discontinuation from DMHU struck Nance like a devastating blow. It was as if
the ground had been ripped from beneath her feet, leaving her in a state of profound shock and
sorrow. The realization that her beloved had been removed from the university records due to his
inexplainable absence was a harsh and painful reality to accept. It deepened her sense of
helplessness, as she had hoped that his education would somehow remain a beacon of hope
amidst the uncertainty of his disappearance. She was left with a deep sense of longing for him
and a profound sadness about the abrupt halt to his academic pursuits.
(Sadly): “So he won’t be a doctor anymore?”, asked to herself
(Confidently): “But I won’t have peace till I realized what happened to you, Raymond
Philemon”, assuring to herself.
The incident only added to her growing list of unanswered questions, making her journey
through difficult period even more emotionally taxing.
Her loneliness became all-encompassing as she bore the weight of guilt for James Jr.’s descent
into addiction. The knowledge that her actions had played a part in Raymond's downward spiral
weighed heavily on her heart, leaving her isolated and burdened by remorse. The once-vibrant
social circles she had once been a part of now felt distant and unwelcoming. Friends and
acquaintances had either distanced themselves from her or simply couldn’t comprehend the
gravity of her emotional turmoil. She felt like an outcast among her peers, unable to confide in
anyone about the guilt and regret that haunted her. Her relationship with James Jr. had been
shattered by the destructive effects- of addiction, leaving her not only bereft but also haunted by

the specter of his near-death experience. She couldn’t escape the haunting images of his
struggles and ultimate rehabilitation, and the guilt of her role to his sufferings was a constant
source of torment. Her loneliness was compounded by Ray’s absence, the love of her life, and
sense of alienation from her social circle. Her life had become a solitary journey marked by
remorse, longing, and the haunting memories of the past.
Nance found it increasingly difficult to accept the possibility that she might be the root of the
problems in other people’s lives. It was the truth that she vehemently denied, as it challenged her
self-image and the narrative, she had constructed about herself. Whenever someone hinted at her
involvement in the difficulties faced by those around her, she would become defensive and
deflect the blame onto external factors. She clung to the belief that she was a good person and
couldn’t possibly be the cause of harm to others. Her refusal to acknowledge her potential role in
the struggles of those she cared about became a defensive mechanism, allowing her to shield
herself from the painful reality that her actions may have unintentionally hurt others. It was a
coping strategy born out of self-preservation, but one that prevented her from engaging in
meaningful self-reflection and growth.
After months of anguish and inner turmoil, Nance finally mustered the courage to retrace Ray's
disappearances. The need for answers had grown too strong to ignore, and she was determined to
uncover the truth, no matter how painful it might be. Her journey of investigation led her back to
Raymond's family house, a place filled with cherished memories and the starting point of her
quest. With trepidation, she stood before the familiar front door, feeling mix of hope and dread
as she prepared to confront the past. She knew that delving into Ray’s life and surroundings was

the only way to unravel the mystery behind his disappearance., and so, with a determined heart,
she took her first steps into the place that had once been our sanctuary, hoping to find the clues
that would lead her to the truth.
(Confidently whispering): “I will find the love of my life”, said to herself, she added” it doesn’t
matter what got you Raymond, but I’ am going to make it. I’ am going to get you baby. I know
you are out there waiting for me”.
Raymond left his house keys in his bag at her room, so she took the keys and went straight to his
parents’ house, where he was living. They used to stay at the house couple of times, meanwhile
out of her consciousness, BMO’s operations kept going at the house underground basement
undetected. As she stepped in, she had no idea what she might find, but her determination to
uncover the truth pushed her forward.
She knew that the house was installed with CCTV cameras, so she took all the precautions to
avoid being captured by the camera.
(Seemingly hesitating): “Someone might be watching me, so I have to be carefully”, said to
herself. Her curiosity had triggered her soul to dive into the investigation that would take
unexpected turn, plunging herself into the world of secrets, intrigued, and danger she had never
anticipated. She faced a choice-to delve deeper into this hidden world in pursuit of answers or to
retreat from the shadows and uncertainty that lay ahead.
For seven grueling months, Raymond had endured tortures and uncertainty within the confines of
the unknown black-site. But this day was markedly different. It was maybe the day that surprised
him the most in his life. He came to realize the people who were holding him a hostage were
working for Medeline, Nance Williams’s mother, a fact that almost surreal to him.

His voice, weak and tinged with disbelief, quivered as he uttered, “Madeline? Is that really you
leading this crew holding me hostage for months?”
Madeline's response was cold, laced with a hint of sadness, “Raymond Philemon, it’s been a long
time.”
Fear and despair gripped Raymond, his voice trembling as he implored, “What is this all about,
Madeline? Why all of this? Is it because I’m in love with your daughter? Why have I been
subjected to this torment for months?”
Madeline's eyes flickered with something akin to amusement as she replied, “You and your
parents took something precious from me.”
out, “What thing is worth my torture?”
She laughed, a chilling sound that echoed in the confined space, “You really want to play like
that?”
Confused and desperate for answers, Raymond pleaded, “Please make me
understand…please…”
Madeline's tone turned melancholic as she confessed, “Your mother took a certain briefcase, the
day she killed your father. Believe me or not, that briefcase is worth your life.”
Raymond, trembling with fear, stammered, “My mother went dark the night my father was
murdered. I neither know about the briefcase nor where she went.”
Madeline sighed, her patience wearing thin, “I knew you’d say that. I’ve been patient for so long,
waiting for you to speak the truth, but you have been more useless than expected.”
Desperation etched his voice, “Madeline, is Nance safe?”
Her response was cold and devoid of emotion, “You don’t need to concern yourself with her
right now, Raymond.”

His desperation grew, “Does she have anything to do with this?”
In a fit of fury, Madeline commanded, “This is a loss. Electrify him, and make sure he gets
crucified early in the morning.” The order hung heavily in the air, sealing Raymond's fate in the
darkness that had consumed him for far too long.
In the suffocating darkness, Raymond, his life hanging by the fragile thread of his words, roared
with pain and desperation. He pulled against the chains that bound him, his voice reverberating
in the confines of his captivity. "If I tell you where the briefcase is, would you tell me
everything?" he screamed, his eyes wild with fear and uncertainty.
Madeline, her tone dripping with disdain, approached Raymond, getting close to his face, and
sneered at him. She whispered in his ear, "I'm afraid, even if you tell me everything, there are
people who want you dead more than I do."
Tears streamed down Raymond's cheeks as he realized the depths of his peril. He cried out, his
voice breaking, "What kind of a mother dares do such a thing to her child?"
Amidst her laughter, Madeline struck Raymond across the face, the sound echoing in the
darkness. She replied, her voice laced with cruel amusement, "Disrespect isn't my motivation.
Your greedy mother paid $100M to The Black cats for your father's execution. Something you
still don't understand. She turned her back on BMO, leaving you to work for the organization
without realizing it was a death sentence. That's why, on the night I was following Nance, when
she entered your house, I spotted a sniper positioned at the north corner of the city tower. I have
some friends at the NIA. When I ran her identity, guess what came up?"
Madeline continued, her voice filled with dark satisfaction, "Her name is Elizabeth Johnson,
baptized in the United States of Dane's Navy SEALs army as Elizabeth Deathtrap. She's an

international sniper killer who never missed her target. So, who's worse, me or your mother?"
Her words hung heavily in the air, intensifying the suffocating atmosphere that surrounded
Raymond, pushing him further into the abyss of despair.
Raymond's weakened voice wavered in the dim light; his eyes fixed on Madeline as he
questioned her motives. "How does that make my mother a bad person?" he managed to say,
trying to grasp the fragments of his deteriorating mind.
Madeline scoffed, her expression cold and disdainful. "You still don't understand, boy," she
retorted with a hint of mockery. "I wonder why my daughter fell in love with your slowly
understanding brain."
As she turned to leave, Raymond, his strength fueled by defiance, lashed out with a cutting
remark. "Anyway," she said dismissively, her words echoing in the confines of the room. "She
failed to protect you. That's what the best parents do to their children."
Raymond's laughter, tinged with pain, filled the air, a bitter acknowledgment of the grim reality
he faced. Coughing blood, he gathered the strength to confront Madeline. "Do you think you can
hide your evil side from your daughter forever?" he wheezed; his words laced with defiance.
"One day she'll find the truth about you, and when she does, she will see the hellish side of you."
Madeline, her anger rising, approached Raymond, her eyes ablaze with fury. "I hope Nance
doesn't know about you, the BMO's trainings. She doesn't know anything, isn't that, right?" she
spat out, attempting to defend herself.
Raymond, shivering from the cold and the toll of his injuries, mustered the last of his strength to
speak his truth. "I am going to die sooner or later. Love conquers evil. The night of my father's
murder, Veronica remained at the crime scene with the briefcase. She took it to the NIA, and

she's currently working for them." His revelation hung in the air, a fragile truth in the face of
overwhelming darkness. The room seemed to close in around them, as if the very walls were
suffocating them with the weight of their secrets.
Raymond's voice trembled with a mix of anguish and determination as he spoke, tears streaming
down his face. "I've always loved Nance, and she's loved me. Right now, she might be sitting in
her room, crying for me, missing my presence. I can't promise that I'll unveil all the truth
immediately, but I can assure you of one thing: 'Truth always finds its way to the surface.' When
she discovers the real you, your pain will far exceed the seven months of torment you subjected
me to in this dungeon."
Madeline, now visibly shaken, attempted to maintain her facade of control. "I will do everything
to protect my daughter," she declared, her voice laced with fear. Raymond noticed the
vulnerability in her eyes, a flicker of remorse buried deep within. "You should consider yourself
lucky I didn't kill you in these past seven months. If you were outside, you'd have met your end
much sooner," she said, her hands brushing away Raymond's tears. "I'm sorry for what I've done
to you. I'm just trying to survive."
With every step Madeline took, the dim light in the underground room flickered, casting eerie
shadows on the walls. Raymond, weak and frail, realized the depth of his confinement as he saw
her silhouette vanishing into the darkness. Despite her malevolence, a flicker of humanity
seemed to briefly cross her face as she wiped away the tears that stained her cheeks. Madeline
was undeniably evil, her soul seemingly consumed by darkness, yet even she couldn't ignore the
pitiful state of Raymond's health. He appeared as a dying man, his body ravaged by cold, fear,
and the madness that had settled in as his final moments approached.

Exiting the room, Madeline approached the twin torturers, Suzan and Abood Voldemort, who
stood at the door, their menacing presence accentuated by the array of torturing tools they held.
Her voice, laced with cold determination, cut through the silence. "Execute him tomorrow
morning," she commanded, her words echoing through the underground chamber.
"Yes, Madam," both replied in unison, their voices devoid of any remorse or hesitation. In the
shadows of that grim space, the fate of Raymond Philemon was sealed, set to be decided by the
hands of those devoid of mercy or compassion.
Madeline swiftly walked out of the underground chamber, her steps echoing in the dimly lit
corridor. She covered some distance before reaching an elevator. Stepping inside, she retrieved
her phone from her pocket and dialed a set of numbers she knew by heart. The call connected,
and a voice on the other end confirmed her executioner agent ID number: "876589045MAUSD."
"Confirmed," the voice on the line responded, its tone heavy and authoritative. "Was the target
handled with care?" it inquired further.
Madeline, her breaths heavy with emotion, replied, "Not yet, sir. I was about to obtain intel about
the whereabouts of our target, Veronica Philemon," her voice cracking as she mentioned the
name.
The voice on the other end demanded, "How long have you been in touch with your informer?"
His words carried a weight of seriousness.
"Seven months, sir, and—"
"And you believe the intel to be still accurate?" The voice interrupted, probing for certainty.

"I'm afraid it's not a short-term intel," she defended herself.
"What do you mean, 'not a short-term intel'?" The voice pressed on.
"Veronica Philemon is currently working for the NIA as their informer. She's the reason all the
BMO missions have been blown up recently. I knew about this; I was just getting confirmation."
The voice continued, unrelenting, "Relationship status of your informer with the target, Veronica
Philemon?"
"Her son, Raymond Philemon," Madeline confessed, her voice heavy with guilt.
"The one who used to date your daughter, Nance?" The voice clarified, its tone discerning.
Tears welled up in Madeline's eyes as she replied, "Yes, sir." The weight of her decisions hung
heavily upon her, casting a shadow over her conscience.
The voice on the other end of the line demanded, "How long do you intend to keep your informer
alive?"
"I ordered for his execution by tomorrow," Madeline replied, her voice trembling with the weight
of her decision, tears glistening in her eyes.
"Good, because I don't intend keeping loose ties with our organization. You have one week to
accomplish the execution of our target. I'm afraid Nance Williams will have to die if you don't
accomplish our task on time. You have taken too much time for this. BMO is questioning our
efficiency, and I can't allow a single fly like you to tarnish my organization's reputation. The
Justice Organization has been successful for years, and I can't allow your little past chemistry
with your target to jeopardize our legacy. Understood?" The voice inquired, its tone stern and
unforgiving.
"Yes, sir," Madeline responded, her voice resolute. The person on the other side of the line hung
up, indicating the seriousness and urgency of the task at hand.

Madeline's heart pounded with guilt as she screamed silently within herself while making her
way out from the elevator. "How evil am I to execute the lover of my own daughter? My lifetime
friend, Veronica, who helped me for years?" she questioned herself, her inner turmoil reflected in
her eyes. Realizing that she had made her choices already, choices that she couldn't turn back,
she steeled herself and headed to her car waiting outside the mining area. With determination
etched on her face, she whispered to herself, "I am going to make it," trying to find some
semblance of reassurance in the midst of the darkness that had consumed her soul.
[ 🎵 Creep 🎵 by Radiohead]
Madeline entered her car, the leather seats cold against her skin, and switched on the radio. To
her surprise, her favorite song, "Creep" by Radiohead, began to play, its haunting melody filling
the car. With trembling hands, she pulled out a small bottle containing a potent mixture of
alcohol and drugs. As she took a long swig, the bitter liquid burned down her throat,
momentarily masking the pain and guilt that had consumed her.
The combination of alcohol and drugs began to take effect, her mind ascending to a hazy,
euphoric state. The weight of her actions seemed to lift, replaced by a sense of numbness. The
haunting lyrics of the song resonated with her turmoil, and for a brief moment, she felt detached
from reality. The music surrounded her, cocooning her in a distorted sense of comfort as she
drowned her conscience in the intoxicating blend.
In that fleeting moment, the world outside the car blurred, and Madeline found solace in the
numbing embrace of substances and music. Yet, deep down, beneath the temporary relief, her
inner demons continued to claw at her, reminding her of the irreversible choices she had made.

The haunting lyrics of "Creep" served as a backdrop to her inner chaos, a stark contrast to the
facade of calm she tried to maintain.
Among the big mistake that Madeline made was to reveal herself. The moment Raymond learned
Madeline’s involvement; his fear turned into resolve. Knowing the truth about his enemy made
him feel like a concerned animal, and that’s when he knew he had to fight back. Raymond had
been gathering information about the black-site facility they have been holding him, its layout,
security measures, and the schedules of the guards.
Susan, a once-reluctant member of the kidnapping crew, had grown increasingly tormented by
the heinous acts committed against Raymond. As her conscience wrestled with guilt, she found
herself questioning the morality of their actions.
Regretting her involvement, she confessed, “I signed up for this thinking it was just a means to
an end, but what we’re doing to you…it’s gone too far,” her voice heavy with remorse.
Worrying about potential traps, she voiced her concerns, her eyes reflecting genuine worry.
“How will I know this is not some type of set up?”, Raymond asked.
Sadly, acknowledging the dire situation, she whispered, “Seems pretty much clear to me, you
have only two options. Stay here and get crucified tomorrow or follow me and have an
opportunity of seeing sunlight in your life again,” offering a glimmer of hope amidst the despair.
As the night before his scheduled crucifixion approached, Susan's empathy reached a breaking
point. Unable to bear witnessing the final act of brutality, she made a daring decision to help him
escape. In secret, she planned her move, aware of the risks involved in betraying Madeline.

Abood, another member of the crew, sensed Susan's inner turmoil and confronted her about her
intentions.
“Susan, we need to talk,” Abood said. “I’ve heard that you might be having second thoughts
about our actions.”
“Yes, it’s true,” Susan replied, her voice nervous and hesitant. “I can’t continue to be a part of
this, not after what we’ve done to Raymond. It’s gone too far.”
“Susan, are you sure about this?” Abood asked skeptically. “You know the risks involved in
betraying Madeline.”
“Yes, I know,” Susan replied, her voice filled with determination. “But I can’t live with the guilt
anymore. I need to do something to help Raymond escape before it’s too late.”
“We understand your dilemma,” Abood said, his concern evident. “But we need to be cautious.
If they suspect you, your life will be in danger.”
“That’s right, brother,” Susan said, her resolve unyielding. Despite her fear, Susan's
determination burned bright, her decision made. She was ready to defy the darkness that had
consumed them and make a stand for what was right.
Susan and her brother, Abood executed meticulously planned escape that ensured his success. He
had to trust them as if I wouldn’t trust them, he would be executed in the next morning anyway.
They unchained him, gave him cloth, and led him through an escape route that exited on the
opposite side of the mine, away from his captors. Waiting for him was a prepared car, along with
enough money to cover his immediate needs. They also provided him with a map that guided
him safely out of the mining forest, allowing him to finally break free from the black-site where
he had been tortured to death for so long.

With newfound courage burning within him, he declared, I’ am going to make it”. After a
moment of clarity, he came to realize that he was held at the Leto Gold mines. His mind couldn’t
process anything at that time than finding Nance. He realized that, she was in danger, not from a
stranger but from her own mother.
Living a life built on lies has been a rollercoaster, to say the least. It made him question the very
foundation of trust and authenticity. When the truth started to reveal itself, it was like tearing
down the walls of a house he thought was solid. It was painful because it shattered the reality, he
has constructed for himself, leaving him feeling exposed and vulnerable.
"The thing about the truth is that it has a way of creeping up on you, even when you try to bury it
deep down," he mused. He wondered how he could have been so blind, how he had let those lies
define his life for so long. The anxiety that came with not knowing what else was hidden in the
shadows could be overwhelming. It was like being in a dark cave with only a flickering candle to
light his way, and he was not sure if there was a bottomless pit just inched away from where he
was standing. The fear of what else might come to light, the people he might had hurt
unknowingly, and the consequences he might had faced could keep him up at night. But despite
the pain and anxiety, there was a glimmer of hope in facing the truth. It was a chance to rebuild,
to rediscover who he once was, and to strive for a more honest and authentic existence. It was a
journey of self-discovery and growth, and even if it meant confronting some uncomfortable
truths along the way. He became the villain of himself, trying to defeat the past lies and resurrect
the truth that was buried in his life.
Nance’s successful entry into Raymond's house, driven by the hope of finding clues about his
disappearance, unexpectedly marked the start of her own profound journey towards unravelling
the truth of her own life. Little did she know that the secrets hidden within those walls would

lead her down a path of self-discovery, unveiling layers of her own history and challenging her
perceptions in ways she never imagined. The quest for Ray's whereabouts would become
intertwined with her personal quest for answers, making it a journey of both mystery and self-
revelation.
As she cautiously explored Raymond's house, her journey took an unexpected turn when she
reached the dining room and saw a family picture on the wall. She never saw the whole time she
had been visiting the house, possibly she didn't put much of her attention on it. Among the faces
in the photograph, she recognized someone she was intimately familiar with. It was a pivotal
moment, a spark that ignited her own quest for truth. In that instant, both of them [Nance and
Raymond] found themselves on parallel journeys, grappling with the shadows of their past and
the lies that had shrouded their lives for so long. The pursuit of the truth became a battle against
the version of themselves that had been molded by deception., as they sought to resurrect the
buried truths that held the keys to their identities. In that shared struggle, Raymond and Nance
were not only trying to uncover the mystery of Raymond's disappearance but also confronting
the complexities of their own existence, ultimately becoming heroes of their own stories.
“I’ am going to find you papa”, said herself while starring at the picture on the wall.

[CHAPTER 6]- THE PROMISED DAYS
[7 MONTHS BACK BEFORE RAYMOND’S DISSAPEARANCE]
Raymond's life story has been filled with tragic twists and the shattering of dreams. Once, he had
aspired to be a medical professional, dedicating his life to healing and saving others. It was a
dream nurtured by the admiration he held for his parents who has been known for their
dedication to their community. But withing a single night, all his life was transformed to
something else that he has failed to understand. That dream took a heart-wrenching turn on that
fateful day at the Lato Gold mining site. The brutal massacre of 57 people the Night of 20th
October 2003, including his own father, shattered his world. His mother, Mrs. Veronica
Philemon, vanished without a trace, leaving him with a void of unanswered questions and a
sense of abandonment. Nevertheless, Uncle Sam had been watching him close and kept training
him. He took a huge part to his life. Under his guardianship, his life took a sinister twist. Instead
of pursuing his medical aspirations, he was groomed to become a ruthless killing machine, a far
cry from the compassionate healer he once hoped to be. His dreams of tending to the sick and
injured were mercilessly crushed as his dreams were pushed away by his parents’ plans which
seemed to control his fate. He has lost control of his own fate. Over the time, innocence faded,
and he found himself leading a dark and dangerous path within the Black Mafia Organization
‘BMO’. He worked for them [BMO] for few months before ended up being kidnapped by

unknown captors, who later he realized were Medeline’s crew members. His life took a sharp
upside down, as till this time he’s not sure if his dreams of becoming a doctor would come true
one day or had been washed away already. Raymond has lost a hope of living, as everything
seemed betraying him. He has lived on the foundation of lies, and he couldn’t stand steadfast
witnessing everything that he was believing turning into a false. He wished this would be a
nightmare, but it is a reality that had changed him to be a villain hunting his past, and he's not
sure if he is strong enough to face the hurting truth of his life.
On the fateful night of October 20th, 2003, his world crumbled when his father, Mr. Philemon
Sapuka, and other members of the BMO were brutally murdered. The darkness of that evening
descended upon as they found themselves engulfed in a nightmare. Little did he know that this
night would forever change the course of his life. In the midst of chaos and despair, his mother,
Mrs. Veronica Philemon, made the painful decision to entrust his safety to his uncle Sam. She
handed Raymond over him, knowing that he was willing to protect him at any cost [BMO Blood
and Death Oath Code]. With a heavy heart, Uncle Sam spirited him away from the crime scene,
leaving him behind the lifeless body of his father and a mysterious briefcase that he had claimed
held the key to everything. As they [Raymond and Uncle Sam] fled from the haunting scene of
the crime, he was left bewildered by the cryptic words spoken by Uncle Sam- “Progress with
Plan B”. At that moment, he couldn’t comprehend the significance of those words, but they
would haunt his thoughts for years to come. It was also the last time he laid eyes on his mother,
as she remained behind, alone with his father’s lifeless form and the enigmatic briefcase, forever
trapped in that nightmarish moment of October 20th, 2003.

In a desperate bid to erase any trace of their presence that ominous night, Veronica, meticulously
cleared away the fingerprints they left behind, starting from the house and extending to the
nearby shack. Every surface they had touched was scrubbed clean, and every footstep was
carefully obliterated to ensure that no one would ever discern who had been there.
Yet, darkness of decisions still lay ahead. Mrs. Veronica, facing the unimaginable, retrieved a
gallon of diesel that had been stored in the car. In a chilling act, she doused Philemon’s lifeless
form and the vehicle itself, the very Land Cruiser they had arrived in. With a heavy heart, she
ignited the car, engulfing Philemon’s body in flames.
With a sinister smile playing on her lips, she whispered, "Burn in hell, Mr. Philemon Sapuka.
You deserved this a long while ago," the words slipping from her lips like venomous secrets.
Fingers dancing swiftly over the keys of her smartphone, she typed with purpose, "It's done," and
sent the message to an unknown contact, sealing the fate of her dark deed. Once satisfied that the
message had been delivered to its intended recipient, she crushed the phone in her hand, the
device shattering like her conscience, and then tossed it deep into the dense forest, burying the
evidence of her sinister actions.
Veronica sped through the forest, a sinister satisfaction gleaming in her eyes, having successfully
eliminated Philemon, a crucial figure in the criminal organization. Whispers of reassurance
escaped her lips, "You'll be okay, my son, Raymond."
The path she traveled seemed to lead her to someone special, someone waiting eagerly for her
arrival. A deep, affectionate voice greeted her, "Hello, my love," resonating through the air.
"Thanks, baby," Veronica replied, her smile mirroring the joy in both their hearts.

However, as life often goes, just when everything seemed normal, fate had other plans. "In love,
we often doubt what we most believe," the haunting quote echoed in Veronica's mind.
Unbeknownst to many, Veronica had been entangled in a passionate romance with Colins, her
coworker at Latrex Hospital, where he worked as a psychotherapist.
Their relationship had a tumultuous beginning. Veronica first encountered Colins in 1981 at a
night club. At that time, her relationship with Philemon lacked commitment, and a night of
revelry led to a connection between her and Colins. He was immediately drawn to Veronica,
falling deeply in love with her at first sight.
Their initial encounter resulted in a one-night stand, but Veronica dismissed it as a mere drunken
mistake. Despite her initial reluctance, fate seemed to weave their lives together, creating a bond
that went beyond mere physical attraction. Little did she know, this newfound connection would
play a significant role in her life, shaping her choices and decisions in unforeseen ways.
In the early hours of the morning, a team of police officers, led by the diligent RCO Salum
Motoko, arrived at the gruesome crime scene. To their shock and horror, they discovered a
chilling tableau of tragedy, with a total of 57 lifeless bodies strew behind the scene, among them
Ray's father’s lifeless form. His father’s body was found amidst the wreckage of a torn Land
Cruiser, bearing the registration number D324 ADX, which was traced back to a businessman
named Philemon Sapuka [My father]. A DNA tracing confirmed the harrowing reality that the
charred remains were indeed those of Philemon, Raymond's father. Among the 57 deceased
individuals, 43 were men, and 14 were women, painting a grim picture of the scale of this
horrific event.

RCO Salum Motoko, renowned for his professionalism, joined forces with the NATIONAL
INVESTIGATION AGENCY, NIA agents [Agent Raynolds, Anna and Michael] to unravel the
sinister truth. It became evident that someone else had been present at the crime scene, someone
who, for reasons yet unknown, had detonated the car and possibly orchestrated the murder of
these men, leaving a perplexing web of questions in their wake.
As they meticulously combed the area for evidence, their efforts led them to an abandoned
phone, the very device Mrs. Veronica had hastily discarded in her frantic escape from the crime
scene.
Agent Raynolds: (Excitedly) “Look what we’ve got here, Salum! This phone could be a crucial
piece of the Puzzle”.
Anna:(Examining the phone) “It seems to be in working condition. Let’s check for recent calls,
messages, anything that might lead us to who was here that night”
Michael: (Nods) “Agreed, let me contact our IT guy. But we must proceed carefully. Whoever
was behind this knew what they were doing. We need to tread lightly”
RCO Salum Motoko: (Serious and determined): “This phone could be the beginning of
something bigger. It might just be the ‘Promised days’ we have been waiting for start tearing
down the BMO. Let’s get to work fellas. Our pursuit of justice begins here”.
[23 YEARS BACK]
In the year 1980, Nance Williams’s mother, Madeline Alfred, and Veronica Mickey shared a
heartwarming friendship that blossomed as they walked out of school together. Their bond was
built on genuine affection and trust. They were kindred spirits, often seen with smiles on their
faces and a shared sense of adventure. Through the ups and downs of life, their lovely friendship

stood as a testament to the enduring power of true companionship, a treasure they both cherished
throughout the years.
In their school days, a unique dynamic unfolded among Samwel Julian, Madeline Alfred, and
Veronica Mickey. They all attended the same class and formed a close- knit friendship. While
Samwel Julian harbored deep affection for Veronica Mickey, he struggled with the confidence to
express his feelings. Veronica, on the other hand, was aware of Samwel’s emotions but chose not
to initiate a confession of her own. Medeline Alfred, stood apart from matters of the heart. She
held steadfast to her belief that love was not a path she wished to tread. Instead, she embraced
the notion that being a strong, independent woman was far more significant than surrendering to
love, marriage, and what she perceived as subjugation to a man’s authority, referring to it as a
form of slavery. In their complex web of emotions and convictions, their friendship endured,
marked by unspoken sentiments and differing outlooks on love and friendship.
One evening Madeline Alfred was walking late out from school, her foot stapes echoing in the
empty corridor. The dimly lit hallway felt series as she hurried towards the exit, her backpack
slung over the shoulder. The clock on the wall had struck well past the usual dismissal time. As
she approached the school’s main entrance, she noticed a subtle unease in the air, a feeling that
something was amiss. The sun had already dipped below the horizon, casting along shadows
across the deserted schoolyard. She quickened her pace, her senses on high alert. Just a she
reached the exit; the silence was shattered by the sound of approaching footsteps. She turned to
see a group of 7 unknown strangers emerging from the darkness. Their faces were obscured by
hoods and masks, and they moved with a purpose that sent a chill down her spine. Panicking, she
fumbled for her phone, but before she could dial for help, one of the strangers stepped forward

and grabbed her arm. Fear and adrenaline coursed through her veins as she struggled to break
free, but their grip was unrelenting. It was a terrifying moment of vulnerability as she realized
was at the mercy of these mysterious intruders. She was raped mercilessly. Those men didn’t
only compromise his future life, rather transformed her mind forever.
Her life was irreversibly upended after the traumatic incident she endured. The assault had left
her with deep emotional scars that manifested as relentless nightmares, hunting flashbacks, and
intrusive images of that horrifying night. These tormenting memories would flood her mind at
the most unexpected moments, leaving her in a constant state of distress, her life took a sharp
turn, she couldn’t continue with her studies. She distanced herself from her friends and went to a
distance town. She promised herself that, she won’t abort the child, but she won’t allow any of
those who raped her that Night live.
She was unable to escape the relentless grip of her trauma. Madeline’s once promising academic
journey came to a screening halt. She could no longer bear the thought of attending school, the
place that had once been a source of hope and opportunity. Her textbooks and assignments
gathered dust, as the weight of her ordeal made it impossible to focus on her studies. Instead, she
embarked on a personal journey, one defined by her unquenchable thirst of revenge. She felt that
her assailants had stolen her future, she was demanded to take control of her own destiny.
In the depths of her grief, a fierce determination burned in her eyes. "They have stolen my future,
but I won't allow anyone else to control my fate. I will kill them all," she declared, her voice
laced with a resolute conviction that sent shivers down anyone who heard her. In that moment,
her grief transformed into a steely resolve, propelling her towards a path of vengeance and
retribution. The weight of her loss fueled her determination, igniting a fire within her that would

drive her to the edge of sanity and beyond, all in the pursuit of justice for the life that had been
cruelly stolen from her.
Those people who raped her, made her leave behind the life she had known. She began to
explore the darker side of herself, hoping to rise the spirit of revenge, and hopefully she was
succeeded. She started to explore the darker side of her society too, seeking out individuals who
could help her achieve her goal of retribution. The weight of her loss fueled her determination,
igniting a fire within her that would drive her to the edge of sanity and beyond, all in the pursuit
of justice for the life that had been cruelly stolen from her.
(Confidently): "If evils are made, then I was made into one," she declared, her tone unwavering
and her gaze piercing. In those words, she acknowledged the darkness within her, embracing the
stark reality of her transformation. The confidence in her voice hinted at a turbulent journey, one
that had shaped her into a force to be reckoned with. With unwavering determination, she
embraced the sinister side of her existence, acknowledging it as a means to an end, a tool to
combat the very evils that had shaped her. In her eyes, there was a glint of fierce determination, a
silent promise to navigate the shadows and confront the demons within, all while emerging
victorious on the other side.
Madeline Alfred’s path was fraught with danger and uncertainty, but her determination was
unwavering. The memories of that fateful night fueled her desire for justice, and she was
willingly to go any lengths to make those responsible pay for their actions. As she delved deeper
into her quest for revenge, the line between right and wrong blurred, and her life became a
relentless pursuit of closure and vengeance.

