One Hundred and Ninety Eight

The engagement – Part 1…

As narrated by Dee:

“I need clothes! Amz! I don’t have anything to wear! Get up!” I exclaim, all in one breath.

A giggle erupts from under the duvets and I scowl.

“What’s so funny?!” I huff, tugging at the duvet to reveal a grinning Amz.

“What do you mean you have nothing to wear?” asks Amz, sitting up and pulling the duvet around her.

Moving away from the bed, I fling open my cupboard doors and look pointedly at Amz.

“Those blue jeans you usually wear with that white T looks good,” she remarks, picking up her phone.

“Are you mad?!” I gasp in horror. “I can’t wear that in front of Aunty Fahmida! It’s so tight!”

“Stop it!” I shout, when she tries to stifle her laughter unsuccessfully once again.

“Sorry, sorry!” she says, turning serious “How about that green jumper?”

“No way! It’s so short!” I exclaim, placing it against my body to show her.

“All your stuff is around that length,” Amz says thoughtfully, frowning.

“Exactly! So what am I going to wear?!” I ask.

Amz lips twitch.

“NOTHING IS FUNNY! STOP LAUGHING!” I yell, flinging the jumper onto the bed.

Amz dissolves into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

“Oh god,” I mumble, feeling tears prick my eyes.

Sliding against the cupboard door, I sit down heavily, dropping my head into my hands.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” laughs Amz.

I hear her get up and walk towards me.

“It’s just so funny,” says Amz, sitting down next to me and squeezing my shoulder. “How you’re freaking out. It’s just Zee’s family! You’ve known them since forever, it’s going to be fine! You need to chill!”

“You are not helping,” I say, looking up and glaring at her.

“Hey! Don’t cry!” she gasps, seeing my teary eyes. “I’m sorry. I won’t laugh anymore. It’s just funny because 3 days ago you couldn’t be bothered about what to wear and now you’re freaking out – for the same people!”

“Yeah well that time it was different,” I mutter, wiping my eyes.

That time Zee was just my friend. Aunty Fahmida was simply my friend’s mother. Humairah was my friend’s sister.

Now there was a whole new dimension to it!

“I should have went shopping!” I say in regret, looking through my clothes again. “What am I going to do?!”

“Let me wash and brush and I’ll come see what we can do,” says Amz, squeezing my shoulder gently again before getting up.

I retie the strings of my toweling gown and reach for my phone.

Tapping in my password, I open WhatsApp and read through my messages, then scroll for a bit through my social media.

5 minutes later, Amz walks out of the bathroom, looking much fresher.

“I thought you’d have my coffee ready by now,” she jokes, pulling her long brown hair into a messy bun.

“I’m thinking.. Sumayya and you are the same size, isn’t?” says Amz, picking up her phone.

“Yeah, more or less,” I say.

“Maybe you can borrow something of hers?” suggests Amz.

“Okay, let me call her and see while you get your coffee,” I say.

Amz exists the room and I ring up Sumayya.

“Assalamu Alaykum,” greets her sleepy voice.

“You’re sleeping?!” I gasp. “Wa Alaykum Salaam. You need to get up right now. I have a dilemma.”

“What happened? Are you fine?” she asks instantly, much more awake now.

I smile.

Despite not knowing her for as many years as Amz, often I find myself realizing just how much I love Sumayya.

“I’m fine, just at the end of my nerves thinking about this afternoon,” I say.

“Oh thank goodness!” she breathes. “What’s the dilemma then? I’m guessing you need shoes?”

“Worse,” I groan. “I need clothes.”

“Ooh, do I get to dress you for your engagement?!” she asks excitedly, all traces of sleep now gone.

I laugh.

“Yeah, but you need to bring clothes too, please,” I say. “Whatever you think will suit me. Not something too fancy but like -”

“Yeah, yeah, I know! I’ve got you sorted, don’t stress,” she says with a yawn. “Can you give me half an hour?”

I glance at the time.

10:15 am.

