Subfura: Ènìyàn Ch 3.6

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The Hacker, Spy-eye

It was true that he lacked skill when it came to physical combat, but he was one of the best when it came to digital warfare; he was second to none. At least that’s what he believes, too bad Morẹmi fails to accept his mad hacking skills, then she suddenly sends him an SOS, ordering him to move her little sister towards the safe house.

How he pitied little Anikẹ, Chief Ọji was popular for being greedy and a ruthless go-getter. Sparing no means to claim whatever he needs, and claiming the lives of anyone who vexes him. When Anikẹ was at the age of 12, he used her as a means of controlling her older sister. He did things in the little girl’s presence that no child should see. The bastard murdered more than four innocent people in front of the girls and then exposed her to barrels of foul language; he even tortured several of his henchmen in her presence. How can a man be so heartless and without principle? He wondered.

The moment he received the SOS, he immediately jumped into action. First, he located the exact address of the little child, but not so little now that she is 15, and not as innocent as she was before. He hit the jackpot in less than three minutes.

Anikẹ was still in school and still unaware that the chief was after her, so he homed in on her communication device and sent her the heads-up. That being done, he gathered up his jacket and craft-key and hurriedly headed to the meeting point.

Anikẹ sat down quietly within her classroom listening to the teacher’s lesson when her arm communicator suddenly started to ring; her teachers, being briefed about the situation, simply nodded, allowing the girl to leave the class as soon as she heard the ring.

Anikẹ ran towards her personal locker and recovered some of her favourite books along with everything she possessed; if she leaves anything behind, it can be used to discover her exact location.

As Anikẹ ran towards the exit, four of Chief Ọji’s men shockingly appeared at the other side of the corridor. The sudden fright caused the girl to scream and jump away from the four assailants; she easily recognised the first two as the ones who had adopted her three years earlier, but the other two she failed to recognise.

“Come with us, and no harm will befall you,” the first said calmly.

“I, I, I am not a fool,” she replied. “The last time you took me, I was tortured. I, I, I was nearly raped. I, I, I suffered.”

“Babe, no worry,” the second brute assured, “I promise say, nobody go touch you.”

“Let’s go,” the first said. “We've wasted too much time.”

Anikẹ tried to run away but tripped over a desk in the corridor. She turned around and found it difficult to rise to her feet without falling into the hands of the second brute, who seemed to enjoy toying with his prey.

One of the teachers walked into the scene and protested immediately.

“What in the world do you think you are doing in this school? Leave that girl alone!” the teacher called.

“Please run away, sir, they're going to kill you,” Anikẹ screamed, remembering the number of people they had killed in the process of kidnapping her the previous time.

“Too late, little girl,” the second trigger-happy brute said. “This fool is already dead.”

As soon as they drew out their guns to kill the innocent teacher, the sound of gunfire echoed throughout the entire school compound, and then all four brutes fell lifelessly on the floor like rag dolls with holes in their heads.

The teacher gazed at the horrific sight that presented itself before him in mockery of the situation. Anikẹ had just saved his life; the innocent fifteen-year-old girl had drawn out a gun from her bag and shot all four men within a split second.

The terrified girl found it difficult to withdraw her hand, still marvelled by the horror of killing her fellow men. No matter the reason, her sister started at this very age. Was this how she felt at her first kill?

“Anikẹ, you need to leave, now,” the teacher said as he attempted to help her to her feet. “It’s not safe for you or any of your friends.”

“Yes sir,” she replied, using her willpower to gather up confidence. No matter how hard she tried, she found it difficult to contain her trembling.

“Thank you for saving my life,” the teacher said as he escorted her towards the exit.

This was the moment that Spy Eye chose to barge into the school, judging from the amount of sweat on him, he was seriously worried about her.

“Uncle Gabe!” she greeted.

“Anikẹ,” he replied, “Let’s go. Your sister can’t fight at full strength if she’s worried about you.” Then he focused on the teacher. “Thank you for protecting her.”

“No, she’s the one who saved me,” the teacher replied.

Spy Eye had a puzzled look on his face, and then he found the dead thugs on the floor.

“Please don’t tell me you are going to become like your sister.”

“Let’s go,” Anikẹ screamed.

Spy Eye nodded in acknowledgement, then rushed away from the school with Anikẹ directly behind him, their goal, to reach the safe house where Chief Ọji would be unable to reach her.

*****

Chief Ọji thought that using Blind Spot would be a simple task: kidnap the little useless girl, use her as leverage against the murderer, and turn the murderer into his personal dog. This time he had no intention of letting go of the leash.

He was foolish for releasing her the first time. There will always be someone out there ready to threaten his business; the chain of bloodshed can never end.

Now, to his horror, he realised that the plan had gone into a complete mess; his men died in the process of kidnapping the little girl, and the big sister had now surrendered to her rage.

The horror of being the target of the very animal that he uses to target others, the revelation of realising that he's about to die due to a foolish mistake completely flabbergasted him.

The dread he felt was overwhelming. The probability that a day like this should come never crawled into his darkest nightmares.

So this is what fear is, he thought.

