by De'Kari
The burden of a vanguard is a heavy one and Batman continued to carry it as he drove the Chrysler 200 down Main St. disguised as a sixty-three-year-old man with old run-down clothes.
**** N. D. ****
“Thank you for taking me, Daddy.” Little Olivia told her father as she gave him a great big ol’ hug and a kiss.
The two were just getting in from Daddy Daughter Day. Today was Special Agent Finnegan’s day off. One of his rare, but much needed days off. As always, he began every day with his little eight-year-old angel, Olivia. It was their Daddy Daughter Day.
S.A. Finnegan was a lot of things. At the top of the list he was awesome father. His wife of fourteen years passed away giving birth to Olivia. It took him years to get over the loss of his wife. When he did, he decided to just date rather then to get in a serious relationship again. His wife’s death nearly destroyed him. Olivia was the only thing that kept him together. For her, he bounced out of the slump that he was in.
Though he was not quite the ladies’ man, Finnegan neva brought his lady friends around Olivia. Susan was the only woman to come around Olivia. Susan has been little Olivia’s nanny all her life. The three of them were more like family, they were so close.
“Susan! Susan! Guess what me and daddy did!” Olivia bolted through the door, the aroma of roasted lamb chops, wild rice and garlic asparagus wafted to his nose. Just as he began to call out to Susan, his work cell phone began to ring.
Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved it and answered without bothering to look at the caller I.D., “Finnegan.”
“Level 1 crisis, you need to head over to Dublin A.S.A.P.” It was SAC Andreatta. She was neva for the pleasantries, just straight to the topic.
“Do I dare ask what happen?” Finneagan asked as he was heading towards the den, so he could put his personal weapon up and grab his service weapon.
“Our guy struck again and this time he’s made a statement.” Was her response.
“A statement?” Finnegan couldn’t imagine a bigger statement than killing police officers.
“He’s blown up the Dublin Police Department!”
“Garcia and I are already headed to the scene. Get there as soon as you can. Lord knows it’s going to be a circus.”
“I’m on my way!” He couldn’t believe his ears. A police station? These damn assholes were getting more brazed each day.
He rushed into the kitchen to break the news to Susan that he would be missing dinner. Briefly he told her what was going on and asked that she inform Olivia about dinner. She would be crushed, but she understood that her daddy was a Super Hero who fought the bad guys. She was proud of him.
Even with his emergency lights on and driving like a bat out of hell, i still took S.A. Finnegan over an hour to finally reach the crime scene. When he, did the block looked like a disaster relief zone. The surrounding buildings on either side of the police station were halfway blown apart. The station itself was all but decimated. The entire front of the structure was gone, along with two-thirds of the roof. Finnegan noticed pylon markers all over the street. He could only imagine that they were marking body parts.
A nostalgic feeling rushed over him as he finally found somewhere to park and made his way to find Andreatta and Garcia. At five foot six, fair skin and natural reddish hair, Finnegan looked more like a movie star with his boyish looks, than a police officer. Surely, he didn’t resemble an officer of the Federal Bureau of Investigations. He was normally stopped and harassed at crime scenes when he tried to enter. Everyone was so busy today, no-one paid him too much attention. The badge handing on his neck that everyone saw at a glance was good enough for them.
Garcia and Andreatta were found in what used to be the lobby, talking to one of the bomb experts and the head forensic analyst. Noticing their gear Finnegan quickly backed out of the area. Whenever you saw the chemical suites and one-way breathing masks, he knew to back the fuck up quick and asked no questions.
Fifty feet back, he figured would be a safe distance considering there was no wind blowing. For safe measure he backed up ten more feet. Looking around he felt like he had teleported to the remains of a warzone. Finnegan was lost in his thoughts for seven or eight minutes before Andreatta and Garcia came walking over in his direction.
She took the breathing mask off her face and let out a nice, “Wheew!” Even in a full containment chem suit she looked sexy.
