Town, Somewhere Near New Lagos City...
Tayo softly placed his cup on the table. The idle chatter that filled the room was like an opera designed to serenade him. The whoosh of the ceiling fan provided the accompanying melody that shut out the voice in his head.
He sat in the corner of the café with his hood up. This peculiarity made him stand out in the restaurant, but he did not care. His fingers curled around the rough surface of the ceramic cup, its contents still half-full.
He didn't drink it anymore.
It tasted like mud. Everything he ate, tasted like mud now.
His gaze was fixed on the three men seated a few tables away. They were locals, rough-faced and wary-eyed. Men like them could be found in every town—too loud and bold. Their conversation had caught his attention.
"You see the bodies dem find for Old Quarter last night?" one of them asked. His voice was low, but you could sense the unease with which he spoke.
("You see the bodies they found at Old Quarter last night?")
"Yeah," said another, his face lean with a rough beard creeping up his jaw. "Same as the last ones. Dem dry like fish wey dem forget for sun. Person wey see dat kind thing go fear."
("Yeah. Same as the last ones. They're dried up like fish left in the sun. Anyone who sees that kind of thing would be afraid.")
"Na dem gang boys dey do am," the third man said, his tone hard like he was convincing himself. "Dem don get new weapon, one wey fit suck person life comot like straw."
("It's the gang boys doing it. They've got a new weapon that can suck a person's life out like a straw.")
"Which kind new weapon be dat? You no dey think?" the first one scoffed. "If na weapon, everybody for don dey talk am."
("What kind of new weapon is that? Don't you think? If it were a weapon, everyone would be talking about it.")
"I dey tell you, e fit be one glitch wey escape enter town," the bearded man said, his eyes darting like he expected one to crawl out of the shadows.
("I'm telling you, it might be a Glitch that escaped and came to town.")
"Which Glitch get sense to dey plan kill like dis?" the third man shot back, folding his arms.
"Glitch dey suck energy, abi no be so?" he responded, convinced of his assessment.
(" Glitches suck energy, isn't that true?")
"Dem just dey move around like mumu. This one na message."
("What Glitch has the sense to plan killings like this? They just roam around like fools. This one is a message.")
Tayo leaned back as he listened.
Most of the townspeople kept to themselves, sipping drinks, eating their meals, or scrolling on worn-out devices. He glanced down at his cup, swirling the murky liquid inside.
"Message, huh?" he muttered quietly, his fingers tapping the ceramic rhythmically. He knew exactly what had caused those bodies to end up like that. He knew it because he'd done it.
The memories burned sharp in his mind. They'd come at him with knives and clubs, thinking he was another one of the weak they could beat on. They didn't expect to find a monster.
The fights had not been clean or elegant—just raw violence. They'd swung. He'd flickered.
His body pulsed with an electric thrum, his hands moving on their own. He remembered the feel of the energy flowing into him; the feeling was euphoric.
His eyes twitched. He felt his fingers tighten on the cup.
"Easy," he whispered to himself.
He released the cup slowly, exhaling a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
His thoughts drifted to Zion—the boy he'd left at the SAR Company's charity. Zion was smart. Having gone through a tragedy like this, he would definitely know how to comport and hide himself.
Zion would be safe there, or at least safer than with him. But the guilt of leaving him behind still clung to him.
'What do you think he's doing now?' the voice in his head asked.
His thoughts had drifted and become unfocused, allowing the voice which had now become his companion to take center stage.
"Doesn't matter," Tayo muttered.
'Doesn't it, though?'
He refused to answer. The voice had been growing louder over the past week. It whispered at the edges of his thoughts, its presence like a weight pressing against his mind. He had no name for it, but he knew it had something to do with that broken world he'd seen.
It had to.
Every time he pushed his powers too far, every time he drained too much from someone, the world around him stuttered, and for an instant, he was there—in that broken sky, under twin moons and an endless meteor storm.
His stomach twisted at the thought of it.
He pushed the thoughts aside, dropped a few crumpled notes on the table, and left the café.
