Me and My Hittas 4

by Tranay Adams

  “Alright, I give up!” he surrendered. “But tell me something before you kill me, exactly what is this all about?”

  “You’re a liability, Ryan. Eventually the police will bring you in and I don’t have any assurance that you won’t throw the dogs a bone. You were always way too reckless. We told you to calm down with all of that wild cowboy shit. Now look where it’s landed you.”

  Arsenegger lifted his arms above the water. Dupri narrowed his eyes into slits trying to make out what was clutched in his right-palm.

  “Here comes the boom.” Arsenegger smiled evilly and pressed the button on the detonator. The house exploded and the fire blew Dupri forward, incinerating his limbs and leaving a torso behind. Arsenegger ducked under the water to avoid the fire ball headed in his direction. Dupri’s torso splashed down into the water. As it sunk towards the bottom, Arsenegger saw the last expression he was wearing. It was one of horror. Dupri’s eyes were rolled to their corners and his mouth was wide open.

  Arsenegger climbed out of the swimming pool and ran toward the backyard gate, making his exit from the scene.

  Meanwhile

  “Ahhh,” Creeper roared and punched the antique gold frame mirror in Black Jesus’ living room causing it to crack into a spider’s web. Black Jesus and Bullet had their heads hung in silence. They all had just seen the broadcast of Puppet and Mira being gunned down like a couple of rabid dogs in the street by Arsenegger. The breaking news report had confirmed Creeper’s suspicions and he was angered that he hadn’t taken Arsenegger out when he had the chance. Creeper continued to punch away at the cracked mirror in a rage, slicing up his fists and staining the glass with his own blood. All of a sudden, he stopped and turned around to Black Jesus, breathing heavily.

  “I’m sorry, Jesus. I’ll pay you for the mirror.” Creeper told him. His eyes were bloodshot and his face was wet with tears. His cut up knuckles exposed the white meat and dripped blood onto the plush mink carpet. Creeper looked down at the mess he was making at his feet. “I’ll pay for your carpet, too.”

  “Don’t worry about it; I couldn’t imagine how you may be feeling right now.” Black Jesus told him sorrowfully. For the first time he noticed Creeper’s sliced up hands. “Look at your hands.” He took the time to examine them both; his face frowned seeing how bad they were. “Jesus Christ, Ruben, we’ve gotta get chu to the hospital.”

  “No!” Creeper snatched his bleeding hands from Black Jesus’ grasp. “No hospitals. Not until I kill that piece of shit.”

  “Let’s go find this pandejo.” Bullet said with anger in his voice. He considered.

  Puppet was his little brother, too. And he was ready to let his gun off in his name.

  “Creeper, you don’t have to get your hands dirty. I have trained assassins at my disposal; they’ll eat that pinche pig alive.” Black Jesus assured him.

  “I appreciate that, but I have to be the one to avenge Puppet’s death.” He told him. “He was my brother.”

  “I understand. If it was my blood I’d want to do the same.” Black Jesus understood where he was coming from. “Before you do allow Marisol to clean your wounds and bandage your hands until you’re able to go to the hospital.” Creeper nodded in agreement. Black Jesus called for Marisol through the intercom in the living room. “Marisol, retrieve the first aide kit and come out into the living room, please.”

  Once Creeper’s hands were bandaged up, he was going to set out on his mission.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Pavielle played the backseat of the Hummer draped in all black from head to toe. His gloved hand had a firm grip on a sawed-off double barrel shotgun as he took a bottle of Hennessy to the head. He wasn’t getting liquored up for the mission at hand; it was more so for him to be able to cope with all of the turmoil he had to deal with in his hectic life. The only things that kept him going were his family and his unborn son, if it wasn’t for them he’d have rather died in his coma and finally be able to be at peace.

  Pavielle passed the bottle of Hennessy up front to Gouch who was also draped in all black. He wore a beanie cap and a black T-shirt. An AK-47 sat up between his legs on the floor. He guzzled some of the dark liquor from the Hennessy bottle and attempted to pass it to Gangsta.

  “I’m straight.” Gangsta said not bothering to look Gouch’s way. His eyes were focused out of the window at the streets. He hoped that they could find Domino or Paybacc, but knew that he was probably reaching. The two of them were most likely lying low somewhere after the assault that was led against them the other night. Gangsta took tokes from a smoldering cigarette causing the tip of it to glow. He blew out smoke from his nose and allowed some to billow out of his mouth. He too was draped in all black for the mission. His thumb caressed the chamber of the black, long barreled revolver that lay on his thigh.

