It had been more than thirty minutes since Tejumole entered the vehicle. It seemed they were taking her pretty far.
"How far is this place?" Ranta asked, curiosity and boredom overwhelming him. Today he was a furry, albino scorpion resting on Tejumole's shoulder. His stinger twitched in the air, swishing side to side in impatience.
Tejumole gave no reply, but her furrowed brows showed her annoyance. Turning her head slightly, she observed the two people who had sandwiched her in the middle of the backseat. There were two more in the front. Specifically, at the driver and passenger seats.
Her abductors appeared rather relaxed. To them, this was already a successful mission. They were convinced of her helplessness. After all, how could a small, skinny woman like the professor fight off four grown men?
"Hmm." Tejumole could hardly tolerate being surrounded by strangers. Curbing her displeasure for the sake of the mission, she looked out the windscreen and noticed the change in terrain.
The car had previously been travelling along a busy, smooth, asphalt road. Now however, they were moving over untarred ground with more vegetation in the surroundings. There were trees and home-grown crops such as corn, cassava, and various fruit trees in the compounds of the houses they passed.
Tejumole found this place to be more homely than the city. At the very least, the air was cleaner.
As they moved, the vehicles they encountered dwindled in number until theirs was the only car on the road. Even the small houses she saw littered along the way began to vanish.
The few structures still standing were from a different generation. She even spotted one made with mud in an overgrown compound. It was small and had no roof. Instead of a house it had most likely served as a kitchen or bathroom in the past. Clearly, it was abandoned and uninhabitable.
"We seem to be nearing Ibadan." She noted silently.
After what felt like another thirty minutes, the car came to a halt in front of a fenced bungalow. It was lavishly designed with artificial and real plants meticulously placed everywhere.
"Get down."
After passing through the gate, Jubril barked at Tejumole to alight and follow them into the building.
Entering the building, Tejumole passed through a curtain of clattering beads and stepped into a parlour with an unwelcoming air. Ranta had already returned to the system space.
Aside from the four men she had arrived with, ten others were stationed in different corners of the room. And though the parlour was wide, with this many people packed inside, the space felt crowded.
"Welcome. I have heard a lot about you. Please, have a seat."
Seated at the centre position was a man with a sophisticated Northern accent. He sounded well-read, but one of his most striking features was his hair. It was long with gentle curls that cascaded down to his mid-back. He cut a handsome, lean figure, though most would likely wince in pity at the rough scar extending from the corner of his left lip to just beneath his ear.
He gestured toward an empty seat in front of him. As Tejumole sat, she realized that while there was a small distance between them, they were flanked on all sides. The men were positioned so tightly it would be impossible for anyone to slip past.
"Professor Tejumole. I am pleased to finally make your acquaintance. My name is Nuhu Yalwa. Call me Nuhu."
"In a different scenario, I might have felt the same," she replied, watching him closely.
"However, given the current situation, I can't say meeting my captor is something to be pleased with."
Nuhu wore an ever-present smile that made him look almost amicable. To anyone else, it might have been charming. But Tejumole found it a practiced, hollow mask with no real feeling behind it.
"Indeed. Our first meeting is quite the unfortunate one, but we had to meet somehow." Nuhu leaned back against the headrest, surveying her.
She looked like any other woman he had met. Maybe more attractive than most, with striking light brown eyes that seemed to hold a world of secrets. What truly piqued his interest, however, was her perpetual calm while surrounded by rugged men in a strange location.
After hearing Jubril's report, Nuhu had been curious to see who was daring enough to cross the Red Scorpions. Now that she was in front of him, he was surprised. She didn't look like the fierce, raging woman Jubril had described.
Yet, he wasn't fooled by her harmless appearance. She was watching him with an intense gaze, as if dissecting him.
"Why have you brought me all this way?" Tejumole asked.
"It can't be just to exchange pleasantries. I am a busy person, and by the looks of it, so are you."
Indeed, Tejumole had no reason to fear. She had the system. And though she was limited by a certain degree when dealing with people outside the missions, she still had her own strength.
From inside the system space, Ranta said something that caused her to smile. The compass was glowing a mid shade of gold.
