By 9:00 PM, the barracks was shrouded in a heavy, humid darkness. Adekunle sat on his squeaky iron bed, his entire body aching from the thousands of grass strands he had cut under the unforgiving sun. His hands were raw, covered in ruptured blisters, and his skinhead felt like it was on fire.A sharp knock rattled the wooden door, and before he could answer, the door swung open.It wasn't Corporal Titus. It was his father's personal military assistant, a cold-faced Captain who never smiled."Stand up, Boy. Follow me," the Captain ordered, his voice barely a whisper. "The Chief wants to see you."Adekunle dragged his exhausted body out of the room, expecting another round of punishment. But instead of being led back to the main mansion, the Captain guided him through a hidden, unlit pathway behind the military trucks, stopping at a secluded, underground concrete bunker.Inside, the air smelled of expensive cigars and heavy liquor. Chief Solomon sat behind a metal table, looking over map diagrams and folders filled with profiles of top politicians and rival military generals."Sit down," Chief Solomon said, not looking up from his files.Adekunle sat nervously, his eyes fixed on his father. "Papa... I am sorry about the video. Titus really showed me pepper today. I have learned my lesson."Chief Solomon finally raised his head, a dark, chilling smile spreading across his face. He poured a shot of expensive whiskey and slid it across the table to his son."You think today was a punishment, Adekunle?" Chief Solomon chuckled, a low, dangerous sound. "If I wanted to punish you, I would have left you in that police cell to rot. Today was a test. I needed to see if that soft, pampered skin of yours could survive even a little friction."Adekunle blinked, completely confused, his hand freezing over the whiskey glass. "A test?""The current Chief of Army Staff is retiring in three months," Solomon said, leaning forward, his eyes gleaming with a terrifying hunger for absolute power. "That seat belongs to me. The Presidency is hesitant, and my political rivals are trying to block my promotion. In this country, you do not wait for power to be given to you. You grab it by the throat."He tapped a thick folder on the desk. "To get to the top, I cannot use official military troops. The international community is watching. I need shadows. I need the street."Adekunle's heart began to hammer against his ribs. "The street?""I control the major street gangs across Lagos and Abuja," Chief Solomon revealed coldly, his voice dripping with raw corruption. "They handle the dirty disruptions, the underground funding, and the silencing of stubborn people for me. But street boys are like wild dogs—they only follow a leader who is wilder than them. They will never respect a billionaire's son who wears designer shirts and cries over a police scuffle."The reality hit Adekunle like a physical blow. His father didn't want him to become a good citizen. He wanted him to become a warlord."I bought off that police officer, Sunday, to buy us time and create a media distraction," Chief Solomon continued, his eyes locking onto his son's. "But you are going to stay in these quarters. You will train with Titus. You will learn how to handle pain, how to handle weapons, and how to command fear. In two weeks, you are going to take over the leadership of the Area Boys in the mainland. You will be my eyes, my ears, and my iron fist on the streets."Chief Solomon stood up, his massive frame casting a long shadow over the bunker wall."The internet thinks you are an actor in a Nollywood movie, Adekunle. Let them keep playing. But by the time you leave this barracks, you will be the most dangerous scriptwriter this country has ever seen. Drink your whiskey. Your real training begins tomorrow."
