“You crossed with a six eyes, they’re gonna come for you pretty soon”. The stranger said. I noticed the world around me was a bit different now. I looked to my left and I saw a man take in a huge gulp from a small glass then set it on the table before he dug his fingers into a white mass, pinched it, dipped it in a bowl of a dark green soup then fed the mixture right into his mouth. I looked to my front. The stranger came into view. His head was firmly set on his right palm, I knew he'd been staring for a while. His eyes bloomed with curiosity. An attendant branched at our table and placed a steel bowl full of water in front of me. I noticed it’s hands were steel of a different kind. When it gravitated towards another table there I noticed it wasn’t human.

It took a little bit of eye squinting and painful head tilts before I realized I was seated on the veranda of a restaurant. The pink sun that settled on the eastern horizon cast it’s melancholic hues on the restless urban landscape where ships littered the skys, brazen holograms plastered the buildings and the people went about their lives with an urgency that seemed unfamiliar to me. The bright sun sat still in the corner of the city like a motionless marble providing the only soothing rub to my physiological distress. That and the smell. When the automated attendant returned to our table and placed the bowls of food on my table. Was when things started to slowly piece itself together.

I noticed the dark grey lump jiggle when the automated server placed the bowl of food on the table. I recognized the lump. Even if I were to be in heaven or in hell. “This is Amala,” I said. Dried yam flour that was bathed in hot water then molded into a round lump. The server lowered the other bowl on the table. The stew, reddish green with seed strings layered across the steaming broth. Melon stew. I knew that smell anywhere. And old memories began to intrude on my psyche like a pesky neighbor. The faint images appeared to me through a cloudy window pane. Silhouettes of men banging on the leather talking drums they straddled between their legs. Women in elaborate head scarves twisting to the rhythm.

I peered at the memory like I was an intruder. Like I was locked out of it. Like it wasn’t my silhouette moving amongst the dancing shadows, till it was picked up by an adult, kicking it legs with abandon. You could even make out the faint echoes of a laugh. “How annoying”, I thought to myself and surfaced back to reality. ‘ Why was I being served food I hadn't seen since I was in my early teens’, I wondered. These people, I thought, some pale faces here, white folks so I didn't think much of it; thinking about it; it making sense, that would be stranger but the words ‘Ife badlands’ rang in my ears. “Are you Yoruba?” I asked the stranger who was helping himself to his own meal. “Yeah, I am” he said, with his mouth full “we all are” he gestured to the whole restaurant before digging his hands once more into his meal. “Including him?” I nudged my head at the white fellow who sported a soft blonde fuzz and slender face, “even people like him” I asked in a hushed tone like I was telling a secret “yeah people like him too” he imitated.

I figured as much. The fellow savored his food like a shaman revered his fetish. Even I couldn't replicate the intimacy. He was more Yoruba than I could ever be. “Is everyone here Yoruba” I asked, like the answer wasn’t already in front of me. “In all the kingdoms, In all the world” the stranger in Khakis responded. “Makes sense,” I said. “I’m not from this world” I said. He looked at me through squinted eyes then made a slight nod “One could figure” was his response. “You believe me?” I asked “Either that or you’re crazy. No one’s really crazy here, except if you’re from the badlands but you don’t even seem to know what that is. So yeah. I’ll take the ‘other world’ explanation, ``he said. I nodded.

“One problem though, you seem to kinda know what’s up about us. I don’t think you know what the badlands are, but you know Ife, you know how to eat Amala, you know about the Yoruba, any explanation?” he asked, “I’m part Yoruba,” I said “part?” he questioned. It made perfect sense all he ever knew were the people of his own name so i told him i was part Yoruba and we were one one many, one of billions from where I came from. “Huh, that’s a handful, so in your world, there’s folks other than us?” he said, less of a question than a statement to ponder on, “you people use codex in your world?” he asked. “Yeah I remember that guy asking me what my codex was. The hell is that.” I asked. “You codex, you know, god fragment” he answered like it was something I should have already known.

