by De'Kari
Immediately he opened-up with an M-16 mowing down everything in his path ,beginning with Manny Blac. The remaining three niggaz began returning fire as best they could. The speed in which the 223’s where flying thru the air was shutting that shit down.
The niggaz were so busy focusing on the nigga in the fatigues that they didn’t hear the Porsche pull up or see Rell jump out of it with a subcompact Chinese AK-47. When he opened fire, it was like shooting crabs in a bucket.
While that was going on Mtambo walked to the back of the Caravan to retrieve a black canvas Coleman camping carrying bag.
“The call just went out over the wire. Normal units responding, however, we have a bogey less than one minute away coming from the south east.” Mtambo heard Cuana’s report come through his earpiece, but he was not worried about it. He had one hundred percent faith in his Usalama Squad.
Carrying the canvas bag, he made his way to the front door. Reaching the door, he was able to kick it in with one mighty thrust from his size sixteen Steele toe boots. At six foot six, two hundred and ninety-two pounds of muscle, Mtambo was strong as an ox. Inside the house, he unzipped the canvas bag and removed three incendiary devices which he quickly placed throughout the house.
Scooter and Rell both took up positions outside in front of the house keeping Usalama (security). Standing in a crouched position they resembled two delta force sentries with their black fatigues and M-16’s.
“Bogey has just entered the hot-zone. Initiating contact and neutralization.” Kipaka’s soft voice sounded metallic as it crackled over the earpieces.
She was positioned on top of a roof on the west side of the 1100 block of Jervis. The house was on the corner which gave her a clear view down Bay Rd. The black and white Dodge Charger came racing up 1100 block of Laurel Ave. It’s flashing lights and loud siren’s inconsiderately disturbing the night’s dark peace.
The 5K high power clear resolution scope gave Kipaka a crystal-clear view of the bourgeois
middle class African American who was dead set in a rush to save the day and continue making a name for himself on the Police Force,
Officer Johnson was just coming out of the parking lot of Oakwood Market when the call of multiple shots fired came out over the radio. Unbeknownst to any of his colleagues on the force, Officer Johnson abused the authority of the badge every chance he got. He thought he was better than the low-life, ghetto, welfare niggaz that were from the run-down city. He got his rocks off by making the known prostitutes in the city preform sexual favors whenever he got the urge, or he would run them in on as many charges as he could make up.
As Officer Johnson made it to the intersection of Laurel Ave. and Bay Road, he paused briefly while he turned his head to the right to check on-coming traffic. When he turned to the left a sound like an icepick striking ice was made but Johnson neva heard the sound.
The mini projectile missel that Kipaka sent from her high-powered rifle burrowed into his bootlicking, ass head causing it to explode like a watermelon hit by a baseball bat.
When Johnson’s head exploded his nerves caused the right foot to press down on the gas. With the flashing red lights, the Charger flew across the intersection, jumped the curb and crashed into the house on the northeast side of the corner of Laurel and Bay Rd. The crash caused the siren to make a weird noise before shutting down.
“Bogey neutralized.” Kipaka reported.
“Two more units approaching fast. One coming up Alberni, from the east. The second, Bay Rd from the same direction.” Cuana’s voice was clear and authoritative.
Mtambo was crossing the threshold as Ndege’s voice came across the earpieces, “I got the unit on Alberni.”
Scooter and Rell were a few feet in front of Mtambo as they escorted him to the Caravan. Afterwards, Rell hustled back to the Porsche where Damu was waiting on guard. As one, they both jumped into the Porsche and both vehicles began to drive off.
The incendiary devices planted inside of the house had already gone off and the house was engulfed by the hungry fire flames.
“Ladies move out.” Mtambo ordered.
“There’s still a unit approaching your location.” Kipaka wasn’t disobeying the order, he was reminding the Commander of the fact.
“I’m well aware of that.” He looked at Scooter, a nonverbal command was given. “We’ll dispense of the unit. Everyone move-out and meet back at the spot.”
