4/7/2037
The clink of glass echoed softly through the room as Christopher took a slow sip of whiskey. The dim golden lights above cast warm shadows over the polished furniture and concrete walls, making the underground space feel like a hidden lounge buried beneath a dead world.
Adunni sat opposite him on a sleek, leather couch, her hands clenched together as her eyes scanned the room. Bookshelves lined the far wall—some of the books covered in dust, others marked with strange, glowing tabs. A large monitor flickered silently in one corner, looping a cracked image of what used to be the mainland.
"What happened here?" she asked finally, voice quiet but tense.
"Why does the future look like this?"
Christopher didn't look up. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, then took another sip before answering.
"I don't really know much about time travel and all that," he said, settling deeper into the armchair. "But from what I've seen, we're not exactly supposed to go around telling people from the past what's coming."
He shrugged. "So I can't really help you there. The question is, how did you get here?"
Adunni frowned, trying to piece it together.
"I was in the parlour with Uncle Olamide. Just... talking. Nothing unusual."
She paused, the memory clearly unsettling her.
"Then something went wrong. My body—" she gestured to herself, palms open "—started glitching. Like, literally. I felt like a game character. My vision doubled, everything vibrated around me. Then..."
She exhaled.
"I was here."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The low hum of a generator vibrated in the background, steady and distant. Christopher leaned back, studying her now.
"You know," he said slowly, "every movie I ever watched about time travel said one thing clearly: you're not supposed to exist in the same timeline as your past or future self."
Adunni blinked.
And then her breath caught.
She stood up, eyes wide as the realization slammed into her. She began to pace, her voice rising with each step.
"That's it. That's why I was glitching. Because... my future self—she was already in 2024. I must've overlapped with her. The timeline couldn't handle it."
She stopped and turned sharply to face him.
"But why? Why would my future self be in 2024? What could be so important that she'd risk collapsing the timeline?"
Christopher didn't answer immediately. He looked into his glass, watching the slow swirl of whiskey.
"If she went back," he murmured, more to himself than to her, "then something must have gone really, really wrong."
Adunni's mouth went dry.
And in that silence, deep beneath the surface of a broken future, something shifted in the air.
Not a sound.
A pressure.
Like the world was holding its breath.
"Christopher, please," Adunni said, urgency creeping into her voice. "Just tell me if you know why I—or my future self—would go back to 2024."
Christopher sighed heavily and stood up, setting his whiskey glass down on the table with a soft clink. His British accent cut through the room, thicker now—rougher.
"Sorry, love, I can't really help you here."
He raked a hand through his hair, looking tired, bitter.
"But if you're here, you're here for a reason. I don't wanna do anything that'll fuck up the timeline. The future's already fucked, and I'm not looking to fuck it up more."
He didn't even get a chance to finish the thought properly.
Click. Clack. Click.
Footsteps.
Slow. Getting closer.
The sound bounced off the walls of the underground hideout. Heavy boots on concrete.
Both of them froze. Eyes locked. Panic painted across their faces.
"Who the fuck is that?" Adunni asked, voice sharp, heart racing.
Christopher looked toward the hallway, already knowing.
"Okay, so... good news?" he said with an awkward shrug. "I'm engaged."
Adunni blinked.
"What the hell?"
"Bad news?" He winced.
"My fiancée doesn't like you. Well—future you. Like, she fucking hates you."
He pointed toward the back wall.
"So unless you want your head slammed through a reinforced wall, you need to go. Like now. Teleport. Time-hop. Whatever the fuck you time avatars do—do it before it's too late."
Adunni didn't argue.
She shut her eyes, breathing in hard. The lights flickered as her power kicked in, air bending like reality was glitching again. Her eyes snapped open—now glowing a vivid, electric blue. The space around her distorted, cracking like glass under pressure.
And in a blink—
She vanished.
A heartbeat later, the metal door creaked open.
Christopher turned around, his face instantly cool as ice. He grabbed his whiskey, took a slow sip, and glanced at the new arrival.
"Hey, babe," he said casually.
"You're early."
The room smelled of whiskey and old records. Soft lighting glowed against the metallic walls—an underground suite hidden far below the ruined streets above. Christopher sat on the couch , swirling a half-glass of dark amber liquor, the ice clinking with each slow movement of his hand.
Then—footsteps.
He turned just as Omoba stepped in. Silent, calculated. The door whispered shut behind him.
Without a word, Omoba crossed the space and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Christopher's forehead. His touch was gentle, but his eyes sharp.
"Who were you talking to?"
Christopher didn't flinch. He leaned back, slouched into his usual casual cool, and tossed out the lie like it cost him nothing.
"Eghosa. My sister's still obsessed with giving me a full minute-by-minute breakdown of her day. You know how she is—won't shut up even if the world's on fire."
Omoba narrowed his eyes just a little. He knew when Christopher was lying. Everyone did. But he let it slide. For now.
He moved across the room and dropped onto the couch beside him. His head came to rest on Christopher's shoulder, fingers absentmindedly toying with the edge of Christopher's shirt.
"How was your day?" Christopher asked, already knowing he wasn't going to like the answer.
Omoba exhaled deeply, his whole body sinking against him, like he was finally letting go of the weight he carried all day.
"You don't to need worry, okay?" he said, voice low, edged with something vulnerable.
