Prologue:
The Toyota HiAce H200 model came to a screeching halt in front of the incomplete two-story building. Its passengers, five in number apart from the driver -all dressed in military uniforms- alighted from the vehicle in quick succession and quickly separated into two groups.
"Alpha team secures the building from the north, Bravo team from the back," said the team leader as they quickly moved into two groups of three. "We have gone across the mission objectives over at debrief, there's no room for misplay. Vector, you lead the Bravo team. Move out."
The two groups moved with great efficiency, the Bravo team ahead of Alpha.
As the Alpha team reached the front door they spread with a man flanking the team leader in the middle.
"Bravo in position," the voice over the comms said.
"Right on cue," replied the Alpha team leader. "On three…two…one."
The man on the right gently pushed the door open while the team leader sprinted in, weapon raised. The other two joined quickly after.
"Clear," the men said one after the other.
"Alpha, this is Bravo. I got movement upstairs. East side."
They exchanged glances with each other before rushing to the location given.
"Bravo team engaging."
"Do not engage! This is Zero, do you copy?" another voice interrupted. "I repeat, do not engage!"
"Zero?" the team leader called, nothing.
‹Static>
"Sh*t..." one of the men started to say before they all heard it. A slow buzzing sound.
At first they all thought it was the rats. The team leader followed the noise to one of the rooms.
"It's a f*cking bomb, move!"
But it was too late.
The driver, who sat in the car impatiently waiting, saw a flash of blue blue light envelop the whole of the second floor before immediately changing into a huge explosion. The same thing soon happened in the second floor. As soon as he saw the blue flash, he quickly made to start the car but the vehicle simply groaned and lurched forward by a few inches. The whole area was soon consumed by blazes of fire, merely fed by the fuel of the burnt van.
Debris decended the atmosphere of the night like ashes of burnt paper.

Hey guys. It's my first attempt at a story online. Forgive my grammar, criticism to welcome. But I assure you that the story is 100% mine. And I don't believe in religious and/or cultural differences and it would be reflected in my work. Updates depend on how well the story sits with the readers.

Chapter 1:
*Seven Years Later
"Hey, mate. How is the army treating you?" he said over the bluetooth device in his ear as he typed in commands on the computer.
"Like hell, bro, like hell," the voice replied. "What are you doing, awake at this hour?"
"Same thing you are doing."
"What do you think I'm doing?"
"I don't know, studying?"
"I'm on midnight f*cking shift, in the cold!" the voice exclaimed.
"Well, I'm working on some projects to submit early tomorrow morning."
"Ah, Jamal. The university thing isn't really your thing. There's space for you here, you know," the voice said. When he heard no reply, he continued, "We could make use of your brains here. Quality brains are a rare gem."
"You know why I left, Kelvin. I couldn't stand the pressure," Jamal said flatly.
"Pressure," Kelvin scoffed. "Like I said before, you were just scared of not being able to live up to the standards your dad set when he was there."
"Well now he's dead. Was it all worth it?"
"Jamal, we grew up together. We're basically like brothers, I would always be there for you, mate."
"Cheers. Look who's getting all emotional," joked Jamal.
"Ha-ha, I'm serious, man."
"Hey, I gotta run. Projects and stuff."
"Go on, have at it then, schoolboy."
And the line went dead.
Jamal dropped the phone and sighed, leaning back on his chair and rubbing his eyes with both hands. After a few minutes he stood up and headed for the shower, but not before making a stop at the mirror to admire his five feet eight, athletic body which he got after passing through rigorous training at the preliminary military training program.
Jamal was the son of one of the brightest fighters and minds the Nigerian Army ever produced, Bashir Riyad. He set several standards during his time there and also improved the efficiency of the army. He died on a mission seven years ago. A mission he insisted on going to help stop a terrorist group. This made Jamal drop out of military school and despise it.
Jamal's mother divorced his father when he was just five, which left him to grow up with a military background and training. Now at twenty-two and in his second year in the university with only his uncle Faruk for support, Jamal strived to make a name for himself.
He didn't take long in the shower before coming out and heading downstairs. After his father's death, his uncle decided to move in to help ease the burden. But it was not easy as the uncle too was a military man before retiring and becoming a security consultant. Money was never an issue for Jamal.
As he reached the end of the stairs, he saw the sitting room lights on.

zhayyd039 pls use paragraph well.

Oh you are still awake?" his uncle's voice called as he worked on the laptop placed on the table in front of him.
"Just up to get some water," he replied, joining his uncle. "What are you working on?"
"Well a contract by a new employer, C.T Securities," the man replied, the screen reflecting off his glasses.
"As in City Securities?" Jamal asked.
"You can say it like that."
"Never heard of them."
"They are new around here. They are a private military company. High standards, elite squad. They could be a big plus to the country at large. Not to talk of the financial backing by government," his uncle explained.
"Financial backing?" Jamal pressed.
"Yeah, the government saw their neat projects and goals, and decided to have a say in it. In exchange C.T are allowed partial access to the military database. Fair enough, if you ask me."
Jamal stared at the computer screen as he processed the new information. He too agreed it was a fair deal.
They talked about the offer for hours before informing his uncle about school the next day.
"Then off you go to bed, son. Early to bed early to rise," his uncle said.
"Goodnight uncle."

Chapter 2:
The country has undergone some immense development," the President said over the live broadcast. "After so many years of being considered a 'developing country', we have reached the promised land, we are now developed." He took a sip from the glass of water in his hand and continued, "It wasn't easy. And we have to give thanks to our predecessors and heroes alike who gave it their all to ensure we reached here. We are now like a 'mini United States' as many put it. As a nation, we are proud."
"So what are the major improvements you as a person are proud of?" the interviewer asked.
"Well the decrease and increase in imports and exports respectively are the highlight of the day for me. We can give credit to previous presidents who worked day and night to ensure the maximum usage of oil and other natural resources, the drastic reduction in unemployment, technological improvements, you name it."
"Yes, I agree with you on that, Mr. President. But how do you plan on ending the crime rates, especially in the new city of Sanka?" she asked.
"We are working on it, actually. Given it shares border with us here in Abuja. But the new partnership with C.T Securities is an encouragement. They've vowed to help in that area," the president replied, matter-of-factly.

