10 months ago
Eight men were all circled up, each looked like they could be octotwins with Michael Vick. A few of the eight men stepped to me as I came to the front door. They all came together, fast, and blocked the way like three big ass black walls.
"What's up?" A body guard spoke.
"Finest, I'm here to see him." I replied. "Names Sryan."
"I'm gon' need to pat you down."
"Pat me down?" I questioned the big guy. "No, no men touch me unless we're fighting."
"Then you ain't coming up here."
"Fine with me." I turned around. "Tell your boss Sryan was here, I won't be returning any calls."
I walked away, I listened to one of them talking on the phone. It was less than a twenty seconds before one of the body guards had ran to me, he caught up with me panting. "I didn't know you was that Sryan."
"How many Sryan's are there?"
"Look, Finest is waiting for your arrival. If you don't comeback I'll lose my job, probably my life too."
I came back, just because I wanted the money from Finest. I didn't care for the guards life and if I was in an asshole mood I would've continued walking away.
Now, all the bodyguards looked afraid and scared. Each of them moved out of my way and let me walk in on my own. Music was bumping, loud enough that Hellen Keller could hear. The room was crowded with people, like a night club. I walked pass another guard who looked like Michael Vick, he regarded me with a glare and I did the same to him. I've killed men bigger and stronger than him, many more times than he's killed men small as me.
I went inside without being patted down or searched as I wanted. But three Michael Vick's followed me inside. They led me to him, as I approached Finest I could see the nervousness in his eyes. Two of his guards pulled back their jackets, revealing their straps. Didn't fear me, not one bit. Must've did that to impress the women dancing.
"Yeah, I'm expecting you." Finest finally spoke.
I looked at all the dozen guards surrounding me. All this security just let me know how paranoid Finest really is. He was engaged in rap beef, that's why I was needed. To cease his fears for the rappers he was beefing with.
"How old are you?" The man who was hiring me, Finest asked.
"Twenty." I answered.
"Sister young or older?"
"Twins."
"Oh really, twin hitmen."
"Many people call us that."
"How many hits have you done?"
"Enough."
"Professional I see."
"Yeah, I'm pretty good." I was losing patience. "Let's get to business now."
I followed Finest through the building. Two guards went out the back door, after they checked out the parking lot they signaled Finest. I followed Finest outside, I've never seen this much paranoia in my life. So much security, so heavily guarded.
His limo was outside parked, all windows were tinted black as midnight. I'd bet a billion dollars that every window was bulletproof. When we got in the limo, his guards stood out with their backs to us. I sat at one end, he sat at the far end.
"You don't talk much do you?" Finest asked.
"Get to business."
"Yeah, okay. My beef with that nigga Prophecy just started not too long ago, he left our record label. That's some bullshit, ya feel me? I made a post on Twitter letting the world know he was a bitch, he made a rap diss and shit. Shots fired back at home, on my fuckin' block."
"Another bonafide rap beef, typical."
"Man, you can call it whatever you wanna. We already two steps ahead in the war, Agostino had the homeboy snatch up his momma. Shit fucked up, we grew up together. His momma use to take us in, but his dumbass chose to ditch Agostino Records for some actress bitch name Castro."
"Castro is a pretty dangerous name."
"Fuck her, soft ass actress bitch."
I coughed, purposely for him to get the point. "So you want me to kill Prophecy?"
"Yeah, but he'll be a hard kill." He said, stopping to think about it. "Man P and I use to rap in the fuckin basement and shit."
I sat silently.
"We fought wars together, shed blood with each other. Committed crimes together, was blood brothers."
Still, I didn't move a muscle. Irritation rose up from my pinky toe to the muscles in my eyeballs.
"That nigga left the label like a bitch!"
I checked my watch.
"Left for some bitch he just met too, at his debut album party! Then he probably fucked the actress bitch and started feeling himself! Left us and dropped his album over some bitch he don't even know man!"
"Finest, either you open the door and left me the fuck out or jump to the fuckin conclusion."
He put in a CD, a voice played. Talking about how they want to take a shit on Finest baby momma and children. Spoke about how he'd piss on them like R. Kelly and walk away like nothing happened. Called Finest and everyone he associates with a bitch, multiple times.
I asked. "Who's that?"
"Angelo, a nigga signed with PGE. The label Prophecy left for."
"Close friend of Prophecy?"
"Grew up with us too."
"Killing people you grew up with."
"That shit scared my daughter, my baby momma."
"Did it scare you Finest?"
He stumbled. "That shit played on a radio station, an interview. Millions of people heard that shit yo, that shit was live man. I'm gone be on the radio tomorrow, I want Angelo ass dead. Fifty large."
"He's not going to be alone, they stay deep. In case of situations like this, Compton felons. All strapped up and war ready."
