*************
The galloping movement woke Jamal from his slumber. He looked around and found himself at the back seat of a moving vehicle with two passengers. They both wore deep blue suits and with low cut hair. The driver was a shade darker than his fellow. None of them looked like the guy that kept him hostage the previous day.
"Who are you people?" Jamal asked.
Silence. The only sounds were the low humming of the engine and air condition. The thought of jumping out of the car crossed Jamal's mind, a glance at the dashboard told him all he needed to know: 180 km/h. Death would be certain. For some reason, Chris crossed his mind. He knew his friend was good as dead at that time. He hadn't even seen or heard of him through his entire imprisonment. Jamal looked outside and saw an environment that looked nothing like Sanka or Abuja.
"Where are we?" he muttered, knowing no reply was forthcoming.
They were still driving by late afternoon. They made a stop at a restaurant and food was bought in takeaways. They went back to the car and continued their journey. That was when the driver talked. "A car would be waiting for you at the airport. Your flight has been taken care of."
"Where are you guys taking me to?" Jamal demanded.
"You will find answers at your location."
Jamal sighed. The panic has subsided over the last few days. He was coming to accept his fate.

***********
Chris opened his eyes. He had been lying in the small dark room for what he estimated to be two days and during those days he couldn't remember how he got there. He didn't know whether to be thankful for it or fearful. There were sounds of water hitting the sides of the entire house. And the weather was terribly cold. The blanket that kept his half-naked body warm was getting cold too. He turned his head to the left and saw a small table with plates on it. Food. His captors never forgot to bring food in. Three square meals. He rose up and went for the lights. He found a rain coat and jacket hung on the wall, they were not there before. He wore them and went for the food. Yam with scrambled eggs.
Ten minutes later there was a sharp knock on the door. The person didn't wait for a reply before barging in. Chris looked at the man. He was about six feet tall, squared jaw, clean shaven, and cold eyes. He was dark skinned too.
"I'll go straight to the point. You have been here for a 31 hours. We rescued you from people seemingly trying to kill you," the man said, his words clear. Chris nodded his head as the man spoke. "We could take you back to shore, or you can join us. We are people with certain objectives. You could be one of us."
Chris, head bowed, digested all the man had been saying without a word of his own. He looked up and smiled, "Not like there was ever a home for me to go back to."
"Good. You are on the Empire ship." The man nodded slightly. "We are the Monarchs. We are ghosts."
***********

Jamal had gotten used to the silent treatment. He had eaten breakfast that morning in silence, got to his room and met newly packed clothes in the wardrobe. He took the t-shirt and shorts, packed a few more in the travelling bag he saw, then headed to the transport waiting in front of the hotel. He checked the time as he approached the black Mercedes: 20.12 hrs. The thought of why the sudden change of events never skipped his mind on the road to the airport.
They arrived at the airport at 20.25 hrs. The driver, without a word as usual, walked to the check-in terminal and seconds later Jamal was in a plane to Japan. The only thing he was told was that a car would be waiting after he got to his destination.
Time check: 15:37 Asian Standard Time.
Jamal yawned as the vehicle left the airport area and sped on the highway. He couldn't even bother holding a conversation with the driver because the man only spoke in Japanese. They journeyed through what Jamal assumed to be Tokyo for almost an hour before the car stopped in front of an old building. It looked like a gym. The driver handed over a small bag to Jamal which he recognized to be the same as the one he saw in the small apartment of his first abductor. That seemed ages ago. Jamal collected it and checked it's contents: an international passport with the name Henry Layman and other identification papers in the same name. The OCCUPATION field read 'Accountant'. Jamal was astonished. In the bag was a small phone which rang as soon as Jamal saw it. He picked it soon after. A male voice spoke immediately.
"Stick to the script or you risk dying. You have to survive. Interpol are in search of a certain Henry Layman. He has been wanted for murder and drug trafficking across eleven countries."
"What the hell!" Jamal yelled into the phone only to realize the line had gone dead. He looked towards the old building then back at the driver. He stepped out, knowing he had to find a way out.
The door creaked open even before Jamal pushed it. The atmosphere felt damp and cold at the same time. The floor was littered in debris and dust. The lights dimmed while some flickered on and off therefore leaving portions of the room dark and casting shadows all over the place. Jamal suddenly saw someone standing in the middle of the old gym. He couldn't make out his clothes nor his appearance.
"Hello there," the man said, his hoarse voice echoing through the building.
"H-hello," Jamal stammered. "Please, who are you?"
The man was slowly moving closer.
"Hey, back off!" Jamal half-screamed, moving backwards. His back hit the wall with a thud.
The man was already in front of him. He sighed. "You have to survive, young man. And you can't do so with tactics like that."
"What…? Who are you?"
"I am a ghost."