"Talking about that partnership, sir, doesn't it make the law enforcement agencies look a bit…incompetent?"
The president frowned at that question but remembered he was on live TV and quickly decided to answer.
"No, I don't think so. We lost many brave men over the years and the number of officers is a bit short at the moment. So admitedly we can do with all the help we can get. It also allows those private owners to have a say in the security of the nation. I can say it's a win-win and new investors are welcome, not just in security sector but in other parts of the economy as well."
The interviewer took a second to go through the papers in her hands before adding, "Lastly, sir, what would you like to say about the rumours on the federal government getting their hands on nuclear weapons in the coming years?"
"I have absolutely nothing to say about that as you've said it all, they are rumours," was the response.
"Thank you very much for your time, sir," the interviewer said, rising from her seat with the president and shaking hands.
"That was intense, but at least some good news. I'm just surprised there's no mention of the recent spike in crime rates," said Uncle Faruk after the news.
"Yeah," Jamal wondered, entering the sitting room from the kitchen with a cup of coffee in one hand and toast in the other.
"Aren't you late already? It's six a.m. Even the president is awake," his uncle asked, eyeing him suspiciously.
"Not really. I hate morning traffic," Jamal replied as he munched down the toast and loudly slurped the hot tea, for which his uncle gave him a look.
"What?" Jamal whined, revealing the contents in his mouth.
"Argh! Just get going already," his uncle fired, frustrated at his nephew's sudden lack of table manners.
Without a word, Jamal quickly took the plates to the kitchen and put them in the dish washer as he went upstairs to get his bag. The dishes were done in a minute and he was on his way out after bidding his uncle farewell.

********
Sanka University, SaSU, was in the list of the top 10 universities in the country and top 20 in Africa. As a developing city, the crime rates were higher than in other cities.
The university was built to compete with other well-established ones across the country and it didn't fall short on its promise and potential. But it needed a few tweaks to be among the very best, something it was not going to get in the nearest future.
The bus ride to the university was as boring as it has always been for Jamal. Unlike a lot of people, he didn't bother paying attention to music so he usually sat idly at the back of the bus waiting for minutes or at best a few minutes when the road was clear.
That day was a different story all together; the traffic was terrible due to the rain the previous night which made the roads slippery and the atmosphere humid. The traffic lights seemed slower as predicted in the news earlier due to a malfunction in the Street Electric Grid.
The nation was powered by mini but highly-powered electrical grids located nationwide. Some states or cities shared one while others didn't. Sanka City had one built for them. Each grid was subdivided into Streets, Homes, Security, and Public Buildings; a portion of it solely dedicated to powering each of those so as to control emergency power failure and ensure easy maintenance and repairs works. By that, when one portion fails, the others would not be affected. There was a fail-safe solar powered backup generator for the four subdivisions, which were barely used and much less powerful. There was a time when the government thought of removing them but it was voted against by the electrical engineers.
Jamal was already dozing off when he heard the rhythmic low humming of the bus grind to a halt.
"Sorry!" the bus attendant called from the front, near the driver. "Mechanical issues." The smartly-dressed young man said much to the protests of the passengers, as he opened the doors and stepped onto the highway, possibly to find another bus for his customers.
The once-quiet bus was soon filled with grumbles and chattering.
"Oh for Bleep sake!" Jamal cursed loudly, packing his belongings and heading for the exit.
"He'll soon be here, young man," he heard the middle-aged driver say to him.
"Sorry sir, but I'm running a bit late," he said. 'Damned late, my first day of resumption.' He thought.

oya come and continue I love action stories so much

*********
The Street section of the power grid was isolated away from the other three, located at the deeper part of the dam since it required less power than the rest.
The five engineers, all dressed in blue overalls, watched and took readings while the sixth emerged from the generator room.
"Some f*cker decided to add water to the diesel tank when the oil was low," he angrily said, glancing over his shoulder at the power room where the maintenance crew worked. His dark skin was drenched in diesel mixed with sweat. He replaced the spanner back into his pocket while simultaneously reaching for his handkerchief in the other pocket.
"Have you fixed it?" one of his colleagues asked, possibly their superior judging by his rotund physique and bossy behaviour.
"No, sir," the man said, "We'll need to replace the entire ICE."
"How long would it take?" the superior asked as he jotted some things down.
"Five hours tops. Plus getting a new one, that is."
"Make it three hours," the man retorted. "I won't tolerate slacking in my tenure. We have a city to run. How much are the costs?"
"Two-fifty."
"Good, I'll have it authorized in no time. You get to work," he said, turning around to leave with his crew closely following behind. Leaving the mechanic there.
"Damned old man," he said, lighting a cigarrete and leaning on the nearest obstacle. "Always with the f*cking orders."
He saw some people shouting and waving from the power room but he was too far away to hear them.
'What do you b*tches want with me now, have a problem with my cigar?' he thought, pissed off. That's when he realized. But it was too late.
The 500-liter diesel tank was placed a few metres away from the generator with dense concrete built around it for support and safety, with each subdivision having one. It was done to prevent explosions due to the immense heat released by the generators.
The explosion shook the whole dam and the areas surrounding it.
"Jesus Christ!" the fat boss yelled as he fell to the ground due to the force generated by the blast.
The concrete wall absorbed most of the explosion but nevertheless debris were sent flying all over the place. In a matter of minutes, all that was left on the site of the Street generator was a huge crater with wires dangling all over the place and a big black box that was once the generator.

