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Boo was inside of the kitchen sweeping the floor and singing Boo’d up, when she looked up and seen her four-year-old son, Cordary, peering out of the curtains. Just a second ago he was sitting on the floor playing with his toys and watching television, so she wondered what had stole his interest. Her brows deepened with grooves as she propped the broom up against the wall and walked inside of the living room.
“Cordary, what are you looking at out there?” Boo inquired as she took her nickel plated .22 from underneath the middle cushion of the couch. A strange feeling had come over her so she decided to grab her gun.
Cordary was startled by his mother calling his name. He turned around to her with a puzzled look on his face holding one of his toys. His innocent eyes darted to the gun in his mother’s hand and his brows scrunched up, wondering what she was doing with it. He’d saw guns before on television and he knew exactly what they did. So it worried him that his mother was packing one. The first thing that came to his young mind was that they were in danger.
“What’s the matter, momma? What’s going on?” the little dude asked with genuine concern.
“Did you see someone out there, baby?” Boo asked, ignoring the boy’s question. The first thing she thought was T.J. had found out where she was staying and had come to murder her scandalous ass. She looked out through the curtains and scanned the outside, but she didn’t see anyone in sight. “Cordary, who did you see outside?”
“I saw a man in all-black; he was creepin’ around the side of the house.” Cordary reported.
Boo took her face from out of the window and turned around to her son, kneeling down to him so they’d be at eye level. “You said he was creeping where?”
“Around the side of the house, bitch!” A strong masculine voice came from the back of Boo and her son.
Boo’s heart dropped and she whipped around to where she’d heard the voice come from. She spotted a masked up nigga, who was pointing a gun at her. She went to point her gun at him, and he shot her in the thigh. She hollered out in pain and fell on the floor, grimacing.
“Mommy!” Cordary called out to her, running to her aid. “Are you okay?”
Right then, the masked up nigga, T.J., yanked Cordary aside and pointed his gun at Boo’s face. “Drop that burna, bitch, you already know what time it is!”
Boo obliged T.J. and he kicked the .22 aside. The small gun spun around in circles as it slid across the floor.
“Uhhhh!” T.J.’s eyes bulged and he grabbed his aching balls with one hand. He doubled over in pain, having been kicked in his crotch by Boo.
“Run, baby, run!” Boo called out to her son. The boy took off running. He’d cleared the kitchen threshold, when a masked up Te’Qui snatched his little ass up. The boy kicked and screamed as Te’Qui carried him back inside of the living room.
“Aaaaah, sssss, you fucking bitch! You gon’ pay-oh, yeah, you gon’ pay for that one.” T.J. swore as he winced in excruciation, holding himself. He stood upright, and pointing his gun at Boo’s kneecap.
“Nooooo, don’t hurt my mommy!” Cordary hollered out, and that’s when it happened.
Blowl!
Boo’s kneecap exploded upon impact of the hollow tip slug. She grabbed it with both hands and threw her head back, screaming in agony. Tears rolled out of her eyes and blood seeped between her fingers. Lying where she was on the shiny waxed floor, she bawled and whined like a toddler.
Seeing that she was already in great pain, T.J. took the liberty to stomp on her thigh, adding to her suffering.
“Fonky-ass hoe! That shit, hurt don’t it?”
“Please, T.J., stop! No more!” Boo begged him.
“Daddy, why are you doin’ this? Stop, you’re hurting mommy!” Cordary called out, with tears spilling down his cheeks. He was afraid for his mother.
“Welp, since he knows who I am anyway,” T.J. pulled off his ski-mask and stuffed it into his right back pocket, letting it hang like a gangbanger would his bandana. He then turned around to his son, saying, “I know I’m hurting mommy, she’s been bad. This is her punishment for being bad. You know, like how you getta spanking for acting up?” Cordary nodded and wiped the tears from his dripping eyes. “Don’t worry, this’ll all be over in a bit, lil’ man. Just have a seat at that table over there. Then, I want chu to shut your eyes and cover your ears for me.”
Te’Qui released Cordary and he pulled out a chair at the dining room table, sitting down in it. He then did exactly like his father had told him, shutting his eyelids and covering his ears.
