by De'Kari
DeeDee swung the Benz to the left. He pulled away from the Sonata long enough for him to reach over and snatch his 9mm off the passenger seat. It was times like this he thanked his lucky stars that he’d listened to himself and not everybody else. His 9mm had fifty in the dick.
BOC! BOC! BOC!
DeeDee traded shots with the little nigga. He had to let ‘em know that them shits fly both ways.
The Sonata was going back on him. BOCA! BOCA!
DeeDee had to think of something. He was at a complete disadvantage, so the odds were against him.
BOCA! BOCA! BOCA!
He didn’t know who the niggaz was but they weren’t letting up.
Up ahead on the right side, a dope fiend was standing next to a parked car. It looked like she was arguing with the driver. Probably some type of negotiation for some dope. The way she was swinging her hips it was must likely was a sexual favor.
BOCA! BOCA!
The dope fiend let out a loud scream as one of the stray bullets burrowed into her shoulder. She fell forward against the car. People mingling about dropped for cover, pulled their own strap, or got the fuck out of dodge. Shoot outs in Oakland were as common as the pizza delivery man. Actually, on any given Sunday it probably was more common to see a shoot out than it was to see a pizza delivery man.
DeeDee came mere inches away from running the dope fiend over. After falling on the car she flapped to the street hollering bloody murda.
BOC! BOC! BOC! BOC!
After that burst of four, DeeDee risked turning around to take aim and fired three more shots. His first found its mark as he hit the shooter in the arm.
The risky move cost him. When he turned back straight he barely had time to correct. He yanked the steering wheel hard to the left. This stopped him from a head on crash, but he still side-swiped three parked cars. The first car dented in the right fender and cracked the wheel axel.
The right tire was wobbling bad. He either had to slow down or he was going to crash.
BOCA! BOCA!
“Fuck!” DeeDee yelled out. This was fucking great. How was the nigga still able to shoot? He wondered.
BAM!
Focusing on the car and the nigga inside, DeeDee neva saw the Toyota Tacoma coming on the right side. The truck slammed into the front passenger side of the Benz. The force of the crash sent the Benz sideways crashing into a parked car on the street.
DeeDee was fucked. He was pinned up against the parked car on the driver’s side. It prevented him from opening the door. The truck was wrecked up against the passenger side. There was no way for him to get out. He wasn’t neva no bitch nigga. He was a Neva Die Dragon, so he would accept his fate and greet death with both arms. Too bad he neva got the chance to fuck ol’ girl. He burst out laughing. Maybe white Jesus didn’t too much like him saying he could get it too.
The moment that thought entered his mind DeeDee saw Clark walking up to the Benz.
BOC! BOC! BOC! BOC! BOC!
Just because he’d accepted death didn’t mean he was just gonna lay down.
Pedestrians watched in awe, wondering how the scene before them would play out. Silently, some rooted for the niggaz in the silver car. Some wanted the under dog to win. Sadly, some didn’t give a fuck, they just wanted to see somebody get it.
Oddly enough, no-one felt sorry for the nigga in the Benz. In Oakland everyone realized that there aren’t any victims. Even in the worst of situations one would realize the mothafucka did something.
Clark dodged the bullets thrown at him. Methodically, he sent a few of his own shots back at DeeDee while he still advanced.
DeeDee hit the button to open the stash box. He didn’t know how many shots he’d fucked off, but he’d have that other stick ready just in case. He lifted his hand ready to send a few more shots at Clark, who had gotten dangerously close. His arm stopped halfway when DeeDee remembered something.
BOOM!
The pretty, expensive interior that cost more than ten thousand dollars was ruined as DeeDee’s blood and brain matter rained down al over it.
BOOM! BOOM!
DeeDee had made the worst mistake a gangsta could ever make in a gun battle. He forgot about all players. The entire time that DeeDee was focusing on Clark, Man Man had walked around and snuck up on the Benz from the back-passenger side. The truck allowed for the perfect cover for the movement.