"That son of a-" one of the assistants started to
Chapter 3:
"So when the valves close, a tight area is created, which compresses the air…" the nerdy-looking boy, Kunle, explained as he scrolled through the computer, which was connected to the projector, showing images of a rotary engine.
But Jamal wasn't listening, he was too exhausted. The events of the previous week took a toll on him.
"…the temperature-pressure law…the err…err…" Kunle stammered, staring at the ceiling and scratching his head. He had been too busy trying to defend the rotary engine he forgot to include proofs. The lecturer didn't make things any easier, staring coldly at him as if waiting for him to fail.
The whole thing started when they were given projects to work on during the semester break.
**flashback***
"Okay guys, to cap off the semester, I want you all to bring up something new. I don't care what, actually. We are engineers after all," Mr. Sam, the physics lecturer addressed the class. His voice reverberating through the speakers placed at the corners of the lecture theatre.
"Just don't bring rotary engines," he joked. A light laughter going across the hall.
But Kunle didn't find it funny. He sat there, eyes trained on the lean professor. He resolved to prove the old man wrong.
"But there's nothing wrong in rotary engines, sir," he said flatly.
The hall went silent, everyone knew better than to challenge Mr. Sam.
"What are you, boy? A street mechanic?" the man asked.
"No!" Kunle retorted, adjusting his glasses.
"This boy has some balls," he heard someone whisper from behind. Nobody dared to contradict the Physics lecturer or else risk putting his grades on the line. They all learnt that lesson the hard way but Kunle seemed to have forgotten.
"Rotary engines haven't been used in the past twenty, thirty years now?" the lecturer rhetorically asked. "We are in a new age now." His eyes scanning the class and falling on Kunle, maintaining eye contact for an uncomfortable period of time.
"But our street mechanic over here wants to revive an old tradition."
***Back to present***

"Stop wasting our time, young man," he heard the man's voice say. "Jamal!"
Jamal quickly snapped out of his fantasy world. Without taking his eyes off his prey, who was already sweating profusely in the air-conditioned theatre, he said, "Can you remind our young Einstein over here the gas law of pressure and temperature?"
"Damn," Jamal muttered under his breath, looking sideways. He felt all eyes on him. 'This wasn't the resumption I planned for' he thought. 'Then prove them wrong' a voice rang in his head.
"Err..Ahem!" He cleared his throat."That would be Gay-Lussac's law, sir," Jamal started to say; "when volume is constant, P1 dot T2 is equal to P2 dot T1, sir."
There was a pause, then, "Good. Now where were we?"
The rest of the class went on with the thorough embarrassment of Kunle and lecturing him about professorship.
********
C.T. Securities was located a few metres away from the city's administration offices. The newly-built 15-storey skyscraper was nowhere near as tall as the other administrative buildings around it, but it made up for height in other aspects with its heat, sound and bullet proof windows, sensors, and a database which rivalled that of the Defense Ministry. The words C.T. Foundations were boldly inscribed at the top of the 10-foot entrance. The silver-coloured painting used gave the structure a shiny look both during the day and at night. It had the look of a giant silver-coloured anthill as security staff and personnel could be seen through the transparent windows moving up and down and around the edifice continuosly.
Mr. Faruk stopped to stare at the great building one more time. He has been there numerous times, but still couldn't help but admire the architectural masterpiece every time he saw it. He adjusted the tie of his expensive designer suit, ran a hand over his clean shaven head as if to make sure it was his, and then proceeded to the entrance which was manned by two armed security men stationed at both sides of the double doors. They stood like statues staring into the empty space ahead, unmoving. Sensing his approach, the doors opened automatically and he walked past them onto a short one-way path which led to the lobby. Contrary to the ghost town appearance of the building from the outside, the inside was filled with the low chattering of employees and the noise of their shoes on the marbled floor. At the lobby he approached the receptionist, signed in his details and was ushered to the fifth floor. The elevator ride was smooth and quick, with the only delay being to drop off its occupants. Arriving on the fifth floor, he walked over to the only door on the right of the long corridor, the conference hall.

The room was well furnished with a shiny long conference table with the chairs around it made from expensive materials. The large window -like all other windows in the bulding- occupied the whole wall it was fixed in and provided a beautiful view of the city. At the other end of the building was a huge 30-inch LCD monitor. The atmosphere was kept at optimum temperature by the high-tech air conditioners spaced on the wall opposite the door.
Faruk turned the door knob and entered the hall, the slippery feel of the marbled floors outside immediately replaced by the hard feel of the expensive Persian rug which covered the floor space. He saw three men, all in their mid-fifties. Two were seated near the monitor, listening to the third who stood and was explaining some things showed on the screen. They were so consumed in their conversation they didn't notice his presence until he greeted, then all attention seemed fixated on him. They exchanged pleasantries, he located a seat and they continued their discussion.
"The railway stations…" said the man standing, pulling up a schematics of the city's railway network; "…are the first places we need to secure. Some poor bastards with connections in high places use it to transport drugs and firearms across the city." The three men seated around him all nodded in agreement.
"Impressive research, Thomas," stated the man sitting across Faruk. His huge physique, shaved head, and moustache gave him a military appearance. "But that means we'll need a man doing the dirty work on the inside. Nobody would want that."
"I got that covered up. He's well-trained, military. The lack of action over there got him knocking on our door looking for something to do," the one called Thomas smiled smugly.
"And you are sure he's not a suspect?" asked Faruk.
"He's got a clean record, gentlemen. He'll be here in a few days," said the other man on Faruk's right. He pulled out a cigar from his inner pocket and lit it.
"You know him too?" asked the military looking man.
"Of course. He met Isa and I at a restaurant some days ago," replied Thomas, still looking rather smug.
Isa nodded in affirmatively, taking drags from his cigar.
"So we have that wrapped up for today. You are dismissed," roared the huge man, setting his icy stare on Faruk. "Except for you."
"Easy, General, we are not your lackeys," joked Isa, possibly stoned.
Thomas and Isa left the room shortly after.
"How are you finding the new system?" the General asked.
"Better than I thought it would be, David. You did a fabulous work," an impressed Faruk remarked.
"Your brother inspired me. I can still remember the good old days," David replied as he tried unsuccessfully to hide the pain in his voice."He was a good man."

The warehouse was located at the roughest part of the city, The Den, where even law enforcement officers are weary of. The powerstruggle between the biggest gang in the country -Xeros- was of at its peak in The Den as it was a strong base for criminals operating nationwide.
Lopo; a tall muscular man with hard looks and low cut hair, leader of Xeros, watched from the rooftop as his boys loaded a truck with crates from the warehouse with many armed men patrolling the perimeter. He wore only a singlet and faded blue jeans. Tattoos of different patterns covered he left side of his dark body from neck to fingers. He heard the impatient movement of the people behind him as they waited and a small smile spread across his face. He wanted to show his authority to them and they couldn't do anything about it.
"Dragon," he called over his shoulder and a thin light-complexioned guy in his early twenties stepped forward; "take the money and confirm it."
Dragon collected the bag from one of the two men dressed in suits and headed downstairs. He came back shortly afterwards looking incensed.
"It's 500 short, sir," he said, glaring at the two. They seemed to have seen a ghost.
"So your boss decided to play games," Lopo said, calmly.
"No…there seems to be a mistake!" one of them contemplated. The other nodded in the affirmative.
With a wave of a hand by his boss, Dragon stepped forward again, nodded and left. His voice echoed through the walls. "Unload the truck!"
Seeing that they had nothing to lose, the two men glanced at each other before making a run towards their main target, who had his back to them. The smaller one went ahead of his bigger partner and was already inches away from Lopo.