“Back to this hoe,” T.J. turned around to Boo and kicked her in the stomach.
“Uhhhhh!” Boo’s body jerked from the kick. Her eyes widened and watered. She held her stomach, having gotten the wind knocked out of her.
“Now, where my money and dope at?”
“If-if I tell you-you gon’ kill me anyway. So, fuck you, gon’ head and do it!” Boo told him, as she continued to bawl on the floor, dripping blood.
“Boy, I tell you, you and yo’ homegirl Tangela. I see where we at with it. I guess I gotta go there,” T.J. tucked his banga at the front of his Dickies and made his way inside of the kitchen. Te’Qui kept a watchful eye on Boo and Cordary while listening to his homeboy rifle through the kitchen drawer. He heard the sound of silverware clinking together, and then a moment later, T.J. came marching out of the kitchen, meat cleaver in his gloved hand.
“Yo’, go over there and watch that bitch. I got lil’ man from here,” T.J. told Te’Qui.
“What chu ‘bouta do, dawg?” Te’Qui looked back and forth between the meat cleaver in T.J.’s hand and the sinister look in his eyes.
T.J. looked at Te’Qui in annoyance, saying, “My nigga, what’s up with the questions? Just hold me down.”
Te’Qui went to do what he was told. He stood over Boo with his Glizzy at his side. If his homie told him to nod her ass, then that’s exactly what the fuck he was going to do. What was making him uneasy now was T.J. having that meat cleaver out around Cordary. The only reason why he was going to let the scenario play out was because the boy was of T.J.’s blood, and he didn’t think he’d harm him. Te’Qui had it in his mind that homeboy was just going to use the meat cleaver as a scare tatic.
“Limme see yo’ hand, lil’ man,” Te’Qui sat the meat cleaver down on the dining room table and rolled up Cordary’s sleeve. He then placed his hand flat down on the table top and picked up the meat cleaver.
“What-what’re you doing to him?” Boo whined.
A scared Cordary looked back and forth between the meat cleaver and his outstretched hand. He trembled and tears ran down his face.
“Daddy, no, no! Please!” Cordary pleaded, green snot bubbling out of his nose. His head snapped over to his mother. “Mommy, stop ‘em, stop dad! He’s goin’ to hurt me!” He hollered hysterically, trying to yank his small arm from his father’s grasp. T.J., being the adult, was much stronger than him though, so he couldn’t pull himself free from his grip.
“T.J., stop! Don’t hurt ‘em, he’s your son! He’s your son for Christ sake!” Boo screamed and yelled from the floor. The tears seemed to be cascading down her cheeks and snot was threatening to drip from her right nostril.
“He’s my son? My son, huh?” T.J. looked at her and laughed maniacally.
“Yes, yes, he’s your son! He’s your blood!” Boo hollered out to him.
“Hahahahahahaha!” T.J. laughed even harder this time. This caused Te’Qui to look back and forth between Boo and T.J. He didn’t know why the fuck that nigga was laughing like that. “Bitch, this lil’ big eared mothafucka ain’t come from out my dick! He that Compton nigga son you was fucking...Drama!” When he said this, recognition flashed in Boo’s eyes. It was from this that he knew that it was undoubtedly true. Drama had told him that Cordary was actually his ‘son’ before he attempted to blow a hole in him. “You didn’t think a nigga knew that, huh? Well, I do! The streets talk, baby girl, and I just so happen to be listening.” he lifted his meat cleaver above his head in a striking motion.
“Noooo, noooooo, nooooooo!” Boo screamed and screamed, outstretching her bloody hand towards her son. Little Cordary was looking at her pleadingly, slimy snot sliding over his lips. His face was shiny from crying.
“Mommy, pleeeease, please, stop ‘em! Stop ‘em!” Cordary screamed and cried. He was screaming so loudly that he was starting to grow hoarse.
“Yo’, stop, man, stop!” Te’Qui told T.J. as he advanced towards him. Things had gone too far and he couldn’t allow him to chop off little Cordary’s hand.
“I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you!” Boo told him over and over again, afraid for her son.