wow me self na ghost

devilmaycry1:
wow me self na ghost

lol...thanks

Kelvin was thundering down the Abuja-Sanka express way at 200 km/h. He was an hour behind schedule and had to make up time. As soon as he passed the 'Welcome to Abuja' sign, he swerved left onto a worn out road that led west. It was rough and handling became difficult as he delved deeper.
An hour later he was in a small town. He easily identified the only tall building in the area and drove towards it. The roads seemed deserted with trash piled up on the roadside. The smell almost made him retch.
Kelvin drove into the small parking lot behind the four storey building. He checked the text on his phone and then the time: 21.47 hrs. He grabbed the bag next to him and headed for the backyard door. He pressed the button on his right -which made a loud beeping sound- and waited.
Forty seconds later the door clicked and opened by a crack. Kelvin saw a pair of eyes peek through the crack before the door was immediately swung wide open. The man stormed out, grabbing Kelvin in a tight hug. "Kelvin my boy!"
Kelvin couldn't reply. He was drowned in the stale smell of sweat and cheap beer.
Freddy was a friend of Kelvin's back in the military. He helped Kelvin settle in when things were tough and that created a bond between the two. His hefty body made him an intimidating figure but deep down Freddy had a heart of gold; that was why Kelvin could trust him.
"Hey…mate," Kelvin managed to say after finally being free. "Still haven't cut down on the drinking eh?"
Freddy's laugh was like thunder, echoing through the parking lot. "It calms my nerves when things get tweaky."
Kelvin sniffed. The sooner he convinced Freddy the faster he got out of that area. "Freddy, my employers got some work for you." He let that sink in for a moment, waiting for a reaction.
"What…?" Freddy said, losing the smile.
"The pay is pretty. Can get you out of the country, buy you some expensive sh*t…" Kelvin continued, looking straight into his friend's eyes. Trying to unsettle him.
Freddy hesitated for a while before gripping himself. He was not going to go cheap, not even for a friend. "Business means business, Kelvin. And it ain't cheap."
Kelvin scoffed. "That's why…" he raised the bag, "I didn't carry cheap luggage."
Freddy let out a cold laugh.
Kelvin raced through the highway, his gaze focused on the traffic light ten meters away then his watch again: 22:09 hrs. He smiled. He knew Freddy enough to know he'll get the job done.
Though a soldier, Freddy wasn't afraid of getting his hands dirty in times of need. He knew the underworld as well as he knew the outside. But what Freddy didn't know was that Kelvin was a step ahead of him.
***********

"A ghost?" Jamal almost laughed. He couldn't believe a serious looking man could've said something as ridiculous. But his joking tone faded when he saw the man staring blankly at him, almost in disbelief. "Sorry," he apologized.
The man ignored the apology. "Come on," he sounded bored. "We got to get you up and running in twelve. I'll lecture you on the vitals."
Jamal followed the man to the eastern side of the room, where the illumination was most scarce. He saw the man kneel down and started searching the floor. It took him just ten seconds to find what he was looking for and pushed his hand into the ground. The floor immediately gave way, revealing a small flight of stairs leading underground. Jamal followed in silence.
The stair landing led to a well-lit corridor, with metallic walls on both sides. The man beckoned Jamal to follow and they headed down. The only noise Jamal could hear were his own footsteps; the man's were silent, almost as if he were floating in midair. Jamal suppressed both the panic and the questions that suddenly bombarded his mind. At the end of the corridor was a small door to the left which was only visible when one came closer and paid attention. Jamal missed it, and could've thought the man had disappeared into the wall if he hadn't seen the door open. This led to another corridor, but this time the metallic walls were replaced with doors leading to rooms. Jamal counted twelve in total -six on both sides. Straight ahead the corridor opened into larger space. Jamal couldn't see what it contained.
"This is where you will call home," the man moved his arms around, then pointed at the first room on the left, "you stay in here."
Without any question, Jamal pushed the door open. He heard the man scoff behind him but ignored it.
The room was relatively comfortable enough for one person. It had a medium-sized bed on the right, a cupboard on the left, there was a study table in one corner with a rechargeable lamp and a laptop on it. In another corner was a big metal box, it went as high as Jamal's knees. It was locked with a padlock and Jamal saw no presence of a key. Jamal felt too tired to look around so he dropped his luggage and went to bed.