Opening up the stash box caused DeeDee to think about where his bullets went, so he could guess how many he had left. That was when he remembered the second shooter. It was just too late.
Clark walked up to the Benz and emptied his clip into DeeDee’s already lifeless body. Then’ he and Man Man jumped in the stolen Sonata and disappeared. He had to let them mothafuckas know that this shit was not a game. There were real killas in the field, and he was one of them.
**** N. D. ****
(San Francisco)
The surveillance detail was outside and they were Frustrated that they had lost visualization of the target. It was your standard two-unit surveillance detail consisting of four field agents trained in stationary and mobile surveillance. All agents were wearing clothes of the local fashion with two changes of clothes each in the vehicles in case they needed to change their appearance or blend in.
Officer Hedgecock had gone into The House of Prime Rib off of Van Ness, almost forty-five minutes ago. It was believed at first that the young officer was cheating on his wife. That assumption was shot down when Agent Matthews attempted to gain entrance to the establishment. Though he was denied a table due to his dress., Agent Mathews did get a glimpse of Officer Hedgecock, who was seated in a booth with a black San Mateo County Sheriff’s Deputy.
Matthews couldn’t get a description of the Deputy because his back was to him, but from a glance, he could tell that the man was both taller and huskier than Hedgecock.
“I’m telling you, this damn detail is a complete fucking waste of time. If it wasn’t for this guy and his hard work, the local guys would have neva connected the dots on this case. We should be honoring this guy’s work ethic, not detailing him.” Agent Maehr wasn’t complaining. He was just stating pure facts.
In his book, Hedgecock was a good, old fashioned ,True Blue American.
“You know, Mike, on the surface it looks like I would have to agree with you on that. But, trust me, instinct and experience will beat out surface looks every time. If the S.A.C says that she has a hunch about him, then my money is on the S.A.C.” Agent Daly had been around S.A.C. Andreatta too long not to know better then to question her hunches.
There had even been a couple of times when one of her hunches saved his life. They say some people had a sixth sense. Agent Daly believed that S.A.C. Adreatta was definitely one of those people.
“If you two ladies are done with your tea time quarrel, look alive because our target and his mystery guest are exiting the restaurant.” Agent Mathews baritone voice came through their earpiece.
Both Maehr and Daly looked alive and focused on their individual equipment. They watched as Hedgecock and the Deputy made a right out of the restaurant and began walking.
Maehr and Daly were in a non-descript white van parked across the street and down a ways. Agent Rivera was seated at a patio lounge two doors down in the opposite direction the two walked in. He was nursing a coke that had long since gone warm. Agent Mathews on the other hand was sitting down at a bus stop. Reading a Time Magazine while waiting on the bus.
“Rivera, I think it’s time to let that Coke go and reposition yourself. Daly, you and Maehr hold your position for now. If they stay on foot, we will leap frog using both backward and forward tailing. And if they mobilize, then you guys can assume the following.” Mathews was discreetly speaking into the mini microphone hidden on his tie clip. He just looked like he was reading an article. “No matter what, I want the net loose. I don’t want to jeopardize the tail, nor do I want anyone compromised.”
While Agent Mathews was instructing and repositioning his
team. Officer Hedgecock and the Deputy that he was with turned off into an alley way. There was too much noise coming off of the busy street for audio to pick up anything.
“Subject just turned off into an alley way. I’ve lost visualization. Rivera where are you at?” Mathews wanted to get up and walked towards the alley way, but he knew that he had to maintain his position or risk compromising the assignment and detail.
“Don’t worry your ugly, little head, Roger. I’m right behind you, taking tourist pictures of our lovely city.” Agent Rivera was only a couple footsteps away from the entrance of the alley way as he spoke.
“Okay Jose. Just make sure to keep it natural and believable.” No matter what the assignment, Mathews was always the worry wart. Sort of like a mother hen. But he was damn good at what he did.