“What the hell is a god fragment?” I asked. In a hushed tone. The stranger pulled his brows into a knot searching for a way to explain the concept of his world, “okay, everyone here has to some extent a piece of a god within them. For most people it metastasizes into character traits, behaviours. If you were kin to the god Sango you’d most likely have a temper and all that. You feel me. for others, and I mean a select few, these fragments materialize into unique abilities. Let's say the person who had a connection to the god Sango was also one of these unique few, he’d most likely be able to use fire in some form. You understand?” he said “yeah, yeah i think so. Like Avatar right” I said “Ava- what?” “Never mind, I think I get the gist of it. So are you one of these special people” i asked “what do you think”

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"I'm guessing yes" I said , remembering the trick he pulled earlier. "yeah" he said before rinsing his hands in the steel basin and pulled down his collar revealing an inctricately crested sigil "piece of ogun" he said.

"So how'd you get one of these fragments, the gods give them to you?" I asked. The question, innocent as it may have seemed, dredged up an untenably arrogant smile to the surface . "Why we took it of course" he said proudly. " you took it how" I asked, my head felt like it was closing in so I wasn't sure i grabbed the thread he was weaving "how does one take something from the gods. prayer? sacrifice? what can you do to let the gods have a piece of you"

"There's nothing you can do that'd let them do such a thing. gods give guidance. Nothing more, nothing less. What we took from the gods, we took without their permission, on our own terms."

"Why" i asked

"It's simple. You see the sun. Five thousand years ago, The gods came together, decided we were unworthy of its light that burned right over us so they took it. Picked it right out of the sky. And for two thousand years, we roiled in the darkness and the terrible things that existed within. Owu, the city with the highest walls was the first to fall, thus suffered the most. Ife, the first of our civilization and once the greatest was the second. Then the rest followed"

"And I'm guessing there was a war because you guys couldn't stand living in the darkness forever. Lots of people died. But a hero rose from the ashes, maybe two heroes, two little heroes, it could be four, but they pulled an unlikely feat and won the war between man and gods" i jeered, this only brought out a quizzical smile from the stranger

"Well yes there were unlikely heroes in this war. There was Laolu the peerless. Initially he was referred to as the peerless because he was the only son of Owu. After the gods took away their sun, the city of Owu fell to Ijebu, Oyo and surprisingly Ife. They all swooped in and killed all the male. Adults, teenagers, children, all but one. So it was a surprise when he emerged and proposed an alliance with the other city states. His craft alone was second to none and it gave the name peerless a second revere"

As the stranger explained to me the story of the war that raged, I couldn't help but lean myself against the wall. The sun, the sun was beautiful that evening on my first day in this strange world. But it violet rays that blessed that melancholic evening felt like it was splitting my skull in half. A nasty feeling stirred inside of me.

An image invaded my thoughts, the image of a man, three locks bundled in scarlet brass. I saw him hang his head all solemnly. I saw the cape that draped over his body. I saw it stretch down to the darkness and I couldn't see where it ended. I wondered what his deal was. Why did he seem so bummed out? It was pissing me off. Wading through my unease i asked a slight pesky question

"This guy, Laolu. Did he have three locks, like at the back"

The stranger stopped speaking, my question seemed to have hit something in him "yes, three locks caged in scarlet brass, how'd you know. You have a story like this in your world" he asked.

"Yeah, something like that," I lied. I didn't like the fact that what I just saw could have been Laolu the peerless, it could have been someone else I thought, I told myself it was just a lucky guess. "Guessing yall have an annoying amount of holidays dedicated to this guy Laolu guy huh"

The stranger looked away for a moment and the arrogant smile he had on his face had subsumed into a sad smile that pissed me off. "It’s shocking but no"

"Hmm" was all I could manage. I wanted to ask more questions but I didn't have the strength to. The stranger continued with his history. He seemed to have regained that arrogant expression he wore earlier. I learned, Laolu the Peerless teamed up with the rejected demigod Ajaka. A cowardly merchant from Abeokuta called Sodeke, and a blind drummer boy from Ife named Akin. Together, he said, the unlikely troupe commanded the revolt of man, three thousand years ago.

The revolt of man, the words rang in my head, as with many other things, there was the solemn man draped in darkness, but there was also a blind weeping boy, and a monster in flames. The tightness in my head pressed and I knew I wasn’t going to hold. Images came with the pain. Wings of metal, Explosions and their hues lighting up the dark sky, the monster in white flames. Sitting in a cave, reaching it’s paws at me.

I awoke but found out I was no longer in the restaurant.