In the chaos, Kabelo saw Khumalo diving for cover inside, narrowly avoiding the sweeping gunfire. The entire lodge was being torn apart.
"We need to move, now!" Kabelo coughed, inhaling dust. He tapped the mic at his throat, unsure if it still worked after the blasting noise. "We can't stay here."
Khumalo crawled over, blood trickling from a cut on his forehead. "We won't make it to the truck under that chopper."
Kabelo's eyes fell on Mabaso. The colonel met his gaze with grim acceptance. "Shadow, you and Khumalo get out. Portal out of here."
"No!" Kabelo snapped. "We're all going." He refused to sacrifice the man who had saved him.
Kabelo's mind raced. The chopper was circling for another pass. The remaining mercenaries on foot were closing in, emboldened by the gunship's onslaught.
He had one more portal trick up his sleeve.
"Khumalo, be ready to run on my signal," Kabelo said, breathing hard.
He focused on the helicopter itself, calculating. Teleporting something that large or into it was beyond him — he'd never tried moving an object that big. But maybe he could interfere just enough...
As the helicopter swooped in again, Kabelo forced open a portal directly in its flight path, a shimmering gate of distortion at treetop level. The pilot, startled, yanked the stick. The chopper veered sharply to avoid the strange glowing rift, buying a few precious seconds as it pulled up to regain balance.
Now.
"Go Phantom!" Kabelo shouted — the code word they'd jokingly adopted for him to commence teleportation maneuvers.
In one motion, he slung Mabaso's arm over his shoulder and dragged the colonel through a portal he opened at the back of the half-demolished room. The portal spat them out behind a clump of acacia bushes 100 meters away – the furthest Kabelo had ever jumped with another person in tow.
Kabelo staggered from the effort but stayed upright. Khumalo came right behind, having dashed through as soon as he saw them vanish.
They weren't safe yet, but they were out of the immediate killzone.
The mercenaries shouted in confusion at the lodge, finding it empty. One fired wildly into the bush.
Supporting Mabaso between them, Kabelo and Khumalo half-carried, half-dragged the colonel further into the thorny brush. The helicopter was swinging around for a third pass, its searchlight cutting across the grass.
They needed to eliminate that threat or they'd never escape alive.
Khumalo gently lowered Mabaso to the ground behind a termite mound. The colonel was fading, blood soaking his pant leg. Kabelo pressed a spare bandage to Mabaso's thigh wound. "Hold on, sir."
Mabaso gripped Kabelo's arm weakly. "Take them... out," he wheezed.
Khumalo checked his rifle — only a few rounds left. "I've got maybe one good shot."
Kabelo clenched his jaw. "Make it count."
He knelt and opened a portal just above their position — an eyehole vantage from which he could see the chopper as it leveled out for another strafe. "Wind east, slight," he told Khumalo quickly, feeding him the coordinates through the portal as if it were a sniper scope.
Khumalo nodded, steeling himself. He propped his rifle on a rock and peered through the portal at the approaching helicopter.
The helicopter bore down, muzzle flashes flickering as the door gunner opened up on the empty lodge again, tearing it apart.
Kabelo exhaled. "Steady..."
Khumalo squeezed the trigger. The rifle kicked. Through the portal, Kabelo saw sparks fly from the helicopter's cockpit — Khumalo's armor-piercing round punched straight through the canopy.
The chopper lurched violently and spiraled, trailing smoke. With a thunderous crash, it plowed into the ground not far from the lodge, erupting into a fireball.
A ragged cheer escaped Kabelo. One massive threat down.
The surviving mercenaries panicked at the loss of their air support. Two fled into the bush. Another hesitated near the burning wreck, then tossed his rifle and raised his hands in surrender toward the distant sound of approaching sirens — Botswana security forces alerted by the firefight.
But it wasn't over yet. A lone figure emerged from the direction of the wreckage, limping but upright. Even at a distance, Kabelo recognized the broad-shouldered frame and the glint of a sidearm in hand — Colonel Janus Steyn, battered but unyielding, coming for them like a specter through smoke.
Kabelo felt a surge of anger and resolve. This needed to end.
He gently eased Mabaso into Khumalo's arms. "Stay with him."
Before Khumalo could protest, Kabelo stepped through the portal onto the open ground between them and Steyn.
They faced each other across a stretch of scorched grass lit by the helicopter's flaming wreck. Steyn's face was cut and soot-streaked, his left arm hanging oddly — likely dislocated from the crash — but he still clutched a pistol in his right.
"Kabelo Ndlovu," Steyn called out hoarsely, his voice cutting through the crackle of the fire. "The infamous Shadow." He spat a glob of blood. "You think you've won? You think anything changes now?" He gestured vaguely toward the distant sirens. "Those government snakes will bury this whole affair. Men like me... we'll be back."
Kabelo raised his own pistol, training it on the man who had haunted his nightmares. "Not you," he said quietly. "This ends here."
Steyn barked a laugh and suddenly raised his weapon. Kabelo was faster — two shots rang out as one.
Steyn's first bullet whizzed past Kabelo's ear. Kabelo's rounds struck Steyn center mass. The mercenary colonel staggered back, shock on his face as his pistol slipped from his fingers. He dropped to his knees.
For a moment, Kabelo simply watched, gun still aimed. Steyn opened his mouth as if to speak, but only a red froth came out. Then he fell forward, collapsing onto the bloodied earth.
It was finally over.
Kabelo inhaled a shuddering breath. His hands trembled slightly as he lowered the gun. The distant police sirens were drawing closer; lights began flashing through the trees.
Behind him, Khumalo helped Mabaso limp forward. The colonel was conscious, relief and sorrow in his eyes as he saw Steyn on the ground.
Kabelo turned to them, exhaustion overtaking his features. Khumalo managed a grin. "Hell of a shot, Shadow."
Kabelo didn't respond immediately. He approached Steyn's body, nudging the pistol away with his foot and verifying no pulse. Colonel Janus Steyn — the hound of Prometheus — was dead.
Satisfied, he returned to his comrades.
Mabaso reached out and clasped Kabelo's hand firmly. "Well done, son," he rasped.
Kabelo shook his head humbly. "Couldn't have done any of this without both of you."
They slowly walked away from the carnage, toward the line of Botswana Defense Force vehicles arriving on scene. By now, word of their innocence and heroism was spreading. They would be safe here.
As medics rushed to help Mabaso and Khumalo, Kabelo took one last look at the burning remnants of the helicopter and the dark shape of Steyn's body against the flames.
The hunt was over.
Project Prometheus had been dragged into the light and extinguished. And Kabelo "Shadow" Ndlovu — the phantom sniper — could finally step out of the shadows, knowing he had fulfilled his vow to make those responsible regret ever underestimating him.