“What do we got Big Dawg?” Finnegan was looking for the specifics not the logistics.
“A real shit storm! That’s what we got.” She scratched the top of her head wondering where to begin.
“You can say that again.” Garcia came to the Bureau after the Marine Corps. He had seen action overseas, so he was used to destruction. He just wasn’t used to seeing it at home.
“For starters we have what you could only be some type of explosive component. Probably a portable bomb either on a timer or a remote detonator of some kind. Problem is, given the circumference of the blast radius, the explosive guys are wondering if we have some type of mutant bomb. Which I just learned means when you have a bomb made of separate components and ingredients, like C-4 and nitro mixed together.
“Unfortunately, we don’t have any survivors. So far, the body count is at 94, but it is expected to continue to rise. The son of a bitch set the explosive right in the middle of shift change. That means we could be potentially looking at the death of nearly two hundred plus officers. Any surveillance we may have had in the area was destroyed in the blast. But, considering this is Dublin , there weren’t many surveillance cameras to begin with. The only thing that they have somewhat of an idea on at the moment is a general location of where the devise was set off at. It appears to be off to the left of the Desk Sergeants desk. The specs on the building shows some type of storage closet there.
All things considered, the agency is coming to handle the investigation. I don’t know who’s getting assigned just yet, but no matter, we will work our own independent investigation since this is tied to our other investigation…” She was cut off by a young agent running up to them.
“Special Agent Andreatta, Deputy Director Mota is on the phone for you.” The young agent whose name was Purtle was out of breath from running a full block with the cell phone.
Andreatta took the cell phone from her, spoke for a minute and did a lot of listening. Afterwards, she hung up the phone. Passed it back to Purtle and concluded.
“The Deputy Director has just informed me that the SSU Department may have something for us. Also, one of his contacts inside of the White House got in touch with him and told him that the President was notified of the situation and maybe taking a vested interest in what’s going on.” They all knew what it would mean to have the President shed national attention on what was going on. It would really be Ringling Brothers and Barnum and Bailey. So much bureaucratic red tape would be drawn anyone could potentially be arrested just so the President could say that law enforcement did its job.
“Until then, what do you want us to do?” Garcia already knew the answer. He just wanted to get the ball rolling.
“Do what you do. Just do it quicker.” Andreatta chuckled when she said it but caught the undertone. If this turned into a circus it would be hell.
**** N. D. ****
(Stanford Hospital)
“In truth Ms. Juniel, there would be virtually no harm in reversing the procedure at this point. Our initial concern was the body’s response to the overwhelming amount of damage and stress brought on by your brothers’ injuries. Simply put, had we left him conscious right after the surgery, there was a chance that his body would’ve gone into shock which would have caused his body to shut down. Thereby, further damaging and destroying his organs.”
French Tip fully understood everything that Dr. Butler was telling her. She wanted to make sure that she didn’t miss a thing.
“The time that he has been comatose has been quite long enough to allow both his external as well as his internal
body parts to heal extensively. He should be fine.”
“Thank you, Dr. Butler. I just want to make sure that I’m not selfishly causing my brother more harm. But doctor, I desperately need my brother.” Dr. Butler could tell that the poor young lady had the world on her pretty little shoulders, “If you would like I could start the procedure immediately.” He hoped that would take some of her ills away.
“Please do. And doctor, how long does the process take?” She hoped it wouldn’t be long.
“Well, I can start the procedure now. In a couple of hours he will be woke and able to communicate slowly. It will take a few more hours before all systems are functioning accordingly for him to have pertinent or drawn out discussions. The body will gradually wake itself up a little slower, but let’s say forty-eight to seventy-eight hours he should be up and running.” The smile that came across her face made the doctor feel good. The hug and kiss on the cheek was an added bonus.
“Thank you, Doctor.” French Tip needed her brother. Things were getting out of hand. She knew only he could bring an end to all the madness. At least she hoped so.
