"Go back."
Tony kept repeating those words to himself.
Lanre had a trip scheduled for this evening.
There was still a chance he could miss it.
A small chance.
But Tony had learned long ago that hope was simply gambling with disappointment.
He knelt before a roadside kiosk.
Or more accurately, before the old woman sitting beside it.
Madam Kike.
Grandmother to that archaeologist.
The woman wore a green iro and buba with a white scarf loosely wrapped around her head. The fabric hung low enough to hide her eyes.
Perhaps outsiders weren't meant to see what was underneath.
"Hail the First Blood," Tony greeted.
Who in their right mind had something better to do than stand in Madam Kike's presence?
Apparently everyone.
The street was silent.
Too silent.
The five men standing around her didn't help.
White danshikis.
Expressionless faces.
Metal rods resting against their shoulders.
Each rod ended in a steel sphere roughly the size of a fist.
Bodyguards of the Olatunji clan.
As they should be.
"Thank you."
Her voice sounded like a phone call with poor network reception.
She opened the biscuit she had purchased.
"These were bigger in my time."
Tony nodded.
"Things were cheaper too."
He shifted his weight from his knees to his toes.
"Best era by far."
Did she smile?
Hard to tell.
The biscuit covered half her face.
Maybe he should push further.
"Did you know..."
Tony lowered his voice dramatically.
"...it used to be six."
The guards shifted.
Tony heard it.
Somehow their clothes made more noise moving than standing still.
"Now it's three."
"Three?" Madam Kike echoed.
"Three."
He nodded seriously.
"Only three."
She frowned.
The wrapper crinkled.
"Doesn't even taste that good."
"Exactly!"
Tony pointed toward the kiosk.
Past the peanuts.
Past the milk.
Past the chin-chin.
Toward the freezer.
"Sachet water. Fifty naira."
"Liar."
"No lie."
"Something I bought for five naira?"
"Five naira is ancient language now."
"So am I."
"Yes-"
Tony froze.
Was that banter?
Or had he just insulted her?
His survival instinct immediately suggested both.
Madam Kike swallowed another biscuit.
"Adeleye Tony."
His spine straightened.
"First son of the Adeleye clan."
Her voice remained calm.
"Did you know your sister is being married off to my son?"
Tony's chest tightened.
"We are grateful to oga for taking us in."
His palms pressed together.
"Very grateful."
Madam Kike nodded.
"In fact, she is already expecting."
Tony stopped breathing.
"But... they never..."
"Why wait for a ceremony when the night already exists?"
She stretched out one hand.
A guard immediately helped her cross the gutter.
Tony remained kneeling.
His teeth sank into his lower lip.
Hard.
The taste of blood appeared.
Don't feel.
Don't react.
Don't feel.
If he lashed out here, his family would suffer for it.
He was the head of the Adeleye clan.
A title that apparently meant learning how to choke on rage politely.
Madam Kike glanced back.
Saw everything.
The clenched jaw.
The trembling hands.
The blood.
And smiled.
"Good."
She resumed walking.
"You still possess some self-respect."
Then she jerked two fingers upward.
"Get up. We have more to discuss."
Tony rose immediately and followed.
"Wipe that off."
He dabbed at his mouth using the hem of his shirt.
His lip throbbed.
"You cannot keep looking as though you're not responsible for your family's current condition."
The guards walked silently around them.
"How does a child fail a succession ritual?"
Madam Kike continued.
"It's unheard of."
The street remained unnaturally quiet.
Shops were open.
Salons were operating.
People sat outside.
Nobody spoke.
Even hawkers had abandoned their trays to sit quietly by the roadside.
Ten seconds passed.
Then twenty.
Only footsteps remained.
For a brief moment Tony genuinely wondered whether the guards were spirits,
but since they made sound...
"My head no too good like that," he finally muttered.
"You know, marriage fit help me too."
Nothing.
"Our cartel go close soon."
Still nothing.
The silence refused to cooperate.
They stopped before a duplex nearly identical to every other house on the street.
One of the guards knocked.
Madam Kike looked at Tony.
"Do you know this house?"
"Ajayi Subomi."
He nodded.
"One of our clients."
"A client died under her watch."
One guard pressed his ear against the door.
Then held up three fingers.
Madam Kike nodded.
"Proceed."
The guard's stance changed instantly.
Like a baseball player preparing a swing.
His metal rod drew backward.
His irises glowed yellow.
BAM!
The front door exploded inward.
Wood shattered.
The door sailed across the sitting room. He guessed inside was far to dark to see anything.
The guards entered immediately, dragging their rods across the floor. They all brandished yellow Irises
Metal scraped concrete.
Tony swallowed.
Madam Kike continued walking as though this happened every Tuesday.
Which, to be fair, it probably did.
"Have you decided regarding the Assistant Manager's offer?"
Tony hesitated.
Then shook his head.
"In exchange for your services, you'll inherit his position."
A pause.
"I might even arrange-"
"Yes."
The answer came immediately.
Tony surprised himself.
"I go do am."
Madam Kike stopped.
Adjusted her scarf.
And hissed softly.
Disappointment.
Actual disappointment.
Tony's stomach dropped.
"Shey I offend, Madam?"
Madam Kike stared at him for a moment.
Then turned away.
"You can go."
The guards disappeared into the building behind her.
Tony blinked.
Confused.
Madam Kike spoke without looking back.
"I wanted to have to convince you."