"Yes!" he thought, clenching his fists. He'll deliver two successive kidney shots, which will paralyze his prey. By then Ola would've finished pouring the potent poison onto the handkerchief and they'll both force it on the wretched gangster. He suddenly heard his partner scream in pain to which he instinctively looked back. He saw Ola stagger to his knees, his shoulder drenched in blood. He was snapped back to reality by the blurry movement beside him. In his rush he had forgotten Lopo for a second and it cost him. The blow that landed on his temple felt like it was delivered by a sledgehammer and he felt his brain rattle, the force travelling throughout his body and sent him flying a few meters backwards. He heard Ola roar in anger as he leapt forward, brandishing a pistol and sending shots towards their opponent. With agility that defied his physique, Lopo was already a few seconds ahead of them. In one fluid movement, he shifted laterally and with a single stride was near the big man who was again late to react. He grabbed Ola's shooting hand by the wrists, then swiftly moved behind him, bending the arm and directing the aim to his enemy's head. His partner, who stood frozen for a moment, made to rescue his friend but was stopped in his tracks by another sharp blow to the head, this time by Dragon, which knocked him unconscious.
"Go ahead," breathed Ola, "I'm not afraid of you. Kill me."
With a chuckle, Lopo snatched the gun and hit him in the back of the head with it. He stared at the two unconscious bodies on the ground for a while, then pulled out a cigarette from his jean pocket and lit it.
"These f*ckers are cops," he said, puffing out smoke through thin lips. "They'll have trackers. Deal with it."
"Yes, sir," answered Dragon.

********
Jamal dropped from the cab and headed home. The house looked dark which signified his uncle wasn't home yet. The man left early and came back late since getting the job last month. The pulled out his extra key from his pocket and unlocked the door. He waited a little to allow his eyes to adjust to the dark before walking through the sitting room to the kitchen then opened the store room. After wandering around for a while and knocking things over, he finally found the power switch and pulled it on, illuminating the whole area. He then went upstairs to his room and jumped in the shower but not before checking the clock on his bedside table: 20:36. His monotonous lifestyle was becoming a problem for him which was causing a decrease in his academics and social life. He let the shower run for a while, soaking his dry skin, as he remembered Eva.
'Eva…' he thought, pictures of her small curvy frame seated in front of him in class. He had been planning to talk to her but felt it'll be an awkward situation given she was dating Gabby, the class rep. He doesn't know much about him but he heard from Chris, his friend, that Gabby was involved in many crimes around campus but managed to get away with it because his father had friends in high places. He didn't want to get into any squabble with such people.
The sound of his phone ringing brought Jamal out of his revere and he quickly grabbed a towel from the stand.
"What's up bro?" he heard a voice say over the phone speaker. "You left early today."
"Yeah, I was kinda gassed out. The rep was no joke," Jamal replied in a tired tone.
"Come on, you mechanics got the longer end of the candle," Chris jokingly said.
Jamal sighed. They've always argued about the same issue, comparisons between computer and mechanical engineers. He decided to change the topic. "Have you called Deb?"
Debby was Chris' girlfriend. She also happened to be Eva's girlfriend which explains how Chris knew so much about Gabby's activities. Jamal always wondered why most ladies chose to go out with the bad guys.
"Jamal?" he heard his friend's voice crack over the phone.
"Yeah?" Jamal responded, clearing his voice. "What did you say?"
"I said she's been cool. Are you free for the weekend? Gabby is throwing a party and we're invited. C.T. Securities. Seems papa's boy has links there too."
"C.T. Securities?!" Jamal exclaimed. Thoughts of his uncle seeing him partying crossed his mind.
"Yup," Chris replied proudly then, "Wait, your uncle works there?"
"Yeah, you know-"
"He's a new member right?" Chris interrupted.
"Yeah, but-"
"That decides it then! We're going!" he cheered. "I can't believe I'm gonna chill in the VIP section."
"Hold your horses there, pal," Jamal reiterated before his friend went into another one of his fancy dreams, "It's my uncle. He'll never give me any such permission. We'd be languishing RIP in some cemetery downtown than VIP in his workplace."
"Then we'll sneak you in, agreed?"
"Deal…" Jamal couldn't control his excitement that night. He'll finally get to meet his crush. Though it crushed him to see her with someone else, he still felt his insides turn. He laughed at his poetry. He slept off a happy man.
**********

Faruk was in his office working overtime. The recruitment of staff had been hectic enough for that day but he wanted to clear the paperwork on his table before calling it day. He keyed sequences on the computer keyboard, uploading profiles, extracted and distributed data to the military database. The Minister of Defense specifically asked for data to be delivered directly to his office on a daily basis. He heard the clicking sounds of shoes kissing the marbled floor and stopping in front of his office door. He immediately knew who it was.
"Come on in," he said before hearing a knock.
A beautiful dark skinned lady in her late twenties stepped in holding a few files to her medium-sized chest like a schoolgirl. She wore a grey suit with knee-length skirt -which could hardly contain her hourglass figure- and 3-inch heels with her hair tied in a ponytail. She gracefully walked across to the table. Faruk couldn't help but breath in her rosy smell. He suddenly felt a bulge start to develop in his trousers, something he hadn't felt in years. He quickly adjusted his weight in the leather seat back to a professional posture.
"Good evening sir," she greeted with a smile, "the General called for a meeting in the conference hall. Ten minutes."
"Thank you Anna," he answered.
She turned to leave and he couldn't help stealing a glance at her behind when she turned around suddenly, "Sorry, I was supposed to drop this with you," handed the files over to him and left.
Faruk checked the files and added them to the small ones stacked up on his left and prepared for the meeting.