One year after the relentless torment of recurring PTSD [Post-traumatic stress disorder], Her soul
had indeed sunk into the abyss of revenge-seeking. Her pain, anger, and frustration had reached a
boiling point, pushing her to the very edge of the revenge world. The haunting memories of that
traumatic night had transformed her from a once-innocent soul into a determined avenger. What
pained her the most, she had a child whom she didn’t know her real father. Driven by an
unquenchable thirst for justice, she continued her relentless search for the individuals who had
perpetrated that brutal, merciless act upon her body. Her pursuit became an all-consuming
obsession, consuming every thought and waking moment.
It was during the dark period that Madeline finally crossed paths with a shadowy group known as
TJO [THE JUSTICE ORGANIZATION]. This enigmatic collective promised her the means to
achieve the closure she so desperately sought. They trained her, offered her resources, and
network of like-minded individuals who shared her thirst for revenge.
TJO was a very clandestine and deeply dark secretive society, shrouded in the shadows since its
establishment in the early 1887. Its origins were a closely guarded secret, known only to a select
few within its ranks. The primary mission of TJO was to maintain a sinister balance between
good and evil in society by executing contracts on behalf of those who sought their services.
These contracts were often associated with eliminating individuals who posed a threat or had
committed heinous acts. The organization’s unique modus operandi was striking. They
specialized in making their executions appear as suicides, leaving no trace of their involvement.
This covert approach ensured that TJO remained hidden from the prying eyes of government
authorities, allowing them to operate with impunity. When Madeline crossed paths with TJO,
they saw in her a potential asset, a deadly weapon to further their dark objectives. They

recognized her burning desire for revenge and her thirst for justice. Under their guidance,
Madeline was carefully and systematically trained to become their instrument of retribution.
Initially, TJO was established as a security guard company with the primary mission of
protecting people and their properties during a period in the 1800s marked by a high incidence of
murder, disappearances, and property losses. This arose from a dire need for enhanced security
due to the community. As time passed, TJO evolved from being a mere security company into
something more significant. It transformed into an organization with the primary objective of
shoring up the weaknesses in the law enforcement system, exposing corruption among police
officers, and ensuring justice prevailed. This transition led to the adoption of the name “Justice”
as a reflection of their commitment to righting wrongs.
Underneath the façade of a benevolent organization, TJO harbored a deeply concealed dark
secret. Beyond its public mission, it functioned as a covert organization that carried out
executions and targeted individuals who had broken the law, seeking revenge on behalf of
victims in exchange for financial compensation. This covert aspect of their operations remained
entirely unknown to the public, allowing them to maintain seemingly unblemished reputation as
a security company. The organization’s ability to effectively camouflage its true nature made it
virtually untraceable, allowing it to operate in secrecy for years, undetected by those who relied
on its service for safety and protection. Therefore, TJO operated as the security guard company
but deep within the organization it wasn’t just about the normal security guard company, rather a
deadly dark society that brought the so-called peace to the traumatized victims. It was the perfect
place for Madeline, and that’s where her fate revealed her true villain nature that hunt down
those who intruded and ruin her fate.

The TJO dark secret execution organization that performed as the security guard company.
Her training was intense and grueling, covering a wide range of skills, from advanced combat
techniques to espionage and covert operations. She became proficient in the art of disguise and
deception, honing her ability to infiltrate the lives of her targets without arousing suspicion.
Every facet of her being was transformed, molding her into a remorseless killing machine, poised
to execute the organization’s contracts with deadly precision. Her transition was profound and
chilling. She went from being a traumatized victim of rape to a ruthless avenger, driven by a dark

purpose that consumed her soul. Her life was now defined by a relentless quest for revenge,
carried out in the name of a shadowy organization that operated beyond the reach of the law. The
depths to which she had descended were beyond imagining, as she embraced a world of moral
ambiguity, where the line between good and evil had all but disappeared.
Madeline Alfred, operating under the guise of a Reproductive Health Activist, became a master
of covert transportation across the globe. She acted as a passionate reproductive Health
activist, a woman who tirelessly travelled the globe, advocating for women’s
reproductive Health awareness and empowerment. She has been working with the
company known by the name TRIPLE N, LWL (NEW LIGHT, NEW WORLD, NEW
LIFE). This company was just a tiny part of the big dark secret society [TJO]. This was
just their way of operation, they worked with a very high precision and that’s the reason
they were neither heard nor suspected.
[ PRESENT TIME; 1 HOUR AFTER RAYMOND'S ESCAPE]
Abood: (worried) "I can't stop thinking your reckless plan you did back there Susan.
People do stupid for love"
Susan: (furiously) "Hey! Watch your mouth nigga. Being my bother doesn’t make you
God of my feelings”
Abood:(Worried) “I get that, but we made a commitment to our superiors. You know the
consequences for your treason”

Susan:(Smiling) “That wasn’t treason brother. Everything is going exactly as planned.
The car was planted with a GPS [Global positioning system] tracker, and we are tracking
where he is going. It’s all Madeline’s plans”
As Raymond made his daring escape from that ominous black-site, the weight of the
world seemed to press down on him. Susan and Abood’s unexpected assistance had given
him a glimmer of hope, but it was shrouded in doubt. He couldn’t help but wonder if their
help came with ulterior motives. The car they provided felt like a double edge sword. It
was his ticket to freedom, but he couldn’t shake the nagging suspicion that it might be
triggered with a GPS tracker, silently tracing his every move. Paranoia and uncertainty
clouded his mind as he navigated the dark and winding roads.
With each passing mile, he contemplated the possibility that Susan and Abood were
working against him. The risks of falling into a trap weighed heavily on his conscience.
Every turn, every decision, felt like a potential snare. In the midst of his escape, he was a
whirlwind of emotions, torn between gratitude for their hep and the haunting suspicion
that he was walking into a carefully laid trap. The shadows of doubt danced around him,
as he desperately tried to decipher their true intentions, all while racing toward a future
filled with uncertainty.
He made a decisive move. He brought the car to a halt and proceeded to search it
meticulously. His instincts had been right; his fears confirmed when he discovered the
GPS tracker cunningly hidden underneath the vehicle. With a steady hand, he removed
the device and pondered his next course of action. Drawing from the lessons Uncle Sam
had imparted to him about the art of distraction, he decided to employ a cunning strategy.
He ventured into the dense forest that surrounded the Leto Gold mines, knowing that it
was teeming with wildlife. After a grueling and cautious pursuit, he found himself
grappling with a wild pig. His intention wasn’t to harm it; instead, he skillfully attached
the GPS tracker to its leg using a thread. Once the tracker was securely in place, he
released the bewildered creature back into the wild, hoping it would lead anyone tracking
him on a wild pig chase. With the tracker no longer on his tail, he meticulously ensured
that there were no other devices or means of tracing his movements. This elaborate plan
was his means of evading Madeline, the monster who had once posed a benevolent
figure, it was a game of survival, a battle of wits, and it was determined to stay one step
ahead.
Madeline:(Frustrated) “Alright, Susan, we need to find him ASAP. Our tracker shows
he’s in the woods nearby”
Susan:(Confident) “Don’t worry, Madeline. We’ve got this. Let’s follow the signal”
Abood:(Nervous) “Yeah, but what if he’s tricking us? Raymond’s clever”.
Madeline:(Determined) “We’re getting closer, I can feel it”
[suddenly they heard rustling in the bushes]
Susan:(Whispering) “I think I see something. Let’s move quietly”
[A wild pig appears, snorting and grunting]
Abood:(Confused) “Wait, that’s not Raymond!”

Madeline:(Realizing) “Oh no, we’ve been following the wrong signal! Raymond must
have outsmarted us”.
[They watch the pig wander off]
Madeline:(Angry) “This is humiliating. We need to regroup and come up with the better
plan”.
Madeline’s frustration grew, as she couldn’t shake the self-doubt that had crept in. The
fear of Raymond revealing the truth about her haunted her every thought. In a state of
panic, she hastily left the black-site, her mind racing with worry.
(Panicked) “What if he meets Nance and reveal the truth to her? Will she ever forgive me
after all the lies? What have I done?”, asked herself.
Abood, unable to contain his confusion, questioned the necessity of the pointless trick
they had played on Raymond. Madeline, in her intoxicated state, shot him a venomous
glare, leaving no room for further inquiries. Her eyes spoke volumes, conveying a
chilling message: "Ask one more question, and you will meet your end swiftly." The
atmosphere hung heavy with tension, and Abood wisely chose to remain silent,
understanding the gravity of the situation.
Susan, grasping the depth of Madeline's guilt and remorse, devised the seemingly futile
ruse on Raymond. She comprehended that leaving him to perish alone in the unforgiving
cold of the forest was a more merciful fate than the alternative—either a direct execution
at gunpoint or a death sentence declared by Madeline's own lips. In her own way, Susan
sought a twisted form of redemption, attempting to spare Raymond from a more brutal
demise, even though her actions were still steeped in the cruelty of their criminal world.
With a heavy heart, she chose a path that, in her mind, offered a semblance of mercy
amidst the darkness of their deeds.
Susan found herself deeply troubled by Raymond's months-long ordeal of torture. What
had once been just a job, a means to an end, had transformed into something far more
complex. The profound suffering, she witnessed had stirred emotions she hadn't
expected. As her brother's words echoed in her mind, she grappled with the realization
that her feelings for Raymond had taken a romantic turn. Haunted by empathy and an
unexpected affection, Susan's heart weighed heavy with guilt and regret. Her professional
detachment had eroded, replaced by a growing sense of responsibility for Raymond's
fate. The boundary between duty and compassion blurred, leaving her in a state of
internal turmoil, torn between the ruthless world she belonged to and the humanity she
was struggling to hold onto.
In the heart of the dense forest, Susan found herself at a breaking point, her conscience
burdened by the atrocities she had witnessed and, in part, inflicted upon Raymond. With
her footsteps barely audible on the forest floor, she moved a few meters away from the
others, seeking a moment of solitude amidst the darkness that surrounded them. There,
under the veil of shadows, she whispered her heartfelt apology to Raymond, her words a
desperate plea for forgiveness that hung in the chilly air.
"I'm sorry, Raymond, for what happened to you," Susan murmured, her voice barely
audible above the rustle of leaves. "If fate allows our paths to cross again, I will find a
way to make amends for the suffering I've caused you."

With her silent vow lingering in the night, Susan rejoined her comrades, the weight of her
remorse trailing behind her. Together, they retraced their steps through the forest, back to
the base camp where their grim reality awaited. Madeline, now in a drugged slumber,
seemed oblivious to the darkness that clung to their souls, her mind lost in the haze of
substances that numbed her conscience, if only temporarily.
Meanwhile, Nance is in her mother’s room, desperately searching for any clues about
Raymond’s disappearance and the secrets that had been kept from her. Her curiosity
about the truth was insatiable. She was determined to uncover the secrets surrounding
Raymond's disappearance, her real identity, the identity of her father, and the hidden
faces of her mother’s life. It was as if a veil of deceit had been lifted, and she couldn’t
resist the allure of discovering the real story behind it all.
Madeline, on the other hand, felt increasingly sense of urgency to prevent Nance from
Uncovering the truth. She believed that revealing the secrets could shatter the carefully
constructed life they had both been living. She knew that the end of lies and the liberation
of truth had the potential to ruin not only her own life but also Nance’s and Raymond’s.
It was just a matter of time before Nance uncovers the truth about her life. Nance and
Raymond, had indeed been living in a web of lies for their entire lives, and the unraveling
of that web threatened to change everything they thought they knew about themselves
and each other, clearly there are promised days for everything to reveal themselves.
[7 MONTHS BACK SINCE RAYMOND’S DISSAPEARANCE]
During the day of 21th October, RCO Salum Motoko and the three skilled NIA officers
embarked on a tense mission to de-encrypt the phone that had been carelessly thrown into
the dense forest by Mrs. Veronica. With a combination of their expertise and professional
IT support, they managed to break through the layers of encryption that concealed its
contents. As the phone’s files began to unravel, the gravity of the situation became clear.
The information stored on this seemingly innocuous device had the potential to unravel
the foundation of BMO. Mrs. Veronica’s hasty mistake in dumping the phone could
indeed become the catalyst for a chain of events that would expose long-buried secrets
and jeopardize the very existence of BMO.
RCO Salum Motoko’s grave mistake unfolded as he eagerly contacted his superiors to
inform them of the critical intel that had the potential to bring down BMO. Obvious to
sinister web of connections within the organization, Motoko failed to realize that some of
his own superiors were and influential figures in Dane Country were deeply entangled
with BMO criminal activities. In his earnest attempt to uphold justice, Motoko
inadvertently jeopardized not only his own safety but also the delicate balance of power
that had allowed BMO to thrive unchecked.
In the dimly lit room, RCO Salum Motoko, a determined and resolute leader, stood
before his coworkers, his eyes alight with a fierce determination. His lips curled into a
confident smile, exuding an aura of unwavering conviction as he addressed his team.

"This is the beginning of taking down BMO," RCO Salum Motoko declared, his voice
carrying the weight of their shared mission. His words reverberated through the room,
echoing with purpose.
His coworkers, inspired by his zeal, erupted into cheers, their voices blending into a
chorus of enthusiasm and camaraderie. Their belief in their cause was unwavering, and in
that moment, their spirits soared high with the promise of dismantling the corrupt
organization that had plagued their lives for far too long.
With the room buzzing with newfound energy, RCO Salum Motoko's gaze hardened, his
resolve unyielding. "Keep digging on the files to see what else we can find out," he
ordered them, his voice firm and commanding. Each member of the team nodded in
agreement, understanding the gravity of their task. They were united in their pursuit of
truth and justice, ready to unveil the hidden secrets that would pave the way for their
mission's success.
Little did he know that his act of whistleblowing would set in motion a perilous chain of
events, pitting him against not only the criminal organization but also some of his own
trusted colleagues and superiors, making his path to justice a treacherous one.
RCO Salum Motoko, the Regional Crime Officer, had sent a formal request to be
appointed as the OP [Operational Chief] regarding the case number CS#:
DLLGM572003, which involved the pursuit of individuals responsible for a heinous
murder of a total of 57 people at his Region. His request had been accepted, but under a
stringent condition- given the case’s implication on National security, he was obligated to
report every piece of intel he acquired. Additionally, three NIA agents were assigned the
same mission with him to work on the same case [Agent Raynolds, Anna and Michael].
Unbeknownst to RCO Motoko, a sinister twist awaited him. Little did he suspect that
some of his superiors were deeply entrenched within the vast criminal network known as
the BLACK MAFIAN ORGANIZATION [BMO]. Unwittingly, he was being led into a
treacherous trap, completely unaware of the peril that lay ahead.
In the cozy living room of their home, Kennedy Martin, one of the IT experts, sat with his
pregnant wife, Everlin, their faces illuminated by a warm, golden glow. The room was
adorned with the soft hues of sunset filtering through the curtains, creating an atmosphere
of serenity and contentment. Everlin's eyes sparkled with joy, her hands gently cradling
her growing belly, a picture of maternal bliss. Kennedy, with an affectionate smile, rested
his hand on her bump, feeling the subtle kicks of their unborn child.
In a tender moment, Kennedy turned to Everlin, his voice filled with love and warmth.
"I'll be heading to the supermarket, sweetheart," he said, his eyes locking onto hers. "We
need some ingredients for dinner tonight. Is there anything specific you'd like?"
Everlin, her face glowing with happiness, replied, "Surprise me, my love. Just make sure
it's something delicious for our little family."
With a lingering kiss on her forehead, Kennedy gently pulled away and made his way
towards the door. As he stepped outside, the evening air was crisp, and the distant hum of
the neighborhood added to the peaceful ambiance. He approached his car, parked just
outside the house, and reached for the door handle
.
Inside the car, Kennedy felt a cold shiver crawl down his spine as a menacing voice
echoed from behind him. "If you want to survive, and your wife too, don't scream. Just
listen for instructions," the voice commanded, its tone heavy with threat and danger.
Paralyzed with fear, Kennedy followed the ominous directive, his hands gripping the
steering wheel tightly.
His mind raced with a thousand thoughts, and he dared not glance back to see who had
invaded his sanctuary. Kennedy's wife, Everlin, echoed in his thoughts, and he prayed
silently for her safety as he prepared himself for whatever was to come. With his heart
pounding in his chest, Kennedy listened intently, waiting for further instructions from the
unknown assailant. The once-happy evening had transformed into a nightmare, leaving
Kennedy trapped in a web of uncertainty and fear.
Kennedy obeyed the chilling orders, driving his car to an unknown location as directed.
The tension inside the vehicle was palpable, the air thick with fear. When they arrived at
the specified spot, he was ordered to step out of the car. His legs felt like jelly as he
obeyed, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. As he stood there, he saw two
menacing figures approach him. Their faces were concealed behind masks, their bodies
exuding a threatening aura that sent shivers down Kennedy's spine. He felt a surge of
worry, his heart racing, and his body drenched in sweat despite the evening coldness.
One of the masked men handed him a phone, their voice cold and detached. Kennedy
understood the gravity of the situation. It was a deal of life and death. He was instructed
to provide every piece of intel the police officers would be collecting against BMO. The
demand hung in the air like a looming storm, emphasizing the perilous stakes he now
faced.
The masked figures made it clear: any attempt to call for help or leak a word about what
had transpired would be met with swift and deadly consequences. The threat hung
heavily in the air, emphasizing the dire reality Kennedy found himself trapped within.
The weight of the phone in his hand felt like a burden, representing the choices he had to
make in the face of imminent danger.
The man's voice cut through the tension like a sharp blade, his words hanging heavily in
the air. "One last thing," he said, clearing his throat, his tone laden with threat and
finality. He continued, his voice low and menacing, "a man does anything for his family,
right?" It was a rhetorical question, one that needed no answer, for Kennedy understood
the implications all too well.
"Just enter into the car and drive your car to the supermarket," the man instructed, his
words carrying a weighty authority. "Don't act weird, and make sure your wife doesn't
know anything about this."
He approached Kennedy, closing the gap between them, his breath cold against
Kennedy's ear as he whispered, "I will be so disappointed in a man with his PhD like you
failing to complete such a little task." The threat hung in the air, suffocating Kennedy
with the weight of his expectations. As the captors laughed mockingly, they swiftly
entered their car and fled from the scene, leaving Kennedy trembling in fear. When he
looked down at his trousers, he noticed a wet, cold substance seeping down his leg.
Unbeknownst to him, fear had caused him to lose control, and he had unwittingly passed
urine, a humiliating testament to the overwhelming terror that gripped him.
In the dimly lit motel room, Kennedy stood beneath the cascading water, letting the
shower wash away not only the grime from his body but also the lingering fear that clung
to his skin. The droplets splashed off his body, carrying with them the weight of the
choices he was forced to make. The steam curled around him, a temporary shield from
the harsh reality that awaited him outside.
Dressed in fresh clothes, he glanced at himself in the cracked mirror. His reflection
seemed unfamiliar; his eyes haunted by the events of the night. His mind raced, torn
between the loyalty he felt for his family and the duty he owed to his country. The room
felt suffocating, closing in on him like the walls of a prison cell.
As he stepped out of the motel, the world outside seemed surreal. The neon lights of the
motel flickered, casting eerie shadows on the pavement. Every passing car felt like a
potential threat, and every stranger seemed like an informant. His senses were
heightened, his every step heavy with the burden of the information he carried.
In the silence of the night, Kennedy wrestled with his conscience. He couldn't fathom
betraying his country, but he couldn't bear the thought of his family being swept away by
the sinister forces that now controlled his life. The choice weighed on him like a boulder,
threatening to crush his spirit.

As he walked away from the motel, his path uncertain, he whispered to himself, "I won't
let fear dictate my choices. I'll find a way to protect my family without compromising my
principles." The determination in his voice cut through the darkness, a glimmer of hope
amidst the overwhelming uncertainty. With each step, he vowed to navigate the
treacherous waters ahead, searching for a solution that would save both his family and his
country from the impending storm.
Inside the brightly lit supermarket, Kennedy moved mechanically through the aisles,
picking up dinner ingredients as instructed by his captors. His hands, usually steady,
trembled slightly as he placed items into the shopping cart. Each item he picked up
seemed to weigh heavily in his hands, a stark contrast to the mundane task at hand.
Kennedy walked through the front door, his arms laden with bags filled with ingredients
for dinner. The savory aroma of spices and fresh produce filled the air as he entered the
warm cocoon of his home. Everlin, his wife, was already in the kitchen, her hands deftly
moving across the countertops as she prepared to cook their evening meal. The homey
atmosphere, so familiar and comforting, felt oddly surreal under the weight of the secrets
he carried.
He attempted to put on a facade of normalcy, forcing a smile as he greeted his wife.
However, Everlin, perceptive and attuned to her husband's every nuance, noticed the
strain etched on his face. Her concern deepened as she observed his trembling hands and
the distant look in his eyes.

"What's wrong, baby?" Everlin's voice, laced with both love and apprehension, reached
out to him. She took a seat beside him, her eyes scanning his face for answers. "You've
been acting strangely. And these new clothes…" Her voice trailed off, suspicion lingering
in the air. "You better tell me what's going on."
Kennedy sighed, the weight of his secret threatening to crush him. He hesitated for a
moment, his eyes meeting Everlin's as he grappled with the decision to reveal the truth.
Finally, he spoke, his voice tinged with a mixture of fear and determination. "I wish I
could explain everything, Everlin. But it's not that simple. I'm in a situation I can't fully
control. All I can say is that I'm doing this to protect us, to keep you safe."
Everlin, though frustrated by his cryptic response, recognized the desperation in his eyes.
She reached out and placed a hand on his, her touch a reassurance in the midst of
uncertainty. "Kennedy, whatever it is, we face it together," she said softly, her
unwavering support a beacon of hope. "I love you, and I trust you. But please, promise
me we won't keep secrets from each other. We're in this marriage together, no matter
what challenges come our way."
Kennedy nodded, his heart heavy with the burden of his predicament. In that moment,
amidst the ordinary setting of their home, they clung to each other, bound by love and an
unspoken promise to weather the storm together, no matter how fierce it may be.
"The eyes cannot see what the mind doesn't know," Kennedy began, his voice breaking as
tears welled up in his eyes. "You'll not understand, baby," he continued, locking eyes
with Everlin, his voice quivering with fear. "Our marriage is due in the next two months,
but I'm afraid something might happen, baby."

Everlin's eyes narrowed with a mix of confusion, fear, and anger. "What 'mind doesn't
know'? 'You will not understand'? 'I am afraid something might happen'?" she retorted,
her voice rising in frustration. "Please, make me understand. You are threatening me, our
family, our future!"
Kennedy swallowed hard, his throat dry with anxiety. "They told me not to tell you
anything," he defended himself, desperation creeping into his voice. "And if I do, it
means I've put you in danger."
"Who are 'they'?" Everlin demanded, her tone turning fierce. "By the way, you have
already put me in danger, and it's not just me, but our baby too!" Her hand instinctively
moved to her stomach, protectively cradling the life growing within her.
Kennedy's eyes pleaded for understanding, his own fear mirroring in Everlin's gaze. In
that moment, the weight of their shared uncertainty hung heavy in the air, a palpable
reminder of the dangers closing in on their lives. As they faced the unknown together,
their love became a beacon of strength, offering solace in the face of impending darkness.
"Okay," Kennedy said, his voice trembling as he interrupted Everlin. He clenched his
teeth, a visible sign of the immense difficulty he faced. "A few hours ago, right after I
told you I was heading to the supermarket," he continued, his voice shaky, "two unknown
men wearing masks kidnapped me at gunpoint. I didn't recognize them, but they knew
exactly who I am. They knew about my job as the IT expert at the police station. They
forced me to drive to a remote area in the forest where they had parked their car. Then,
they demanded that I leak intelligence about a very powerful criminal organization, the
BMO. It has been a longstanding mystery, but we finally got a lead that we were chasing.
Somehow, they found out we had something valuable, and that's why they came for me."
Everlin stared at him, her eyes wide with disbelief and fear. "I can't see what this has to
do with our wedding," she inquired, her voice tinged with desperation, demanding
answers that could make sense of the incomprehensible situation they found themselves
in. The weight of the truth hung heavy in the air, casting a dark shadow over their once-
happy lives. Kennedy's explanation was a chilling reminder of the danger that lurked just
beyond the edge of their reality, threatening to shatter the life they had known.
In the midst of their dire situation, Kennedy's frustration boiled over as he yelled at
Everlin, his eyes filled with despair. "I can't turn my back on my country," he exclaimed,
his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. He continued, tears streaming down
his face as he looked at his beloved wife, who was carrying their unborn child—a beacon
of hope in their otherwise grim reality. The uncertainty of their child's fate hung heavy in
the air, a reminder of the fragile future that awaited them.
[🎵 I Will Always Love You 🎵 by Whitney Houston]
Everlin, her own eyes brimming with tears, spoke with a wisdom that cut through the
despair. "You have to do the right thing, no matter the cost," she said, her voice steady
despite the turmoil within her. Tears fell from her eyes, mingling with her words as she
continued, "Collaborating with them might offer us temporary safety, but the

consequences of choosing a bad path for the sake of survival are always unimaginable."
Everlin's words carried a weight of moral clarity, a reminder of the strength of their bond
and the values that had guided their lives.
Kennedy, struck by the depth of his wife's wisdom and love, found solace in her words.
They embraced, seeking comfort in each other's arms. In that moment, they made a
conscious choice to cherish the time they had together, finding solace in each other's
presence amid the looming threat. Their love shone brightly, a beacon of light in the
darkness that surrounded them.
They shared kisses, their laughter mingling with the echoes of uncertainty. As they sat
down to dinner, they found moments of joy amidst the fear, savoring the taste of their
favorite dishes as if it might be their last. In each other's company, they found strength
and resilience, refusing to let fear dictate their every moment.
As they enjoyed their meal, Everlin's words lingered in the air, a reminder of their shared
determination to face whatever fate had in store for them. "If fate allows us to live," she
said, her voice filled with a mixture of hope and acceptance, "let's face it the right way.
Let's cherish this moment together, leaving the worries for tomorrow. We don't need to
be consumed by the uncertainty of what lies ahead."
The woman, her face etched with a mix of anger and determination, briskly jogged
through the dimly lit streets, the LPSTF [Leto Police Special Task Force]. logo on her T-
shirt catching the faint glow of streetlights. There was an unsettling tension in the air, a
palpable fear that seemed to shadow her every step. As she arrived home, she shut the
door behind her, shutting out the world and its troubles.
Inside, the apartment was shrouded in darkness, with only the eerie glow of the radio's
dial illuminating the room. The air was thick with anticipation, and the silence was
broken only by the distant sound of "Un-break My Heart" by Toni Braxton, playing
faintly in the background. The woman, still clad in her LPSTF attire, moved with purpose
as she entered the bathroom.
In the dim light, she undressed, her movements mechanical, as if controlled by an unseen
force. The water, icy cold, cascaded over her, causing her breath to catch in her throat.
The music's haunting melody echoed off the tiles, creating an atmosphere of chilling
solitude. As she stood under the relentless stream, she clutched the glass beside her, her
grip tight and unyielding.
The distant sound of laughter and chatter from the living room seemed surreal, a stark
contrast to the intensity within the bathroom walls. The woman tilted her head back, her
wet hair clinging to her face, and let out a raw, almost primal scream. The water washed
away not just the sweat but also a fragment of her anguish, leaving behind a haunting
emptiness. In the midst of her deep sorrow, a piercing ringtone shattered her thoughts,
pulling her back to reality. With a heavy heart, she glanced at her phone, whispering,
"God, not again." The familiar number on the screen filled her with a mix of frustration
and fear, for it represented the people she had dedicated years of her life to. Answering
reluctantly, she muttered, "What is it again?"

The voice on the other end was cold and demanding, informing her that she had one final
task before retirement. Weariness weighed heavily in her voice as she confessed, "I'm
haunted by the faces of the people I've sent to their deaths, the nightmares are tearing me
apart day by day."
Assurances came swiftly, "You'll overcome this, we promise." Seeking answers, she
pressed, "What do you want from me?" The response was chillingly direct: "We have a
loose end to sever, a man named Kennedy Cosmas. He must be eliminated before he
exposes our next move."
Shock washed over her as she realized the target was none other than Kennedy Cosmas,
an IT expert she had worked closely with. Outrage laced her words, "Kennedy Cosmas?
Are you out of your mind?"
The caller persisted, offering a lifeline, "I have a contact in high places. Your transfer
will be guaranteed once this delicate matter is handled. Do we have a deal?" Reluctantly,
she agreed, her voice heavy with resignation, "Deal."
The room was engulfed in an eerie silence, broken only by her labored breaths. Anguish
and fury burned in her eyes as she picked up a crystal glass, her trembling hands
clenching it tightly. In a fit of rage, she hurled the glass against the wall, shattering it into
a thousand glittering shards. The sound of breaking glass echoed through the room,
mirroring the shattering of her trust and the betrayal she felt deep within her soul. The
very thought of being forced to kill her closest friend, the one who had shared laughter
over coffee, taken her out on lonely nights, and welcomed her into his family with open
arms, sent waves of nausea crashing over her. How had she come to this horrifying
crossroad? The weight of her limited choices pressed down on her, suffocating her spirit.
With a primal scream, she let her anger loose, the sound reverberating off the walls like a
banshee's wail. Tears streamed down her face, mixing with the remnants of her shattered
composure. She sank to her knees, crying not only for her friend's imminent demise but
for the loss of her own humanity, the transformation she had undergone, turning her into
a monster driven by survival instincts.
After what seemed like an eternity of tortured contemplation, she rose with a newfound
resolve. In the dim light, she opened a drawer, revealing a sleek, cold metal object – a
gun. Her hands trembled as she prepared it with a chilling determination. She knew, deep
down, that it was either him or her. The harsh reality of her situation sank in, forcing her
to accept the gruesome path she was about to tread.
In the eerie stillness of that moment, her trainer's words echoed in her mind, a grim
reminder of the choices she was forced to make: "In the darkest times, we must embrace
the darkness within ourselves to survive, even if it means sacrificing the light we once
held dear."
With the weight of that truth heavy on her shoulders, she steeled herself for the
unthinkable, her heart pounding in her chest as she ventured into the abyss of her own
making.