Agent Rivera smiled innocently at a couple that passed by him.
“What you mean natural? Matter of fact, Rog. I’m about as natural as they come just ask your wii….”
“Ho-ly shit!” The sight before his eyes was the last thing he expected to see.
Immediately Mathews was heard in the earpiece. “What is it, Jose?”
“You ain’t gone believe me if I told you. But what is that old saying, “a picture is worth a thousand words.” Rivera had hit the zoom function on his digital camera, as well as auto settings for lighting and video quality. He was recording everything.
Half way down the alley way, the Sheriffs Deputy had Officer Hedgecock pinned up against the wall. Oblivious to anything going on around them, they were locked passionately in a rough embrace, French kissing as if their lives depended on it. Clearly the Sheriff’s Deputy was the aggressor, the way he was groping all over Hedgecock. Rivera thought they might actually start screwing right there in the alley way, in broad daylight.
“Soooo, it turns out that our little rendezvous is indeed actually a date.” Rivera couldn’t wait to hear what responses he got back on that comment.
“What do you mean it’s a date?” Mathews almost lost his grip on the magazine.
“What he means is our boy likes beans on his taco.” Maehr joked which he followed with laughter.
“Spot check.” Mathews called into the microphone.
“Approximately thirty-five yards deep into the alley on the eastern side, leaned up against a building.” Rivera looked for some sort of camouflage or object which he could hide behind. As he gave his response to Mathews spot check.
The couple broke their lip lock for a moment only to discuss something briefly. Whatever it was excited Hedgecock, because he attacked his lover’s lips again.
A few feet next to them was a garbage dumpster that was full of trash. There was trash that spilled over from the dumpster all around it. The alley way itself was the typical San Francisco alley way. It was fucked up. Trash and old furniture were everywhere.
They moved towards the dumpster and the big Deputy who was easily six foot four, two hundred sixty-five pounds, took his huge French coat off.
“Aw fuck me, I know they not about to…” Rivera couldn’t even finish the statement. He was so grossed out. Just think, only moments ago he’d agreed with Maehr about praising this mothafucka.
“About to what?” Daly knew what he was about to say. He just didn’t think that two honest representatives of law enforcement would do such a shameful and dumb ass thing in public.
“Rivera what’s going on?” Mathews hated being clueless about anything. It made him feel out of control. Helpless.”
“Trust me, Rog, you don’t wanna know.” Jose Rivera meant every single ward.
“Trust you, my ass! Jose, what are they doing? I want a complete response to my question.” A passerby turned and stared at the young muscle-bound black man sitting on the bench arguing with himself, like the basket case he naturally had to be.
Agent Roger Mathews paid the fat worn down white woman no mind.
“Currently, Officer Hedgecock is behind a dumpster on his knees with his pants down taking it up the ass very powerfully by the black Deputy that he had lunch with. Even with them being behind the dumpster, I have a hellavah angle and view. There’s no mistaking what’s going on, Rog. Clearly, Hedgecock has a bigger secret then anyone realized. I’m not gay or nothing but judging by what I see, I’d say that secret is at least eleven inches.” He figured that was a very complete response.
“God Damn! This is going on right now?” Agent Daly didn’t believe Rivera was mistaken just couldn’t believe what he heard.
“Right this very minute.” Rivera didn’t want to witness the shit that he was seeing, but he knew how important the video was.
“Do you have it on video?”, Agent Mathews asked.
“Time stamped and recording, sir.” He responded
“Excellent.” Mathews was weighing the potential leverage of such intriguing and damaging evidence.
“Rog. Sir, what are our orders while our friend is getting his back blown out?” Agent Maehr despised homosexuals and wanted to get as far away from the ordeal as possible.
“Unfortunately, boys, we’re gonna have to wait this one out. Rivera hold your position. Daiy, Maehr as quick as you can change clothes and be ready to go mobile. I want you on the east and west side of the alley. When our two love birds are done, which ever direction Hedgecock heads, that person will replace Rivera and pick up the tail.