“Where the fuck is my shit?” T.J. slammed the meat cleaver down and the entire living room fell silent. Still lying on the floor, Boo stared at T.J. and her son, breathing heavily. Her heart was thudding madly. Cordary was staring at the meat cleaver, which was lodged into the wooden table. His chest jumped up and down, as he breathed huskily.
“Where’s my shit, Boo? I’m not gon’ ask you not one mo’ mothafucking time!” T.J. spoke sternly as he held his finger up.
Boo shut her eyelids briefly and took a deep breath. She silently thanked God for stopping T.J. from chopping her son’s arm off. Once she peeled her eyelids back open, she looked up at T.J. “Okay. Look, that nigga, Drama, sold all the dope to some niggaz in Compton. We spent some of the money, but we got some left.”
T.J. pulled the meat cleaver out of the table top with two tugs. He then said, “Where that shit at?”
“It’s inside of the deep freezer, inside of the kitchen.” she pointed to the kitchen with a bloody finger.
“How much is left?” T.J. inquired.
“About forty gees.” she admitted.
T.J. looked back and forth between Boo and the kitchen. He wagged his meat cleaver at her as he talked to her, saying, “If I open up that freezer and find anything less than forty bands, I’ma waltz back in her and chop yo’ mothafucking head off.”
T.J. sat the meat cleaver down on the dining room table and walked into the kitchen, stopping at the deep freezer. He opened the deep freezer and peered inside, rifling through the frozen packages of meats. A smile spread across his lips when he uncovered a block of money sealed tight in plastic. He then removed the block of money and shut the freezer. Afterwards, he walked back inside of the dining room with the block tucked under his arm, like a baseball. Looking at Boo, he said, “I’m not even gon’ bother to count this shit up. Although you a trifling, no good, rotten skeeza, I’ma take yo’ word for it.”
“Bag that shit so we can go, my nigga,” Te’Qui told T.J.
“I am ol’ impatient-ass nigga. First, I wanna raid this bitch’s bedroom. She was laid up with a street nigga, so I know he’s gotta stash somewhere in this bitch.” T.J. responded. “Hold this shit down ‘til I get back.”
T.J. disappeared inside of the bedroom, turning over all of the furniture and flipping the mattress. He came up on twenty g-stacks, a couple of Rolex watches and some other jewelry. He stashed the goods and the money inside of a Nike duffle bag which he found at the back of the closet.
“Awww, fuck!” T.J. heard Te’Qui holler out in pain from the living room. He hoisted the strap of the Nike duffle bag over his shoulder and ran back inside of the living room. His eyes widened with surprise when he saw Te’Qui kneeled on the floor. He was wincing and holding his bleeding arm, with the meat cleaver beside it. T.J. looked to the dining room table and Cordary was long gone.
“My nigga, what the fuck happened?” T.J. asked concerned, forehead creased with worry.
Lil’ mothafucka chopped me in my arm with that cleaver and ran out of the backdoor.” Te’Qui was gritting as he nodded to the blood stained meat cleaver and then towards the kitchen, where the backdoor was located.
“How the fuck you let that lil’ nigga do that? He was way over there?” T.J. said. He didn’t wait for Te’Qui response. He snatched his ski-mask from out of his back pocket and pulled it down over his face. “Come on so we can catch this mothafucka, man.” he pulled Te’Qui back upon his feet and then picked up the meat cleaver. He wiped the blood stained cleaver off on his pants leg and tucked it in his belt. See, forensics was a mothafucka and he wasn’t trying to get caught up on the account of DNA being left behind.
“Please, don’t kill ‘em, T.J. Don’t kill my son, he doesn’t have anything to do with this!” Boo begged for T.J.’s mercy. By this time she was sweating and pale from having been shot. Her face was shiny from crying and the slimy green snot from her nose had dried.
“You don’t want me to slump that lil’ nigga, then tell me where homeboy at that helped you rob my ass.” T.J. told her.
Boo gave T.J. the address to where Drama was at.