Everyone was already seated for the meeting by the time he arrived. The table was occupied by almost 25 people. Faces of which he only recognized a few. He quickly found somewhere to seat but not before catching a glance of Thomas and Isa holding a silent conversation in the front seats. Thomas had a look of apprehension on his face while Isa looked indifferent as usual. After everyone had settled and quiet, Thomas rose to speak.
"Gentlemen," he said, eyes darting around, "I arranged this meeting to introduce the spy I had mentioned a month ago." He took a long, slow breath and continued, "Come on in, Kelvin."
Kelvin stepped in, his hair cut low, his tall heavily built body looking fit in his suit. The bright illumination in the room striking his hard features and fair complexion. His eyes immediately met that of General David, his father. Nobody seemed to notice anything was amiss except Faruk, who knew David and his son's relationship had been on the low for years. They hadn't spoken to each other since that eventual night three years ago. Faruk quickly glanced at the General and was met by an icy stare. He nodded his head slightly as if to say "let's hear him out".
About thirty minutes later, plans were laid out and the objectives were thoroughly discussed.
"I shall infiltrate their ranks, poison them, and bring them down from the inside." Faruk heard Kelvin say; he had been lost down memory lane he missed large portions of the meeting. "After that I'll lead a small team to deliver the coup de grace." Faruk looked around and saw most of the members looking at Kelvin in admiration, nodding their heads in agreement to his proposals. Except General David. He had been silent since Kelvin came in, the enthusiasm seemed to have left him.
"Mr. Kelvin, you seem so sure of your plan. What if things go south all of a sudden?" one of the members -a man with a balding head with streaks of white hair around his head- asked.
"I have made plans for such occurrences, sir. I have it all covered," replied Kelvin, with confidence in his voice.
A few minutes later the meeting was rounded up and hands were shook. The mission was named Code Black and would take effect immediately. Without a second look at his son, General David left the conference room, leaving Faruk to the matter. They ended up agreeing to dinner later that night.

The party wasn't going as planned for Jamal. The VIP section was upstairs, overlooking the dance floor. Everywhere was clouded in thick smoke and beers were going round with music sending vibes into the air. Jamal sat alone in the last VIP booth, sipping a soft drink and watching the writhing and gyrating going on downstairs. The other four booths were filled with thuggish looking characters smoking and drinking with equal measure. The dim blue lights provided the perfect atmosphere for the occasion. He was about to pick his phone to call Chris when the VIP entrance door opened and a huge muscular guy wearing a white vest and jeans walked in. His neck and left hand were covered in tattoos, darkening his dark skin more. He was followed closely by a slender guy, early twenties, Jamal estimated. Jamal noticed the whole VIP floor went silent at the sight of the stranger. Shaking off the attention, the stranger walked straight to Jamal's booth and took a seat while his bodyguard stood.
"Who the f*ck are you," the man asked, his voice gruffy. "Where is your boss?"
"Not here…" Jamal calmly replied, maintaining eye contact. "And he's not my boss."
The man's eyes narrowed for a moment, as if wanting to jump at Jamal. Then, "Dragon." The young bodyguard nodded and left.
After about forty minutes of silence, the man shifted his weight, "So, who are you then?"
"Jamal," he replied, extending a hand over the table.
The man looked at the hand then up at Jamal. He scoffed. "Watch it kid. You might me one of Gabby's lackeys, but he works for me. So if you…"
"Whoa! Take it easy there Lopo," Gabby's voice interrupted from a few metres away. Jamal could barely hear him over the loud music. In a few seconds Gabby and the rest were locating their seats in the booth and the one called Dragon was back with a crate of beer.
"What's up, Jamal," Gabby greeted. "Where's your girl?"
Jamal could feel Eva's eyes on him which deflated his confidence.
"Jamal's keeping it low key," Chris said as he opened a bottle of Heineken.
Jamal could hear the giggles of both Debby and Eva. He sank deeper into his seat.
"Low key, you say?" Gabby laughed, pulling out his phone. "Yo, Clement. Bring them in." Then he hung up.
"Clement?" The thug called Lopo asked in a surprised tone.
"Yeah," Gabby gulped his drink, belched, then continued. "Dad brought some half-a*s guy as bodyguard. 'Better protection' he said."
Lopo scoffed then looked around the table, his gaze settled on Debby, who was sitting across him. "Who are these guys?"
Gabby cleared his voice dramatically, "New friends. Jamal here helped with the booth. Chris over there helped with the drinks."
Lopo still looked at Debby for about fifteen seconds more, then leaned to Gabby's ear to whisper something. Gabby laughed, something that seems to be his trademark.
About ten minutes later the entrance opened again and Jamal saw a familiar face walking in dressed in black suit. He couldn't believe it at first but as the figure came closer he saw Kelvin. He was followed by three girls, all dressed in mini skirts which showed their heavy curves. He approached the booth and announced, "They are here."
"Where's Clement?" Gabby asked.
"He's downstairs. Boss' orders," Kelvin replied.
"You did well, Francis," Lopo added.
Jamal ignored the exchange and sipped his drink. Many thoughts ran through his mind at once. Why would a decent soldier like Kelvin resort to being a bodyguard to shady people? Weren't they rich enough? He made a mental note of asking Kelvin when he got home. His attention was brought back to the booth when he heard Gabby address him.
"Guys, meet my sister, Hafsat," Gabby said, gesturing at one of the girls, the prettiest, Jamal thought. Her smile radiated through the small area.
"Hafsat. Lopo on my right," he gestured at the thug, "that's Chris over there, and Jamal."
Jamal caught her stare and felt uneasy. He raised his glass to signal a greeting. She smiled. Chris saw that. He caught Jamal's gaze, mouthing "what are you doing?" Jamal ignored him.
An hour later a half drunk Gabby and Eva went upstairs later followed by Chris and Debby with Lopo closely following suit. The other two girls also ventured off and Jamal was left with Hafsat. She stood up and sat near him.
"Hi," she smiled brightly, "enjoying the party?"
"Not what I expected, but…" he shrugged.
He opened his third drink of the evening, avoiding her fixed stare.
"How did you know my brother?" She sounded curious.
"He's a…" Jamal searched for words. "Mate?" he finally said.
"Weird." She frowned. "Because he never mentioned you?"
Who's this girl, and what's her deal anyway? Jamal thought. He laughed lightly. The rest of his stay was deemed to be an annoying one, he knew it.
It was 23.54 hours before Jamal left the party. Hafsat insisted on walking him, claiming it to be rude not to as it was her brother's party. A dumb excuse, and they both knew it. They strolled through the blocks on the quiet street, in silence.
"You are a nice guy," she suddenly said, adding "by my standards."
He laughed. "Well you too."
"You know you don't mean that. A girl you just met?" she asked, staring ahead.
"I could say that to you too."
She laughed. "I'm good at reading first impressions."
"So am I."
She laughed again, then sighed.
"I fancy hearing your voice again. Could you give me your contact?" Jamal asked, trying to catch her eye. She looked at him for a second, pursing her lips, then looked away.
"Nah… I don't think so," she laughed before quickly adding, "unless you come take it at school tomorrow. Hollow Restaurant, at 10."
"Right." They said their goodnights and Jamal boarded a cab home.

