Angelos Odyssey
Page 49
“It's no problem, Vic.” Little cut him off. “You're a good soldier; that's why Dfari chose you to have my back.”
I suddenly realized something and spoke up: “So, what about our payment?”
Little stopped for a moment before turning to face me with a vehement expression. “You just don't understand, do you? Dfari pays us based off the quality of the work we do, and the crew fucked up! –You gotta get your head outta your ass, T!” He poked me in the chest but appeared slightly nervous when doing so; they all knew I wasn't someone to be trifled with. “Now the whole operation has to pull itself together and move to a whole new area! We could end up in a war with some rival punks who don't want us there!”
“Yeah…” I was unphased. “But that was a good score, you know? That wasn't no chump change—and we worked for it.”
“I don't wanna hear it, dumbass!” Little shouted. “Dfari gonna kick you out of the whole thing if you keep steppin' against his plans!”
“I'm not steppin' to nothing; I just wanna know why I'm not getting paid! I did my part, didn't I?”
Little sighed. “Like I said before, kid: you don't get it… and you just ain't gonna last here.”
--
I returned home that night while trying to figure out how to tell Eze the news…
I had enough money to support myself for a brief period of time, and I was getting older; I felt that it was right to start making my own moves. Eze had slowly backed away from parenting me and settled into his original life he'd lived before he'd taken on that role. We'd begun to respect each other’s distance, but I regret being too stubborn to reach out to him the way I should’ve. I'd been so focused on becoming stronger and doing what I could for myself that I'd completely ignored that junkie fool.
--
Janelle
--
Tavon looked away and appeared solemn.
“What's wrong?” Aaliyah touched his arm.
He looked into her eyes and shook his head with a bitter expression…
--
Tavon
--
Eze was my first friend in the world; the first who ever looked out for me. If not for him, I don't think I would have survived.
On the night that I came home from the robbery, I noticed that Anubis was nowhere to be found again. Eze was still lying on the bed; there was no way he could've still been asleep…
I grew worried and slowly walked over to his cot.
Eze's skin was so… pale. His eyes were closed, but his mouth remained slightly agape. Next to his arm, a needle attached to a syringe had fallen away from the bloodied area it’d pierced.
Eze had passed on.
He'd overdosed.
…
I remember sitting next to his limp frame for a prolonged period of time. I waited for my emotions to take over—for tears to start raining from my eyes.
But they never came.
Rather, it was a different sort of feeling. Shock mingled with a crushing remorse. I'd never stuck around to push Eze to fulfill his own dreams. I'd left him alone and tried to disassociate with his legacy simply because I had too much pride for my own good (I still do). And at the end of his life, he'd left the world after a pointless argument with someone he considered his son.
And the truth is, “Tavon” was the name of Jerik Sandeze's real son: Tavon Sandeze.
You see, Eze hadn't always been such a mess. There was a time when Jerik was a different man altogether.
He'd returned after five years of serving the Enrec Military and suffered from severe night terrors after having witnessed events he'd later never be able to speak of. Jerik Sandeze once had a wife and kid of his own.
Eze was happily married for several years and invested most of his free time into his family. He was a good father and devastated when Tavon was killed by a stray bullet during a shootout in their neighborhood. Tavon was rushed to the hospital, and the Sandeze family was informed that their son had passed the instant the round made contact. He’d hemorrhaged once it coursed through the side of his head.
Alas, Tavon Sandeze never had a chance in this world.
This drove Eze partially mad. Even more tragically, Jerik and his wife, Amy, eventually split up over a shared, inescapable misery; they were reminded of Tavon’s death every time they looked at one another. The fracturing of the relationships he’d held dearest to him was what sent Eze into his own downward spiral.
