In a dimly lit local bar called Oga Oyeah's Bar, Obianika sat alone, surrounded by the soothing sounds of soft chatter and the gentle clinking of glasses. He placed his order, and instantly, his Odogwu bitters was served; its dark liquid glistened in the soft light. Oga Oyeah's Bar was a comfortable spot to unwind, filled with stories waiting to be shared. This humble nook was bursting with vibrant tales of locals who argued about the government and the past Nigerian-Biafran Civil War. The room was alive with rustic charm, its colors painting a warm atmosphere. Memories adorned the walls, serving as a visual balm. Soft lights cast abstract shadows on the worn floors as laughter and the clinking of glasses echoed through the doors. And yet, despite its welcoming atmosphere, Oga Oyeah's Bar was not a place for reckless abandon. In this haven, local hot drinks like Kai Kai and roots were noticeably absent from the menu, and the owner's zero-tolerance policy towards Indian hemp was strictly enforced, ensuring that the bar remained a safe and respectful space for all customers. In all of Enyimba City, Oga Oyeah's Bar stood tall, renowned for its excellence. Its fame echoed far and wide, drawing crowds from far and near. For within its hallowed walls, one could find the original bottle of Odogwu bitters gracing the shelf—a coveted elixir of authenticity, whereas others peddled imitations. Within this haven, chaos found no place to roam; instead, peace permeated the air, making it a cherished home. As Obianika sought comfort amidst life's unease, his hand firmly cradled his beloved Odogwu bitters. As he adjusted himself in the worn wooden chair where he sat, a flood of memories swept over him like a crashing wave. With each sip, he descended deeper into the recesses of his mind, reliving the events that had led him to this juncture in his troubled life. "In one day, I lost everything," he whispered, his voice a mere whisper barely audible above the din of laughter and chatter that swirled around him. As he spoke, time seemed to warp and bend, the present dissolving like sand between his fingers as he was catapulted six years back to the day that had left a permanent scar on his soul. It played before him now, a vivid and heart-wrenching movie, unfolding within the confines of his troubled mind. Meanwhile, in the bustling bar, people mingled and revelled in their own simple joys, oblivious to his inner turmoil. They could not fathom the battle raging within him, nor the immense weight that threatened to crush his very existence. As the bar's warm glow and carefree customers faded into the background, he sat transfixed, his mind haunted by the ghosts of his past. With a deep frown and clenched fists, he relived the moment that had forever changed his life. In his thoughts, he found himself back in his office, enveloped in a chill stillness, leaning back with his fingers wrapped tightly around a chilled bottle of Hero Lager Beer. The room was filled with the soothing sounds of Legend FM, his beloved radio station, whose melodious tunes floated gently through the airwaves. The timeless melody of ZblaQ's classic hit, "Where Solution Hide?," filled the air, creating a peaceful atmosphere that wrapped around his solitude.
But just as he was surrendering to the intoxicating effects of his Hero Lager beer and the soothing melodies on the radio, the intrusive ring of his phone slashed through the air with piercing clarity, rudely interrupting his moment of solitude. It was Mbanefo, his best friend and partner, whose voice was heavy with urgency, weighed down by the gravity of the news he bore. Mbanefo's words spilled out in a frantic torrent, each one a dire warning that threatened to unleash a catastrophic chain of events. "Obianika, there's fire on the mountain!" he exclaimed, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and desperation, like a leaf quivering in a gust of wind. "I just got word from our insider that they've arrested Ndukwe, and the police are closing in on our boys, one by one. You must hurry and check on your family!" As the words left Mbanefo's mouth, the room seemed to darken, as if the very lights themselves were being extinguished by the weight of Mbanefo's words. The call ended abruptly, and panic gripped Obianika tightly, with a numbing grip that crushed his heart. His pulse pounded like a wild drum beneath his chest, on the brink of consuming him whole, as the weight of Mbanefo's words crushed him. Obianika's breath came in short gasps; his mind was racing with the implications of Mbanefo's warning. He felt like he was drowning in a sea of fear, with no lifeline in sight.