The sun's golden rays spilled into the cozy kitchen on that tranquil Monday morning,
infusing the air with a sense of serenity. Everlin, with her warm smile, brewed two cups
of coffee – one for her husband, Kennedy, and another for their dear friend Margareth.
Unbeknownst to Kennedy, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the weight
of impending doom, casting a shadow over the otherwise idyllic scene.
As Kennedy kissed his wife goodbye, his gaze lingered on her face, a silent exchange
passing between them. It was as though he sensed the cold fingers of death creeping
closer, his heart heavy with an unspoken foreboding.
His trembling hands gripped the steering wheel as he drove towards the police office, the
familiar route now laden with an eerie tension. Upon arrival, he went through the
motions, signing the necessary documents, his mind clouded by a sense of impending
dread.
Back at the office, he handed Margareth her cup of coffee, his attempt at a smile faltering
under the weight of the situation. "Everlin made two cups; this is yours," he said, trying
to maintain a semblance of normalcy. Margareth, although aware of the dark secret that
shrouded their interactions, reciprocated the smile, masking her true emotions beneath a
facade of calm. The atmosphere grew heavy with silence as Margareth contemplated the
unthinkable. The person who had cared for her, who had shared laughter and warmth,
was now unknowingly sipping coffee that she had prepared – coffee laced with a bitter
truth. A whirlwind of conflicting emotions tore at her, the guilt of betrayal mingling with
the cold determination of someone who had been pushed to the edge. As she watched
Kennedy, oblivious to the peril that awaited him, she steeled herself for the unimaginable
task ahead. The weight of her actions bore down on her soul, a burden she would carry
long after the deed was done. In that moment, the fragility of trust and the cruelty of fate
collided, leaving Margareth to grapple with the devastating reality of having to destroy
the person who had cared for her the most.
You look weird, are you okay Kennedy? Margareth asked him, after he saw him rushing to the
bathroom a few minutes ago, now coming from the bathroom, his blood pressure seemingly high
as he exhaled heavily, and every part of his body sweating despite the low temperature AC set.
It's just my stomach thing has started again, he defended. His eyes showing fear that was very
vivid.
Kennedy asked Margareth, will you help me if I tell you something as a friend?
Margareth said, no doubt Kennedy, you can ask me anything you want.
Kennedy asked Margareth to follow him, they walked upstairs up to the corridor which seemed
to be off spot.
Kennedy, looking so terrified told Margareth that, he is expecting to get Married to the coming
two months, and his wife is pregnant. For the past two days", he continued, two unknown guys
got into his car unknowingly and asked him to do exactly as they commanded, they wanted him
to report to them every move the police officers make in exchange for the life of him and his
pregnant wife. A man does anything for his family's safety, right? He asked
Margareth, replied yes, that's right. While trying to calm him down, he asked him, who else
know about this?
Kennedy replied, he told no one else other than her

Margareth, after Kennedy told her that he had told no one else, glanced around to ensure no one
was watching. Kennedy's eyes widened in surprise as he noticed her cautious behavior. He asked
her with a puzzled expression, "What are you doing, Margareth?"
Kennedy's eyes widened in shock and fear as Margareth's actions unfolded before him. He
couldn't believe what he was seeing. "Margareth, why?" he stammered, his voice trembling with
disbelief and desperation.
Margareth's expression remained cold and determined. "I'm sorry, Kennedy," she said, her voice
steady despite the gravity of the situation. "But they have my family too. I have no choice." She
tightened her grip on the pistol, her finger hovering over the trigger.
Kennedy felt a wave of despair wash over him as he realized the depth of the deception. He had
trusted Margareth with his life, and now she was the one holding the gun aimed at his head. His
mind raced, trying to find a way out of this nightmare, but he knew he was trapped, caught in a
web of betrayal and intrigue.
As Margareth pulled the trigger, the pistol emitted a soft, muffled click, almost like the sound of
snapping fingers. Kennedy's eyes widened in disbelief. There was no deafening bang, just an
eerie silence that hung in the air. Coldness washed over him, and he gasped for air, realizing he
had only few seconds till his death took him.
The sensation of coldness spread from all over his body. He felt an overwhelming heaviness, as
if an invisible weight pressed down upon him. His heartbeat, once strong and steady, now
faltered like a dying drumbeat.

Images of his family flickered in his mind – Everlin's radiant smile, the laughter of his unborn
child that he would never hear, the warmth of their home that he would never return to. Regret
and sorrow washed over him, mingling with the fear that gripped his fading consciousness.
In those fleeting moments, he found himself desperately yearning for more time – time to hold
his wife once more, time to witness the birth of his child, time to say the words left unsaid. But
fate had other plans, and as the world grew darker, Kennedy succumbed to the finality of his
destiny, leaving behind a life tragically cut short.
In a calculated frenzy, Margareth swiftly dismantled the gun, removing the silencer with
practiced ease. With meticulous precision, she cleaned the weapon and, without a trace of
hesitation, placed it in Kennedy's lifeless hand. She then retreated to the bathroom, where a vial
of potent acid awaited her.
Carefully, she poured the acid over the silencer tube, watching as it dissolved into nothingness,
leaving behind no evidence of its existence. The sink bore no marks of the deadly encounter that
had just taken place within the room.
Returning to the mirror, Margareth met her own gaze, a chilling smile curling her lips. Satisfied
that she had erased any remnants of the crime, she meticulously wiped away the bloodstains
from her clothes, leaving no hint of her involvement.
With cold determination, she composed a cryptic message on her phone: "Loose ties have been
handled. They have everything to tear down BMO." The words were sent into the digital abyss, a
harbinger of chaos and destruction.

Masking her emotions behind a facade of normalcy, Margareth calmly returned to her computer
desk. As she resumed her work, no one would suspect the darkness that lurked beneath her
composed demeanor. The threads of deception were expertly woven, leaving behind an illusion
of innocence in the wake of her lethal actions.
Margareth glanced at the vacant seat that once belonged to Kennedy. With a disdainful tone, she
muttered, "You should have done it, you wouldn't be dead". Her words hung in the air, a chilling
reminder of the ruthlessness that had just unfolded within the police station. Unbeknownst to
everyone around her, Margareth continued her charade, concealing her dark secrets behind a
mask of normalcy.
That was how Kennedy was killed, just like how the promised days his fate had on the store, he
met his demise from a person whom he had been cherishing as their friend.

[CHAPTER 7]- I WISH I KNEW
BMO received an intel from their inside sources that there were concerns regarding RCO Salum
Motoko potentially possessing sensitive information that could pose a threat to the security of
their organization, BMO. Faced with this potential risk, they recognized the urgent need to take
action and prevent any compromise of their organization’s integrity.
The operation to obtain information from RCO Salum Motoko’s office was made considerably
easier due to the knowledge that the installed cameras in the office were not functioning. This
fortune circumstances allowed for a relatively smooth process. During the scheduled
interrogation, Raymond discretely plugged in an undetectable USB [Universal Serial Bus] drive
into one of the office’s available ports. With the camera offline, he had the advantage of being
able to copy all of their data without arousing suspicion or being detected by any security
measures. It was a delicate operation, but the absence of functional cameras played a crucial role
in ensuring the success of their mission. After exiting the police station discretely, Raymond had
a team sent by Uncle Sam to ensure he wasn’t being followed. They provided a crucial layer of
security as he left the premises. Soon, he entered a waiting car, and we headed to the
underground basement located beneath our house, a place where secrecy was paramount. Once
in a secure basement, he knew that the files he had obtained were highly encrypted, and de-
encrypting them required the expertise of the best IT professionals. That’s when Uncle Sam
called upon Abood Steven and Alen Maseko, two exceptionally skilled individuals who both
held PhD from Desmon University. Their reputation for handling complex encryption was
unmatched, and BMO trusted them implicitly to unravel the secrets contained within the USB
drive. After IT experts Abood steven and Alen Maseko arrived at KIA [KITO

INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT], Uncle Sam went to pick them, ensuring they weren’t being
followed. They proceeded to an underground tunnel that led to the basement where their work
awaited.
At the main entrance, a scanner checked them for any potential dangers before granting access.
Inside the room filled with computers, they began working on a USB drive, spending roughly
half an hour de-encrypting its encryptions. As they delved into the files, they discovered
numerous documents marked “CLASSIFIED”. Many of these files had no connection to our
organization (BMO). Nevertheless, they persisted, de-encrypting each file one by one. Their
efforts eventually led them to files related to BMO, the most notorious criminal organization.
Abood Steven: (Exasperated) “Alen, this doesn’t make any sense. We’ve de-encrypted all these
files, and it’s clear someone within the BMO leaked this intel to the police officers”
Alen Maseko: (Nodding) “Yeah, Abood. It’s evident. These files contain highly sensitive
information. There’s no way the police could have known about this operation unless someone
on the inside spilled the beans”
Uncle Sam: (Incredulous) “What are you two talking about? Loyalty within the BMO is
supposed to be Blood and Death Bonded [Blood and Death oath Code]. There’s no way anyone
would betray the organization like this.
Abood Steven: (Frustrated) “I now, Uncle Sam, but the evidence is right here. We’ve decoded
files that link directly to BMO’s operations, and it couldn’t have come from anywhere else”
[As they debate, a sudden beep from the computer interrupts them)
Alen Maseko: (Startled) “Wait, what’s that? Look at the screen”
[They gather around the computer and see a message indicating that a device is actively
transferring details from the BMO to the Police]

Uncle Sam: (Shocked) “This can’t be happening. We’ve a mole within the BMO, and they’re
still actively sending information to the police”
Uncle Sam’s frustration deepens as the realization sinks in that their organization’s security has
been compromised.
On the night of October 20th, Veronica, sensing imminent danger, made a daring move. She
threw her phone deep into the forest, hoping to sever any connection that could lead to her
involvement. Little did she know that her discarded device would be found by the skilled
investigation crew. Upon retrieval, the data from Veronica’s phone provided critical information
that brought the investigation dangerously close to dismantling the entire BMO organization.
Uncle Sam, grappling with frustration and the alarming progress of the investigation made a
drastic decision. He initiated what he called EECPS [Emergence Execution Coding Protocol
System]. Under this protocol, he ordered the IT experts to send an urgent alert message to every
member of the BMO, including Headquarters
“I want everything projected on the screen”, Uncle Sam ordered
“Yes sir”, Abood steven & Alen Maseko replied
“I want every BMO member receive a Notification alert. We are under investigation; therefore,
everything has to stay low for a while”, Uncle Sam ordered
The computer experts within the BMO were very skilled in crafting covert communication
systems. Uncle Sam told them to send the message to the BMO headquarters. To send the alert
message “LE MO N IS BITTER, GO FOR VACATION” in a way that only BMO members
could understand, they used a sophisticated coding system based on a set of rules and

substitutions. Only those familiar with the system and the specific situation within BMO could
decipher the true urgency and instructions embedded in the seemingly innocuous phrase.
The message meant
LE MO N; “Leto is under investigation, Execution |of| Motoko, Operation |is| on.
IS; 1 phase of A.S.R.A.A mission
BITTER; Before the day ends, IT, through email will deliver the next plan. Raymond will be at
this mission.
; the first part of the message concerns 5 agents [Abood steven, Samwel Julian, Raymond
Philemon, Alen Maseko, Prof. Adams Salmon.]
LEMON IS BITTER; Things are bad
GO; plan G, phase 0 is next
FOR; No Further, operation |is| Referred
VACATION; Request for a meeting when the mission is completed
GO FOR VACATION; Initiate a pre-planned evacuation at the Leto Region.
The message sent shockwaves through the organization, instructing an immediate halt to all
ongoing BMO missions. It also delivered the sobering news that there might be a mole within
their ranks, threatening the very foundations of their tightly-knit criminal network.
Uncle Sam: (Determined) “Abood, Alen, I need you to trace whose device has been leaking our
BMO intel to the police. We can’t have a traitor within our ranks”
Abood Steven: (Nodding) “Understood, Uncle Sam. We’ll get to work on it right away”
[They started working on tracing the device. These IT guys were the best at their work,
meticulously going through the data)

Alen Maseko: (Excited) “Abood, I think we’ve found something. These emails, messages, and
call records point to one person, Veronica Philemon.
Raymo: (Surprised) “What! Hell no… That cannot happen. My mother cannot be a traitor.
Something must be wrong”
Uncle Sam: (Disbelief) “Mrs. Veronica? Raymond’s Mother?”
Abood Steven and Alen Maseko: (Confidently) “Yes sir!”
Uncle Sam: (Disbelief) “it’s true what they say, everyone can change. She’s one of the top BMO
continental leaders. So, if she betrayed us, the Whole BMO can go into the dust”.
Words quickly spread to the Headquarters and throughout the BMO network about the shocking
revelation that one of their highest-ranking leaders, Veronica Philemon, has been collaborating
with the law enforcement officers. The news sent shockwaves through the organization as they
grappled with the unthinkable betrayal from Mrs. Veronica Philemon.
Upon hearing the shocking revelation about his mother, he could not believe what he was
hearing. It was as if his entire world has crumbled in an instant. They had always looked up to
his mother as strong and loyal leader within the BMO, and the idea that she had been a snitch all
along was simply inconceivable to them. Raymond didn’t know much about his mother being a
leader within the BMO but the idea that she was a snitch tortured his heart. His initial reaction
was one of disbelief, followed by anger that surged through him like a tidal a tidal wave. His
emotions were in a state of turmoil, and he struggled to come terms with this devastating truth.
The anger within Raymond intensified, leading to an emotional distortion that left him feeling
betrayed, lost, and torn between the loyalty to his mother and to the BMO. His world seemed
turned upside down, and he found himself grappling with a profound sense of confusion, anger,

and heartbreak, as he tried to reconcile the image of his mother he had known with the
unthinkable reality of her betrayal.
Uncle Sam: (Noticing Raymond’s emotional turmoil) “Raymond, I can see that this revelation
has shaken you to your core. I know it’s hard to accept, but sometimes even the most trusted
people can turn into monsters, regardless of the trusted you’ve invested in them”
Raymond: (Frustrated, still in disbelief) “Revelation of promised days, huh. Uncle Sam, I just
can’t wrap my head around it. I thought I knew her. I thought I knew everyone in our
organization”
Uncle Sam: (Placing a reassuring hand on Raymond’s shoulder) “I understand, Raymond. It’s a
tough pill to swallow, but you have to be strong and emotionally mature in times like these. We
have a crucial mission ahead of us at the evening, and we need your focus and determination in
the team. Do nothing stupid”
Me: (Looking up at Uncle Sam) “I’ll do my best, Uncle Sam. But it’s going to be hard”
Uncle Sam: (Nodding) “I know it will be, but remember, strength comes from adversity. We’ll
get through this together, and we’ll make sure justice is served. Trust in yourself, Raymond, and
trust in the team. We’re here for you”.
Raymond went for a short training with Uncle Sam while IT experts were still working on the
encrypted files.
Uncle Sam: (Firmly) “Raymond, put yourself together. Today, we’re paying a visit to RCO
Salum’s house to figure out what else they know about us. We can’t afford another mistake, son”
Uncle Sam addressed the team that everyone has to be prepared, “I’ve just communicated with
our crew members outside the city. They’re ready for the mission ahead”, he said.

They gathered around blue prints of RCO Salum’s house, meticulously examining every detail.
Uncle Sam: (Focused) “This mission should be straightforward. We’ll move in under the cover
of darkness and find out what RCO Salum and other NIA agents know about the BMO. We can’t
afford any slip-ups this time. Understood?”
All: Yes Sir.
The Execution Team, ET20, stood ready for the mission. Raymond couldn’t help but feel the
weight of responsibility as Uncle Sam appointed him, for the first time, as the leader of the team.
His palms were sweaty, and his heart raced, but he had to focus on the task at hand. They arrived
at RCO Salum’s House at precisely planned time, 0205AM, under the shroud of darkness that
camouflaged their presence. The power source had been taken care, plunging the area into deep
shadow. The coordinating IT experts made sure the CCTV camera weren’t functioning the time
of their intrusion. As Raymond entered the darkened room, leading his team, he felt a mix of
worry, fear, and the overwhelming gravity of the mission weighing on his mind. The silence was
oppressive, broken only by the faint sounds of their footsteps on the cold floor. He knew he had
no intention of taking anyone’s life, but for the rest of the crew, leaving no trace behind was their
unwavering objective. Each step he took felt like an eternity, his senses heightened to detect any
sign of occupants. The adrenaline surged through him as he grappled with the uncertainty of
what lay ahead. He couldn’t afford to make a mistake, not with the lives of his team members
depending on my leadership.
The tension was palpable as he navigated through a dark, forbidding environment, armed and
determined. He raised his hand to signal the team to stop, and they huddled in a brief, whispered

discussion. It was that moment he saw RCO Salum Motoko’s girl going to the restroom. He
redirected the rest of his crew into the wrong direction. He just wanted to protect the girl without
them noticing anything. With the other members of the group scattered throughout the house,
searching for the family, he quietly approached the girl, trying to remain inconspicuous. As he
reached her, he gently whispered to her, “Listen carefully, I’m here to protect you. Stay quiet and
follow my lead. Your life depends on it”. Raymond could see the fear in her eyes, but she
seemed to understand the gravity of the situation. His priority was to keep her hidden from the
rest of the group, who were determined to carry out their mission. He guided her to a concealed
spot in the house, ensuring she remained out of sight. At the same time, he needed to be vigilant,
keeping an eye on the other members to avoid suspicion.
“Stay here out of sight till the moment I come back. Even if police officers arrive first, don’t
move from here. Some of them are working for us so I’ am the only one safe for you,
understand?”, he whispered to her
(Hesitating): “I understand”, she replied
With a heavy heart, Raymond witnessed the tragic and unfortunate demise of the girl’s parents at
the hands of the ruthless BMO group. They were heartless in their missions, carrying out the
terrible act in cold blood.
Uncle Sam and three other members of BMO’s ET20 crew finally reached RCO Salum’s room.
In the dimly lit room, they found him deeply asleep, unaware of the impending intrusion. Uncle
Sam, with his fingers, signaled to one of the ET20 members to approach RCO Salum silently.
With gun in hand, he leaned in close and whispered a chilling threat, “You scream, she dies”,
while pointing the gun filled with a silencer at RCO Salum’s wife, who lay beside him in
slumber.

RCO Salum’s heart raced as fear coursed through him. He was jolted awake by the presence of
the intruders and the cold metal of a gun pressed against his temple. His mind raced, trying to
make sense of the terrifying situation unfolding before him. His wife, suddenly awaken by the
commotion, slowly opened her eyes to find herself staring down the barrel of a silenced pistol,
her own life hanging in balance. Fear gripped her, and the room seemed to close in as the gravity
of their predicament sank in.
But Raymond’s focus remained on protecting the innocent girl. As the chaos unfolded, he
managed to keep her hidden, ensuring that she was not discovered by the group members who
were responsible for the brutal act. He stepped into the room and found Uncle Sam and other
ET20 has handled the situation already.
Raymond: (Confidently) “I checked all over the house she is not here”
RCO Salum Motoko: (Worrying as his family’s life hang in balance) “Who are you? And what
do you want?”
Uncle Sam: (Laughing) “We are the type of people that you were not supposed to take a look at”
Raymond: (Whispering, gun pointed at RCO Salum’s head) “Salum Motoko, we’re not here to
harm you or your family. We need to know what the police officers and the NIA team know
about the BMO. It’s a matter of utmost importance”
RCO Salum: (Voice trembling but resolutely) “I won’t betray my oath, no matter the cost”
Uncle Salum: (Sighs) “Really? I doubt that”
Raymond: (Trying to reason) “Salum, this isn’t about you. It’s about the bigger picture. We can
protect your family, but we need information”

RCO Salum: (Firmly) “I can’t. My ethical code, my patriotism, they mean something. I won’t
jeopardize, even for my family”
RCO Salum’s wife: (Crying) “Please my husband. This isn’t just about you and the country. It’s
also about us. Give them what they need, and they will spare our lives. Won’t they?”
Raymond: (Frustrated) “Salum, you don’t understand. This isn’t just about you anymore. It’s
about the lives of countless people, the ones you swore to protect. You can still help us, in
secret”
RCO Salum: (Pausing, torn between duty and family) “I won’t say a word”
Raymond tried to play his part and he thought it was enough, he was never going to say
anything. Ray pointed his gun to Salum’s wife head and pulled the trigger, the blood sprinkled
all over their faces, her brain spread all over the floor.
Raymond: (Furious, while pointing a gun to his face) “will you talk or what?”
RCO Salum: (Regrettably, crying mercilessly) “You have taken away the reason that keep me
alive and expect me to say any…”
Before he finished his sentence Uncle Sam spread his brain to the floor, blood was sprinkling
like a cut water pressure pipe. Josephine was looking through a hole what happened to her
parents. It was a very painful day of her life that she’ll never forget.
Josephine was overwhelmed by a complex mix of emotions as she thought about Raymond, the
man who had saved her life but was also involved in the tragic killing of her beloved mother. On
one hand, she couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of gratitude towards him. He had taken great
risks to protect her and had ensured her safety when her life was in grave danger. She knew that
without his intervention, she might not have survived the ordeal. However, the other side of the
coin weighed heavily on her heart. The image of her parents’ lives being brutally taken away in a

necessary but brutal act haunted her. She felt a profound sorrow and danger towards those
responsible including Raymond. She grappled with the conflicting emotions of owing her life to
him while also resenting him for the loss of her parents’ lives. She found herself caught in a
painful dilemma, torn between gratitude and grief, unable to reconcile the two opposing feelings
she had towards Raymond, the man who had both saved and ruined her life.
Once the terrible ordeal was over, Raymond returned to the house and found her still at the same
spot he left her. She did exactly what Ray told her to do, she was a smart girl.
Raymond: (Breathing heavily) “What’s your name?”
Her: (Frightened) “Josephine”
Raymond: (Empathic) “How old are you?”
Josephine: (Crying impatiently) “17”
Raymond: “Hey, Josephine. Listen to me very carefully”
Josephine: (Clearing tears) “Okay”
Raymond: “If you want to be alive, seems pretty clear to me, you’ve only one option”
Josephine: (hesitating) “And!... what does that supposed to mean?”
She confided in him about her uncle, Abdallah living far from the city. This presented a glimmer
of hope. Raymond knew they had to act swiftly. He provided her with some money and carefully
planned her escape route, avoiding known checkpoints and areas frequented by BMO members.
The group’s relentless search for her continued, but their efforts bore no fruits as he expertly
maneuvered the situation, leaving them in the dark about her whereabouts.
As she made her way out of the city to safety, she saw Raymond as the savior, a beacon of light
in a dark and treacherous situation. She recognized that, despite his association with the group

that had taken her parents’ lives, Ray had risked his own safety to ensure hers. In her eyes, he
became a symbol of hope and a half good person, someone who had tried to make amends in a
world filled with darkness and anger.
A lot of questions were oscillating in Raymond’s mind, as he was staring at the city that slowly
starts to transform his life.
“Am I a good person?”
“Is there a line that distinguish bad and good?”
“Can a single good thing defeat 99 bad things?”
“Would I dare take a downfall protecting someone’s life?”
“Does fate rewards us peace? “
“What will happen if Nance finally know about my dark side?”
“Am I any better than James Jr.?”
He didn’t know answers to any of his questions
“I have to live longer to see where will this fate lead me” he said to himself.
[7 MONTHS LATER]
Nance Williams, having returned home with a head full of questions, proceeds directly to her
mother's room. With a determined purpose, she begins her search, methodically scouring the
room for any clues. Her investigation leads her to an unexpected discovery - a hidden closet
concealed behind a massive bookshelf. The sight that greets her upon opening it leaves her
utterly astounded. Within this concealed chamber, an arsenal of weaponry awaits her. An array
of firearms, varying in size, military-grade gear, unusual clothing, cryptic maps denoting
unfamiliar locations, and an intriguing bag all beckon her attention. It's an irresistible urge that

compels her to unzip the bag and uncover its contents. To her profound shock, she finds clothing
identical to what Raymond had been wearing on that fateful day of his abduction.
An entanglement of emotions swirls within her - disbelief, suspicion, and profound confusion.
Could her own mother, Madeline, a renowned Reproductive Health Activist, be entangled in the
abduction of Raymond?
As She continued to search the room, she found more items that didn’t align with her image of
her mother. The pieces of this mysterious puzzle were falling into place, but they painted a
troubling picture, leaving Nance torn between loyalty to her mother and the mounting evidence
pointing to a darker truth.
Her heart raced as she dialed Raymond’s phone’s old number, her anxiety mounting with each
passing second. Then, unexpectedly, a faint vibrating sound emanated from the drawer of the
table beside her. She hastily pulled it open, and there it was, unmistakably Raymond’s phone.
The moment of surprise was alike a lightning bolt, jolting her to her core. Her mind raced, trying
to make sense of this shocking discovery. It was as if the image of her mother, Madeline, as a
motivational figure, was rapidly transforming into something far more sinister. Tears welled up
in her eyes as a whirlwind of emotions overtook her. Her mind wandered back to the days when
Ray had gone missing, and she had initially been to blame him, suspecting that maybe he had left
her for another woman. She remembered the countless sleepless nights filled with anger,
frustration, and tears as she questioned his loyalty and commitment. Now, faced with the painful
truth that her ow beloved mother had conspired in his kidnapping and had taken him to unknown
location, regret washed over like a tidal wave. She felt deep sense of remorse for ever doubting
Raymond, for allowing her emotions to cloud her judgement, and for not seeing the signs that

pointed to a far more sinister plot. The weight of her misplaced blame and the realization that
Raymond had been an innocent victim in all of this weighed heavily on her conscience. It was a
bier pill to swallow, knowing that the person she had loved and trusted the most had suffered
unjustly because she had wrongly accused him. The guilty and regret were almost unbearable,
adding another layer of pain to an already devastating situation. She felt betrayed, confused, and
utterly alone in that moment. Her world had been upended, and she had no idea where to turn or
whom to trust. The weight of the situation bore on her, leaving her feeing utterly helpless and
overwhelmed by the implications of what she had uncovered.
After Raymond’s escape from the black-site, Madeline found herself facing a desperate situation.
She knew that he would eventually seek out her daughter, Nance Williams, and reveal the dark
truth about her mother’s involvement in his kidnapping. Determined to prevent this revelation,
she hurriedly got into her Beamer BMW [BAYERISCHE MOTOREN WERKE] car and started
the engine. With adrenaline pumping, she accelerated to an alarming speed, racing from Leto
Gold Mines towards the Kito Region, where they’ve been living. As she sped down the road, a
multitude of questions and fears swirled in her mind. She realized that the fate of her mother-
daughter relationship hung in the balance, teetering on the edge of a life- altering revelation that
could shatter the world she had carefully constructed around Nance. Desperation and anxiety
fueled her journey, as she contemplated the difficult decisions, she would need to make to
protect her secrets and maintain the facade she had built for so long. She had no inkling that her
worst fears had already come to pass. Unbeknownst to her, Nance had discovered the unsettling
truth about her mother’s involvement in her most beloved lover kidnapping. Teras streamed

down Nance’s face, fueled not only by hunger but also by a profound sense of betrayal from her
own flesh and blood.
Meanwhile, Madeline’s thoughts were a turbulent storm of worry, frustration, and confusion.
She couldn’t help but imagine the potential consequences of Nance uncovering the dark secrets
she had desperately tried to conceal. The mere thought of her daughter’s reaction, the anger,
disappointment, and hurt, weighed heavily on Madeline’s heart. Her mind raced with scenarios
of a shattered mother-daughter bond, the consequences of her own actions haunting her every
step of the way as she raced against time, unaware of the reality that had already unfolded.
(Teary-eyed face) “What if I tell her the truth”? asked herself.
(Crying in regret) “And what kind of a mother would that make?... the one who dared to kidnap
and take away the only thing her daughter wanted”.
She arrived home at precisely 0713PM., an eerie feeling settled in her gut. The darkening
evening was disrupted by unsettling screams and the sound of shattering glass as she approached
her front door. Her heart pounded with dread, and a chilling thought raced through her mind: had
something terrible happened to her daughter, or had an intruder breached their sanctuary?
With worry intensifying, her instincts kicked in. She swiftly retrieved her gun, her grip
tightening as she carefully advanced toward the source of the anguished cries. Each step taken in
her soldier-like manner brought her sense closer to the room from which the screams emanated.
As Madeline, gun in hand, pushed the door open, it burst inwards with a sudden and intimidating
sound. Inside, Nance, tear-streaked and terrified, had been crying inconsolably all day, grappling
with the crushing realization that her own mother was the monster she had feared all along. Her
wide-eyed astonishment at her mother’s armed intrusion and calculated movements only

solidified her perception of Madeline as a wolf in sheep’s clothing, a disguise for a hidden life as
a soldier or mercenary. In that chilling moment, the truth became painfully clear to Nance. Her
mother was not the protector and confidant she had believe, but rather a formidable and
enigmatic figure, a revelation that left her with no doubt that her mother was, indeed a monster in
her own right.
Nance: (Quivering, feeling panicked, crying, worried, confused) “Mom, I can’t believe what I
just found out. It’s all been a lie?
Madeline: (Teary-eyed) “Nance, I…I didn’t want you to know. I thought it was best for you”
Nance: (Crying) Best for me? Mom, my whole life has been a lie because of you. All this time,
you have been the monster that you… you had been lecturing me to stay away from. I can’t even
believe you are my mother”
Madeline: (Regretting) “But, I…”
Nance: (Furious, screaming) “Don’t…Don’t tell me you did all of that for me...What…what kind
of a mother are you?”
Madeline: (While approaching Nance) “I know you are angry because of me. I didn’t tell
anything about the truth. I did that to protect you, Nance…my daughter…”
Nance: (Crying furiously while pushing Madeline into the wall then punching her into the face)
“Liar! Liar! Liar! Killer! Kidnapper! Murderer! Why …why…”
Madeline: (Coldly) “I know you are upset because of what I did…but ever… everything is going
to be okay”
Nance; (Screaming helplessly) “I can’t be a daughter of a killer. I will never be your daughter.
You killed my dad…who I…I…never actually saw…Ray…Raymond…my lover”
Madeline: (Crying) “You will be okay darling. You have to accept the reality of truth”

Nance: (struggling to breath) “I wish…I…knew you…you… were…the…the monster”
Madeline: (Rushing and hold Nance as she was falling to the ground) “Ooh
God…what…what…have I done?”
Nance: (snoring) “I…I…”
Madeline’s heart ached with regrets as she watched her daughter slump to the ground,
unconscious. She wished she had found her a better way to reveal the truth about Nance’s life,
fearing the overwhelming confusion and worry that had now overtaken her child. Madeline’s
frantic call to 717 for an ambulance was a desperate attempt to right the situation and provide
Nance with the care she needed, but the weight of her choices and their consequences bore
heavily on her mind.
Madeline’s relationship with her daughter was teetering on the edge, a result of years spent
feeding a web of lies. The fragile trust between them had crumbled, and the revelation of these
long-hidden truths had pushed them further apart. Lies have an insidious way of hunting
someone down till the truth inevitably surfaces. Like shadows lurking in the background, they
cast doubt and uncertainty over every interaction, slowly eroding the foundation of trust.
Madeline gad hoped to protect her daughter from pain, by not telling the truth, but instead, those
very lies became the source of their deepest wounds. In the depths of her guilty and regret,
Madeline saw herself as the villain in her daughter’s life story. She had played a role in
constructing a false reality, a narrative that was unrevealing before her eyes. The weight of her
deception hung heavy on her conscience, knowing that it had cost her the most precious
relationship of all-the one with her own child.
Madeine: (Teary-eyed, regretting) “I wish I knew all of the things would finally fall apart”, said
to herself.