Prior to becoming a junkie, Eze had sold cruisers for a living and even planned on owning his own dealership before his funds were completely depleted due to his new habit. He'd always possessed a talent for calming and convincing those to whom he spoke. Even when he was completely high, Eze had an uncanny ability to persuade people; this is primarily how he'd managed to survive for so long. But this is what my “father's” life came to in the end, destroyed by his own vices and left alone. That was the very last lesson he had in him: your demons exist to challenge you, but sometimes you lose the game.
It took me a lot of time to process what had happened, but I eventually told myself that I would carry on Sandeze's legacy by always honoring his memory. I'll admit that his outbursts and erratic behaviors pissed me off at times, but he was—by nature—a great man.
Rest in peace, Jerik Sandeze…
--
As you can imagine, I was more than emotionally broken following his passing. Professor Norlin kept attempting to contact me since I hadn't been fooling around in the dojo lately. He wanted me to start training early for another major bout he was trying to set up so I could gain a larger audience. But at that time, I was too concerned with what was going on with the people I worked for. The four of us had spent months smoking and selling together, and so, in a manner of speaking, we were our own family. And now, we had to relocate to the First Quadrant. Word was that Dfari's boss had been negotiating with a much bigger mobster who was more interested in absorbing our crew. However, our actions had left the rest of our people with no choice in the matter.
The Citadel is a city divided into its three societal layers. It was built the way it is largely for the purpose of housing a whole nation while filtering its residents. A move from one Quadrant or Zone to another is considered a drastic change merely because each section of the Citadel is immense in its own right. The First Quadrant of the Lower-City was northeast of us by over a hundred miles—
--
Janelle
--
“You don't gotta speak to me like I'm a dumbass, Tavon! I know what the Citadel is! —I live in it!” Aaliyah rolled her eyes.
“You'd be surprised at how many fools still think they live on the ground. They stopped teaching history, and most knowledge about the past is all speculation put together by people on the internet…”
Aaliyah chuckled. “You're telling me that someone could live in the Citadel her whole life and not realize what it is?”
“Yeah!” Tavon exclaimed. “There’s a lot of dumb people, even in the New World. We got access to all the info, but no one takes the time to actually look at the truth.”
“Keep going.” Aaliyah kissed him. “What happened after that?”
“Too much…”
--
Tavon
--
When I arrived on the corner where we were supposed to meet on the day of our departure, I waited alone for a long time before Isaac finally showed. I remember that he was twitching and that he completely avoided eye contact with me.
“Rise, you good man?” I asked hesitantly.
“I-I… don't know. F-fuck.” He was pacing back and forth with his hands interlocked behind his head. Isaac was drenched in sweat and seemed feverish; his eyes darted and searched for a nonexistent enemy.
“Yo Rise.” I placed my hand on his shoulder. “Just tell me what happened, man? What's wrong?”
“I did what… I did what he told me to do.”
“What did he tell you to do!?” I quickly became furious. Something was wellin
g up inside of me.
“I'm sorry, brother; I felt like I needed to do it to prove something.”
“What the fuck did you do, Rise!? Why you being cryptic again? It’s me here—relax.”
“Ay, kid, you watch your mouth around here!” Little had entered the scene. He quickly shoved his gun into my backside and threatened: “Don't you ever fuck with a higher-ranking member, ya hear? You finna be fired soon, anyways!”
I shrugged, pushed the weapon away, and backed up from Isaac. “Whatever. Where's Vic?”
“Kid, you've got a lot of ner—wait, that's why I came here. I thought he was rollin' with you two?”
I shook my head. “No. I've been waiting here for the longest, man; he ain't never showed.”
Isaac remained silent.
“Well, we can't just be leavin' without him!” Little started yelling. “We gotta look for his ass; ay, Vic is good peoples, man.”
At that moment, Dfari pulled up in another cruiser he'd overridden. He didn't roll his window away to address us this time and simply unlocked the cruiser doors. We climbed in, and Dfari accelerated at a rapid speed onto a hyper rail that would direct us toward the First Quadrant.
We rode in silence for some time, and finally Little began speaking again.
