Man In Black

CHAPTER I Grrrrrrrrng! The doorbell rang. “Who's there?” a voice asked. “Bros, na me,” answered the caller. The door opened to reveal a young man of thirty-two, clean shaven and wearing close-cut hair. He was carrying a backpack. “O-hoo, I no talk am, I know say you no fit finish early for your life,” complained Chukwudi, his face drawn. He was already getting tired of Segun's lateness. “Okay, I have heard you, Chuks,” Segun said. “But you see that I just want to iron some clothes. Besides, even the one I intend wearing today is rumpled a bit.” “How I wan take know, when you never talk say make I enter, ehn Shege? You harsh o.” “Oya come in,” Segun beckoned his friend. “Did you bring your bike?” asked the former. “Eehn, I park am for street. This one wey you dey sweat like this, you don baff? Ah, so you never baff,” he said as his friend looked up from his ironing to shake his head. “And you never shave, self. Na wa for you o. You know say we dey start shooting practice today and you want make we go late. You be fine guy, but if you dey do like this everyone, na so girls go dey run comot your side o.” “I'm almost done, let me just stop here. I'll go take my bath now, just let the TV keep you company.” Segun's house was a mini-flat in Ikeja, Lagos State. The interior was painted a vibrant green with brown leather chairs in the parlour. A dull brown rug ran all over the floors, while a green rug was over laid on the parlour floor. Ckukwudi, tired of waiting, settled himself to the 42-inch LED TV which was showing a documentary running on the discovery channel. Segun and Chukwudi were childhood friends, brought together by the friendship between their parents, the Brainards and the Browns. They had gone to the same secondary school, and later went to the same tertiary institution, a prestigious university in the UK where both studied criminology. After their graduation, they both came to Nigeria and had been living in their motherland for a year. Just the previous week, Chukwudi had signed up for shooting classes online at a shooting range in Lekki and had persuaded Segun to join. Regardless of the education he had received, Chukwudi loved speaking pidgin, because according to him, "home sweet home, pidgin sweet pidgin." Memories of his own catchphrase brought a smile to his lips. Segun's voice brought him out of his reverie. “Yeah so I'm done, and ready to go,” said a transformed, smiley-faced guy. The sweat on his body, as well as his beard was gone, and he was decked in a slim-fitting white shirt, highlighting his muscles—the results of frequent visits to the gym—camouflage vest, combat pants, and a pair of shining black All Stars. He too carried a bagpack. “O-boy you fresh o,” Chuks said admiringly, “but if army man catch you...” “Never mind,” Segun said, dismissing his fears with a wave of his hand. By the way, I like your fingerless gloves,” he commented. “Yeah, I heard it helps to get a good grip on guns, so...” An instinctive smile played on Segun's lips. Chuks, abandon his beloved pidgin! Strange things did happen sometimes. “Ehn, I know, ah!” Chuks said reading his mind. He glanced at his watch. “Ah, see time, 8:05 already, and we suppose reach there by 9 O'clock. oya make we dey go.” And so, by 8:07 a.m., the two friends were speeding off toward Lekki. ********