She walked over to Chief Vieira to fill her in. The two had such a long conversation after the Chief called her telling her that they needed to talk. She confirmed everything that Lt. Urena told Gunz and added a few more details. Their conversations told French Tip two things. First, she knew without a doubt that Vieira indeed was in love with her brother and wasn’t beyond breaking the law and bending the rules for him. The second thing that the conversation told her was that there was no room for debate or wasted time. She needed to have Dr. Butler wake up Voorheeze.
Due to everything that was going on French Tip removed all of her brothers’ details and replaced them with she-wolves. The only person other then a she-wolf was D.J. Even more then she trusted her own girls, she trusted D.J. Dwayne would neva allow anything to happen to her brother. Unbeknownst to everyone DJ had always been silent security for Voorheeze.
Ever since Gunz and Voorheeze had conflict at the War Room when Gunz had the Twinz on a secret detail following the nigga Wendell, who was following Voorheeze and T’Rida.
In the heated argument Gunz had pulled his gun on Voorheeze even though Voorheeze was wrong a threat was a threat, and Voorheeze eliminated all threats!
Gunz was the one and only exception. D.J. was dispatched as a weapon of espionage to gather information and seek a weak link Voorheeze could use if the situation ever arose that he would have to eliminate Gunz.
No-one would know of her decision not even her own mother. There was no telling how things would play out and her mother talked too much. She couldn't help thinking that it shouldn't be this way. A tear nearly fell from her eye until she thought about the threat that Clark had made. She hoped that nigga wouldn't force her hand because he'd fuck around and find out the hard way that she didn't give a fuck about him being her oldest brother. She would knock his punk ass down.
****
Vieira told French Tip that she didn't care if everything she had heard about her brother was true, she would be willing to help him beat any charges he may receive or give him enough information to avoid capture. She loved him and would do whatever she could to help.
She'd gone long enough without happiness. Her first marriage was a failure. She was married to a Sheriff's Deputy in San Mateo County. Back then, it was just a paycheck. She’d looked forward to coming home to her husband everyday. After her divorce she gave all her time and energy to her career. She dreaded going home to an empty and lonely house. Still she wasn't desperate, she wasn't out looking for a man that night at Whole Foods when she met Voorheeze. But, it was the best thing that ever happened to her. The entire night had been magical.
From the beginning there was something about him that sent electricity through her body. The sex was phenomenal, but it was more than that. It was all of him. Vieira saw the softer side of him. The side that most neva saw. The hurt and pain, the things he refused to acknowledge but couldn’t get over. All the things that he thought made him weak, made her want him even more. She was totally head over heels for Voorheeze.
****
As French Tip went about giving her orders, no doubt to people more dangerous than Vieira could ever imagine, the police Chief couldn’t help but admire the young fierce leader. She was beautiful beyond belief with her midnight chocolate rich skin, and her high cheek bones. Both of which complimented her voluptuous body. Although she didn’t hide her beauty, she used her strong mind and her courageous heart to obtain the things that she wanted. The Chief could tell that about her.
French Tip made sure to pass strict instructions to everyone. They were to be followed to the tee! No one was to know that Voorheeze was waking up, point blank period. Only Vieira was allowed to see him. French Tip was to be notified the moment he woke up.
After giving out her directives, she walked out. French Tip had work to do.
Chapter XIX
(Oakland)
A person would have to be blind to miss DeeDee. Standing six-foot-seven with dreadlocks that hung all the way down to his mid-section on a frame that held up two-hundred and thirty-pounds, DeeDee could neva blend in with any crowd, less it was a crowd of black dreadlock wearing giants. Having people gawk at him was something he had gotten used to a long time ago.
The little old church ladies in their seventies, had probably neva seen anyone the likes of DeeDee before. His long dreadlocks were almost as tall as them. He smiled as he pictured holding one of his Issy Miyachi smelling up next to one of the little old ladies. The tallest in the group couldn’t be any taller than five feet.