Madeline: (Anxious) “Please, doctor, you have to help her. My daughter, Nance, she collapsed
after we were making arguments about something”
Doctor: (Calm and reassuring) “I understand your concern, Madeline. We’ll do our best to take
care of Nance. Can you tell me more about what happened”
Madeline: (Nervously) “Well, I’ve been keeping secrets from her for so long, and when I…I
finally told her the truth, she just…she lost consciousness. I’ am not a bad mother, I know that,
and I never meant for any of this to happen”
Doctor: (Compassionate) “I can see that you’re deeply worried. Let us take care of Nance first.
Our team will do everything we can to stabilize her. We’ll keep you updated on her condition”
Madeline: (Reflective) “Thank you, doctor. This situation has made me realize how much
damage my lies have caused. I need to find a way to make things right, to rebuild the trust I’ve
shattered”.
Doctor: (Supportive) “it’s never too late to make amends, Madeline. Start by being honest with
yourself. It may take time for her to regain your trust but over time you can work towards more
trustful and better life between you two. Our hospitals also offer counseling services that could
help”
Madeline: (Determined) “Yes, I’ll do whatever it takes to earn back her trust and give her the
love and honest she deserves”
Doctor: (Encouraging) “That’s a step in the right direction. Let’s focus on Nance’s health for
now, and we can discuss a plan for the future she’s stable”.
Nance was diagnosed with SIC [Stress-Induced Collapse]. This is a medical condition where
extreme stress or emotional overload can lead to a sudden and temporary loss of consciousness.

It’s often triggered by overwhelming emotions or traumatic experiences, and the body essentially
shuts down as a response to the stress. The doctor’s reassured Madeline that her daughter would
be okay. With the time and proper care, individuals with SIC typically recover. However, it can
be a frightening experience for both the person going through it and their loved ones.
Madeline filled with worry and guilty, had been waiting anxiously in the resting room while her
daughter received medical attention. She breathed a sigh of relief when Nance finally regained
consciousness, relieved to see her daughter starting to recover from the distressing episode. As
she slowly regained her consciousness, her eyes welled up with tears once again. She desperately
wished that this was all just a terrible dream, but the harsh reality was undeniable. Everyone she
had trusted and loved had been lying to her, and the weight of that truth bore down on her like a
heavy burden. In that vulnerable moment, Nance realized that she faced a difficult choice: to
either accept the painful truth and control the shattered trust in her world or to continue pushing
herself to unravel the layers of deception that had been woven around her.
Madeline watched her daughter with tears glistering in her own eyes, a reflection of the profound
sadness that engulfed them both. It was a moment of heart-wrenching sorrow, as a once-close
mother-daughter relationship stood on the precipice of irreparable damage, the pain of betrayal
and truth cutting deep into their souls.
As Madeline set out her mission to rebuild the fractured both with her daughter, her heart was
filled with the hope of reconciliation and healing. She brainstormed ways to mend the trust that
had been shattered by the revelations of her hidden life, determined to make amends and bridge
the emotional chasm that had formed between them. However, Unbeknownst to Madeline,
Nance’s thoughts were fixated on a different path. Amidst the chaos of her emotions, she held
onto one singular belief: that finding Raymond was the key to unlocking the truth she so

desperately sought. In her heart, she trusted Raymond as the only person who could provide the
unvarnished truth about her mother’s actions. This conviction fueled her determination, and
while Madeline was planning to rebuild, Nance was plotting a journey to discover the ultimate
truth, even if it meant venturing into the unknown.
Realizing the gravity of the situation and the emotional turmoil that had enveloped her daughter,
Madeline made the difficult decision to leave her home once more, this time with a renewed
sense of purpose. She knew that she had to take action to help Nance navigate this tumultuous
chapter in their lives. With determination in her eyes, Madeline left the confines of her home,
heading out to prepare something meaningful for her daughter. It was a step she felt compelled to
take in order to mend the fractured bond between them and offer Nance some semblance of
comfort in these trying times. As she continued to drive her BMW homeward, tears streamed
down her face, reflecting the profound regret she felt for the consequences of her hidden secrets
and the pain it had caused her daughter. Each tear seemed to was away a layer of the facade she
had carefully built, leaving behind a raw and emotional truth she could no longer ignore.
In the solitude of her car, her thoughts drifted back to that fateful night, the 25th of February in
1980. It was a night etched into memories., a night that had forever altered the course of her life.
The vivid, haunting memories resurfaced, reminding her of the seven strangers, men who had
cruelly and brutally raped her, and shattered her sense of security and innocence. It was an ordeal
she would never forget, a trauma that had shaped her actions and choices in ways she had hidden
from her daughter for far too long. On that fateful day, Madeline had planned to spend with her
best friend, Veronica Mickey. They were inseparable, living in the same neighborhood, and had
never once broken their tradition of going out together during vacations. However, as the clock
ticked past 0930PM, Veronica grew increasingly concerned. Madeline should have returned

from school by now, and this deviation from their routine was highly unusual. Worry gnawed at
Veronica’s heart, and she decided to take action. She grabbed a torch for illumination and a Golf
iron club for defense, knowing that something might be seriously amiss with her best friend.
With resolute determination, she set out on the path to the school, determined to find out what
happened to Madeline. As she crossed a certain bush on her way to the school, her torchlight
revealed a disturbing scene. Madeline’s belongings were strewn about haphazardly- her shoes,
school bag, and even her skirt lay torn into pieces. Panic and gear gripped Veronica’s heart as
she realized the gravity of the situation. Her Heart skipped a beat as her torchlight revealed the
unconscious body lying on the ground. Fear and dread washed over her as she rushed closer,
hoping against hope that it wasn’t her best friend, Madeline, her hands trembled as she knelt
down, carefully examining the figure, praying that it was not as dire as it seemed. The eerie
silence of the night was punctuated only by her rapid breaths and the faint rustling of leaves,
creating an atmosphere of tension and uncertainty that hung heavy in the air.
[Sad music playing…]
Her heart pounded with urgency as she rolled Madeline’s unconscious body and confirmed her
worst fear-it was indeed her best friend, Madeline, lying there, teering on the precipice of life
and death. Determined to save her, Veronica knew that time was of essence.
As she desperately worked to revive her unconscious friend, her inner dialogue was filled with a
mix of fear, determination and heartfelt please:
(Whispering with tears in her eyes): “Come on, Madeline, don’t leave me alone, please! I can’t
imagine life without you, darling. I’m right here, with you.”
With steady hands, she loosened the tie that had been strangulating Madeline, allowing her to
breath more freely. She wasted no time and began administering first aid, performing mouth-to-

mouth resuscitation and applying chest compressions. With each breath she gave and every
compression, she could sense Madeline’s body responding. The minutes felt like hours as
Veronica continued her life-saving efforts, refusing to give up. Gradually, Madeline’s breathing
began to stabilize, and her heartbeats returned to a normal rhythm. In that critical moment,
Veronica’s swift and decisive actions had made all the difference. Without her intervention,
Madeline’s life would have been lost, a testament to the unwavering bond of friendship and the
power of determination in the face of adversity.
Madeline held the memory of Veronica’s sacrifice close to her heart. It was a selfless act that she
could never forget. Veronica, her dear friend, had made a life-altering decision by dropping out
of school to support Madeline. She left her education behind and ventured into the unfamiliar
territory of the mining industry, working diligently as a secretary. Madeline was deeply moved
by Veronica’s dedication and the lengths she went to for her sake. It wasn’t just about leaving
school; Veronica had inserted herself into the Sapuka billionaire family, ultimately marrying into
their prestigious lineage. Through this newfound connection, Veronica had success to immense
financial resources that she used to support Madeline during challenging times. But Veronica’s
commitment didn’t end there. Madeline knew her friend was on a mission of her own. With the
influential Sapuka family at her side, Veronica was quietly but determinedly pursuing justice for
a past injustice. 7 men had committed a terrible and unexplained act against her friend, and
Veronica was unwavering in her quest to track down those responsible. Madeline admired
Veronica’s resilience, strength, and unwavering loyalty. She saw in her friend a true embodiment
of sacrifice and friendship. The memory of what Veronica had done for her was a constant
reminder of deep bond they shared and the incredible lengths people would go to for those they

cared about. Madeline felt eternally grateful for Veronica’s sacrifice and remained supportive of
her friend’s mission to seek justice and closure.
The burden of secrets weighed heavy on Madeline’s heart, and one of the most difficult truths
she had kept from her daughter was the fact that she didn’t even know the identity of her real
father. She was raped by 7men and among of them could be Nance’s father.
(Crying helplessly): “Should I tell her, I was raped by 7 men, and among the men could be her
father? What does that make me?”, asked herself.
The thought of revealing this painful piece of information was like a deep, unhealed wound that
she had hidden for years. Each time contemplated sharing this truth with her daughter, a wave of
guilty, shame, regret, and anxiety washed over her. She knew that it was a revelation that could
shatter Nance’s world even further, adding another layer of complexity to their already strained
relationship. The weight of the unspoken truth had left Madeline in a perpetual state of anguish,
torn between her desire to protect her daughter and her longing to be honest with her. It was a
daunting and heart-wrenching task she knew she couldn’t avoid forever, but finding the right
time and way to broach the subject remained an agonizing challenge.
Madeline, after a tumultuous day of revelations and emotional turmoil, finally arrived back
home. The weight of the past and the urgent need for reconciliation with her daughter, compelled
her to take a moment to regroup. She decided to start by freshening up. With the warm water
from the shower washing away the residue of her teras and the day’s stress, Madeline began to
feel a renewed sense of purpose. She was determined to make amends and rebuild the trust that
had been shattered between them. Her first step in this journey of reconciliation was to prepare

Nance’s favorite meal. Madeline carefully cooked a dish that she knew would bring comfort and
warmth to her daughter’s heart. It was a homemade lasagna, savory cheese, and all the
ingredients that Nance loved. Each step in the preparation was infused with a mother’s love, a
symbol of her desire for a fresh start. After preparing the meal, she packed it with care, ensuring
it warm and inviting. She decided to make Nance’s hospital; stay a little brighter by stopping at
the flower shop. There, she selected Nance’s favorite flowers, vibrant and full of life, to
accompany the meal. With the aroma of the lasagna filling her car and the flowers adding a touch
of color and beauty, she embarked on the journey to the hospital where she had left Nance
earlier. She hoped that this gesture would be the first step towards rebuilding their relationship, a
small offering of love and reconciliation after the storm od secrets and revelations that had
broken their lives.
As she arrived to the hospital with heart filled with hope for reconciliation, her world came
crashing down in an instant. She rushed to the room where she had left Nance earlier, only to
find it empty. Panic coursed through her veins as she desperately searched the room, hoping that
her daughter had simply stepped out briefly. Frantic and increasingly worried, Madeline
approached the hospital staff and security, but their puzzled expressions only deepened her
distress. None of them had any knowledge of Nance’s whereabouts or any record of her leaving
the premises. The realization hit her like a freight train-hit her daughter was missing, and no one
at the hospital had a clue.
[Sad music playing at the background]
A storm of sharp worry and gut-wrenching pain surged through her heart, pinning her in a
moment of anguish she had never felt before. She was torn between fear, guilty, and a desperate

need to find Nance. The uncertainty of her daughter’s whereabouts and the questions that loomed
in her mind were overwhelming, and in that agonizing moment, Madeline’s world crumbled
around her.

[CHAPTER 8]- THIS IS IT
[ Hurt by Johnny Cash playing]
In the midst of all that has transpired, Raymond stands at a crossroads, confronted with the
arduous choice to distance from the chaos and embark on a journey of self-reconstruction.
Within him simmers a persistent uncertainty, a notion that he maybe entangled with the
enigmatic criminal organization, a notion deeply buried in his psyche.
It has been three enduring months since his cherished Nance Williams mysteriously vanished
from the GK Hospital. During this time, he has lived in seclusion, evading the relentlessly comb
every nook and cranny of Dane Country in relentless search of him. The ceaseless broadcast on
radio and television brand him as Nance’s abductor, magnifying the relentless manhunt. His only
recourse is to remain ever vigilant, concealed, until he can vindicate his besmirched reputation
and unravel the labyrinthine conspiracy that ensnares him.
[23 YEARS BACK]
Madeline and Veronica shared unbreakable bond that transcended ordinary friendships. They
were willing to go any lengths for each other, even if it meant risking their lives for each other,
or facing death itself. In their shared history, they had already proven their unwavering
commitment to each other by making significant sacrifices, such as abandoning their studies and
taking drastic actions. This deep connection was built on trust, loyalty, and a shared sense of
purpose, binding them together in a way that made them formidable allies. The events of their
past had forged a bond that was unbreakable, a testament to their willingness to do anything for
each other, even in the face of moral danger.

Veronica’s father, Mickey: (With a stern expression) “Veronica, we’ve always emphasized the
importance of education in this family. It’s the key to a brighter future. Why on earth have you
decided to quit school?”
Veronica: (Nervously) “Dad, Mom, I just can’t do it anymore. School doesn’t feel right for me. I
have other plans and dreams that don’t involve textbooks and classrooms.”
Veronica’s Mother (Lauren): (Exasperated) “You are throwing away the golden opportunity,
Veronica. Do you know how many kids would love to be in your position?”.
Veronica: (Teary-eyed)” I know, but I need to follow my own path. I promise I’ll make
something of myself, just not through traditional schooling.”
The tension in the room hung heavy as Veronica’s parents struggled to comprehend her decision,
feeling deeply disappointed by what they saw as an irrational choice.”
After Veronica, without disclosing her reasons, informed her parents about her decision to drop
out of school, it left her family concerned and puzzled. Her father, Mickey Mills, was determined
to support his daughter during his uncertain phase in her life. Mickey had a friend, Mr. Sapuka
Johnson, whose family was known for their immerse wealth, often described as a billionaire
family. Sapuka ad their fingers in various lucrative business ventures, including a mining
company.
Veronica, despite her decision to leave school, was an exceptionally intelligent and beautiful
young woman. Her potential was evident to those who knew her. This included Philemon
Sapuka, Sapuka Johnson’s only son, the hair to the Sapuka family fortune, who happened to
meet Veronica when he visited one of their mining companies.
Philemon Sapuka was struck by Veronica’s intelligence, beauty, and, most importantly, her
strong sense of independence. As they go to know each other, their connection deepened, and it

became clear to Philemon that he had found someone truly special. He admired her courage in
pursuing her own path, even if it meant leaving behind the traditional educational route. Their
bond grew stronger, and eventually, Philemon decided to take a life-altering step: he proposed to
Veronica Alfred. He saw in her not just a life partner but a kindred spirit, someone who shared
his values and ambitions. Veronica, touched by his sincerity and captivated by their shared
connection, accepted his proposal. Their love story became a testament to how life’s unexpected
turns can lead to remarkable opportunities and relationships. Despite the initial uncertainty
surrounding her decision to leave school, she found herself on a new path, one that included a
loving partner and a promising future within the influential and affluent Sapuka family.
On February 26, 1981, Veronica and Philemon Sapuka celebrated their wedding day. It was the
biggest wedding ever happened at the Kito city. It was a special occasion, but what made it even
more significant was the fact that Veronica was already six months pregnant at the time. Three
months later their joy was complete when Veronica gave birth to a son named Raymond
Philemon. The arrival of their son filled their family happiness and sealed her trust in their
family’s bond. Shortly after my birth, Veronica was introduced to the operations of BMO
[BLACK MAFIAN ORGANIZATIO], a very secretive entity secretly controlled by the SMCs [
Sapuka Mining Companies]. These companies were involved in clandestine activities, including
money laundering. Veronica became privy to this hidden world, which added a layer of
complexity to their family’s life.
Veronica: (Excitedly) “Madeline, I met someone today during my BMO travels. His name is
Abuu Musabi, and he’s the country Coordinator for TJO [THE JUSTICE ORGANIZATION].
They’re doing incredible work, and I thought about you”
Madeline: (Curiously) “Really, Veronica? What’s TJO all about?”

Veronica: (Passionate) “TJO is mercenary group for executioners, killers and people fighting for
their vengeance. TJO is focused on Justice and making the world a better peace place. They fight
corruption, promote human rights and aim to bring about positive change, they work under the
shadow purpose as the security guard company.”.
Madeline: (Interested) “That sounds like a noble cause. But how can I be a part of it?”.
Veronica: (Grinning) “Madeline, you’ve always been my best friend, and I know you’re capable
of making a real impact. With your skills and dedication, you could contribute a lot. Plus, our
long-term relationship with BMO gives us a unique opportunity”.
Madeline: (Curious) “What do you mean?”
Veronica: (Explaining) “Well, through my BMO connections, I believe I can help you join TJO.
We have the resources and connections to support your involvement, and it would be an
incredible way for us to honor our friendship by working together for a greater good.”
Madeline: (Touched) “Veronica, that means the world to me. I’ve always admired your
dedication to making difference. Let’s do it this together and make a positive impact on the
world through TJO.”
Veronica: (Smiling) “That’s what I wanted to hear, Madeline. Together, we can make a
difference that will last a lifetime.”
[ Country music playing at the background]
As Madeline prepared for her pivotal interview with Abuu Musabi, TJO Dane Country
Coordinator, a series of doubts and questions were swirling in her mind like a tempestuous
storm. The weight of her past experiences and the uncertain path she was embarking upon

weighed heavily on her. She wondered if seeking justice for the seven men who brutally raped
her was the right path, or if the vengeance would consume her.
“What if the pursuit of justice leads me into a perilous labyrinth from which there will be no
escape? Would I ever find those responsible? Does seeking a revenge make me a lesser evil than
them, if yes, would that bring me peace? Do I have to be a killer to have my peace? How would I
explain these decisions to my beloved daughter? Am I a good person fair enough to deserve
peace?”, asked herself
These doubts and questions were the tempestuous waters she had to navigate as she ventured into
this life-altering interview, ready to confront her past and her future.
“Let’s see how far my vengeance would take me”, she said while rushing to the car heading to
the TJO office for interview.
Abuu Musabi: (Sincerely) “Madeline, your determination and intelligence are impressive.
Before we proceed with your involvement in TJO, I need to ask you something. What will you
do if, in your pursuit of justice, you don’t find those seven men who assaulted you? And, have
you considered the emotional toll of seeking vengeance?”
Madeline: (Thoughtful) “Abuu Musabi, those are valid concerns. I’ve thought long and hard
about this. While finding those men is my initial motivation, my ultimately goal is not just
vengeance. It’s about ensuring that justice prevails, and others are protected from such horrors.”
Abuu Musabi: (Intrigued) “That’s a noble goal, Madeline. But what if the pursuit of justice
becomes too overwhelming, and it compromises your life or safety?”.
Madeline: (Resolute) “I’m aware of the risks, but I believe that the pursuit of justice is worth it.
It’s about making the world a safer place for my daughter and future generations. I’m willing to
face whatever challenges come my way.”

Abuu Musabi: (Making eye contact) “Assuming one day you realize what you’ve been
searching for, was your friend’s doing. Will you give up on yourself for the sake of your friend’s
life or accomplish the act for the sake of your peace and TJO’s agenda?”.
[With a serious gesture, Madeline is approaching Abuu’s face]
Madeline: (whispering to his ear) “In case you didn’t know, I hate the word ‘assumption’.
Secondly, I believe on the fate-balance, we all do. My decisions would creep along the balance,
and whatever the side would weigh, I will take the chances. For every outcome, I’d hold myself
accountable for it as I know I wasn’t forced to do any of it”.
Abuu Musabi: (Understanding) “I appreciate your determination, Madeline. If things go as
planned, you’ll be the killer of your daughter’s father. Have you thought about how you’ll
explain your decisions to your daughter?”
Madeline: (Softly) “That’s a conversation I hope I won’t have to have, but if it comes to that, I’ll
be honest with her. I’ll tell her that I did everything I could to make the world better for her and
others. I’ll teach her the importance of standing up for what’s right, even in the face of
adversity.”
Abuu Musabi: (Impressed) “Madeline, one last question. Do you believe you are a good
person?”.
Madeline: (Smiling) “I’ am still working on that. Are you??”
Abuu Musabi: (Laughing, impressed) “I’ am still working on that too., your commitment to
justice and your willingness to face the challenges head-on are remarkable. Welcome to TJO;
together, we will work towards a more just world.”
Madeline: (Nodding) “This is it. Thanks very much”.

Under TJO, Madeline found a new sense of belonging and family that provided her with the
comfort she had long yearned for. The organization offered her not only specialized training but
also the emotional support that gradually healed her from her past traumas. Within this
supportive environment, Madeline achieved her dream of becoming a R.H.A
[REPRODUCTIVE HEALTH ACTIVIST], Having a master degree on it. She was using her
skills and knowledge to make a positive impact on the world. She was highly qualified to be a
member of the TJO sub-section TRIPLE N, LWL [NEW LIGHT, NEW WORLD, NEW
LIFE], R.H.A DEPART [ REPRDUCTIVE HEALTH ACTIVISTS DEPARTMENT], with a
SECN [SECRET EXECUTION CODE NUMBER]
SECN (I.D): TRT/MA/D-723-678-987.
Madeline’s Alfred identity card
She underwent rigorous training similar to that provided to intelligence agencies, equipping her
with a diverse skill set. Madeline conducted numerous military operations both within and
outside the borders of Dane Country, showcasing her exceptional capabilities and dedication to
her role within the organization.

However, Madeline’s journey was a complex one, as she struggled to line between good and
evil. She struggled to define her identity, constantly examining her actions to discern whether her
actions were driven by genuine purpose or clouded by the desire for revenge. This inner conflict
caused her to question her true motivations and left her hanging in a precarious balance the
forces of good and evil. Her attempts to mirror herself and uncover her true self were often
overshadowed by her unwavering commitment to seeking revenge. The decisions she made were
colored by her thirst for retribution, making it difficult for her to fully understand who she had
become. Despite her inner turmoil, her path was one of complexity, as she grappled with
harbinger of vengeance.
[PRESENT TIME]
Madeline, her mind clouded with fear and desperation, realized that Raymond's potential escape
posed an imminent threat to her carefully constructed world. The thought of losing her daughter,
Nance, consumed her, driving her to the brink of madness. In the dimly lit room, shadows
danced around her, mirroring the darkness that had settled within her soul. She knew that if
Raymond were to slip through her fingers, a chasm would open between her and Nance, a divide
too vast to bridge. With trembling hands, Madeline meticulously devised a sinister plan, a web of
deceit and manipulation that would ensnare Raymond, rendering him powerless against her
cunning tactics. Her eyes, once warm and loving, now glinted with a chilling resolve as she
delved deeper into the depths of her own depravity. The silence of the room was shattered by the
sound of her erratic breathing, each inhale laced with the scent of impending doom.

Veronica stood on the deserted Nevertheless beach, the roar of the waves serving as a backdrop
to her desperation. In her trembling hands, she clutched a hard drive containing damning
evidence against the nefarious plans of the BMO. The moonlight cast an eerie glow on her face,
emphasizing the lines of worry etched deeply into her features. Facing the enigmatic NIA Chief
Operator, Nick Calman, Veronica's voice quivered with a mix of fear and determination. "I want
your help," she implored, her eyes pleading for understanding in the darkness. The weight of her
words hung heavily in the air, the urgency palpable.
Nick's reassuring smile softened the harsh reality of the situation, but his eyes glinted with
unwavering resolve. "Yes, of course," he responded, his tone calm yet resolute. "You know you
can trust me, right?" he added, his voice a steady anchor in the tumultuous sea of emotions.
Veronica's gaze never wavered, her eyes mirroring the depths of her anguish. "My son,
Raymond, has been missing for a while now," she revealed, her voice catching in her throat. "I
believe Madeline has him captive. I can't prove it, but I can feel something is not right." Tears
welled up in her eyes, reflecting the pain of a mother's heart torn between hope and despair.
Under the dim moonlight, Nick Calman, the NIA Chief Operator, extended his hand, sealing a
promise with Veronica. "Rest assured, whenever we pick up any intel regarding his whereabouts,
we will inform you ASAP," he vowed, his words cutting through the night like a beacon of hope.
They parted ways, Nick walking toward his car, the weight of their conversation heavy on his
shoulders. Meanwhile, Veronica took a few hesitant steps before meeting Colins, her confidant
and ally, waiting patiently for her. As they locked eyes, Colins could sense the turmoil within
her.

With a sense of urgency, Veronica joined Colins in the car. The engine roared to life, and they
swiftly vanished into the darkness, leaving behind the desolate beach and the secrets buried
within its sands. Together, they retreated to the sanctuary of their home, where they would
continue their fight against the shadows, their determination unwavering despite the challenges
that lay ahead.
In the confines of his car, Nick Calman's fingers danced across his phone screen, swiftly finding
the number he sought. With practiced ease, he initiated the call, his voice low and guarded as he
spoke to the woman on the other end. "She doesn't know about her son," he stated, his tone laden
with a sense of urgency and secrecy.
The woman on the line, Madeline, responded, her voice carrying a weight of authority. "Okay, I
understand. You have to make sure that Veronica remains in the dark, and her son doesn't get a
chance to meet Nance."
"Understood, boss," Nick Calman affirmed, his loyalty evident in his response.
As the saying goes, "Believe nothing of what you hear and only half of what you see." In the
intricate web of deceit and manipulation, Nick Calman and Madeline were secret collaborators,
their alliance born out of cunning and hidden agendas. Their partnership had begun weeks ago, a
result of Madeline's calculated seduction. Initially, Nick Calman had underestimated Madeline,
seeing her as just another woman he had encountered in his line of work. Little did he know, she
was the puppet master, pulling the strings behind the scenes, orchestrating a dangerous game that
would forever change the lives of those entangled in her web of deception.

The atmosphere inside the car grew tense, suffocated by the weight of unspoken emotions.
Veronica's voice trembled with a mix of sorrow and frustration as she confessed, "I spend my
days lost in the arms of another man, forgetting the son who might be out there, waiting for me
to rescue him. How did I become this person, neglecting my own flesh and blood?"
Colins, feeling the sting of Veronica's words, abruptly stopped the car and pulled over to the side
of the road. His eyes bore into hers as he retorted with a mixture of anger and hurt, "I am not just
some random guy, Veronica. I am tired of your erratic behavior. Meeting strangers on late nights
at the beach, crying for your son hypocritically while you continue this charade with other
men—it has to stop."
His frustration reached a breaking point, and in a moment of raw emotion, Colins slapped
Veronica. Her hand instinctively flew to her cheek, her eyes ablaze with anger. "Did you just
slap me?" she seethed, her voice sharp with indignation. "You know what? I don't fight with
losers," she spat out, her regret turning into bitterness. "I should have realized what a mistake it
was to carry your child. I should have aborted it the minute I found out." The words hung heavy
in the air, a painful testament to the shattered relationship between them.
As Colins stared at Veronica, his confusion painted clearly in his eyes, he uttered, "What child?"
But Veronica, overwhelmed by her own emotions, didn't respond. Instead, she reached for her
phone and a coat from the back seat, her hands trembling. In that moment, she made a decision –
to leave the car and continue on foot.
Walking away from the car, tears streamed down her cheeks, each drop a testament to the regret
weighing heavily on her heart. Memories flooded her mind – her father's wise words, McKey’s
disappointment, and her mother Lauren's unshed tears. If only she had pursued her education,
maybe life would have taken a different turn. Regret clawed at her soul as she thought about the

man she had hoped to build a future with, now seeming more hopeless than she had ever
imagined. The weight of her choices bore down on her, especially the decision to reveal that he
was Raymond's father. She wished she hadn't, knowing now that it was a mistake.
Continuing her journey on foot, Veronica cried, her tears mixing with the rain as she walked
along the desolate road. The man she once loved was now a distant memory, overshadowed by
the remorse that consumed her. She thought about her involvement with BMO, the criminal
organization that had stained her hands with Philemon's blood. If only she had stayed away,
maybe his death wouldn't haunt her conscience. Gazing up at the sky, she wept openly, her
sorrow a silent plea for forgiveness. Even the mosquitoes biting at her skin couldn't distract her
from the storm within. In the depths of her regret, she couldn't help but resent Madeline, the
woman she had once helped but who had ultimately betrayed her. The road ahead seemed
endless, mirroring the path of remorse that stretched out before her.
Amidst the relentless downpour, Veronica sought refuge in the sanctuary of an open church. The
raindrops pelted against her, mirroring the turmoil within her heart. Inside the quiet church, she
found solace in the familiar scent of incense and the soft glow of candlelight. She made her way
to the back seat, her steps heavy with the burden of regret and sorrow. Sitting in the hushed
stillness, Veronica closed her eyes, clasping her hands together in a gesture of desperate
supplication. Her voice, barely audible, quivered as she began her prayer:

"Oh, Lord, I come before you, drenched not just by the rain outside, but by the storms raging
within me. I confess my sins, my mistakes that have led me astray. I've walked paths I shouldn't
have, and now I'm lost in the darkness of my own choices. I wish, Lord, that things were
different. I wish I had made different decisions, chosen better paths."
Tears mingled with the rain on her cheeks as she continued, her voice carrying the weight of her
remorse:
"I seek refuge in Your ways, for my ways have failed me. I've faltered, and I've strayed far from
the path of righteousness. Forgive me, Lord, for I have sinned. Show me a sign, a beacon of light
to guide me back to the right way. Strengthen my spirit, cleanse my soul, and help me find
redemption in Your divine mercy."
Veronica remained in the church, her gaze fixed on the Tabernacle, the symbol of her faith. She
recalled the times she had taken Eucharist every Sunday, the ritual that once brought her comfort
and solace. Yet, even within these sacred walls, she had fed the darkness within her, allowing her
vices to overshadow the goodness she once possessed.
In the quiet sanctuary, she prayed fervently for a sign, a glimmer of hope that would lead her out
of the abyss she found herself in. The sound of rain tapping gently on the church windows
mingled with her heartfelt plea, creating a haunting melody of repentance and longing for
redemption.
I am Brother Joseph "a kind, elderly voice completed Sister Cleopatra's sentence, "We're here to
serve the church."
Veronica, still taken aback by their unexpected presence, managed a weak smile. "Thank you for
letting me stay. I was caught in the rain, and I needed a moment of peace."

