The last sounds of celebration at the Black family compound finally died down as the night grew deeper. But for Tony, the quiet simply meant the start of his real work. His family, happy to have their cousin back, went to bed. Their calm lives were untouched by the dark shadows that now followed Kene. Tony, though, couldn't rest. The words from the Small Boss, brought by the worried messenger – Oraka Lane, no matter what, even if na blood – kept playing in his mind.
He knew Kene wouldn't waste time. Kene was always moving, always ready for action. Tony found him in the compound's guest annex, a small separate building mostly used by family when they visited. Kene was already on his phone, his voice low and tight, giving orders. Tony caught bits of what he was saying: "...Eiye no dey play... Agbassa... tonight... sharp, sharp."
Tony stepped inside. The air was thick with old cigarette smoke, a smell common on the streets. It was very different from the fresh, clean air of the main house. Kene ended his call, his eyes, still sharp from his time away, fixed on Tony.
"Na my boys," Kene said, a grim smile on his face. "Dem dey ready. We move by nine."
A cold dread settled in Tony's stomach. Nine? That was too fast. "Kene," he started, trying to keep his voice steady, "my boys still dey gather intel. We just found out about this Scorpion Prince. He's new, from Lagos. We need to understand how he thinks, who he works with, before we just charge in. Oga, this thing no be like before. The streets have changed." Tony used 'Oga' to show respect, acknowledging Kene's rank and his recent return.
Kene made a short, dismissive sound. "Intel, intel! Na wetin put me for inside before. Thinking too much. This kind fight, you don't think it, you feel it. You show strength. You don forget how we dey operate?" He walked to a small, dusty table and pulled out a crumpled map of Warri. It wasn't a neat map like those from school. This one was old, stained, covered with faded lines that only made sense to those who knew the hidden territories.
He pointed a finger at Oraka Lane. "This na our bloodline, Tony. Our source." His finger moved across the map to Agbassa. "Dem hit us here. We hit dem back harder, right where dem sleep. That's how you send a message. That's how Eiye stays on top. You wan make dem think say we soft?"
Tony looked at the map, then at Kene. He respected Kene deeply. Kene was like an older brother who had shown him the ways of the street, the real power. Kene had been there when Tony was just a young boy, trying to understand a world that didn't fit his rich home life. Tony's loyalty was deeper than simple plans. He trusted Kene's gut feeling, even if it was rough. And a part of him, the street part, understood why they needed a fast, strong response.
"Mba nu, Kene," Tony said, using a soft Igbo phrase he often heard from his mother. His voice held a slight hesitation. "I just dey talk say make we plan well. Make we no lose our men for nothing." He knew Kene sometimes used Igbo words too, especially with family or when thinking deeply, showing their shared background. Tony's father, Papa Ejike, would often mix his strict commands with Yoruba phrases like "Omo mi, ranti oro mi," (My child, remember my words), making them sound more important. Tony, too, had learned this way of speaking, a subtle blend of his roots.
Kene stopped walking back and forth. He looked at Tony, his eyes sharp, watching him closely. Tony, in his loyal way, didn't see the quick flicker of doubt, the brief thought in Kene's mind: Is this boy getting too smart? Does he think he can lead better than me? Kene quickly pushed the thought away. Tony was loyal. He had to be.
"Tony, mo gbo," Kene said, a Yoruba phrase meaning "I understand," but his voice sounded impatient. "I hear your point. But the Small Boss just confirmed it. No time for long talk. Na action dem want." He tapped the map. "This na what we go do. Godwin go lead the main charge. Twenty boys. Ten with cutlasses, ten with bottles and sticks. Dem go hit the main hideout for Agbassa, cause confusion."
Kene paused, his eyes narrowing. "Tony, you and your small crew… your school boys. You go handle their lookout points. You go silence any opposition wey dey watch the street, make dem not see us coming. Then you join Godwin for the main attack." He pointed to a small alley on the map. "You enter from here. No give dem chance."
Tony nodded. This was his part: the quiet, precise strike. He understood the need for speed and accuracy. "I go make sure all our boys dey ready. Won't be a problem, Kene."
Kene clapped him on the shoulder again, a final gesture. "Good. No dulling. Make we show dem say Eiye still dey fly for Warri."
As Kene started making more calls, Tony stepped out of the guest annex. The cool night air felt heavy around him. He trusted Kene, he truly did. But Kene's old way of being reckless, now made sharper by his time away and his strong need to get his power back, worried Tony. He knew Kelvin, the Scorpion Prince, was a clever enemy. This wouldn't be a simple street fight.
The Scorpion's Web: Final Preparations in Agbassa
Hours later, as the Warri night moved closer to morning, Kelvin, the Scorpion Prince, stood deep inside his broken-down warehouse. The air now hummed with a different kind of energy. No more casual weed smoke. Now it was the cold shine of sharpened cutlasses, the low clinking of empty bottles being gathered for smashing, the nervous whispers of young men getting ready.
Kelvin watched them, his eyes seeing everything. His network had given him information: Kene, the newly released Eiye leader, was eager. And he was acting exactly as Kelvin had guessed.
