Black Campus Part 1

 

Emmanuel Adebayo's story began in the unforgiving streets of Ajegunle, a notorious Lagos neighborhood where survival meant developing a hard exterior. The air was thick with the scent of burning trash, the sounds of hawkers shouting, and the ever-present hum of generators. Poverty clung to the walls of the cramped houses, and danger lurked around every corner. Raised by a single mother who worked multiple jobs—selling roasted plantains by day and cleaning offices by night—Emmanuel learned early that vulnerability was a weakness. His father, a phantom figure who disappeared before his birth, left behind a legacy of anger and abandonment. The only memory Emmanuel had of him was a faded photograph tucked into his mother’s Bible, a man with a stern face and eyes that seemed to look right through him.

By the time he entered the university, Emmanuel had already become a legend of fear. His journey to higher education was not one of privilege but of sheer willpower. He had fought tooth and nail to secure a scholarship, his intelligence shining through the cracks of his rough upbringing. But the university was not a sanctuary; it was a battleground. The Crimson Wolves, the cult group he joined, wasn’t just a gang—it was his family, his protection, his entire world. Each member swore absolute loyalty, and Emmanuel ruled with a combination of charisma and terror. His tactical intelligence made him more than just a brute; he was a strategic leader who could manipulate entire campus systems.

The Crimson Wolves were more than just a group of thugs. They were a well-oiled machine, with Emmanuel at its helm. He had a knack for identifying weaknesses in people and systems, exploiting them to his advantage. A lecturer who failed cult members would mysteriously lose their job after a series of anonymous complaints and threats. Student union elections were controlled through intimidation, with Emmanuel’s enforcers ensuring that only his chosen candidates won. His word was law, and everyone knew challenging him meant risking everything—your academic future, your safety, even your life.

But Emmanuel’s rise to power was not without its costs. The deeper he sank into the world of the Crimson Wolves, the further he drifted from the boy he once was. The nights were long, filled with secret meetings, whispered plans, and the occasional violent confrontation. He became a master of disguise, able to switch from the charming, intelligent student to the ruthless leader in the blink of an eye. His mother, unaware of the darkness he had embraced, still prayed for him every night, her hands calloused from years of labor, her heart heavy with hope.