₦airaland Forum

dawno2008:
He's called Theblessedman for a reason 😍

You can say that again and again and again. The man is gifted... 🫡

This is super. Ride on TBM. You da bomb

Kai, this is painful. Ah why so much sorrow. I hope the crew recover from this.

TBM, you made this seem so real.....the babe needs to pay for this manslaughter ooh.

TBM see as I dey glued to my phone like say my life depend on am... This is honestly a masterpiece.

TheBlessedMAN:
which be gbim size

in gheghe voice, gbim sizes na the one wae don scatter oo😁😁😁

Damilgodwin:
in gheghe voice, gbim sizes na the one wae don scatter oo😁😁😁

😀😀

Happy Sunday guys.

Episode 17- The Long Night.

Kenny’s face was stone. His eyes were burning. His fists clenched so tight the veins on his arms bulged.
“So Baba T died because of your lie?” Kenny’s voice cut through the air like a blade.
“I didn’t plan to kill you before… but for this?” He pointed at Jude, his face twisting. “You have to go. A brother lost his life because of your stupid ajebutter pride?”

So he’d heard everything we’d been saying.
The air in the room suddenly went stiff. Even Saipon and Cobra were silent, their faces unreadable. Both of them looked like they were born in a fight ring — muscles everywhere, black shades on at almost midnight, and that cold grin that tells you they didn’t come to talk. Each held a cutlass that glinted under the weak bulb, and for a second, my living room stopped being a home. It became a war zone.
If you’ve ever watched Spartacus—that episode where Spartacus and Crixus fought Theokoles to the death just so rain could fall in Capua—then you’ll understand what that room felt like. The only difference was, this wasn’t Capua, and there was no Spartacus. It was Darous-us and Jude-us against Kenny-oles, Saipon-oles and Cobra-oles inside my Room-ua.

“If I ever joke about something that offends you, the best thing you can do is talk to me about it,” Kenny said, his voice shaking but cold. “If you don’t like something I’m doing, it’s your right as a friend to tell me. I’d stop… I swear I would. But instead, you chose to play fake—and because of that, my brother is dead.”

He took a slow step forward, eyes locked on Jude.

“Baba T was like my Taiwo came back from the grave,” he continued, voice cracking. “He completed me, man. That brotherly bond I lost since Taiwo died… Baba T brought it back. And now you’ve taken my second Taiwo from me?”

His fists tightened. The veins on his neck stood out.

“There’s no excuse for that. None. Nothing you say can justify it—to me or to anyone with sense.” He took another step, his eyes red now, breathing heavy. “You need to join them.”

Jude’s lips trembled. “Kenny, please—”

“Don’t,” Kenny cut in sharply, his voice low and dangerous. “Don’t even try it.”

His hand twitched slightly—like he was one heartbeat away from doing something he couldn’t take back.

Funny how life flips in a heartbeat. Just twelve hours ago, Kenny was our brother, we were sharing jokes and laughs but… now he’s the nightmare standing between us and survival.

When I was younger, the only god I truly believed in was the god of thunder. But over time, after seeing how he let me down when I needed him most, I stopped following him. Still, I can’t lie—there were moments he came through for me so many times I lost count.

Now, with the odds stacked against us, it felt like the perfect moment for a prodigal son to go back home—to my father’s house, the god of thunder. So, in my head, I tried his number. It rang more than four times before one of his workers picked up and told me the god of thunder said they should tell me that the biblical prodigal son did not come back with people chasing him with cutlass to his father's doorstep. They said they will play me win or draw on Thunderbet and if their ticket wins, I can come back and they will accept me with open arms.

I was still thinking about that nonsense response when Kenny's voice cut through my thoughts.

“And the funny thing is this fool." He looked at me, " Is even entertaining this nonsense." he said, his voice carrying venom.

“K…Kenny wait—” I tried to step between them.

He raised a hand. “Darous, I respect you. But if you block my lane tonight, I go erase you too.”

Saipon chuckled. “Alaye, e no go even take one minute. Just gimme the go-ahead.”
Cobra added, “Make we wire am sharp sharp, no need long cap.”

The words hit hard. I could feel the room heating up with tension. Kenny wasn’t joking. His eyes had that deadly glow.

“Kenny, reason am na!” I shouted. “This one no be the way!”

He smirked. “Which way remain? You think say we fit go police station go cry? Or go graveyard beg Baba T spirit make e rest? No brother… the only way now na blood for blood.”

He moved closer to Jude.
“Remember wetin I tell you guys?” he said to his boys, smiling darkly.

Jude took a step back, stuttering. “Kenny, I swear, I no—”
Kenny charged at him.

I reacted first. I stepped between them, hand raised. “Kenny stop! This thing go pass wetin you fit handle!”

He turned that burning eye on me again. “So you dey threaten me? You wan die with am abi?”

That was when Saipon hissed. “Alaye, allow me sort this man. He dey talk too much.”

