4:39 PM
ENJOY THE CONTINUATION 👇
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The band was disbanded, save the drum setter. The club went quiet and tensile as Francis grabbed the microphone. “My name is Michael Livingstone and this is my friend, Anatoly, the celebrant, we’re here to sing y’all a song.”
Only the bloggers clapped; curious souls who probably wouldn’t be alive to blog what was to go down in due course.
Anatoly sat at the piano and played to Jace Everett’s Bad Things that Francis began to sing, and the drum guy got the pitch.
“When you came in the air went out
“And every shadow filled up with doubt
“I don’t know who you think you are
“But before the night is through
“I wanna do bad things with you
“I’m the kind to sit up in his room
“Heart sick an’ eyes filled up with blue
“I don’t know what you’ve done to me
“But I know this much is true
“I wanna do bad things with you”
They played to instruments alone for a while before Francis took the chorus again.
“When you came in the air went out
“And all those shadows there filled up with doubt
“I don’t know who you think you are
“But before the night is through
“I wanna do bad things with you
“I wanna do real bad thing with you”
His voice was too good for a man of his walk and individual alarmingly gazed until just when he was to take the second verse and gunshots were heard outside and that was it; the light went out and pandemonium broke out.
Nobody could say who started the firing inside per se but it went on ceaselessly for nearly three minutes in the darkness until the light came on to meet stillness so tense the falling of a needle would’ve been heard. The silence only lasted few seconds though, it was broken by grunting of people behind whatever they had hidden behind; turned tables, askew chairs and so on. A couple of dead bodies lay here and there, and people who were wounded couldn’t move and wouldn’t cry. The stage was empty, they all alarmingly noticed, neither Anatoly nor Francis was in sight.
Then suddenly, like a monkey, a man jumped out from behind the buffet and bullets dramatically followed him instantaneously as he rolled so fast on the floor he seemed to be a mysterious whirlwind and before they knew it, an explosion at a corner of the club threw like six people in the air, someone had thrown a grenade.
The man who just acrobatically rolled across the hall was Boris and he hardly reached the position he went for when a long tiny rope went in the air from the direction he just left, pulled by the weight of a crooked metal tied to its end and it got stuck in the working ceiling fan, thereby swinging the person holding onto the other end of the rope in the air, guns blazing and although his weight slowed the speed of the fan down, he whirled about in a swift perfect zero and whoever aimed at him got shot first. It was Ivan.
“Wow!” Francis exclaimed at a corner from where he and Anatoly watched.
Before anyone could think of anything, the dangling Ivan had got himself yanked out of sight and the gunshots died down momentarily, leaving moans and painful grunts from those who would rather go to hell than blubber.
“Guess who cannot lose sight of you no matter what trick you throw,” said someone behind Francis and a gun’s chamber wailed at the cocking of the hammer. It was James Bond and Francis smiled unflinchingly.
“I wasn’t particularly hiding from you, Mr. Bond,” he snickered as he rose. He came into sight, causing a lot of heads to pop out of different corners in reaction, pointing like a hundred guns at him.
“It’s him!” someone yelled and someone shot the man who yelled and then came another barrage forcing Francis and James Bond back into their corner.
“Drop your gun or I swear I’ll blow your head off,” said Boris as he raised his gun to James Bond’s ear out of nowhere, but it seemed James Bond was not a type to play ball; he kicked the gun out of Boris’s hand and shot a bullet right at his face, but hell, Boris was luckily fast, nearly as fast as the bullet as he bent his head and the bullet scraped his left cheek, splattering blood and that was how he went down, not because he was wounded but because he was sure Ivan would kick another gun in his direction and he would grab it to aim a shot at the James Bond guy.
Ivan did as expected but Francis went on his right knee at a lightning speed, his left leg tapping on the gun rolling into Boris’s hand and the gun went in the air like a bounced ball and as James Bond looked up in puckered mouth, aiming to grab the same gun, Boris swept James Bond off the ground and Francis landed a kick in his chest, shooting him backwards like a crashing plane, finally crashing into a table. Francis got the gun and pointed it at Boris, the same time Ivan pointed an AMT Hardballer at Francis from his right.
“Before the thought of shooting him cross your mind, I’ve shot you,” Ivan warned.
“Fuck it,” Francis threw his gun at the crowd and gave Ivan a cut with the blade of his hand in the neck, felling him but Ivan hardly hit the ground when James Bond came plunging into the air head first, and into Francis’s tummy he planted his head and together, they crashed through a glass wall.
Anatoly took on both Ivan and Boris at the same time and they were having good kicks at him while he only shot his knuckles in the air. A big brawl began in the hall, people finally taking to their fists.