“Good looking out.” T.J. pulled out his banga and blew her brains out. He then tucked his gun and nudged Te’Qui to follow him out of the backdoor. At this time, police car sirens wailed loudly, heading to their location.
T.J. and Te’Qui made hurried footsteps across the lawn of the backyard. Looking ahead, T.J. saw Cordary drop down from the gate, having just climbed over it. He watched as the little dude hauled ass down the alley.
“There that lil’ mothafucka is!” T.J. pointed out to Te’Qui, who was running beside him holding his wounded arm.
T.J. tossed his duffle bag over the gate. He then scaled it alongside Te’Qui. Once they were halfway down on the opposite side of the gate, they jumped down to the graveled ground. T.J. picked up the duffle bag and tossed it into the backseat of the getaway car. He and Te’Qui then jumped into the vehicle, and he sped off after Cordary. While speeding after Cordary, who was running as fast as he could down the alley, they glanced to their right. In between the houses, they saw several police cars with their flashing lights racing to the house that they’d just left.
“Lil’ fucka!” T.J. said, staring ahead at Cordary as he fled. He smiled devilishly and gripped the steering wheel, mashing the gas pedal down to the floor. The engine of the getaway car revved up and ripped down the alley, leaving debris and loose trash in its wake.
Te’Qui’s head whipped back and forth between the windshield and T.J., fearful of what he was about to do to young Cordary.
“Fuck is you doin’, bro?” Te’Qui asked.
“Fuck you think? I’m finna mow his lil’ ass down.” his eyebrows arched and he bit down hard on his bottom lip.
Right then, Te’Qui grabbed hold of the steering wheel. He and T.J. tugged back and forth for control of it. Realizing that his efforts were useless, T.J. tried a different approach. He elbowed Te’Qui in his stomach which doubled him over. Following up, he chopped him in the throat, which caused him to gag. Te’Qui’s eyes bugged and watered, as he grabbed his neck with both hands. He slid over to the passenger side window struggling to breathe.
With Te’Qui out of the fight, T.J. floored the gas pedal again, ripping down the alley. The bright headlights of his getaway car shined on Cordary, putting him in the spotlight. The sweaty boy looked back and forth over his shoulder at the car at his rear. His eyes were wide with terror and his heart was beating insanely. His tiny chest jumped up and down with every terrified breath he took.
Ba-dunk! Bunk!
The getaway car rocked from left to right as he ran over Cordary’s body. T.J. could hear the boy’s bones snapping and popping as it was crushed by the four ton vehicle. Having mowed down the small child, T.J. adjusted his rearview mirror and looked at what was left of Cordary. He saw the boy’s brains mashed against the asphalt and his severed leg lying not too far from it.
Still breathing funny, Te’Qui pulled himself from the passenger window and looked out of the back window. Sadness poisoned his eyes and anger swelled his heart, seeing Cordary splattered on the ground behind them.
“What the fuck you do that for, man? He was just a kid!” Te’ Qui screamed at him, spit leaping off his lips.
T.J. scowled hard and slammed on the brakes, causing the car to jerk. At the exact same time, he and Te’Qui snatched the ski-mask from off their faces and drew their bangaz. They pointed their guns in one another’s faces. They stared one another down, nostrils flaring and jaws clenched.
“You helped that lil’ nigga escape the house, didn’t chu?” T.J. questioned him, but he didn’t answer. “Didn’t chu, you soft-ass nigga?”
“I told you, I ain’t down for splashin’ no kids!”
“That lil’nigga saw my face!”
“Ain’t nobody tell yo’ dumbass to take off yo’ mask!”
“Nigga, his momma said who I was before I took my shit off!”
“I don’t give a fuck, Blood! I ain’t down with killin’ no babies!”
“Fuck all this talking! Are we dying tonight or what’s up?” T.J. asked. He didn’t give a mad ass fuck if he lived or died as long as he was buried a mothafucking G.
Slowly, Te’Qui took his gun from out of T.J.’s face and T.J. did the same.
“After we dump this G-ride, slide me to the house, Blood, I’m cool on you.” Te’Qui turned around in his seat. He pulled up the sleeve of his sweatshirt and checked his wound. Seeing how deep it was, he was definitely going to need stitches.