Kenny lunges forward to grab Jude and just like that — something snapped inside me. I remembered that day at the vault — the first mission with the Circle where I took down a man twice my size just to get a peek at a government vault. It wasn’t luck that saved me that day. It was survival instinct.

So I took my stance. Legs firm, eyes sharp. “Kenny, if una wan fight, make we do am clean. But this night, I no go allow you to kill anyone here. Not in my house.”

Cobra grinned. “You dey talk like you fit take all of us.”

“I don take worse,” I said.

Kenny spat on the floor. “You don run mad, Darous. But no wahala. Make we sort am na.... ”

Then, without warning, Saipon swung his cutlass straight at me. I dodged fast — the blade sliced the air right above my head and hit the wall with a loud clang!

Before he could raise it again, I rushed in and drove my elbow deep into his ribs. He groaned, stumbled backward, clutching his side.

Cobra came next, charging like a bull, cutlass raised high. I sidestepped and grabbed his arm, twisting it hard. The cutlass flew from his hand and before he could react, I pushed him forward — straight into my center table. The wood broke apart like biscuit under his weight.

For a short moment, it looked like I had everything under control.

Then Kenny’s voice tore through the air.
“Match am!”

Before I could even think, the lights went off. Total darkness.

My heart froze. NEPA no fail me like this na, I thought. Then, out of nowhere, I heard movement — fast footsteps, a body brushing past me, the door creaking open, then slamming shut.

“Jude!” I shouted into the dark. No answer.

A few seconds later, the light was back on— weak and buzzing.

And Jude was gone.

The front door hung half-open. My stomach sank. He’d killed the power and escaped — leaving me behind with three angry men and two cutlasses.

Kenny’s eyes met mine. His nostrils flared.
“So na like this una wan play am, abi?”

Before I could talk, Cobra grabbed me from behind, locking my arms tight. Saipon stepped in, his face full of rage, and drove his knee into my stomach. The air left my chest in one hard gasp.

They threw me to the floor like a bag of sand. My side hit the broken table. Pain shot through my ribs.

Saipon dropped his cutlass, pulled out a rope — the same rope they had brought for Jude — and began tying my hands behind my back.

Kenny paced slowly, breathing hard but calm again. And that calm was worse than his anger.

“You know say I like you, Darous,” he said quietly. “But you disappoint me. You betray the brotherhood.”

“I didn’t—”

SLAP!

The sound echoed in the room. My lip split open.

Cobra kicked my leg. Saipon hit my back with something heavy — maybe the broken table leg.

I spat blood, my vision spinning.

Kenny stopped pacing and looked around the room. His eyes narrowed.
“Wait… wetin go make me believe say Cynthia sef no dey this house? She dey here, abi?”

I kept quiet. My throat was dry.

“Cynthiaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” he suddenly screamed, his voice echoing through the whole house like a madman calling a ghost.

Then he started searching — tearing through the place like a man possessed.

He stormed into the kitchen first, flung the cupboard open, then came out again still shouting, “Cynthia! Cynthia where you dey hide?”

He barged into the bedroom next. I could hear drawers opening, things falling, hangers clattering on the floor. Then silence for a few seconds — before his footsteps returned.

Finally, he reached the bathroom.

The door creaked open.

And then I heard his voice — dark, low, full of venom.
“This cloth… na Cynthia cloth na?”

The whole place went dead quiet after that.
Even Cobra and Saipon stopped breathing for a second.

My eyes shut tight. Cynthia’s clothes. The same ones she wore to the bar and had dropped inside my bathroom after she took a quick shower.

Kenny stepped out slowly, holding the blouse between two fingers. His jaw tightened. “You hide her. You helped her escape.”

He paced around the room for some minutes as if he was deciding on what to do to me. Then he turned to his boys. “Beat am. Beat am till him spirit comot from him body, but no use matchet.”

The next few seconds were hell.

Cobra’s fist landed on my jaw. Saipon kicked me in the ribs. Another blow to my head. My body screamed but my mouth refused to. I just lay there, blood dripping, mind spinning.

Kenny leaned close. “Where is she?”

I spat blood. “I don’t know.”

He laughed — one long, mad laugh. “You dey loyal to a pvssy? A murderer? You forget say Baba T call you brother? You want to betray his memory by hiding that b*tch?”

He kicked me in the side. I coughed, pain flashing through my chest.

He raised his hand. “You see this cloth?” he said, waving Cynthia’s stained blouse. “This na the proof say you don betray your own blood. You no be brother again.”

My throat was dry. I couldn’t even form a sound. My eyes were swollen, half-shut, and everything around me had become a tunnel of pain and noise.

Then my main phone on the sofa buzzed. Right at the edge where Saipon was standing. He picked it up like a man checking a trophy and flashed the screen at Kenny.

“My second number,” he read loud, slow. “Who could be calling you with your second number?"