“Yeah that should be good,” I say.

“Perfect, see you then.”


“Yes, yes, yes! This one! You look amazing!” squeals Sumayya, clapping her hands in glee as I slip into what seems like the hundredth outfit, which happens to be a dress.

“Are you sure?” I ask, eyeing myself from every angle possible in front of the mirror, unconvinced.

“Amz!” hollers Sumayya. “I think we’ve got it.”

I hear Amz footsteps as they draw closer.

She enters the room and then stops abruptly, spotting me.

“Oh my god, yes!” she gasps, her eyes shining. “You look amazing!”

“Who knew Dee could rock a dress!” she teases.

“I know right,” says Sumayya, beaming. “I’m not taking this one back. It looks better on her than it does on me!”

“Oh shush you guys,” I say, suddenly feeling shy. “Are you sure I don’t look too…”

“Too what?” they ask in unison.

“I don’t know,” I shrug, surveying myself in the mirror again. “Too.. like..”

“Gorgeous?” asks Sumayya. “Hell yeah. You do look too gorgeous!”

“Sumayyyaaaa!” I exclaim.

“Too… different,” I say a moment later, finally finding the right word.

“You do,” says Amz truthfully. “But good different.”

“Come on now, we’re not completely done! You need shoes! And your hair! What are we doing with your hair?”

“Urm, did you bring shoes? I don’t own sandals.. nor pumps,” I admit, wincing slightly.

“You are ridiculous, honestly!” says Sumayya, opening a bag containing a couple of shoes. “I hope something fits!”

Another half an hour later, and I’m fully ready – top to toe.

“Right, now you can look,” says Sumayya, steering me by my shoulders to the mirror.

I lift my gaze and stare in surprise, the girl in the mirror someone I barely recognize.

The reality of everything hits me.. subtly, gently.

“Oh my god guys. Whose idea was this?” I ask in a whisper.

“Your heart’s,” Amz replies, just as softly. “And it was a damn good idea.”


One Hundred and Ninety Seven

Venom didn’t know what to do.

For the first time in a long time he was battling to make a decision.

Scar couldn’t understand why. To him, what needed to be done was as obvious as a single white rose in a bouquet of red ones.

They needed to recruit this girl ASAP. Get her on their side, train her and conquer all the things they couldn’t because of being an all male gang.

She had a remarkable brain, and an even more remarkable personality.

But what was most remarkable, was her ability to hide her emotions, to channel one emotion as another.

No one could do that except Venom. Scar laughed at funny things. Ali got excited on succeeding at something. Beast appreciated good food. As for Fang, he was the most human of them all.

Venom had read her file earlier that afternoon, after she successfully proved herself to him.

And many incidents in her life showed him, that she wasn’t being brave just in that moment.

She hadn’t been cocky and intelligent just to prove a point to them.

This was who she was.

It was her personality.

She had run away from home, got a place to live and quit school. She got a job, paid bills and lived independently.

She was not just brave – she was responsible, mature.

But Venom couldn’t quite understand her.

There was an aura of mystery to her.

He saw it in the way her eyes constantly changed, ever so subtly. He saw it in the way she tried to hide those changes. In the flickering of emotions which sometimes made her blue orbs sparkle, and other times set them ablaze – like when he’d called her the weak child of a man whom she failed to overpower.

He wanted to see how she would react.

She didn’t. Only her eyes did.

But it seemed to be like that with every emotion that passed through her.

Then, after batting his eyelids only a single time, her eyes were blank again and her head was cocked to the side, ever so slightly.

“Says a man whose father was too weak to raise him well enough so that he wouldn’t pick on girls half his age,” she’d said then.

Venom had almost put a bullet in her brain at that.

He decided to walk out at that moment instead.

He needed to first understand this girl. Then, he could challenge her.

But it was a long while later and he still couldn’t wrap his head around her.

He couldn’t break through that barrier of mystery which surrounded her, the one that stretched his curiosity to its end.