  Draped in murder gear and riding around with the guns caused déjà vu to invade his mind. Nearly one year ago he and his protégé, Lil’ Gangsta, were in this same scenario. They had followed their target to the Barbarie Coast. A a dopeman by the name of Pussy had copped a half of a bird from Gangsta on consignment, but when it came time to pay he told him to “Suck my dick”. Gangsta decided that it was time to give homeboy his wings. They waited until he came out of the establishment, and ended up lying him down along with the two bitches that were with him. Lil’ Gangsta had gotten knocked when he was sent to discard the murder weapons and burn up the G-ride. The cheese eating mothafucka dropped a dime on Gangsta in return for his freedom. But later he ended up getting murdered by a hit-man infamously known as The Ghost.

  “Fuck these niggaz at?” Gangsta asked no one in particular as he scanned the residential street.

  “Them fools are probably somewhere plotting on our downfall.” Gouch told Gangsta. “We aren’t going to find them out here, Blood. At least not tonight we aren’t.”

  “Look,” Gangsta nodded to the windshield at a light-skinned cat on a miniature motorbike. He was in a white T-shirt and rocked a blue Texas “T” snapback upon the blue bandana that covered his head.

  Gouch grinned seeing that there was someone out that night that they could blast on. The cat wasn’t Domino or Paybacc, but he was from their hood and at the most his death would bring them a sense of accomplishment. “Aye, unc, he don’t even see us coming. Ease up on the lil’ high yellow bitch, I’ma blow his face off.” He cocked the hammer on his AK-47 and took the assault rifle in both hands.

  “Nah, Gucci, this one is mine.” Pavielle said, sliding over to the backseat window behind the driver’s seat. He gripped the sawed-off by the handle and by its barrel.

  “Alright then, baby bro,” Gouch said. “He’s all yours.”

  Gangsta executed the headlights of the Hummer and creeped upon snapback. Pavielle rolled down the backseat window and stuck his sawed-off out of the window. He closed an eye and took aim with the double barrel weapon, telling Gangsta, “Easy, unc…easy.” The hummer was nearly on the side of snapback once Pavielle had his sawed-off lined up with his melon. A sharp whistle got him snapback’s attention. Snapback turned around with a mad dog stare, boasting the tattoos on his face. He was about to say something slick, but the sight of the sawed-off changed his mind. Snapback’s face lit up in terror. His eyes bugged and his jaw dropped wide open. Then came the sound of the twin barrels as they exploded in unison. Sparks and smoke spilled from the mouth of the barrels, ripping snapback’s face clean off. The only thing left behind was his bloody, skeletal bone structure. Gangsta mashed the accelerator burning rubber down the block and leaving black tire prints in his wake. Pavielle looked out the back window of the Hummer. He watched as snapback rode a little ways on his mini motorbike before crashing into the back of a parked Scion and falling out into the street.

  It was just another day in the hood.

  $$$

  The night was as silent as the grave, and so dark that you could barely make out the silhouettes outside of Pavielle’s home. The Muslims necks were on swivels, it being the onl
y thing on them moving, made their bodies seem like hardened clay moldings. They operated and moved like robots and were only there to carry out orders: protect Vayda at all costs. That was their priority, and each man would lay his life down if need be.

  The sound of a sawed-off shotgun echoing far in the distance didn’t move the Muslims. They were used to the sounds of gunfire going off in the middle of the night. They were in the heart of the ghetto. They were in an area known as The Low Bottoms. A section of the lower Eastside that had a reputation for getting it popping, it was known for violence and gang activity. And during the few months that the Muslims were posted there guarding their charge they had grown accustomed to it.

  A lone man rocking a black leather duster moved fluidly up the block. Stopping, he slid a cigarette in between his lips and fished around in his pocket for a lighter. When he couldn’t find one he patted down his person, but still came up empty handed. Seeing the Muslims posted up in the yard of a house, he decided to make his way inside and see if they had a light. As soon as the man entered the yard the Muslims assembled around a fellow Muslim wearing a red bowtie. When Nasheed wasn’t present, red bowtie was the brother in charge.

  “Can we help you, brotha?” red bowtie asked.

  “Yes, brotha, you wouldn’t happen to have a light, would ya?” the man inquired.

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t smoke.”