Kenny’s face changed from anger to a smile that had no warmth. He took the phone, thumbed the screen and put it to his ear.

On the other end, Cynthia’s voice broke like a small thing trying to hold a storm.

“Hello? Darous? Please… I know you said I shouldn't call you—” Her breath came fast. “ But I’ve been here for more than thirty minutes. I can’t find the driver. If you can help me call that man again please.”

The sound of raised voices in the background came through the line — "Iyana Ipaja, Iyana Ipaja... Oshodi, Oshodi..." Thick voice of a conductor filled the background. Kenny cut the call and gave the phone to Saipon.

He then let out a very loud laugh. A deep, slow laugh that rattled the floorboards. It was the laugh of a man who had closed his mind to mercy.

“Not only did you give her your phone, you even helped her arrange how to escape...You told her not to call you again,” he mocked into the phone, loud enough for everyone to hear.”

Kenny looked at Saipon. “Bring the phone here,” he said. Saipon handed it over to him.

Then I watched as Kenny pressed my thumb on the screen to unlock it. He scrolled through and called my second line—the one I’d given Cynthia when she left. She picked up right away and started talking, not even checking who was on the other end.

Kenny put the phone close to my face, so my own ears could hear what Cynthia was saying.

Cynthia on the line begged again. “Please. You said I should wait at this place...I've been here more than thirty minutes. The number you gave me is not responding. It's freezing here. Please, Darous—”

My mouth tasted of blood. I tried to get the words out. I tried to tell her to run, but my voice was too weak.

“Kenny!” I tried to shout, but the words couldn't form and when they eventually did, they came out weak. “Don’t… don’t touch her.”

Saipon muttered, “Boss, we can go pick her now. Make we finish everything once and for all.”

Cobra spat. “Once we catch her, we go find her boyfriend. No one go escape.”

Kenny looked at the phone again, thinking. I saw the cold calculation in his eyes. For a second, something like pity flickered across his face — but it died before it could grow.

"Abi make we finish this one first?" Cobra voiced out, pointing the Cutlass at me.

Kenny shook his head slowly. “No. Let him live. So he go feel the pain of betrayal. Make him see wetin go sup to the people wey him dey protect.”

Then he bent down, close to my ear. His voice dropped to a whisper.
“And better pray I find that b*tch at that Mushin garage. If not, the next time you hear a knock on your door, better pray say na Jehovah Witness and not me.”

He stood, turned to his boys. “Let’s go. The hunt just start. Lets find that b*tch.”

They walked out.

The door slammed.
The house felt colder after the slam, like the walls were waiting.

Now alone, fear gripped me hard. I wanted to shout after them, to beg them to stop. I wanted to grab my phone and call Cynthia, tell her where to hide. But Kenny had taken my phone… and my mouth was filled with blood.

I shut my eyes for a moment and reached out to the god of thunder again—not for myself this time, but for Cynthia. I begged him to protect her from Kenny’s claws that night. But the worker who picked the call said they’d lost big money because of me—the bet they placed on me to win the fight had failed. I didn’t even know whether to pity them or be glad they lost.

Outside, in the distance, a motorbike engine started. It sounded like a drum of doom.

Then silence.

I lay there, bleeding, breath shallow. My whole body felt like one giant bruise and all I could think of was one thing — if they find Cynthia before Chuka’s men do, she’s dead.

And maybe… so am I.

******

Continuation of Episode 17.






Detective Kalu had just finished going through the files of the limping man's case when his phone began to vibrate on the table. He sighed—he’d barely had time to rest since morning. The caller ID flashed Dr. Adeshina. That name alone told him it wasn’t a social call.

“Ah, Adeshina, long time my friend.” he said, leaning back in his chair.

But the doctor’s tone on the other end carried no warmth. “Inspector Kalu, there’s a situation here. A possible case of culpable homicide. The victim came in with a stab wound. We did everything we could, but he didn’t make it.”

Kalu sat up instantly. “Where?”

“Saint Patrick’s Hospital, Ojuelegba,” Adeshina replied. “And before you ask—yes, we’ve already treated the patient as required by law. You know the Compulsory Treatment and Care for Victims of Gunshots Act? We had to stabilize him first. But once he passed, we had to call it in.”

Kalu nodded to himself. That law was one of the few things working right in Nigeria’s justice system. It ensured victims got help before bureaucracy got in the way. Still, when someone died from a stab wound, it always led to more questions than answers.

“I’m on my way,” he said, grabbing his car keys.

He was about to leave when one of his junior officers, Corporal Saheed, knocked and poked his head in.
“Sir, we just received a call about some violent fight at J-One Bar. The caller said it’s pretty bad.”

Kalu rubbed his forehead. “You and Moses should handle that. I’m tied up with something else. Make sure you record statements from witnesses before the DPO hears it from social media.”

“Yes, sir.” The corporal saluted.