The realization was a bitter pill to swallow.

He had to get rid if her, before the troubled illusions she conjured in his mind drove him insane.


He couldn’t kill her..

..because she didn’t mind dying.

Ali needed to talk to Dayyanah. Alone.

He had a task to complete – a few, actually – but that would have to wait.

He needed to speak to her before Venom did so again.

Picking up his pace, Ali changes his direction, heading for Base 2 which is located within the graffiti covered walls of an abandoned railway tunnel.

Fang had once told him the story of the previous Base 2, which was a walking distance from the current one and also under the tunnel.

It had gone up in flames after they’d rigged up a bomb beneath one of its floorboards, to prevent two of their then captives from escaping.

Miraculously, they had.

All that remained now was a half-burnt shack.

But the hideout was too good to lose, so they’d constructed a similar building a few meters away. It was a two day job, because Base 2 was merely an empty room.

No work of importance or extreme confidentiality got done there.

Base 2 was where the subjects were kept, questioned, and many a time, killed.

It however did not have any less modern technology to secure its occupants.

Ali lifts his wrist to the keyhole of the door.

The sensor recognizes the identical scorpion tattoo each gang member has. Approving it, a beep emits and from the door handle a thin, narrow screen slides out.

Ali punches in the code and waits for the screen to slide back into place. It takes only about 1.7 seconds.

Then, to an ordinary person it looks exactly like an ordinary door once again.

Ali opens the door and walks in.

Dayyanah had been tapping the floor, trying to find a hollow, a possible escape, when she heard the door opening.

Spinning on her heel, she comes face to face with one of the men she’d seen yesterday.

Ali shuts the door and gets straight to the point.

“I know who you are,” he says.

Dayy frowns.

“Yeah, well, aren’t you suppose to know who I am?” she asks.

“I know you how the others don’t,” says Ali, rephrasing his sentence.

Her frown deepens momentarily, then disappears. Her face is now blank again.

“And that is?” she asks.

“You have a twin. Her name is Deeyanah,” says Ali, watching her carefully.

“I do,” she says. “But your boss knows that. He is the boss, right?”

Ali ignores her question.

“Deeyanah has a best friend. Her name is Amaani. Amaani Ahmad.”

“Correct,” replies Dayy. “But your boss knows that, too.”

“I worked for Amaani’s father for more years than you lived with a loving father.”

Dayyanah almost flinches. Almost.

“Are you getting to the part where you tell me how you know me unlike the others?” she asks.

“I know Amaani. We grew up together. So did your sister. Which means, so did you.”

“I can’t quite remember you,” says Dayyanah. “Which means you probably can’t remember much of me either. Besides, even if you did, it wouldn’t matter because I’ve obviously grown and changed.”

“But,” she goes on after a brief pause. “Now that we’ve figured out how we’re related, are you going be a good relative and let me out of this shithole?”

“Not until you tell me where’s Amaani,” says Ali.

Dayy allows her jaw to drop open.

“Are you kidding me?!” she laughs. “You’re practically the FBI, the CIA, I don’t know. If you know who she grew up with, surely it will be a piece of cake tracking her down.”

“Save me the trouble, I’m a busy man,” Ali replies.

“You’re ridiculous, honestly! You should be fired!” says Dayy, shaking her head.

“But, seriously speaking,” she continues a moment later, her laughter subsiding. “I have absolutely no clue myself. So when you do find out, please let me know also. It might help me find my sister.”

Ali stares at her silently.

She was ridiculous. No one ever laughed in his presence. And how was she so..Β frankΒ about everything?!

“What makes you think I’m going to believe that?” asks Ali.

“Oh come on! If I knew where my sister was, do you think I’d be living alone and washing greasy dishes to buy food?! And if I don’t know where she is, how do you expect me to know where her best friend is?”

She had a point.

“Now can you stop wasting my time! Call your boss. I’m already 2 hours late for work.”

“We can’t keep her,” Venom says to the four men sitting before him.