“Ay, so… we ain't takin' Vic?”
Dfari didn't respond; an awkward silence followed.
“All right.” Little continued with a hint of irritation in his voice. “So, boss, what do you got planned for us, huh? You know, I was thinking you could give the crew a bigger role, you kn—”
“You mean after that fuck up you guys just had?” Dfari finally responded without glancing in Little's direction. “Nah. There’s plans in motion, Little; it's some high-tech shit we're working on, but I'm sure you’re gonna get the hang of it.”
“Sounds good, D.” An eager smile spread across Little's face; he was almost too ready to grow up. “We about to be rich, own our own apartments… —we gonna be popular with the ladies, too, ‘cuz you know it's all about the money these days, right?”
--
It was several hours later when Dfari had navigated his way into a condemned housing area belonging to a section of the First Quadrant. He drove the cruiser through numerous, awkwardly tight city corridors before bringing us to a building that had been nearly destroyed in a previous firefight possibly dating back to the founding of Enrec itself. He'd managed to take us to a place that had been mostly unbothered for some time and was known primarily for its squatter population. In a way, it was all left as a home for those who had no shelter—but very few across the Citadel knew about its existence as its own social pocket stowed away in the city.
It was here that Dfari ordered us to “Get out.” before he stepped out of the cruiser himself and approached our group as we gathered inside of the corroded building.
“Aight, boss, what's happenin'? I'm ready for what you got to spit at us.”
Dfari looked into Little's eyes and stated: “Vic is dead.”
The boss then drew his revolver and fired a bullet into Little's skull, instantly killing the young street soldier.
I'd already reacted by this time and dashed toward Dfari while preparing to deliver a combination of strikes I knew would shake him up! Our boss pivoted toward me and…
… To my utter surprise, it only took one, swift strike. A punch I'd intentionally made weak to test his mettle somehow managed to knock Dfari to the ground and caused him to drop his weapon! With one hit, I'd already defeated someone who’d been fronting his whole life.
Dfari quickly shielded his face and pleaded, “Wait! Stop—I-I can't beat you!”
“You can't kill me either, you bastard!”
“T-the boss ordered me to get rid of everybody but one! You-you gotta believe me, T!”
“But one?!” Isaac gasped; his face reddened. “You told me only Vic had to go?!”
Dfari slowly got to his feet and backed away from us. I took up his gun and aimed it at him, but I didn't know if I could actually kill him. I wasn’t even sure if I could work it.
Can I really just… do it? Do I have it in me?
“Wait!” He pleaded. “The boss said Rise is the only one who can move past that fucked up heist—s-so we had him do it!” Dfari was crying now. “Don't kill me! Please!”
“Isaac,” I glanced over at him; I shook with fury, “… you killed Vic?”
He looked away. “It was him or me, T… Dfari said I'd be promoted, but I didn't know you and Little were also supposed to be hit!”
“He's telling the truth.” Dfari had calmed slightly, but he disgusted me. Little’s body was only a few inches from my feet, and it nearly drove me mad upon noticing the scarlet halo gathering around his ruined head.
“I-I wasn't sure if I could take three of you guys at once… Isaac helped me divide and conquer.”
“And now look what that's cost you!” I prepared to pull the trigger, hoping a round had already entered the chamber.
With a rapid motion, Isaac batted the gun out of my grasp and pushed me back while attempting to stand his ground. I was ready to strike him down—but his eyes bore into me… remember my mom. He didn’t speak it, but I knew.
“Look, T! I love you… a-and I know you can kick my ass, but I'm not about to let this crew down, ya hear me?”
“What crew?!” I was too astonished to be angry anymore. “Dfari killed our friends, Rise!”
“So did I.” Isaac said grimly. “Vic didn't fuck with you anyways, man; Little and him were plotting against you.”
“But they didn't deserve to die!”
“And neither does D, Tavon!” Isaac tightly gripped my arms.