T.J. put the car in drive and peeled off.
After discarding the guns used in the home invasion, T.J. and Te’Qui dumped the getaway car and set that bitch ablaze. They then hopped into another whip and drove to Te’Qui’s crib. As soon as they pulled up in the front of the young nigga’z house, Te’Qui jumped out of the car and leaned down inside of the passenger window.
“Yo’, limme park so I can come in and we can bust that money down the middle.” T.J. told him. He was referring to the block of money in plastic that he’d taken from Boo’s house, along with the twenty gees he’d grabbed from Drama’s stash.
“Nah,” Te’Qui shook his head. “That’s all you, bro. We straight. But check this out, my nig. This will be our last time seeing each other. I don’t wanna have shit to do witchu from now on. Don’t call or text me for shit. I don’t give a fuck what it’s about, you feel me? If you slide by the crib, I’ma assume its ‘cause you want smoke and I’ma try to knock yo’ head off. You got that?”
T.J. stared at Te’Qui for a moment. Then, he busted up laughing at him, bowing his head and pounding his fist against the steering wheel like shit was hilarious. He brought his head back up and looked at Te’Qui, clapping his hands. “My nigga, you be acting like you the only gangsta in these streets.
You seen how I give it up. I don’t give a fuck about nobody, including myself. If I truly felt that chu was a threat, I wouldn’t hesitate to take you, yo’ baby momma or yo’ unborn seed out.” he made his hand into the shape of a gun and pointed it at him. He then lowered his hand and said, “You good though, dawg. I prefer to do my thang solo. I never was one for the sidekick thang, so you good. I’m out.” T.J. drove off and left Te’Qui behind in the street. “Ol’ bitch-ass nigga, who the fuck do he think he is? I don’t need that nigga! I’ve been putting in work by myself! Mothafucka better ask somebody!” T.J. glanced down at the floor on the passenger side and saw Te’Qui’s cell phone. His forehead creased with lines as he quickly picked it up. He didn’t need a code to unlock the device so all of Te’Qui’s information was at his disposal. A wicked smile spread across T.J.’s face as an evil plan formed in his mind.
***
Drama stood before his full length body mirror modeling the white on white Armani suit he was dressed in. He turned from side to side as he adjusted his cufflinks. He was fresh to death for the night’s occasion, which was an All White party at some big time record executive’s mansion, in Beverly Hills. Drama stopped moving and took a real good look at his reflection, smoothing out the slight wrinkles in his suit. He looked like one million dollars in all one-hundred dollar bills, but there were a couple of accessories missing that would make his fit complete. Realizing what those accessories were, he snapped his fingers and walked over to the dresser. He pulled open his top dresser drawer and picked up a white bandana, tying it around his bald dome, Tupac Shakur style. Afterwards, he pushed the drawer shut and picked up a pair of shades.
The lenses of the shades were jet black and the arms of them were braided and gold. He slipped them bitchez on and then snapped on a matching bracelet, which was covered in diamonds. On that same wrist, he snapped on a Rolex watch which was flooded with diamonds also. He put a pinky ring on the pinky finger of that same hand that was dripping in ice. When it came to his other wrist he put on two Cuban link bracelets that were different in size and two gold and diamond rings. To top things off, he slipped on his hood famous gold chain which bared his name, Drama. Once the lights in the ceiling hit the piece, the diamonds in that mothafucka started dancing.
“Meka, you almost ready to go?” Drama called out to his date for the night as he scanned his collection of colognes posted together on the top of his dresser. Finding his Versace cologne, he picked it up and sprayed his neck and wrists. Still holding the bottle of the expensive ass cologne, he rubbed his wrists together and sat the bottle back down where he’d picked it up from.
Just then, Meka strolled into the bedroom in a white dress that looked exactly like the one that Marilyn Monroe wore. Meka was a shapely chick with huge tits and an enormous ass. She had an almond complexion and slanted eyes like a Korean. She wore her hair short and curly. There were pearls around her neck and wrist and she was toting a white leather hand bag. Meka was a knock out; easily the most attractive woman that Drama had fucked with, which is why she was attending the mansion party with him.