"Dem go come," Kelvin said, his voice a low, steady command that cut through the tense air. He spoke to his trusted helper, a quiet but fierce man named Ovie, who had been the main fighter before Kelvin arrived. "Kene no go dull. Him go want make dem feel am. Fast. Hard."
Ovie nodded, running his thumb along the sharp edge of his cutlass. "Our boys don dey ready, Prince. We don place dem. Sniper for the rooftop, others for the alleyways. No escape for them."
Kelvin walked to the rough map spread on the table. It was now covered with new marks, small stones and broken glass pieces showing positions. "Good. Tell the boys by the old market to act normal. No give away our position. Let them think we are just waiting. The moment Eiye steps into Oraka Lane, thinking they are smart and quiet, our lookouts go off." He pointed to several small alleys. "That's where they enter. That's where we close them in. Trap them like rats."
He turned to his other men. "Remember, this is not just about Oraka Lane. This is about showing all of Warri that the Red Scorpions are here to take over. No mercy. We cut them deep."
A young man, barely older than Tony, adjusted his worn baseball cap. "What about the small shop, Prince? Your brother…?"
Kelvin's eyes hardened. "My brother is a business man. He knows nothing. He will be safe. But his shop, that small spot, is a perfect place for their boys to watch us. So, we make sure that place is clear before we move." He paused, a cruel smile forming. "And if any of their boys come close before the big attack, we teach them a lesson. A painful one."
He looked at the faces around him, lit by the single bare bulb hanging above. Fear and strong will mixed in their eyes. "Warri is ready to be taken," Kelvin said, his voice almost a whisper, yet it carried the weight of a king. "And the Red Scorpions are the ones who will wear the crown."
The Clash: Agbassa Turns to Blood
The night air was heavy, humid, and still. The streetlights flickered, creating long, moving shadows. In Agbassa, usually a busy area, a strange quiet had settled. It was just after 9 PM.
Tony moved like a ghost through the narrow alleys. His small crew – Emeka, Jide, and Kunle – were silent behind him. They were dressed in dark clothes, their faces serious. Kunle, usually busy with his gadgets, carried a short, strong stick. Emeka and Jide had small, sharp knives hidden in their belts. Tony carried his own, longer knife, its handle cool against his hand. Their job was to clear the immediate lookouts, to open the path for Godwin's main crew.
Suddenly, a faint whistle pierced the air. It was a signal. Too late.
From the shadows of a broken-down building, two figures appeared, holding rusty cutlasses. "Eiye!" one yelled, his voice rough. Tony reacted instantly. "Jide, Emeka, left! Kunle, right flank!" he whispered, his voice a low command.
The fight was fast and brutal. Jide, quick despite his size, dodged a swinging cutlass, then moved in, his knife flashing. Emeka pinned the other attacker against a wall. Kunle, surprising everyone, used his stick to trip a third figure who was trying to attack them from the side, sending him falling. Tony moved smoothly, his knife a silent blur. He didn't want to kill, not like this, not if he didn't have to. He aimed for legs or arms, to stop them. The cries of the two Red Scorpions quickly ended as Jide and Emeka finished their work. They were down, dark blood staining the dusty ground. Tony didn't look back. There was no time.
"Clear! Move!" Tony hissed, pushing his crew forward.
They came out into a wider street. And then, everything exploded into chaos.
Godwin's main Eiye force, twenty strong, had just rushed into the street, shouting war cries. They carried rough weapons: shining cutlasses, heavy sticks, broken bottles with sharp edges. They expected a direct charge, a show of overwhelming power.
But the Red Scorpions were ready.
From the rooftops, dark figures threw down stones and bottles. From hidden doorways and dark corners, more Scorpions appeared, not just with cutlasses, but with a few short, loud gunshots. These were homemade guns, "gbi-gbi," dangerous and not easy to control. The air filled with shouts, screams, the wet thud of blows, and the sharp, shocking sound of gunfire.
"Ambush! They set us up!" Godwin roared, his voice thick with anger and surprise. His boys, caught in the open, scattered, fighting for their lives.
An Eiye boy, no older than sixteen, stumbled, clutching his stomach as dark blood spread on his white shirt. He fell, unmoving. Another screamed as a bottle smashed against his head, making him fall. The sounds of breaking bones, raw pain, filled the night.
Tony saw it all. The organized chaos. The Red Scorpions weren't just fighting; they were forcing the Eiye boys into specific areas where they could kill them. Kene's reckless charge had walked right into Kelvin's trap.
"Fall back! Fall back to the main road!" Tony yelled, his voice raw. He knew they couldn't win this direct fight. He dragged a wounded Eiye boy behind a parked truck, ignoring the boy's cries. "Kunle, call Kene! Tell him we need to pull out! This one na set-up!"
Just as Kunle fumbled for his phone, a loud, piercing scream cut through the noise. It came from a small, dimly lit provision store, near the market junction. It was the shop Kelvin's brother owned.
