THE PROTECTED CRIMINALS

EPISODE 5

As I sat in front of the principal of Genius Primary School, I pleaded, "But please sir, I am an excellent teacher, I have taught up to five primary schools before." The mission has officially begun. It all started on this glorious Monday morning, with the exception of Wizard, who had already packed out of The Fittest the day before. I now live in a cottage in Down Hill City, specifically in Mid City, and fortunately, the primary school where Mr. Emmanuel Adam teaches is also in Mid City, but his house is a little further away.

Hannah and Daniela share a rented flat with each other. Kelvin, James, and Joseph all reside in rented flats, but they don't live together.

Their choice of rental apartments was based solely on the fact that their homes were not close by. Wizard isn't required right now, therefore he remains in The Fittest. Sir Christopher had spoken with us the day before, on Sunday, and had given us some advice on how to approach this task. He had added at the end of his lesson, "As much as I hate to say it, I wish you guys good luck."

"Mr. Richard, Genius is distinct from other elementary schools you may be aware of in that we do not hire students with only a secondary school diploma. We can't take you," he stated again, this time more impatiently.

"However, sir, I am." He interrupted me without letting me complete my statement " Mr. man, you aren't qualified to teach at Genius primary school," he added once again as he tucked his tie in. "Why don't you just put me to the test?" I suggested. "I won't hire you because of your certificate, even if I test you and find you qualified for the position." He responded. "Now, if you don't mind," he added as he motioned to the door, "you may leave my office." I stood up and slowly walked out the door of his office after staring at him for a few minutes. It was only 7:30 a.m., and the day was just getting started.

I exited his office and proceeded to the gate, where I was about to step out when I spotted a small beetle car pull over in front of the gate, with Mr. Emmanuel Adam in the driver's seat, what a sensible man. I strolled past his automobile as if I had no business with him, then turned around to find my bicycle tied on a street corner. I stepped aboard and rode it back to my house. My house isn't the type that suggests I'm a spy; in fact, it appears like any other home. There are no security face scans or card-activated doors, and security cameras are not installed.

In front of the house, there is only a large black gate. A tiny farm, a tomato farm, is located within the compound; I enjoy farming. There isn't a car in the compound because I haven't purchased one yet, but there are two bicycles, a power bike, I proceeded into the main building and parked the third bicycle near the two that were chained to an iron in the compound. The bungalow's interior is tastefully decorated in the style of a bachelor pad; the sitting area features a glass center table surrounded by chairs and cushion chairs. A large screen television sits in the sitting room's top corner, with a decoder and music player beneath it.

The dining room is standard fare, with a large glass table, glass chairs, and a tiny refrigerator. The house has only three rooms, each with its own toilet and bathroom. The rooms are very well-furnished. A general kitchen is located next to the dining room. As I sank onto one of the cushion chairs, I thought to myself, "This is the beginning of failure." I took a look at the clumsy application letter I'd written and ripped it to shreds in a fit of rage. As I stood up and walked over to my small fridge in the dining room, I said, "Foolish Man!" I took a small taste of malt from one of the cans.

As I glanced at the white long sleeve shirt I was wearing, I thought to myself, "This is just a waste of effort." I remembered it had taken me hours to straighten this shirt. I yanked off the shirt and stormed into my room, where I changed into something lighter before lying down on the bed to make up for the lack of sleep I got the night before.

I changed into a white short and blacktop, slipped my little camera inside the white short's pocket, and entered the compound. I carefully considered my three bicycles before selecting to ride the black one. I unhooked it from its chain and pedaled out of the compound, humming an old love song. It was the same day's evening, a cool and tranquil evening. I rode my bicycle down the lonely street with no particular destination in mind; all I wanted was to feel like the bachelor that I am.

I had completed three rounds of the street when I decided to at least have some fun. I shifted the course of my bicycle, preventing me from completing my fourth street tour. I was actually familiar with the location, and the explanation wasn't far-fetched: whenever we were granted days off or holidays at The Fittest, I always came back to my modest house. As a result, I've become somewhat accustomed to the surroundings. When Kelvin and James decide to spend their holidays at my house, we do go chill at a bar near where my bicycle was now heading.

I parked my bike outside the loud bar, where men could be seen smoking in every corner, and where two or three smokers congregate, a girl must be in their midst. Girls could be seen occupying the laps of some of these smokers on most corners, while girls could be seen dancing for the guys on other corners. I'm not sure what gives them pleasure in this kind of life.

I dashed into the pub, where the music was at its loudest, and sat in the usual area where I usually with James and Kelvin whenever we were together. "Give me a soft drink bottle," I asked to the bartender nearest to me.

The man gave me a cursory glance as if expecting me to order a beer or something alcoholic. "Is it only soft drink?" I nodded as he inquired. "You can top it up with a platter of meat," I said after him. He returned approximately 10 minutes later with a plate of meat and a bottle of soft drink, which he opened for me and tossed onto the table. "Enjoy," he murmured as he walked away. I stared at the dish of meat and wondered why I had ordered it in the first place; I didn't have the stomach for it.

"The night is cold," a female voice said beside me, and I turned my neck to see who it was. It was one of the club girls. She was seated right next to me, staring at me I. When I didn't respond to what she said earlier, she said, "I am Esther." I said, "I'm not interested." "Not interested, that's a nice name," she said as I coughed as the pepper from the meat nearly choked me as I tried to chuckle, but her response was truly humorous. "That isn't my name, I mean I ain't interested in knowing you," I said after guzzling some of the drink's contents from the once-full bottle.

She responded, "Come off it, I ain't a club girl." "I didn't say you were," I said as I handed her my plate of meat, which she returned to me. "You thought I was," she repeated. " No, I didn't think you were," she cut me off. "I just came to share your meal with you; I'm not a club lady," she reiterated. "Is that why you don't want to share your meat with me?" I inquired. "I'm allergic to meats," she explained, and the same bartender served her a dish of meat nearly immediately.

"But you were....she interrupted me, i mean am allergic to meat from strangers," she added again, picking up a piece of her steak. "Did she not respond to me because of you?" I turned around to see three club touts waiting behind us when a heavy voice asked from behind us. "Who are they?" I inquired. She stared at them and said, "As you can see, touts." "Are you unconcerned?" I fell flat to the ground when the same tout guy who had talked earlier pushed me out of my seat. The club quickly dispersed as individuals began to flee in order to avoid becoming engaged in the impending brawl.

It's typical for the club to scatter all the time; the club's scattering was largely cursed by boys fighting for the girls, but it wasn't just mostly caused by that; it was constantly caused by that. While the club's dispersal could be a disadvantage at times, it was also a significant benefit to individuals who did not have enough money to pay for what they had consumed. I, Kelvin, and James had previously taken that route to flee when I couldn't find my wallet to pay the bills. "Calm down, I've got n-" I began to speak, but a thundering slap from one of the tout silenced me.