Follow the Nivenger Story By The First Book, Click The Link The Nivenger (Retribution) – Episode 1,
Click here to read the previous Episodes: The Nivenger (Retribution) – Episode 1, The Nivenger (Retribution) – Episode 2, The Nivenger (Retribution) – Episode 3, The Nivenger (Retribution) – Episode 4
My name is Alex Rolland. When I was a toddler, I watched my parents get murdered by a man in a hood. I was then kidnapped and smuggled to the USSR, where I was made into someone else … into something else. Now I am back to Nigeria to avenge all those who have suffered, like me, at the hands of cruel, corrupt politicians. I am … The Nivenger!
It’s been two nights since Alex had infiltrated the terrorists’ camp, and since then he had not assassinated Al-Hassid as per his instructions. Aside from the fact that Al-Hassid was scarce, and aside from the fact that most people were wary of him, Alex wondered if he shouldn’t hold off on executing his mission so he could obtain valuable intel about the terrorist cell’s proposed attack on Mother Russia.
Over the years, Alex had grown to see Russia as his homeland. He was being trained by the Institute to be an agent for the cause of Russia, to see Russia’s aims furthered all across the world. Even though his birth country was Nigeria, he still owed allegiance to Russia. As such, he was concerned when Al-Hassid had informed him that the cell was planning an attack on Russia.
Alex knew this was an exam. The question was, what were the tests? Did the Institute know about an imminent attack on Russia? Were they testing his loyalty to Russia? If he went ahead to kill Al-Hassid without at least finding out what they had planned and trying to stop it, would they accuse him of being unfaithful to Mother Russia?
Alex cringed as he considered that accusation. Students who have been accused with such accusation never ever made it out alive. They always ended up being found guilty and killed by ten of their colleges in a battle to the death. Alex had to tread carefully so his allegiance would remain beyond reproach.
But it was getting harder and harder to keep up his façade. The people around him were suspicious of him. He always heard their whispers as he made his rounds through the camp, doing a private, personal reconnaissance. Especially the people at gate. In fact, Alex had caught wind of a plan to send someone to his alleged hometown (he had told them he lived in one of the small settlements on the Russia-Siberia border), to ascertain if, indeed, he hailed from there. Alex was sure they hadn’t made good on their plans; but he also knew that if they did, he would be killed on the spot. He was in a precarious position, which was getting more dangerous as the time ticked away.
Alex could have assassinated Al-Hassid in the past two days. He knew where the man slept. He knew where he worked. He had mapped out the man’s daily routine. Nevertheless, he was still shackled by the fear of being branded a traitor to Russia, and in this fear he had held back his hand.
Today was the third day since his incursion. It was noonday, and the sun was at its peak. But you wouldn’t have known because of the bleak clouds and the dawn like state of the heavens. The camp still filled with cool air, and he still had to wear heavy clothing to remain warm. Alex sat on his bed, and anticipated nightfall. He anticipated nightfall for one purpose: Jasmine. This was the name of the woman that belonged to him, Jasmine. Every high ranking officer had a woman to fulfil their $3xual need. Alex had not only inherited Hassan’s position by killing him, he had also inherited Jasmine, Hassan’s whore. Every night, the woman would come into his room and yield her body to him. The first night, Al Hassid had summoned him for a meeting. The last two nights, Alex had fought with the strange urge within him, and on both occasions, even though the lady lay on the bed beckoning him to lay with her, he had found the strength to refuse, often running out of the room half naked to endure the savage onslaught of erotic desire. However, this morning he had had a long discussion with himself and he had arrived at the conclusion that he wasn’t betraying his mission to lay with the woman. In fact, not sleeping with her may look suspicious, for what man in his right mind would not jump at the opportunity of laying with the Jasmine, whose hips and chests were as ample as the day of harvest.
Alex took in a deep breath as he sat on his bed, playing with his hands. He had never been this nervous of anything in his life. In fact, he realized it was a less daunting task to slit Al-Hassid’s throat than it was to lay with Jasmine. Would he be good? Would he be capable? How long would he last? Should he even do it? Was it morally right?
Once Alex noticed the doubt creeping into his mind, he shot to his feet and began to pace, shaking his head thoroughly so he didn’t renege on his plans to yield to desire this night. It was in this mental and heart wrenching emotional struggle that Al-Hassid walked into his room.
Alex snapped to his full height and every trace of nervousness fled from his stature.
“I’m here to give you a download on our plans,” Al-Hassid said. He stood just inside Alex’s tent, with two hefty looking men—bodyguards—standing outside the tent.