“Am I ready? How about I let chu be the judge?” Meka smiled and opened her arms, spinning around in a circle like an ice skater. When she completed her three-hundred and sixty degree spin, her eyes landed on a smiling Drama. He approached her wrapping his arms around her and kissing her on the lips. Once he pulled back, she found him gazing deep into her light brown eyes. “Well?” she said, waiting to hear his response to her appearance.
“Oh, you sho’ ‘nough a certified dime, limme take another look at chu.” He took her by the hand and slowly spun her around, taking a good look at her. He obliged her with his eyes as he bit down on his bottom lip, taking her in from head to toe. Meka definitely had it going on. She was all of that and a bag a chips. “Mmmmmm.” He rubbed his hands together naughtily as he thought about all of the freaky shit he was going to do to her once they got back from the mansion party.
Right then, Drama’s cellular rung and took his mind off of Meka. He picked his cell phone up from the dresser and looked at its screen. It was the chauffeur. He’d hired someone to drive him and his date to the party in the latest Maybach. At first he thought it was Boo’s ass banging his line, trying to convince him to come chill with her and their son that night. He’d already told her that he was on company business, but he knew that she didn’t give a fuck. The bitch was jealous and possessive and always wanted her way. He hated that shit about her.
Truthfully, Drama was tired of Boo. Sure she had some bomb ass pussy and a head game that was out of this world, but sex was all she had to offer a nigga. Boo was the typical hoodrat, as far as he was concerned. It didn’t matter much to him that he had a kid with her. In Drama’s mind it was fuck that little nigga and his momma. The only reason why Cordary was born in the first place was because Boo’s trifling ass poked a hole in his condom before she’d put it on him the night they’d fucked. Boo had fucked around and told him that shit one night when they’d gotten drunk and high. The bitch was laughing about it like it was the funniest thing in the world and he wanted to strangle her ass. The only reason he didn’t was because she told him about a lick she’d setup with T.J. once he’d come home. She aided Drama in jacking T.J. and he decided to keep fucking with her to see what else she may have to offer.
“Alright. We’ll be out there in a second,” Drama told the chauffeur before disconnecting the call and stashing the cellular inside of his suit.
“Who was that, baby?” Meka asked him.
“The driver; he’s waiting for us out...” Drama’s faced balled up and he clenched his teeth, clutching the left side of his chest. He stumbled backwards and Meka rushed to his side, catching him before he could fall to the floor.
“Baby, what’s the matter?” Meka asked with a worried expression across her face.
“I’m-I’m okay. Just gotta lil’ chest pain. I’ll be fine though.” He assured her as he stood upright and took a deep breath.
“You’ve been running the streets the past forty-eight hours. You haven’t gotten an hour of sleep. That’s not good for a man your age. You need to rest.” She told him. “I’ll tell you what, let’s just blow off the party and-”
A frowned up Drama snatched away from her and said, “Fuck you mean a man my age? You tryna say I’m old?”
“No. I’m just saying that-”
He placed his finger against her lips. “As of now, you not saying a goddamn thang. As of now, we leaving this house to go to this mansion party in that expensive ass car parked outside my house. Is that understood?” he asked as he looked her dead in her eyes. She nodded yes. “Good. Now let’s go.”
Drama placed his hand at Meka’s lower back and ushered her out of the bedroom.
***
The address that Boo had given T.J. had checked out. He found himself parked outside Drama’s gated community waiting for him to come out for the past two hours.
“Here this old nigga go right now.” T.J. said as he stared out of his night vision binoculars through the windshield. He’d just clocked Drama walking out of his house with Meka’s fine ass. They were walking towards a Maybach which was parked curbside outside of the house. The chauffeur of the luxurious vehicle hopped out and jogged over to the opposite side of the car to open the back door.
Shits crazy! The nigga smashing my bitch is the uncle of Big Will, the CEO of Hood Rich records. Small world! But it’s about to getta hell of a lot bigga once I squash this faggot-ass nigga!