“If you want to fight me, Knockdown, then give me your best damn shot!” Isaac released and stood proudly. “I've come too far with these people for you to just… to just fuck this good shit up for me!”
Isaac readied his fists and prepared himself, waiting in anticipation for me to strike!
“…”
I turned and walked away from the scene.
“Ay, so you scared to fight me now or something?” Isaac yelled after me. “You just mad you lost the Championship to some bald punk!” His laughter was contrived.
“…”
It doesn’t matter. I won’t ever see him again.
I didn't know how wrong I was.
--
During the first month that I'd been squatting alone in abandoned housing, I'd often wake up to money or food left for me. I always assumed that it was Isaac still trying to help me in his own way while staying loyal to his cause.
For whatever reason, Rise disappeared after that first month along with any further contributions. I figured that Dfari's boss had probably relocated him to another part of the Lower-City. The last time I saw him he was dying in my arms; his appearance had changed so much. Like Sandeze, I wish things had turned out better than they did for High Rise.
… That's four of my family members who’ve passed now.
Though I'd suffered losing people I'd considered my friends as well as the man who'd raised me as his own son, I felt a different type of hungry. Buried in my own confusion and disappointment, I gained a new resolve. In my mind, Little and Vic had to be avenged. With Isaac out of the picture, I realized that I could finally hurt the real mobster behind the assassinations.
I would hit Dfari and his leadership back—except it wouldn’t be by killing them…
20
My Philosophy
--
Janelle
--
LANCE RECLINED IN A BARBERSHOP chair and patiently waited while the man he went to regularly began braiding his hair in Zone D. He uttered verses while claiming that he was working on his own mix-tape:
“I'm one step ahead of the competition, competition struck by demolition from the Master on a mission…
“Ay, Mr. Mauros, how's that sound to you, huh?” Lance grinned with pride. “Good, right?”
Old Mr. Mauros, w
ho'd been a barber for the latter portion his life, snorted before breaking out into laughter. “Boy!” He clapped. “Sounds like you used colored pencils to write the lyrics in detention! You’ve got no flow.” He lightly slapped the back of Lance’s head.
“Psh…” L sighed. “Listen, old man; I got this shit—”
“Watch your mouth!” He slapped his head again.
“Ow!” Lance started to curse but then simply gave Mauros a dark look. “You lucky you're old, Mr. Mauros, ‘cuz otherwise things would be different between you and me, you know?”
Mauros chuckled. “Ever since they pulled the young ones outta school they've been nastier than ever.” He glared at the boy and resumed working on his hair. “What ya'll really need is some kind of role model, ya hear? I mean, trying to base your career on music is risky enough without you gettin' thrown into the game like these other fools out here.”
“Man, you just don't get it, pops. Rhyming is my ticket out the Zones and into the Upper-City! I've got talent. Just listen real quick:
“My name is L, not the old but the new, here to deliver something smooth with that heavy kind of groove.
“Quickly, I creep through and knock a muthaf—”
“Lance!”
Apologies, pops; I just wanna put it out there ‘cuz I've been through some hard stops, some hard pauses following periods convalescing into moments of inspiration that got me movin' beyond hesitation—”
“Kid… if you don't shut up and let me do my job…”
Mr. Mauros placed a sound emitter on the counter and drowned Lance's voice out with Boogie Down Production's “My Philosophy” and almost finished with his hair when—
A kid only a few years younger than Lance arrogantly burst through the door and stuttered, as usual, while he spoke loudly, “L, w-we got p-problems, man!”
Mr. Mauros, without skipping a beat, rushed to confront the boy and looked even more intimidating as he yelled: “Don't ever announce your presence like that again or I'll whoop your butt right here! You hear me, boy!”
The young kid backed away and gave in while shrugging, “Sorry, pops… it's just—”
“It's just what?! You need a haircut. For real,” His eyes grew wide as he addressed the newcomer. “Crazy fool coming in here and lookin’ all busted up.”