The Blur took a deep breath, perched high up amidst the evening branches of a sturdy Blue Mahoe. Peering out across the streets, he noted multiple JPCU barricades now diverting traffic at key intersections. Squads of armoured officers were visible stopping vehicles seemingly at random while snipers kept watch from various rooftops.

These heightened security measures risked compromising his delivery run for Killz through hostile territory. Yet refusing the summons could destroy days spent establishing underground connections vital to tracking the Loki-7 conspiracy.

Weighing his options rapidly, The Blur cantered his focus, steeling nerves for the imminent high-speed gauntlet. He would trust his honed abilities to manoeuvre past checkpoints utilizing minimum Hyper Rush exertion. Conserving power might prove essential with potential threats awaiting at journey’s end.

The hero inhaled slowly then snapped his fingers, signalling the metabolic trigger. Instantly the hustle and flow of urban life slowed to a viscous crawl. The Blur sprang from his leafy lookout, boots hitting the ground in measured strides carrying him swiftly through the molasses-like streets. Weaving around nearly frozen citizens and vehicles, he navigated the maze of obstacles at blink-of-an-eye velocity with dreadlocks streaming behind his advance.

Nearing an intersection, The Blur witnessed a hulking figure lumbering towards some paralyzed pedestrians. Recognizing this as a machete-wielding Neon Punkster, he angled past it effortlessly despite the mutation’s superior strength and shocking bulk. Even transformed into overgrown monsters, these chemically-corrupted men were merely tragic victims of an insidious narcotic plague.

Approaching the final barricades barring his destination, The Blur utilized parkour techniques to traverse up a fire escape, silencing dire protests from his burning lungs. Launching himself rooftop to rooftop, he cleared the checkpoint's line of sight completely. Dropping into a narrow side street some blocks later, The Blur slowed his superspeed exertion and began gasping painfully. Glancing left and right while catching his breath, he slipped into shadowed alleyways for rapid changing into civilian wear.

Minutes later, he was banging insistently on the fortified door of a grimy warehouse nestled between abandoned properties. Mere heartbeats passed before peepholes slid open, allowing obscured gazes to verify the visitor's identity. With a resonant clang, heavy bolts withdrew allowing Devon entry into Killz’s dark realm.

“Bout time yuh show up, rookie,” Killz spat by way of terse greeting. “While yuh been playing ‘hard to get’, Babylon out there mashing up mi operations and locking up key lieutenants!”

He paced angrily with a goblet sloshing in one broad hand. Devon eyed the other Lid Syndicate members present warily as Killz continued venting frustration over recent raids disrupting distribution. According to underground chatter, some task force had implemented a ruthless crackdown seeking to quell riots incited by Loki-7 in vulnerable townships.

“...six men strong behind bars thanks to these blasted hero cops!” Killz grumbled bitterly before swigging his drink. “Now who I have left to handle crucial deliveries, eh?”

Steeling himself, Devon met the gang lord’s baleful stare. “Well yuh still have me, Don. I can run whatever packages across hot zones if yuh need.” He silently prayed his false bravado sounded more convincing than it felt.

Killz scrutinized him pensively before replying. “Maybe, yeah. But things mad tense out there now with Babylon checkpoints left and right.” He waved towards the distant police sirens punctuating his point. “Question is whether yuh guts ready to navigate that chaos?”

Devon stood straighter, showing off a defiant glint in his eyes. “Just try me, sir. I guarantee safe passage of any items yuh give.” He glanced towards the gym bag atop the central table that he assumed contained some contraband shipment. “I know how to use these lockdown conditions to my advantage.”

“Hmm, confident words for a green youth...” Killz studied him closely, thumb stroking his bearded chin. “However, time might be ripe to properly test your loyalty.”

He stepped closer, breath tinged with spices from whatever filled that heavy goblet. “One veteran runner, Rohan, operated crucial routes before these hero patrols locked him down tighter than Fort Knox. If yuh somehow manage to reach Rohan’s usual drop points before sunrise...”

Killz retrieved a stoppered test tube brimming with viscous neon fluid from inside his embroidered vest. “Deliver this sample to Sparta Bar down on Slipe Road. Use the code phrase ‘Fire inna Babylon’ and the barkeep will verify receipt.” His stare bored into Devon intensely. “Understand?”

Devon accepted the vial, he noticed an infinity symbol etched into the chilled glass. “Yeah man, solid. Consider it done already.” He tucked the container securely inside his shirt. Sparta Bar near Slipe Road wasn’t the safest locale but he had to maintain this criminal guise at all costs.

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Killz eyed Devon pensively before nodding. “We will see now if yuh speed can match that cocky mouth.” He clasped the rookie’s shoulder tightly. “Don’t disappoint me. Else consequences for failure might impact that nice Mama I saw yuh chatting so happy with the other night...”

Cold dread gripped Devon hearing the veiled threat against his mother. Jaw clenched, he gave a wordless nod then strode purposefully toward the exit hatch, hyper-aware of the Syndicate's watchful eyes boring into his back. As the door clanged shut, sealing him amidst the cracking warzone, Devon channelled outrage over Norissa being endangered into steely resolve. He had to succeed now!