“The other will switch positions with myself. Rivera and I will hold an owl view and be ready to pick up the vehicle’s trail. I have no doubt that they will be wanting to get away from the area as soon as they finish their business.” Mathews gave out the new orders while deciding to get ahold of S.A.C. Andreatta.
The one thing he was sure of was that she needed to know this bit of information.
**** N. D. ****
Location Unknown
After considering the things that had transpired on the streets and couple of situations that took place behind the walls of two California Prisons, he Central Committee of the Black Guerilla Family held council and came to the decision to pass down a few orders and a couple of sanctions. The orders came down the proper channels until they made their way to Dok’s desk.
Immediately, Dok had his Minister of Education call a meeting with his complete cadre. There the orders of the Committee were read out loud and discussed to make sure all understood the new orders. The disobeying of a direct order from the Central Committee was an automatic death sentence. Because of this, it was always ensured that all parties that the order pertained to fully understood the order.
The meeting lasted just shy of two hours. Everything from personnel changes and faculty restricting to theoretic Military procedure and the course of action dealing with Clark’s team was discussed.
Needless to say, all were in agreement that the situation with Clark had gone on too long. Military Command was directed to strategize a final scenario for the Demise of Clark and his personnel, by utilizing the E.G.U. cadre.
Although Dok was still the commanding General of Ground Force Troops, he was instructed to relinquish authority of all Military personnel over to Mtambo and continue focusing on the growth and development aspect of the organization. Mtambo would give a full disclosure brief in the form of a report each and every night.
Before the meeting ended, the sanctions passed down by the Council were read out loud. There wasn’t a need to discuss sanctions at any length. It was simply a matter of carrying them out. In the swiftest possible means as not to endanger or jeopardize the cadre. Sanctions were severe discipline handed down by the Supreme Council, which is the highest level of the Central Committee.
Most often a sanction was a death sentence. Each Cadre had its own Minister of Justice for the hexing of smaller matters and methods of discipline for its members. Even when such matters carried the sanction of death, the committee only got involved when the issue at hand involved the entire Cadre or Organization as a whole, or when the individual is of a certain rank or above was killed, because only the
committee can sanction the life of someone with the rank equivalent to a General.
Dok had just finished a conversation with Zair when Cuana walked up to him.
“What’s going on, Afrikan?” Her question and tone were innocent enough, but her eyes spoke of genuine concern and care.
“Just carrying out orders while trying to make sure our people are given effective leadership to the causes that we strive for.” The response was generic at best and he knew it.
“Come on ,brah. I didn’t ask a politician for a summary. I asked my Baba (father) how he was doing. I know you don’t like the order. All of us know this. You’ve taught me so much over the years. One of the most important things you’ve taught me is that we all need some sort of an outlet. I’m a listening ear.” This time the care came across in her voice.
“Aw, Lil One.” Dok closed his eyes and took a deep breath, she was right. He hated the decision that the Committee made, but voicing his dislike wouldn’t change a thing.
What field combatant would like to be taken out of the field?
Regardless of whether it be a foot soldia or a commanding General, we are warriors at heart and killas at best. It’s what we do, it’s what we love.
“Now, of course, my fight to further the party and improve our standings in the community and nation as a whole, is as strong today as it was twenty years ago when I first drank from the cup. However, there is a war going on and I’m being told to sit back in the comforts of safety while my men risk their lives. Not just my men, but my boys. Sons who were forced to grow up without me due to my choices and my dedication for the cause. What if…” Dok choked up. For the first time since she’d known him. Cuana witnessed what she thought would be the first time she would see him cry.
She took his arm and guided him to sit down. Cuana wasn’t that much older then Scooter and Rell, but she’s been around their father more then either of them. Before he went to prison he’d found Cuana in an abandoned crack house one day. She was nine years old, scared, lonely hungry and alone. He took her with him and had been a father to her ever since. As he had grown and developed so had she.