The Black Queen
All my life I’ve been called many things. Most of them derogatory. But the one that really gives people goosebumps is The Black Queen. No other name trumps it. When people hear it they have sleepless nights. When people hear my name they know that I don’t play according to the rules of the game. You know why? Because I am the game. I always make the rules. I’m not among the top five most wanted criminals in over a 100 countries for nothing. Just like the Queen on the board, I am the most powerful piece and everyone else is a pawn. Funny enough a chessboard is how I got the name of Black Queen. I once killed a president with the chess piece and the name stuck ever since. But usually people assume there’s a king. Someone I’m protecting. Someone important. To an extent, they’d be right but more often than not the only thing I ever protect are my interests and right now my interest is in finding my son. Jonathan Briggs.
A long time ago, not long after I had given birth to my son I went out to visit a friend, but I never made it back home. I had been kidnapped and sold to human traffickers abroad. I eventually escaped and rescued the other victims by killing the traffickers and setting the place ablaze. Not long after that I was recruited by a secret agency and as the years rolled by I was forced to go rogue and enter a life of crime and eventually I became the figure head I currently am in the criminal underworld. But through all this I never stopped trying to find my child despite the vast ocean between us. But I never found a lead on him until now. Apparently he had been adopted by a couple and as a result had a different surname which is why it had taken me so long to find him among other things. But now I had a lead. And the lead was staring at the barrel of my gun tied to a chair in an abandoned warehouse somewhere in South Africa. Growing up in Nigeria I was always told that the fastest way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, but overtime I have come to realise that the fastest way is through the chest…with a bullet. So I put one in his chest once I got everything I needed.
Two months later I was on a plane back to Nigeria. I was going to meet a man by the name of Olu Johnson in a hotel and he was going to tell me everything he knew about my son whether he liked it or not. But he didn’t know that yet. He didn’t know that his plan to kill me was going to backfire. He didn’t know that I was steps ahead of him and no matter how much he tried he was never going to stand a chance against me. He had already lost the game before I deemed him worthy of my attention. I mean I am the game after all.
I made my way from the airport straight to the hotel. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him sitting in the hotel lobby pretending not to be watching my every move. I made my way to the reception desk and asked the receptionist if everything was in order for his eventual death. To the outside world it looked like we were just having a casual conversation. Once I was assured everything was in order, I took the key to my hotel room and made my way to the elevator. While in the elevator I noticed him heading out through the door, just as one of my most trusted agents bumped into him and discreetly poisoned him by piercing him with a sharp pointed ring on her finger. He looked shocked for a second but quickly recovered and headed out. As the elevator doors closed I couldn’t help but smile to myself. I knew that by the end of the day I’d be closer to finding my son than I’ve ever been in over twenty years.
I am the game. And I had only just begun.