Moments later, The Blur emerged from concealing alleyways, slipping his mask on before triggering another intense Hyper Rush. Accelerating rapidly, he evaded surprized pedestrians and swerving vehicles, constantly calculating optimum routes towards the destination. He dared not squander precious seconds guessing shortcuts with armed officers liable to appear unexpectedly.

Approaching Slipe Road, The Blur noted an elevated police presence expected near the darkened Sparta bar. He circled widely to avoid detection before crossing the deserted street and slipping down the alley running behind Sparta Bar. Dropping lightly near the rear delivery entrance, The Blur obscured his costume, took off his mask then he rapped sharply thrice.

As the metal door creaked open, Devon relayed the coded phrase ‘Fire inna Babylon’ then passed a red-eyed clerk the vial.

The man’s nose wrinkled strangely smelling the odd liquid but he nodded. “I verify with Boss shortly. Yuh remember well the protocol.”

The hero gave curt thanks before retracing his steps, maintaining wariness till safely distant from patrol zones. Only after concealing his gear inside an abandoned 22 bus and waiting about an hour did he finally trigger communications. “Package delivered to Sparta Bar,” he reported simply when Killz answered. “Awaiting confirmation from yuh.”

A brief pause followed before Killz replied, his tone now tinged with awe. “Client confirm yuh success even now so yeah...yuh actually pulled it off!” He barked an incredulous laugh. “Bredda, yuh officially part of the team from now on! Come celebrate properly tomorrow at my place. I’ll text you the address.”

The Blur smiled privately, glad to finally gain the crime lord’s confidence. “Yeah man, solid! We will reason more on the morrow.” He quickly set off for home, cautiously elated at his infiltration progress yet pondering what deeper secrets still awaited within Killz’s underground empire.

***

To describe Norissa Johnson as a marvellous cook would be a supreme understatement akin to calling Usain Bolt a decent runner.

As Devon watched his excitable mother transport a sumptuous feast from kitchen to their cosy dining nook, the savoury aromas immediately set his stomach growling fiercely. Spicy jerk chicken and curry goat, callaloo rice with red peas, sweet yam puddings, ackee an saltfish...his taste buds watered and nerves settled appreciating this lovingly prepared spread.

“Gimme a hand here with the festival and them ginger beers from the fridge, nuh?” Norissa directed, mopping her glistening forehead with a floral towel. Devon set his mobile down to assist just as it chimed with an incoming video call.

“Go ahead and answer yuh friend, sweetie. I’ll handle things,” his mother assured, shooing him back towards the counter. Devon smiled gratefully before accepting the call. Tanya’s elegant features instantly filled the phone screen.

“There yuh are! Was getting worried when yuh stopped updating statuses,” she uttered in relieved greeting. “Yuh accomplish the urgent mission safe and sound I hope?”

Devon smiled slightly. “Yeah man, I made the crazy delivery even through heavy police presence. Risky endeavour but worth it.” He quickly relayed the outcome, including Killz’s ecstatic response and home invitation for the following day.

Tanya listened pensively throughout with her lovely brow knitted. “Hmm well done manoeuvring that dicey run, I admit. Though accepting more personal ties with such vipers seems...unwise.”

She inhaled slowly, absently twirling a dangling fox charm earring. “About earlier, the special detective that we were supposed to meet wasn’t at the station so I didn’t get to share any evidence, but he’s supposed to contact me when he gets back so we’ll see how that goes. Hopefully when we update them, they’ll get to contain the chaos before things spiral further out of whack....”

Devon nodded contemplatively. “Good idea to follow up on your end, yeah. Especially with random transformed attackers still roaming night streets ingesting that madness.” He sighed heavily. “Really hope shutting down these complex supply chains can stop the brutal experimentation enabling it all.”

“That makes two of us, bredda,” Tanya assured fervently. “Innocent lives hanging in the balance. Maybe linking your inside status updates with station surveillance data can speed up collaring the ringleaders. I don’t intend on letting this island become a neon zombie wasteland on my watch!”

They discussed strategic options a bit longer before signing off. Alone again waiting for dinner, Devon checked for messages then paused noticing the healthy garden lining their yard. He smiled fondly remembering days weeding vegetable patches or chasing chickens alongside Aunt Jenny. Quieter times before the quake unleashed pandemonium plus strange newfound purpose.

Hard to believe over a decade passed since then. He had merely been an ordinary schoolboy back when the earth violently shuddered, vomiting iridescent swarms from gaping fissures. The following days were pure chaos for the citizens of Jamaica, culminating with supernatural incidents after the mutant mosquito attack. So many changes in so little time...

“Earth to Devon! Yuh food is getting cold,” Norissa gently prodded, stirring him from nostalgic reverie. He joined her at the quaint table with a bashful grin, mouth already watering anew. No matter the day’s events, he could always count on beloved Mumsy’s cooking to lift his spirits. He was looking forward to the big day tomorrow.