As Saheed left, Kalu turned off the light in his office and headed out. The night air was thick with the familiar scent of exhaust fumes and frustration. Lagos traffic don't even care if you were a detective or a deity—it will humble you.

It took him over forty minutes to get near Ojuelegba. As he turned into the hospital compound, his headlights caught a familiar figure standing by the walkway, near the parking lot. The young man’s face was hard to miss—Darous, the same young man who had shown up at his office earlier that morning to retract his statement about a certain case.

Darous looked tense, distracted. He wasn’t injured, but his eyes darted about like someone carrying too many pains. His clothes also looked rumpled but that doesn't really mean much.

Kalu frowned. “What’s this guy doing here again?” he muttered under his breath. Still, he brushed it off. Hospitals is a general place—anyone could have a reason to be there.

He parked, locked his car, and headed inside. The emergency ward smelled of antiseptic and fear. Dr. Adeshina met him at the door, still in his white coat.

“Thank God you came,” he said, pulling Kalu aside. “The victim didn’t survive. Knife wound to the abdomen. We tried to stop the bleeding, but…” He shook his head.

“Who brought him in?” Kalu asked.

Adeshina picked up the clipboard from the nurse’s station and flipped through it. “Three young men. One of them filled this form.”

Kalu’s eyes scanned the paper—and froze. Name of contact: Darous Emmanuel.

The detective’s heartbeat quickened. The same boy he’d just seen outside the hospital like minutes ago.

He looked up at Adeshina. “Did they leave any description of the incident?”

“Nothing clear. Just said it was a fight gone wrong.”

Kalu didn’t waste another second. He hurried back to the parking lot, just in time to see Darous mounting a bike and speeding away into the night.

“Perfect,” Kalu muttered, jumping into his car and following from a distance. He kept his headlights low and his siren off. Years of fieldwork had taught him patience was at times more effective than any bullet.

For several streets, he trailed the bike—until traffic showed its ugly head again. A long stretch of danfos, trailers, and impatient drivers blocked the road.

The bike Darous was on weaved between cars and disappeared from sight.

“Damn it!” Kalu slammed the steering wheel.

He waited for seven painful minutes, then decided to trust his instincts. Using the route he guessed the rider would take, he turned off the main road and entered a narrow street lit by yellow bulbs and gutter fires. After a few turns, he caught sight of the same red bike coming back in his direction — but Darous was no longer on it. It had dropped him off.

Kalu slowed down and waved at the bike man as he approached. He asked where he had dropped the young man off. The rider was hesitant at first, eyeing him suspiciously, but when Kalu handed him a thousand-naira note, his tongue loosened. He even offered to lead the detective to the exact spot.

He turned his bike around, and Kalu followed.

A few minutes later, they arrived at the same gate Darous had entered earlier. The bike man left immediately.

The gate was closed. Kalu parked his car beside an opposing fence. Then got out, looked around, then slowly walked up to the gate. The area was quiet, except for faint music drifting from a nearby street.

He was about to knock when he heard voices from inside — one of them was Darous, angry and upset. Kalu froze and leaned closer, straining his ears.
He couldn't pick out much from that distance then his instincts kicked in. He knew there are times you need to break the law to uphold the law. He scanned the perimeter and noticed a low fence by the side. Without a second thought, he climbed over it and landed softly behind what looked like the kitchen area. From there, he crouched close to the window, careful not to make a sound.

He caught snippets of a conversation—Darous talking to someone.

“Get up, I’ll help you,” Darous said.

“You will?” another voice replied—it was a woman’s.

Kalu leaned closer. Darous was giving her instructions—to go and wash up, change into his clothes, head to Mushin garage, and call a number he gave her. Someone would come for her there.

Using his detective sense, he began to connect the dots. The doctor’s report said it was a fight gone wrong—so this woman must be the one who killed the man at the hospital. And now, Darous was helping her run.

Kalu’s jaw tightened. Darous had fallen deep—too deep—into the Circle’s web.

He knew what the law said; he could walk in right now and arrest him for helping a murder suspect, maybe even for obstruction of justice.

But he didn’t move.

Not yet.

Because what he was hearing from Darous didn’t sound like an ordinary promise—it smelled of something bigger… something well planned.

And for Detective Kalu, the name Circle echoed in his head like a cold whisper.
The same group that had slipped through his fingers years ago.
The same people whose sins had pushed his elder brother to take his own life.

He was still processing his thoughts when the front door opened. A woman stepped out quietly, pushed the gate open, and slipped onto the empty street.

Kalu’s instincts kicked in. He decided to follow her. She might lead him straight to what he’d been chasing for years. Darous can wait—especially now that he knew his address, he could always come back.

He followed her on foot, moving as silently as a cat, blending with the shadows. His shoes barely made a sound against the rough pavement. She walked briskly, occasionally glancing over her shoulder.

When she got to a junction, she waved down a bike.

Kalu smiled faintly and flagged another one.

