Voorheeze & Clarkola

by De'Kari

  Although he couldn’t see where the shots were coming from because of the parked vehicles he was crouched in front of, Clark’s instinct was telling him they were coming from behind the Honda to his left.

  BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

  The sound of his new .44 Desert Eagles sounded like bombs from Bagdad.

  “It’s four of em Dad! Niggaz in a blue minivan! Tut called out to Clark.

  Tat! Tat! Tat! Tat! Tat! Tat! Tat! Tat!

  BOCCA! BOCCA! BOCCA! BOCCA!

  It was like a scene out of a gangster movie. Pedestrians screamed as they scrambled to get out of the way.

  Four niggaz against two aint neva been good odds. But Clark aint neva been the type of nigga to bitch up or turn pussy under no circumstance!

  Crouching down right now he was starting to feel embarrassed. He could only imagine how he looked to the people who were hiding in the stores or behind cars and looking at the shoot out! Fuck this nigga! Pride was more important than caution! He wasn’t about to look like no sucka!

  He noticed there was a brief pause in the gunfire, which could only mean they were reloading. Fuck it! It’s all or nothing! He thought to himself. He pulled his second Desert Eagle from his waist and stood clear up!

  BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

  With both guns blazing he walked steadily towards the minivan.

  BOOM! BOOM!

  The niggaz who were shooting at them were caught off guard by the brazen act. They too began to duck and cover.

  Tut looked up and couldn’t believe this nigga was pulling a Denzel from Training Day. Tut thought he was crazy but watching Clark right then, he knew that nigga had to be crazy hands down!

  “Fuck it Dad! What’s happening!” Tut yelled out as he jumped up and start bussin. He wasn’t about to be outdone! They didn’t call him Tut-Tut for nothing. Let them thangs talk!

  Tut! Tut! Tut!

  The sudden move threw the four shooters off. In a panic, the driver hit the gas pedal. A nigga was on his knees shooting from the sliding side door. He lost his balance and fell out of the van when the driver hit the gas. When he hit the ground, his 9mm fell out of his hand and slid under a parked car. He jumped up as fast as he could.

  Fuck his banger, he had to get back in the minivan. He knew if he didn’t, he would be dead. Just then, a bullet caught him in the shoulder. The force of the bullet caused his body to spin around. He fell halfway inside the van. His torso landed inside on the seat while his legs were hanging out the open door. He could see Clark steadily advancing. Right then, he wished he had his banger in his hand.

  BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

  The sound of the gunfire made the nigga try to jump all the way into the minivan. He was too late! The shit was getting too hot for Roscoe, who was the driver of the van. They’d had the advantage and perfect opportunity in the beginning. Now shit had changed, they’d lost the upper-hand, and it was time to get outta there. Roscoe hit the gas pedal, nearly side-swiping a car as he sped out the parking lot.

  As he sped past the car, he heard a loud thump, and someone cry out, but he neva stopped! He didn’t care if he ran somebody over, fuck ‘em, at least he made it up out of there.

  **** N. D. ****

  Just as the minivan lurched forward the young shooter was trying his hardest to pull the lower half of his body in the minivan using just his upper body. The pain in his shoulder from the gunshot was unbearable. Almost in, he thought to himself as he inched closer!

  Thump!

  As Roscoe sped past the parked car that he’d almost side swiped, he neva realized that it was his niggaz body that collided with the car that made the loud thump. The shit looked sickening. His body was bent and twisted like some type of contortionist. One leg was torn completely off. It was on the ground next to the parked car, the other leg was folded backwards, broken in three places. But the pain from the wounds didn’t bother the little nigga, what was killing him the most was the sight of Clark walking up to him looking like the grim reaper himself.

  Little Ned’s heart was beating so hard, he could hear it beating in his ears.

  “I would ask you who you are or who yo boys were, but it don’t matter. I’ll find out!” Little Ned didn’t think he could feel any more fear, but he was wrong.

  Hearing what Clark just said, he knew death was here! He wasn’t sure if he was pissing his pants, but he knew they were now soaked.

  “What you and yo niggaz should’ve realized is, Nigga dis Neva Die! We get it the “Smack Mobb Way”.”

  BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

  Five slugs to his head ended Ned’s life. After killing him, Clark walked casually back to the whip. Tut reached the whip at the same time as Clark did with their food from Jonathan’s in his hands.

  “How can a nigga worry about food in the midst of a shoot-out?” He asked himself.

  “Nigga I know you ass ain’t that fuck’n hungry!” Clark couldn’t believe that Tut had all the food in his hands.

  “Come on Dad, fo real? Blood you just bodied that nigga and our fingerprints all over dis shit”! He nodded to all the bags of food in his hands, “no fingerprints, no evidence, Dad! Now get yo Smack Mobb ass in and let’s get up outta here”. With two shootouts in one day, Menlo Park P.D. was guaranteed to be on shit. As sure as shit, they saw Menlo Park P.D. coming over the ramp as they were hitting 101 heading South.

  Across the street, sitting in a car in the parking lot of Baneth's Pharmacy, Tashira Green aka Tieka sat with a smile on her face. She was sitting in her car thinking about the encounter she just had with Clark when the shooting broke out.

  As the war broke out in front of her, she was so scared she didn't know what to do. Instincts told her to help, but rationale told her not to do jack shit. So, she watched it all. She was scared and at the same time turned on by Clark’s Rambo-like behavior. As a swarm of squad cars screeched to a halt all around the area, Tieka pulled off with a slight smile on her face.

  CHAPTER VII

  (Later on, that night)

  “Fuck you mean you left him! How da fuck you leave ‘em brah?” He paced back and forth with his banger in his hand. “Nigga if dat was yo mothafuck’n ass would you have wanted a mothafucka to leave you?” Young Sutton was furious. He couldn’t believe what this coward ass nigga had just told him. Sutton was a Village nigga thru and thru! A ride about it or die about it type nigga! So, hearing that Roscoe let lil Ned fall out of the minivan and left him behind to die, he wasn’t trynna hear none of that shit!

  “Rogue, I didn’t know he fell out. One minute he was on the floor blaz’n wit us, then shit got so fuck’n hot, I got up out of there! Like anyone would’ve done. I thought he was in the back!” Roscoe pleaded his case. The fear in his voice was evident. He glanced around the room hoping to find a sympathetic eye from his comrades. Someone that would take his side, but all he saw was shame and anger on everyone’s face.

  They’d lost two brothers today and had a taste of blood in their mouths and hatred in their hearts! They all had been together for years. This was the very first time they had taken a loss. So, to hear that Roscoe abandoned Lil Ned had them all silently questioning him and his motives. If he left Lil Ned in the midst of the funk, he could abandon any of them, was the thought in all their minds.

  “Brah it was four of y’all! Four of y’all!” Sutton shouted and then repeated to himself, not understanding how four niggaz could be out gunned by two.

  “Brah it was four of you mothafuckas! How in da fuck did two niggaz make it hot for y’all!”

  “Brah w-we had them from t-the jump.” Roscoe was fumbling over his words because of fear, trynna get them out.

  KeKe didn’t have a problem sitting back watching Roscoe get embarrassed. He didn’t like Roscoe, so the shit was hilarious to him. But now Sutton was starting to make them all look like some pussies by the way he was talking, so he spoke up.

  “Look Blood, I know what that nigga just told you sound like a bunch of bullshit. But, Blood I’m telling you on my de
ad granny, what just happened out there was some made in Hollywood shit!” Everyone looked at KeKe as he spoke, he commanded that type of respect. That is why he was the second in command.

  “Blood we had both them niggaz pinned down behind a car blaz’n and closing in on ‘em. When outta nowhere that nigga Clark stands straight the fuck up like da terminator or some shit. Wit bullets flying by him he just starts letting go wit two, big, loud ass Dessert Eagles!”

  “Blood I don’t give a fuck what nobody says! That shit was so crazy all a nigga could do was stand there shocked, like what the fuck is this? By the time niggaz recovered from the shock of seeing that shit, it was too late. They had the upper hand! Mothafuckas were lucky to get the fuck outta there period Blood! As for Lil Brah, dat shit hurt like a motherfucka. But Blood, I thought the lil Nigga was in da back too. I saw him dive back into the back!” KeKe called it, how he saw it.

