"Young Master Damon, your ride is here." Spoke a middle-aged man with short-cropped brown hair and a small stubble wearing a black suit. He was currently bowed beside an open door that led into a limousine.
"Thank you, Ebenezer. You're always on time and reliable." Damon praised heartily, a genuine smile on his face as he patted the shoulder of his long-time driver.
Ebenezer was heartened by these words and returned the smile. "It is simply my duty, sir."
Damon nodded and sat down, straightening his suit jacket to make sure it wouldn't crumple from the leather seating. Ebenezer walked to the driver's seat, sat down, and checked in with the young master before taking off the lot.
As the car moved through traffic, Damon pressed a button, which lowered a half-body mirror. He was met with the reflection of a youth with soft caramel skin, two sharp brown eyes, and a light afro cut at the sides. His mustache, which was trimmed from both above and under his lips, connected to a neatly shaved beard that began from his chin and went all the way up to his sideburns.
The suit jacket accentuated his slightly buff body that he maintained through weekly visits to the gym. All that coupled with a respectable height of 5"11' granted to him by his father - most likely - ensured that his features would guarantee him at least a 7/10 rating in terms of positive aesthetic value.
In other words, just your typical handsome young master.
Nevertheless, Damon was more than satisfied with his own looks. It was his staple in society, and it had allowed him to fly under the radar for so long. It was likely that he would be seen through one day - that was inevitable - but this would prolong the time until that day arrived.
Damon looked through the window of the vehicle and smiled.
East Legon, a city near the capital of Ghana, Accra, known for being where the truly rich and powerful came to play. As a West African country, Ghana was mostly third-world, so the other regions outside the capital looked like they still belonged to the Stone Age.
However, not East Legon!
No, 40% of this city's residents were of white and asiatic origins, and such fellows would not allow themselves to live in a cesspool so easily.
As such, the area underwent sharp development. All sorts of commercial stores, industries, and groups settled there along with the original residents who had the money to fund it all.
For that reason, the city experienced a lightning fast development. Roads were seemingly built overnight, lands appreciated as if they were bagels in a coffee shop, and goods were shipped over en masse.
After all, you couldn't expect these first-worlders who had never seen an actual village before to drive on dirt roads with their range rovers.
The other 59% of the residents were made up of people like Damon, rich natives who either came from a line of wealth, had succeeded abroad and had come down to live as kings, or had succeeded locally and now wanted to live as lords rather than peasants.
They were the type who disdained their own people for their tough living conditions and poverty, so they had moved to areas where foreigners lived, as those had higher standards.
The part that amused Damon to no end was that those same foreigners who had settled here became reclusive once the rich natives moved over, the majority unwilling to mingle with 'their kind'.
And so, right in the heart of an African country, a form of segregation had been created since the foreigners would have their own clubs, malls, and areas they would hang out at that had been tailored to them by sharp entrepreneurs who wanted to make a quick buck.
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Of course, there was no rule banning the natives from passing through. It was just that once they did, the foreigners would slowly stop using those services until the next lucky entrepreneur would build a new one for them.
Queue this on repeat for years upon years, and the result became the lovely city of East Legon.
Damon chuckled once more. He had only moved here a few years ago, after he had finished Junior High School. Before, he had lived in a middle-class estate with his parents.
They had only really moved because the him of that time had pestered them to 'upgrade' so that he could match his peers. Typical peer pressure.
Living in East Legon was easy as long as you had money. Ghana wasn't known as a Third World country for nothing, so as long as you were richer than the average man, nothing was off-limits for you.
Even the ugliest, fattest bloke could have women that might pass as models in a better country serve them as long as their bank account was full enough.
That was also why it was so popular with foreigners. Why remain an abused salary man bachelor in a First World country when all the measly dollars you had saved up over your career would make you a rich tycoon with three women on each arm?
There was a whole industry catered around fulfilling this type of fantasy, and Damon had a part to play in the establishment of this as of recently.
His mind was pulled off random topics and tangents when he felt the car slow down. They had arrived at his destination.
It was an ultra-modern nightclub that was blasting music so loud that Damon was certain the neighbors would complain about the nuisance had they not been paid off with $10,000 in advance to ignore it.
He knew this because he was the one to foot that bill since this nightclub belonged to none other than him, and today would be its grand opening.
Damon dismounted the limo to the cheers of some important socialites and influencers who had been waiting outside for his arrival. The young master wore a handsome smile as he greeted each one of his guests by name.
It was only natural that he did so, since they were part of his network, here to advertise his club on its opening day. The socialites would look good and enjoy a great time, while the influencers would take their obnoxious videos and post them everywhere to boast that they were living far better than their viewers.
The vanity of modern social life.
Damon stepped towards the large ribbon that was tied against the door of the club, where two bouncers stood on each side. He greeted the fellows with a bro shake, and they grinned as they reciprocated.
The young master then received the oversized scissors from a beauty who was actually the club's secretary, giving her a light kiss on each cheek before he turned to view his guests. They quieted down when they saw that he was about to speak, granting him the floor.
"I'm elated to see so many familiar faces. The Golden Savages Club thanks you for making the time to be here for the grand opening event, and we're hoping that our services tonight will turn you from expectant visitors to repeat customers." Damon began charismatically.
"I won't bore you with a long speech, since it's best you enter and experience what we have to offer for yourselves, lest the mosquitoes out here will be the ones to have a bigger party than we do!" Damon joked, which was met with spell of laughter.
As the crowd cheered, he snipped the ribbon and pushed the door open. "Welcome to the Golden Savages, people!"
The club's interior was lit with neon lights, a classic disco ball hanging at the top. There were high chandeliers, three different bars, a dance floor that was made of polished wood, and two different lounge areas.
This was a club made for the classy, not for sweaty and horny casuals looking for a high or a quick fuck. The aesthetics alone doubled down on this, which made the guests extremely satisfied.
The influencers had already started recording the moment Damon had begun giving his speech, so now they had time to focus on the interior, going up and down as they filmed all of it.
The socialites moved into the lounges and split into groups, getting themselves drinks in order to loosen their mental inhibitors so that they could feel more comfortable doing things their ego would never make them do on a normal day.
All was going well for this launch, and Damon took a sip of his own wine as he watched it all from the second floor. He entered his VIP room, where he was alone except for some strangely dressed men who stood at attention on either side.
His club secretary came in, startled to see these men, though she wordlessly brought over the tray of grilled kebabs spiced with suya to go with Damon's alcohol.
The young master watched her with a strange smile on his face. He chewed on some kebabs idly as he watched the time pass. The moment it hit 9pm, he stood up and nodded to the men on either side.
The men silently came to attention, then marched out of the VIP room onto the second floor of the club. They leaned over the balconies and railings to gaze down on the socialites and influencers who had managed to get a good buzz going, some already dancing.
Alas, those were the unlucky ones, as they were the first ones pierced by the hail of bullets, painting the dance floor crimson with their blood.