************
The man's muscular build was drenched in sweat even under the air-conditioning. He pinned both her hands sideways in each of his as he hovered above the girl lying on the bed. He was slowly kissing her neck, then firmly clamped his lips on one firm br*ast and starting sucking. Her n*ked body shuddered beneath him and she let out a whimper.
"Please…" she breathed, arching her back and offering more of her body to him. She was getting hotter.
After a few more minutes of kissing and sucking, he rose to a kneeling position between her legs and started unbuckling his belt. The room was dark so he had to fumble a little before locating her entrance. She let out a moan as she accepted his girth; it was bigger than she expected. He smiled in triumph, no girl could handle him and this one was no different. He leaned forward, his hands supporting his weight, and started feeding more inside her.
"Stop…please," she cried. But her words fell on deaf ears. He was at least 9 inches, she thought. She felt him reach down and grabbed one firm thigh, pushing it upwards to provide more space. She felt narrower and tighter, more pain. His organ was none like she has taken before and it was starting to feel like a hot rod passing through her. She suddenly felt his lips on her br*asts again, pleasure coursing through her curvy body and made her more receptive to his huge member. She felt hot but more arous*d, and arched involuntarily writhing from the sudden pleasure. She wondered how long she could resist him.
Lopo laughed at her predicament. He glanced over at the dark bundle of mass at the corner of the room. The night was still young, and there was a lot she had to learn. He stuffed the last inch of his thing inside her, making her scream. Music to his ears.
**********

**********
Jamal tried Chris' phone for the umpteenth time that evening but got no reply. It had been two days since the party and he hadn't seen or heard from his friend since. Checking him up at school was pointless since they were on a short break. Leaning back down on the bed, he tried to remember that night.
Thirty minutes later Jamal was in a taxi on his way to The Den. He stared out the window, the luxurious city faded into dilapidated buildings as the car negotiated through the southern district. Memories of the party rushed through his mind like a wave. He shook his head sharply, as if to shake off a persistent fly. But he only knew one thing for sure; the Lopo guy was last seen shadowing Chris.
*********
Debby stirred in her bed. Her joints hurt badly over the last couple of days. She had been servicing Lopo on a daily basis since the night at the party when she received a text from Chris saying to meet up at a restaurant in The Den. There she met Lopo, who kidnapped her to his place and had forced himself on her while a tied up Chris watched. Lopo let her go, on the condition she had to keep coming until he decided it was enough to let her boyfriend go. Now she was confused. She didn't know if she was going for Chris' sake or to satisfy her own selfish desires. Were they selfish? She wondered. She was a lady after all, and deep down she was attracted by the body and violent nature of Lopo.

Debby was jolted out of her reverie by the ringing of her phone. She picked it up but dropped it after seeing the caller: Jamal. The weird boy never even tried to get to know her, she thought. He never got to see her beauty or at least he could've tried. No, he always seemed to ignore her. She went back to building air castles.
For the third time, no answer. Jamal decided to ditch the phone calls and try locating his friend by himself. Time check: 19.47 hrs. He had been seated in front of a cyber cafe for half an hour, trying to gather his thoughts. For the first time, Jamal wished he was in the military. Things would have been a lot easier. He decided to shove those thoughts and head to the second home of gangstars, the bar.
It took him twenty minutes to locate a tired looking bar called Sam's, seemingly the only bar in The Den. He walked in amidst stares and glares of the people there. The atmosphere smelled of cheap beer and stale sweat. Some violent music was being blasted on the dusty speaker. The tables looked dusty too and the plastic chairs were past better days. It was obvious they were uncomfortable seeing someone from the city as from the corner of his eye he saw someone on his far right touch his belly, as if feeling for something. A gun. In a small room like this one, a gun fight would be vicious, to say the least. Jamal knew that and decided to go take a seat near the man. Without a word, the man turned his back to Jamal and continued sipping his drink. He smelled terribly. Jamal raised his hand at the chubby waitress behind the counter, signalling two bottles.
By 20.26 hrs., Jamal and the man were engaged in conversation. The man was making most of the noise. A bottle of beer can go a long way, Jamal thought.
"You see, oga," the man muttered, "your presence for here, may be the last of you." He gulped down his glass and glanced at Jamal's untouched bottle. On cue, Jamal handed it to him and the man smiled. "You dey there!"
Jamal smiled, "I'm looking for a guy named Lopo," he said and noticed the immediate change in the mans demeanor. His eyes narrowed and he stared at him suspiciously.
"Let's go upstairs," the man whispered.
A minute later they were climbing a wooden staircase leading upstairs in silence. The tired thing groaned under their weight as if going to collapse any time soon. The steps led to a corridor with rooms on both sides. The lights were red, giving the place a gloomy appeal. All doors seemed shut, locked from the inside. As they strode past doors, Jamal could make out less than quiet moans and beds creaking. There were eight rooms in total and at the end of the corridor was another door. The man opened that door and they were in a small verandah. The fresh air hit Jamal's nostrils and his lungs welcomed the sudden change.
"So…" the man finally said, leaning on the metal railings, "let's talk about the boss."
"I'm looking for him," Jamal replied, hopefully. Then he noticed a smirk on the man's face and quickly added, "I'll compensate your efforts. Make it worth your while."
The man let Jamal's words hang in the air for a few seconds before taking a deep breath. "Ten thousand."
"I'll make it fifteen," Jamal said, reaching for his wallet. The man stared at him through bloodshot eyes. It didn't take Jamal another thought to know why; his wallet was missing. Before Jamal could utter a word the door banged open and hit him in the back. The force sent him tripping forward towards the man. Jamal's eyes caught the man raising his hand but his body couldn't react as quickly. The right hook caught him square on the jaw, knocking him down and out.
************

