Welcome, dear reader!

This is going to be one heck of a dual journey we’re embarking on! Delving into one of the darkest parts of Dabarville for this one. Let’s get into it…

“Leo’s ready for you. Move.”

It was midnight, and a heavy silence enveloped the dimly lit alley in the warehouse district. Izar, Bricky, and Santos – the three young men barely out of their teens – nodded nervously at the two burly guards in black leather jackets with the 7Katz insignia (a claw-slash seven) stitched on the back, their hearts pounding furiously against their chests.

The tension could not have been weightier on them at that moment. Izar could literally feel his stomach twist. Bricky shifted his weight, his sneakers scuffing the gravel. Santos, usually the loudmouth of the trio, was silent, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets.

This was a huge moment for them. A really, really huge moment for them.

They were budding recruits for 7Katz, a drug ring led by seven ruthless men. They’d been shadowing distributors for weeks, learning the ropes and impressing the guys they were assisting. This evening, however, was different.

Leo, the top leader of the 7Katz—named after the lion and just as fierce—had an assignment for them.

Nobody ever faced the top cat of this cartel unless he called for them, and if he did call for them, it usually meant one of two things: he was extremely displeased with them and was about to delete them, or he was deeply pleased with them and had a reward for them, which was usually a promotion and a job.

They knew, however, that even with the latter, a greater level of responsibility came with greater danger. This man took his empire very seriously, and while he could charm you into thinking you were family as you climbed up the ladder, he would happily gut you like a fish if you messed up in any manner.

And that was the reason for their nervousness. As pleased as they were to have caught the master’s eye, his ruthlessness could not be ignored.

The guards led them through the door, down a narrow hallway lit by slightly blinding fluorescent lights, to a heavy oak door. One of the guards knocked twice, then pushed it open.

“Go.”

They stepped in and immediately marveled at the scene before them.

Leo’s office was a stark contrast to the grimy warehouse outside, with plush rugs, a sleek bar cart, and a lion’s head carved into the wall adorning the room. Behind the polished desk, right below the carving of the lion’s head, sat the man himself.

Leo.

Nobody knew his real name or that of the other six leaders. All they knew was that they were named after each of the big cats.

And that they each carried a level of ferocity almost identical to the big cat they were named after.

He was slightly plump and looked like he was in his mid-forties, with sharp cheekbones and a warm smile that didn’t reach his cold, brown eyes. His tailored suit looked as if it had cost more than the GDP of a third-world nation.

“Boys,” he started, his voice warm and smooth as whiskey, gesturing to three chairs. “Sit down, sit down. It’s so good to have you here.”

They instantly sat, his welcoming words doing little to ease the tension they felt. Izar’s palms were slick with sweat while Bricky and Santos stared at the floor.

Leo leaned back, steepling his fingers. “So, the reason I’ve called you here is very simple. You’ve been doing well, shadowing my best. I’ve heard good things about you three. You’ve seen how we work. Now it’s time to prove yourselves. I’m giving you a chance to show how useful you can be to 7Katz.”

His smile widened, almost fatherly. “A simple job. There’s a stash—two kilos, prepackaged. Clients are expecting it in a couple of hours. You three are to deliver it. No pit stops, no time-wasting. Just get it to them and return.”

He slid a folded piece of paper across the desk. Izar grabbed it, his fingers trembling slightly. An address was scrawled in neat ink.

“Easy, right?” Leo’s tone was light, like he was handing them a grocery list. He stood and walked over to the bar cart to pour himself a drink, the ice cubes clinking softly as he dropped them in the glass before pouring himself some whiskey. “You do this right, you’re on your way up. And you can be assured that we’ll help you get to the very top. We take care of our own, you know.”

He took a sip from the glass.

Then he turned to them, his eyes steely as the warmth in his voice suddenly vanished. “But… if you fuck this up – if you’re late, if you talk, if you so much as fail to deliver the goods – there’s no place in this city you can hide from me. And when I find you, it will NOT be pretty. At all. Understand?”