Scar swears, standing up in protest.

“Hai-ya boss, I was looking forward to having a female in the house,” complains Fang.

“But she’s too good to let go!” frowns Beast.

Ali doesn’t say anything.

Venom realizes and looks at him questioningly.

“Do you want me to return her today?” asks Ali, not voicing his opinion.

He was secretly glad but no one would come to know that.

“You can’t let her go!” says Scar. “We’ve never let anyone go before!”

He appears to be the most agitated, which gives Venom the impression that Fang wasn’t the only one eager to have a female in their midst.

“Yeah,” agrees Beast. “Surely she’s not going to keep her mouth shut.”

“She will,” says Venom. “If she wants us to keep our mouths shut.”

It’s silent for a moment.

“About what?” asks Fang.

“She’s hiding from her family,” explains Venom. “We can easily figure out where they are, and she knows that.”

Ali almost smiles.

Venom has got it wrong.

Well, partially, anyway.

She was hiding, but not because she didn’t want to be with them. It was because she was too afraid, too ashamed to show her face after all this time.

But Ali didn’t say anything.

For some odd reason, he just didn’t want to have to kill this girl.

Which was exactly what Scar suggested next.

“Kill her then! There’s no way we can let her just go!”

“We can’t kill her. That will be giving her what she wants. We don’t do that,” says Venom.

“Neither do we let people go,” mutters Beast.

“Enough!!” roars Venom, suddenly, his temper flaring. “Don’t question my decision! I thought this through thoroughly.”

Of course he did.

He thought everything through thoroughly.

And he really was making the right decision letting Dayyanah go.

Hey. Hi. Hello. Salaam. Bonjour. Salut. Ciao. Ahoj. Bog. Marhaba. Ola.Β πŸ˜€

Annnd that’s the end of this segment. Coming up in the next couple of posts will be #Zeeyanah’s wedding, Insha Allah! πŸ’ƒπŸŽ‰

Much Love,Β 

Troubled Illusioner. ❀

One Hundred and Ninety Six

Hey. Hi. Hello. Salaam. Bonjour. Salut. Ciao. Ahoj. Bog. Marhaba. Ola.Β πŸ˜€

Forewarning: this is a super short post. Enjoy! 🌻

Much Love,Β 

Troubled Illusioner. ❀

It was a test.

And Dayyanah knew it.

Two things proved it to her.

First, the pistol.

The man had pulled out a pistol somewhere along in the conversation. Why produce another one? Why not toss her the same one?

She didn’t know what had happened to that one, because currently she couldn’t see it, but she was one hundred percent certain he had reached for the one which she had just fired.

And as she expected, an audible click was heard.

But nothing happened.

She was still alive. As they wanted her.

Which was the second thing that allowed her to so bravely place the barrel to her neck.

It was too early for them to kill her – or to make her kill herself.

They had barely questioned her, which meant they obviously hadn’t found out what they needed to.

Surely they didn’t go through the trouble of capturing her just to know what she wore the day before!

They still needed her alive.

And because she was so sure, she moved the pistol away, cocked it and placed it at her neck again.

She pulled the trigger for a second time, her eyes never leaving those of the man in front of her who watched her every move.

Then, as he had done, she tossed it in the air towards him.

It spun in an arch, twisting over and over until his hand caught it, stopping its movement.

There was a long moment of pin drop silence.

Three pairs of eyes stared in masked amazement, unblinking.

“My perfume is Iceland, by Playboy,” said Dayyanah, fighting back a smirk.

One Hundred and Ninety Five

“Tough nut,” grunts Fang, dropping the body of the girl carelessly onto the floor.

Scar, Beast and Ali move forward.

“Boss is not going to be pleased,” mutters Scar, referring to the girl’s red swollen cheek.

“She’s a tiger, this one. I had to,” says Fang, wiping his forehead. “Thought I had her and then she was on her feet again.”

