Amaziah's Big Score! [Narrative][FINISHED]

[Amaziah Brown]

[This takes place some time after the thread "Taking The World By Storm"]

Kenya.

Hot damn...

The bitch was amazed. She was expecting loose lions and giraffes prancing about doing what African animals do; not seeing children strapped with AK-47's and Jason Vorhees weapon of choice on their back. With a sigh after putting on her favorite shades, Amaziah walked off the boat with nothing but one bag. You could only take a wild guess as to what was actually inside it.

I'll give you a clue; it wasn't clothes...

With her usual strut, the bitch named Brown walked into the nearest taxi that had a driver that looked like they knew a little English. Fortunate for her, he could.

"You look like your from America," he said to her, giving off a bit of his accent.

Amaziah crossed her legs and lit up a cigarette. "And you look like you ain't stupid," she replied. "And the fact you speak pretty good English helps a bit."

"Where to?" he asked her after chuckling to himself.

"The Ramada Inn," she said to the driver. "And don't try and go the long way to increase your fee; If I even see you hesitate I'm kickin' yo ass..."

The man started the taxi and began driving, keeping Amaziah's words close to his heart.

"You've been to Kenya before?" he asked.

"According to my birth certificate, yes," she said as she exhaled out her open window.

The taxi driver chuckled. "For someone who's one of us, you certainly have been Americanized," he said.

"That's because I never lived here," she said as she checked the roads, happy that he was taking her words carefully. "I was taken to America when I was three month's old. You can say that I'm here to... find out who I am..."

"Then your here to find your real parents," the taxi driver said. "Sounds like a cliched storyline to me."

Amaziah pointed to the back of his head.

"You know who your voice reminds me of?" she said. "That 'Digimon' nigga from that movie 'Blood Diamond.' Good actor, but bad on the eye if you ask me..."

The taxi driver laughed as he arrived closer to the hotel.

"You mean Djimon," he said. "Djimon Hounsou. He's from the Republic of Benin; on the other side of Africa."

Amaziah smirked before taking another puff of her cigarette. "Well, I was close," she said, letting a chuckle follow.

The taxi driver stopped at the hotel's front doors. He smiled after he finished laughing.

"Well, here we are," he told her. "The Ramada Inn, in less than five minutes."

Amaziah left the cig in her mouth as she pulled out two 100 dollar bills out of her wallet. She placed them in the slit of the divider between herself and the driver.

"What's your name, hun?" she asked the man.

The driver stared at her, turning around after placing the car in park. "Marcaille," he greeted. "Can I be privileged with yours?"

Amaziah smirked. "You can call me Ms. Brown," she said. "Will this guarantee me that I can rely on you as my chauffeur for the rest of my trip?"

The man named Marcaille took the two hundred and smiled at Amaziah. "It would be my pleasure," he told her.

"Good," she said as she opened the door. "Be here tomorrow morning around eight o' clock. I'll tell you where were going from there."

Amaziah exited the taxi with her bag in her hand, only to see the taxi driver smile and look at the road.

"Yes, ma'am," he said before he drove off.

The bitch smiled watching the man Marcaille turn the corner of the street. Once he was out of sight, she entered the hotel and approached the front counter. A white chick was on the other side of it.

Go figure...

"Welcome to the Kenyan Ramada Inn," she said in a British accent. "How can I help you?"

"I have a reservation for one week," she said.

The attendant started typing on the computer. "And what's the name under?"

Amaziah took the cigarette out of her mouth and leaned against the counter with both her hands, giving the attendant a cocky, yet seductive smirk.

"Amaziah Brown..."

[Amaziah Brown]

She woke up around six thirty that morning. Dressed in nothing but a towel after coming out of the shower, Amaziah walked down the halls of her hotel floor with her clothes underneath her arm. When she reached the laundry room, she sat and read a magazine as she waited for her clothes to wash and dry. Sure she got some awkward stares and whatnot, but tell me if the bitch decided to care?

I'll give you a hint; she didn't...