Inside, a young man, Kelvin's younger brother, Chike, was frantically trying to hide something under the counter – small, clear sachets, not the usual shop goods. His eyes were wide with fear. He had been getting ready for a late-night delivery, thinking no one would be around. But a group of Eiye boys, separated from Godwin's main force, had stumbled upon his shop. They saw the illegal drugs, a clear sign of Red Scorpion activity beyond just street fights.
"Spy!" one Eiye boy yelled, seeing Chike's panic and the hidden stash. "Na their man!"
Chike tried to run, but they were too many. They dragged him out of the shop, ignoring his desperate pleas. He screamed once more, a desperate, fading cry, before a flash of steel, and then, silence. A life was ended, a grim cost of the street war.
Kelvin's Fury & The Arrival of the Green
In the Red Scorpions' hidden command post, Kelvin's phone buzzed. It was a rapid call from one of his lookouts. Kelvin put it to his ear, his face grim.
"Prince! Dem get problem for Oraka Lane junction! The Eiye boys… dem kill Chike! Your brother! Him dey for ground!" The voice was frantic, breathless.
Kelvin froze. The world seemed to stop. Chike. His little brother. The one he had specifically told to stay safe, to just run the shop. The one who was key to their real operation – the small-scale drug distribution that was slowly, silently, bringing in big money and new connections for the Scorpions. The one who was preparing a shipment for the 'Oga in Lagos', the true power backing Kelvin's expansion.
Rage, cold and pure, washed over Kelvin. This wasn't just a street war now. This was personal. This was a direct, unforgivable insult.
His phone buzzed again, a different number. He answered. "Yes, Oga."
A deep, calm voice, with a Lagos accent, came through. "Kelvin, I hear things are getting messy. You were supposed to be clean, sharp. Not this kind of street noise."
"Oga, dem kill my brother!" Kelvin's voice was tight, barely controlled. "My younger brother. Him dey for ground!"
A pause. "That is… unfortunate, Kelvin. But remember our agreement. Oraka Lane is critical. The push into Warri is critical. The supply chain cannot be broken. We need this city. And if street skirmishes become a problem for the bigger picture, then you are a problem. Clear this up. Make them regret it. No distractions. And ensure the remaining goods are secured." The line went dead.
Kelvin squeezed the phone, his knuckles white. The Oga in Lagos. The real reason behind the Red Scorpions' aggressive expansion – a larger drug network wanting to secure a new distribution hub in Warri, with Oraka Lane as the gateway. Chike's death was a direct blow to that. And it was a personal wound that tore through Kelvin's cold strategic façade.
"They killed Chike!" Kelvin roared to his men, his voice shaking with a fury that startled even Ovie. "Eiye killed my brother! Forget the trap! We go finish them! No one leaves Agbassa tonight!"
Security's Intervention & The Bloody Escape
The first patrol van, a Nigerian Police Force pick-up, arrived minutes later. Two officers, a burly Inspector named Musa and a younger Constable Emeka, were in it. They had heard the distant gunshots and confused screams. This was typical cult violence, but the intensity felt different.
"Stay calm! Hands up!" Inspector Musa yelled, stepping out, his old rifle raised. Constable Emeka, younger and less experienced, fumbled with his own weapon.
The sight of the police made the chaos stop for a moment. Both Eiye and Red Scorpions scattered, melting into alleys and dark compounds like water. But the pause was short. The fight was too hot, the anger too strong.
From a rooftop, a Red Scorpion fighter, filled with Kelvin's fresh rage, saw the police. They were just uniforms, blocking the way. A single, sharp crack of a rifle. Inspector Musa cried out, clutching his chest, falling backward. Constable Emeka screamed, turning to his fallen boss, just as another shot rang out, hitting him. He dropped, lifeless. Two lives lost in the chaos.
The street exploded again, even more brutal. The Eiye boys, seeing the police down, knew it was their chance to escape. They used the short distraction to push past the remaining Red Scorpions. Godwin, his face smeared with blood, yelled orders. "Scatter! Every man for himself! Re-group for Oraka Lane!"
Tony, pulling the wounded Eiye boy, saw the fallen police officers. He felt a cold shiver. Innocent lives, now security lives, lost in this brutal war. He looked at the chaos, the desperate fight, the sheer, ruthless plan of the Red Scorpions' ambush. Kene's recklessness had cost them dearly.
"Move!" Tony urged his own small crew. They were too few, too exposed. They slipped through a narrow gap between two buildings. The sounds of fighting, the screams, and the growing wail of police sirens faded behind them. They ran, filled with adrenaline, into the deeper, safer darkness of Warri.
The main roads were now filling with police vans, their sirens growing louder. But the main groups of Eiye and Red Scorpions, having done their damage, disappeared into the huge, complex maze of Warri's streets. They knew how to vanish, knowing every shortcut, every hidden path, every house where they could find help. The security forces, though they eventually took control of the immediate area, would find mostly empty streets, bloodstains, and the bodies of those who had fallen, both cult members and innocent people caught in the violence. The underworld, for now, had simply swallowed its own.