Usually they didn’t discuss the capture. There were rules – one of which was you don’t physically attack the subject – but besides the rules, they left it to Fang. As long as he got who they wanted. It was his game to play and he always experimented.

“How long you think she’ll take?” asks Ali, studying her face intently.

Something in him was disturbed.

He didn’t dare say it aloud, but he wasn’t all too thrilled about this.

The reason just wasn’t clicking though.

“She looks like a junkie,” says Beast, the newest recruit. “So probably soon.”

Beast was right. She did look like a teen who spent whatever money she got hold of on drugs.

But that was one thing she didn’t do. There were only a few of those – things she didn’t do, that is – and one of them was drugs.

Perhaps it was seeing the effect intoxication had on her father, or perhaps she just wasn’t interested, but Dayyanah had never intentionally gone down that road.

“Now we wait,” says Fang, pulling out his phone.

“Now you wait,” mutters Ali. “Some of us have work to do.”

Ali had to finish off yesterday’s disaster. But first, he had to stop at Base 3 to have a word with Venom.


“You’re not gone yet?” asks Venom, looking up as Ali walks through the door.

“I’m going now,” replies Ali. “I came to tell you to make sure I’m there before you do anything with that girl.”

Venom raises an eyebrow.

“And none of you are to lay a finger on her,” adds Ali.

He holsters his pistol and adjusts his cap.

Then, without a second glance, he walks out, leaving Venom staring at his retreating back.


Venom removes the hard drive he had been working with and replaces it with a much smaller USB.

His fingers work rapidly and in a couple of seconds he has Ali’s profile open in front of him.

He narrows down his search using descriptions of the girl that Scar had given him yesterday.

After almost 15 minutes of thorough searching, Venom still hasn’t found what he wants.

He tries another angle, digs into the life of the girl.

Her name is Dayyanah.

But no Malawian guy named Ali was ever the hero in her life, which Venom decides he will go through thoroughly next.

He moves on, for now.

Few taps of a couple keys and he scores.

Dayyanah has a twin – Deeyanah.

Deeyanah’s best friend is Amaani.

And Ali’s life revolves around Amaani.

Venom sits for 3 more minutes before he pushes his chair back, satisfied.

Dayyanah’s history would have to wait. He needed the toilet.


Ali enters Base 3 dressed in a school uniform, a backpack slung over his shoulder.

Beast looks up.

“This one almost suits you,” he guffaws, taking in Ali’s attire.

Ali shrugs.

It was the easiest way to make his way around the school to get the teacher, who was actually an undercover FBI agent by night.

“Sting made it difficult,” says Ali.

His failed attempt the previous day had made the man extra cautious.

But Ali got what he needed to.

As for the man, he would die in exactly 13 minutes, as he commanded his geography class to open to page 87 of their textbooks while he did the same.

They were studying World War II. Ali thought that the marble sized bomb, which would explode in the teacher’s face without harming the kids, would be a pretty cool “live demo” of the lesson.

It would be Hiroshima. But in a classroom. And only one man would die.

Ali carefully removes the backpack from his shoulder and places it on the table Beast and Scar are working at.

“Where’s boss?” he asks, opening a can of coke and downing it.

“Just left,” says Scar, glancing up.

“Where to?” asks Ali, squashing the can he’d just emptied and throwing it into the bin.

The bin was custom made and they had one at each base.

It would remove all traces of their fingerprints and the DNA in their saliva. Then it would squash the refuse to smithereens.

“Do some investigating about that girl,” answers Scar.

Now that Ali was done with his work for the day, he decided to do the same.

Booting up his laptop, he lights a cigarette and gets cracking.

Or rather – hacking.

He knew that girl from somewhere.

All he had to figure out was where.

As narrated by Dayy:

My eyes open only for it to seem like they’re still closed.

Oh god.

Fear flashes through me and I shut my eyes again.

Where the hell am I?

A revolting smell hits my noise, making my stomach churn.

My heart hammers in my chest and slowly, very slowly, I open my eyes again.

There is a light.