Alex shot a wary glance to them, causing Al-Hassid to look over his shoulders. Then he said, “Leave us be!”
The two men replied, “Yes, leader,” and they walked away, leaving Alex alone with his query.
For a moment, Alex was tempted to lunge for the man and strangle him to death. He was so small, so insignificant, and so weak in his sight that it wouldn’t take Alex more than thirty seconds to snuff out the life out of him.
“What’s wrong?” asked Al-Hassid. “You have that look on your face like you want to strangle me.” He said that with such nonchalance that Alex was surprised. If he even thought that Alex wanted to strangle him and wasn’t moved, then just what was he capable of?
Alex held back his desire and said, “Nothing. I’m just so angry with the capitalist government and the corruption of the west in Russia. I wish we could go right now and destroy Moscow.”
Al-Hassid smiled, impressed, and walked around the edges of the tent, looking at portraits of Hassan and his wife and two kids. Alex had been told that it was because Hassan’s family died in an American drone bombing in Afghanistan that he had turned from being a loyal sergeant in the Russian army to being a brutal jihadist warrior. When Alex had asked why Hassan had turned on Russia, when it was American drones which had killed his family, he was told that the Russians had been implicit in the death of his family when they allowed the US drones fly through their border on their way to Afghanistan.
Now, Alex had killed Hassan. Alex left the portraits in their positions in the tent to remind him of the life he had taken, and how that at least the man was now with his family, wherever he was. His jihad struggles were finally over.
“I’m surprised you haven’t removed these pictures,” Al-Hassid said, stopping at one that showed Hassan kissing his wife at the center of Red Square in Moscow. “Are you guilty for killing Hassan?”
Alex replied, “I don’t think he deserved to die. I think we need all the hands we can get. But if he was the person standing in the way of me and my revenge, then it wasn’t a question.”
Al-Hassid looked at Alex for a brief moment, surprise fleeting across his eyes. “You sound very educated. Most of the teenagers that come to this settlement looking for revenge can barely make a sentence in English. But you … no, you speak English with the grace and class of an American born.”
Alex hesitated. Was this a question or an accusation? He withheld his tongue, even as Al-Hassid arched his eyebrows, waiting for an answer.
After a moment, Al-Hassid said, “What do you have to say?”
“I did not know you came here to interrogate me, leader,” Alex said, sounding defiant. It would be foolish to try to defend himself without rebuffing the accusation first. Only one who was truly guilty would immediately try to allay suspicions without refuting the basis of the suspicions in the first place.
Al-Hassid smiled and walked on. “You misunderstand me, soldier. I am not interrogating you. I am merely seeking to understand you.”
Alex sighed and said, “I was born and raised in Michigan, United States, where I saw the decadence and corruption of Russia, my home country. Then, when I was thirteen I started training myself. I traveled back to my home two years ago, where I have sought for like minds. It wasn’t until two weeks ago after the incident with the bombers that I knew I wanted to fight with your group. My uncle told me your location, and I made my way here.”
The man nodded. “I must meet this uncle of yours, for bringing me such a brilliant and powerful man my way.”
Alex nodded back, hiding the panic in his heart. He hoped Al-Hassid wouldn’t probe further. As it was, he was walking on a tightrope. The slightest shrewd questioning will reveal holes in the lies he had just told Al-Hassid.
Al-Hassid stopped perusing the pictures and came to stand before Alex. He said in a soft voice, “Some days from now, the president will be attending a ball in a discrete location in Moscow. All his army generals and all the members of the Politburo will be present. Our plan is to bomb the location, killing off Russia’s leadership in one swoop.”
Al-Hassid stopped and watched Alex carefully for his reaction.
Alex remained silent for a moment, trying his best to keep his breath from rising or his heart from throbbing too hard. He waited for a full minute before he gave a curt nod.
“I will need your full cooperation on this,” said Al-Hassid. “I have spoken to all my commanders and they have sworn loyalty to my plan. You are left.”
Alex drew a breath and said, “When do we start?”
Al-Hassid smiled. “Follow me.” And he walked out of the tent.
Before Alex followed him, he made a solemn oath that he would never let this terrorist group carry out their plan. He would follow them to Russia and he would stop them before they detonated the bomb. And then maybe, just maybe, he would escape from there and find his way back to Nigeria.
Alex looked back on his bed and instantly knew he would not be seeing Jasmine this night. Maybe tomorrow night, he thought to himself as he walked out into the open.
The Nivenger will return in the next update.
Beware, O ye corrupt leaders, for the Nivenger is coming for you!