Sister Cleopatra nodded understandingly. "The Lord's house is always open to those seeking
solace. Is there anything troubling you, my child?"
Veronica hesitated for a moment before pouring out her heart. "I've made mistakes, Sister.
Choices that have hurt others and myself. I came here hoping for a sign, a way to make things
right again."
Brother Samuel placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, his eyes filled with compassion. "God
hears the prayers of the repentant. Sometimes, we find our answers in the most unexpected
places."
With a deep breath, Veronica wiped away her tears. "I pray for guidance, for a way to redeem
myself and those I've wronged."
Sister Cleopatra smiled warmly. "Faith and repentance can lead to transformation, my child.
Keep your heart open, and God will show you the way."
Amidst the hallowed sanctuary, a child emerged from the shadows, her voice a mere whisper
against the echoing silence. "I'm feeling cold," she said, her vulnerability slicing through the air.
Veronica's eyes widened, her concern etched on her face as she inquired about the child's well-
being. "What happened to her?" she asked, her voice gentle yet filled with genuine worry.
Sister Cleopatra, her eyes clouded with sorrow, began the haunting tale. "It has passed three
months and a few days since the time I found this girl," she said, her voice carrying the weight of
an inexplicable tragedy. "She was in a hospital attire, in her last moments of consciousness. She
seemed to be struck by a truck while she was running, seemingly from a hospital. Before she lost
consciousness, she refused to be taken to the government hospital. Before she lost consciousness,
she refused to be taken to the government hospital. So, I took her and drove her to our hospital,

while pointing her fingers in the opposite direction of the church. We looked at her, and God's
great. Glory be to Him. We saved her life, but unfortunately, after a few weeks on bed, she
seemed to remember nothing. Not even her own name. Frequently, she used to speak, 'Raymond!
Raymond!' And when we asked who he was, if he was her father, she seemed to remember
nothing."
The words hung heavily in the air, the church's silence amplifying the weight of their shared
mysteries. Veronica's heart ached with empathy and despair as she absorbed the tragic narrative.
The child's plea for warmth resonated profoundly, emphasizing the fragility of innocence amidst
the enigma that surrounded them. In that sacred space, a profound silence settled, leaving them
enveloped in a heavy, poignant stillness. The air seemed charged with unspoken prayers, and
Veronica's eyes, reflecting a mix of empathy and desperation, searched for answers in the depths
of Sister Cleopatra's gaze, hoping to unveil the truth behind these inexplicable twists of fate.
In the dim glow of the church's flickering candles, Veronica's eyes met Nance's, recognition
flickering in the depths of her teary gaze. A sense of connection, a shared history, hung heavy in
the air. Despite her attempts to hold back her emotions, tears fell freely from Veronica's eyes,
tracing a path down her cheeks as she grappled with the overwhelming truth before her. As
Brother Joseph's curious gaze fell upon her, his eyes searching for answers, Veronica's voice
quivered with the weight of her revelation. Each word emerged amidst sniffles and cries, the pain
of her confession echoing through the sacred silence of the church. "Raymond is my son," she
confessed, her voice raw with emotion, "who was deeply in love with her." The words hung
heavily, pregnant with the agony of loss and the desperate hope that this newfound connection
might unveil the mysteries that shrouded Raymond's disappearance.

Amidst the hallowed tranquility of the monastery, Veronica found herself enveloped in a solitude
that mirrored the storm raging within her. As night descended, casting long shadows across the
ancient walls, she wrestled with the weight of the truths unveiled in the church. The events of the
evening had stirred a tempest of emotions, leaving her heart heavy with grief and her mind a
tumultuous sea of thoughts.
Lying on the austere bed within the monastery, Veronica's mind was consumed by the young
girl, Nance, who had unwittingly become a pawn in the intricate game of fate. Her heart ached
for this innocent soul, burdened by traumas she could scarcely comprehend. The tears that welled
in Veronica's eyes mirrored the anguish of a mother who felt the absence of her son like a
phantom limb—a constant, haunting presence, aching with the weight of unspoken words and
unfinished moments.
Thoughts of Raymond, her beloved son, consumed her. She imagined him out there, in the cold,
seeking help he could not afford, his cries for assistance echoing into the void. The sheer
helplessness of the situation overwhelmed her, rendering her faith in anything, even in the
benevolence of a higher power, into a fragile, shattered relic. As tears rolled over the contours of
her face, mingling with the shadows that danced upon the ceiling, Veronica found herself
suspended between despair and hope. In the quietude of the monastery, her grief found solace,
and yet, it was a solace laced with the bitter taste of unanswered questions and the haunting
uncertainty of what lay ahead. The night, once serene, had become a canvas upon which her
fears and sorrows painted a haunting masterpiece, leaving her adrift in a sea of overwhelming
emotions.

The atmosphere in the dining room was a blend of tranquility and anticipation, as Nance gently
interrupted Veronica's tears with a tender announcement, "Dinner is ready." Her voice, though
soft, carried a soothing reassurance, guiding Veronica toward the communal space where a
gathering of Sisters awaited. As they entered the dining room, Veronica was met with a warm
chorus of greetings. The room was filled with the comforting aroma of freshly prepared food,
and the sisters, clad in their humble habits, exuded an air of serene devotion. It was a custom
within the monastery to share meals together, a practice that bound them not just in sustenance
but in a shared sense of community and faith. After the dinner, Brother Joseph would retreat to
his own abode, leaving the sisters to their prayers and companionship. Seated around the table,
they bowed their heads in unison, offering prayers of gratitude before partaking in the meal that
lay before them. Sister Cleopatra, a figure of wisdom and discernment, recognized Veronica's
presence and introduced her to the rest of the sisters. There was a quiet acknowledgment of the
divine intervention that had brought Veronica to their doorstep, a sentiment shared through
knowing glances and subtle nods.
When Sister Cleopatra revealed the truth about Nance's past, an air of surprise washed over the
room. Eyes widened in understanding, and murmurs of empathy and concern rippled through the
sisters. The tale of Nance's escape from her mother's web of lies struck a chord, resonating
deeply within the hearts of those gathered. In that moment, the bond between them grew
stronger, woven not just by shared prayers and meals but by the threads of compassion and
understanding that connected their souls. They embraced Veronica, not just as a guest, but as a
kindred spirit—a fellow traveler on a path marked by trials, seeking solace and sanctuary within
the embrace of faith.

In the dim light of the isolated building, the feeble coughs of a person, weakened by illness,
echoed through the empty space. The room bore the marks of desolation, a silent witness to the
prolonged struggle endured by the occupant. Hunger gnawed at him relentlessly, a persistent
reminder of his dire circumstances. Summoning the last reserves of his strength, Raymond
attempted to stand, his frail body trembling with the effort. He was driven by the primal instinct
for survival, a desperate need to find sustenance in a world that had turned its back on him. His
pockets were empty, and the prospect of stealing food from a nearby supermarket began to take
shape in his mind. Raymond, once a young man with dreams and aspirations, had been
transformed into a shadow of his former self, forced into a life of desperation and cunning.
With practiced precision, he grabbed a worn cap and pulled it low over his forehead, concealing
his features in the shadows. The world outside was fraught with dangers he had never imagined,
a labyrinth of surveillance where every move was monitored by vigilant eyes. Police officers,
spies, and agents from the National Intelligence Agency (NIA) were hot on his trail, their pursuit
relentless and unforgiving. The very mention of his name sent shivers down the spines of those
who heard it, for he had been labeled a dangerous criminal, accused of heinous acts he never
committed. Madeline, the puppet master behind the web of lies, had woven a narrative that
portrayed Raymond as a kidnapper, a man armed and dangerous. The city buzzed with whispers
of his alleged crimes, painting him as a threat to society. His true story had been distorted
beyond recognition, lost in the cacophony of fear and misinformation.
Alone and vulnerable, Raymond retreated into the shadows, seeking refuge in the anonymity of
the night. His body ached, his wounds still fresh, but his spirit remained unbroken. In the solitude
of his hideout, he grappled with his loneliness, the silence broken only by the echoes of his own

thoughts. Yet, amid the darkness that surrounded him, he clung to a glimmer of hope—a belief
that his actions, no matter how desperate, were paving the way for a seismic change that lay on
the horizon. The days ahead held the promise of redemption, a chance to rewrite his fate and
emerge from the shadows that had consumed him.
In his heart pounds with anxiety. The weight of his fugitive status presses down on him, and he
knew he has to remain hidden from the all-seeing eyes of the CCTV cameras that now broadcast
his face across the entire country. His desperate search for food and supplies has brought him to
this place, but he has to be cautious. Suddenly, the overhead speakers crackle to life, and a
reporter’s voice echoes through the store, reaching every corner, including the TVs on display.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” the reporter announces, “We have a special message. Anyone with
information leading to the whereabouts of this individual [Raymond’s Photo on a display] dead
or alive will be rewarded with a staggering $20 Million. He is a terrorist, a kidnapper and the
most potential international threat.”
His heart sinks as He realizes the magnitude of the reward being offered for his capture. The fear
and worry intensify, knowing that the bounty on his head has reached such an astronomical
amount. He has to be more careful than ever before. In his state of surprise and anxiety, He
fumbles with his cap, accidentally dropping it to the floor. Unbeknownst to him, one of the
supermarket’s CCTV cameras captures a clear image of his face, freezing that moment in time.
His heart races as He hurriedly picks up the cap, fully aware that his fleeting attempt to conceal
his identity has just been exposed.

[At the NATIONAL INVESTIGATION AGENCY Control Room]
[New Identified target! New Identified target! New Identified target...]
Nick Calman: (Picking up a phone and contacts his agents) “Attention to all NIA agents. We’ve
got a critical situation on our hands. Our NIA screen computers just picked up an intel indicating
a grave national security threat. Raymond Philemon, the most wanted individual across all
international agencies, has been spotted on a supermarket CCTV camera at St. Whatson Street.
Agent Raynolds: (Concerned) “Raymond Philemon? He’s been eluding capture for years.
What’s the latest intel on him?”
Nick Calman: (Determined) “As for now, we’ve a limited information, but we know he’s a
master at staying off the greed. This sighting is a big deal, and if we don’t play our cards right,
his presence could turn all our lives upside down. We need to act swiftly and cautiously”.
Agent Anna: (Curious) “What’s our plan, Chief?”.
Nick Calman, the Chief Operator of the NIA, gives instructions and the green light to his team of
agents, as they prepare to head towards St. Whatson Street. The NIA has seamlessly coordinated
with the local police force, ensuring swift communication that results in them converging on the
location where Ray is still present, the supermarket. The entire area is now enveloped in a tight
security net, with police officers and NIA agents strategically positioned at every corner. As
tension escalates, snipers take their positions, casting a watchful eye over every inch of their
vicinity. Ray finds himself trapped with no apparent escape plan in sight, and the pressure
mounts with every passing moment.
Town Sheriff Rashad Jamal takes a microphone, his voice resonating with authority as he
delivers a stark ultimatum. He presents Raymond with two options, emphasizing the gravity of

the situation-surrender peacefully or face the dire consequences of attempting something
reckless. There is no middle ground, and the Sheriff grants him a mere three minutes to
contemplate his decision before the team moves in to apprehend him. As those precious minutes
tick away, a torrent of thoughts floods Raymond’s mind, a whirlwind of emotions within the
narrow confines of his choices. Overwhelmed, he finds himself crying, the weight of his
shattered dreams and the stark reality of life and death bearing down upon him. In an instant, his
once-promising future as a doctor has evaporated, leaving him with the agonizing decision of
whether to surrender and hope for a future or face the dire outcome of resisting arrest.
With a swift, coordinated effort. NIA agents burst into the Supermarket, apprehending Raymond
amid the chaos. The room filled with flashing lights and the sound of scuffling feet as he was
swiftly subdued.
[The atmosphere is tense, with NIA agents surrounding Raymond Philemon, who appears
cornered and desperate. Sheriff Rashad Jamal steps forward, his vice echoing through the
supermarket]
Sheriff Rashad Jamal: (Steely gaze) “Raymond Philemon, you’re under arrest for the murders
of RCO Salum Motoko and his wife, the disappearance of Josephine Salum, kidnapping of
Nance Williams, murders of 57 people at the Leto mines, and leading criminal enterprises,
BMO]
Raymond, cornered and defeated, looks around the Supermarket, the once-familiar aisles now
feeling like a trap.
Agent Raynolds (Shouting): “Drop the weapon. It’s over Raymond!”
Raymond hesitates, his grip on a weapon tightening. Outside, the flashing lights of news vans
illuminated the scene, capturing every tense of moment.

Sheriff Rashad Jamal: (Firmly) “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and
will be used against you in a court of law. You have no right to an attorney. Your fate will be
decided in a court of law”.
Raymond’s face contorts with realization. He’s alone in this fight. The agents move in,
handcuffing him. The Supermarket, once a haven for shoppers, now witnessed the fall of a
criminal empire, justice prevailing in the face of darkness.
[🎵I Was Here🎵 by Beyoncé.]
In a pivotal moment broadcasted live on MTV, the world watched in rapt attention as Raymond
Philemon, a man once feared and hunted, stepped into the spotlight. His weary frame bore the
scars of his tumultuous journey, and his eyes held a flicker of determination amid the exhaustion.
Surrounded by the hushed anticipation of the nation, he mustered the strength to address the
world through a crackling electric megaphone speaker
"I am Raymond Philemon," he began, his voice frail yet resolute, each word heavy with the
weight of his ordeal. Coughing up blood, he continued, his deteriorating health emphasizing the
urgency of his message. The live broadcast transcended borders, captivating audiences not only
within the country but also across international shores. In the face of his own vulnerability,
Raymond seized the opportunity to expose the truth. Sheriff Rashid Jamal, a figure of authority,
had ordered the police to exercise restraint, refraining from breaching the sanctuary of the
supermarket or resorting to violence. The nation held its breath as Raymond's voice cut through
the airwaves, challenging the fabricated narrative that had ensnared him.
"Madeline, through her wealth, has corrupted the very essence of justice. The NIA, tainted by her
influence, labeled me as the prime suspect in the disappearance of Nance Williams, the woman I

love. It's tragically ironic, isn't it?" His words hung heavy in the air, penetrating the hearts of
those who bore witness to his anguished revelation.
Tears welled in the eyes of the viewers, their empathy stirred by the profound injustice unfolding
before them. Even Nance Williams, whose memory had been shrouded in darkness, found solace
in Raymond's words. Through his unwavering declaration, fragments of forgotten memories
flickered to life, illuminating the depths of her past and igniting a glimmer of recognition in her
eyes.
Raymond's words cut through the air like a chilling wind, leaving an eerie silence in their wake.
The room seemed to shrink, suffocating under the weight of his revelations. His eyes, haunted by
the horrors he had witnessed, darted around the space, searching for understanding, for empathy.
"I want the world to know the truth," he declared, his voice gaining strength. "I want justice for
all the innocent lives lost, for the manipulation and deceit that has plagued our society. The
BMO, the Black Cats, and those corrupt officials who dance with them in the darkness must be
exposed. My love for Nance, my fight for her safety, led me to this moment. I refuse to be
silenced any longer."
"The depths of their cruelty know no bounds," he continued, his voice echoing with a mixture of
anguish and determination. "In that hellish black site, I saw the faces of innocence boy twisted in
pain. I heard his cries for mercy, for release from the torment inflicted upon him. I felt his fear
seeping into my bones, becoming a part of me."
His trembling hands clenched into fists, as if trying to grasp the ghosts of his past. "Madeline
Alfred, a name that should strike fear into the hearts of all who hear it. Behind her polished

façade lies a monster, orchestrating the suffering of countless souls. She revels in the agony of
others, using her influence to crush anyone who dares oppose her."
The room seemed to darken, shadows creeping along the walls, mirroring the darkness that had
consumed Raymond's life. "But I refuse to be just another victim," he declared, his voice gaining
a steely resolve. "I have survived their horrors, and now I will expose them. The truth will be a
beacon of light, piercing through the darkness they have created."
A shiver ran down the spines of those listening, the air heavy with the intensity of Raymond's
words. The room felt charged with an otherworldly energy, as if the spirits of the fallen were
present, urging him on. In that moment, Raymond stood as a symbol of defiance, a force of
nature determined to bring down the monsters that lurked in the shadows.
Madeline's hands trembled as she clutched her phone, her lifeline to the world of darkness she
inhabited. The voice of United States of Dane Country General, John Landa, the ominous leader
of the Black Cats organization, cut through the air like a sharp blade. His inquiries were laced
with a menacing tone, underscoring the gravity of the situation.
"Does the boy have anything to prove on court?" he demanded, his words hanging in the air like
a death sentence.
"As far as I understand, no, he has no evidence," Madeline replied, her voice strained with the
weight of her failures.
"Blow the black site at the Leto mines, clear everything that you have that links with us," he
ordered, his voice a thunderous growl. "NIA will be at your doorstep any minute." The threat
hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. "And since you failed to kill Veronica and prevent this

tragedy from happening, I'm afraid I have to open a contract for Nance's head. I think that will
remind you who the Black Cats are and what you had to do."
Madeline's heart sank, her eyes welling up with tears. The reality of her situation crashed over
her like a tidal wave, drowning her in despair. "So, this is it," she murmured, her voice cracking
under the weight of her impending doom.
"Yeah, this is it," came the chilling response from the other end, and with that, he hung up,
leaving Madeline in the depths of her despair, the silence that followed echoing with the finality
of her fate.
The message on Madeline's phone flashed ominously, revealing a picture of Nance, innocent yet
marked for death. The words beneath the image were a death sentence in plain sight: "$50M for
her head."
In the shadows of Leto and Kito Regions, mercenaries from all walks of life received the same
chilling notification. Each beep was a call to arms, a signal for a manhunt that would echo
through the night. The promise of riches drove them, their faces shrouded in darkness as they
prepared for the hunt of a lifetime. Nance's life hung in the balance, her fate now in the hands of
these ruthless hunters. Madeline, once a puppet master, was now powerless to stop the wheels
she had set in motion. The world had become a hunting ground, and Nance, the prey, was thrust
into a deadly game she had not asked to play. The countdown to her demise had begun, and the
mercenaries, driven by greed and bloodlust, would stop at nothing to claim the prize. The night
was alive with the whispers of impending doom, and Nance's every step was haunted by the
echoing footsteps of her pursuers.

[CHAPTER 9] - THE LOST CITY
In the hushed confines of the monastery, a sense of foreboding hung heavily in the air. Veronica,
her voice filled with urgency, approached Nance Williams, her eyes reflecting the gravity of the
situation. "You are in danger," she stated, her tone edged with concern.
Nance, her expression a mix of confusion and disbelief, questioned, "Why?"
"You are the one she's in danger with. You killed your own husband and abandoned your own
son to rot in the ruthless world," one of the sisters exploded, her voice sharp with accusation.
Mistrust and hunger for truth colored her eyes, casting a shadow over the once serene
atmosphere of the monastery. The revelation had shattered the fragile peace, leaving a palpable
sense of unease among the inhabitants of the sacred sanctuary. Veronica stood resolute before
the sisters, Nance, and Brother Joseph, her eyes carrying the weight of her confession.
"It's true, I have made countless mistakes in my life," she began, her voice steady but burdened.
"I have betrayed a lot of people, including my parents. I refused to go to school for the sake of
Madeline." She paused, her gaze shifting to Nance, who hung on her every word.
"What happened to my mother?" Nance interrupted, her voice laced with urgency, a mix of fear
and anticipation etched across her face.
Veronica's revelation hung heavily in the air, a truth so weighty it seemed to press down on
everyone in the room. Her voice, filled with remorse and regret, resonated with the pain of past
decisions.
"She never told you," Veronica's voice quivered slightly, her eyes reflecting the depth of her
guilt. "Your mother was assaulted by seven men one evening, a traumatic incident that left her
pregnant. Devastated and seeking vengeance, she abandoned her education. I, as her closest

friend, made the choice to quit school as well. I fabricated reasons to my parents, claiming that
education held no value for me anymore. My father, McKey, found me a job at the Sapuka
family, where Philemon fell in love with me. We eventually got married." She continued, "My
father, McKey, took matters into his own hands and secured a job for me within the Sapuka
family. It was there that I captured the heart of Philemon, and we eventually married," Veronica
continued, her voice carrying the weight of her past choices. "As our marriage progressed,
Philemon began to trust me implicitly, drawing me deeper into the intricate web of his family's
illegal dealings with the BMO. I proved to be adept at navigating the clandestine world we
inhabited. During my time working with the BMO, I had the opportunity to interact with a
diverse array of individuals. Among them was Abuu Musabi, a significant figure in the criminal
landscape, holding the influential position of TJO country coordinator."
Veronica, her eyes brimming with tears, pressed on, her voice laden with the weight of the past.
"I confided in Aboo Musabi about Madeline Alfred, unknowingly setting the stage for your
mother's involvement with the Black Cats," she explained, her voice quivering with emotion.
Nance listened, her curiosity piqued, prompting her to ask, "So, you're the reason my mother got
involved in all of this? And who is Williams?"
Veronica let out a shaky breath, attempting to compose herself as she continued her narrative.
"Well," she began, her voice still trembling, "Your mother never revealed to her parents how she
got pregnant. Only she and I knew about the incident. When her parents kicked her out, believing
she was entangled in an adulterous affair, Madeline sought refuge with an elderly man named
Williams. She stayed there, while I discreetly provided her with essentials and money. We were
true friends back then, bonded by our shared secrets and the burdens we carried."

Tears streamed down Veronica's face as she confessed, "No, we are not still friends." Nance,
sensing the depth of her pain, gently probed, "What happened between you two?"
Veronica, her voice quivering with regret, continued her tale. "I don't know," she sobbed.
"Madeline underwent extensive training with the Black Cats, just as I did with the BMO. I
delved deep into the world of the BMO, driven by greed for wealth. We were involved in money
laundering, arms dealing, drug trafficking, and mineral exploitation, often colluding with corrupt
government officials."
She paused, her voice breaking as she continued, "But everything changed when I witnessed the
true nature of the BMO's operations. They were responsible for countless deaths, supporting
terrorist groups in other countries, leading them into battles while exploiting their resources. I
grew weary of the organization and its heinous activities." The weight of her past sins hung
heavily upon her, etched in the lines of sorrow on her face.
With a heavy heart, Veronica revealed the dark truths of her past. "I witnessed the BMO's
involvement in heinous activities like human trafficking, using people as pawns to transport
drugs across borders and exploiting Dane country's economy. The situation turned dire when
conflicts of interest arose. The TJO, notorious executioners, were at my disposal for the right
price. I paid them $100M to execute Philemon. I was exhausted from the chains of the BMO's
slavery. When the BMO discovered my betrayal, they put a bounty of $150M on my head,
contracting the Black Cats for my execution. I had nowhere to turn, so I struck a deal with the
NIA. I provided them with intel on the BMO in exchange for my safety."
She continued, her voice heavy with the weight of her actions. "Things were relatively stable
until Madeline was assigned the contract to kill me. However, she remembered the times we

stood by each other in adversity. Instead of following through, she informed me that someone
higher up in the chain had issued my death warrant. Faced with imminent danger, I sought refuge
with Colins, my old lover, all while feeding crucial information to the NIA." The shadows of
betrayal and danger loomed large in her story, casting a haunting pall over her past.
Veronica's voice trembled as she continued her tale of despair and desperation. "Madeline's
failure to locate me put immense pressure on her. Her superiors, knowing the ruthless rules of the
Black Cats, threatened to execute her daughter, Nance," she said, her gaze falling upon the young
woman. "It was a cruel reminder of the unforgiving nature of their execution codes. In a
desperate attempt, she kidnapped my son, Raymond, believing he held information about my
whereabouts. But he was innocent; he had no answers. I reached out to his trainer, Samwel
Julian, but our search yielded no results. Raymond was lost for months, and no one heard a
whisper of his whereabouts."
Pausing, Veronica's eyes welled up with tears. "I had suspected Madeline's involvement, but I
couldn't prove it until today, when I saw him alive on television. This is the lost city, drown in
corruption and crime, and I fear I cannot protect it from the darkness that threatens to consume
us all." Her words hung heavy in the air, painting a picture of a city on the brink of chaos,
teetering on the edge of an abyss.
Nance's shock was palpable as the weight of Veronica's words settled in her mind. Her eyes were
clouded with confusion and pain, trying to process the unraveling truth. "I... I don't understand,"
she stammered, tears welling up in her eyes. "Sister Cleopatra found out I was studying medicine
at DREAM MORE UNIVERSITY. I was supposed to be smart, observant. How could I have

missed all this? How could I not have known about Raymond's involvement in something so
dangerous? Does that mean he was a bad person too?"
Veronica placed a gentle hand on Nance's shoulder, her voice soft but steady. "Nance, everyone
has their flaws, their secrets. It doesn't automatically make us bad people. Sometimes,
circumstances force us into situations beyond our control." She offered a reassuring smile amidst
her own tears. "I promise, I'll take you to meet someone next week. Someone I knew once.
Maybe that meeting will shed more light on this darkness that surrounds us." Her words were a
glimmer of hope in the midst of the overwhelming truth that had been revealed.
[3 HOURS BACK]
Elizabeth Deathtrap, the notorious BMO sniper assassin, was in the midst of a friendly basketball
game at her favorite spot when her phone abruptly shattered the momentary peace. The call
seemed to carry an urgency that made her abandon the game instantly. Swiftly, she left the court,
her tall figure moving gracefully, yet purposefully, and made her way to her car. Inside her
secure room, she meticulously prepared her weapon of choice, a sniper rifle renowned as the
"Shadow Serpent." This highest version sniper rifle was deadly accurate, silent as a whisper, and
deadly from incredible distances. She carefully placed it in her bag, her hands moving with the
precision of a seasoned professional. With her gear in tow, she swiftly returned to her car, the
engine roaring to life as she sped away.
Meanwhile, in Nick Calman's office, a sinister conversation was unfolding. His voice, cold and
calculated, murmured into the phone, "Yes, Madeline. He will be executed the moment he
arrives here. Nothing will reach the court." His commitment to Madeline's orders was evident,
and a sense of impending danger hung heavily in the air. Unbeknownst to Raymond, he was

being transported in a convoy of seven heavily armored military cars. What he didn't realize was
that BMO had dispatched Elizabeth Deathtrap, their deadliest asset, to intercept the convoy. Her
mission: to eliminate him before he could utter another word. And if, by some miracle, she failed
in her task, Nick Calman, under Madeline's command, was equally determined to ensure
Raymond's demise. The stage was set for a deadly confrontation, with Raymond caught in the
crosshairs of ruthless forces.
Perched atop one of the city's tallest buildings, Elizabeth Deathtrap became one with the
shadows, her eyes scanning the horizon through the lenses of her binoculars. Below, a convoy of
seven heavily armored military cars rumbled through the city streets, an unwitting participant in
a deadly game.
With calculated precision, Elizabeth adjusted her binoculars until she spotted her target,
Raymond, nestled within the confines of one of the cars. Every movement was deliberate, every
breath measured, as she prepared to execute her mission.
"Target visible, asking permission to engage," she uttered into her phone, her voice cold and
unwavering.
A heavy voice crackled from the other end, granting the authorization she sought. The green
light illuminated her path, giving her the signal to proceed. With unparalleled focus, Elizabeth
settled her rifle into position, the cold metal meeting her palm like an extension of her own body.
Her trained eye followed the crosshairs, aligning them precisely with the mark on her scope.
Her finger, steady and unyielding, approached the trigger. In that moment, time seemed to stand
still, the weight of her mission resting upon her shoulders. The world outside of her scope
blurred into insignificance, leaving only her and her target.

In the deafening silence of that height, Elizabeth Deathtrap took a breath, her pulse the only
sound in her ears. With unwavering resolve, she prepared to squeeze the trigger, unleashing the
deadly force that lay within her grasp. The city below continued its oblivious dance, unaware of
the impending violence that hung in the balance, poised to shatter the tranquility of the moment.
In the eerie silence of the rooftop, Elizabeth Deathtrap felt the cold touch of dread creep up her
spine as an unexpected voice shattered the stillness.
"Hello, Elizabeth."
She whirled around to find Uncle Sam standing there, his presence casting a shadow over her
deadly mission.
"I've always wondered who is truly the villain between Raymond and the BMO. Turns out,
you're the darkest presence I've ever known," he said, his voice laced with disappointment.
Elizabeth's eyes narrowed with a mix of frustration and fear. "How did you find me here?" she
exploded, her composure slipping.
"Drop the gun," Uncle Sam ordered calmly.
With a reluctant sigh, Elizabeth released her grip, letting the weapon clatter to the ground. There
was a bitter realization in her eyes – she had been outmaneuvered.
Uncle Sam approached her, a pair of handcuffs in his hand. Elizabeth knew there was no escape
now; she had met her match.
Meanwhile, down on the streets, the convoy came to an abrupt halt, blocked by a massive truck.
Inside one of the cars, Raymond's lips curled into a satisfied smile. He had outsmarted the very
forces that sought his demise, and in that moment, the fear etched on the faces of the convoy
crew was a testament to his resilience. The game had changed, and the balance of power had
shifted in his favor.

