Croon was of course no stranger to the Dark Continent, and had messed about in a number of its civil wars, on one side or another (really, did it matter these days what team you picked??? truth was as reversible as fashion.) He was conversant in numerous African languages, the most important of which was baksheesh -- that was the one which opened the most doors. He had even become a folk hero of sorts, during the murderous reign of the Zombie Apocalypse, back in the early 00s when a Doomsday sect set West Africa ablaze. A Mansonesque esoteric named Dr John Omotayo had arisen from the slums of Lagos and proclaimed that the world had indeed ended in 1999, and passed into an eternal Hell. Given the living conditions in the Nigerian capital at the time, this wasn't such a fantastic claim. Before long Dr John was being worshipped by throngs of gun-toting death squads, who christened him the 'Satanic Majesty of the Underworld'. <<The world is collapsing, as if there was a black hole at its very heart>> the Just Satan announced. <<We are that Black Hole which devours everything, including the Light -- especially the Light. Let us build in the jungle the Capital of Hell, a Black Rome to mock that White Rome which lies beyond the sea.>>

It was Black versus White, Darkness against Light, and as everybody knows, Darkness always prevails. Johnist cults were imploding much of West Africa, creating civic unrest and even disrupting the global oil supply. As an agent of the White Rome (Washington DC), Croon was dispatched to teach the Devil a lesson. Even at that early age he was exhibiting an intuitive understanding of Voodoo science and an embrace of Armageddon. More importantly, his skin tone was dark enough to convince even the most paranoid parishioners that he was the local Yoruba drifter that he pretended to be. He was airdropped into the 221st chapter in Lagos, where his skills proselytizing and with the AK-47 ensured his rapid promotion through the ranks. Before too long, he was providing security for the Just Satan Himself, in the Capital of Hell. He could have gunned him down right there or called in an airstrike, but that went against his instructions. To deal the Zombies a mortal blow, a more public display was needed. Under the Zombies Easter had become the most important date in the calendar, and Dr John delivered an annual sermon at the National Stadium in Surulere. Tens of thousands of pilgrims were there, from all over Nigeria and beyond, their normally colorful attire muted for the occasion (it was Good Friday). Dr John stood on the muddy stage wearing a black cassock instead of a usual vestment, and his mood was apoplectic:

<<We gather this Rapturous Day to celebrate the betrayal and crucifixion of the Son of Man, the Lord Jesus Christ. Christ was the first Zombie, and His Resurrection marked the triumph of the Undead, over ordinary Death...>> The Just Satan slumped to the stage, blood soaking his cassock. A splitsecond later the sound of a gunshot thundered outwards, starting the pilgrims, and ricocheting off the stadium walls. Cassius Croon scanned the melee from his position in the wings, looking for an escape route. He hadn't aimed execution style, but rather fired a shot to the stomach -- to ensure a long and bloody death. How can you kill the undead? zombies never died? But here Zombie King lay dying, proof that Light can indeed penetrate Dark, and, well, light it up!

The view of the thick rainforest on the approach path to Kinshasha Airport brought it all back, and suddenly the cabin of the plane was reeking with malaria and the corrosive ambience of depleted uranium. Croon gripped his armrest involuntarily, started fumbling for the sickbag, a silent <<NOOOO!>> forming on his pursed and puckered lips. What the hell was he doing back in this accursed and brutal continent?