DeeDee couldn’t wait to get his food, so he could get home and sink his teeth into the fried pork chops, macaroni and cheese, collard greens, yams and cornbread. Hands down Souls was the best food in Oakland. Not to mention the sweet tea that would make a nigga run three miles just to be thirsty enough to drink a gallon of it.
DeeDee didn’t believe in God, but if some imaginary, white mothafucka in the sky got people cooking this damn good then he believed that was alright by him.
“Here’s your order sweetheart.” The little chocolate cutie pie that brought his food was breath taking.
She had the sexiest set of eyes that were locked-in on him. She held the bags as he looked over a body that belonged on a stripper pole. Although her smile got brighter as he looked her up and down, DeeDee reminded himself that she was in love with God and he wasn’t tryna fuck with that.
Souls was owned by Acts Full Gospel Church and its employees were members of the church.
“I’m everything you learned in church to stay away from.” DeeDee figured there was no reason to beat around the bush.
He knew the lifestyle he lived put him on Gods’ shit list. A good nutt wasn’t a good reason to put a good soul on that same list.
“Jesus said he came to save the lost for the righteous already knew the way.” She wasn’t trying to hear that mess he was talking. She couldn’t help from thinking he had to have a big ass dick, as huge as he was.
DeeDee heard her talking that good Christian talk, but her body language was talking that R. Kelly, 2 Live Crew shit.
“You might get lost yourself tryna help me find the way. I’m telling you, lil mama, the Devil gone cheer when I finally get there.” He grabbed the bags out of her hands and bit his lower lip.
The little old bats were making all kinds of grunts and smirks under their breaths. They couldn’t believe the hatemongering going on so blatantly out in the open for all to witness.
“Even the Devil once graced the gates of Heaven. If he got a pass, I’m sure you can be given a break. Besides,” she stepped close enough for him to smell the Dolce Gabbana perfume that she was wearing as she did her best to stare into his eyes “there’s no need to play games, I am a grown woman. I already put my number in the bag. It’ll be your loss if you don’t use it.” When she turned and walked away, DeeDee saw how big her ass was and told himself “white Jesus
could get it too if he gets in the way of me getting this.”
“Lord have mercy! I’ve neva in all my life seen the likes of that.” One of the little old bats called out.
DeeDee turned to leave and looked at the one that just made the comment, “you can say that again, sistah. I’ll make sure to get a good enough look for the both of us.” He burst out laughing as he walked through the door.
He jumped in the Benz and made sure to sit the bag on top of the mat that he had on the passenger side floor. The pearl paint job by far wasn’t the only thing that made his Benz the cleanest whip in Oakland. The ostrich skin seats and crocodile steering wheel played their parts along with the Persian carpet that sat on top of warming pads. He had a feature that made Vanilla Hazelnut come out of the air vents.
Once the food was properly secure, he turned on the car and left the parking lot. Turning right ,he was thinking just how good it was going to feel bending her over and fucking the shit out of that holy pussy. When he got to the stop sign, he decided to dig the paper with the number written on it out. He didn’t want the grease from the food to get on the pater and cause the ink to bleed.
The pork chops were smelling too good. He couldn’t resist stealing a bite off of one. Melissa told him he wouldn’t be able to get back to the house without messing with the food. Oh well! That shit was good. He was about to steal another bite, but a car honking its horn spoiled that.
He lifted back up from the bag and was getting ready to make his turn when
BOCA! BOCA! BOCA!
The drivers side window shattered. DeeDee didn’t waste no fucking time! He put the pedal to the metal and got the fuck up outta there.
A silver Hyundai Sonata had pulled up on his driver’s side and a nigga on the passenger side of the Sonata thought he was one of the Dukes of Hazard. He was hanging so far out of the window he was practically touching DeeDee. It’s a wonder how he missed him.