I read this story just now, more grease to your elbow... Please update the next one quick

Chris stared blankly at the man in front of him. What was he talking about?
"But I can see you?"
"Not that kind of ghost, young man."
"Then?" Chris shrugged. "I understand you guys didn't work so hard to get me here just to prank me." He saw the man's eyes narrow.
"You are a smart kid," the man was quick to admit. He didn't expect a stressed mind to figure that out so soon. It was no wonder the young man was recruited. He cleared his throat. "We are people who operate without leaving a trace. We value perfection. For that, only a handful of people know of our existence. Those who know about us pay top dollar for our services, and we never fail to deliver. In order to achieve that, of course, we need the best personnel." He paused, allowing Chris to digest his words.
There was a brief silence.
"Of course, we have an objective. We hold the key to a certain treasure. It's contents are a mystery, but there are many also in search of it. We have it's location, giving us the upper hand in the race."
Chris nodded in silence. It made sense. Then raised his head again, "You said there's a treasure and you have the key and location, right?"
The man nodded, "Exactly."
"Then why not open it? Use it. Win the race."
The man's face suddenly looked grim. "We are to protect it. It was told to us that there was a risk it will trigger another devastating war if it fell in the wrong hands. We cannot risk it."
"How many people are after it?"
"Too many to count. But the most dangerous are our rivals. The Peacemakers."
"Peacemakers. Some weird names you guys have," Chris muttered. "Then how do I know I'm on the right side?" He asked loudly.
"You don't. Because you are on the right side. Don't let names deceive you. They are brutal and would want to get their hands on it at all costs. They are tyrants."
"The treasure…what's it's name?" Chris asked.
"We don't know for sure. But it is known to us -and all that believe in it- as The Torpedo." The man's eyes went dark due to the effect of the lights.
Chris felt a dramatic chill run through his body.
*************

hmmm next

23:00 hrs.
The fighter pressed his opponent's face against the ring cage. Kelvin noticed his hands bulging as he did so. No doubt, the effects of steroids.
The crowded cheered at their champion. So did Gonzalo, a friend of Lopo's.
They sat in the front row of the arena which Kelvin estimated to hold five hundred people, comfortably. But some were sitting on the floor while the exit -the only one- was cramped with people pushing each other for a better view. Kelvin was seated in the middle column with Lopo to his left, followed by Debby, then Gabby and his girlfriend who Kelvin couldn't remember the name of. The last seat of that row was occupied by Gonzalo.
Gonzalo was a drug baron all the way from Colombia. His records were a sight for sore eyes: twenty arrests by the age of nineteen, five pending rape cases, three prison stints. His record was as bad as his appearance. His suntanned face was covered in pores at different sections, some of his tooth were missing. With that, he carried an arrogant aura around with him. Of course, with a stench of alcohol which was made even worse by use of cheap body spray.
Kelvin heard the fighter roar in response to the crowd and Gonzalo let out a choking laugh. "You see, mon amigos. Victor is a champ!" Kelvin heard his broken English shout over the noise of the crowd.
Lopo sank deeper in his seat. He lost yet another bet with that rat Gonzalo. "You!" He pointed at Kelvin. "Go show us your worth."
Kelvin blinked, his face betrayed no emotion. He straightened his suit. "Yes, sir."
The ring smelled of blood and sweat. Kelvin stood at arm's length from his opponent, Victor. Even at that distance, the man smelt terribly. Not only from sweating that night, but maybe a few nights before then.
"I'll…snap you!" Victor said, revealing brown set of teeth. His English was heavily accented with Russian.
He moved sharply. Kelvin's trained eyes didn't miss his movement though. The man jumped in for a takedown but Kelvin rolled out of the way, sending Victor crashing into the cage behind him. The crowd jeered. From the corner of his eye Kelvin saw Lopo shift a little.
Victor quickly recovered, his face betraying rage. He ran towards Kelvin again, trying the same move. Kelvin rolled out of the way but this time he expected that. He followed his opponent and grabbed him from the ground and swung him sideways like he weighed nothing.
For a moment Kelvin was airborne until his back crashed into the cage too, almost snapping a rib. He landed on the ground with a thud.
"Kill him! Kill him!!" The crowd roared.
Kelvin breathed, trying to control the pain and his shaky hand. The suit was slowing him down. "Sh*t!" He felt Victor looming closer. He was manhandled to his feet and a crunching blow landed on his stomach, almost lifting him off his feet.
"Ooowww!" The crowd roared again.
Victor threw Kelvin on the ground, taking his time. "I'll make it slow," he said, only Kelvin could hear him amidst the noisy crowd. "So even in death…you will remember me."
Kelvin breathed again. Then stood up and pulled off his suit jacket and tore off the shirt. "I'll like to see you try." He smirked. "Let's finish this."
**************