T.J. grabbed his AK-47 with the pistol grip from off the backseat. He checked its banana clip to see if it was fully loaded. It was, so he reloaded it and cocked that bitch back. He then put a neoprene mask over his face and pulled the drawstrings of his hood, closing it around his head.
T.J. focused his attention back on the windshield and saw something that garnered his interest. He picked up his binoculars and looked through them. Through them he saw Drama lying on the ground outside of the Maybach with the chauffeur and Meka, who was on her cellular, looking worried at his side.
“Hello? Yes, it’s my boyfriend! I think he’s having a heart attack!” T.J. overheard Meka speaking into her cell phone.
“This old ass nigga having a goddamn heart attack!” Te’Qui slammed the binoculars to the floor. He then started punching on the dashboard, furiously. Having grown tired, he stopped and breathed heavily, staring out of the windshield. Right then, he heard the ambulance siren drawing closer and closer. Before he knew it, the emergency vehicle was speeding down the street and turning into the opening gates of the community. By this time there was a horde of people posted up outside. They stood out there watching as Drama was loaded inside of the ambulance and whisked away. “Fuck that! I ain’t letting this bitch-ass nigga get away.”
As soon as the ambulance made a right turn out of the gates of the mansion, T.J. fired up his G-ride and went after it. He sped up behind the ambulance, eventually pulling up beside it. T.J. let the front passenger window down and stuck his AK-47 out of it. As soon as the driver of the emergency vehicle saw the choppa, his eyeballs nearly popped out of his sockets and he swerved from out of the way of it. Stuck in his pose, still aiming his choppa at the driver, T.J. pulled the trigger. Fire spat out of the deadly end of the assault rifle, shattering the driver’s window of the ambulance and splattering the driver’s brain fragments against the windshield and dashboard. The ambulance swerved out of control, cutting through several lanes before slamming into a light post and curling it downward.
T.J. stopped the G-ride beside the ambulance and hopped out, running over to the ambulance. He snatched the driver’s door of the ambulance open and found the driver slumped over into the passenger seat. After confirming his kill, he popped the double back doors open. The emergency vehicle’s siren was still blaring as T.J. ran to the back of it. He opened the double doors of the ambulance and found the other E.M.T dazed and holding the side of his head. A terrified Meka was right beside him. Drama was stretched out on the gurney with an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth.
T.J. pointed his AK-47 at the E.M.T. When the E.M.T saw the hollow barrel of that act-right, AK-47, pointed in his face, his eyes bulged and he threw up his pink hands, begging for his life. “No, please, I-”
Blatat!
T.J. splattered the top of the E.M.T’s dome, splashing his bloody, gooey flesh and brain fragments against the interior of the van. He then shot Meka in her mouth as she screamed and then her dome. She slumped against the inside of the ambulance. Climbing inside of the van, T.J. walked over to the E.M.T and sprayed his chest, dotting Drama’s face and lower half with his blood. The old thug squeezed his eyelids shut and turned his head as the blood hit his face.
T.J. turned his attention to Drama after observing the work he’d just put in on the helpless E.M.T and Meka. “What’s popping, Blood?” Drama didn’t say a damn thang, he just stared up at T.J wondering if he was going to murder his ass or not. “You remember me, old head?” he asked him and pulled the neoprene mask from off his face, revealing his identity. “I got all the money and the work back y’all punk-asses jacked me for! But the way I see it, I ain’t paid in full ‘til yo’ life is mine.”
Drama mad dogged T.J. and took the oxygen mask from off his face, shouting out, “Fuck you! Kill me! Kill me, you bitch-ass nigga! I ain’t scared to die!”
“I respect yo’ G!” A scowling T.J. spayed that ass with automatic gunfire and made him do a quick dance. Drama’s blood saturated his button-down shirt and some of it dotted the machinery and other stuff inside of the ambulance. “Hoe-ass nigga!” T.J. kicked him in his head and put the neoprene mask back on his face. He then took a few pictures of Drama’s dead body with Te’Qui’s cell phone and slid it inside of his pocket. Afterwards, he jumped out of the van and darted over to his getaway car. He fled from the murder scene and left the sound of Twelve’s sirens filling the air behind him.