Gunshots echoed through the air, and after a few intense moments, only Raymond and seven
men remained standing. A triumphant smile played on Raymond's lips as he turned to one of the
remaining crew members, a challenge in his eyes.
"Will you step outside and see what happened, or will you just stay here?" Raymond taunted, his
laughter filling the air as he realized he had been unexpectedly rescued.
Just as he reached for a phone to report the incident, a bullet pierced through his back, and the
same fate befell the rest of the crew. Doors swung open, and to Raymond's surprise, he found
himself face-to-face with Uncle Sam. Amazement painted his features as he spoke in disbelief,
"Don't tell me you're the one who orchestrated all of this. I owe you my life."
Uncle Sam responded, a glint of pride in his eyes, "Not just myself," he said, gesturing to the
figures emerging from the shadows, each one revealing their face to Raymond.
Raymond's gaze widened as he met the familiar gaze of Suzan, the woman he was torturing him
for months with her co-worker, a twin brother, Abood Voldemort.
Raymond's eyes widened in a mixture of surprise and anger, the intensity of his emotions clearly
visible. He roared, "These people tortured me for months!"
Uncle Sam, the voice of reason amidst the chaos, calmly replied, "Son, they were working under
pressure. It was all Madeline's doing. Besides, they helped you escape."
Raymond, still incredulous, retorted, "No, not really. These people put a GPS tracker on the car
they gave me."
"From my teachings, was that hard to find out?" Uncle Sam questioned, a hint of amusement in
his voice.

"Easy peasy," Raymond responded, a smirk playing on his lips. Turning to Suzan, he added,
"Thanks to you, Madam, I was just angry."
"Worry not, Boss Raymond. I always have your back," Suzan replied with unwavering loyalty,
her eyes reflecting her dedication. Meanwhile, Abood observed the deep connection between his
sister and Raymond, unable to comprehend the unspoken emotions.
"Let's get out of here. Soon, NIA troops will flood this place," Uncle Sam wisely suggested,
urging them to leave the scene. With Elizabeth Deathtrap now their captive, they swiftly made
their exit, aware that they had narrowly escaped the clutches of danger once again.
[I HOUR LATER]
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is MTV News reporting live from the scene of a devastating incident
that unfolded just hours ago. In a shocking turn of events, a heavily armed group ambushed a
military convoy transporting the infamous Raymond Philemon, a key figure in recent national
events, towards Gravelin Prison.
This brazen attack occurred on a remote highway, where a convoy of 42 soldiers was ruthlessly
targeted. Eyewitnesses report a well-coordinated assault, leaving a grim aftermath of destruction
in its wake. The assailants, whose identities remain unknown, displayed a high level of tactical
expertise, overpowering the heavily armed military personnel with surprising efficiency. Details
are still emerging, but it appears that the attackers managed to neutralize the entire convoy,
leaving no survivors. Raymond Philemon, the accused, was successfully rescued amidst this
chaos, adding a layer of mystery to an already baffling situation. Authorities are scrambling to
investigate this shocking incident, grappling with the complexity of the attack and the identities

of those responsible. The motive behind this audacious rescue remains unclear, raising questions
about the depths of the conspiracy surrounding Raymond Philemon. We will continue to bring
you live updates as this story unfolds, shedding light on the events that have plunged our nation
into a state of shock and disbelief. Stay tuned to MTV News for the latest developments on this
shocking massacre and the enigmatic figures behind it."
A high-ranking government official, her demeanor exuding authority, was seen visiting Everlin's
house. Her presence hinted at a significant position in the government, evident from her
confident demeanor and the respect accorded to her by those around her.
Inside Everlin's home, the official inquired about the tragic death of Kennedy, her tone a mix of
sympathy and curiosity. Everlin, still grieving the loss of her husband, recounted the harrowing
events leading to Kennedy's demise, her voice laced with pain and sorrow. In a moment of
assurance, the official promised Everlin that she need not worry about anything. With a sense of
purpose in her eyes, she pledged to take care of Everlin and fulfill any needs she might have. She
cryptically mentioned that when the time was right, she would offer Everlin a specific job, a task
that seemed laden with significance and secrecy. Everlin, although perplexed, felt a glimmer of
hope amid her grief, wondering what this enigmatic promise might entail.
"Who are you?" Everlin asked, her voice laced with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. The
woman, an enigmatic smile playing on her lips, remained silent, her eyes fixed on Everlin.
In the wake of the unexpected visit, Everlin found herself both startled and intrigued. The
presence of this mysterious high-ranking official, the cryptic promises, and the unspoken
implications left her with a sense of foreboding. Questions swirled in her mind, and as she stared
into the stranger's eyes, she couldn't help but wonder about the hidden truths behind her
husband's involvement and the enigmatic future that lay ahead.

The woman, her presence exuding an aura of authority,
entered the Rehub center with purposeful steps. Her eyes
scanned the surroundings until they landed on James Jr.,
who was in the midst of a group therapy session. She
approached him, her gaze unwavering, and James Jr. felt a
shiver crawl up his spine as if he were being assessed for
something much more significant.
She spoke to him in a tone that brooked no argument,
handing him a phone identical to the one she had given
his mother. Confusion etched across his face, James Jr.
stammered, "I don't understand."
The woman, her smile enigmatic, replied, "You don't need
to understand, James. You only need to follow

instructions. Keep this phone on you at all times and do
exactly as you're told."
With those cryptic words, she left him standing in the
garden, a whirlwind of frustration and uncertainty
clouding his mind. He clutched the phone tightly,
realizing that he had been drawn into a web of secrecy
and manipulation, with no clear way out.
The mysterious woman continued her enigmatic visits,
weaving her way through various individuals' lives like a
shadowy puppeteer pulling unseen strings. One by one,
she approached people from different walks of life,
leaving behind a trail of confusion and whispered
instructions. Each encounter seemed calculated, as if she

were carefully selecting pieces for a puzzle yet to be
unveiled.
People who crossed her path found themselves with
unexplained phones, cryptic directives, and a profound
sense of foreboding. It was as though they were caught in
the orbit of a grand design, the scope of which remained
hidden from their understanding.

[CHAPTER 10]- CONSEQUENCES
Seven months back, James jr. was sitting alone in his dimly lit apartment, the weight of his past
mistakes heavy on his shoulders. He couldn’t stop thinking about Nance Williams, the girl he
had carelessly hurt. He knew he needed to make amends, but the fear of rejection gnawed at him.
He had spent countless sleepless nights, haunted by the memories of his past actions. He
regretted how he had treated Nance Williams, a girl who had loved him with all her heart. He
realized that his playboy lifestyle had been a shallow façade, and it had cost him something truly
precious. One evening, as he looked at old photos of him and Nance Williams together, the
regret washed over him like a tidal wave. He couldn’t ignore the guilty any longer.
(Pacing nervously): “I know I need to apologize, but how do I even begin to make things right?
What can I say to convey how truly sorry I am?”, asked himself. He spent hours rehearsing in
front if the mirror, trying to find the right words. But every attempt felt inadequate. He realized
that he was stepping into uncharted territory, not knowing if Nance would accept his apology or
if she would reject him.
(Frustrated): “This is harder than I thought. I just want to make things right, but I have no clue
where to start” said to himself
(Whispering to himself): “What have I become? I had something beautiful with Nance, and I
threw it away for meaningless flings. She deserved so much better than that”
The regret gnawed at him day by day, and he knew he had to make amends, not just for Nance
Williams’s sake but to find some closure for himself. This deep sense of remorse became the
driving force behind his decision to reach out to her and try to mend the broken pieces of their
past.

As the Day he planned to face Nance Williams reached, James Jr. couldn’t shake his
determination to apologize to Nance. He had tried to reach out to her, but then a realization
struck him like a lightning bolt- she was now with Raymond Philemon.
(Typing a message but hesitating): “Hey, Nance, can we talk? There’s something important I
want to say…”. But just before hitting the send button, he remembered that Nance was now in a
relationship with Raymond Philemon, and he paused, his finger hovering over the screen.
(Frustrated, muttering to himself): “What am I doing? She’s moved on with Someone else. I
can’t just barge into her life like this and disrupt her happiness” said to himself
He deleted the message and leaned back in his chair, conflicted by his desire to apologize and the
reality that Nance had found someone else better than him. It was a painful reminder of the
consequences of his past actions and he had missed his chance to make amends earlier.
James Jr.’s jealousy and regret continued to eat him away, and on one fateful day, he couldn’t
contain his emotions any longer. He had heard that Nance and Raymond were spending a sunny
day at the NTLB- Nevertheless Beach, and he couldn’t resist going there to see them for himself.
When he arrived at the Beach and saw Nance and Raymond laughing together, it was as if a
wave of anger and jealousy washed over him. He couldn’t stand seeing her so happy with
someone else, knowing that he had been the one to cause her pain.
(Approaching them, his voice trembling with anger): “Nance! Raymond!
(Started): “James jr.? What are you doing here?”, she asked him
(Protectively stepping in front of Nance): “Hey, Buddy, I think you should leave”

But James Jr. couldn’t control his emotions. He lashed out in a fit of jealousy, and a brief scuffle
ensued. However, Raymond was quick to defend Nance, and in the midst of the chaos, he landed
a punch that knocked James Jr. to the ground.
[firmly}: “Stay away from us, man. Nance doesn’t need this”, Raymond defended
As James Jr. picked himself up from the sand, bruised and defeated, he realized his jealousy had
driven him to a low point. His actions had not only hurt him physically but also severed any
remaining chance of reconciling with Nance Williams.
James Jr. stood nervously in front of Nance, who had agreed to meet him at the park. The air was
tense with a mix of emotions- his regret, her anger, and both of their lingering feeling from the
past.
Nance, arms crossed and with a stern expression, cut right to the chase: “James Jr., you wanted
to talk, so talk.”
James Jr., his voice trembling with nervousness, began, “Nance, I... I don’t even know where to
begin. I’m sorry for everything I put you through. I was immature and foolish. I never should
have dumped you like I did.”
Nance, her anger raw and palpable, couldn’t hold back her tears: “Immature? Foolish? That’s an
understatement. You broke my heart, James Jr. I loved you, and you used me for that. Do you
have any idea how much that hurt?”
Tears welled up in James Jr.'s eyes as he cried impatiently, “I’ve spent countless nights crying,
regretting what I’ve done. I’m a dying man. Spare my pain, come to me.”
Her anger now laced with fury, Nance retorted, “I regret what I’ve done to you and to my life.
You were the best thing that ever happened to me, and I was too blind to see it back then. You’re
an incredible person, Nance, and I never should have let you go.”

But Nance’s anger began to give way to deep sadness. “It’s too late for apologies, James Jr. You
had your chance, and you threw it away.”
Desperate to salvage something, James Jr. pleaded, “Raymond Philemon! Is that what you
wanted in life? The child of murderers? He will break your heart more than I did”
Nance's voice turned cold, her resolve firm: “Doesn’t matter. Are you the one I wanted in life?
Don’t ever spit your nonsense words in my face. Are we clear?”
James Jr., feeling a sense of defeat, mumbled, “That’s right.”
James Jr. had been silently battling his addiction to Cocaine for an extended period, using it as a
copying mechanism to numb his emotional pain. He had kept his secret hidden from everyone in
his life, struggling not only with addiction but also with the isolation it brought. His addiction
wasn’t limited to alcohol; he was deeply entangled in the grip of cocaine’s destructive allure. At
the park, he felt an immediate connection with her, a rare sense of trust that made him want to
share his dark secret with her. He longed to confide in Nance, believing she might be the one
person who could help him break free from his addiction and the pain it caused. However, when
James Jr. attempted to open up to Nance, things didn’t unfold as planned. Perhaps he was
overwhelmed by fear or uncertainty, or maybe the moment wasn’t right. The opportunity to
reveal his secret slipped through his fingers, leaving him more frustrated and desperate than ever.
From that day on, James Jr.’s life began to spiral out of control. He couldn’t let go of his regrets,
and his reckless behavior pushed away the few friends he had left.
The video of James Jr. getting into a fight with Raymond Philemon at the NTLB spread like
wildfire throughout the university and even beyond. It was shared on social media platforms and

quickly went viral, attracting the attention of local news outlets. DREAM-MORE DIGITAL
MAGAZINE SOCIEY, DMS made the story viral through their daily posts about the incidence.
The incident tarnished James Jr.’s reputation, and he begun to lose the respect of his peers and
acquaintances. As the video continued to circulate, James Jr.’s life began to unravel further. The
incident became a defining moment, and people started distancing themselves from him.
Alone in the dimly lit bathroom, tears streamed down his face as he voiced his thoughts aloud,
"Being alone at the toilet when shits go down reminds yourself, no one will be at your side when
things get twisted," he said to himself. His words hung heavy in the air, reflecting the weight of
his solitude and the harsh reality he faced.
Friends he had known for years no longer wanted to be associated with him, and he became an
outcast in his own social circles. The consequences of his actions also had a detrimental impact
on his academic pursuits. James Jr. subjects started diminishing as he struggled to focus on his
studies. The weight of his past mistakes and the isolation he felt took a toll on his mental well-
being, making it increasingly difficult for him to concentrated on his coursework. James Jr.
found himself falling subjects he had once excelled in. His grades plummeted, and he was placed
on academic probation. The promising future he had once envisioned for himself now seemed
like a distant dream as he watched his life spiral out of control. It was a harsh reminder of how
his own actions had led him down this self-destructive path.
Mr. Millenium and Madam Rose had built a vast business empire, which demanded much of
their time and attention. Their numerous responsibilities and global business interests often kept
them occupied, leaving them with their only son, James Jr. Their busy schedules had caused

them to overlook the early signs of their son’s struggles. They had assumed that their financial
success would provide him with all the support he needed, but they failed to see the emotional
turmoil brewing beneath the surface. As they jet-settled around the world, attending meetings
and managing their investments, they had inadvertently grown distant from James Jr. All the
moments, James Jr had been crying for help, disguised as reckless behavior and poor decision-
making, went largely unnoticed in the shadow of their business empire. It was when the situation
reached a critical point that they realized the extent of their son’s suffering and the gravity of the
situation.
One fateful night, the worst fears of Mr. Millenium and Madam Rose came true. They received a
call from the local police officers who had found their son in a dire state. James Jr. had been
involved in a bar fight that he himself had initiated, and he had been badly beaten by the
strangers. The police informed them that James Jr.’s fate hung in the balance, and he was in need
of immediate medical attention
Mr. Millennium and Madam Rose rushed to the scene, their hearts heavy with worry and despair.
They found James Jr. lying unconscious in a dimly lit alley beside the bar, battered and bruised.
His face was swollen, and blood stained his clothes. It was a heartbreaking sight for parents who
had once seen their son as the heir to their fortune, now reduced to this pitiable state.
With tear-filled eyes, Madam Rose stared at her son, James Jr., lying unconscious in the hospital
bed. Beside her, her husband, Mr. Millenium, trembled with fear and concern.
"James, our dear boy, what have you done to yourself?" Madam Rose whispered, her voice laden
with anguish.

"We need to get him to a hospital immediately," replied Mr. Millenium, his voice trembling with
urgency.
With the help of the police officers, they managed to call for an ambulance. Swiftly, James Jr.
was rushed to the emergency department at GK Hospital.
Anxiously approaching Mr. Millenium and Madam Rose, Dr. Salim, the attending physician,
introduced himself, "Mr. Millenium, Madam Rose, I am Dr. Salim, and I'll be taking care of
James Jr. We received a statement from the local police officers regarding his condition. He's
been diagnosed with a cocaine overdose."
"Oh, my goodness! How could this have happened? Is he going to be alright?" Mr. Millenium's
voice carried a frantic tone, mirroring the worry etched on his face.
"Worry not, Mr. Millenium. Dr. Salim, please tell us he's going to be okay. We had no idea he
was using drugs," Madam Rose pleaded, her voice tinged with deep concern.
Assuring them, Dr. Salim said, "We're doing everything we can to stabilize him. Right now, he's
unconscious, but we have a team working on getting him the medical attention he needs."
Desperation etched Mr. Millenium's face, "Doctor, we'll do anything, pay any cost to make sure
he gets the best care. Money is not an issue."
Compassionately, Dr. Salim replied, "We understand your concern, but the most important thing
right now is his well-being. We'll keep you updated on his progress, and our priority is to help
him recover."
"Please, Doctor, just save our son. We love him more than anything in the world," Madam Rose
pleaded tearfully.

"We'll do our best, Madam Rose. Your son is in good hands, and we'll keep you informed about
his condition. Right now, please try to stay calm, and we'll keep you updated as we learn more
about his recovery," Dr. Salim said with sympathy, offering a glimmer of hope in the midst of
their despair.
Mr. Millenium and his wife, Madam Rose, sat on a bench in the hospital waiting room, their
expressions weighed down by regret and sorrow, as if the weight of the world rested upon their
shoulders.
Mr. Millenium sighed heavily, the burden of realization heavy on his heart, "I can't believe we
didn't see this coming, my husband. Our only child, struggling like this, and we were completely
ignorant."
Madam Rose nodded, her eyes filled with guilt, "You're right, Rose. We were so caught up with
our own world, our businesses, and our social circles that we failed to notice the signs. We
should have been more present in his life."
Tears welled up in Madam Rose's eyes as she spoke, her voice breaking with emotion, "He must
have felt so alone, dealing with this on his own. We should have been there for him, supported
him, but we were too blind to see his pain."
Regret etched Mr. Millenium's face, "I remember when he used to confide in us, share his
dreams and fears. But somewhere along the way, we lost touch with him, and now he's paying
the price for our neglect."
Madam Rose's voice quivered as she spoke, "I just hope he can forgive us when he wakes up.
We need to make amends and be the parents he deserves."

Determined, Mr. Millenium placed a hand on his wife's, his eyes reflecting newfound resolve,
"You're right, my wife. We'll do whatever it takes to support him through this and ensure he gets
the help he needs. Our ignorance ends here, and we'll be there for him every step of the way."
Their shared determination hung in the air, a promise to their son and to themselves, a
commitment to mend what had been broken and be the parents James Jr. truly deserved.
Mr. Millenium, deeply shaken by his son James Jr.’s overdose and determined to make amends
for their past neglect, saw the solution in taking him to rehab. He recognized that rehab offers a
structured environment with professional guidance, where James could safely detox and receive
the necessary therapy to address his addiction and the underlaying issues that led to it. By
adapting for rehab, Mr. Millenium hoped to provide his son with the focused care and support he
needed to break free from the destructive cycle of substance abuse, fostering a path to recovery
and healing that, ultimately, could mend their strained relationship and offered James a chance at
a healthier, brighter future.
The evening day ET20 Team under Raymond's leadership murdered RCO. Hon Salum Motoko
and his wife. Their only Child, Josephine embarked on a perilous journey to reach her Uncle
Abdallah’s home safety. His uncle was the retired National soldier. With the money and
guidance, Raymond provided, she managed to evade the clutches of the BMO group and found
her way to her Uncle Abdalah, tears streamed down her face as she embraced him tightly,
grateful for her safe arrival. Uncle Abdallah, deeply concerned for his niece, asked her what had
happened. In response, Josephine moved to the TV and switched it ON to the MTV news
channel. It was broadcasting a somber report, detailing the murder of two married couples;

Regional crime officer, RCO Hon. Salum Motoko and his wife from a head gunshot, with no
whereabouts of their 17-year-old daughter, Josephine Salum Motoko. The police were actively
searching for her.
As Josephine’s uncle began to reach for the phone, intending to call the police and report her safe
turn, she stopped him urgently. Both of them were filled with fear, realizing the danger that
surrounded them. They understood that exposing her presence might not only endanger
Josephine but also put her uncle’s life at risk. In their shared anxiety, they knew that staying
hidden and silent was the only way to remain safe from the relentless pursuit of the BMO group
and the law enforcement authorities.
Uncle Abdallah was a resilient and forgotten ex-military veteran who embarked on a harrowing
mission in the early 1990s to confront the BMO insurgency in the Lex country [Dane country
Neighbor]. As the squad trainer, he held a pivotal role within the team, instilling discipline and
expertise in his fellow soldiers. However, fate took a cruel twist when their very own General
betrayed them.
The treacherous incident that still haunted him to that day unfolded when the BMO forces
conspired with their unscrupulous General to plant a landmine beneath their path. Unbeknownst
to Abdallah, tragedy struck as the car carrying 24 brave soldiers, including himself, roared to
life.
In a twist of fortune, Abdallah had forgotten his binoculars in their tent. In the very moment he
ventured outside to retrieve them, the car carrying his comrades left him behind. It was a matter
of seconds that saved his life, for as he watched in disbelief, the vehicle met a tragic end,

exploding in a devastating blast near their settlement. Uncle Abdallah was the sole survivor of
that treacherous betrayal, left to carry the heavy burden of memories from that fateful day.
The incident had left Uncle Abdallah utterly terrified. He couldn’t shake the haunting memories
of that day when the 24 soldiers, including his comrades, were brutally executed under the guise
of tragic accidents. It was a chilling revelation that their own General, Major, Sergeants, and
others privy to the classified “BMO CLEARANCE MISSION 09, BSM09”, had been silenced.
Fear for his life gnawed at him constantly, realizing that everyone with information about that ill-
fated mission met a grim end. With a heavy heart, he made the painful decision to flee the
country, leaving his past life. Desperate to evade those who sought to eliminate any traces of the
mission, he underwent a complete identity change, adopting new aliases to camouflage himself.
He became the fugitive in his own country. Tragically, his attempts to escape the horrors of his
past were in vain. Upon returning to his home country, he was met with an unspeakable and
heart-wrenching sight. His family, too, had fallen victim to the merciless tactics of the BMO, as a
bomb planted in his car had cruelly torn them away from him, leaving him not only scarred by
the past but also bereft of his loved ones. Uncle Abdallah’s life after that traumatic incident was
marked by a constant struggle to remain hidden from the ever-watchful gaze of the BMO. He
adopted to a life of extreme caution, mastering the art of laying low. He moved frequently, and
keeping a low profile to evade detection. He never allowed himself to form close connections
again, guarding his heart against the potential pain of loss.
Love and prospect of having children became distant memories, buried beneath the weight of his
past. The scars of betrayal ran deep, and Abdalah had resigned himself to a solitary existence,
haunted by the shadows of his history.

Then, Josephine entered his life like an unexpected storm. Her arrival was about to unzip the
tightly sealed vault of his painful memories. Abdallah was going to re-experience the living hell
of that mission and the subsequent tragedy as he grappled with the resurgence of emotions and
the dark secrets he had buried so long. Josephine’s presence was about to unravel the carefully
constructed façade he had maintained for years, forcing him to confront the demons he had tried
so hard to outrun.
Josephine stood before her uncle, her eyes burning with a thirst for revenge against those who
had brutally taken her parents away from her. The intensity of her desire was palpable, her
determination radiating like a fierce flame in her gaze.
With a steely voice, she implored her uncle, "Uncle, I need you to train me. I can't let them get
away with what they did to my parents. I want justice, and I want to make them pay for their
crimes."
Her uncle, a seasoned warrior with wisdom etched into the lines of his face, looked at her with a
mix of concern and understanding. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder and spoke, his voice
carrying the weight of experience, "Vengeance, my dear, is a double-edged sword. It can
consume you, blur the lines between right and wrong.
Remember, revenge often exacts a higher price than we anticipate. Proceed with caution, for the
path of retribution is fraught with peril."
Heeding his uncle's words, Josephine's fiery determination met a tempered resolve. She
understood the gravity of her quest for revenge, realizing that the journey she was about to

embark upon would test not only her strength but also her character. With her uncle's guidance,
she prepared herself for the challenges that lay ahead, determined to seek justice without losing
her own humanity in the process.
Day and night, Josephine's training was grueling, pushing her to the very limits of her endurance.
Her uncle, a stern and relentless mentor, never spared her, subjecting her to exercises that
bordered on the brink of life and death. He constantly reminded her, "You have yet to see the
depths of your enemies' strength. To defeat them, you must be stronger, faster, and more
determined than you ever thought possible."
Through the harshest of hardships, Josephine persevered. Bruised and battered, she refused to
yield to the pain, her eyes always fixed on the ultimate goal: revenge. Every obstacle, every
setback only fueled her determination further. She endured excruciating physical challenges,
mental trials that tested her sanity, and emotional turmoil that threatened to break her spirit.
Her uncle's words echoed in her mind like a mantra, driving her forward: "Your enemies will
show no mercy. You must be unyielding, unrelenting. Your strength lies not just in your
muscles, but in your willpower, your ability to endure when others would falter."
Amidst the trials, Josephine honed her skills, sharpened her instincts, and steeled her resolve. She
learned to harness her anger, transforming it into a focused determination. Each day, she pushed
herself beyond her limits, knowing that her enemies wouldn't show her any mercy when the time
came.
With unwavering focus, she trained, mastering the art of combat, strategy, and stealth. She
became a force to be reckoned with, a relentless storm on a path to vengeance. Despite the pain,

the exhaustion, and the overwhelming challenges, Josephine remained resolute, her eyes burning
with a fierce determination to accomplish her revenge, no matter the cost.
Every day, Uncle Abdalah drove Josephine to the edge of her endurance and then pushed her
further. There was no mercy in his training, no room for weakness. He believed that only through
extreme brutality could she be prepared for the darkness that awaited her. The once kind-hearted
girl was transformed into a relentless, unyielding force, her innate goodness gradually
overshadowed by the ruthless determination to avenge her parents.
Uncle Abdallah’s methods were merciless, his training sessions bordering on sadistic. He pushed
her to physical and mental extremes, forcing her to confront pain, fear, and exhaustion in ways
she could never have imagined. The training ground became a battleground where she fought not
only her physical limitations but also the inner demons that threatened to consume her.
Each day, he drilled her in combat techniques that were as brutal as they were effective. He
taught her to strike without hesitation, to maim and incapacitate with precision. He pushed her to
endure injuries, teaching her to fight through the pain until she could no longer feel it. Every
blow she struck and every defensive move she made was honed through blood, sweat, and tears.
Despite the brutality, Uncle Abdalah's words served as a constant reminder: "In the world we
face, kindness is a luxury we cannot afford. Your enemies won't hesitate, and neither can you.
Your choices will be harsh, but they must be made with unwavering determination. Let your
focus be your shield, and let nothing shake your resolve."
Day after day, the goodness within Josephine was eroded, replaced by a steely resolve and a cold
determination. She learned to suppress her emotions, to detach herself from the humanity that
once defined her. The warmth in her heart was replaced by a chilling determination, her empathy
overshadowed by a thirst for vengeance.

Abdallah’s training was not just physical; it was a transformation of her very being. He molded
her into a weapon, a force of nature that would stop at nothing to achieve her goal. Along the
way, she embraced her darker side, embracing the ruthlessness that was necessary for survival.
Through it all, Uncle Abdalah's guiding principle remained: "Stay focused, remain unshakable.
Your choices may be harsh, but they are the path to victory. Let your enemies underestimate you,
for in your cold determination lies your greatest strength." And so, Josephine forged ahead, her
heart hardened, her spirit unbreakable, her purpose clear – to exact a merciless revenge on those
who had taken everything from her.
In the icy silence of the mountain peaks, where the air was thin and each breath felt like a
victory, Josephine and Uncle Abdalah continued their grueling training regimen. The frosty wind
stung their faces, but their determination burned brighter than ever.
"Human being," Uncle Abdalah said, his voice cutting through the biting cold.
"Merciless, brutal, the same," she replied, her words hanging in the frigid air.
"And if someone stands in your way?" he questioned, his eyes sharp with scrutiny.
"Kill or be killed," she responded without hesitation, her voice unwavering.
"What about giving up?" he probed further, testing her resolve.
"The only exception to my rule," she declared, her breath visible in the freezing air.
"And your worst enemy?" Uncle Abdalah asked, his gaze piercing into her soul.
"Kindness, forgiveness, mistakes," she answered, her words laced with bitterness.
"What makes you proud?" he inquired, seeking to understand the depths of her convictions.
"Seeing all responsible for my family's deaths held accountable," she said, her tone filled with a
vengeful determination.

"And your mission?" he questioned one final time, his voice echoing against the icy cliffs.
"Revenge," she stated, her voice carrying the weight of a thousand sorrows and a burning desire
for justice. In that desolate, frozen wilderness, Josephine's commitment to her mission was as
unyielding as the mountains themselves.
In the heart of her intensive six-month training, Josephine had been meticulously crafted into a
relentless force under the guidance of Uncle Abdalah. Her hesitation had evaporated, replaced by
a cold, calculating determination. Her hands were now as deadly as any weapon, and her eyes
reflected the shadows of her dark purpose.
On a frosty evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the world was cloaked in twilight,
Uncle Abdalah approached her, his presence commanding respect.
"Today's mission?" he inquired; his voice as sharp as a blade.
"Kill Yeko Tichi County mayor, Ramadhan Saleh," she replied, her words devoid of emotion.
"Reason?" he pressed, expecting a justification for her deadly intent.
"BMO money laundering, a bad person," she responded, her tone unwavering.
"What's important?" he questioned further, seeking to test the depth of her commitment.
"Mission accomplishment," she stated firmly, her focus resolute.
"If that's impossible?" he challenged, forcing her to confront the harsh realities of her chosen
path.
"Remain untraceable," she replied, acknowledging the need for discretion even in failure.
"And if you get killed?" Uncle Abdalah asked, his eyes searching hers for any hint of doubt.
"Fate decided," she said, her acceptance of the ultimate consequence echoing in the stillness of
the night. With those words, she embarked on her mission, her steps echoing the path of shadows
she had willingly chosen to tread.