…
…
The air outside was foggy. The sun had long since dipped behind the buildings, casting long shadows through narrow alleyways.
He kept his head down as he walked. The cold that permeated the town didn't bother him as much as it used to. His body now handled it differently.
The crunch of his boots against the dirt road was the only sound for a while as he walked toward the one-room shack, he rented with money taken from his first victims.
"Hey, Hood Boy!"
He paused for a second as he considered whether it was worth it before he continued his walk. If he went at it again, he would have to leave town.
"You dey hear me?" came the shout as footsteps echoed behind him.
"Na you we dey call, abi you deaf?"
("We're calling you, or are you deaf?")
Tayo stopped. Slowly, he turned to face them. Three men. Not the same three from the café, but the same type. Their faces carried the same predatory look.
"You be stranger, abi?" one of them said, twirling a switchblade between his fingers. "Stranger go pay tax, na the law be that."
("You're a stranger, right? Strangers pay taxes. That's the law.")
The man flicked the blade once, a sharp, metallic click echoing in the night.
"Drop wetin you get, and we go let you waka with your leg complete," another sneered, his grin as sharp as the blade.
("Drop what you have, and we'll let you walk away with your legs intact.")
Tayo tilted his head, shadows from his hood obscuring his eyes. His heart pulsed once. The world slowed just a fraction.
"Last chance, guy," the man with the blade warned, stepping forward. "Drop wetin you carry before I vex."
("Last chance, man. Drop what you have before I get angry.")
Tayo raised a hand. The man flinched, expecting something wild. Instead, Tayo pointed at him like a taunt.
"No," he answered.
The man's face turned red from the humiliation as he growled in anger and lunged.
Tayo's heart pulsed. His body flickered.
He popped back into existence behind them.
"Ah! Wetin be dat?!" one of them gasped, spinning around to the translucent skin that made up the side of Tayo's face.
("What is that?!")
Tayo's eyes glowed faintly blue. His fingers curled into a fist.
"Run," he said softly, his voice almost kind.
"Na juju be dis oh!" one of them shrieked, taking a shaky step back.
("This is witchcraft oh!")
They didn't listen. They never did.
The next few seconds were a blur. They rushed him, wild and furious. But he flickered, dodging each swing, his movements too quick, too unpredictable. He countered them easily.
A flicker—a punch to the ribs.
A flicker—an elbow to the jaw.
His senses were sharp and he was ridiculously fast.
"Abeg, abeg! No kill me! I no wan die! Abeg!" the man fell to his knees, his hands up in surrender. ("Please, please! Don't kill me! I don't want to die! Please!")
Tayo crouched to his level, his eyes locked onto the man like he was peering into his soul. The cold, blue glow of his eyes made his face look inhuman, something from a nightmare.
"Shhh," he whispered.
He pressed his palm against the man's chest. His fingers dug in slightly, just enough to feel the man's heartbeat—a sudden, desperate thrumming beneath his palm. Tayo's fingers curled slowly as the man's eyes widened in shock. His scream came too late. Energy rushed through Tayo's veins like pure electricity, filling him with warmth, power, and that euphoria that always followed.
The man gasped, body going stiff. His skin shriveled before their eyes, his cheeks hollowing, lips cracking as his body withered.
Seeing this, the last gang member bolted down the street.
Tayo's gaze snapped toward him. The man didn't make it far.
The only sound left was the low hum of the energy still thrumming in Tayo's veins. His hands twitched, flexing as he glanced at his palm, watching the faint blue glow flicker between his fingers.
He sucked in a sharp breath as his vision darkened at the edges. Everything dimmed as though someone had cut their power.
The euphoria he felt vanished as he opened his eyes to find himself in that place again.
The broken world. Planets hanging in the sky. The black hole. The meteor shower. Twin moons watching.
His heart sank.
"Not again," he muttered.
He had been transported to this place three times in the last two weeks, and every time, all he could do was walk, and walk.
It also did not help that he had to fight the voice for control in this place as it tried to take over his body. Every time, he ended up in a state of half-control as he followed the call of something in the distance.