A man who thought that he could tango with her noticed her do her Basic Instinct thing while she was waiting on her clothes to dry. The sucker actually thought that she was an easy pass. The truth was, Amaziah could smell the horniness on his breath. Training in air magic can do that for you. She didn't even have to let her eyes leave the magazine that caught her interest. She could hear him approach her, even though he was trying to be as quiet as a mouth. I guess being born with Sound magic can do that for you as well. But it was with a turn of the page that the lioness started to stalk her prey.

"If you want your manhood, then you best back the fuck up off me," she warned.

The man laughed while Amaziah sighed. She didn't feel like taking another shower.

As the man prepared to grab her arm, she quickly took his and snapped it like a toothpick. His scream was immediately muffled by her fist becoming acquainted with his face. And with an under-swiped kick, Amaziah brought the horny nigga to his back. And once he landed, so did her left foot; using the man's nuts as a cushion for it's fall.

The blood coming from the man's groin soaked on her bare feet. Her face scowled at the fact that she was getting dirty again. She grabbed her clothes out of the dryer, using someone else's laundry to wipe off her feet. She headed back to her room with her clean clothes in her hand. Great way to start off the morning.

But now she needed another shower...

___________________________


By the time eight o' clock hit, Amaziah could see Marcaille pull up to the front of the hotel in his taxi. She smirked to herself as she walked down the stairs, carrying her one bag. The man came out the cab to greet her. How cliche. I mean, the nigga ain't big game; he's driving a fucking taxi in Kenya. But he was fun. That gave him points in her little black book.

She went inside the cab after Marcaille opened the door for her. Once he was behind the wheel and driving, she started to chuckle.

"You expecting a tip, Marcaille?" she said as she checked he fingernails. I could have sworn I gave you two hundred dollars yesterday."

"A gentleman can't be hospitable?" he replied.

"Where I'm from, ain't no gentleman left," she said.

"According to what you told me yesterday," he started to argue, "you are from here." He looked at her through the rear-view mirror. "Your last name sounds like it originated in America, Ms. Brown. Your first wouldn't happen to have been originated here in the motherland now, would it?"

Amaziah lit a cigarette. "Stop eating my Sesame Cake, Marcaille," she said. "That's for me to know and for you to never find out."

As the fierce bitch put up her lighter, she looked out of the windows. Her shades kept the light from blinding her, but even she was aware enough to notice that the man was aimlessly driving. Only because she never gave a destination.

"I was only curious," Marcaille said, keeping his eyes on the road. "You left our conversation rather one-sided yesterday."

Amaziah slowly pulled out one of her pistols from out of her bag. "Well, I just got off the boat then," she replied. "You can't blame a lady for being tired."

"Well every lady shows consideration, Amaziah-"

That was her cue.

Amaziah placed the gun to Marcaille's temple, wrapping her free hand around his neck. "Stop the car," she demanded.

Marcaille chuckled to himself. "Yes, ma'am."

The cab driver pulled over slowly, still in town. Once the car was in park, Amaziah brought her face near Marcaille's. It was time to get some answers from this sucker...

"How do you know my name?"

"It was given to me," he declared.

"By who?" she said.

"The people you're here to kill," Marcaille answered.

The bitch frowned underneath her shades. And since her frown wasn't made visible by the sunglasses, she showed her cab driver a smirk. "Well ain't you going about this undercover gig all wrong?" she asked him.

"I wasn't sent here to kill you, Amaziah," Marcaille declared. "I'm here to help you. You see, I know the people who want you dead all too well. But unlike them, I looked forward to finally meeting you. Ever since I was young, you were all I thought about. I grew up hearing about your adventures in the white man's lands. I wanted to make sure that when we finally united, we would be treated as equals; just as we were supposed to be..."

She didn't have time for this shit. She had a job to do. And though this nigga's existence, Amaziah found out her job knew about her as well. So she asked the only question she could reconcile to make Marcaille's ramblings make any sense.

"...the hell you talking about?!" she said.

Her voice showed traces of her sound magic. The windows in the cab cracked, and the birds around the area started to fly away in a panic. She was in no mood to play games.