By the time the Caravan had made it to Bay Rd., Scooter had climbed over the seat into the back row. The all white police Dodge Charger pulled up to the corner at the same time. Mtambo looked over to the officer and smiled.
The white officer knew from instinct that the black mothafucka driving the van was somehow connected to the disturbance. He had been on the force ten years and had learned to follow his instincts. He reached for his radio to call it in when the side door of the Caravan slid open. Instinctively, the officer reached for his service weapon. When the door fully opened and revealed what was behind it, his hand froze right on the weapon.
Just before the bullets went hunting for a target, the white officer shit his pants out of fear. Just as he knew the van was connected, instinctively he knew that he was about to die.
Scooter let off all seventy-five rounds that were in the clip, making sure to only aim at the driver’s side windshield. The carnage that was left was unbelievable.
The amount of blood all over the front interior was proof of the kill. Scooter had been trained for guaranteed results. So, he calmly walked over to the car. After confirming his successful kill, he hustled back to the Caravan and they disappeared into the night while responding officers were zeroing in on the location.
**** N. D. ****
The loud sounds of a female being sexed good were coming out of the back room, down the hallway. She was moaning and screaming so loud it almost sounded like she was being attacked instead of fucked.
The trio made their way silently down the hallway to the back room. There were two other doors in the hallway, which they checked. From experience, they knew not to pass a door without knowing what was on the other side. Each room housed only a small child. They left the kids alone, safe in their beds.
When they got to the back room the first man opened the door. The other two followed the first man into the room. There was a Philippina woman riding the nigga they came for. She was riding him reverse cowgirl. Her eyes were shut tight, so she couldn’t see the three niggaz staring at her massive breast as they knocked all over the place from the force of her bouncing up and down on his dick.
She grabbed one of her giant breasts, put it in her mouth and sucked on it. Then she started bouncing up and down even faster, they just watched. The two were waiting on a que from the first and he was patiently anticipating his next move in his head.
Finally, she climaxed, but she continued riding him until she opened her eyes and saw the intruders for the first time. She let out a scream until the first man pointed a big ass gun at her.
At the sound of her scream, Tut was startled and opened his eyes. The pussy was so good it made a mothafucka close his eyes and savor that shit. At the sight of the intruders, he realized that he’d fucked up. All he could think about was his babies. Considering Gunz and them didn’t bother covering their faces, he knew his babies were dead and he was about to die.
Tut weighed his chances in his head. He knew against three niggaz he didn’t stand a chance. He would’ve tried his luck against one mothafucka, but against three it was suicide. Finally, he figured he was going to die anyway so fuck it!
“I see you looking like you’re getting ready to try something stupid. Before you do, let me talk to you.” Gunz walked over to the left side of the bed so he could have a better view of Tuts hands.
“For what was done to mine, you’re a dead man, no questions asked. But, you’ve got a chance to save your kids and ol’ girl.” Dok pointed at the woman still on top of Tut cowering away, silently crying.
“Be a man and f
ace what you got coming. Get dressed and let’s go. If you try some dumb shit, all of you are dying.”
Tut had neva been the type of nigga to let somebody bitch him out or punk him, hearing that his sons were alive changed everything. He would gladly trade his life for theirs in a heartbeat! He didn’t hesitate to tell his baby mama to get off of him.
While she sniffled and cried A.J., Big Rocc and Gunz all watched Tut get dressed. It had been Big Rocc that tracked him down. When Tut was finally fully dressed the reality of the situation smacked his baby mama in the face like a back hand from a pimp.
She jumped up letting the covers drop from her naked body. She didn’t think about her exposure. She loved her baby daddy. Yeah, they fought and had their issues, but she loved him and couldn’t accept losing him for good. No matter how much she held him and cried, it wasn’t going to change anything and Tut knew it.