The air grew heavy with that threat.

Izar’s throat tightened. Bricky froze, almost scared to even flinch. Santos swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. They nodded in unison, not daring to speak.

Leo’s smile returned, but it was sharp. “Good boys. I knew you’d get the hint. Now, get moving. Those clients are waiting.”

They nodded again and rose to their feet, obediently moving as the guards ushered them out.

The door slammed behind them.

***

As they stepped into the dimly lit hallway, their hearts still pounding from the emotional strike of that threat, a hulking figure emerged from the shadows.

As he stepped into view, they recognized him immediately.

Tigris, the second-in-command of the 7Katz.

Obviously named after the tiger, and far fiercer than Leo ever was, he loomed before them, his muscular frame seeming to fill the narrow corridor as his arms, thick as tree trunks, folded across his chest. His dark eyes bored into them with a glare that could frighten non-living objects into a state of consciousness.

This man was the scariest of the top cats; a man whose name alone made hardened gangsters flinch with fear. They said he’d once crushed a traitor’s windpipe with his bare hands, and the way his knuckles scarred and thickened, no one doubted it.

“You three,” Tigris growled, his voice a low rumble. “Did you pay attention to everything Leo told you?”

Izar’s mouth went dry, but he managed a shaky nod. “Y-yes, sir. We got it.”

Bricky and Santos stammered in agreement, their voices barely above whispers. “Yeah, we heard him,” Bricky responded. Santos just nodded, eyes wide.

Tigris stepped closer, his words slow and deliberate. “Good. Because if you fuck this up, you’re as good as dead in my hands.” He unfolded his arms and pointed a thick finger at them. “Nobody gets any second chances here. Especially not with me. Get it right, or you won’t even have a fucking body to be buried when I’m done with you.”

Without another word, he turned and stalked down the hallway, his heavy footsteps echoing until he disappeared around a corner.

The trio stood frozen, the air thick with dread.

Izar’s hands trembled as he clutched the paper with the address. Bricky let out a shaky breath, and Santos muttered a curse under his breath.

“Fucking hell, man.”

Leo’s warning had been chilling, but Tigris’s threat was a promise of violence that left them well and truly shaken.

There was no doubt; they had to carry out this mission with no hitches whatsoever. And they had to move quickly. The clock was still ticking, and the job wasn’t going to wait.

***

About an hour later, an old sedan containing the trio rumbled through the city’s underbelly, with the two kilos of product stashed in a duffel bag in the trunk. Bricky was at the wheel, his eyes constantly darting between the road and the rearview mirror. Santos sat shotgun, clutching the crumpled paper with the drop point’s address, while Izar sat at the back.

They had less than an hour and a half to make the delivery, so the atmosphere was as tense as could be, with nobody uttering a word as the car made its way through the empty streets.

A few minutes, later, however, and as Izar shifted uncomfortably in the back seat, his face twisting, he had to break the silence.

“Chale, guys,” he muttered, “I need to pee.”

Santos turned in his seat, shooting him a glare. “Huh? You say what?”

“I need to pee, chale.”

“Are you fucking serious, bro? Hold it in. You should’ve gone before we left.”

“Yeah,” Bricky added, eyes fixed on the road. “Drinking all that water like an ofui, na what you dey expect? Massa, Leo said, no stops. No stops it is.”

Izar squirmed, pressing his thighs together. “I was just nervous, chale. I didn’t think it’d hit me this fast. Come on, I beg, it’ll be quick.”

“Forget it!” Santos snapped. “You heard Tigris. We mess this up, we’re dead. Hold it. Like a man.”

The car fell silent again, the tension thicker than before.

Izar stared out the window, trying to focus on the passing streetlights in an attempt to take his mind off the urge. Unfortunately, the pressure in his bladder wasn’t ready to be ignored, growing unbearable with each passing minute.

