Chapter 04

Chapter 04

Blood And Blueprints

Baba did not move for a long time.

He sat on the floor, back against the wall, staring at nothing. The room felt too small now, like a cage built for a man who had suddenly grown wings.

I killed your parents.

The words replayed endlessly, each time finding a new place to hurt.

Baba laughed once—short, broken. “Of course,” he whispered. “Why not?”

His whole life, carefully arranged. His failures. His laziness. Even his grief—designed.

The ring cooled against his finger, almost innocent.

Almost.

Inspector Mariama Sowe noticed the change immediately.

Baba sat across from her in a quiet roadside café, eyes shadowed, movements tense. Gone was the easy indifference. In its place was something sharper—contained violence wrapped in exhaustion.

“You’ve seen him,” she said.

Baba didn’t bother lying. “Yes.”

Mariama’s pen froze above her notebook. “And?”

“He likes talking,” Baba replied. “Talks too much.”

Her gaze hardened. “Describe him.”

Baba hesitated. If he spoke too much, it would all spill out—the ring, the shield, the truth about his parents. Complicated things. Dangerous things.

“I can’t,” he said finally. “Not yet.”

Mariama studied him for a long moment. Then she nodded slowly. “Fair. But listen to this.”

She slid a file toward him.

Inside were photos—burned buildings, abandoned labs, sealed warehouses along the coast. Each marked with dates stretching back decades.

“These places don’t exist officially,” Mariama said. “But they all connect to one pattern. Medical experiments. Disappearances. People declared dead who later appear… changed.”

Baba’s chest tightened.

“We’ve been chasing a ghost,” she continued. “A man who designs disasters and walks away untouched.”

She looked directly at him. “He calls himself something, doesn’t he?”

Baba swallowed. “The Architect.”

Mariama exhaled slowly. “So it’s true.”

She leaned back. “Then you’re already part of his blueprint.”

That night, Baba followed the pull again.

He didn’t fight it this time.

The city opened to him as he moved—leaping fences effortlessly, climbing walls without thinking. The ring guided him, humming softly with every step.

He found himself at an abandoned warehouse near the port.

Inside, men in dark clothing moved crates marked with unfamiliar symbols. Baba crouched in the shadows, heart pounding.

A scream echoed from deeper inside.

Without planning, Baba moved.

A guard spotted him. “Hey—!”

Baba raised his arm instinctively.

The ring unfolded.

The crow-shield burst forth, wings snapping open with a metallic shriek. The guard fired—but the bullets ricocheted harmlessly off the shield.

Baba stared, stunned.

Then the shield moved on its own.

It lunged forward, slamming the guard into a wall. Baba flinched as the man collapsed unconscious.

“What the hell…” Baba whispered.

Another guard charged.

Baba reacted faster this time.

He swung the shield.

The wings sliced the air, knocking the man flat. Baba stood there, breathing hard, green light flickering faintly in his eyes.

He hadn’t planned to fight.

But the shield had.

By the time police sirens wailed in the distance, the warehouse was empty.

Baba slipped away, heart racing, mind spinning.

On a rooftop nearby, he dropped to his knees.

“I don’t want this,” he said aloud. “I don’t want to be part of his game.”

The ring vibrated gently.

From the darkness behind him, a familiar voice spoke.

“Games,” said the Architect, stepping into the moonlight, “are only games when you refuse to understand the rules.”

Baba didn’t turn around.

“Your parents fought back,” the Architect continued calmly. “They were inconvenient variables.”

Baba’s fists clenched.

“I will kill you,” he said quietly.

The Architect smiled. “Good.”

He stepped closer. “That means the experiment is progressing.”

He vanished again, leaving behind only silence and the distant sound of waves.

Baba looked out over the city of Banjul, lights flickering like fragile stars.

For the first time in his life, effort felt unavoidable.

And that terrified him more than any monster.