Compared to the dull, flickering light it had emitted at the scene of Anderson Peters' murder, this was more vibrant.
It was proof that she hadn't come here for naught. Nuhu Yalwa or something in his possession was a direct link to the mission concerning the prostitution ring. The connection was much stronger.
"You aren't what I expected, Professor." Nuhu said, leaning forward. His voice was smooth, devoid of the harsh threat common in men like Jubril.
He didn't seem particularly bothered by whatever happened with Jubril. Instead, he seemed genuinely intrigued.
"Most people in your position would be bargaining for their lives. Or weeping. Bawling their eyes out. Yet here you are grading me."
"Is that a crime?" Tejumole asked, reclining lazily.
"In this room? Perhaps." Nuhu chuckled. He began to ask her questions. He asked her about her life at the university, her views on the city, the nature of her work...
"In the tragedies you teach, is it the protagonist's strength that fails them, or their inability to see the world as it truly is?"
"Usually, they fail because they think everyone is a character in their own play and will follow their script."
"Most people hate the villain because they're told to. But, Professor, don't you find that the villain is usually just the most honest about their desires?"
"Honesty doesn't excuse a lack of imagination. Most villains are quite boring. They want the same things. Money, power, or revenge. There's nothing honest about a cliché. The truly interesting people don't need a label at all. You're either selfish or not."
Nuhu's questions seemed simple, but each one was a trap. Tejumole didn't just give the "wrong" answers. She was dismissive and blunt, rejecting the very point of his questions. This left him with a conversation that was out of his control from start to finish.
In the corners of the room, the ten guards shifted uncomfortably. They couldn't understand. They were used to screams and begging, not...this.
Even Jubril, standing stiffly by the door, looked increasingly agitated by the second. To him, this "talk" was a waste of time.
Eventually, with Tejumole's constant deflections, the air in the room cooled. Nuhu's smile didn't vanish, but it sharpened.
"As much as I enjoy conversing with you, Professor, we must address the reality of your situation." Nuhu said, his tone heavier.
"You humiliated one of my men, and in doing so you have slighted me. I don't take kindly to disrespect. That's why you are here, trapped in a room with men who don't share my... elegant disposition."
Tejumole remained silent, her hands resting calmly on her lap.
"I am not a barbaric man." Nuhu continued, gesturing to himself.
"I value talent. So, I propose a solution. Swear allegiance to the Red Scorpions. Your intellect and standing could be quite useful to us. In addition, it would be a welcome change from my current ilk. You will find that we are much better as friends than as enemies."
"No." Tejumole said. The word was flat, final, and lacked even a hint of hesitation. Regardless of his amiable facade, a man who led a cult group such as this was no saint.
Her refusal was the spark Jubril had been waiting for. Unable to contain his frustration any longer and seeing that what he had expected wasn't happening, he lunged forward.
"How dare you be so arrogant!" Jubril roared, his hand whistling through the air in a heavy, open-palmed slap.
It was impossible for his attack to land.
With a speed that defied her slender frame, Tejumole's hand shot up. She caught Jubril's wrist mid-air, the sound of the impact like a whip cracking. Before anyone could blink, she twisted his arm and dragged him to the ground.
Thud.
Jubril hit the floor face-first with a painful groan.
Tejumole remained seated, her expression unchanged, but her leg was now extended, and her foot was pinned firmly onto the back of Jubril's head, grinding him into the rug.
He was completely immobile and the curses he spat were muffled in the rug.
The room fell into a deafening, shocked silence. The men froze, their hands hovering over their weapons. Their eyes were wide as they struggled to process how such a skinny woman had moved so fast.
Tejumole looked directly at Nuhu. His smile hadn't vanished but had widened instead.
"I didn't come here because I was caught, Nuhu." Tejumole said, her voice cutting through the silence.
"I came for you. You have something I want."
Nuhu remained unflinched. He didn't even look at the man pinned under her foot. He simply nodded to the men in the corners.
"Take her." He ordered softly.
The men moved at once. The parlour was wide enough for movement but crowded enough that not all could rush her at once.
Tejumole released Jubril, spinning out of her chair as the first two men reached her while the others brought out their guns.