He gave her one long, deep kiss “Babe, I gotta go. I love you. We knew nothing lasts forever, so it is what it is.” He wiped the tears off of her cheeks. “You know where the money at, so you and the boys gone be straight…”
“I don’t want the money.” She cried while shaking her head defiantly from side to side.
“I know…shh…I gotta go, blood.” He kissed her one more time then pulled away. He headed towards the door. AJ was the first one out the room followed by Tut.
“What if she calls the police?” Big Rocc asked Gunz.
“Fuck the police! Let her call ‘em.” Gunz followed Tut out of the room and down the hallway.
They left Tuts kids sleep and his baby mama naked, crying miserably on the floor of the bedroom as they drove off.
**** N. D. ****
Fremont
Cantelope knew she was hearing shit. She hit the blunt again doing her best to try and digest the shit she was just told. Fresh off a flight from Tennessee she had just walked in the house when she received a call from French Tip telling her that she was on her way over.
When she got there, French Tip quickly filled Cantelope in on what was going on. After her confrontation with Clark, French Tip went and had a sit down with Dok where she learned everything.
“I’m not going to even lie to you, Frenchie, that’s some real messed up shit” as she blew that smoke out she shook her head, “I can’t tell you what to do on this one, cousin. But, no matter what you choose to do I’m rocking with you one hundred percent.”
“Thanks girl. But that really ain’t saying shit cause I don’t know what the fuck I’m gone do.” French Tip was just grateful that her cousin was there to listen to her. Since they were kids they had always been there for each other.
French Tip leaned over to ash her blunt inside the ash tray. It had been a while since she had smoked and this new shit Cantelope had wasn’t no punk.
“Guuurl, I’m higher than a crack head on the first of the month.” Cantelope burst out laughing at her cousin. “What the hell did you say this was?” French Tip felt like she wanted to fall down and float away.
“This that real white bitch, nigga! That Wonder Woman. I got some other shit too called Aurora Indica, it’s smooth as hell and taste sweet.” Cantelope wasn’t in no mellow mood though. After what her cousin just told her, she was trying to take it there!
If nobody got a handle on this shit fast, it could potentially blow up big enough to destroy them all, one way or another.
“If it means anything, you know I’ma die hard loyalist. Neva Die is our family, but shit Clark is my Family! Flesh of my flesh and blood of my blood! I ain’t trynna rock against that really. And you know the She-Wolves are loyal to us. They move how we move.” French Tip already knew all of this, but hearing it made her feel so much better. She looked up to her big cousin tremendously and needed to know that she would have her back.
“What’s your take on Nissa finding God?” French Tip tried to lighten the mood with the change of subject.
“I mean, hell, living the way we live, a mothafucka gotta find something eventually, either Heaven or Hell. Shit might as well be heaven. But, fuck that! What about her being with Pastor Juan? He’s the one got her needing Jesus. Little, pretty mothafucka, must got that Holy Dick!” As French Tip erupted in laughter, Cantelope jumped up imitating one of the old ladies in church “Jesus! Oh! Jesus!” Her arms were spread out at sides with her head tilted backwards while she hooped and hollered.
The ringing of French Tip’s cell phone spoiled the party. She dug the phone out of her MK bag and checked the caller id. Cantelope was still doing her antics when French Tip answered her cell. The laughter felt good.
All the laughter ceased, and her chocolate skin got darker as her face turned to stone. Cantelope saw the serious look on her face and instantly grew concerned.
Lady J was on the phone telling French Tip what just happened in East Palo Alto not too long ago.
“Hurry up, turn on the news!” She yelled at Cantelope while still listening to Lady J.
“Which one?” Cantelope rushed over to the island counter that the remote was sitting on.
“It don’t matter.” French Tip ended her call and waited eagerly for her cousin to get the news on. “We might be too late.” Was all she said.
Finally, she found the correct channel and hey both watched the carnage from the mayhem in shocked silence. The segment was a full eleven minutes long. When it was over French Tip looked like she just walked in on her nigga fucking her best friend.