"One hundred."
"Add twenty-five more bands to that hundred, then we can get to talking."
He was sweating, he was nervous, he was very frightened. He added another fifty, not twenty five. Then told me, he'd add another thirty if I did it in the next twelves hours. He was afraid, was speaking through nerves. I decided to use that against him.
"Just give me half a mil, then you'll have yourself a deal."
"If it's done in the next twelve hours, I'll add another hundred."
Inside, I wanted to smile my ass off and laugh at his stupid ass. But I held that in and nodded instead. Anger, fear, and nervousness had him throwing too much money at me. I was feeling it arise inside me, spreading around like wildfire. The greed inside me made me the demon killer I am.
A body guard tapped on the window, Finest let it down to see what was up. The guards were checking to see if he was alright, as if I silently strangled him back here. While we were finishing things a fine ass woman came to the window, I moved to where I couldn't be seen by her.
He snapped at the girl. "Man, what the fuck?"
"You forgot about me already?"
"Who the hell is you?"
"Last night I danced for you! For an hour and half!" She showed him her ass and tits, shaking her body slowly and smiling while doing it.
"Yeah, okay."
She slapped her own ass. "You sure you remember me?"
"Business major at UCLA right?"
She smiled. "That's me baby."
"Okay, hold tight until I'm done with this meeting."
I said. "When my money is either handed to me, or put into my bank account. I'll take it to the next step."
I got out the car, the big booty female smiled and crawled in replacing me with Finest. I headed out through the front door, I walked a block away from the building to my motorcycle. I put on my helmet and gloves, drove away into the highway. My phone buzzed in my pocket, telling me the transaction went through. The deal was officially sealed, now my mission was to kill Angelo and anyone with him. I've been homeless before, like most in my job. But now I was over a millionaire.
I drove for hours, took an Oakland drive all the way down to Los Angeles. Finest sent me to the street they grew up on, the street Angelo was born and raised and soon to die in as well. I drove into Compton, weapons heavy on me. I searched for the address Finest sent me as Angelo's home. But came across a group of them all wearing red on the porch. Angelo was in the middle, talking to another man. About ten others were out with them. I parked, eyes were on me from the second I pulled in. Voices called out at me, I ignored and walked straight to the porch.
"Aye bike boy where you from?" A man on the porch asked, when I ignored he repeated himself. "I said where you from bike boy?"
"Cuba." I answered. "Born and raised until I escaped at 16, then I grew up in Queens, New York."
He laughed. "Nigga you from Cuba?"
"Yes."
"Take yo defecting ass back to Cuba and get the fuck outta here before yo head get blown off."
"What's your name?"
"Nigga what?"
"What's your name?"
"Vez." He answered.
"Who's Angelo?"
"I am." Another man spoke, he had a bandage under his clothing. I wasn't the first person to attempt to kill him. "Who's asking?"
I pulled both my pistols from my sides, I pulled the trigger over the head of Vez first. Blowing out his brains, then pulled the trigger over six others including Angelo. I hopped off the porch as guns were drawn. I circled to the back and rested my helmet over the bushes as a distraction.
There were ten men total, I shot six on the porch leaving just four left. For sure, one was on the porch helping the wounded. So I'll get back to him later. Another was definitely coming back from one side, another from the other side. I know this for a fact because they saw me run to the back.
I was right, the man who hopped off the porch and called the right side lucked out. I pulled the trigger four times, putting a bullet through his neck, thigh, waist, and lastly his head.
The man who called the left side came into the back yard just in time for the man to come out with him through the back door, the both of them saw my helmet and fell for the decoy.
They both pulled the trigger to their pistols, blowing my helmet away.
I decided it was time to end it, I popped up from my hiding spot. Shooting the last of my bullets inside the clip, killing those two quickly.
I walked over the dead bodies, killing a few more from across the street who waited on me to come back towards the front. They must've came from a different house, but they're just not quick enough with pulling their triggers. There was one left standing unwounded on the porch that I didn't kill, he held Angelo in his arms.
Out of the six men dead on the porch, he held Angelo. He asked me to spare his life, but it was too late to spare anything. He had already seen my face, which meant he had to die. I pointed my pistol at him, pulled the trigger shooting Angelo in the head for a sure kill. Then shifted my pistol to the last young man's head, he had to be about only fifteen years old.
He chose the wrong time and crew to hang with this Sunday morning, should've went to church with his grandmother. I pulled the trigger, watched as his body fell over with the others. A dead pile of bodies on the porch, not one person on the block had called the police. Either that or the police just don't give a fuck. I walked away from the scene, pulled out my phone and texted Finest.
"Done." I sent the message.
"Good, might need you more often." The text replied.