But it’s so dull it may as well have just not been there.

I focus on it. The small bulb hanging from the ceiling giving off a pale yellow colour.

Suddenly, my stomach somersaults again.

And then it empties its contents.

I need water.

Scanning the room, I realize that it’s completely empty.

It’s just four walls.

And a door.

I stand up and wipe my mouth with the back of my sleeve.

Then, trying not to think about how disgusting what I just did was, I make my way to the door.

My body feels strangely weak.

I sit down again, realizing I won’t make it to the door.

Dropping my head between my knees I breathe deeply.

My body begins drifting off again, when suddenly the door opens.

It takes all my strength to lift my head.

Three men walk in.


Some time had passed since the three man standing in front of me had entered.

I had been given water, on asking, some of which I drank and the rest I splashed onto my face.

I felt much better, more alert.

Good thing too, because these guys looked like trouble.

“Where were you yesterday afternoon?”

It’s the first time the man with the green eyes and scarred face speaks.

He reminds me of a snake. And Deeyanah was always the one afraid of reptiles, not me. I didn’t like them, but they didn’t scare me.

“Aren’t you’ll going to sit?” I ask, looking up at them from where I sat on the hard floor.

No one moves.

So I stand.

“Depends what time you have in mind,” I reply eventually, looking at the scarred face man.

“17:14,” he says.

“I was walking home from work.”

“What were you wearing?”

“The same jeans and same shoes which I have on now, but with a white T-shirt and black leather jacket,” I reply.

“Oh, and same cap,” I add a moment later, adjusting it on my head. “Do you want my perfume brand as well?”

Something whistles past my ear.

“I don’t like sassy people,” growls the man.

“What?” I shrug nonchalantly. “I don’t know who you are and what you want. You could be some random gangster who thinks everyone is scared of you. I’m not, by the way. Or you could be the mafia. Or FBI agents, in which case, you’d know what perfume I was wearing without me having to tell you.”

“So, which are you?” I ask when no one says anything.

This girl was smart.

She also wasn’t afraid. Or rather, she covered up her fear ridiculously well.

It piqued Venom’s curiosity like nothing had before.

“Who are you?” he asks her.

“Don’t waste my time. Ask me something you don’t know,” she replies.

“I have no questions in that case,” lies Venom.

“You do,” says Dayyanah.

She stands up straight, moves away from the wall.

“You want to know why I’m not scared,” she says.

Then, she answers the question.

“I only fear intoxicated men.”

Venom pulls out his pistol.

“I’m not scared of you killing me,” she continues, not pausing for a split second. “Because I have nothing to live for.”

The firearm pointed at her doesn’t seem to bother her in the least.

“If you want to fight, I can probably put you down. Okay, maybe not, but I’m a brown belt in karate and I’ve done martial arts for three years.”

“I have no clue who the hell you guys are, but just tell me what you want. If I’m able to, I’ll give it to you, otherwise you can go ahead and kill me. Like I said, it won’t make much difference.”

Venom couldn’t wrap his head around this girl.

She was too good.

But he’d encountered a few girls like her along the years.

It’s easy to talk.

Words are a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

None of the previous girls like this one had succeeded in action.

“Prove it,” says Venom. “If your life really doesn’t matter, then end it.”

Dayyanah watches as he reaches behind him and pulls out a pistol.

Her eyes follow the movement as it comes sailing towards her in the air.

Smoothly, her hand reaches up, catching the weapon deftly.

Her actions hold no trace of hesitation, no trepidation.

She moves the weapon to her waist, cocking it.

Then, she lifts it to the side of her neck, and pulls the trigger.

Collage 2018-06-22 20_19_01.jpg

One Hundred and Ninety Four

Ali was made for the job.

They all knew it.

He learnt exceptionally fast.

And he didn’t just learn.

He excelled. In everything.

Every task he had been sent out for went successfully.

Things The Scorpions previously had struggled accomplishing, was accomplished through Ali.