“Oga,” he said to the rider, “follow that red bike, but no let am notice say we dey follow am. I go give you five thousand.”

The bike man’s eyes widened.
“Five thousand? Baba, I fit follow am enter hell fire sef!”

“Just keep it cool,” Kalu warned. “No do like film.”

The rider laughed. “No wahala! Me I fit follow person reach heaven if money dey involve. Abeg hold tight make breeze no carry you.”

And with that, they started trailing her—slowly.

The ride through the road especially that time of the night was cold and almost freezing. Still the bike man kept talking nonstop.

“Officer, abeg, you sure say this woman no be your side chick wey run away?”

Kalu gave him a side-eye. “Just focus.”

The rider chuckled. “Oga calm down nah. I just dey confirm. You no go believe say one woman carry me chase her husband last week—she say make I no rest until we catch am. We follow husband reach one beer palor where he go meet him side-chick. The woman nearly kill the side-chick... Woman matter Na spiritual something ooo!”

Kalu sighed and muttered under his breath, “Just drive your bike, abeg.”

The rider laughed again. “No vex, oga. But if na money like this I dey see money every night, I go soon buy napep!”

After about fifteen minutes, the lady’s bike finally stopped near Mushin garage, beside a closed POS stand.

Kalu quickly signaled his rider to stop at the opposite side. He paid him the promised five thousand.

The man looked at the money and screamed, “Ahhh! Jehovah overdo... If this na dream abeg make I no wake up again oooo” Then he sped off, still shouting joyfully.

Kalu shook his head and crossed the road.

He got closer to where the woman stood, pretending to be focused on his phone. From the corner of his eye, he watched her closely.

His left hand brushed against his pocket, confirming the weight of his pistol.

Whatever she was waiting for, he was ready.


To be continued.

Drop your comments and reactions

This is getting more interesting with every episode. TBM, you are truly a master at work

Chai... See as this my readers just escaped ... Assuming say I never write this update before the match ni, there's every chance there won't be any update today o... Eh.. see as dem wipe my team 4-1? This one worse

TheBlessedMAN:
Chai... See as this my readers just escaped ... Assuming say I never write this update before the match ni, there's every chance there won't be any update today o... Eh.. see as dem wipe my team 4-1? This one worse

Na gawd of thunder go punish Barca wey no allow me chop better money

Omo, this thing is getting messier oo

But on a second thought oo, should someone loss / forget good memories because of one bad memories ni. From my own view Darous was trying to make sure Cynthia was save. Make this k baba rest joor

TheBlessedMAN:
Chai... See as this my readers just escaped ... Assuming say I never write this update before the match ni, there's every chance there won't be any update today o... Eh.. see as dem wipe my team 4-1? This one worse

TBM baba, I swear I nearly killed myself with laughter and joy when I see as dem dey wipe ur bombom ,Kai I pity Una keeper,the guy tire to dey carry ball from net ,barca come make old Sanchez dey feel like him still dey arsenal ndoo,sorry,kpele 😂😂😂

And see as Kenny dey make my blood hot🤬 the guy na serious mumu pro max😳him come dey flex muscles like John Cena💪,wetin dey worry am sef? Even baba T sef go dey shame on him behalf from where him dey😤, anyways na prison dey come am slowly,🤔
And see as Cynthia don allow my guy Darous loose guide,and that over sabi cop don dey see the trails wey him dey find for long,Kai,baba story just dey start, Weldon TBM, always representing,you never disappoint 💯👏

[quote author=dawno2008 post=137035997][/quote]hmmmm. Life Na spoon

dawno2008:
TBM baba, I swear I nearly killed myself with laughter and joy when I see as dem dey wipe ur bombom ,Kai I pity Una keeper,the guy tire to dey carry ball from net ,barca come make old Sanchez dey feel like him still dey arsenal ndoo,sorry,kpele 😂😂😂

And see as Kenny dey make my blood hot🤬 the guy na serious mumu pro max😳him come dey flex muscles like John Cena💪,wetin dey worry am sef? Even baba T sef go dey shame on him behalf from where him dey😤, anyways na prison dey come am slowly,🤔
And see as Cynthia don allow my guy Darous loose guide,and that over sabi cop don dey see the trails wey him dey find for long,Kai,baba story just dey start, Weldon TBM, always representing,you never disappoint 💯👏

Kenny mumu Na promax Na😂😂

This thread never still enter Page 7 ni

Darous sef too do

When you no be superman
Na everybody you go save??
Cynthia gast suffer sha

Typicool8:
This thread never still enter Page 7 ni

Omo I tire



.

Make una engage biko

Kenny is turning to something else

EPISODE 18 — The Long Night 2.


I can't really say for how long I was out but when I opened my eyes, for a moment I thought I was gone. Everywhere in my body was screaming of pain. My lips were split. My back felt like someone had used me for plank practice. My ribs burned each time I tried to breathe.