Twenty minutes later, he leaned forward, voice desperate and faint. “Chale, guys, I beg. I dey die for here. Just let me empty my bladder, one quick stop.”

Bricky’s hands tightened on the wheel. “Fuck no! No stops, Izar. Leo was clear. Tigris was clearer. You wan die over pissing matter or what?”

“I can’t hold it!” Izar pleaded, his hands between his thighs. “I beg, just a quick stop, like thirty seconds!”

Santos twisted in his seat, his glare as furious as ever. “You wan explain to Tigris why we make late? You no see the way that nigga threaten we? Massa! Hold. It. In.”

“Yo, yo, yo, I make wild for here,” Izar pleaded, his voice rising. “If you no stop, I go pee put here make the car smell.”

Santos’ eyes blazed. “Herh! Nigga, make you no try that shit! Or I go hurt you!”

“Try me!” Izar shot back, his desperation outweighing his fear. “Bricky, stop this fucking car right now, or I go piss for here!”

Bricky cursed under his breath. “Your morda waa, you hear? Stupid motherfucker!”

After a tense pause, he jerked the wheel, pulling into a dimly lit fuel station with a flickering neon sign. He stopped the car at the side, then glared at Izar.

“One minute, Izar. In and out, or I swear we go lef you here. If Tigris find you alone, no be our matter.”

Izar nodded frantically, already halfway out the door. “I’ll be quick, I swear.”

“Comot for there! Idiot!”

***

Inside the dingy bathroom, Izar let out a long sigh of relief as he emptied his bladder, the tension in his body easing for the first time all night.

“Oh, the sweet relief!” he sighed as he zipped up, after almost half a minute of letting out all the accumulated piss. He looked at himself in the mirror for a moment as he washed his hands, then nodded, ready to bolt back to the car.

As he turned toward the door, though, raised voices pierced the silence.

Bricky’s sharp tone and Santos’s louder, panicked one.

“Oh, come on, chale!”

“Please, we beg, don’t do this!”

He froze, his heart lurching. “What dey go on?” he wondered.

He cracked the bathroom door open and peered out.

His blood ran cold.

“What the fuc…”

A police car, lights off but unmistakable, was parked behind their sedan. A tall officer stood by the driver’s side, his hand on his holster, barking orders at his partners.

“Step out of the vehicle, now!”

“Oh, officer, we dey beg…”

Before Izar could fully process it, another officer emerged from the police car, moving swiftly to the passenger side. Without warning, he pulled a taser and fired.

Santos jerked violently, his body crumpling against the seat.

Bricky shouted, but the first officer was already on him, taser crackling. The young man slumped forward, unconscious, his head hitting the steering wheel.

Izar’s breath caught in his throat as the officers yanked open the car doors, dragging Santos and Bricky’s limp bodies onto the pavement. One of them reached into the trunk, pulling out the duffel bag with the stash. They moved with practiced efficiency, no hesitation, no questions. They slung the bag into their cruiser, tossed the unconscious boys in the back, and peeled out of the station, tires screeching into the night.

These clearly were not regular cops. These were the corrupt type, probably working for a rival of 7Katz.

And as Izar stood rooted, horror washing over him, he knew he had just played him and his boys into their hands.

And the bad books of 7Katz leadership.

His boys were gone, the stash was gone, and the mission was a failure. All because of his insistence on taking a leak, even though they were ordered not to make any pit stops.

And there would be only one outcome once this failure was discovered.

Death. A painful, excruciating death.

I failed… I failed them… and they’ll kill me if they find me… they’ll kill me… they’ll kill me…

His legs moved before his brain caught up, and he ran, sprinting away from the fuel station into the dark, weaving through alleys and side streets. He didn’t know where he was going—only that he had to get away.

Far away from Leo and Tigris’s wrath.

Far away from 7Katz.

Oh boy, Izar messed up badly on this one, didn’t he? As he’s running now, who’s he going to encounter?