But what really proved it to Venom, that Ali was a valuable asset not to be lost, was the assassin in him.

Scar had taken weeks before he pulled the trigger of a gun pointed at a human, and then too, he had missed.

As for the blade, that had taken months.

Nonetheless, he’d come a long way. Now, he no longer even flinched.

Scar could fire a gun and push a blade simultaneously, while looking the victim in the eye, knowing that the man had two kids and a wife at home – after months of training and practice.

As for Fang, he did the child’s work. The easy work, that wouldn’t spoil everything else if he slipped up.

Usually he didn’t. But Venom wouldn’t take a chance.

Like Scar, he too had taken a good few weeks to master what was required of him.

But Ali.

Ali could do what took Scar months to achieve, from day one.

He loved doing it – wiping the blade against the dead man’s clothes after pulling it out from his heart, watching the first splash of blood spray out from the round bullet hole, hearing the victim beg for mercy, plead for his life.

It thrilled him, made him feel powerful.

And if Venom didn’t watch out, Ali would easily be able to take his place as “boss”, with just a single pull of a trigger.

That’s who he was.

Ali the assassin.


Having recently recruited 2 more men, The Scorpions were now a solid 6 men gang.

Nobody could catch them.

Nobody could touch them.

Nobody could even see them.

The good guys could look them in the eye, have a full conversation with them, and still not know that they were one of the bad guys.

They were thriving.

But today, after a long time, the unstoppable gang was having a disaster.

“It was going according to plan,” says Sting, the second newest recruit, whose task it was. “The girl messed it up.”

Venom watches him like a hawk, waiting for him to explain further.

“I had the subject cornered in the middle of the street. I was reaching for his briefcase and I would have got it. And then this clumsy chic tripped and fell onto my arm.”

Venom’s gaze moves to Scar.

He doesn’t need to ask. Scar knows what he wants.

“Collarbone length hair, blue eyes, arched eyebrows, small teeth, thin lips, make-up. Three piercings on the right ear, two on the left, two beside the right eyebrow. Hair was dyed, covered with a cap.”

Scar goes on, describing the girl to the finest detail.

He finishes with, “She was trying to stay low-key. She didn’t want any attention on her.”

Venom focuses his gaze back on Sting.

“Yes! Yes! Same one,” he says, nodding furiously.

He’s scared.

They can all see his fear, despite him trying to hide it.

He’d messed up. And it would cost them.

The subject was not just stinking rich, he was ridiculously smart, too.

He was someone who needed to be sorted out same time.

But he’d got away.

With his briefcase – which contained what The Scorpions wanted.

Sting had volunteered for this task. Which made his failure worse.

Venom was in a particularly bad mood today. Which made Sting’s failure even more worse.

“I know where he’s going to be tomorrow,” says Sting, speaking hurriedly.

Drops of sweat are now visible on his face.

“He won’t get away tomorrow. I’ll get him, I swear. I won’t mess up again.”

“That’s right,” says Venom. “You won’t.”

And in a flash, Venom’s pistol is up and Sting is down, blood pouring from the bullet hole in the dead center of his forehead.

Venom stands up, holsters his weapon.

Nobody moves.

“Get rid of him,” he says, kicking Sting’s shin as he walks past his bleeding body to the door.

He pauses at the door, looks over his shoulder directly at Ali and says…

“And get me that girl.”

Hey. Hi. Hello. Salaam. Bonjour. Salut. Ciao. Ahoj. Bog. Marhaba. Ola. πŸ˜€

Three posts in three days?! I am clearly on holiday!Β πŸ’ƒπŸ»πŸ˜†

The bad guys are back! A little twist before we get to #Zeeyanah’s very much anticipated wedding!

I need suggestions here, please. Ali needs a code name. Something similar in nature to the others’ but which starts with the alphabet A, because Ali the assassin has a nice ring to it, but I don’t want him to keep a Muslim name.

So let me know what you’ll think, please!

Much Love,Β 

Troubled Illusioner. ❀️