“Agba,” one of the staff of his security details called, “We've doubled the security and tightened every lock.”

“She’s Blind Point; she will find the weakness in the defence system,” Chief Ọji replied from the depths of his dark room. “The only way we’re going to survive is to kill her before she kills us.”

“I’ll send out a squad to hunt that bitch down.”

“Good, the war is not over yet,” Chief Ọji voiced in a hopeful tone.

“Yes sir.”

Chief Ọji might be a fierce businessman and a strategist based on the act of destroying his enemies, but when it comes to a combat situation, he leaves such complex details to his henchmen.

The advance scout might be a group of professional mercenaries, but when it comes to finding out the weaknesses in the enemy’s security system, Morẹmi was second to none. She killed the advance scout within the first 30 minutes of her arrival, then she moved in closer to the house and examined its complex security structure.

“The fat fool,” she whispered, “he spent so much time defending the outer boundaries of his home that he forgot that he built an underground escape route, just in case of a siege.”

Now she was going to use that loophole as an advantage. She silently crept towards the escape hatch, taking the greatest care not to make a single sound, then she silently lifted the hatch and dropped the mini EMP bomb into it with the hope that all the motion detectors and surveillance cameras would shut down for a split second, time enough for Spy Eye to hack into Chief Ọji’s private computer network.

“I'm in,” Spy Eye said over the com-unit hidden in her left ear, “all his accounts will soon be at our mercy.”

“And my sister?” Morẹmi inquired.

“Downloading all the food stored in my refrigerator, to imagine that her stomach has a storage space that exceeds 10 terabytes,” he replied.

“That’s my sister you’re insulting,” Morẹmi growled silently as she slipped into the passageway.

“Tell that to me next month when I'm able to refill all the supplies that your sister has consumed,” Spy Eye replied. “As far as I am concerned, I have never seen a human storage device that can store more than 1 GB worth of food data, oh! Except for you,” he teased.

“Remember Gabe,” Morẹmi said with a hint of humour as she killed four men around the bend, “once you’ve drained his accounts, you'll be more than able to afford more than three times the food that my sister has consumed.”

“Oh! Right, I forgot,” Spy Eye said with a sense of chagrin.

“And then you'll pay for the expenses of your sister?”

“After I kill you maybe,” Morẹmi laughed.

“Nope, I'm not on your hit list.”

“My hit list has only one name.”

“Chief Ọji,” they both said together.

Morẹmi walked into the defensive wall and whistled playfully, gaining the attention of the unwary men. The next instant, the guns were set blazing, bullets flying all over the place, and the screams of dying men filled the air.

Chief Ọji remained in his small dark room unseen by anyone. He heard the guns firing and witnessed the screams of his own men. Every fibre in his body echoed with the same sensation: this is the end.

How many times had he heard those very same screams out of the voices of those who had offended him, a sound that once excited his sadistic nature? Now, these very sounds were the source of his dread.

To imagine that a chief likened to the god of crime itself, to be brought this low, for him to witness the fall of his own criminal empire; the thought itself brought tears to his eyes.

Then there was an alarmingly loud chorus of silence, a calm so thick that the Chief’s head almost exploded with anticipation.

“Bli... Blind Point?” the chief called out anxiously, hoping that at least one of his men was lucky enough to land a hit on her life.

The beautiful Morẹmi suddenly walked into view, shadowed by the light that leaked into the room; she was the shadow of feminine perfection. What his eyes saw was a goddess-like figure with all the right curves in all the right places.

The chief suddenly wondered why he had never tried to bed this beautiful young girl when he had the chance.

“You have finally arrived,” the chief voiced. He was trying to hide his fear, but deep down, he was trembling. “Welcome!”

“It’s been a while, Chief Ọji,” Morẹmi responded as a form of greeting, and then she reached out and switched on the light, thus revealing the Chief’s true form. “Gained a few pounds?”

“700 to be exact,” the chief replied. “So, have you come to take the job?”

Morẹmi laughed. The last time she laid eyes on him, he was as large as a rhino and still could walk upon his two feet; now he’s as large as an elephant.

He once had clothes that could fit him; now he uses a large loincloth to cover up his privates, more for personal dignity than to cover his nakedness. The fat of his body had become a disease that he could not escape from, a prison that encloses him until the end of his days.

Morẹmi nearly puked at such an appalling sight.

“I have a gift for you,” Morẹmi said with a hint of mockery in her tone, then she dropped an envelope on the fat man’s shapeless chest.

Thankfully, the chief was able to move the oversized sausages that looked like his hands. The chief opened the envelope to reveal the pictures inside.

“What is this?” the chief inquired with a terrified voice.

“Pictures of dead women and their children,” Morẹmi replied.

“But?”

“That’s right,” she mocked. “Those women are your wives and those are your children, I killed them all.”

“But, but... they're innocent,” he cried.

“Any more innocent than the targets you contracted me to kill?” Morẹmi inquired.

“Ha!” he exclaimed with shock, gazing at the pictures with trembling hands.

“They're dead, stop crying,” she mocked.

“I'm going to kill you,” Chief Ọji growled.