Thanks man, please update fast

wow

wow, amazing. i also found this story interesting here> A2SPOT STORIES

Jamal sat on the table in the corner, scanning through the files on the computer display. He had been going through them for almost a week. He understood that he was in a ghost organization whose bitter rivals were called The Monarchs and lots more.
He was going through the last file when a sharp knock came from his door. Without waiting for an answer, the door opened. "I see you are done with the history and stuff." It was Samad, one of the analysts who was designated to Jamal.
Samad was a nerdy-looking guy who was not more than twenty five. He had mastered three martial art styles, six computer languages, and trilingual. He had a thin frame, which Jamal suspected was enhanced by underfeeding. He rounded off all that by carrying a smile all the time.
"Yeah. After a week," Jamal replied.
Samad adjusted his round frame glasses. "It'll only get harder from here, until you are able to survive."
Jamal stood up and went to sit on the bed then pointed at the big box in the corner of the room. "What's in it?"
"You'll find out when the time comes, mate," Samad replied, his eyes trained on Jamal.
Jamal's eyes narrowed. He hated the bland answers and pretenses. "Bloody give me an answer. Is your name even Samad?!"
Samad pretended not to hear. "My coming here is to tell you we've found something interesting. A Monarch ship was spotted heading east." He pointed to a random direction. "And lucky for you, I was tasked to go check it out. And you are coming with."
"As if it changes anything," Jamal muttered.
"Well it'll give us time to bond. Teacher-student?" Samad smiled.
**************
"We are a few weeks to shore and you are already in good condition," the man said, leaning against the railing of the ship. "You are special, kid."
Chris stared at the horizon in the distance. They stood at the aft of the huge vessel. He had been going through different mental and physical exercises over the past weeks. He felt alive. He smiled for the first time that day.
"You never asked about the other crew in the ship," the man suddenly added.
"We'll meet at shore, won't we?" was the reply.
The man shrugged. "Probably." He paused, as if gathering his thoughts. "There are a few like you. They are not moving as fast as you are, but they are getting there."
"What if they don't make it."
There was a pause. The man stared ahead. "We'll find other use for them."
"Like?"
"Field soldiers. Pawns."
The waves suddenly started getting higher and the wind blew stronger. Chris tasted sea water in his mouth. He looked at the sky. "More rain."
"Yup. Moving on sea isn't a walk in the park, kid," the man replied, using his hand to shield his eyes from the spray.
"We should get inside," Chris suggested, having to raise his voice as the waves started to roar.
A few minutes later Chris was in the warmth of his room. The lights flickered on and off at intervals. Probably the storm, he thought. Then everywhere went dark.
************

I think they're gonna meet soon

pacifust058:
I think they're gonna meet soon

yeah....in a matter of time

hmmm

Kelvin stood at the centre of the ring, his fists and body dripping with blood that he knew was not his. In fact, the whole crowd knew it wasn't his. He looked at the ghastly figure lying on the floor a few paces away from him. One half of his face was covered in blood and the other in brain matter. He was dead, in ten minutes.
The silence around the arena was in direct contrast to what it was when Kelvin was being manhandled and pummeled.
He heard someone clapping.
He turned around to see Lopo on his feet, grinning. The crowd soon joined in too but Kelvin's attention was on that one man. Lopo looked elated and Kelvin knew why: the money won was substantial.
Time check: 22:55 hrs.
About one-fifty metres away from the arena in the southern district of The Den, four figures clad in black clothing crouched in the dark around a building. Their movements were perfectly blanketed by the night. They moved to the northern side of the arena in silence, assault rifles engaged and ready.
There were two guards located there, smoking with their backs to them. Without any word, two of the men in black rushed forward and put them down. They continued around the building, moving quickly and silently. One of them, a hulking figure of more than six feet, raised his hand in a gesture: wait. They all stood still. He brought out a small round-shaped device -the size of a DVD disk but about three inches thick- and stuck it on the wall while the other three spread around him about ten metres apart to provide cover. He punched in a few things on the device and it beeped before stepping back a few metres. He raised five fingers.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
A very silent explosion ensued -not more than a coughing sound- and a huge portion of the wall crumbled. In a matter of seconds they were all in and running down a corridor. The noise of the crowd boomed through the corridor, signifying they were very close.
The team finally reached the end of the corridor, which continued down to the right. They dropped their backpacks, equipped the gas masks fitted with NV googles then silencers for their assault rifles. They were ready in forty seconds.
They headed down the corridor, the hulking figure -the squad leader- following second.
Sudden movement to the left, a guard possibly coming out of the bathroom. A single shot to the chest. The noise was getting louder. For the first time they spoke, "Target ahead," said the squad leader. There was a reply over his earpiece, "Copy that. Chopper on the way. ETA fifteen minutes." The line clicked.
"You hear that?" the squad leader whispered. "We've got ten minutes to get the target."
They all nodded copy and headed downstairs.
"You're going to be of great asset to me," Lopo whispered to Kelvin as he took his seat near him. His voice audible even with the crowd noise.
Kelvin's glare was ostensible. "Of course."
"I need you to take care of that South American for me," Lopo's eyes glinted in the light. "Tonight."
"He's your friend, isn't he?"
"It wasn't a demand, it's an order."
Kelvin shrugged.
Suddenly there was shouting coming from behind the caged ring. White smoke filled the atmosphere which Kelvin immediately knew was tear gas. It's about time, he smirked. He could hear the guards falling to the ground as the men in black flooded in. He counted two but knew there'll be more.
"Get the f*ck down!" They shouted.
Most of the crowd were already heading for the door. Kelvin saw Gonzalo somewhere in the middle of the bodies crowded by his bodyguards. He quickly pulled out his pistol and followed suit. He brought out a small earpiece and plugged it to his ear. "I've got sights on Target Blue."
"Roger that. We've got Target Red covered." Was the reply.
Kelvin looked over his shoulder and saw two more people in black joining the commotion, assault rifles in hand. Then Lopo and his men using the seats as cover. He looked ahead and pushed his way through the thick crowd, planning his approach as he did.
He reached outside just in time to see Gonzalo climbing into the passenger side of a black Range Rover with three of his men providing cover. Their substandard training didn't detect him on time.
Kelvin raised his weapon and released four consecutive shots: one to the rear right tyre and three accurately landing on the men. As expected, Gonzalo tried making a run for it but Kelvin had it covered, sending another accurate shot to the upper thigh region. He saw Gonzalo's jaw stretched in a scream, drowned in the sounds of people's shouts.
"Target Blue apprehended. Repeat, Target Blue apprehended," he shouted into the earpiece.
"Target Red also apprehended. Chopper en route. ETA one-twenty seconds."
Kelvin ran to the man, who was trying to crawl his way. He dragged him by the bad leg, generating another round of screaming and groaning. He dragged Gonzalo to a standing position and smashed him head first into the window of his vehicle, knocking him out.
*************

