Nemesis! — Hive

The heavy iron gates of The Maximum Prison creaked open as Donald Deji stepped out. He inhaled deeply the cool and fresh morning air, as against the stench of sweat and metal that still clung to his skin. Ten years. Ten wasted years behind bars for a crime he knew nothing about.

He trudged along the dusty path, a lonely and pathetic figure, sunken but defiant eyes. He clutched his bag pack firmly to his thin frame, never looking back, no, not at the now locked forbading gate behind him. It had been a place of terror and pain, a place of misery and agony.

Donald clenched his fists!

Constable Manu.

The city stretched before him like a foreign land—it had changed so much in ten years, but not as much as he had. He walked with slow, measured steps, his heart burning with a singular purpose.

Constable Manu. The man who had stolen everything, his life, his future, and the love of his life.

Ten years, ten years, good ten years" he breathed heavily as he clenched his fists tightly, until his knuckles bled.

But these number of years, he has perfected plans to make him pay for what he had done, how to make him eat the humble pie by admitting to killing Bimbo, over a minor traffic issue. How he fired that one fatal bullet that ended the life of a promising young woman.

His smile curved into one of cynicism.

Bimbo’s laughter still echoed in his ears, her warmth, her love, still clung to him even after all these years. The last moment he held her in his arms, as her liquid of life seeped through his fingers, and the nightmares that has never ceased.

She died in his arms!

To muffle his quest for justice, the powers behind Constable Manu, had set him up in the murder of a young man, whose body was hidden in his compound.

He was sent to jail by the Constable and his cohorts.

And Constable Manu? He had walked free on the streets, Protected and Promoted—living a life that didn’t belong to him.

Manu had been transferred after the scandal, had been promoted twice, and now headed an anti-robbery squad.

Donald carefully made his move, justice was the only liquid running through his veins.

One night, Manu received a message—someone had information about a high-profile case that could make him a very rich man. It was a lie, of course, but his greed overrode his sense of wisdom, and made him careless.

The directions led him to an abandoned warehouse. The moment he stepped in, the door slammed shut behind him. The room was dark, but for a single flickering bulb with its long stem hanging from the ceiling.

Donald stood in the middle of the room.

Manu’s face twisted in confusion, then shock. “You?”

Donald smiled, a slow, deadly grin. “Yes me?”

Manu reached for his gun but it was too late.

A sharp blow to the wrist sent the gun clattering to the floor. Donald picked it up, shoved Manu to the floor, pointing it at his head.

Manu struggled. “You think you will get away with this? You’re a dead man walking. The law—”

Donald chuckled. Do you speak about the law?

“The law that buried my case. The law that made you a hero while I rotted in jail” His voice turned ice cold. “The law that let you kill Bimbo and walk free.”

Manu’s face paled.

Donald pulled out a voice recorder and pressed play.

It was Manu’s voice—repeating everything Donald had made him say. A confession.

“Not so tough when these are your own words, don't you understand?” Donald smirked. “This recording is going out to the press, to the police, to the entire country.”

Manu's breathing ragged.

“You think they’ll believe a criminal like you?”

Donald leaned in. “I don’t need them to believe me. I just need them to hear you.”

By morning, the city was on fire.

The confession had spread like wildfire. Manu was finished. He tried to deny it, but there was no escape. His enemies in the Force turned on him.

And Donald?

He stood afar off, watching the police storm Manu’s home, dragging the disgraced officer into a waiting van.

Bimbo’s smiling face flashed in his mind, her eyes filled with light.

“You can rest now my love,” he murmured gently.

And for the first time in ten years, Donald Deji walked away—not as a fugitive or a prisoner...He smiled wryly and with very determined steps, he walked into freedom.

All images created with Al.

I am @edith-4angelseu and thank you for stopping by my neighbourhood.