“Anatoly!” was the cry of a bald man at what was supposed to be the entrance of the club and a grenade propelled by a rocket came blazing with fire with a sound as rugged as that of a landing plane. Individual jumped different ways and one big bang rocked the hall, shattering whatever was made of glass and temporarily kipping everybody’s eardrums. The wall it hit had torn open and the outside was visible from the inside.
Before the smoke could clear, another grenade went howling towards the buffet where majority of the assassins and bounty hunters were hiding and a lot of them went in the air as flung by the impact of this rocket-propelled grenade. Soul Lounge would never recover from this damage any soon.
Before James Bond could get a hold of himself and look around, Francis and Anatoly had already disappeared.
* * *
This is how the gunfire outside started.
Francis had caught everybody’s attention on the stage and Sonican was leading Majeed and Olawunmi away from the building, making way to the parking lot where she had planned to foul-wire a car but then she was double-crossed by a Chinese lady whose English was quite fluent for a Chinese.
“And where, pray, are you headed?” she had asked.
Sonican halted and shielded Majeed and Olawunmi, their obstructer was nobody but Xia.
“And who, pray, are you?” Sonican snapped, standing gallantly.
“Someone who can relieve you of those burdens,” Xia had said, referring to Majeed and Olawunmi.
“What burden?” asked Sonican, rolling her eyes.
“Them,” Xia pointed.
“They’re my friends, not burdens. But if you’d like to take them, I’d thank you, come and try.”
“Okay then,” Xia approached and nearly got to Sonican when Sonican put a Berretta 92 pistol out in her face but she dismantled it without snatching it out of her hand in a speed as swift as light’s.
“Hell!” Sonican shrieked, launching at Xia with an elbow that was legendary at breaking whatever it was meant to break.
Of course Xia got closer and received her arm on the neck instead. Her own heel went up right at the same time and from her back she brought it to lick Xia on the chin, giving her an extreme jaw pain. Sonican was not a good fighter but her shooting was quite impressive she won Francis’s heart with it but there she was, unharmed with a combat artist.
A lot of offenses and defenses with arms and legs went on for a while, Sonican finally managing to land her elbow on Xia’s mouth remuneratively, sending her somersaulting backwards but never touching her back to the ground. She stood at the distance where she had regained balance and spat in her palm to see the blood. Sonican always trusted the elbows; she was trained to fight with them. And she pushed her boobs up proudly and smiled, “Bitch,” she said. “C’mon, don’t cry yet. Show me what you’ve got?”
“I’m done with you,” Xia spat bloody goo and fired a Berretta M9 at Sonican.
It got her in the belly and she held onto it with both hands in shock, falling on her knees, mouth open, head bent and then she fell on her face. So Xia approached the frightened guys looking like the idea of running was totally strange to them.
“The party is not over, why are you trying to leave?” Xia smirked, approaching with every step ricocheting in the frightened lovers’ hearts.
When she got scissored by Sonican and hit the ground hard, she wasn’t expecting it, and before she could blink, she had got an elbow in the mouth again, this time, harder. And just then someone with an AK-101 assault rifle joined the fray and Sonican impulsively released Xia to scissor Majeed and Olawunmi down in order to salvage them from the prospective volley.
Xia went on the defensive; the new company certainly wasn’t from her camp. Sonican used the window of distraction to drag Majeed and Olawunmi off the scene successfully and Majeed could not help but groan painfully because his wound was bleeding and hurting again.
The light went out.
More men with assault rifles came and Xia faced them in the moonlight, brought three of them down in an instant, during when Sonican finally foul-wired a car and hit the pavement with a screeching howl that alarmingly brought Xia to the awareness that she was leaving. That prompted her to abandon the assailants in pursuit of the fleeing Sonican, but she wasn’t as lucky as her, the tyres of the car she took got hit and the car rammed into another car, so she disappeared instead of continuing the fight; it was useless fighting the wrong targets when her real targets had gone.
When Sonican saw the way Olawunmi looked at her while she drove, sensing that she was surprised to still see her in action after she was shot back there, she chortled, “None of my dresses can be pierced by bullets, dear. We’re rich in this business, we can afford anything. I was just pretending for that bitch, c’mon, look happy.”
“My leg hurts!” Majeed whimpered at the backseat.
Sonican glanced at him briefly. “Welcome to our world gentleman,” she chortled. “We get shot all the time but we don’t die. You won’t.”
She accelerated aberrantly and puckered her mouth like she was going happily insane. Olawunmi choked on her own heart.
Only the bloggers clapped; curious souls who probably wouldn’t be alive to blog what was to go down in due course.