"You never asked me," Marcaille said as he started to bleed from the ears a bit. He swallowed. "You never asked me what my full name was, did you?"

Amaziah's frown started to let up a bit, but not the grip on her gun. She continued to stare at him, contemplating what he meant by asking the question.

"Alright, then," she said. "What's your full name?"

Marcaille once again chuckled to himself as he looked at Amaziah, the bleeding from his ears seeming to calm down.

"My name is Marcaille C. Bakari," he told her. He swallowed. "I'm your little brother."

[Amaziah Brown]

A couple of hours passed in the pulled over taxi cab holding Marcaille and Amaziah. She had to move herself to the passengers seat of the car so she could get comfortable hearing this fool's story.

Apparently, Marcaille Bakari was born about a year after Amaziah was. And while she was sent off to America, Marcaille was kept here to learn the family trade; smuggling diamonds from the aftermath of the Sierra Leone Civil War.

He was brought up as a child soldier, with his parents overseeing diamond mines in Kenya and preparing to use those and the ones smuggled by the past Civil War to finance his parent's transformation into Kenyan warlords. There was only one thing about his story that Amaziah didn't want to believe:

That his parents were indeed her own biological ones.

The bitch kept the gun pointed at her supposed little brother. "So let me get this straight," she started. "Your parents-"

"Our parents, Amaziah," Marcaille interrupted.

She waved him off. "Whatever," she said. "So... these fools are basically trying to start another Civil War here in Kenya, in hopes of gaining a seat of power here in Africa?" Amaziah chuckled while shaking her head. "Why is every single nigga trying to rule the world?"

"Not everyone is, big sister," Marcaille stated.

"Don't call me that," she said instantly with a cock of her gun.

Marcaille sat there with his smile and his hands raised. "Our parents sent you to America for you to live a better life; this is true," Marcaille confirmed. "But what they were hoping would happen was that once you have lived that better life, you would use what you have learned to assist them in their operation. When they had me, they kept me here so that your ways of the American would balance out with my ways of the motherland. They want us to take over."

Amaziah frowned a bit. "So why are you telling me this now instead of taking us to 'mom and pops'?" she asked sarcastically.

Marcaille chuckled. "Because I don't want that life," he responded. "I want a life of adventure; of meaning. I want a life just like yours."

"You don't know shit about my life, little brother," she once again said sarcastically.

"Ever since your foster parents the Browns picked you up from the docks of New York City," Marcaille continued, "our parents watched your every move. They know about your lust for revenge after your foster mother was shot and killed. They know about your extensive training in martial arts, guns and bladed weapons. They know about you becoming an assassin-for-hire before becoming a female Berserker for the Temneigakure. They know everything about you, Amaziah. And since I am their son, I know everything about you as well."

Amaziah brought the barrel to his cheek, frowning. "Well what else do you know, sucka?!" she angrily whispered.

Marcaille chuckled. "I know..." he began. "I know that who you were sent here to kill -- the people that sent me to capture you -- are our parents."

Marcaille turned around to face Amaziah, letting the barrel of her gun rest on his forehead.

"And I want to help you kill them."

[Amaziah Brown]

Amaziah's sound magic immediately came to play again. This time however, she used it to pick up the noise made by about thirty men nearby cocking weapons. She frowned. It wasn't because it was an unfair situation for her, but the bitch frowned in confirmation. After hearing these wanna-be stealthy motherfuckers cock they shit, Amaziah was convinced that everything she just heard Marcaille say was true.

Even if that meant he was her little brother.

"We got company," she said. "Get out the other end of the car when I say."

Marcaille did not hesitate to agree. That was cool to Amaziah; she didn't feel like having to knock some sense into that skull of his. She watched him as he placed his hand on the car handle, waiting for her signal.

"When I say so," she whispered, "Head to the store over there until I'm through with these suckas."

"How many are there?" he asked.

"There's at least ten on the rooftop across from us, fifteen coming from the side street and about five behind us."

He looked at her with worry. "And you can take them all?"

The bitch smirked. "It's what I do."