"Just know… whatever I'm doing, however I move—I'm doing it for both of us. Even if it doesn't look like it now."
Christopher stayed quiet for a long beat.
Then he took a slow sip of his whiskey and set the glass down. He wrapped one arm around Omoba's waist and pulled him a little closer.
"You sound like you're planning to disappear."
Omoba didn't answer directly. He just muttered,
"Sometimes you have to move in the shadows to protect what's in the light."
Christopher scoffed, but there was no real bite in it.
"You and your dramatic-ass lines. You know I hate this cloak-and-dagger shit, right?"
Omoba smiled faintly.
"Yeah. But you love me anyway."
"Fuck. Unfortunately." Christopher muttered, burying his face in Omoba's neck.
But beneath the jokes, worry tightened his chest. He could feel something shifting. Something was coming, and he wasn't sure they'd face it on the same side.
---
Elsewhere, far from that safety…
The world shivered—and bent.
Adunni stumbled out onto a lonely street, breathing hard, barely steady on her feet. The sky was grey. The buildings hollowed out, bones of a city that once thrived. Her steps were fast, hurried. She didn't know where she was—but she knew she couldn't stay still.
She turned into what looked like an old park, only to find it full of rusted Danfos( commercial buses), half-covered in vines. She barely had time to process it before she felt eyes on her.
Three boys. Tall, lean, shirtless. Red eyes from too much smoke. Their laughter cut through the silence like knives.
"Fine girl! Where you dey rush go like that?"
"Come na, we just wan talk small!"
"Na only you waka come? You don lost?"
Adunni didn't flinch. Her eyes turned blue—briefly. She tried to freeze time.
Flicker. Flicker. Gone.
Too weak. Too drained. Panic surged. She turned and ran.
The thugs followed, hooting and shouting.
Until—
A voice sliced through the noise like lightning.
"Una no go commot for here? Abi craze dey una head?"
Everything froze.
From the shadows stepped a young woman —tall, muscular, and radiant in a deadly kind of way. Her skin gleamed under the dim sun, and her braids were wrapped in gold cords. There was power in her every step. She looked like someone who belonged to the world and dared anyone to question it.
"I say make una disappear. Now."
No second warning.
The boys ran like dogs with tails tucked between their legs.
Adunni stood frozen.
The girl turned toward her, expression unreadable. Then walked closer—calm, confident.
"Fine girl," she said, voice smooth and direct.
"Wetin be your name? Who be you ? Wetin bring you come this kain dead zone?"
Adunni stared, too stunned to speak. Her heartbeat was in her ears. Not because of fear—but because she could feel it too.
This girl… she wasn't normal.
And somehow, Adunni knew—
She'd just met someone important.
Adunni opened her mouth, ready to answer the woman's question.
But then it hit her—she barely knew anything about her future self. What if saying her real name messed something up? What if this woman knew the future her and figured out something wasn't right?
"Blessing," she blurted out, the lie sliding past her tongue like oil.
The woman didn't question it. She just turned, walking away like Adunni's presence barely registered. She didn't even give a second glance.
Then, from a few steps ahead, she muttered in Pidgin:
"Wetin happen? You no go your house?"
Adunni stood frozen. Her chest tightened, the weight of everything finally crashing down. Her voice cracked, low and teary as she answered.
"I'm lost, ma… I don't know where to go. You saved my life… so I'm going to follow you. Please."
The woman paused for a moment—barely—but then she tossed the heavy bag she was carrying straight into Adunni's arms.
"Carry dat one. No be free escort I be."
Adunni nodded quickly and followed.
They walked in silence, navigating narrow alleys, stepping over broken pavement and trash. Eventually, they reached a rundown structure, swallowed up by overgrown grass. It looked abandoned from the outside. Forgotten.
But once the woman opened the door, it was a different world entirely.
Inside, it was neat. Surprisingly neat. The floors were clean, the walls patched up and painted a warm cream. A small pot simmered over gas stove , the smell of pepper stew hanging thick in the air.
Adunni's eyes widened a little. She set the bag down by the door, still feeling a little out of place.
The woman moved with ease, barely looking back as she stirred the pot with a wooden spoon.
"You go chop?" she asked casually.
Adunni nodded quickly.
"Yes, ma. Thank you, ma."
The woman finally turned, eyebrow raised.
"All dis one wey you dey call me 'ma' 'ma' like say I be your principal…" She chuckled once, dry and sharp. "My name na OgheneKevwe but people just they call me Kevwe. Wetin be 'ma, ma, ma'? You wan turn me to old woman?"
Adunni blinked, surprised. Then, despite everything, a small laugh escaped her.
"Sorry—Kevwe." She said the name slowly, testing it, still a little nervous. "I just… you saved me, and I didn't want to be rude."
Kevwe scoffed but didn't seem offended. She dished food into two bowls, handed one to Adunni, then dropped into a low chair near the wall. The kind that creaked like it had heard a thousand secrets.
Adunni sat across from her, still holding her bowl like it might disappear if she blinked.
They ate in silence for a while. Kevwe watched her like a hawk—but didn't press further.
Not yet.
Adunni knew this wasn't just kindness. The girl—Kevwe—was dangerous. But something told her she could be trusted. Maybe.
If she played it right.