Wow... Please update first

The silence was deafening. Chris could almost hear his own heart beat. The only noise came from the constant crashing of the waves against the hull of the ship.
The door was swung open and three silhouettes stood abreast. Chris could only make out the one in the middle, his usual companion.
The man was the only one who moved. He approached Chris and bowed slightly. "These people will escort you to the destination."
Chris' voice carried all the confusion he felt. "Why? What's going on suddenly?"
Silence.
"We've been detected. The lights had to be cut out to provide stealth for some time. But not for long."
"Detected," Chris said, trying to subdue the sudden panic. "By who?"
"We suspect Peacemakers. We'll provide a diversion for a while to allow you lot to escape." The man had turned around to leave by now and the two other people entered. A lightning flashed and Chris saw they were clad in brilliant white overalls. Their faces still hidden by the darkness. One of them stood behind him and the other in front. Chris saw a sudden movement, but was too late to react. He immediately felt himself drifting into unconsciousness.
"Protect him at all costs," the man at the door said.
"Are you sure he's the one?" The one behind Chris asked.
"There's only one way to find out."
*************
Time check: 17:00 hrs.
The sun had just started setting around the horizon, giving off a bright red appearance on the sky nearby.
The taxi stopped in front of an old two storey building overlooking the road. Kelvin stepped out and in a few seconds was knocking at the rickety wooden door. There was a shuffling sound as someone unlocked it from the inside and it was opened. A short stocky man stood in the doorway, the fruity smell of his expensive perfume hit Chris' nose. The man looked rather tired. He clumsily walked back to the reception desk and Kelvin followed at a distance. Just to be careful.
"Room four," Kelvin said when the man raised a questioning brow, then cleared his voice. Kelvin saw the bulge of a gun in his cheap suit.
The steps creaked under Kelvin's weight as he headed upstairs, carefully. The Sundown Motel was known to be home of unfriendly guests. The air smelt of different things all at once: sweat, beer, toilets, disinfectants. Kelvin felt for his silenced weapon when he was five metres away from Room Four. He could hear rustling sounds behind the door and occasional moans. He knocked lightly and started counting.
Ten seconds. A groan. He knocked again, this time a little harder.
Twenty seconds. Nothing.
Forty seconds later, "Who the f*ck's that?" A grumpy voice said. Kelvin didn't reply. He listened.
Moments later the door flung open but Kelvin had already anticipated it and pressed his back against the wall to his left. A shot rang in the air, hitting the wall opposite the room. There was a scream nearby. He could hear the shooter moving slowly towards the entrance. As soon as his gun hand appeared Kelvin grabbed it, tugging it's owner and sending him crashing at the opposite wall, disarming him in the process. The man wore only trousers. His face was bearded, light skin and thin body was muscular. He looked to be in his late twenties. Kelvin steadied his pistol at the man's abdominal area. He had already picked the other gun and removed the magazine.
"What do you want?" the man asked, Hausa accented.
Kelvin simply made a gesture with his gun which they both understood: get inside. The man rose and slowly strode inside the room, hands in the air. Kelvin made sure to lock the door behind them and switched on the lights. The room was lightly furnished: A medium bed, wardrobe, cheap rug and small television. Groaning air-conditioning.
"Where's the girl?" Kelvin asked?
"What girl?"
"The f*cking girl!"
The man looked warily at Kelvin, then whistled. A n*ked girl slowly appeared from the corner of the room, probably the toilet or kitchen. She looked very familiar but Kelvin had no time for that. His eyes swept the room one more time, just to be sure. He pointed the gun at the girl, "Get on the bed." She looked terrified. "Now!"
"What the f*ck kinda person are you, man?" The man shouted, earning him a heavy punch to the stomach. He doubled up in pain, landing heavily on his knees.
The girl was on the bed, curling into a ball on her side. Still pointing the gun at her, "Clear the bed. Get the sheets off," Kelvin ordered. "Now, lie with your face down." He heard a whimper -or was it a sob- coming from her but she obeyed. He knew she wasn't a threat, but had to be wary. Now he turned to the man, who looked like he had something up his sleeve. Just to be sure, Kelvin used the butt of the pistol on his head. The man fell on his back, head in hands, groaning in pain. Kelvin bent down near him. "I've got no time to waste," he breathed. "You know something about the Torp?"
Silence.
"I know no such thing," the man said.
Kelvin chuckled. "I didn't waste my time locating you, did I?"
The man sat up, one hand still caressing the lump forming on his head. "You probably did."
Kelvin shook his head, then pulled out a cellphone from his jacket pocket. He pressed a number then put it on speaker and there was sound of phone ringing. When it clicked, "He wants proof."
A pause.
A female voice. An aging person. "A….Amir," she stammered. "Kai ne -is that you?"
"Mama!" The man exclaimed, looking frightened.
"Ka gaya musu abun da suke so -tell them what they need," she sobbed. "Dan-"
Kelvin hung up.
Amir gave him an acidic glare. "Motherf*cker!"
Kelvin shrugged, "Either way, you tell me what I need to know."
He saw the man swallow.
"Start. Before I change my mind."
*************