Amidst the bustling activity of the harbor, Mayor Ramadhan Saleh stood at the epicenter of a
clandestine business exchange. He engaged in secretive dealings with foreign partners, fellow
members of the nefarious BMO organization. Cash exchanged hands swiftly, the unspoken
language of illicit transactions.
Exiting the scene of his unlawful gains, Mayor Saleh was enveloped by an entourage of
bodyguards, their watchful eyes scanning the surroundings for potential threats. Little did they
know that danger had already infiltrated their midst.
As they embarked on the journey toward his residence, Mayor Saleh’s demeanor seemed
nonchalant. Unbeknownst to him, Josephina, disguised as a waiter, had covertly tainted his drink
with an untraceable poison. The lethal substance, carefully chosen for its ability to leave no
discernible trace, had begun its sinister work. By the time they reached his house, Mayor Saleh
was already succumbing to the effects of the poison. His once calculated steps faltered, and the
color drained from his face. The bodyguards, initially vigilant, now realized something was
amiss. Panic gripped them as they attempted to save their employer, but it was too late. The
mayor's life ebbed away, the victim of a meticulously planned and executed assassination,
leaving behind a city shrouded in secrecy and shadows.
As they sat down for dinner, Josephine couldn't help but voice the question that had been
lingering in her mind. "Why didn't we take the money?" she inquired, her eyes reflecting
curiosity and a hint of greed.
Uncle Abdalah, his expression unchanged, calmly replied, "It wasn't part of the mission. Our
focus is on the bigger picture."

"How do you live without money?" she pressed further, her curiosity piqued by his
unconventional lifestyle.
"Money is useless unless you know how to use it wisely," he explained. "It's only important
when you need it."
"And when will you need it?" she asked, her curiosity turning into intrigue.
"That," he said with a mysterious smile, "is the next mission."
The next day, under the cover of darkness, they embarked on one of the most audacious heists
ever planned. Their target: a convoy transporting BMO's ill-gotten gains from its laundering
operations to the bank. With precision and stealth, they kidnapped the car carrying the dirty
money, leaving behind a scene of chaos and confusion.
The news of this daring heist spread like wildfire within the criminal underworld. It was a blow
that the BMO had never anticipated, leaving them reeling from the magnitude of the loss.
Josephine and Uncle Abdalah had orchestrated a heist so grand that it would be remembered as
one of the greatest defeats the BMO ever faced, signaling a new era of challenges and setbacks
for the notorious organization.
A wave of fear washed over the city as news of a new serial killer spread like wildfire. This
mysterious murderer operated with unparalleled cunning, employing different tactics for each
kill and managing to evade surveillance cameras every time. The victims were a peculiar
selection: politicians, drug dealers, and money launderers, all somehow linked to the notorious
BMO operations.
Inside the imposing walls of the BMO headquarters, an emergency meeting was called. Board
members, usually composed and confident, now wore expressions of concern. The discussion

centered around the rising threat of the serial killer, who seemed to have a vendetta against their
organization.
One board member, his voice laced with frustration and confusion, suggested a drastic measure.
"BMO has been operating peacefully across the globe," he argued, "but why should a single
country like Danes bother us so much? We've already lost a significant amount of our
investments. Perhaps it's time to cut our losses and shut down our operations in that country. It's
not worth risking our entire organization over this relentless killer."
His suggestion hung heavily in the air, a testament to the seriousness of the situation. The board
members exchanged glances, contemplating the difficult decision that lay before them. The
stakes were higher than ever, and the shadow of the serial killer loomed ominously over their
once-untouchable empire.
In the hushed atmosphere of the BMO boardroom, the discussion about shutting down operations
in Dane country intensified. Omari bin Salim, the BMO Chief Executive, stood firm, his voice
rising with passion and frustration. "Shut up!" he exploded, silencing the room momentarily.
Omari, a man obsessed with the financial gains of the organization, raised his voice once more,
his words sharp and cutting. "For the last 20 years, our earnings contribution rate from Dane
country has been over 40%," he stated, his eyes ablaze with conviction. "That's more than any
other country has ever achieved for us. Shutting down our entire operations just because we fear
a single person? That's not our goal. I won't let us lose trillions over such a reckless decision."
His words hung heavily in the air, challenging the very core of the discussion. The board
members exchanged uneasy glances, realizing the weight of the financial implications involved.

The fate of BMO's operations in Dane country now rested on a delicate balance between fear and
financial gain. The room fell silent, the tension palpable, as they contemplated the consequences
of their next move.
Amidst the murmurs that rippled through the conference hall, Omari bin Salim stood resolute,
proposing the activation of the EXCODICUS protocol. The atmosphere grew tense as people
conflicted with his decision. The EXCODICUS protocol, a closely guarded secret, comprised
highly trained mercenaries strategically placed in every country. They were an elite force,
activated only in times of severe crisis, operating in the shadows, untraceable, devoid of
emotions, and incapable of forming attachments. A single push of a button would set in motion a
network of skilled assassins, deployed to eliminate threats worldwide
The board members, aware of the gravity of the situation, decided to put the matter to a final
vote, adhering to the principles laid out in the BMO constitution. The room was divided,
reflecting the organization's internal conflict. Many members voted against the activation of
EXCODICUS, signaling their dissent. It was a pivotal moment where the organization teetered
on the edge, torn between the leader's bold decision and the growing dissatisfaction within its
ranks. The fate of BMO now hung in the balance, dependent on the outcome of this critical vote.
Madeline, cloaked in the shadows like a vengeful spirit, approached Nick Calman's house with a
silent determination. Her gloved hands concealed any trace of her identity as she moved swiftly
through the darkness. Inside, Nick Calman, the NIA chief operator, was seated on his couch,
unaware of the impending danger.

Feeling a chilling presence behind him, he turned slowly, his eyes widening in fear. "H- hello,
Nick Calman. I just want you to know this isn't personal," Madeline's voice was cold, devoid of
any emotion.
Desperation gripped Nick as he tried to bargain for his life. He pleaded with Madeline,
promising to reveal Veronica's location if she spared him. Madeline, after a moment's
consideration, agreed to his terms. With a heavy heart, Nick divulged the information Madeline
sought. However, as he uttered the last piece of crucial intel, death swiftly followed. Madeline
fulfilled her end of the bargain in her own twisted way, leaving Nick Calman's lifeless body as a
testament to her ruthless determination.
Madeline swiftly exited the crime scene, her steps purposeful as she headed towards the location
Nick Calman had disclosed. The information led her to a nondescript safe house where she had
been living with her lover, Colins. Unbeknownst to her, her sanctuary was about to be invaded
by the storm she had unleashed.
Meanwhile, in the solitude of the church, Veronica remained deep in thought, wrestling with the
demons of her past. Her mind was clouded with regret and guilt, the weight of her choices
bearing down on her. In this moment of introspection, a notification message on her phone
shattered the silence. It read, "We rescued him safely," and it was from Uncle Sam.
The message served as a stark reminder that despite her attempts to cleanse her conscience and
make amends, Veronica was still haunted by the consequences of the wrong choices she had
made in her life. The past continued to cast its long, dark shadow over her, a constant reminder
of the tangled web of secrets and sins that had entwined her fate.

As Josephine advanced towards her target, a sense of determination gripped her. Her mission
was clear: to exact revenge for the brutal murder of her parents. However, amidst her steely
resolve, doubt crept into her mind like a whispering shadow.
Raymond, the man she was now tracking down, had once shielded her from the darkness of that
dreadful night when her parents had been slain. He had hidden her away from his fellow
execution team members, attempting to protect her innocence. Yet, despite his efforts, the
consequences of that pivotal choice now reverberated through the corridors of fate.
Josephine found herself torn between the gratitude she felt for Raymond's past protection and the
ruthless pursuit of vengeance that now consumed her. A conflict raged within her, a battle
between loyalty and retribution. As she pressed on, her footsteps heavy with purpose, she
grappled with the complexity of her emotions, uncertain of the path she would ultimately choose.
Raymond felt the icy grip of fear clutching his heart as Josephine's voice, laced with anger,
pierced the tranquility of the garden. He turned slowly, his eyes widening in shock as he found
himself face-to-face with the determined young woman who sought answers, her gaze like steel.
"Josephine?" Raymond stammered, his voice betraying his surprise.
With a gun pressed against his back, he knew he had no choice but to answer her questions
truthfully. Each word he uttered carried the weight of his survival, and he began to explain the
events that had led to the tragic night that had shattered her life.
His words spilled out, revealing the cruel decisions he had been forced to make, the orders from
his superiors, and the reluctant role he had played in saving her life. Tears welled in his eyes, a
mixture of remorse and fear, as he pleaded for understanding. He begged for mercy, his
vulnerability laid bare before the woman who held his fate in her hands.

"I'm sorry... I don't do tears," Josephine's voice remained steady, her resolve unyielding. Her
finger tightened on the trigger, and a gunshot echoed through the garden, missing Raymond by a
hair's breadth. The message was clear – she demanded the truth about Uncle Sam's whereabouts,
and she was prepared to do whatever it took to obtain it. Raymond, caught in the grip of her
relentless determination, had no choice but to comply, hoping that his honesty might earn him a
chance at redemption.
The smoke began to clear, revealing the carnage that had unfolded in mere moments. Bodies lay
scattered across the floor, victims of Josephine's swift and deadly assault. Amidst the chaos,
Uncle Sam found himself on the ground, desperately searching for a weapon to defend himself.
His hands trembled as he groped in the darkness, but before he could find a means of protection,
a cold metal barrel pressed against his forehead. The voice that accompanied it was familiar yet
laced with vengeance. "Who gave the order?" Josephine's demand cut through the air like a
knife.
Uncle Sam, his face etched with fear, stammered, "I've carried out countless orders for the BMO.
Who are you?"
In a swift motion, Josephine removed her cloth, revealing her face – a mask of determination and
vengeance. "Josephine?" Uncle Sam's disbelief was evident. "I thought you were dead."
Her eyes, cold and unyielding, bore into his. "Orders always come from my superiors, but I have
no clearance to contact them. Veronica, Raymond's mother, was the one with direct access to
them. But be warned, she betrayed the BMO, and she won't be able to help you now." He
defended.

Desperation flickered in Uncle Sam's eyes. "Where can I find her?" She asked, his voice barely a
whisper.
Josephine's smile was chilling, a contrast to her once-innocent demeanor. She vanished into the
darkness, her final words hanging in the air, "Your soul owes me a bullet. You won't see it
coming. Do nothing stupid." With that, she disappeared, leaving Uncle Sam in a state of dread,
knowing that his fate hung in the balance, and his past sins had come back to haunt him.
Raymond's eyes crackled in surprise as he stepped into the safe house, only to find out several
bodies lying on the floor. His voice cracked with remorse as he confronted Uncle Sam. "I'm
sorry, Sam," he stammered, tears streaming down his face. "I let her escape the night we broke
into RCO Salum's house."
Uncle Sam placed a reassuring hand on Raymond's shoulder. "Hey... hey, there's nothing wrong,
okay?" he said, trying to calm him. "You did the right thing back then. But now, we need to face
the truth. We're going to meet your mother, Veronica. She's the one who can end all of this."
Raymond's tears flowed freely as the weight of betrayal settled heavily upon him. His fists
clenched, striking Uncle Sam's face in a moment of raw anger and disbelief. "You knew all this
time about my mother's whereabouts, yet you didn't tell me anything?" His voice cracked with a
mixture of sorrow and rage.
The sense of betrayal seemed to close in from every side of Raymond's life. He cried for the trust
shattered, for the secrets that had festered, and for the pain that seemed never-ending.
After the waves of grief had washed over him, Raymond locked eyes with Uncle Sam, his
expression determined. "No more secrets between us," he declared, his voice resolute.

Uncle Sam nodded solemnly, his face mirroring the gravity of the situation. "That's right," he
agreed, his tone firm, acknowledging the need for honesty and unity in the face of their
adversaries. Meanwhile, deep underground, in a dim and dank room, Elizabeth Deathtrap
endured unimaginable torture. Despite the pain, she remained silent, refusing to divulge any
information. Her captors, frustrated by her resilience, decided to relocate her to a new, more
secure location. Little did they know, their actions had set off a chain of events that would soon
lead to their downfall.
Ladies and gentlemen, this is Halen Steven from MTV News, bringing you the latest
developments on a series of shocking incidents that have left the citizens of United States of
Danes in a state of fear and disbelief.
Firstly, the NIA chief operator, Nick Calman, has been found shot dead at his office after being
missing for several days. His mysterious death follows a string of brutal killings that have left the
authorities puzzled. Sources suggest a possible connection between these killings and the recent
military attack on a convoy, which resulted in the escape of Raymond Philemon, leaving 42
bodies in its wake. In addition to these events, the mayor of Yeko Tichi county, Ramadhan
Saleh, was found dead at his residence. The circumstances surrounding his death remain unclear,
but authorities are investigating any possible links to the other incidents.
Furthermore, a live scene report reveals the discovery of 23 highly trained individuals at an
abandoned house on Diamond Street. These individuals appear to possess military training,
raising concerns about their involvement in the recent spate of violence. Authorities are offering
no official details at this time, but there are growing suspicions that these massacres are

interconnected, possibly indicating a coordinated effort to eliminate individuals involved in
criminal activities within the country.
Another reporter from DSK news reported, "We regret to inform you that the United States of
Danes is currently reeling from an unprecedented wave of violence, resulting in more than 127
murders and disappearances that have shocked the nation. The escalating crisis has led to
widespread panic and fear among the citizens, prompting urgent questions about the safety and
security of the country. The reported atrocities include a horrifying incident at the Leto Gold
Mines on October 20th, where 57 individuals were brutally murdered, including prominent
figures like Philemon Sapuka and Joshua Shoko. In addition to this, Kennedy Martin, a respected
IT expert within the Police force, was found murdered under mysterious circumstances.
Tragically, the violence has also claimed the lives of RCO Salum Motoko and his wife, leaving
their daughter, Josephine Salum, missing. The whereabouts of Nance Williams, Veronica
Philemon, other individuals caught up in these horrifying events, remain unknown. The situation
escalated further with the shocking kidnapping of Raymond, who later managed to escape,
leading to the tragic deaths of 42 highly trained military soldiers during his escape attempt.
Furthermore, a fresh massacre involving 23 individuals, all seemingly trained, occurred at
Diamond's Street, intensifying the sense of dread and confusion among the public. The
increasing number of murders and disappearances has left the citizens in a state of unrest.
Frustration and anger have boiled over, leading to public demonstrations and gatherings, with
people demanding answers from the government. Some citizens have resorted to protest, taking
to the streets to voice their concerns and urge the authorities to provide clarity regarding these

heinous crimes. The United States of Danes is now facing an unprecedented crisis, with citizens
growing increasingly desperate for information and reassurance. We will continue to monitor
this harrowing situation and provide updates as more details emerge. Stay tuned to DSK News
for the latest developments on this deeply troubling series of events.
In the dimly lit park, shadows danced eerily under the flickering streetlights, setting the stage for
a confrontation long overdue. The air was heavy with tension, and an ominous silence hung in
the atmosphere. The leaves rustled nervously as if nature itself sensed the impending storm.
Veronica stood by the park bench, her face etched with anxiety, unaware of the storm that was
about to hit her life. Uncle Sam, standing nearby, appeared conflicted, torn between allegiance
and the need for truth. Little did they know, Raymond, fueled by years of unanswered questions
and betrayal, was silently approaching, his footsteps echoing the building storm inside him.
"I can explain, Raymond," Veronica began, her voice trembling with a mix of guilt and
desperation. "Your father... he was involved in things, dangerous things. I had to protect you. I
had to make sure you stayed safe."
Raymond's grip on the gun tightened. "Protect me? Is that what you call it? You tore our family
apart! You made me an orphan, and for what? Your twisted sense of justice? I deserved to know
the truth, not live a lie."
Raymond: (sniffling, his voice shaky) I trusted you, Mother. I thought you were the one person I
could always rely on.
Veronica: (nervously, avoiding eye contact) Raymond, you don't understand the complexities of
the situation.

Raymond: (raising his voice, anger and betrayal in his eyes) Complexity? You call killing my
father and turning my life into a nightmare "complexity"? I deserve to know the truth!
Uncle Sam: (trying to mediate, his voice calm yet uneasy) Raymond, please, your mother has her
reasons. We all have our roles to play.
Raymond: (pressing the gun against his forehead, tears streaming down his face) Roles? What
role did I play, Uncle Sam? The pawn in her twisted game? I won't be a part of this anymore.
Veronica: (desperate, her voice trembling) Raymond, I did it all to protect you, to give you a
better future.
Raymond: (sarcastic laugh, his finger on the trigger) Protect me? By tearing apart our family,
ruining lives? I trusted you, and you betrayed me. Now, it's time for the truth, Mother, no more
lies.
"Before you ask for the truth, make sure you have a chest to receive it, son," Veronica's words
trembled as she spoke, a frail attempt to defend herself against the storm of anger brewing in her
son's eyes.
Raymond's face contorted with a mixture of pain and rage. "Skip the politics part and start telling
me everything," he bellowed, his voice echoing off the walls, a chilling reminder of the danger
that lurked beneath his calm facade.
"Philemon wasn't your biological father," Veronica confessed, her voice barely audible, drowned
out by the weight of her guilt. "His death was inevitable, a part of the criminal organization,
BMO. I played a role in these serial killings. I made a grave mistake, and I understand that now.
But please, spare my life. Give me a chance to correct my mistakes," she begged, her pleas
hanging in the air like a desperate whisper in the dark.

Suddenly, Uncle Sam's urgent voice shattered the heavy silence. "She's here," he warned, his
tone laced with urgency and fear, amplifying the sense of impending doom that loomed over
them.
"Who's here?" Veronica's voice cracked, her confusion mirrored in her wide, terrified eyes.
"Josephine Salum, RCO's daughter," Raymond's words were like ice, sending shivers down
Veronica's spine. "We owe you an explanation for the sake of our lives."
Veronica's breath hitched, realizing the gravity of her actions as she handed Raymond the hard
drive. He took it with a steely resolve, his eyes cold and unforgiving, casting a shadow on the
woman who had once been his mother.
Backing away, Raymond's face was a mask of betrayal and bitterness. "For the record, you are
not the mother I used to be proud of," he hissed, his words dripping with venom. "Tell the man
who claims to be my father he better have enough reasons to let him live. Consider this a
warning from your grown-up son. Madeline is on her way towards you. Watch your back."
With that bone-chilling ultimatum, Raymond turned on his heel, leaving Veronica broken and
vulnerable on the cold floor, her world collapsing around her. The room seemed to close in,
echoing with the weight of secrets and the ghostly cries of the past, leaving everyone within it
drowning in a sea of dread and despair.
In the eerie aftermath of the chilling confrontation, Josephine stood there, her emotions in
turmoil. She couldn't help but empathize with Raymond, feeling the raw pain he carried, making
her heart ache in response.
"What's next?" Uncle Sam's voice cut through the heavy silence, his tone laced with a strange
mix of determination and apprehension.

"We are going to a party, to all," Raymond said, his voice void of any emotion. Josephine
watched him closely, sensing the storm of emotions he was suppressing beneath his steely
exterior.
Josephine stepped forward, her eyes meeting Raymond's with a newfound intensity. "We need a
plan, weapons, and zero chance of leaving anything to chance after the incident we're about to
face," she said, her voice unwavering, her determination matching Raymond's own.
They moved together, heading toward the basement of Raymond's house, where an arsenal of
weapons lay in wait. The air was thick with tension as they gathered what they needed, preparing
for the battle that loomed ahead. As they geared up, Josephine turned to Raymond, her eyes
locking onto his. "Wanna escort me to the bathroom?" she asked, her voice soft, yet there was an
undeniable depth of connection in her gaze. Uncle Sam, with his keen understanding, simply
smiled, recognizing the unspoken understanding between the two.
In that moment, amid the impending chaos, an unspoken bond formed between Josephine and
Raymond, their shared burden and the gravity of their mission drawing them closer, forging a
connection neither of them had anticipated. The weight of their destinies pressed upon them, yet
in each other, they found an unexpected source of strength. Little did they know, their paths were
irrevocably intertwined, destined to navigate the storm together.
In the dim light of the park, where Veronica's life had been spared by her own son, the air hung
heavy with tension. She was acutely aware that Raymond, her once beloved child, wouldn't
hesitate to take her life if their paths crossed again. Guilt gnawed at her, a constant reminder of
the mistakes she had committed. Thus why she stayed Inside the church seeking solace, her heart

heavy with remorse. She fervently prayed, repenting for her sins, hoping for redemption. She
knew deep down that she had failed not only as a mother but as a human being. The weight of
her actions bore down on her, each mistake a haunting echo in her conscience. In the midst of her
prayers, Veronica's thoughts drifted to Nance Williams, a pawn in the dangerous game she had
played. Regret clawed at her heart as she realized she had kept Nance's fate hidden, a secret
buried deep within her. A pang of conscience whispered that if she had revealed the truth,
perhaps Raymond's course would have been altered. But fear, mixed with a twisted sense of
loyalty, had kept her silent.
Meanwhile, in a different corner of the world, at the basement, Uncle Sam stood motionless, his
eyes fixed on the image of Jesus Christ adorning the wall. The flickering candlelight cast eerie
shadows across his face, reflecting the turmoil within his soul. Doubt and self-reflection clouded
his mind. He questioned his own morality, grappling with the duality of his actions.
"Am I a good person or a bad one?" he murmured, his voice barely audible amid the solemn
ambiance of the room. He wrestled with the contradictions of his existence, torn between the
lives he had taken and the mercy shown to him by Josephina. In the midst of his internal
struggle, one truth remained undeniable: Josephina had spared his life, an act of mercy he hadn't
anticipated. The weight of this unexpected kindness pressed upon him, planting a seed of doubt
in his mind. Was there a chance for redemption, or was he doomed to forever be haunted by the
choices he had made? The flicker of hope clashed with the darkness within him, leaving him in a
state of profound uncertainty.

Amidst the shroud of darkness, Madeline approached the hidden safe house, her eyes fixed on a
piece of paper clutched tightly in her hand. The moonlight glinted off her determined eyes,
reflecting the resolve within her. With every step, she grew more certain that she had finally
found the elusive location she had been searching for. Silently, she slipped through the shadows,
moving with practiced grace and precision. The walls of the safe house loomed before her,
concealing the mysteries within. Her breaths were measured, her senses heightened, as she
prepared for what lay ahead.
Entering the safe house, Madeline's sharp eyes scanned the room, seeking any sign of the woman
she had sworn to find – Veronica. To her surprise, she found a man she didn't recognize, his form
crumpled on the floor in an abyss of regret. His tears stained the ground, marking the depths of
his despair. Madeline's gaze lingered on him, piecing together the puzzle in her mind. If Nick
Calman had provided this location, this man must hold a significant connection to Veronica.
In that moment, the urge for revenge clawed at her, demanding justice for the lives lost and the
blood spilled. Her hand tightened around the grip of her gun, the weight of her past actions heavy
on her conscience. The memories of countless deaths flooded her mind, reminding her of the
darkness she had embraced.
Yet, something within her hesitated. The gun wavered in her hand, uncertainty flickering in her
eyes. She remembered the path of destruction she had carved and the countless souls she had
silenced. A haunting realization gripped her – she couldn't continue this cycle of violence.
With a profound sense of restraint, Madeline chose to spare the man before her. The gun
lowered, her finger released its grip on the trigger. In that moment, she denied the darkness
within her, opting for a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos.

Little did she know, the man she spared was Colins – Raymond's biological father, a figure from
the past whose significance had eluded her until now. The complexities of their intertwined fates
remained veiled, waiting to unravel in the face of the choices they would make.
In the intimate confines of the bathroom, Raymond and Josephine found solace in each other's
arms. Time seemed to stand still as they shared a moment of tenderness amidst the chaos
surrounding them. Their hearts beat in harmony, entwined in a love that defied the darkness
closing in. Little did they know, this fleeting moment of happiness might be their last.
Meanwhile, in a house shrouded in shadows, NIA agents Raynolds, Anna, and Michael
meticulously combed through Nick Calman's belongings, seeking clues to his mysterious demise.
With precision, they entered his private space, their determined eyes scanning the room for any
semblance of truth.
Their attention was drawn to a peculiar discovery – Calman's phone, a key to unraveling the
enigma that had plagued them. Swiftly, they breached his locker, their hands sifting through its
contents with a sense of urgency. Their eyes widened in astonishment as they stumbled upon an
unexpected treasure trove – bundles of money neatly stacked, checks bearing the name
"Madeline Alfred."
"Possibly he was the dirty officer," Raynolds murmured, his voice laced with suspicion. The
room seemed to tighten with tension as they continued their search, the truth hanging in the
balance, waiting to be unearthed.

In the dimly lit headquarters, the three determined NIA agents - Raynolds, Anna, and Michael -
gathered around a cluttered desk, their faces reflecting the weight of the mysteries they sought to
solve. With a whiteboard covered in scribbles before them, they delved into their latest theory.
"It looks like RCO Salum, Kennedy Martin, and Nick Calman were good people earlier,"
Raynolds began, his voice echoing with a mix of frustration and determination. "But then, along
their investigations, they came too close to the truth. Some were forced to take money, like Nick
Calman, perhaps in favor of breaching the intel. But the question still remains: why was he killed
then? Some maybe refused to collaborate with them, like Kennedy and Salum Motoko, and were
killed on the spot. But why did they spare Kennedy's wife, Everlin, while killing the entire
family of RCO Salum?"
Anna, ever insightful, made a suggestion that hung in the air like a lifeline of hope. "Maybe if we
talk to Margareth Cosmas, it could help us complete our puzzle."
Determined and resolute, the trio made their way to the underground section, G-wing, where
Margareth Cosmas was held captive for interrogation. With every step, they prayed that she
would provide them with the crucial information needed to unravel the truth and bring justice to
those whose lives had been shattered. The truth seemed elusive, yet they remained undeterred,
ready to confront whatever darkness lay ahead.
In the cold, dimly-lit cell, the atmosphere was tense as Margareth Cosmas faced the three NIA
agents, her smirk betraying a mix of defiance and frustration.
"Trouble in paradise, huh!?" she mocked, her words dripping with sarcasm.

Raynolds, Anna, and Michael exchanged glances, the gravity of their situation weighing heavily
on their shoulders. After a lengthy conversation detailing the weight of the circumstances,
Margareth leaned forward, a glimmer of calculation in her eyes.
A big cake on this actually," she said, a sly smile playing on her lips.
"What do you want?" Raynolds asked, his frustration and anger palpable.
Margareth laughed, a bitter sound that echoed off the prison walls. "Don't stress yourself, young
man. Here's the deal." She clapped her palms on the table, her eyes glinting with cunning. "I
want full immunity on this. I want my name cleared of charges, complete security – people who
will watch my back. Because if I sign up for this, I'll be hanging myself on a very strong rope,
one I won't survive. Lastly, I want my name enrolled in your systems as your criminal informer.
If anything happens, it's just part of the job. You want, I want. Sign the papers. You don't want?
Get out of here," she finished, her tone leaving no room for negotiation.
The agents exchanged glances once more, realizing the gravity of the deal they were about to
strike. The stakes were high, and the path ahead was murky. They knew they had to make a
decision that could potentially shape the course of their investigation and uncover the truth
hidden within the shadows.
Margareth's voice trembled as she began to divulge the dark secrets buried within the intricate
web of power and corruption. The agents leaned in, their faces reflecting a mixture of
anticipation and grim determination.
"NIA, the special agency organization established to sweep terrorism brought by criminal
organizations in the Dane Country, especially BMO," Margareth began, her voice low but
steady. "It was founded in 1886, under President Jesca Mullein's administration." She continued,

"Simultaneously, President Mullein established THE JUSTICE ORGANIZATION, initially
conceived as a security guard company. However, under the influence of General Friedrick
Blacksmith, a sinister transformation occurred. He orchestrated an assassination that led to the
first coup d'état in the United States of Dane Country's history. TJO ceased to be a mere security
company and evolved into an international mercenary force, available for hire to execute anyone
deemed a threat."
Margareth's eyes narrowed as she delved deeper into the tangled conspiracy. "Meanwhile, BMO,
the criminal organization, held a substantial stake in the USD economy. They controlled harbors,
industries, institutions, pharmacies, construction companies, and mining operations. They were
omnipresent. President Friedrick Blacksmith saw an opportunity and struck a secret pact with
BMO. The treaty they signed contained a clause preventing either party from interfering with the
other—a conflict of interest code, if you will."
The agents exchanged glances, the pieces of the puzzle finally falling into place. The intricate
dance between power, greed, and manipulation had shaped the fate of an entire nation.
Margareth's revelation was a chilling testament to the depth of corruption that had infiltrated the
highest echelons of their society. They knew that this information could shatter the foundations
of the existing order, but it also posed immense danger. They were now burdened with the
responsibility of deciding how to wield this newfound knowledge, all while navigating the
treacherous waters of deceit and treachery.
Margareth's revelation unfolded like a nightmarish tale, each word carrying the weight of
decades of deception and treachery. The agents listened intently, their minds grappling with the
enormity of the information they were receiving.

"TJO, once a symbol of security, had been transformed into an instrument of terror under
President Friedrick's command," Margareth continued, her voice etched with bitterness. "Public
leaders who dared to oppose him met a gruesome fate, and corruption infiltrated every sector of
the country. The leadership of TJO changed hands multiple times, each new leader becoming a
pawn in this grand, malevolent scheme. Meanwhile, BMO's influence extended far beyond the
borders of Dane country; their branches spread across the globe like a malignant cancer."
She paused, the gravity of the next revelation weighing heavily upon her. "The turning point
occurred in 1980 when a young girl named Madeline was assaulted, forcing her to drop out of
school. Her friend, Veronica, shared the same fate. Veronica eventually married into the wealthy
Sapuka family, becoming entangled in her husband Philemon Sapuka's ambitions. Both husband
and wife became members of BMO, a decision that would seal their fate."
Margareth's voice dropped to a chilling whisper. "Veronica made a fatal error when she hired
TJO to execute her own husband, Philemon, a prominent member of BMO. This act violated the
conflict-of-interest code that prohibited either party from interfering with the other. To carry out
the hit, TJO assigned the job to Veronica's childhood friend, Madeline Alfred, who had
unknowingly become the instrument of her husband's demise."
A heavy silence hung in the air as the agents processed this shocking revelation. The intricate
web of betrayal, revenge, and manipulation had ensnared even the closest of relationships,
leaving behind a trail of destruction that spanned decades. With this newfound knowledge, the
agents faced the daunting task of untangling the truth and confronting the malevolent forces that
had cast their shadow over the nation. The battle for justice had just begun, and the stakes had
never been higher.