Soon, Amaziah could start to hear men yell orders in their native language. She took her other pistol and her katana out of her bag, placing the sword at her side and cocking the other pistol to get it prepared. She breathed normally and counted to five.

"GO!"

She watched Marcaille quickly open the door and run across the street to the store. Amaziah followed in suit, only to turn around and see the five men approach the car, aiming for the bitch. With one of her pistols she aimed for the bag she left in the car. Taking a shot, the bag exploded on impact. It caused the car to erupt in a fiery explosion, killing the five men instantly.

She heard yelling. The fifteen men she heard earlier ran down the street towards her, holding weapons you could only get from the black market. As they pulled theirs out, Amaziah put hers away. When they shot at her, she simply whistled. Using her Air magic, the bullets sprayed from their guns were turned away from a sudden force of wind her whistle created.

The gust was so strong that it disarmed the men from their hand-held weapons. She drew her sword and ran into the ball of confusion she created, taking advantage of their disorientation and cut them into little bitty pieces.

I tell you, this bitch is bad...

Sheathing her blade and pulling out her pistols, she started to dance around the barrage of bullets being sprayed from the rooftop from the remaining ten soldiers. Using her sound magic, she ran up the sky to the rooftop the men were on, successfully avoiding their bullets by creating a field of sound around her to detonate the bullets on contact.

She flipped off her wave of sound and landed on the rooftop, facing the ten men. They let rip everything they had on the bitch. But once again, Amaziah used her sound magic to detonate every single bullet sent her way. Once they realized that the bitch was still standing, they started sweating in fear faster than a fat man in a mile-long run.

Amaziah raised her pistols that were specially created to form sound magic into unlimited ammunition. A cocky smirk crawled on her face as the sun glimmered off her shades and earrings. She saw the worry and the fear on their faces. And honestly, they had every right to be afraid. Because I can tell that both the soldiers and this bitch were thinking the same thing that moment:

These niggas were about to get dead.

She shot her sound pistols on the surface near the ten soldiers at an angle. Now normally, whenever these guns shot normally, they would send a fierce blast of sound magic on impact that would do the job in just one shot. But the fact that the bitch shot two, and at an angle that the bullets collided with each other? Nigga, that's death-con five!

The blast from the two sound bullets not only blasted the ten soldiers into the sky, but it also took half the building and everything else the sound blast faced out of commission. That included buildings, streets and sidewalks, unlucky motherfuckers; everything. Once the dust and shit settled, half of the Kenyan community was one big crater.

I told you this bitch was bad...

Using her air magic to glide safely to the half of the town that was unaffected by the bitches fury, Amaziah ran inside the store she told her supposed little brother to enter.

"Marcaille!" she called. She looked around the store. "Marcaille where the hell are you?"

She heard a gun cock behind her. And whereas it wasn't immediately behind her head, she knew that whenever a sound like that occurs in a place as private as this, that shit was gonna go down. She turned around to see Marcaille tied to a chair and an old black man holding a gun to his head.

Next to that man was a black woman with dreads that looked ten times better than Whoopi's. She was unarmed but fine as hell, however that works. She saw her smile like she had been waiting for this to happen for quite a while. Even Amaziah was curious as to wonder who this bitch was.

But the old nigga spoke first.

"Hello, Amaziah," he said to her.

The bitch we're rooting for readied one of her pistols.

"Oh no, nigga," she replied. "You don't get to call me by my name."

"After 23 years of waiting," the woman said, "you have finally come back to us."

The chick in question walked toward Amaziah. And all Amaziah could do was stare at her in curiosity.

"Who are you?" she asked.

The woman stopped walking and chuckled lightly. "What does your heart tell you, child?" she asked.

Once again, Amaziah took a breath. Once she let go of it, she looked at Marcaille. He nodded to her, making sure that the old man with the gun pointed to his head was too busy occupied by looking at our heroine. With that confirmation from Marcaille, Amaziah swallowed before looking back at the trick in her personal space. Then, with a sigh, she answered her question.

"You're my biological mother?"

The chick smiled. "Yes," she replied. "Yes I am..."