Something warm touched my wrist. I turned slowly — my neck still stiff and heavy — and saw Jude bending over me. His face was tight with anger and sorrow.

“Easy, bro. It’s me,” he whispered. “Just relax.”

He kept untying the ropes. When they dropped off, blood rushed back into my hands, burning through my veins like acid. I groaned.

He pulled my arm across his shoulders and helped me up. My legs almost gave out. He guided me gently to a chair and I dropped into it, gasping for breath.

For a moment, I just sat there, eyes half closed. Then I managed to smile through my swollen lips when I saw how deeply Jude was worried about my situation.

“You see now, Jude? I can’t die just like that. I’m the only rightful heir to the throne of Thunder . If I die, who will.....?”

“You’re cracking jokes?" Jude cut into my words, with a straight face. " "In this your condition? Or you don't get it? How deeply messed up we are right now... Darous, we are in deep sh*t”

I tried to laugh, but the pain shot through my chest and shut me up. Jude’s tone softened a bit.
“Ogbeni, we’re in deep trouble.”

“I know,” I said quietly, as everything that happened started coming back to me. I closed my eyes, and a tear rolled down my face when I remembered Baba T’s death. Then came the memories that followed after — the night everything changed.

Kenny.

Our friend. Our brother. The same person who used to stand by us, laugh with us, eat with us — now the one hunting us like strangers.

How does that even make sense? How can someone switch so fast? One moment he was our guy, and the next, he was our greatest enemy. All because of one tragic mistake, something none of us could control.

I’ve tried to understand it, but I still can’t. Maybe Baba T’s death broke something inside him — something that never healed. But even at that, it still doesn’t explain how friendship could turn into war that easily.

Sometimes I just sit and wonder — how did we really end up here, in this mess between friends, frenemies, and foes?


“I don’t even know where to find Cynthia…” Jude said, his voice thick with worry.

“You can’t find her,” I said quietly. “I already helped her before you came here tonight.”

His eyes shot up. “What? Wait—how? When?” he stuttered.

“Sit,” I said, pointing to the chair beside me. “Let me explain.”

He sat slowly, eyes fixed on me. “Alright, tell me what happened.”

So I told him. Everything.
How I found Cynthia hiding inside my house that night — shaking like someone who had just escaped death.
How I called Chuka to help her get away before Kenny could find her.

Jude’s eyes widened. “Wait—Chuka? You mean the same Chuka from the Circle?”

“Yes,” I said. My throat felt dry. “I didn’t have a choice. I tried calling you, but your line was off. Kenny was already searching everywhere for her… and for you. If I hadn’t acted fast, she’d be dead by now. Trust me.”

Jude exhaled sharply and rubbed both hands over his face. “Maybe she deserves whatever happens to her,” he muttered. Then louder, “You shouldn’t have involved the Circle. You know what those people are capable of. Cynthia might later wish Kenny had killed her instead of ending up owing them.”

“She’s not the one who owes them,” I said firmly. “I am. They’ll come for me, not her. And honestly, she’s safer with them than with Kenny.”

He shook his head slowly. “Still, Chuka and his people are not the kind you joke with. They’re dangerous… very dangerous.”

“I know,” I said. “But last night, I had no other choice.”

For a moment, silence filled the room. The only sound was the faint ticking of the wall clock.
Then Jude spoke again. “Where’s Kenny now?”

That question froze me. My eyes drifted to the clock. 3:22 a.m.
“He’s been gone for over three hours,” I said slowly. “He said he was going after Cynthia.”

Jude frowned deeply. “We need to know if she’s okay. Or if he’s already found her.”

He pulled out his phone and dialed my second number — the one I gave Cynthia. It rang once, then went off.

“Try again,” I said.

He did. Still off.

“I think Kenny took my main phone,” I said. “Let’s try my number instead.”

We tried my big phone — dead too.
Then we called Kenny’s number — once, twice, ten times… fifteen… twenty. Nothing.

Jude dropped the phone on the table and shook his head. “He’s not picking. Something’s wrong.

Jude sat opposite me, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands pressed hard against his face. The room felt heavy, like all the air had turned to stone.

“It’s my fault." Jude said. His voice heavy with regret. "All of it. Baba T… Cynthia… everything. If I didn’t let my stupid ego get in the way—”

“Stop,” I said quietly, shaking my head. “There’s enough blame to go round. Don’t do that to yourself.”

He looked up at me, his eyes red and heavy with guilt.
“No, you don’t get it,” he said, shaking his head slowly. “If I hadn’t treated Cynthia like she no longer mattered… if I hadn’t pulled away from her just because my stupid ego got bruised by Toyosi, maybe she wouldn’t have had any reason to doubt me — not to talk of stabbing someone. Maybe none of this would’ve happened.”

I could see his hands trembling as he spoke, his voice cracking on the last words. For a moment, there was only silence between us — the kind that makes your chest feel tight and your throat dry.