  “Okay, hold up! Hold the fuck up!” Sutton’s patience was below E. All this fucking talking wasn’t going to do anything for his two fallen soldiers.”

  “Roscoe, you was driving?” He looked at Roscoe waiting for confirmation. Roscoe reluctantly nodded his head.

  “And KeKe you say you was in the passenger?”

  “No doubt blood I’m always shotgun.

  Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!”

  Without hesitation, Sutton lifted his five-seven fn herstal and sent four hot slugs through the chest of J.J. knocking him off of his feet and landing on what was left of his back.

  While KeKe was explaining shit to them, a little bit of clarity was able to sink in through the many clouds of rage inside of Sutton’s head.

  Four niggaz meant two in the front and two in the back. From the way they broke it down Lil Ned dove back in the van. So, the niggaz in the front would not have had a clue that the loud thump they heard was Ned’s body hitting the parked car. But J.J. would’ve known, because he was in the back of the van. This whole time he had been sitting there like a little bitch. Neva once saying a word. Guilt was written all over his face before Sutton blew his chest out his back!

  “Dem mothafuckas aint gone respect us or fear us if we keep missing. That’s 0 for 2! Right now, dem old mothafuckas is laughing at us! How yall expect to take ova and you can’t even bust that thang? Huh?” Sutton’s frustration was causing his anger to rise again.

  He loved everybody in the room like family, they all grew up together. Even when his mom moved them to Oakland, his sister always brought him down to East Palo Alto and dropped him off at his Auntie Rena’s house. As him and his friends grew up they watched all the older cats getting their money, mostly Neva Die crew. Flossing like the world was theirs and it was. Neva once did they give back to the same people that they stepped on to get to the top.

  Sutton thought about the many nights he watched his friends starve because they had a dope fiend for a mom or a dad, or both parents. Sutton’s big sister always made sure he had food, but he would always feel guilty that his friends were going without. Other times he would save his meal in a plastic bag and give it to his peoples the next day to share.

  “Have yall forgotten why we decided to do this? Or what we said we were gonna do?” He looked at every face in the room.

  “Chanel how old were you when that nigga Lerone told you he would give you twenty dollars to suck his bitch ass dick?” He asked full of rage.

  “I was only twelve.” Instantly she relived the memory in her mind.

  Her mother had been gone for five days, leaving little Chanel with no food. The hunger pains were so severe she cried most of the day, balled up in the corner of the room. Chanel had hit puberty young, at age 9, so by twelve her 38C breast and widening hips made her look years older. She drew a lot of attention from all the neighborhood D-Boys, but she always ignored them. She was so hungry by the time Lerone made the proposition, she didn’t hesitate. Even though she was a virgin, in his sick and perverted cocaine filled mind, he was just glad that he had her first.

  To add insult to injury, the nigga didn’t even pay her. When she asked him for the money, all he did was laugh at her. Even though it happened years ago, the memory still hurt her and brought tears to her eyes. They fell down her face as shame filled her heart.

  “Terry!” He looked at another girl in the group.

  “Huh?” She looked up at Sutton with a concerned look, but she already knew what he was about to ask her.

  “How old were you when that hoe ass nigga took your innocence?” With no remorse in his voice.

  “Thirteen.” She mumbled, still ashamed even though it wasn’t her fault that the hoe ass nigga Rico was a fuck’n pedophile.

  “I’m not trynna put nobody on front street! Everybody in this room knows what we’ve each been through. We all know what we’re doing! Mothafuckas got lessons to learn and we the ones to teach em. When we’re done they gone know that there’s a price to pay foe da shit they did! The-Hate-U-Gave-Little-Infants-fucks-Everybody!” Everyone in the room cheered and hollered. That was Tupac’s definition or meaning of “Thug Life” that he quoted, and it was the fuel that fed their fire.

  They were all babies, no one in the room was older than seventeen, except Sutton who was nineteen, but they were all forced to grow up way too soon and way too fast. This was the life that they were given. This was the hands they were dealt. And they were gonna to play that hand to the best of their abilities.

  Shit this was YOUNG NIGGA MAFIA, how else would they do it!

  (Across the Bay Area in Oakland)

  Voorheeze was addressing Gunz crew as they sat around the table.