The door was guarded by two armed men. Behind it came occasional grunts of effort. A man at work. One of the guards produced a cigarette from his back pocket and lit it. It was going to be a rough night.
The punishment room located at the basement's warehouse was an unfortunate place to be for anybody. The young man was dragged inside after days of starvation and beating. It was obvious he upset the boss and things went south.
Lopo used the back of his left hand to clean the blood mixed with sweat on his face. It was ostensible that this Jamal guy was tough. Lopo leaned his back on the nearest wall to catch his breath. His white vest was drenched in sweat with patches of blood in some areas. He had been drilling his victim for almost an hour and the fatigue has started catching up to him. The room had just a small window near the roof which made ventilation a problem for people inside.
"I'll ask you again," Lopo said, his voice low and dangerous. "Who…sent you?"
No reply.
Lopo walked up to him. Half of his face was swollen with cuts above the eyelids. Blood flowed freely from random areas around his head, staining his shirtless body. His body weight was supported only by the chains around his hands.
"See," the criminal whispered, "we could end this right now. Just tell me who sent you, man."
"I'm here…" Jamal struggled to talk due to his swollen lips. "To get Chris."
Lopo laughed hysterically as he patted Jamal on the face. "That mother*cker? Really?" He eyed Jamal. "You are going through all this for that boy?"
"That's what friends do." the prisoner scoffed, then sternly, "But lowlifes like your sort will never…"
There was a bone-shattering left hook to the abdomen area. The air was knocked out of Jamal's lungs and he coughed blood. His legs went completely limp and his liver felt dull. He was momentarily unconscious.
"You have the guts…" Lopo seethed, "guards! To come in here and lecture me about morals."
Jamal saw light at the entrance as the door opened and two silhouettes walked in. His vision was blurry and his senses were mixed up. The two men stood on each side of his semiconscious body, reaching for something above his head. Suddenly there was a click and Jamal was bundled to the cold floor.
"The b*tch lectures me about loyalty." Jamal heard. The voice seemed far away. There was more talking but he was drifting into unconsciousness fast. The last thing he heard was "…them tomorrow"

**********
Faruk sat on the couch, his gaze distant. He had been alarmed when he hadn't heard from Jamal for days but was told by Kelvin that he was being held captive by Lopo.
"It'll blow my cover," Kelvin had said.
Faruk was shocked at the young man's reply at first but hid his emotions.
"The fate of this country lies in the spy carrying out his mission well," the General also commented.
Faruk buried his face in his hands. He knew they were right. The security of the nation against the life of his nephew -who was careless- were not worth comparison. He had weighed his options for the last couple of hours. His mind was made up the second he picked up his phone and made the call. The phone rang three times then someone picked.
Jamal shivered on the cold floor. His body hurt in many places due to the beatings dished out on him the last few days. His stomach felt light and empty; because it was. But the hunger was the least of his concerns at that moment. For once in his life, Jamal regretted his rejection of the military. If only he had thought his decision through before it was too late. His eyes suddenly flashed open and he was sitting up. The military. 'Kelvin!' a voice rang in his head. He saw him that night at the party. So he must've known what was happening and surely informed his uncle? His stomach suddenly lurched; he couldn't know which side his friend was on. They haven't spoken for long. Jamal carefully rested his head back on the cold floor. The more he thought about it, the more helpless he felt.

Thirty minutes later Jamal woke with a start, hearing the bolts of the metal door unlock. The cool air hit Jamal's sweaty body for a while before two flash lights were pointed directly at his face, making him squint. The men stood at each side of the entrance as someone else walked in and Jamal easily recognized him to be Lopo. He held something to his left ear and listened. Even in the darkness Jamal could sense that Lopo wasn't happy with something.
"That's gonna cost you a fortune, friend!" Lopo screamed at the phone in his hand. After listening for a few seconds more, he hung up. Then glared at Jamal for what seemed like hours. "Take him outside. Prepare for transportation."
"The other one?" one of the guys asked. Jamal recognized it to be Kelvin's.
"No. Just this one," Lopo replied, turning to leave. "Go!"
********
Faruk sat nervously in the couch. He had been there since late hours of the afternoon. The number he dialled was not reachable, so he used the other one and was asked to wait a while. He checked his wristwatch, 23.47 hrs. "How long is a while?" he muttered to himself, suddenly realizing he was sweating.
Throughout his life, Faruk had been dealing with people from the underworld; ghosts. They walked among people, ate with them, but were a different kind of breed. They operated without leaving a trace so were very difficult -almost impossible- to track. But Faruk, being a stubborn one himself, finally broke into the ghost world years ago. He couldn't believe his astonishment when he found his brother in the same room as he. Only to be notified that he got there because his brother intentionally left the breadcrumbs for him to trace. From that day Faruk feared his brother, but also admired him as he was a worthy soldier. He was using his place in C.T. Securities to try getting hold of his brother's file, but so far all effort seemed worthless.
The ringing of his phone crudely brought him back to reality; it was an unknown number. He smiled and answered. "Hello?"
'It's done. Just this once, Vulcan out.'
Faruk rested his head on the couch and took a deep breath. He knew it was going to end like this the moment he made the call, but it was for the best. He decided to forget Jamal for the rest of his life. To let go, because the costs were going to be too high.