[Amaziah Brown]

Amaziah stood there, keeping her gun pointed at her biological mother while keeping her finger firmly on the trigger. She tried her best to keep whatever was left of her composure. But when your looking at the face of the bitch that brought you in this world just to toss you out of their life after 23 years, the shit kinda gets hard to handle, you know what I mean?

The bitch smirked. "This is one hell of a family reunion you planned up, mama," she said sarcastically. "You got daddy holding a gun to my little brothers head and you pull this Darth Vader-type shit out your ass?"

"Believe me when I say, Amaziah," her mother started, "that this is not how I wanted this miraculous moment to succumb to. Your brother's disobedience forced my hand. But I am glad that he has done what he did. Because if he hadn't, then I would have never seen the warrior you have trained yourself to be." She moved closer to her. "The warrior you were born to be."

"Take another step and I'll shoot your leg off so fast, I'll be callin' you Big Mama," Amaziah threatened.

"You still do not believe we are your real parents?" the woman asked.

"Oh, I believe it," Amaziah answered. "It's just that I know the real reason why you brought me in this world."

Amaziah's mother looked back at Marcaille, frowning at him passionately. "Do you now?" she said to her daughter.

"Whoever gave you the idea of having kids just for the sole purpose of running what you call an empire for you is a walking jar of lies," Amaziah said. "You think your powerful by trying to repeat history here in Africa just to make yourself feel better. Who the hell do you think you are to have say in what happens in Marcaille's life after you sent him through the shit he went through as a kid, or mine when you haven't even decided to give a damn about me until I was ready to fulfill this jive-ass purpose you planned for my life?!"

Our bitch was pissed, I'll tell you that much for sure. She was definitely talking a lot of game at that moment. But the only thing that helped her was the fact that she could back it up easily as hell.

"You may have given birth to me," she started to say as strong as ever. "But I'll tell you this now; you ain't now, nor ever will be my mother!"

The dread-locked bitch frowned at her. And with a thrust of her hand, she sent out a powerful push of sound magic her way. Our heroine was caught off guard, but not enough to block some of the attack with her own. It sent her out the store and into the crater her pistols created.

"Amaziah!" Marcaille yelled to his big sister. He frowned at his mother with a hatred that matched Amaziah's own. "How could you?!"

The woman only smiled as a staff appeared in her right hand.

"I will not take such sass from you, young lady," the woman said before sprouting gray-feathered wings. She sighed after allowing them to stretch in full.

Amaziah stood back up, only to see Marcaille free himself from the ropes of the chair. Once the old man shot his gun in his direction, Amaziah watched amazingly as all it took was one motion of Marcaille's hand to stop the bullets dead track in the air. She smirked, realizing that her little brother could control metal.

"I'm sorry, papa," he said. And once those words were spoken, he redirected the bullets in the old man's direction. And afterward, well let's just say that this papa needed a brand new bag.

A body bag, that is...

"Abasi!" the chick yelled. She frowned at her son, who only had a cocky grin on his face.

"There's no where to go, Adhra," he called their mother by her name. "You're choirless; you can't beat us both."

Adhra grinned evilly as she twirled her staff. "You're right," she said. Once she twirled it, she instantly attacked him by slapping the blunt end against his head.

"NO!" Amaziah yelled as she watched her little brother fall unconscious. She frowned at Adhra as she seemed to smirk at the fact that she pissed her off.

Oooh, if she only knew what trouble she was in...

"The fate of your brother will be decided to you, Amaziah," Adhra said. "Take my place here on earth so that I may return to Heaven and reclaim my racial abilities!"

Amaziah frowned at the woman who gave birth to her. And acting quickly, she used her air magic to quickly slide Marcaille's body outside the store and into the street, where she encased his body in a barrier of sound magic to protect him from the aftermath of this ass-beating this bitch deserved.

"Heaven?" Amaziah said as she drew her katana. "Bitch, when I'm done with you, not even Hell's gonna want yo' sorry ass!"

Adhra frowned as she twirled her staff and flapped her wings, trying to intimidate Amaziah. But let's check and see how well that worked out.

