Only Fools Cross Paths with an Apostle

An hour had gone by. By now the authorities arrived at the scene of the crime. The corpse belonging to the criminals were nearby, near enough to spot. The Canadian couple survived, yet, terribly injured. We sat in the living room going through the documents. The content was inapplicable to the naked mind. Had the couple known about the contents contained in the document? Were they couriers, or, were they used as one? Unaware of bearing such invaluable documents.

Then, right there, it hit me. What was the need for the Maroons to have such information? Simultaneously we both drew our Weapons. Lindiwe stood on the opposite side with a nine millimetre on her left hand while a dagger on her right. On my end was a smoking carbon arrow generated by the Gaddafi.     

"Don't you just hate a standoff…", scorned Lindiwe, "standoff, you? I hardly think so. You would need twenty or more Maroon with their guns pointed at me to call it a standoff. Now I helped you finish mission impossible, why does your faction require the documents on the table?", I asked considering it was utterly absurd to point a lethal arrow towards my childhood best friend. I was about to lower my bow though, for just a glimpse, I thought I saw loathing expressed on Lindiwe's face.

"That is classified. Jk you won't hurt me, we share a lot together…", "childhood memories", I considered. "Though it is not the child who was my best friend that stands before me, with a gun pointed at me", I argued.

For a second, Lindiwe considered that it might not go well for her. Of course, she was trying to fight an Apostle, alone. Lindiwe lowed her gun and placed it back in its holster, surprisingly, she raised her hands in surrender. "Jk. Look, the content in that file… is essential, and it's better kept safe in the hands of the Maroons. We thought of giving it to the Apostles for safeguarding, it seems that your hands are tied. I mean, the Scroll of Zayi", "I recovered the Scroll of Zayi. It's safe", I interrupted.

"You know our origin, our principles", "the Hashashin are one of your allies, some Maroons are Hashashin", interrupted Jk. "yes, though they are no enemies of yours, are they? You work on your territory; they work on theirs. Innocents died in Paris due to you, that mattered to the Order of Assassins, but, in respect, they had not interfered. King Panzu-a-Nimi of the Kongo was an Assassin and an Apostle", argued Lindiwe.

The Order of Assassins, dating back from the origin has never raised conflict against the Apostles, I contemplated as to why would their affiliation be a problem. "true. Panzu-a-Nimi is a myth, he never ruled in Kongo nor any of her kingdoms", I argued.

"Jk, your country does business with the West and East, Capitalists and Communists. Does this mean that you are not worth trusting?", asked Lindiwe. Valid point, valid enough to lower the Gaddafi. "All we… The Maroon want is to make sure no one exploits the content concealed in the file. Neither can we destroy it for it is too valuable", reasoned Lindiwe.

"Fine", I said flatly. Suddenly, out of nowhere teargas was thrown in from the window. By default, we crouched behind the sofa. If the teargas was not insulting enough, they threw a grenade in my house! A grenade! In my house!? KA-BOOM!!! Proceeded an ear throbbing siren. Only then had I realized how valuable sound was in relation to time. For time itself reduced speed. My heart started beating thrice at the normal rate, here we go again. I took in everything that was happening. Fourteen footsteps outside materialized. Three of whoever were bombarding us were flanked on either side. 

I activated my armour suit by simply stroking the golden forearm bead on my right arm. In a matter of seconds, I was in full Apostle gear. "Since when does Apostle suit activate that fast, and from a forearm armour?", "a David Kufu courtesy, now be quiet", I whispered. "You met David Kufu. 'Thee' David Kufu?", "Yes. Now, I do not want us to dies simply because of 'Thee' David Kufu so please be quiet", I whispered harshly.

The grenade's effect blew my entire open space kitchen to wreckages. The file was still on the coffee table covered in splinters, cinders and dust from the explosion. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way", said an American woman. I could tell she was American due to her accent. "you blew my kitchen! What's easy about that!?", I retorted. "I could have blown your house", she bellowed, "never. Ever. Ever! Mess with a Black man's house! You done lost your mind, woman!", I exploded. "What do you want?", asked Lindiwe. "Oh, come on Maroon, you know very well that I am here for the Maggilot! Hand it over", she added the pressure by firing bullets into my ceiling. My ceiling!

Silence proceeded her fire; her footsteps reduced the silence after what felt like a long while. She took eight steps forward and three steps back, wiping whatever dirt that was on her hand with my beautiful Siberian crimson curtains. "What's this Maggilot she's on about?", I whispered, "the file on the table. The men we turned into corpses were mercenaries. These guys, the CIA were going to steal it from them", explained Lindiwe. I was puzzled that the CIA would come into my house, and start by blowing it up. 

"Let's talk to each other. Negotiate", said the American woman. "Lady, the time for negotiations reached its limit when you decided to blow my kitchen", that proceeded with Nimzy pinning an agent's left upper arm to the wall. He bellowed in tremendous pain. Lindiwe, unaware of what I was doing, I slowly removed both her semi-automatics. By the time I completed a dive roll with twists, only six feet remained standing. Landing with one knee to what was my beautiful stainless, spotless black marble floor, I released my Ark into spear mode, thrusting it into the agent's abdomen on my left, he winced then gurgled, dropping dead, his corpse defiled my exquisite marble floor. 

Nimzy returned to my right hand at will (for some reason, the tool can understand me, like, she developed some sort of AI system due to the collision with that blue essence in the UFO), I directly decapitated the agent behind me, his body spasmed while his head fell next to the American woman. I rose slowly, face to face with the American agent lady. There it was, the Apostle's cloak effect of inducing fear into the minds of others. Unable to see beyond the darkness, where my face should be. She flinched as she took a step back. 

"the next time you decide to blow someone's house. Make sure you know who you dealing with. You done lost your mind", angered by their kind gesture of blowing my house, I sent the spear Ark into the left agent's mouth, protruding into his brain. His corpse spasmed as gurgling blood trickled out of his mouth. The corpse was now pinned to the wall, yanking like a goat on protest whilst being dragged to be slaughtered.

Simultaneously, I sent Nimzy flying into the agent on my right. Splitting his head in half, his body contracted, collapsing to the floor. I noticed the American lady trying her best to keep her tears in, petrified to a stand. She must have seen many things as a CIA field agent, though, never such barbarism and lack of consideration of human life. I didn't care! It was barbaric to blow my house. No consideration to the fact that I was temporarily homeless. 

"Now, I see why you have a hard time sleeping", said Lindiwe in disgust at the sight of my exquisite yet homicidal masterpiece, "I have never seen an…", she looked at the agent, "move that fast", she managed. She came forward, the magnetic tech on her gloves pulled her semiautomatics from the floor. "The Maggilot remains with us. Remember this day as a reminder", she pointed her index finger at the CIA agent.

"Do not cross paths with the Maroon", she sneered at the American lady.

They exchanged looks, it was not the first time they had crossed paths, Lindiwe picked up the Maggilot from the coffee table and handed it to me after removing the dust from the cover.

Silence entered the room unceremoniously, I and Lindiwe stared at the American lady-like two male lions who cornered a sprained Cape buffalo, or, like two Catholic priests with a small boy in a room (wait... that's too graphic. Haha). "do it…", she scorned. The disdain in her expression was not enough to mask her feeble submission. "No. Live with it. This is the day when you crossed paths with an Apostle", she cringed at the word, Apostle. She must have heard legends of the Apostles, being a CIA agent, after all, she had no idea whose house she was raiding.