The Cartel.

The Cartel.

He did not hear the forced recalibration of a Colt 1911 semi auto pistol’s bullet eject it’s host.
Only the impact of being momentarily jerked up and off his feet by it’s explosive momentum which suspended him mid air, then brought him crashing down hard.
Too shocked, to feel a jarring in his bones or the searing heat in his chest which had been pierced at close range by the bullet that was now lodged deep in his pleural cavity.
However, shock was soon replaced by numbing pain, then panic as it dawned on him that the bullet was obstructing his airway.
Anxietude set in, complicated by stridor triggered forced retching.
His pulse and respiratory rates also began to slowdown as visions and entire scenes of his turbulent life flashed before his minds eye in nano seconds.
Jolted back to reality and the fact that the supposed quick drop off of his deadly merchandise at shitta street, Surulere and on to another rendezvous before this last drop, in the Red light district of Wahabi Street, Agege, Lagos was all a setup.
Still spasming in the dirty puddle behind Moonlight casino, crimson essence gushing out of him in spurts, half squinting at the approaching silhouette with a strangely familiar lopsided gait.
It suddenly dawned on him that his assailant was no other than the irascible scoundrel, who used to be his mainland distro till against the rules of drug dealing the ungrateful punk had dabbled into and experimented with the crystal product and in no time had been hooked up so bad that he had to be cut off from the cartel, eventually ending up an associate of a rival gang Lord and former distro.
Side by side the new affiliates now stood, looking down contemptuously at their common enemy, as he lay helpless in a pool of his own blood.
“You shouldn’t have sacked me” hissed the former underling.
The one who’d been shot tried to speak but could only make a sickening gurgle as his former minion pointed the gun at him and squeezed the trigger.
Daniel Ibanga©

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