  “As far as I’m concerned, my brotha trust and respect yall enough to have full faith that you’ll run this ship as smooth as he’s been running it, when he leaves! And I love and trust my brotha enough to honor and respect his decision, even in his absence.” The people in the room looked on intently as he spoke.

  Each person knowing the magnitude of what was going on. Their dragon chains let the world know what time it was, while the dragon tattoos under their clothing signified their loyalty to one another.

  “This is still Neva Die. Make sure everybody from yo lieutenants down to yo soldiers know that! For all intents and purposes, A.J. is now running the Oakland Chapter. His word is Law! A.J. and I say this in front of you, so there will neva be any misunderstandings… My word supersedes your word, period point blank! I know I ain’t gotta say this, but I will. And if Gunz returns, he will retain his position and full authority. However, I aint about fuck’n niggaz over so the pay raises that everybody is receiving will remain in place even if brah returns!

  A.J.! You, me and Gunz will get together after this to check some shit out but little brah this yo house, run it as you see fit. Just don’t run it in the ground.”

  “No doubt.” A.J. wasn’t much for words everyone knew that. He was bout that action.

  “Roc, a couple years ago I watched you make an oath to my lil brother. And I’ve watched you honor yo word and oath without question. Now I gotta ask you, O.G. are you still bound by word?” Voorheeze neva forgot how vicious Big Roc was or how adamant Gunz was about taking him out back in the day he was a threat way back then. Voorheeze wasn’t taking no chances. If the wrong thing came out of Big Rocs mouth he would die right here and right now.

  “That oath applies as long as my man lives lil homie. But V this aint nothing to do with that oath. We family now and I ride lil homie cause we all we got!” Big Roc meant each and every word.

  Yea he was doing his little thang before this Neva Die shit, but it wasn’t nowhere near the shit he was doing now. He’s grown to love and respect his team, which was one of the things he had always wanted, a team of his own. Voorheeze didn’t know it but Big Roc felt the same way about him as he did about Gunz, they were both his nephews. Big Roc was Neva Die till da casket dropped!

  Voorheeze made eye contact with each person in the room. He had to admit that Gunz built one solid fucking team. Looking at them he could feel their
fierceness. Even DeeDee sat there without a lick of larceny in his heart. Everyone assumed when word first got out about Gunz deciding to head out towards Philly that he would place the reins in DeeDee’s hands. DeeDee was as loyal as can be and solid thru and thru.

  What the rest of the team didn’t know was Gunz was going to put DeeDee in charge. DeeDee came to Gunz a few nights before and told Gunz to put A.J. in charge. DeeDee was a wild child, he knew he needed somebody to tell him when to fall back because he didn’t know when himself. He was a goon not a leader. So, if he was in charge his temper would bring the whole ship down.

  A.J. knew he couldn’t allow that to happen.

  Voorheeze picked up his glass and everyone in the room followed suit.

  “To our new head of state! And to Neva Die Oakland!” Everyone saluted and paid their respects.

  “Oh, Rogue I almost forgot!” Voorheeze said as he dug in to his pocket.

  He fumbled around for a minute making a big show like he couldn’t find what he’s looking for. Finally, he pulled his hand out of his pocket and A.J. a key fob.

  “What’s this big brah? A.J. asked excitedly. He already knew how Voorheeeze got down.

  “That’s you Rogue. Nigga, bosses don’t ride muscle. Nigga, we drive foreign.

  Everyone followed A.J. out to the front of the Koffee Shop to see what Voorheeze was giving him. Right outside the doors sat the brand new 2008 Porche Cayanne with custom black licorice and cherry red paint. Sitting on 24-inch black and red Forgiattos. The interior is an Italian dark almond butter, soft leather with deep, dark Mahogany, wood grain. All sitting behind deep, dark window tints.

  A.J. could give a fuck about trynna front and be poised like a boss, he was excited as hell.

  “Brah! Brah! Fuck nah! Luv you brah!” Acting like a little kid at Christmas.

  Right then Voorheeze’s phone rang. He checked the caller I.D. to see who it was, then answered, “What’s hood wit it?”

  “Brah, I just got done watching the news. Nigga dey just put dis new bitch in da white house. Brah dat bitch bad ass fuck!” The caller said.