My name’s Ben, and I used to be a tough bloke, but now, I feel there’s a void, a deep pit in my heart that can never be filled, and every day I ask God for forgiveness for my sins.
If I could turn back the clock, I’d have gone into the right business, and I would’ve been more cautious around mates who displayed warning signs, like Shark.
My tale kicked off like this:
I used to be a well-off businessman dealing in car spare parts, but it was all a front for my dodgy drug-pushing business.
I had my crew, the Groove Clan, set on the outskirts of Benin where we specialized in drug distribution, steering clear of killings, slavery, or kidnapping.
However, one day, my unlawful activities caught the attention of the authorities, posing a serious threat to my crew and causing about 75% of my lads to scarper, leaving my business in tatters.
Desperate to avoid capture, I realized I had to do the unthinkable – seek help from other illicit crews.
Through a recommendation, I came across Shark, a well-known leader from the Vegas Clan, who had connections with the bobbies.
To grease the palms of the authorities, I knew I had to shell out a hefty sum of dosh and diamonds to Shark for assistance. Upon reaching Shark’s crew, I underwent a thorough screening by his lads before being escorted to the Dark Room, where visitors were received.
There, I met Shark, who was already clued in about my predicament and my reason for seeking him out. His face was masked, sitting on a throne, and enveloped in marijuana smoke.
Summoning my courage, I addressed him, “Legendary Shark,” I called his name, and he nodded.
“I need your help to bribe the coppers. I’ll pay whatever it takes,” I said eagerly.
He chuckled, his laughter dry and chilling, and said, “You can’t buy off legendary sharks like me. I’ve got enough money and diamonds,” I confided.
“Never mind, I’ve already had a word with the coppers. Consider yourself free as a bird,” I was gobsmacked to hear this. He interrupted my thoughts, saying, “Learn this lesson: it’s not all about money in the drug game. You need to know the right people in every crew, police department, and city,” he concluded.
His words lingered in my mind as I walked away, realising that my path to success involved more than just wealth. It was about building connections, understanding the intricate web of relationships, and becoming a player in this perilous game. As I prepared to leave, Shark took me by surprise with an offer when he said, “There’s a looming threat to your vulnerable crew, and it’s not safe. So, gather your crew members and bring them to the Vegas Clan for safety.”
I had a serious expression, but he continued, “I mean no harm. Your lads’ identities will remain intact, and I will continue to lead my loyal crew while you lead yours.” Suspense gripped me as I contemplated the uncertain fate that awaited me in this new alliance.
Grateful for his kindness, I accepted the offer, oblivious to the mischief lurking behind his eyes.
A few weeks later, under Shark’s influence, my fortunes improved.
However, things took a dark turn when I succumbed to violence like killing and other crimes to enhance my reputation compared to my initial way of drug pushing.
Shark introduced me to the infamous Red Massacre Day – a day when he ruthlessly eliminates someone he sees as a threat to his business.
Shark isn’t one for competition, and he also fears that his secrets might be spilled in the drug game.
This is the most notable event in the crew. During these events, members of the Vegas Clan don red attire with a shark badge. Meanwhile, my lads don our traditional green attire with a shark badge, and the victim would be enticed to a hidden location where the gruesome massacre would take place.
My involvement in this sinister act boosted my status, sending a shiver of excitement down my spine.
The dark path I’d chosen was proving its worth, fuelling my thirst for power. However, over time, Shark began distancing himself from me.
He started going on missions without involving me, and I noticed he grew fond of my lads, showing sympathy towards them. Before long, my lads became distant and peculiar in their behaviour.
My breaking point arrived when another Red Massacre Day was announced, and I was excluded from the plans.
On that very day, all the other members of the gang disappeared, heading towards the undisclosed location of the massacre. I had no idea where they were going.
Shark, the leader of the Red Day, always made sure he left last. So, I managed to catch him just before he departed and confronted him with a mix of anxiety and frustration.
“Shark, what’s going on? Why are you treating me like this? What have I done to be left out of the crew’s activities?” I asked, desperate for answers.
He burst into laughter, a sinister sound that sent shivers down my spine. With a sly grin, he replied, “It’s time,” a crew slogan indicating the impending death of a victim. Without wasting a moment, he hopped into his sleek Mercedes and sped away.
Determined to discover the location, I swiftly got into another vehicle and discreetly trailed him. It led me to an abandoned warehouse in the eastern part of Benin.
Stepping out of the vehicle, I approached Shark with determination, unsurprised by my presence – after all, he’s a gangster who knows if he’s being followed or not. The tension hung in the air as I mustered the courage to confront him.
“This is it,” I said, my voice trembling slightly. “You keep excluding me from the crew’s activities.” He laughed heartily and spoke those chilling words, “It’s time,” that same crew said. Then suddenly, I turned around, searching for the victim to be killed, but there was no one. Shark caught my attention, “Do you think I’d grease the palms of the police over your head for free?” he taunted, a wicked gleam in his eyes.
“Feed and house you and your lads? Oh no, my bad, my crew,” he sneered.
My heart pounded in my chest as I realised something alarming – my lads weren’t dressed in their usual attire; they were clad in the notorious red Vegas clothing. Betrayal washed over me, and it dawned on me that I was the intended victim of the impending Red Massacre Day.
All those odd behaviours now made sense, like pieces of a sinister puzzle falling into place.
Shark’s sinister grin sent shivers down my spine. “We’ve collaborated enough, and you’re a threat,” he declared coldly, his voice devoid of any remorse. “IT’S YOUR TIME TO GO.”
Fear gripped me as I stood there, helpless and trapped. Then, without warning, three shots rang out, tearing into my chest.
Darkness enveloped me as I fell, losing consciousness. I can’t say for certain how long I remained out, but when I finally came to, I found myself in a hospital room.
Miraculously, I had survived the treacherous attack orchestrated by Shark.
Say no to drug trafficking and dodgy company, and remember to lead a lowly life.
Story By The Author: The Journey
