Chapter 1 — Gaborone, Central Business District, 7PM
Thabiso looked at the men lying on the ground, hesitation flickering across his face for only a moment. If one looked closely, they'd notice most of the bodies had eyes devoid of life. A few limbs twisted in unnatural angles. Scattered around them were multiple firearms — yet Thabiso held only a knife.
"They betrayed me first," he thought coldly, a steely resolve hardening his features. "Come hell or high water, I won't bow to their pressure. I won't hand them my life."
With the precision of someone who had repeated this ritual many times before, he began moving the bodies, one by one, dragging them toward a wide drainage system nearby — one the government installed after the last one failed due to climate disasters.
When the last body was dumped, Thabiso casually wiped his hands and walked toward the taxi rank, blending into the city evening like nothing had happened. He had rented a small flat in Tlokweng — close enough to the city to be convenient, far enough to avoid the constant bustle.
As the taxi rumbled down the dusty road, Thabiso leaned his head back, lost in thought — memories drifting in like smoke from a burning past.
Not long ago, he had been part of the Organisation.
It didn't matter if you were a politician, a singer, an actor — even a president. There was one thing all powerful people feared: being hunted by the Vanta Division.
The Organisation, known as Vanta, was terrifyingly powerful. Their reach spanned nearly every country on Earth. A shadow hidden inside a larger shadow, their existence was more rumor than reality. There was no official proof they existed — but those who mattered believed.
Their methods were strange. It was said Vanta found the client, not the other way around. Only those deemed "worthy" could hire them. Sometimes a nobody off the street could commission Vanta, while a president might live and die without ever knowing they existed.
Despite being only twenty years old, the Organisation had a 100% success rate — no failed missions, no leaks, no survivors. In just two decades, they became one of the most feared and respected organisations in the world.
Thabiso Molefe knew more than most.
His codename: Dark Echo.
He wasn't the assassin with the highest body count — but his missions were the hardest. He took down a North African dictator guarded by twenty thousand troops. He assassinated a U.S. Secretary of State just steps from the Pentagon. His most infamous mission? Infiltrating a Russian nuclear base, eliminating a force of two hundred, and walking out with the launch codes — leaving only corpses in his wake.
Vanta had found him at thirteen — a newly orphaned child with no relatives and no future. They raised him, trained him, weaponized him. In return, they promised him freedom at twenty-five.
And he delivered.
But they didn't.
Three months ago, Thabiso turned twenty-five. Instead of freedom, they sent a missile to his Milan safe house. He barely survived.
That was the day his war with Vanta began.