I sighed and leaned back against the wall, wincing at the pain in my ribs. “And if I hadn’t dragged all of you to that stupid party… asking you to do one ridiculous interview before I can take you along...… maybe Baba T would still be alive. Maybe we’d all be fine.”

Jude shook his head. “No. You were just trying to help us catch fun na. Me… I killed him with my pride. I can’t forgive myself for that. I can’t.”

I leaned forward and gripped his shoulder firmly, forcing him to meet my eyes.

“Listen to me,” I said, my voice steady. “Baba T’s death wasn’t just one person’s fault. We all played a part — every single one of us. You’re not the only one carrying this.”

I paused, letting the weight of my words sink in.

“Even Kenny had a hand in it. If he had done things in moderation, instead of taunting you for months with all those nonsense talks, maybe you wouldn’t have had any reason to feel less of yourself.”

He blinked hard, like he was fighting tears. “I should have been better. I should have protected him. He was like a brother to us all.”

“He was our brother, and for that, we will forever have him in our hearts” I said softly. “But blaming yourself won’t bring him back.”

Jude dropped his face into his hands again, shaking his head. “I don’t know how to live with this.”

I exhaled slowly. “We’ll live with it. We have to. That’s all we can do now.”

For a long time, we sat there in silence, two friends sitting in the middle of a broken friendship, holding the weight of a dead one between us.

Jude finally broke the silence. “We can’t stay here. If they come back, it’s over for us.”

I nodded slowly. “You’re right. Let’s move.”

He helped me pack a few things — my wallet, ID card, and a few clean clothes — then came back to lift me up. My legs were still too weak to carry me.

“You sure you can walk?” he asked.

“Walk?” I tried to smile but winced instead. “I can barely drag a step. Let’s just go before that idiot comes back to finish us off.”

He didn’t argue. He slid my arm over his shoulder and helped me out through the door. The cold night air hit my face like ice. I winced as it stung the wounds around my mouth.

He lowered me gently onto a small wooden bench by the corridor, then went back to lock my main door.

When he returned, he stopped and just stared at me for a moment. “Bro… your face looks bad. Real bad. You need treatment.”

I thought for a second, breathing through the pain. “There’s a small private hospital down the street,” I said weakly, pointing in the direction. “I helped them fix their toilet once. Let's go there. It's not far.”

He nodded quickly. “Good. That’s where we’re going.”

He lifted me again, slow and careful. Every step we took echoed in the quiet street.

And though the pain burned deep with every movement, one name kept flashing through my mind —
Baba T.

****

Cynthia was still by the closed POS stand, standing alone under the weak yellow streetlight.
Detective Kalu watched from a safe undetectable distance, half-hidden behind a danfo bus.
His right hand stayed deep inside his pocket, fingers resting on the cold metal of his pistol — just in case.

Minutes crawled by. No one came.
Kalu could see the worry growing on her face.
The garage was slowly getting quieter — not completely empty, but that kind of midnight quiet that makes your heart race.
.
Then suddenly, a bike light appeared from the far end of the road.
Its bright beam cut through the darkness.
Three people were on it — Kenny was the one riding, with Saipon and Cobra behind him, both wearing dark glasses.

Kalu’s eyes narrowed. “Who wears shades at night?” he muttered to himself.

At first, he thought they were the ones the lady had been waiting for.
But everything changed the moment Cynthia saw them.

Her eyes widened.
She froze for half a second. Then—she ran.

“Ah, damn,” Kalu hissed, springing into action.

The bike roared louder and started chasing after her.
The men behind shouted something Kalu couldn’t hear clearly — but it wasn’t good.
Cynthia took a sharp turn into a narrow street, kicking off her slippers as she ran faster.
The bike narrowed on her and one of the men grabbed at her polo — the cloth tore, but she slipped free and kept running.

They turned the bike around, still after her.
Kalu followed on foot, running hard.
He was fast, but not fast enough.
Even the lady was running faster than him, her fear fueling her legs.

They finally cornered her near an open space under an overhead bridge.
A few beggars lay sleeping there, wrapped in nylon sheets.
Cynthia stopped, breathing heavily, looking left and right. There was no way out.

The men jumped off the bike.
Kenny stepped toward her with a wicked grin.
“You killed my brother and think you can just run?” he spat, each word dripping with venom.

They thought she’d be easy.
Barefoot, wearing only a torn and a baggy jeans that hung loosely on her waist — she didn’t look like someone who could fight back.

But they were wrong.

Two of the men circled her, cutlasses glinting under the pale streetlight. Kenny stood behind, grinning, waiting for his turn. Cynthia’s chest rose and fell, sand clinging to her toes. She said nothing — just watched their hands, their feet, the way they shifted weight.

The first man charged. She twisted to the side, dodging the swing by inches, and drove her elbow straight into his ribs. He gasped, folding over as his weapon slipped from his hand. Before he could recover, she kicked the side of his knee — a quick, precise strike. He went down hard, yelling.