Anatoly sat at the piano and played to Jace Everett’s Bad Things that Francis began to sing, and the drum guy got the pitch.
“When you came in the air went out
“And every shadow filled up with doubt
“I don’t know who you think you are
“But before the night is through
“I wanna do bad things with you
“I’m the kind to sit up in his room
“Heart sick an’ eyes filled up with blue
“I don’t know what you’ve done to me
“But I know this much is true
“I wanna do bad things with you”
They played to instruments alone for a while before Francis took the chorus again.
“When you came in the air went out
“And all those shadows there filled up with doubt
“I don’t know who you think you are
“But before the night is through
“I wanna do bad things with you
“I wanna do real bad thing with you”
His voice was too good for a man of his walk and individual alarmingly gazed until just when he was to take the second verse and gunshots were heard outside and that was it; the light went out and pandemonium broke out.
Nobody could say who started the firing inside per se but it went on ceaselessly for nearly three minutes in the darkness until the light came on to meet stillness so tense the falling of a needle would’ve been heard. The silence only lasted few seconds though, it was broken by grunting of people behind whatever they had hidden behind; turned tables, askew chairs and so on. A couple of dead bodies lay here and there, and people who were wounded couldn’t move and wouldn’t cry. The stage was empty, they all alarmingly noticed, neither Anatoly nor Francis was in sight.
Then suddenly, like a monkey, a man jumped out from behind the buffet and bullets dramatically followed him instantaneously as he rolled so fast on the floor he seemed to be a mysterious whirlwind and before they knew it, an explosion at a corner of the club threw like six people in the air, someone had thrown a grenade.
The man who just acrobatically rolled across the hall was Boris and he hardly reached the position he went for when a long tiny rope went in the air from the direction he just left, pulled by the weight of a crooked metal tied to its end and it got stuck in the working ceiling fan, thereby swinging the person holding onto the other end of the rope in the air, guns blazing and although his weight slowed the speed of the fan down, he whirled about in a swift perfect zero and whoever aimed at him got shot first. It was Ivan.
“Wow!” Francis exclaimed at a corner from where he and Anatoly watched.
Before anyone could think of anything, the dangling Ivan had got himself yanked out of sight and the gunshots died down momentarily, leaving moans and painful grunts from those who would rather go to hell than blubber.
“Guess who cannot lose sight of you no matter what trick you throw,” said someone behind Francis and a gun’s chamber wailed at the cocking of the hammer. It was James Bond and Francis smiled unflinchingly.
“I wasn’t particularly hiding from you, Mr. Bond,” he snickered as he rose. He came into sight, causing a lot of heads to pop out of different corners in reaction, pointing like a hundred guns at him.
“It’s him!” someone yelled and someone shot the man who yelled and then came another barrage forcing Francis and James Bond back into their corner.
“Drop your gun or I swear I’ll blow your head off,” said Boris as he raised his gun to James Bond’s ear out of nowhere, but it seemed James Bond was not a type to play ball; he kicked the gun out of Boris’s hand and shot a bullet right at his face, but hell, Boris was luckily fast, nearly as fast as the bullet as he bent his head and the bullet scraped his left cheek, splattering blood and that was how he went down, not because he was wounded but because he was sure Ivan would kick another gun in his direction and he would grab it to aim a shot at the James Bond guy.
Ivan did as expected but Francis went on his right knee at a lightning speed, his left leg tapping on the gun rolling into Boris’s hand and the gun went in the air like a bounced ball and as James Bond looked up in puckered mouth, aiming to grab the same gun, Boris swept James Bond off the ground and Francis landed a kick in his chest, shooting him backwards like a crashing plane, finally crashing into a table. Francis got the gun and pointed it at Boris, the same time Ivan pointed an AMT Hardballer at Francis from his right.
“Before the thought of shooting him cross your mind, I’ve shot you,” Ivan warned.
“Fuck it,” Francis threw his gun at the crowd and gave Ivan a cut with the blade of his hand in the neck, felling him but Ivan hardly hit the ground when James Bond came plunging into the air head first, and into Francis’s tummy he planted his head and together, they crashed through a glass wall.
Anatoly took on both Ivan and Boris at the same time and they were having good kicks at him while he only shot his knuckles in the air. A big brawl began in the hall, people finally taking to their fists.
“Anatoly!” was the cry of a bald man at what was supposed to be the entrance of the club and a grenade propelled by a rocket came blazing with fire with a sound as rugged as that of a landing plane. Individual jumped different ways and one big bang rocked the hall, shattering whatever was made of glass and temporarily kipping everybody’s eardrums. The wall it hit had torn open and the outside was visible from the inside.
