The setting was a bit classy.

The room was rugged red. On the left was a couch, empty and expectant. 

A TV was fixed to the wall opposite. It was a news broadcast but the volume was turned to the lowest. 

Luta stopped moving. A door cracked open on the left of the room at the far end. 

Two other doors were still closed. As Luta watched with seriousness, he smiled, seeing the old man pop out. 

He waved to Luta and soon they were together. 

Luta opted for a bow, but the old man held him by his arms. 

"We should talk before you see him." 

Luta nodded in agreement. 

"Where?" He asked. 

"Anywhere you want. I just want you to get some things right."

"However it is, we have to be fast. It's almost five. The prison would yawn at my absence soon."

The old man grinned. He stepped away from his doorway and motioned Luta in. 

"What makes you think things wouldn't have been well planned?" 

"I forgot you all are professionals," Luta said. 

The old man watched him closely as he moved around the room, forking his fingers through the leaves of the books on the shelf.

"I forget your name everyday."

"Call me old man," the old man snapped. He waited for that look from Luta and got it in no time. 

"Well," Luta adjusted his sleeves. 

"I have taken more than sub all my life," Luta added. 

His mood was beginning to change and the old man was careful of what next to say. 

He moved over to the mini bar fixed to a side of the office. He poured himself a drink and poured another drink into the empty cup close to him. He raised it up. 

"You mind we have a drink?" 

"I stopped drinking a lot time ago. It might be shitty, you know?" 

"I know," the old man said. He gulped noisily and sat back the cup on the table noisily. 

Luta whirled around. He felt uncomfortable and then turned his chair around. 

The leather chair was soft and comfortable. Soon, he reclined on it, his fist clenched as his emotions swung like a pendulum ball. 

A lot was going deep down in his mind and it was like he was going to kill the guy who looked like him. 

He must have hunted and hurt the very people he loved. Not definitely, but in a way or two, he knew the guy in the hoodie was dangerous. 

This same dangerous man saved him. When he got into a ditch, he saved him again. 

He wanted to know why.

A satisfying reply to his question might push forward the determination to end his life, if he could. 

He was going to try anyway. 

He wanted a moment with this man who looked like his perfect shadow. He wanted all his questions answered and  to get out of the mystery he was in. 

"Luta..." The pitch in the old man's voice made it feel like he had been calling for ever. 

Luta eyes brightened up. His white set of teeth flashed and he shielded it almost immediately. 

"You should see my boss now," the old man gave up on the conversation as he ended it. 

He stood to his feet, let down his hands into his pocket and waited patiently for Luta to slowly get up to his feet. 

The old man paced the room, and picked the keys to the door. When they got out, he opened the lock. 

They walked the lengthy hallway and soon, they were out on the pavement in the balcony, high up. 

A mast was at one end, reaching out to the sky. 

The guy with the hoodie on was on the other side of the balcony. His hands were on the rails. His look was casted faraway, and his attention gone as presumed. Most parts of his body were covered and it was hard to tell who he really was. 

This was the first time Luta was chanced to have him studied after so long.  

The guy with the hoodie looked slightly different from who Luta had known.

"Don't hit him," the old man whispered as he tapped Luta.

"Move forward. He is you." Luta paused, whirled around. The old man was opting out. He smiled, left a thumb up sign and was gone. 

Luta sighed. An attempt to look up, he was face to face with his shadow.

The guy in the hoodie with a bright smile held onto Luta. His brown eyes, pink lips, his dark curly hair popped out his hood. 

No one was going to talk, not even Luta, whose temper was curled up, chained to his emotion and pushed off the cliff. It wouldn't be him showing temper, it wouldn't be him yelling. He already had too much of the wound and now, he was dead to the feeling. 

"I am sorry about everything. I'm Delta," the guy in the hoodie said. 

He pushed back his hoodie and whirled around his hands back on the rails. 

Luta joined him and they both were staring far away. 

The connection wounded past perfection. What they shared; deep and historical. This was deeper than what anyone could explain.

"I know you have a lot of questions for me. Yeah, I feel it. I knew you as a kid. The smart one. I know you are still the same. Deep within, I know you have a thousand reasons why you want to drive a knife through my side."

"I have more reasons why I would like to bust a can of cold drink with a knife," Luta replied. His weak smile came up. "Did you kill Ayo?" Luta switched up the conversation. His smile grew rigid. 

"What if I told you I didn't. I tried to. I could have," Delta said in regret. "Yeah, it was a military project sponsored by politicians. I was part of the project. I was tasked to end it and everyone who knew about it," Delta added. 

"Why didn't you kill me?"

"You are my brother."

"No, I'm not." Luta took a heavy breath, his temper rising. He rolled his tongue against his lips in a flash and held back onto the rails again. 

"Mariam was killed. Ayo, Precious, every damn person linked to this was killed. It was operational. I was on this. I was commanded to..."

"But you spared me. Why did you not spare the rest?" 

"I could have," Delta yelled back. 

"Our mother was on the line." 

"What do you mean our mother," Luta blurted. 


Luta stopped going through the turns of pictures on the table and looked away, his nose flaring, and air trapped under his tongue. 

He still wouldn't agree that this man standing in his front was his twin. 

No. Not this killer he had waited all his life to kill. 

The picture on the desk held the memories they shared as kids- their mother, father. 

Now it was beginning to make more sense; the resemblance and all. 

"Then our father got killed in a coup. He was the head of the military operation for the South West, strong and intelligent. 

Same accident made you lose your memories and it made mum lose our little sister. 

I was taken away after months, and before then, you were subjected to tons of operation, all in trying to get your brain fixed. 

And it took you time before you could retain anything. 

"You must have wondered why you felt you had no childhood." Delta stopped talking. He narrowed a gaze at Luta and picked up his talk again. 

"It didn't end there. You were the weak but intelligent type. Your brain cells got enhanced. The operations saved you and it made you learn faster. 

The first doctor gave me a hint and warned me never to tell anyone about it. 

He knew you would be taken too if the Military knew about your special ability, just the way I was taken. He was a friend to father and he loved us."

"Is that why some people don't want me dead?"

"Around April, two years ago, your data was leaked. All your medical reports and files were accessed in an attempt to track you down and get you killed for knowing about the military operation that was never meant to be disclosed. 

That made power go against power. A section wanted you dead and a section wanted you safe, so your ability would not waste. 

Afolabi wanted you safe above all. 

He wasn't strong enough to effect his stand. 

Mother was taken captive and I was asked to go after everyone who knew about the exposure of those classified information. I was asked to take you out too," Delta said. 

He took a deep breath knowing he was talking too much, and smiled. 

"It's almost time," he said again. 

Luta looked left, his eyes on the wall clock pegged to the wall. 

"Better get going. I am working on getting you out of that prison before the month ends," Delta said again. He pulled on his hood and moved across the room.