Oh would you look at that; It didn't...

As Amaziah got ready for her big score, she only returned her mother's intimidation with four words.

"Bring it on, bitch..."

[Amaziah Brown]

Amaziah watched as the choirless Adhra flew toward her. Readying herself, Amaziah was able to mount her after bypassing an attack with her bitch-stick. She was able to maneuver both of them outside of the store and into the town, fairing out the battlefield a bit. Amaziah continued to punch Adhra in the face, while at the same time hanging on and trying to dodge elbow blows from her cunt of a mother.

Adhra flew higher into the air, trying to see if a higher altitude would get Amaziah to let up. Instead, Amaziah grabbed Adhra's locks and pulled her backward after digging her heels into her back. She heard the angel scream from Amaziah's tight pull. This put her wings out of commission for a while, causing the two of them to drop. Amaziah let go of the choirless bitch, but using her abilities over Air magic, she was able keep afloat long enough to wait for Adhra to gather her lift and continue their fight.

The angel started to attack with her staff as she and Amaziah continued to duel in the air. Our bitch retaliated with her sheathed katana, not finding it the time yet to let the angel meet her steel. Once their weapons met, Amaziah kicked Adhra in the face, knocking her back a bit. Using her Air magic, Amaziah took advantage of Adhra's delayed reaction to the kick and summoned a powerful gust of wind to blow her flight pattern out of whack.

Amaziah immediately used her Air magic to pursue her, until Adhra surprisingly sent an equally powerful amount of sound magic her daughters way. The Air magic surrounding Amaziah was able to protect her enough from the Sound magic killing her, but it blasted her upward and had her disoriented enough to not counter what her opponent had next.

By the time she opened her eyes, she felt the sting to the face of Adhra's staff. That was followed by a blow to the ribs. It was somewhat cushioned by her Air magic, but it was still rather effective. By the time Adhra got a chance to kick her in the chest in a back flip, Amaziah's concentration on her Air magic to keep her in the air was just about lost it's patience. Gravity was just about to claim her body, until Adhra caught her throat with her free hand. She frowned at her as she brought her face close to her own. And Amaziah only frowned back in return.

"You disappoint me, daughter," Adhra hissed at her. "Your life could have had meaning if you followed me; it could have had purpose. But you choose to live your short life following a bureaucracy that my kind control. You are nothing, Amaziah. Your brother is nothing, and the life of that bitch you seek to avenge is nothing."

Amaziah could only frown at Adhra, showing her teeth like the ferocious lioness that she was. But apparently, Adhra wasn't intimidated. Instead, she smirked at the sight.

"Oh," Adhra said mockingly. "It seems that I have struck a chord. Well, don't bottle your emotions dear; If you have something to say, then say it."

Suddenly, Amaziah's toothed snarl turned into a frowned smirk. And for the first time, she did what the cunt told her to do.

"Bang, bang."

Adhra looked confused until she felt cold steel touch the stem of her wings. She looked at her sides and was surprised to see her two Sound pistols aimed at her wing stems. She looked at Amaziah with a surprised look, while Amaziah could only smirk.

"Ta da, bitch."

And she shot both guns, watching as the suppressed Sound magic immediately blew away Adhra's wings and parts of her sides. The choirless screamed in pain as she let go of Amaziah's neck, starting to plummet to the ground. But as she let go of our heroine's neck, Amaziah returned the kick to her chest, using her Air magic to quicken the angel's fall and to slow down her own.

By the time Amaziah landed, she saw the wingless choirless Adhra in the crater she created earlier. She was bleeding profusely, unable to move due to her obvious broken limbs and bones. Amaziah walked up to her and rested one of her heels on her chest.

"Killing me won't give your life purpose, Amaziah," she uttered. "It will only take it away. You will have nowhere else to go. Your entire life will be about your self-righteous vengeance over a woman you don't even know. You will be alone and without what you never had but always wanted; a mother."

Amaziah took off her shades. She watched them as she folded the ends away and placed them in-between her shirt showing her tits before staring at the wingless bitch with one hand on her hip and a Sound pistol in the other.