Margareth's words hung in the air like a shroud of darkness, enveloping the agents in a chilling
silence. Her revelation was a damning indictment of the corruption that had seeped into the very
foundations of their government and law enforcement agencies.
"I was deployed by a powerful figure within the government, a name I won't utter," Margareth
continued, her tone laced with bitterness. "My role was to handle any collateral damage that
might occur during the course of the investigation. I assumed the guise of Kennedy's friend, a
man loyal to his country. But loyalty, as you can see, comes at a grave cost. Kennedy, Everlin,
and even their innocent pet were supposed to fell victim to this sinister game. I was supposed to
silence them because Kennedy failed to deliver the information BMO desired. I only killed
Kennedy before ending up before these bars. Thanks to God, Everlin and her pet are still alive.
That's good, right?" She mocked the agents.
A bitter laugh escaped her lips as she recounted the horrors she had witnessed. "When Salum
Motoko, a man of integrity, resisted BMO's demands, they sent Samwel Julian and Raymond to
enforce their will. Salum and his wife paid the ultimate price, their lives snuffed out mercilessly.
As for their daughter, a mere 17-year-old, her fate remains shrouded in mystery, though I highly
doubt she escaped unscathed.
The agents exchanged somber glances, the weight of Margareth's revelations settling upon them
like a crushing burden. The depth of the conspiracy they were unraveling seemed unfathomable,
and the enemies they faced were not only powerful but ruthless beyond measure. The journey
toward justice had become a treacherous odyssey, where every step could lead them deeper into
the abyss of darkness. Their resolve was tested, but they knew there was no turning back. The
truth had to be exposed, no matter the cost.
"How does that relate to Nick Calman's case?", he inquired, his anger vivid on his eyes.

Margareth's voice dripped with bitterness as she continued her tale, relaying the intricate web of
betrayal and vengeance that had entangled their lives.
"After Veronica lost control of the situation, she abandoned her family, leaving Raymond in the
hands of Uncle Sam, another childhood friend," Margareth sneered, her words laced with
sarcasm. "BMO headquarters, in response to the loss of their esteemed Continental BMO leader,
Philemon, put a price on Veronica's head—a staggering $150 million."
She paused, her eyes glinting with a mixture of malice and amusement. "TJO received the
contract, and once again, they blundered. They entrusted the task to Madeline, Veronica's
childhood friend. But Madeline failed to execute the job as required. In response, BMO issued an
ultimatum: deliver Veronica's head, or Madeline's own daughter, Nance Williams, would pay the
price."
A bitter chuckle escaped Margareth's lips, her eyes narrowing with a chilling intensity. "You
know what's ironic?" she asked, her voice dripping with scorn. "Madeline, driven to desperation,
chose to kidnap Raymond and subjected him to months of torture."
The room fell into a heavy silence as Margareth's words hung in the air, leaving the NIA agents
stunned by the horrifying revelations that unfolded before them. The sinister forces at play
seemed unstoppable, weaving a tapestry of deception, revenge, and despair that threatened to
consume them all. The gravity of their mission weighed on their shoulders as they realized the
enormity of the battle they faced. The lines between right and wrong blurred in the face of such
darkness, and the agents knew they had to tread carefully if they were to navigate this
treacherous path toward justice.

Agent Raynolds questioned Margareth, "where will we find this Samwel Julian or Raymond?",
curiosity vivid in his eyes.
"You see, Agent Raynolds," she sneered, "finding Samwel Julian or Raymond won't be a simple
task. BMO's intricate network spans the globe, and they have contingencies in place for
situations like this. Their safehouses are designed with secrecy in mind, equipped with escape
routes and hidden exits known only to the organization."
Her expression darkened as she continued, a flicker of concern crossing her face. "But recently,
there have been whispers of a drastic measure within BMO—something they rarely resort to,
unless they believe their control is slipping."
"What do you mean?" Anna asked, her voice laced with curiosity.
Margareth hesitated for a moment before answering, "It's called the EXCODICUS—a call to
activate mercenary operatives globally. These mercenaries are trained to operate in the face of
utter chaos, a last resort for BMO when they fear losing their grip on a situation."
"The board must approve it, right?" Michael interjected.
Margareth nodded, her eyes clouded with uncertainty. "Yes, the decision to initiate
EXCODICUS rests with the board, and it's not taken lightly. The fact that they are even
considering it suggests the gravity of the situation. BMO might still have a semblance of control,
but they're teetering on the edge."
Anna, meanwhile, delved into the details on her pad. "RCO Salum's daughter, Josephine Salum,
is a 17-year-old studying electrical engineering. Her parents and guardian, Uncle Abdallah, are
the only family she has."

"Uncle Abdallah," Anna continued, her eyes narrowing as she read from the database, "is a
military veteran. He was sent on a harrowing mission in the 1990s to confront BMO insurgency
in Lex country. He was betrayed by his own General, lost his entire unit of 24 soldiers in a car
bomb explosion, and was presumed dead. But if he's alive and involved, he might be the key to
understanding Josephine's motivations."
The room fell into a heavy silence as the agents processed the newfound information, realizing
that they were dealing with a situation far more complex and deeply rooted than they had
initially thought. The shadows of the past, woven into the present, made them mission all the
more perilous. They had entered a labyrinth of secrets, and finding their way out would require
navigating treacherous terrain and uncovering truths that had long been buried.
Agent Raynolds, his mind racing to piece together the puzzle, barked urgently, "We need to get
to Raymond's apartment ASAP!"
In a matter of minutes, a convoy of military cars raced toward Raymond's apartment complex.
Upon arrival, their hearts sank as they found the place empty. Frustration and suspicion loomed
in the air, and for a moment, they contemplated accusing Margareth of deception.
Margareth stepped forward, her eyes sharp with determination. She motioned for the agents to
stand back and, with practiced precision, revealed a concealed trapdoor beneath the dining room
floor. A glass keyboard caught their attention as Margareth swiftly entered a series of passwords,
causing the secret door to open. The agents followed her into an elevator that descended deep
underground.
"Holy shit," Agent Raynolds muttered, his eyes wide with shock as they entered the expansive
basement. It resembled more of a high-tech fortress than a simple hiding place. They

meticulously searched every section—gym, control room, training grounds, resting rooms,
bathrooms, toilets, and an arsenal room—but found no sign of their targets.
"Where are they?" Michael demanded, his frustration palpable.
Margareth, her eyes scanning the room carefully, spotted a woman's clothing lying on a table.
There was a necklace, a military relic from the 1990s—it belonged to Uncle Abdallah, a lucky
charm he had given to Josephine.
Their search intensified, but all they discovered were traces of their elusive targets. Josephine,
Raymond, and Uncle Sam had vanished, leaving behind a chilling sense of foreboding.
"They've headed to Lisome City," Margareth stated, her voice edged with disbelief.
"Lisome City? What's there?" Raynolds asked, his expression a mix of confusion and surprise.
"A BMO Continental Relay Station, BCRS," Margareth replied gravely. "This move is
incredibly dangerous. It's a direct confrontation with BMO on their own turf. This, my friends, is
a suicide mission."
[🎵Wait for Me🎵 by Johnny Drille]
Veronica, her heart heavy with mixed emotions, prepared to take Nance to the place she had
promised her—a sanctuary away from the chaos unfolding around them. Just then, a beeping
notification pierced the air, capturing her attention. She glanced at her phone to find a message
from Raymond.
Curiosity and trepidation mingled as she opened the message, revealing a video. With trembling
hands, she played it loud, connecting her phone to a Bluetooth speaker to amplify the sound.
"Mother, it's me, Raymond Philemon," his voice echoed in the room. "I'm sorry for the harsh
words I said to you earlier. I love you deeply, Mother, even though I could never fully
understand the complexities of your love for me. I always aspired to make you proud, to achieve

more than just my dreams, to fulfill the vision you had for me. Medicine was my dream, but you
shaped me into something greater—an agent against BMO."
He shifted the camera, revealing Josephine standing beside him. "I've found someone, Mother.
Someone willing to die for me, and someone I am willing to die for. This is Josephine, and
together, we are heading to Lisome City. BMO will no longer be a threat."
Raymond's gaze grew intense. "I am sorry, Mama," he continued, his voice cracking with
emotion. "I will be gone for a little while. I hope Nance will be proud of me, wherever she is. If
she's no longer with us, I believe we'll meet in the place where we used to dream together."
Veronica, her eyes brimming with tears, clung to every word, feeling a mix of pride and fear for
her son, understanding the gravity of the path he had chosen.
Veronica's heart shattered into a million pieces as Raymond's words echoed in her mind. Tears
streamed down her face as she whispered, "No, no, son, don't go there," her voice choked with
anguish. She tried to type a message in response, but her trembling hands caused the phone to
slip from her grasp.
In the midst of her despair, Nance, who had been preparing in the next room, heard Raymond's
heartfelt message. Sensing Veronica's pain, she rushed to Veronica and enveloped her in a warm,
comforting hug. Though her memories remained elusive, the profound love in Raymond's words
had touched her deeply.
Inside the helicopter, tension hung in the air as Raymond, Josephine, and Uncle Sam's crew
prepared for what lay ahead. In a moment of intimate vulnerability, Raymond gently kissed
Josephine, his eyes searching hers for assurance. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice
laced with concern.

With unwavering determination, Josephine met his gaze and replied, "Yes, darling. I'm ready."
Uncle Sam, the seasoned leader, glanced at Elizabeth Deathtrap, the enigmatic member of their
crew who had been silent throughout the journey. He posed the same question to her, giving her
the choice to back out before the battle ensued.
"It's your choice to make. You can decide to join us or turn back with the pilot," Uncle Sam said,
his eyes searching hers for resolve.
Elizabeth's eyes bore the weight of her past, the lives she had taken, the darkness she had
embraced. In that moment, a glimmer of redemption flickered within her. "I have taken a lot of
people's lives. At least let me do something good this time," she whispered to herself, her voice
barely audible over the helicopter's roar.
As they descended from the helicopter using ropes, their weapons at the ready, determination
etched on their faces, Elizabeth positioned herself strategically, ready to cover their backs. With
a swift motion, she raised her gun, the cold metal reassuring in her grip. The first shots were
fired, echoing the beginning of a battle that would determine the fate of Lisome City.
Shoulder to shoulder, they fought with unwavering determination, forming an unbreakable
human chain, each member of the team covering the other's back. Their movements were
synchronized, a ballet of combat expertise, as they rescued one another from the clutches of
danger.
In the heart of Lisome City, the air was thick with the acrid scent of blood and the pungent aroma
of gunpowder. The once-vibrant streets were now painted with chaos, the cityscape marred by
the echoes of gunfire and the crimson stains of battle. Buildings that once stood tall and proud
now bore the scars of the conflict, their windows shattered, and walls riddled with bullet holes.

Amidst the deafening cacophony of gunshots, people fell, their lives snuffed out in an instant.
Innocent bystanders, caught in the crossfire, became unintended casualties of the raging battle.
Each life lost was a poignant reminder of the cost of their fight against the darkness that had
gripped Lisome City.
The streets, once bustling with life, were now littered with fallen bodies. The cries of anguish
mixed with the shouts of defiance as survivors scrambled for cover, seeking refuge from the
relentless onslaught. Every corner turned revealed a new threat, and every alleyway hid a
potential adversary.
Yet, amidst the chaos, Raymond, Josephine, Uncle Sam, and Elizabeth stood firm, their resolve
unshaken. With every shot fired and every enemy vanquished, they carved a path of liberation
through the city, refusing to yield to the overwhelming odds stacked against them. United by a
shared purpose, they pressed forward, their courage shining brighter than the city's lights that
flickered above, determined to bring an end to the tyranny that had befallen Lisome.
Amidst the chaos of battle in Lisome City, back at Raymond's basement, the NIA agents were
meticulously examining the newly uploaded data, their eyes widening in disbelief at the depth of
corruption revealed before them. The room was filled with the hum of computers, the glow of
screens illuminating their determined faces.
"This... this is beyond anything we could have imagined," Agent Raynolds muttered, his voice
barely audible over the whirring of the machines. The uploaded files exposed not only the
sinister workings of BMO but also unveiled the web of complicity that had ensnared powerful
figures within the government.

As they sifted through the information, the agents realized the magnitude of the task ahead. The
evidence was staggering, encompassing years of clandestine operations, covert deals, and
unspeakable crimes committed in the shadows. It was a damning exposé that could shake the
very foundations of the nation.
News of the uploaded data quickly spread across the intelligence community and reached the
public. Raymond Philemon and his allies had not only attacked the BMO Relay Station in
Lisome City but had also unleashed a torrent of truth that could cleanse the nation from the
inside out.
Outside the basement, the world was changing. The revelation of the uploaded data hit the
airwaves, and news anchors struggled to convey the sheer gravity of the situation. Ordinary
citizens watched in disbelief as their screens displayed the names of corrupt politicians,
businessmen, and high-ranking officials linked to TJO & BMO's sinister operations.
The scenes of Raymond, Josephine, and Uncle Sam fighting in Lisome City were juxtaposed
with images of protests erupting on the streets. People, armed with newfound knowledge,
demanded justice, transparency, and an end to the era of corruption. It was a revolution sparked
not by violence alone but by the power of truth.
The fight against BMO had become more than just a physical battle—it had transformed into a
war for the soul of the nation. In the midst of the chaos, hope flickered like a beacon,
illuminating the path toward a better future. The citizens, armed with the truth, stood united,
ready to rebuild their country from the ruins of deception.

In the midst of the mounting pressure, President Angel Nicole stood tall, her expression resolute.
"I understand the concerns and questions that have arisen due to recent events. The truth is, our
country has been plagued by corruption and shadowy organizations for far too long. It was a
systematic infiltration that went deeper than we could have ever imagined. Rest assured, I am
committed to cleaning up this mess, exposing every wrongdoer, and ensuring justice prevails."
As the revelations spread like wildfire, the nation was gripped by a mixture of shock, outrage,
and a newfound sense of hope. The public's eyes were opened to the depths of the deception that
had entangled their lives, and they rallied behind the courageous fighters who had dared to stand
against the darkness.
In living rooms, cafes, and workplaces, people tuned in to news channels, their eyes glued to
screens displaying the unfolding events. The story of Raymond Philemon, Josephine, Uncle Sam,
and their allies became a symbol of resistance against tyranny. Social media platforms buzzed
with discussions, hashtags, and shared articles, fueling a collective determination to demand
accountability from their leaders.
Amidst the chaos, a sense of unity emerged among the citizens. They began to realize that the
fight against BMO was not just a battle waged by a few individuals but a collective struggle for
the soul of their nation. The truth had set them free, not just from the grip of corrupt
organizations, but also from the shackles of ignorance and apathy.
In the heart of victory, tragedy struck with a vengeance. As Raymond's team celebrated their
hard-earned triumph in the BCRS building, a shadow moved silently in their midst. Unseen,
unheard, a BMO soldier slithered across the ground, his intentions as dark as the night
surrounding him. In a split second, he raised his weapon and fired a fatal shot at Uncle Sam's

back. The room was filled with the deafening sound of the gunshot, shattering the euphoria that
had filled the air just moments before.
Uncle Sam, the stalwart leader who had guided them through the storm, fell without a sound, his
life extinguished in an instant. The room, once alive with jubilation, was now heavy with a grief
so profound it felt like a physical weight on their chests.
Raymond's rage erupted like a volcano, his hands trembling as he gripped his weapon and
unleashed a storm of bullets upon the assassin. Each shot was a scream of fury and pain, a
desperate attempt to avenge the fallen hero. But even as he fired, the reality of Uncle Sam's death
settled in, crushing their spirits beneath its weight.
Josephine, usually fierce and unyielding, now stood frozen, her eyes wide with shock and
disbelief she was paralyzed by the suddenness of the loss. Their mentor, their protector, the man
who had given them hope and purpose, now lay lifeless before them.
Silence descended, broken only by the echoing gunfire that had ended the assailant's life. Tears
blurred their vision as they gathered around Uncle Sam's body, their grief unspoken but palpable.
The room, once a sanctuary of victory, had transformed into a sepulcher of their hopes and
dreams.
In the midst of their sorrow, a resolve hardened within them. Uncle Sam's sacrifice would not be
in vain. His legacy would live on through their determination to eradicate the darkness that had
claimed him. With heavy hearts and tear-streaked faces, they pledged to carry his courage
forward, fighting on in his memory. The sadness that gripped them fueled their determination,
strengthening their resolve to see their mission through to the end.

In the aftermath of the tragic loss of Uncle Sam, a solemn moment settled over the remaining
members of the team. Elizabeth Deathtrap, the enigmatic and lethal warrior, stepped forward, her
gaze steady and resolute. With a calm yet determined voice, she spoke to Josephine and
Raymond, her words carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken promises.
"I need some time alone to ease my mind," Elizabeth said, her tone soft yet firm. "But know this:
I'll always be watching your backs, even if you can't see me. My presence will be felt in the
shadows, a silent guardian guiding your steps."
She looked at them both, her eyes revealing a mixture of sympathy and determination. "I was
never here, but my loyalty will forever be with you," she added, her words hanging in the air like
a solemn oath.
With a last lingering glance, Elizabeth turned away, her silhouette disappearing into the dense
forest, swallowed by the unknown depths. She melded seamlessly with the shadows, her absence
felt more profoundly than her presence ever was. As Josephine and Raymond stood there, they
knew they weren't truly alone. Elizabeth's silent promise echoed in their hearts, a beacon of
strength and reassurance amid the darkness that surrounded them.
In the quiet solitude of his dimly lit room, Uncle Abdalah sat with a triumphant grin etched on
his face. His eyes were fixed on the news broadcast, his beer sweating in his hand, and a
substantial amount of money spread out in front of him. With each sip, he watched the screen
with a sense of vindication. "Ooh yeah, she did it. They did it," he muttered, raising his beer in a
silent toast to the screen. His mind, however, was already racing ahead, planning his next move.
Meanwhile, in Madeline's house, an eerie stillness settled after she returned from watching the
news. Unbeknownst to her, the dark forces of TJO's executioners were lurking in the shadows,

patiently biding their time. They knew it was too soon to make a move, patience being their
deadliest weapon.
As the NIA agents approached the area where Raymond and Josephine were, their movements
were methodical, guns drawn and expressions unyielding. They followed the standard protocols
of the United States of Dane, shouting stern commands at the duo.
"Drop your weapons! Get down on the ground, hands behind your heads!" Agent Raynolds
barked, his voice echoing with authority.
Raymond and Josephine, despite their exhaustion from the battle, complied without hesitation.
They dropped their weapons and knelt on the ground, hands placed firmly behind their heads.
The tension in the air was palpable as the agents cautiously approached, ensuring there were no
hidden surprises.
"You are under arrest for your involvement in the activities of the criminal organization BMO.
You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court
of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be provided for
you," Agent Anna recited the Miranda rights with precision, her gaze unwavering.
Raymond and Josephine remained silent, their eyes reflecting a mix of resignation and defiance.
The agents handcuffed them, securing their hands tightly behind their backs, ensuring they posed
no threat. The weight of the situation hung heavy in the air as the agents prepared to escort them
away from the scene, marking the end of their tumultuous journey and the beginning of a new
chapter in the fight against crime and corruption.

Good evening, I'm Helen Steven from MTV News. Today, a shocking revelation has shaken the
nation as Raymond Philemon and Josephine Salum stand accused of the murder of a staggering
total of 287 people. The couple, once hailed as heroes for their daring efforts against the criminal
organization BMO, now find themselves at the center of an international wide attention. The
authorities have been tirelessly investigating the recent events in Kito Region, Leto Region, and
Lisome City, where a series of violent incidents occurred, leaving countless dead in their wake.
Sources close to the investigation reveal that the victims include alleged BMO operatives,
corrupt politicians, and innocent civilians caught in the crossfire.
Raymond Philemon, a name previously associated with bravery and resilience, now faces serious
charges of multiple counts of murder, as does his partner, Josephine Salum. The couple, once
celebrated for their courage in confronting the criminal underworld, is now being pursued for
their alleged involvement in these heinous crimes.
As the investigation unfolds, the public is left questioning the true nature of the events that
transpired and the motivations behind these alleged actions. Stay tuned to MTV News for further
updates on this developing story."
[6 YEARS LATER]
[camera focuses on news reporter standing outside the courthouse, with crowds of people and
media personnel in the background]
The courtroom buzzed with tension as the trial of Raymond Philemon Sapuka and Josephine
Salum Motoko unfolded at the ICC [ International. Helen Steven from MTV NEWS stood
outside the imposing ICC building, her voice laced with urgency, reporting live to the world.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Helen Steven from MTV NEWS,
broadcasting live. We are here live outside the ICC in Dane Country, where the trial of Raymond
Philemon Sapuka and Josephine Salum Motoko continues to captivate the world's attention. This
is undoubtedly the most significant legal showdown of the new millennium."
Cutting to footage of the courthouse's imposing facade, Helen's voice continued, "The accused
Raymond Philemon Sapuka and Josephine Salum Motoko stand accused of leading an
International Criminal Organization, orchestrating mass murders, drug dealing, human
trafficking, and being involved in a range of serious criminal activities."
Clips of supporters holding banners and signs filled the screen. Helen's enthusiasm was palpable
as she described the atmosphere, "The atmosphere here is electric, with supporters of the
defendants showing unwavering solidarity. They believe that Raymond and Josephine are heroes
in a battle against a system they see as corrupt."
Security personnel surrounded the courthouse, their vigilant presence evident. Helen's voice took
a serious tone, "Security remains tight, with authorities taking no chances. The stakes are
incredibly high in this trial, and emotions are running even higher."
Images of the legal teams entering the courthouse were shown, and Helen's tone turned
determined, "Inside that courthouse, legal heavyweights are clashing as the prosecution presents
its case against the accused. The world is watching as the innocence of their clients."
The camera focused on Helen holding up a microphone, her gaze unwavering, "We'll continue to
bring you live updates on this historic trial as it unfolds. Stay tuned for more coverage on this

truly unprecedented legal drama. Reporting live from Dane Country, I’m Helen Steven, from
MTV NEWS, and this is a moment in history."
Cutting to the inside of the courtroom, Judge's voice boomed, "All rise. We are gathered here
today to address the grave charges brought against Raymond Philemon and Josephine Salum.
Mr. Philemon, you have been accused by the United States of Dane for leading an International
criminal organization known as BMO and the murder of 287 people. Ms. Salum, you are also
charged with the same offenses. How do you both plead?"
Raymond Philemon, his voice heavy with emotion, stated, "Your Honor, I plead not guilty to all
charges."
Josephine Salum, her voice nervous yet resolute, echoed, "Your Honor, I also plead not guilty to
all charges."
The judge continued, "Very well. Let the record show that both defendants have entered not
guilty pleas. Mr. Philemon and Ms. Salum, you each have the right to legal representation. Do
you have attorneys present?"
Raymond's Lawyer stood, announcing, "Yes, your Honor, I am representing Mr. Philemon. My
name is David Abas."
Josephine’s lawyer, equally poised, stated, "Your Honor, I am representing Ms. Salum. My name
is Vivian Turner.
"The courtroom drama unfolded as the prosecution presented its case, with Agent Raynolds from
NIA taking the stand, detailing the extensive evidence against the defendants. The defense
attorneys cross-examined, questioning the validity of the evidence and attempting to challenge
the charges levied against their clients.

The tension in the courtroom was palpable as the trial continued, and the fate of Raymond
Philemon Sapuka and Josephine Salum Motoko hung in the balance, awaiting justice in this
unprecedented legal battle.
Raymond's Lawyer, his voice firm and assertive, pressed on, "Agent Raynolds, are you certain
that all the evidence you’ve collected directly implicates my client Mr. Philemon in these
crimes?"
Agent Raynolds, his confidence unwavering, replied, "Yes, Mr. Abas. We have substantial
evidence linking Mr. Philemon to the organization's leadership and the planning of these crimes."
Josephine’s lawyer, keen on defending his client, challenged, "Detective Raynolds, can you
provide concrete evidence that my client, Ms. Salum, was directly involved in these murders?"
Agent Raynolds calmly explained, "Ms. Turner, while the evidence against Ms. Salum is
circumstantial, it points to her significant involvement in BMO’s operations, which includes the
crimes in question."
The judge, addressing the court, added solemnly, "In addition to the charges previously
mentioned, the prosecution has also levied additional charges against Raymond Philemon and
Josephine Salum. These charges include gun possession, engagement in terroristic activities,
conspiracy towards Nance Williams' disappearance, involvement in drug dealing, mineral theft,
economic sabotage, and human trafficking."
Raymond’s lawyer promptly raised an objection, stating, "Your Honor, these additional charges
seem excessive and unrelated to the original accusations."
Josephine's Lawyer agreed, saying, "I concur with Mr. Abas, Your Honor. These new charges
appear to be an attempt to unfairly prejudice the jury."

The judge considered the objection carefully, addressing the counselors, "Understanding your
concerns, Counselors. The court will review these additional charges for relevance and validity.
We’ll proceed with the trial on the original charges, and a decision regarding the additional
charges will be made in due course."
He continued, his voice firm and decisive, "Before we adjourn for the day, it is important to note
that due to the gravity of the charges and the nature of the accusations against the defendants,
Raymond Philemon and Josephine Salum, they will remain in the custody of government
authorities until further notice. This decision is made to ensure the safety of all parties involved
and to prevent any interference with the ongoing legal proceedings. The court proceedings will
resume next week Tuesday, 14th April 2009, and both defendants will be held in government
custody during this time. Court is adjourned for today.
The trial of Raymond Philemon and Josephine Salum is nothing short of a global sensation,
marking it as one of the most significant cases of the new millennium. The accusations of the
leading an international criminal organization, orchestrating mass murders, and engaging in a
wide range of criminal activities has captured the attention of people all over the world. Media
outlets from every corner of the globe followed the case closely and live case follow up were
broadcasted, with headlines splashed across newspapers and constant updates on Television and
the internet.
In Dane country, where the trial is taking place, the population flocks to the ICC like never
before. The courthouse becomes a hub of anticipation and intrigue, with supporters of Raymond
and Josephine fervently hoping for their release. To them, the defendants are heroes, symbols of
defiance against the establishment. They believe that the accusations were part of a conspiracy,

and their unwavering support painted a stark contrast to the vehement opposition from the other
side of the coin.
Raymond Philemon’s life had taken an unexpected turn. He had started his journey as a medical
student, dreaming of a career dedicated to saving lives and healing the sick. However, as
circumstances would have it, he found himself drawn into a world far removed from his initial
aspirations. The unraveling of the trial and its intricate web of criminal activities had transformed
him from a medical student into a witness to one of the most complex and high-profile legal
battles in recent memory. His life had taken a path he could never have foreseen, and it was now
intricately intertwined with the unfolding drama of the courtroom.
Raymond's voice trembled with worry as he spoke, "Our fate seems to have betrayed us,
Josephine."
Josephine, her tone laced with equal concern, responded, "And it is leading us to the scary, ever
wished destiny. But we'll win this." Her determination cut through the uncertainty, a flicker of
hope in the face of impending darkness.
In a chilling turn of events, the mysterious woman infiltrated the heart of power at the Ministry
of Defense. With calculated precision, she bypassed security measures and entered the Minister's
office, her footsteps echoing ominously in the corridor. Her eyes were cold, her movements
deliberate as she eliminated anyone in her path.
With a silent, deadly efficiency, she silenced the Minister's secretary, ensuring no witnesses were
left behind. Her focus then shifted to the computer, where she initiated a covert program, a
digital thread connecting her to a network of individuals scattered across the Dane country.

With a single press, a ripple effect was set into motion. Phones buzzed and chimed in various
locations, echoing the call of the woman. Those who received the call, their faces etched with
recognition, heard only two words that sent shivers down their spines: "It's time."
TO BE CONTINUED; PLEASE WAIT FOR VOLUME II

Volume 1. The Crushed Destiny

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Volume 1. The Crushed Destiny

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FRANK MASHINA- THE CRUSHED DESTINY

Frank Mashina © 2023

Frank Mashina © 2023

COPYRIGHT © 2023 BY FRANK MASHINA

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. NO PART OF THIS BOOK MAYBE REPRODUCED IN ANY

Frank Mashina © 2023

[CHAPTER 1] – UNSPEAKABLE NIGHT .................................................................................. 7

[CHAPTER 2] – THE TRUTH THAT I DIDN’T KNOW .......................................................... 39

[CHAPTER 3]- AWAITED DREAM .......................................................................................... 93

[ CHAPTER 4] - CHOICES ....................................................................................................... 134

[CHAPTER 5]- I’AM GOING TO MAKE IT ........................................................................... 157

[CHAPTER 6]- THE PROMISED DAYS ................................................................................. 177

[CHAPTER 7]- I WISH I KNEW .............................................................................................. 213

[CHAPTER 8]- THIS IS IT ........................................................................................................ 238

[CHAPTER 9] - THE LOST CITY ............................................................................................ 263

[CHAPTER 10]- CONSEQUENCES ......................................................................................... 276

Frank Mashina © 2023

flicker of hope, guiding us toward the light.

With deepest gratitude,

FRANK PETER MASHINA

Frank Mashina © 2023

65001, Upanga street, ilala

Frank Mashina © 2023

[CHAPTER 1] – UNSPEAKABLE NIGHT

media personnel in the background]

is undoubtedly the most significant legal showdown of the new millennium."

International Criminal Organization, orchestrating mass murders, drug dealing, human

trafficking, and being involved in a range of serious criminal activities."

in a battle against a system they see as corrupt."

Frank Mashina © 2023

MTV NEWS, and this is a moment in history."

charged with the same offenses. How do you both plead?"

you have attorneys present?"

name is David Abas."

Frank Mashina © 2023

the charges levied against their clients.

unprecedented legal battle.

Frank Mashina © 2023

economic sabotage, and human trafficking."

seem excessive and unrelated to the original accusations."

appear to be an attempt to unfairly prejudice the jury."

charges will be made in due course."

custody during this time. Court is adjourned for today.

leading an international criminal organization, orchestrating mass murders, and engaging in a

Frank Mashina © 2023

side of the coin.

intricately intertwined with the unfolding drama of the courtroom.

hope in the face of impending darkness.

[Uneasy Music playing at the background]

Frank Mashina © 2023

[SIX YEARS BACK]

content and harmonious family.

from his unusual routine.

Frank Mashina © 2023

[Hello world music playing, by Alan Walker ft Torine]

Frank Mashina © 2023

[Jealous Song by Labrinth playing at the background]

where success was the only option.

Frank Mashina © 2023

and make a profound impact on the world.

Frank Mashina © 2023

Frank Mashina © 2023

complexities of human emotions and the sometimes-fickle nature of public opinion.