Want to use this chance to thank you all for the support; the ones dropping comments and those who only drop by. I won't have come this far without you guys. Thanks and stay frosty. Next post around the corner.

Thanks for the update, keep it up

The speedboat burned up the distance and disappeared into the horizon. Jamal watched the sun rise from his right, eastwards. All Jamal did was read and read. He had learned not to complain or make sly comments.
"Thirty knots to the island," Samad had announced. "Hold on tight now, mate." That was all the talk he could remember hearing throughout the journey.
Now they were on land; an island. Jamal scanned around. The trees were spaced, making visibility easy. A double-edged sword, he thought. He saw his companion's eyes also sweeping the area, no doubt his mind too.
"So what do you think?" Samad asked, still scanning the area and adjusting his glasses.
"First, I think your glasses are fake," Jamal pointed his index finger in the air. Then another finger to make two, "two. We are in Aokigahara, also known as the Suicide Forest or Sea of Trees. Northwest of Mount Fuji. Ill-famed for being a suicide location."
Samad nodded. "Good. It's the perfect training spot. If you can't survive, well…" he made a cutting gesture around his neck.
"That's not going to put me off."
"Tell me that tomorrow morning," Samad scoffed. "Let's get going."
They packed their backpacks containing basic equipment needed and headed into the treacherous forest.
Jamal and Samad had been walking for ninety minutes, at least by Jamal's calculations. The trees had covered the rays of the sun, giving the forest a ghostly appearance and making it difficult to tell the time.
"Careful where you step," Samad whispered. He moved five metres ahead. The easiest targets to take down are those who are closely together, he had told Jamal since day one.
"Traps all over the place," Jamal said, "I know."
"One can't know too much, or might end up knowing nothing," Samad replied. "This place was buzzing with tourists and such once upon a time. Now…"
"Cutthroat locals?"
"And other things."
"Like what?"
"Best we don't find out, mate." Then he pointed to the right, "see that?"
Jamal followed the hand. About twenty-five metres ahead the land was steep, about ten feet high, covered with overgrowth. But between the level ground and the apex of the slope, about three feet from the ground, there was a black hole. It was just about two feet in height and a bit less in width.
"The prefect hideout," Samad whispered.
Jamal brought out a compass from his person, to mark their location, but was stopped by a sharp wave of the hand by Samad. "It's useless. Directions in this place are messed up, sort of."
"So, what now?" Jamal asked.
"We scout the area. Five klicks radius for today."
Jamal nodded.
"In case you have visuals on any hostiles, do not engage," Samad added. "We put all the theories you've learnt to the test here, but there might be no second chances."
Jamal nodded again. He saw Samad rummage through his backpack and brought out two small radio devices and handed one to him. "Made them myself. Closed channel. Nobody can intercept except with the same configuration. We move in two. In case you get lost, this is our RV spot. Copy?"
"Copy that." Jamal said.
*************