Before the smoke could clear, another grenade went howling towards the buffet where majority of the assassins and bounty hunters were hiding and a lot of them went in the air as flung by the impact of this rocket-propelled grenade. Soul Lounge would never recover from this damage any soon.
Before James Bond could get a hold of himself and look around, Francis and Anatoly had already disappeared.
* * *
This is how the gunfire outside started.
Francis had caught everybody’s attention on the stage and Sonican was leading Majeed and Olawunmi away from the building, making way to the parking lot where she had planned to foul-wire a car but then she was double-crossed by a Chinese lady whose English was quite fluent for a Chinese.
“And where, pray, are you headed?” she had asked.
Sonican halted and shielded Majeed and Olawunmi, their obstructer was nobody but Xia.
“And who, pray, are you?” Sonican snapped, standing gallantly.
“Someone who can relieve you of those burdens,” Xia had said, referring to Majeed and Olawunmi.
“What burden?” asked Sonican, rolling her eyes.
“Them,” Xia pointed.
“They’re my friends, not burdens. But if you’d like to take them, I’d thank you, come and try.”
“Okay then,” Xia approached and nearly got to Sonican when Sonican put a Berretta 92 pistol out in her face but she dismantled it without snatching it out of her hand in a speed as swift as light’s.
“Hell!” Sonican shrieked, launching at Xia with an elbow that was legendary at breaking whatever it was meant to break.
Of course Xia got closer and received her arm on the neck instead. Her own heel went up right at the same time and from her back she brought it to lick Xia on the chin, giving her an extreme jaw pain. Sonican was not a good fighter but her shooting was quite impressive she won Francis’s heart with it but there she was, unharmed with a combat artist.
A lot of offenses and defenses with arms and legs went on for a while, Sonican finally managing to land her elbow on Xia’s mouth remuneratively, sending her somersaulting backwards but never touching her back to the ground. She stood at the distance where she had regained balance and spat in her palm to see the blood. Sonican always trusted the elbows; she was trained to fight with them. And she pushed her boobs up proudly and smiled, “Bitch,” she said. “C’mon, don’t cry yet. Show me what you’ve got?”
“I’m done with you,” Xia spat bloody goo and fired a Berretta M9 at Sonican.
It got her in the belly and she held onto it with both hands in shock, falling on her knees, mouth open, head bent and then she fell on her face. So Xia approached the frightened guys looking like the idea of running was totally strange to them.
“The party is not over, why are you trying to leave?” Xia smirked, approaching with every step ricocheting in the frightened lovers’ hearts.
When she got scissored by Sonican and hit the ground hard, she wasn’t expecting it, and before she could blink, she had got an elbow in the mouth again, this time, harder. And just then someone with an AK-101 assault rifle joined the fray and Sonican impulsively released Xia to scissor Majeed and Olawunmi down in order to salvage them from the prospective volley.
Xia went on the defensive; the new company certainly wasn’t from her camp. Sonican used the window of distraction to drag Majeed and Olawunmi off the scene successfully and Majeed could not help but groan painfully because his wound was bleeding and hurting again.
The light went out.
More men with assault rifles came and Xia faced them in the moonlight, brought three of them down in an instant, during when Sonican finally foul-wired a car and hit the pavement with a screeching howl that alarmingly brought Xia to the awareness that she was leaving. That prompted her to abandon the assailants in pursuit of the fleeing Sonican, but she wasn’t as lucky as her, the tyres of the car she took got hit and the car rammed into another car, so she disappeared instead of continuing the fight; it was useless fighting the wrong targets when her real targets had gone.
When Sonican saw the way Olawunmi looked at her while she drove, sensing that she was surprised to still see her in action after she was shot back there, she chortled, “None of my dresses can be pierced by bullets, dear. We’re rich in this business, we can afford anything. I was just pretending for that bitch, c’mon, look happy.”
“My leg hurts!” Majeed whimpered at the backseat.
Sonican glanced at him briefly. “Welcome to our world gentleman,” she chortled. “We get shot all the time but we don’t die. You won’t.”
She accelerated aberrantly and puckered her mouth like she was going happily insane. Olawunmi choked on her own heart.
...to be continued!
Written by: Lord eBay (and his action series, 2017)
Twitter & Instagram: @lordebay
Email: dearlordebay@gmail.com
ABOUT AUTHOR:
Lord eBay is an Author with a taste for Romantic, Political and Paranormal Fictions. His goal is to join other writers in resurrecting Reading/Writing culture in Nigeria.
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C'mooon, don't just leave. U gotta say something ;)