"My mother," Amaziah said, "was Selma Brown. She gave me love, she gave me time, and she gave me purpose."

She raised that one Sound pistol and aimed it at Adhra's head.

"And the only thing you gave me," Amaziah said, "was a big-ass headache."

Adhra swallowed. "Amaziah-"

"Bitch, die."

Then she pulled the trigger. She watched as the area immediately was overtaken by dust and shit. Once it cleared, she saw that Adhra's body was without a head.

Or shoulders.

Or a chest.

Amaziah placed her gun over her shoulder as she looked at the lifeless angel's body. She smirked.

"Rest in pieces, bitch," she said.

"Amaziah..."

The bitch turned around, only to smile seeing Marcaille walk out of the store. He rubbed his head and smiled at his big sister, who immediately ran to his location.

"Good to see you have such a hard head," she said.

"Is she dead?" Marcaille asked.

"As a motherfuckin' doorknob," she replied.

Marcaille smiled and sighed. "Then it's over," he said. "Without a leader, whatever forces she formed will learn that they are free. They'll return to their families where they belong. I guess you can consider your mission to be accomplished."

"I guess so," she said. "Come on; take me back to the hotel."

"The hotel?" Marcaille said confused. "You blew up my taxi!"

"Nigga, I gave you 200 dollars!" she went off. "You better work that metal magic of yours and make you another damn taxi!"

Marcaille chuckled.

"Yes, ma'am."

[Amaziah Brown]

It took Amaziah a week for her to completely heal from the brawl she had with Adhra. And through that week her little brother Marcaille was right by her side. During that week, Marcaille told Amaziah about Adhra and Abasi -- their father; like how they were the offspring of a choirless Seraph angel and a human male, who practiced Metal magic in his youth, but became rather weak in it as he got older because of his involvement in Adhra's scheme to take over Africa. And Amaziah was grateful for the knowledge; just because she didn't claim the motherfuckers didn't mean that she didn't care where she came from.

It was obvious that Amaziah received her Sound magic from her mother, just like it was evident that Marcaille claimed his Metal magic from his father. And it was the fact that Amaziah and Marcaille seemed to get along rather great told her one thing.

What Adhra told her was wrong; she would never be alone...

Well the week passed, and she had to head back to the Tenmeigakure. Marcaille drove her to her boat and helped her board. He and Amaziah stood outside the docking board, preparing to say their goodbyes.

"What will you do now?" he asked.

"I gotta talk to my boss back at the Tenmeigakure," Amaziah said. "You know, report how the mission went and tell him that it was accomplished."

Marcaille nodded. "Right," he said. "It was good finally seeing you."

"Nigga, don't talk like you never gonna see me again," she laughed. "If I don't find out that you haven't left Africa in at least a week, I'm coming back to kick yo' ass for sure this time!"

The two laughed, even though both knew she was serious about that last statement. Marcaille looked at her and nodded.

"You have my word, Amaziah," he said to her. "I'll join up with you shortly."

"You better," she said. "Now come show your big sister some love."

The two hugged before Amaziah went up the ramp to board her boat. She looked back at him and waved.

"I'll be lookin' out for you, nigga!" she yelled playfully.

She could see Marcaille smile as she got on the boat. "I know!" he yelled back. "I'll see you in a week!"

With that, Amaziah and the boat pulled out of the harbor. She leaned against the railing, looking at Marcaille until the horizon wouldn't let her anymore. Once she couldn't, she took a seat, she sat in a lounge chair. Her shades covered her eyes as she sat back with a smile on her face.

No, she wasn't alone; not really...

Then this random-ass lookin' nigga came up to her, checking her out like she wasn't there. She could see him grin like the horny dog he probably was.

"Now what's a girl like you doin' all alone out here?" he asked.

Amaziah sighed and placed her hands behind her head. She slightly stared at the man.

"If you want your manhood, then you best back the fuck up off me," she warned.

The man laughed while Amaziah sighed. She didn't feel like taking another shower....