Nice one, please add more soon

wow nice feed me more

General David sat behind his desk, taking drags from his cigar. Faruk sat in front of him. The two of them had been busy addressing the media and government officials alike about the capture of two very dangerous criminals. They stood in the spotlight, heads held high.
"Foreign investors have been pouring in ever since," Faruk said, breaking the silence.
David took another drag. "Bloody ass*s. They were hoping to see us fail."
"I think we can do with some extra income, don't you think? Strengthen the boys a bit more."
David looked at him and laughed. "Always the diplomat, aren't you?"
Faruk poured them a drink and they both lifted their glasses in a toast.
"To progress," David said.
"To progress," Faruk replied, their glasses clucking.
After gulping down the contents of his glass, Faruk spoke, "Don't you think it was a bit too easy?"
"What was?" David replied as he set his glass down.
The atmosphere immediately changed to a serious one.
"The capture. Many people tried to no avail. Suddenly…" he flicked his fingers "they are caught out of the wind by what, five men?"
Their was a brief silence.
David's eyes narrowed. Faruk could tell he also had the same thought cross his mind. He puffed his cigarette again before he spoke. "You have it covered?"
"Of course."
"Good. I don't tolerate insubordination. Even if it were to be from my own son," the General said in a dangerous monotone.
"My contacts would have Kelvin in their sights at all times. They'd be ready to nail him if he goes off script." Faruk was already standing up.
"I know it's difficult for you," David said. "It had happened in the past."
Faruk sniffed. "Jamal was collateral damage."
"I was not talking about Jamal," General David also stood up, his imposing figure almost covering the whole window behind him. "I was talking about your brother."
Faruk stiffened but hoped not to make it obvious. He stared at the huge silhouette in front of him.
***********
Chris watched as one of his escorts scanned around using binoculars. He checked the display on his digital wristwatch: 20:25 hrs. It had been three difficult days since they left the ship. Intense training and hunting during the day, then recons and stuff during the night with little sleep.
"We make camp here for tonight," the other one said as he brought out the tent and stakes.
"We are fifty kilometres north of Mount Fuji," said the one wielding the binoculars. "We shall reach it in…" he checked the binoculars again, "fifty, sixty hours?"
"Why Mount Fuji?"
The one doing the tents paused to answer, "It provides the proper environment for survival. Especially with the locals roaming around, you'll learn faster."
"Have you guys got any names?" Chris asked again. He had been listening; none of them addressed each other by name.
The tent one lit a small rechargeable torch, illuminating his facial features: slick black hair, sharp brown eyes, pronounced cheekbones, brown skin. He was nothing more than twenty-three. "Call me Zapper." He saw the look of confusion on Chris' face, "because I zap people."
They all laughed.
They all entered the three-metre-by-four tent to prepare for the night.
The light shone on their faces and Chris glanced at the other one. He looked a bit heftier than Zapper, light skin, crew cut black hair, with a beard covering the lower part of his face. He carried an air of calm and authority. By estimation, he was about twenty-seven. He caught Chris' stare. "Yeah, I'm Eric."
Zapper rummaged through some things, "Now that the introduction is out of the way, let's eat some chow." He brought out three cans of food and distributed one to each. "This area's full of whatnot eh?"
Eric grunted.
"Yeah," Chris replied. "Could've swore I saw a ghost last night. Had my scope trained on it."
"Why didn't you shoot?" Zapper asked.
"Last ditch effort. Couldn't confirm the shite."
"You're adjusting fast to the bangs and rolls of our operation," Zapper grinned, extending a knuckle.
"Man's got to grow up, right?" Chris replied, bumping fists with Zapper.
"I'm off for recon," Eric announced. "Four klicks towards Fuji." He added as he picked his gun and headed out.
Since they landed on the island, they took advantage of the night to scout the road ahead, setting waypoints.
"Guy's weird," Chris whispered.
"The best brain in Monarchy," Zapper smiled. "Rumour has it Eric's seen things nobody can dream of. Trusts his gun a whole lot more than he does his b*lls."
Chris took out his own pistol and started dismantling it, slowly. He could've done so in fifteen seconds, but wanted to keep his hands busy.
"In the Monarchy," Zapper said, "we proud ourselves of having the best sharpshooters."
Chris looked up at him. He saw a serious face.
"So far, none has surpassed my record of hitting an apple in the air from one point five."
Chris shrugged, "one point five what?"
Zapper leaned closer. "Miles."
A pause.
"That's impressive."
"Yeah. That's why we're here. To drill it in you," Zapper took Chris' gun as he talked. "And to do that, you have to be good with not only silenced weapons, but loud ones as well."
"Why all the effort?" Chris asked.
"We believe you play an integral role in the Torpedo game. Get some sleep. Eric can cover more ground in an hour than a herd in five." With that, he returned the gun to Chris.
**************

