))What the HELL was he thinking? I mean honestly, who the hell says those sorts of things and laughs about them? Darweshi Brown fumed, sitting atop a lone rock which adorned what could only be called a sand dune in the middle of the ocean just outside of Talos. Muttering, the big man looked down at the sand in the center of the island, focusing on the cracked circle of glass which stood out like a sore thumb amidst the sand.
Luke...just what the f@$% was wrong with him? You don't say those things to a black man, especially to his face. It was like telling a Jew that he should have died in the Holocaust, or telling a Chinese person that the Rape of Nanking was just a day at the spa.
That's right Angavu... The burning voice of Ghadhabu whispered in his ear. This 'Luke' is a challenge to your authority...to your pride...to your ancestors. Letting him go free is admiting the truth of his words.
Darweshi said nothing, staring back at the glassy circle in the sand, the spot where he literally blew a gasket the night before, releasing more energy at once than he ever had before. The scary thought was, was that all the energy had come solely from Ghadhabu.
Calling Dar a monkey? That was a lot more weighted and hurtful than one might expect. Back in the colonial era, and even before then, when Africans were taken as slaves, one of the largest "facts" as to why that should be was that the Africans were no better than monkies. Or so the Europeans would have you believe. Hell, just take a look at George Gliddon's "Indigenous Races of the Earth".
He insulted you and your pride Angavu, you cannot let that pass...No matter what consequences may fall.
Dar fumed, knowing that one some base, primal level, he aggreed with the Spirit of Wrath inside him. Luke had it coming to him, and oh hell yeah, was Dar going to give it to him.
Calm yourself Angavu, calm yourself and think. Is that the honorable path? Is that how you maintain your pride? Think of the others, think of your team. Hodari's rock-grinding voice rumbled. Dar had half a mind to tell Hodari to shut the f#%! up and go to hell, but stopped. Sam and Ty.
This is stupid guys...you don't want to get thrown out and expelled for this! You'll be off the team and expelled! Then where will you be? Think about what you're doing man. The ghostly voices of his two teammates fluttered on by, helping to block out the constant whispers of Ghadhabu in his ear.
Yes Angavu, do not listen to the bloodlusted rantings of Ghadhabu. He may have a point in that you need revenge, you must save face, you must regain your pride, but you must be crafty, cautious, and careful. The unisex voice of Janja replied, sounding like a gentle moving stream. Strike from the shadows, unseen, ever flowing. Strike him indirectly, use your power to harrass not him, but the things around him he cares for.
Trust the two darker spirits to say such things. Hodari was barely even audible now with Ghadhabu and Janja both trying to convince Darweshi to adopt their plan. The old, airy, and wisened voice of Busaru was still silent, as he had been since the first time the Spirits came to him.
Angavu,
Angavu!
ANGAVU!
"SHUT THE F*@! UP!" Darweshi yelled to the sky, slamming a fist down on the rock, sending a few chips of stone into the air and leaving himself a nasty, but shallow cut on the edge of his hand. The spiritual voices died away, still present, but hushed and incoherent. The big man exhaled, standing up one last time and looking back towards Paragon City. It was so different from where he grew up...so much different. This wasn't his area. This wasn't him. This was not his jungle.
But if not for the sake of himself, then for the sake of the two who had stood by him since he got here, he would make it his jungle.
