A FATHER'S STAND, A SON'S FURY

OLAMILEKAN

I motioned to Temi, instructing her to take cover somewhere within the house. She hesitated for a second before hiding behind a nearby wall. I took a deep breath and flung open the door a few seconds later. The three individuals standing in front of me radiated an eerie presence, their icy, unreadable faces sending a shiver down my spine.

"Good day, gentlemen and madam. How may I help you?" I attempted a cheerful note, glossing over the fear that was building inside.

The dark-haired woman in the center, thinner than the men on either side of her but exuding without doubt authority, stepped forward. Her black braids were slicked back from her face, and in her gloved hand she was clutching a thin handheld unit. "Are you Mr. Johnson Bamidele?" she said, her voice sharp and unyielding.

I took a step back. "No, ma'am. I am Olamilekan Bamidele. My father's name is Johnson Bamidele."

Her sharp eyes locked with mine. "So you are Olamilekan. You and your brother have been identified to be Awakened. According to the government decree, you must come with us for immediate evaluation and testing."

My stomach churned inside out. I took a tiny step back. "I don't think my father would—"

Before I could proceed, heavy footsteps echoed from the hallway behind me. My father and Joshua, their eyes still rubbing from the effects of my power, came out of their rooms.

"What's going on here?" my father's deep voice cut through the tension. His piercing eyes swept over the officials, taking in the situation at a glance. "Who are you people, and why are you standing at my doorstep?"

The woman barely looked at him twice before she started talking. "We represent the National Security Department for Awakened People. Your boys have demonstrated impressive capabilities, and under government procedure, they must be tested as soon as possible to determine how far they can take it." 

Joshua tensed beside me. "We don't need testing," he muttered aloud, but the woman didn't catch it.

My father stepped forward, his posture rigid. "If my sons are special, that's our business. You're not taking them anywhere."

One of the suited men reached into his jacket, pulling out a badge. "Mr. Bamidele, this isn't a request. It's a directive from the government. Failing to comply will be seen as an obstruction of official duty."

I swallowed hard. The air between us crackled with hostility.

The woman swiftly held the device in her hand and pointed it at me. The screen lit up as it scanned me, emitting a gentle hum. All seemed fine at first, but then—

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

The device let out an earsplitting alarm, the digits on the screen racing beyond their highest ratings. The woman's eyes widened in shock, her hand quivering slightly as she read the results.

"This. This is impossible," she gasped.

The men in the suits leaned over her shoulder, their otherwise expressionless faces contorting for the first time. "A reading this high shouldn't even exist," one of them snarled. "His magical power is off the charts—it's a disaster."

I didn't fully understand what they were discussing, but I knew this much: it wasn't good. As soon as that word was spoken—disaster—the room's mood shifted.

The woman rose, her face impassive again. "He is too dangerous to be left alone. We have to take countermeasures right away."

My father stepped in front of me. "You're not taking my son anywhere."

The two business-suited men stepped forward together. One reached to grab something from his waist—a containment device? A gun?

"Step aside, Mr. Bamidele," the woman ordered.

"Over my dead body," my father growled, his fists clenched.

It all occurred so rapidly. One of the men acted swiftly—too swiftly. In a flash, he slapped my father on the chest with an open hand, the force sending him crashing into the wall behind him.

A sickening cracking noise filled the air as my father collapsed to the floor, still.

"DAD!" Joshua and I both screamed in horror. We ran towards him, but he wasn't moving. His breathing was faint—too faint.

Temi, hiding behind the corner, let out a shout. The woman turned around to confront the suited attacker who had punched my father. "You hit him too hard. We needed him to comply, not be comatose."

I barely heard them. My hands trembled as I touched my father's unconscious body. My blood boiled, and an unfamiliar sensation clawed at the edge of my control.

The energy inside me was sparking. I could feel my body afire.

The agents took a step back, their own bravado usurped by fear. "He's reacting… his energy levels are spiking!" one shrieked out.

The woman seized another gadget, a cuff of containment. "Restrain him before it's too late!" she com

manded.

But it was already too late.

Something in me snapped.