Thanks for the update bro

*************
A man stood on the roof of a building thirty-five metres away from C.T Securies. He was dressed in a black leather jacket and wore a gas mask. In his left hand was a high powered line launcher. He scanned the floors, looking for exits and less guarded areas. He raised his left hand and aimed steadily at the roof of the building then let fly when he was comfortable enough.
He pulled out a radio from his jacket and spoke into it, his voice muffled by the mask. "Lines are ready. Roof of the building."
A few seconds later a voice crackled, "We'll be there in about twenty?"
Inside the building on the ground floor, three people dressed in grey business suits walked up to the elevator. It opened as soon as one of them pressed a button. "Lucky us," he breathed.
"Lines are ready for us," said another, his voice posh.
The third stared at the camera as the elevator moved. "Cameras are down. Looks like our source was right."
"He'd better be," said the first. "Or I'd bury him myself."
"Let's not count our eggs before they hatch, shall we?" Said the one with the posh voice.
Shorty after, the elevator dinged. A security guard stepped in without even a glance at them.
"Night shift?" asked the third guy.
The security guard looked over his shoulder to answer. That was all the men needed. He felt a vice grip around his neck and hands somewhere on his body searching for something: his keycard. He made to fight back but fell to the floor with a thud. And a broken neck.
"Our eggs are hatching," said the first guy, as he casually crossed the dead body and walked through the empty corridor. "Control room should be on this floor."
The elevator doors closed with the other two still in it.
"Karim seems excited tonight," the one with the posh voice said without looking at his companion.
"Just hope he doesn't mess things up. It's just his third mission with us," replied the other.
Posh voice looked at the floor in dictator. "Shall we?"
Without answering, the other guy punched in some digits on the elevator pad and a few minutes later, it halted.
Just then, Karin's voice crackled from the radio in posh voice's hand, "in position."
The other two immediately started removing their clothing; revealing all black costumes beneath the suits. They checked their weapons and proceeded to open the hatch at the top of the elevator. After landing on it, they started climbing the ropes.
Karim sat behind the computers in the control room. He glanced at the three corpses stacked in the corner of the room. They looked perfectly fine except that they were dead. He hated messy killings that involved blood being spilled.
He got back to work, typing in a chain of commands directly into the C.T Server.
"They boast about having the best security!" He scoffed. Different windows and warnings appeared on the screens as he worked. "Alright boys. Moment of truth. Target is in the cell."
"Copy that," replied the third guy as he scanned up and down the corridor while posh voice got to work on the terminal using the stolen keycard. "Be fast, Tony!" He whispered.
"F*ckers didn't connect the security doors to the same server," Tony whispered back. His face was already dripping in sweat.
"You've got company!" Karim announced. "West side."
Tony watched the other one quickly run along the corridor. Shortly after gunshots filled the air.
"Sh*t!"
"Tony, get the bloody door open!" He heard the third's voice from around the corner.
He twisted the card one more time and the terminal lit up green. "Finally," he muttered.
The man on the roof top paced up and down. It had been twenty minutes already but still no sign of his team. He was about to decide on going in himself when he saw Tony on the roof, closely followed by a dark skinned man in stained vest. It took a while -an probably some threatening- before the man agreed to zipline down the rope.
The man pulled out his radio again, this time switching to another channel. "Target secured. I repeat, target secured."
A voice crackled, "Good job. Bring him to me."
By then Lopo had crashed on the roof. He breathed heavily from exhaustion and starvation. His face looked bruised in the moon-lit night.

Apologies to followers for the long periods and the last update. I rushed it to meet up with schedule. Stay classy.

wow nice ghost

zhayyd039:
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.

I was enjoying your story still am, though I'm still at the beginning. I saw your initial comment about cultural differences but let me say this
I was shocked when I read "Nigerian army" in this part of the story. Their conversation was totally American. I am not in the army but I am sure our soldiers don't speak like that. That's not being against cultural differences, that's cultural misplacement.
Sorry if I was too harsh.