“How?” Morẹmi laughed. “I've killed all your men and I've killed all your children, you have nothing left.”

Then she did a double take.

“Except your money.”

“I’ll spend every last kobo on your destruction,” Chief Ọji growled.

Morẹmi chuckled at the hint of humour.

“You're a prisoner in your own room. I'm about to destroy the Agbara'ncrystal generator that supplies your home with undeserved air conditioning.”

Then she made several shots at the machine that stood next to the chief.

“And I just killed your food processor.”

“I’ll buy another,” the oversized chief growled.

Morẹmi placed her right hand on her right ear so as to concentrate on the words of the person who was talking to her from a distance, then she looked at the chief and smiled. This made the chief very uncomfortable indeed.

“Well, it seems like the god of the crime world has finally fallen; all your accounts have finally dried up, or should I say hacked,” she answered the unasked question.

“How can you do this to me?” the now terrified chief cried. “I am the soul of strength in the criminal underworld, the most feared and the most powerful.”

“Now, you are nothing,” Morẹmi replied. “Once this was your prison, now it will be your grave.”

“Kill me!” Chief Ọji called.

“And spare you the trouble of a fate worse than death?” Morẹmi inquired. “No! You will die here with nothing to eat, no one to feed you and no one to save you. To believe it is smart to build your home in the middle of nowhere will now prove to be your undoing.”

“Curse you!!” the chief cried.

“We’re all cursed,” Morẹmi replied. “The only difference between us is, I tried to escape my curse, you decided to enjoy yours.”

“There is no escaping your curse, we are born killers and we will remain killers,” the chief said. “This is a life of sin, crime and evil, we will never escape this life.”

“There is always another way out,” Morẹmi responded. “And I will find that way. Goodbye, my old friend, and I hope we never meet again.”

Morẹmi said as she walked away from the compound. The loud agonising scream of a helpless fat man echoed behind her with a vengeance.

“If only he knew that the pictures you gave him were false, he might have died knowing that you didn’t kill his wife and children,” the hacker exclaimed.

“And give him the joy of dying in peace? No way!” Morẹmi exclaimed. “No way.”

The great Blind Point left the hideout of the crime lord with a smile of triumph on her face. Now she is safe; now no one is going to threaten the life of her beloved sister.

But at a great cost, now the blood lust that she once had under control was back with a vengeance; the desire to get back in the game of warfare. She was now filled with an unquenchable thirst for blood, the kind of thirst that can never be sated no matter how many she kills.

Is this the kind of life she will lead until the day of her death? This question will continue to tempt her for the rest of her life.

A New Monster

Two weeks after the invasion of Morẹmi, Chief Ọji remained in the dark room, a ruined, broken representation of his former self. He was still alive but hungry and desperate for a little glimmer of hope.

During the day, he sweats uncontrollably, and at night, the mosquitoes are grateful for a ready supply of fatty blood. The miserable old man had also lost several pounds due to starvation and partial dehydration.

The chief closed his eyes in weakness, hoping that he would never open them again, when the doors leading to his room were forced open.

He could hear the hinges of the door give way to a stronger force, and he practically felt the sound of the wood splinter. Light leaked into the room from beyond the door and with it came a stranger, well-dressed with a sinister look in his eyes.

Chief Ọji sighed with relief. Finally, someone had come to rescue him from his present predicament.

“Chief Ọji,” the stranger said with a hint of humour in his voice, “I've been looking for you for like forever, my experiment might have been a failure if I had not found you.”

“Who are you?” the oversized man replied.

“Hooo! What a smell, don’t you like taking baths?” the well-dressed stranger exclaimed. “So that I won't have to endure this smell any more, I'll just cut to the chase and land at the point, kapish!”

“So what do you want with me?” Chief Ọji inquired.

“This,” the stranger began, extracting a small injection needle with a strange substance within, “is an enhancing drug powerful enough to make you the big boss. You'll be able to move again, you'll become stronger and greater.”

“You want to turn me into a monster? No, I'm not interested,” the Chief replied.

“So you don’t want to take revenge on the death of your many wives and children?” the stranger inquired. “Kapish! Then I guess I’ll just look for someone else to administer this godhood drug to.”

He turned and began walking away.

“Besides, you will become human again. You did pay for the life insurance policy?”

Chief Ọji looked at the stranger silently and then voiced, “Wait, please help me.”

“Badaboom! I'm not stupid enough to help an oversized pile of blub,” the stranger replied. “If you need help then accept this gift of power and help yourself. So what do you say?”

The chief looked at the stranger intently. He only had two choices: to take the drug and survive or to refuse the drug and die.

However, how did this stranger find him, and what exactly is this drug that he wishes to administer? And how did he know about the life insurance policy? It was only known to a few elites.

It’s not like he had a choice; he must do what he can to survive.

“Give me the drug,” he said in a defeated tone.

“Now that’s the spirit,” the stranger replied, walking slowly towards the chief with the needle in his hand, ready to be administered. “This may sting a bit.”

The halls suddenly echoed with a powerful terrifying roar.

“It’s alive!” the stranger yelled.

⏪Chapter 3

Chapter 4⏩