“What type of mothafuckas are we dealing with?” From the news report and what she saw. Cantelope knew these mothafuckas were on some next level, Black Ops type shit.
“I don’t know, but the shit just hit the fan.” French Tip leaned back and lit the half of blunt that had gone out.
Tomorrow would be a nightmare, but tonight she would enjoy what was left of her peace. Or at least that’s what she thought.
**** N. D. ****
Earlier that day
The meeting was being convened in the conference room at the Federal Building in Downtown Oakland. The only people present in the room were those already in the loop and those who needed to know.
The meeting had been called to address the current crisis and wave of violence that has plagued the Bay Area. Chief Vieira of the Milpitas Police Department sat at the six o’clock position of the table. To her left was Special Agent Finnegan and sitting beside him was Agent Garcia. On the right side of Chief Vieira sat officer Hedgecock and Special Services Unit or SSU Lieutenant Wynn.
Special Agent in Charge Andreatta sat at the head of the table. Everyone was tired. Individually they all had been working very hard around the clock to try and find some type of lead that would bring an end to the chaos. Tired as they were ,this was the job and they’d all signed up for it. What they didn’t know was things were only beginning.
Special Agent in charge Andreatta slowly stood up to address the room.
“Everyone knows why we are here, so I’ll skip the formalities and get right to the heart of the problem. Approximately eight months ago law enforcement officers and personnel either started coming up missing or were murdered. Chief Vieira’s department is credited for the diligence that ultimately paid off in providing us with the identity of the suspect.”
“We now know that a one, Levell Benjamin Jenkins aka Batman is the primary suspect in the disappearances and homicides. A joint effort on behalf of Chief Vieira’s department as well as our own, to bring him in, unfortunately resulted in a failed attempt at bringing the suspect to justice. Our efforts will not be in vain. We will get our man. The bureau is working on leads that will give us the suspects current location. Briefing on that will commence immediately following this meeting.” She used this break in her briefing to take a drink from the Voss water she had sitting on the table.
Chief Vieira sat patiently waiting for the ball to drop. She was already well aware of everything that had just been said because it was her guys who had made all the process. There had to be more or something new in the c
ase for her to be present. Patiently waiting through all the jibber-jabber was easy for her because her mind was half on La’Mont.
She hadn’t even realized that she had dazed off in thought, until Agent Andreatta begin talking again.
“Shortly after our original events, Officer Hedgecock you somehow found your way with front row seats to a shoot out involving two rival gangs. An up and coming gang, calling themselves Young Nigga Mafia waged war on the reigning power, the Neva Die Dragon Gang. Sometime before our shoot out, your police work put you right smack in the middle of the shoot out.
Not only did it land you in the shoot out but unbeknownst to you, you stumbled across an open FBI and SSU investigation. It was the bureau that convinced Lead District Attorney to drop the murder charges against La’Mont Simpson in the interest of justice.” Chief Vieira was surprised to hear this but she neva let on.
“This brings us to our next guest whom I’m sure you are all interested in. Ladies and gentlemen, I turn the floor over to Special Security Unit’s Lieutenant Christine Wynn.” Special Agent in charge Adreatta took her seat.
“Thank you, SSA Andreatta. Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sure that most if not all of you have neva heard of the SSU. So, I’ll open by telling you just what SSU is.”
“The Special Services Unit or SSU is a federal liaison unit of the California Department of Corrections. It was created in the seventies as a means and way to counter the criminal activities of the prison gangs and organizations. Over the years there have been numerous gangs created on the yards of California’s prisons. However, one group in particular grew and evolved so much over the years that a great deal of our time and efforts were focused on them.”
“The group in question is the Black Guerilla Family. They began as a group of rough hooligans who pirated the prison yards. They were involved in everything from robbery and extortion to murder for hire. But under the guidance of George Lester Jackson they became educated, motivated and organized. The teachings of Mr. Jackson and a few others gave birth to the New African Revolutionary Nationalist.” Finally, she stood up and walked towards a video projector.