STACCATO

SAGA 1

In the heart of Sheffield, where the streets whispered secrets and the shadows danced under flickering streetlights, a new chapter was about to unfold in the lives of its disillusioned inhabitants. The city had seen its fair share of bloodshed; for every crimson sunset that fell behind its ancient facades, a new tale of deceit and betrayal was just waiting to be woven into the fabric of its existence.

ADELOVE was a name synonymous with power, ambition, and a talent for making enemies out of allies and vice-versa while staying a credible threat to them. A name that for centuries and decades had decided the tide of major events and transitions in the global scape. People like to think they go to elections, get jobs or even sing in the choir of their own volition. A nice line of thought, light years away from reality.

Karri Adelove, aka “Black Gold Mafia” had his hand in every pie from oil, to politics, the economy and even religion. The last of the old-school era of blood, bones, and grit.

ADELOVE with the almost cliché composition of Male firstborn, a female in the middle, and a hotheaded lastborn chico with a knack for sparks and gleams. In that order; Kole, Ade-ola & Kareem are the new apex of the game with “K” as the Alpha of the pride. There’s no need to guess which of the Ks is meant by “K”. But you might need to wonder which of them will give the eulogy at BGMs funeral.

The giant that has ruefully brought the family name to the minds of every soul within a trillion-mile radius now lay still in his bier with a smirk on his face. Everyone could still see the invisible chip on his shoulder. The near sneer that could very much be interpreted as whatever the heck you wanna interpret it as. So long as you keep off, be aware, and beware.

His sons are like the hybrid version, perhaps why they both had a stone-cold face, embellished without dark glasses, wet noses, or handkerchiefs at his final rites. They just sat there looking at everyone with what some ascribed as a suspicious tint in their bloodshot eyes.

A hue that could very much be explained as could not; since they just lost their old man, but to seemingly natural causes. Or as Ade-ola alone knows, intentional causes. Lethal injection to the very marrow of the brain. BGM had called her in and told her some days before;

“I can’t stand the thought of not dying the way I lived; on my own terms”

The old gloat didn’t even give her the chance of being decently surprised and sad upon the occasion of one’s father’s death like everyone else.

No can do! In the Adelove family, “expect everything and never be caught off guard”, had been an official code. A code that exists even till the future. A future that is kept predictable by the sheer cause of designing it.

She couldn’t have, at that time grasped the true impetus behind her father’s actions, why he chose to tell only her of the injection, administered covertly 72 hours before drop-dead time. Affording him some time to make some last-minute moves with her connivance. He told her a secret that day. A secret he made her swear to guard till her last breath.

Her brothers were completely in the dark as they believed BGM died of a heart attack. Everyone knew he was mildly hypertensive, but the old rascal left them guessing, as he died with a 45 caliber desert eagle in hand, in the driver’s seat of his favorite 1951 Studebaker Woodie, with a Gurkha Royal Courtesan Cigar wedged between his grater edged teeth, while parked in the garage of the Governor’s office. Their suspicion was perhaps properly excused and allowed.

Pieces started moving and power ovulated in the most incubated demeanor, the moment he died. He had an assignment for everyone in the family, and the instructions were administered using external forces, at specific dates with far between intervals.

Kareem received his at the burial, as Ade-ola was giving the eulogy. Someone bent his ear from the seat behind and whispered the bomb. He was never the same after assimilating those whispered words. A shrill chill like that of a frozen owl, simmered through his arteries and his ears floundered like pre-harvested purple hibiscus.

His mind kept palpating between reality and unavoidable eventualities. All of a sudden, an atomic gulf materialized between himself and the universe, especially the human beings planted by either side of him on that church pew. Family.

So many things had to happen that he couldn’t control nor possibly foresee, and even this realization did not contribute any less to the enigma status that BGM had garnered in his lifetime and especially death. He couldn’t tell which was more brutal and imperial. The old gloat’s state-side moves or his scheming from the grave.

The only thing in his control were the actions he had to take from the very simple but skillful and sinful instructions entrusted to him. He felt like time wouldn’t tell for nothing, and everything real was just temporary. The dots that would never connect in his mind were just testaments of how much of a pawn he left like on a dead man’s chessboard.

No one could get BGM’s shadow off their backs even when his lights had been punched out.

Kareem peered beyond his thoughts towards Kola, and tried to get a glimpse at his eyes in quest of his countenance. Perhaps, he had gotten his too, and might even help. A fruitless thought upon conception, as he knew he couldn’t be helped, nor solicit same. The instructions had clear warnings of occultist discretion, and not even he had the cajones to disobey the lifeless ADELOVE.

Consequences were still far-reaching from the azure beyond to the clan of the living.

It was Kola’s turn to mount the stage and pay last verbal respects to the “exited icon”. He could be seen straightening his black jacket and clocking the whole congregation to maintain their attention. Making sure that everyone read the indifference on his face and hoping they would recognize at first sight his readiness to harness the reins and charge on the cavalry. It was his turn, and they had to identify that unquestionably, though he was convinced that it was well-earned. Acquiescence was not what he sought after and he hoped they copied that too. Obedience was more like it.

“ahem,” he cleared his throat before bursting up in a cacophony of flames. The ground beneath him erupted while the roof above capitulated to accost it midair, with his ripping flesh in the middle providing enough lubrication, as his skin came apart to release the entire 5.5 liters of blood within. The force splattered shredded parts of his brain matter on the heavenly platters and sculptures on the altar of The House of Harvest Church, Sheffield, United Kingdom. It was like a work of art.

Kola Adelove has just been assassinated- at his father’s funeral!