*******
The moon shone brightly in the clear sky. Jamal, closely guarded by two of Lopo's men, had been standing in the clearing in front of the warehouse for almost forty minutes. His shoulders hurt due to his arms being tied from behind the whole time. His body was sore from the endless punishment he endured in the basement. Lopo had said something about Jamal being bought off as a slave, shaking him to the marrow. He received a thrashing for his protests. Jamal looked around, the lights and skyscrapers overlooked the warehouse. They looked to be a city away, like an impossible dream. Only to be viewed but unattainable. He looked towards the guards behind him. They looked as tired as he was, loosely gripping their guns. AK rifles, Jamal thought.
About five minutes later there was a flashing light, like someone turned a flash light on and off. It seemed to be a signal somehow. Jamal's curiosity was answered when the men grabbed him by both arms and dragged him towards the light. It was a twenty minutes walk from the warehouse, in a wide clearing, a makeshift football pitch. The posts were rusted even in the dark and the ground was rough and unleveled. Jamal saw a car parked at the center of the space, the engine kept running.
"You're late," the guard on Jamal's right commented.
"Just as late as you are," a muffled voice replied from behind the car. The man wore a plain black t-shirt and straight jeans. The lower part of his face was covered with a black cloth. His hair cut low. He let the cigarette he was smoking drop to the ground and stepped on it before approaching them. He glanced at Jamal then the guards. "Is this him?"
"Obviously," the same guard replied.
The stranger's eyes narrowed at the guard, "You'd do well to show some respect."
The guard simply scoffed, repositioned his rifle, then threw Jamal at the man.
Moments later Jamal was bundled in the boot of the car. The shortage of oxygen getting worse by the second. Jamal felt weaker and was semiconscious. He could barely make out the conversation going on outside.
"My regards to your boss," he heard his abductor say. Then two coughing sounds and the car door opening and closing. That was the last thing he heard.

did one go make o. kwantinue

The Awakened:
Jamal stared at the rice and beans on the small table. He was seated on the floor in the middle of a medium-sized room. It was furnished by only a rug with basic wiring. The whole place felt temporary. The curtains were drawn as the sun's rays threatened to penetrate the room. The smell penetrated his nostrils, immediately sending signal to his brain which forced him to grab the nearest cutlery and start gulping down the food. He was so engrossed in the food he momentarily forgot the man sitting opposite him. Suddenly he rose his head and their eyes met.
Silence.
The man's gaze was steady and empty. His olive skin shone under the light and his stubble looked a day old. He wore a white vest and the same jeans for the last few days. His muscular frame sat elegantly on the ground. His hands moved to his back and he produced a silenced pistol. He placed on the table between himself and Jamal. He could see the fear building in the boy's eyes.
"Used that before?" he asked.
Jamal slowly shook his head. "I never needed it."
"It's a necessary evil," the man said, his voice casual. "For survival, of course."
"It seems to me you are good with this kind of stuff," Jamal eyed him.
"It's a skill you hone. But it's mostly out of instinct."
"I have no such instinct."
"Everyone is born with it. It's a blessing in disguise."
"Killing isn't a blessing."
The man breathed, "The guys who kept you prisoner, were they military?"
"I have no idea," Jamal shrugged, took another spoon of food, before adding, "They obviously weren't as organized as the military."
"They had no skill whatsoever. All they relied on was instinct," the man replied, his voice suddenly cold. "Just like I killed the two guys that brought you to me."
Jamal's jaw dropped. He suddenly feared the man more than the gun. "So, why am I here?"
The man ignored the question. He reached under the table and retrieved a small green bag then stood up. "We have to start going. You ask too many questions."
Without another word, they left the small apartment.
********

"He was bought off?" General David shouted over the phone speaker.
"Yes. It was so sudden I had no time to adjust," Kelvin replied.
"For f*ck sake, soldier," the voice sounding acid, "you ought to have anticipated sudden changes."
Kelvin didn't reply. He didn't have to. He heard a sigh over the line.
"At least it'll help keep your cover safer," Faruk's voice interrupted. "The mission is more important."
There was another awkward silence. The General cleared his throat, "Then so shall it be. Keep us posted on their activities."
The line went dead.
Kelvin switched off the phone, removed the sim and broke it. He threw it in the closet and flushed. He heard movements in the stall next to him. He silently got out and stepped to the stall. As he made to open the door, it was bashed open and one of Lopo's men sprang out. "Traitor!" he hissed.
Kelvin anticipated his opponent's movements and moved accordingly, dodging the wild lefthand swing and parrying the right hand that followed with his left arm. He quickly followed with three quick rights of his own, stunning his victim and sending him back into the stall he came out of. The man made to regain his balance but was sent stumbling to the toilet seat by a roundhouse kick to the stomach. Before he could take a breath he felt a vice-like grip around his neck, immediately sending his body into panic. He pathetically tried to unfold the fingers but was already too weak and too late; his body needed oxygen. His legs gave out first, then his pulse started fading and his eyes started to roll. The last thing he felt was a dull feeling in his brain.
Kelvin released the dead man's neck and straightened up. He dusted the sleeves of his black suit and headed to the sink to wash his hands and clean up the sweat on his face.

Wow

"When are you going to tell me where we are headed?" Jamal protested from the passenger seat. The man had been quiet for days, and that night was no different. They've been driving for almost a week. He tried listening to the low beats played on the radio but found no comfort.
"Yeah." The man suddenly said, seemingly talking to himself. He waited a while then said, "ETA thirty minutes."
"Who are you talking to?" Jamal asked.
"Not your problem."
"Can you at least tell me who you are?"
"Negative."
"What does that mean?" Jamal was getting annoyed.
The man pulled out the silenced pistol again. They were entering a small town Jamal couldn't identify. Not like he knew anything anyway, he scoffed at himself.
For the next twenty minutes the journey was silent until they approached a small motel. They booked two rooms amid further questions from Jamal. As always, he got no replies. When he got tired he went to bed.
Directly opposite Jamal's room were two people. They sat in the dark, waiting. As soon as it was 00.00 hrs., they moved. No words or gestures were made. They knew all they had to know. After double-checking their silenced pistols, they left the room. One of them moved a few paces ahead of the other, weapon engaged and senses on alert. He turned the door knob of Jamal's room but it was locked from the inside. Knowing nobody was looking, he bent down and got to work on the lock. It took him ten seconds. "You are getting rusty." He heard his companion whisper from the back. They quietly stepped into the dark room.
The man was packing his weapons when he heard the noise. They were very faint, but he could hear their movements. They moved towards Jamal's room. He knew the boy didn't see him when he dropped something in his food to make him sleep. That was his role. Even without visuals, he knew exactly what they were doing, because he was one of them; he was a ghost.

WOW REAL ACTION