The second one didn’t wait. He came in with a wild swing. Cynthia ducked, feeling the blade brush through the air above her head, and swept her leg across the sand. He lost balance and fell backward. She jumped to her feet, breath sharp, and kicked his cutlass away before he could reach it.

Kenny hesitated — just a blink — but that was enough. Cynthia grabbed a broken bottle from the ground and aimed it at him, her hand steady despite the tremor in her breath. “Whoever comes next,” she said, voice fierce, “I swear to God, I go finish you.”

From the shadows, Kalu froze. His jaw tightened as he watched. A barefoot woman, fighting off cutlass-wielding men with nothing but instinct and old karate reflexes — it didn’t even seem real. He was about to make his move when headlights suddenly cut through the darkness, flooding the scene with harsh white light.

A black Pathfinder Jeep suddenly stopped with a loud screech.
Before anyone could move, a man dressed all in black jumped out and ran straight to Cynthia. He grabbed her by the arm.

Kalu frowned. “Who is that?” he said quietly.

The two men in dark glasses stopped right away. When they saw the man, they stepped back and bowed a little — like they respected him.

That told Kalu one thing — they knew who he was.

Then Kenny came out from behind the bike, breathing hard and looking confused. “Who’s this guy?” he asked, trying to go closer.

The man in black pushed him back and held Cynthia tighter. They spoke in low, angry tones. Then suddenly — PRAA! PRAA!
The two men in dark glasses gave Kenny two quick slaps on the back of his head.

Kenny stumbled and held his neck, shocked and embarrassed.

Then the back door of the Jeep opened again.
Another man came down — wearing a white vest and black shorts.

He said a few quiet words that Kalu couldn’t hear, then walked around the Jeep and took Cynthia from the man in black. He held her gently and helped her into the back seat.

That was when the streetlight shone on him — and Kalu froze.
He knew that walk.

The limp.
The same man from years ago. Circle's Assassin.

The Limping Man.

Before Kalu could even draw his pistol, the Jeep sped off into the night — engine growling, tyres screaming.

Saipon, Cobra, and Kenny remained.
Kalu could see them arguing.
Then Saipon pointed his cutlass at Kenny.
Cobra followed.
They were about to strike him down.

That’s when Kalu stepped forward.
He raised his voice — firm, commanding, police tone:

"Nigerian Police! Nobody move or I blow your skull open!”

His voice echoed under the bridge.
The beggars woke up, confused and shouting.
Saipon and Cobra looked at each other — then bolted into the darkness before Kalu could even cock his gun.

Kalu ran closer, but they were gone — vanished into the night.

Only Kenny was left, breathing hard, blood on his face and ego shattered.
Kalu stood there, eyes burning.

"Well, who do we have here?" He said to the bewildered Kenny.


To be continued

This story be like Hollywood movie...every episode gets more intense

Typicool8:
This story be like Hollywood movie...every episode gets more intense

how I wish they'd beaten that Kenny even more before Kalu stepped in...

Damnn



Crazy pen game🔥🔥🔥

See Kenny wey dey behave like Don. He would have met his Waterloo.

I am just refreshing this page waiting for new episodes. I am truly entertained.

Wow! That's all I can say. This has all the shades of a well-cooked action movie. Waiting awhile before reading was quite worth it.

TheBlessedMan, keep it up.

And I echo the thoughts of previous commenters that you've become so much better at this over time. Those days with COUNTLESS felt like children playing around aimlessly, compared to this. I remember giving up on the story at some point as I couldn't just make any sense of it...

BUT THIS?

let's just call it THE BOMB!

TheBlessedMAN:
longtime my boss... Seems you've been steady on this space all these while... I'm afraid nairaland literature section isn't what it used to be ....the engagement have died down. I think...

Yes it has really dwindled over the years ..as we no get another platform to compete with NL, na why we still dey here

TheBlessedMAN:
how I wish they'd beaten that Kenny even more before Kalu stepped in...

I swear the kind beating this big fool Kenny needs eehhh,I just tire for the guy sha😏,the way he turned on his friends so quickly Kai😤,so finally dect Kalu don see the link between Darous and the "limping assassin"🤔and it doesn't look for Darous 😏all this Darous friends done dey turn baggage ooo,
TBM baba,I dey feel you 🤗🤗🤗🤗💯

If there is something huge and powerful that have learnt in all this Kenny brouhaha ehn, it is think with your heard not your heart 😁😁😁,

Kalu for free style the guy make e collect the way Darous collect 😁😁. Anger sometimes do cloud some reasoning faculty in man's head ooo, but Kenny own too much 😁😁

But let's get something straight here, is this same chuks the limping man ni or what. Because according to the description of him, as of first character, he is a street incredulous nigga.


Abeg no scatter my head ooo.😁😁😁😁