The lights didn't fail to make Ayo slightly lightheaded, even though he hadn't drank a sip of booze since the party started.
He didn't join the group of gyrating young men and women, even as rampaging hormones ran loose in the crowd. He was on his phone, but still observing.
Femi was already deep in it.
Dancing with a girl in a black one-piece dress. Nothing wild, just hands on waist, whispered nonsense, and short laughs. He was different, still playful, but much more charismatic.
Ayo stood by the wall, near a window. His cup still full.
He watched the girl before him — short box braids, sultry gaze, nose ring — swipe past with her friend and giggle after something he couldn't hear. Then she bumped into his shoulder, ever so slightly.
"Sorry," the girl said. She looked up.
Average height. Braided wig. Curvy. Peach crop top. Waist beads flashing as she turned. Ayo gave a light nod, looking down at her cause of his relative height with a slight smile.
She smiled back.
Femi would've called that progress.
Ayo didn't move.
"Your name?" she asked, tone playful.
"Ayo."
"First year?"
"Yeah."
She leaned in slightly, but not too much. "Nice voice. You don't talk much?"
"I do. Just not now."
She laughed, and for a second it felt like the room paused — or maybe Ayo just stopped caring about the crappy music.
Then it happened.
The door slammed open so hard it rattled the speakers.
Someone had entered like he owned the place, with a broad chest, fake dreadlocks, and Timberland boots. He wore all red, chain on his neck, and a black scarf peeking from his left pocket.
Two guys followed behind — one had a sling bag with a metal bulge that was definitely not vibes.
Femi's voice reached Ayo's ear, who was unsure when he had come closer. "Cult guys don show." (Cult guys have arrived)
Ayo didn't react. Just observed.
People didn't run, but the energy shifted. Movements got tighter, quieter. Some girls pulled their phones, others pulled their friends.
The guy in front — the one with the scarf — was looking around like he had beef with the walls.
Then he saw him.
Femi, wearing black on black, part of the onlookers.
Scarf guy paused. His brows scrunched together. He took a step forward. Then another.
"Who be this clown?" he muttered.
He walked straight up to Femi and shoved him hard on the chest.
The music kept playing, but the mood cracked.
"You dey mad?" the guy spat. "You wear black-on-black come here? Who send you?"
Femi stumbled back, blinking. "What?"
"Who you rep?"(Slang for 'What's your affiliation?')
"I no rep anybody, guy. Na cloth I just wear—"
"Shut up! So you just wear black anyhow? Is this a costume party? You dey craze?"
The tension in the room peaked. Everyone was watching now. The girl beside Femi slipped away fast, her expression frozen somewhere between awkward and afraid. The music had stopped at some point, amplifying the tense atmosphere.
Femi raised his hands, trying to explain. "Bro I swear, I didn't know—"
"Which bro?!" scarf guy roared. "No dey bro me! You dey wear black-on-black for where I dey, you think say na joke? You kon dey follow me talk English?"
(Don't call me bro! You're wearing black-on-black near me, you think it's a joke? You're now speaking English with me!?)
His voice cracked slightly, but that only made him angrier.
He turned to his boys. "You see this fool? Small boy dey form hard man. Continue dey provoke me."
Ayo stepped forward now, not aggressively — just to be visible beside Femi.
Wrong move. Very wrong move.
Scarf guy's eyes zeroed in, his ego bubbling.
"What?!" he barked. "Una wan join beat me?!"
(You want to gang up on me?)
Ayo said nothing. The guy took a step toward him.
"I no like your face. I no like am at all."
(I don't like your face)
A girl nearby whispered, "Let them not fight here oh."
"Na cloth I wear come party," Femi said again, voice tight now, more serious than Ayo had ever seen him. "What is all this?"
"You dey ask me wetin be all this?" scarf guy said, voice shaking now from rage and ego. "I go scatter your teeth."
Someone in the crowd shouted, "Abeg you guys should chill!"
Another voice: "Wetin dey sup like this?!"(What is happening now?)
The scarf guy hissed and turned to his boys. "Drop these fools."
They moved — fast, and clearly experienced.
One of them punched Femi in the stomach. He folded, gasping.
Another reached for something in the sling bag — metal flashed.
Ayo grabbed a nearby stool. "Get back!"
He swung.
And missed.
Rare, very rare.
Everything exploded. People screamed. The music stopped. The girl in peach ducked. Impressive how she was still there.
Cups crashed to the floor. One of the cult boys pushed Ayo, hard. He hit the ground. His back slamming against the speaker.
"Dem don start fight!"(They've started fighting oh)
"Blood dey flow oh!"
Ayo tried to get up — one of the boys stepped toward him with something sharp in his hand. Not a knife, not a machete — some kind of jagged scrap.
His face was twisted in a grin that didn't reach his eyes.
Then...
Ayo felt it.
Not just the hair-raising sensation of imminent injury or death.
But something else.
Something around him.
Time slowed.
He couldn't explain how. He just knew something was about to happen.
Everything in the room tilted, and it was like Ayo's breath froze mid-air.
And in that second, as the blade came down, something… activated.