  The man nodded his head. He spat the cigarette on the ground and mashed it out under his boot heel. One by one, the Muslims hollered in excruciation as respective bullets struck their forms, causing them to collapse in a domino effect. Red bowtie whipped out his cannon and slowly backed away, his head whipping from left to right trying to see what angle the sniper was launching his attack from. When he saw the man in the duster moving towards the house he pointed his cannon at his chest, freezing him in his tracks.

  “Get your hands up! Get your hands up now!” red bowtie barked, forgetting about the sniper that had just had him on high alert a moment ago. His only priority was to protect Vayda from any threat coming her way. The man in the duster slowly raised his hands in surrender and rolled his eyes, he was annoyed with red bowtie.

  “You do know you’re in a situation that you can’t win, right?” Paybacc asked.

  “Shut up! Shut your…” red bowtie’s left-eye burst, leaving a bloody and gaping hole behind that you could see clean through. His limp body hit the ground on its back and he released his gun. Paybacc turned around and gave a signal to someone in the night that wasn’t visible. He grabbed red bowtie’s body under its arms and dragged it up the steps of the front porch.

  $$$

  Vayda was sitting on the couch with Damu’s head resting in her lap. She caressed his head and talked with Nasheed who was trying to fix the flat-screen with the fuzzy picture.

  “So how long have you been a member of the nation?” she asked.

  “Ten years now, Ms. Vayda.” He said down on his knees with his shirt’s sleeve rolled up as he toyed with the flat-screen.

  “Are you married? Got any kids?” Vayda asked, then paused and said, “I’m sorry I’m all up in yours.”

  “It’s quite alright, Ms. Vayda.” Nasheed said. “I am not married, and no I don’t have any children. Ah, there we go.” He smiled, having just fixed the flat-screen.

  “Yay,” Vayda smiled and clapped her hands excitedly. “Now we can watch the Sex in the city movie, Damu.” She looked down at the rotweiler and ruffled his head. “Thanks, Nasheed. I really appreciate it.”

  “No problem, Ms. Vayda.” Nasheed replied, pulling down the sleeves of his button-down and buttoning the cuffs.There was a knock at the door that stole his attention. He approached the door and said, “Who is it?”

  “It’s me, brotha!” a voice replied that Nasheed couldn’t distinguish through the door. Figuring that it was one of his fellow Muslim brothers, Nasheed open the wood door first. Once he saw that it was red bowtie he went ahead and opened the iron door. As soon as he undone the lock, red bowtie’s corpse was thrown on him. Nasheed fell to the floor under the weight of the dead body. He looked to the kitchen and saw his shoulder holsters with his gun in it hanging onto the back of a chair. He’d hung it there when Vayda called him inside to fix the flat-screen for her.

  Paybacc stepped inside over Nasheed and the dead body, setting his sights on Vayda. Vayda was terrified. She got to her feet and ran down the hallway toward her bedroom. Damu stood up in the couch barking ferociously at the intruder. Paybacc attempted to go after Vayda but the beast rushed him. Paybacc lifted his forearm and Damu bit down into it. The Rottweiler jerked from left to right violently, trying to tear a chunk out of the intruder’s arm.

  $$$

  Vayda ran into her bedroom and slammed the door closed behind her, locking it. She got beside the nightstand and pushed it against the bedroom door. She grabbed the telephone off of the nightstand and punched in Pavielle’s number. Vayda was going to call the police but she knew if they rushed the spot that they’d snoop around the house and would eventually find the guns and blocks of cocaine Pavielle had stashed there. She’d just gotten her fiancé back from the cold grips of Death and she didn’t want to end up losing him to the system. So she decided to hold down the fort until her man was able to make it home. Pavielle had taken her to the shooting range numerous times, and she hoped that she’d trained well enough to protect herself and their baby.

  Vayda held the phone to her ear as she opened the closet. She parted the clothes and exposed a shotgun hiding at the back of it. She took a tin box off the top shelf in the closet and walked it over to the bed. She sat down on the bed, opened the tin box, and removed a box of shells. Next, she dumped the contents of the box out onto the bed and began loading the shells into the shotgun, one by one.

  “Pavy, you gotta hurry home!” she said in a panic. “This big guy has broken into the house, I think it’s Paybacc! I barricaded myself in our bedroom and I got the…hello? Hello?” she said into the phone hearing the line go dead. Then the lights went out. She tossed the phone aside and took cover beside the bed with her shotgun trained on the door.

  $$$

  “Floor this mothafucka, Paybacc is hitting my house, Blood!” Pavielle yelled to Gangsta from the backseat once the line had went dead on Vayda. He began reloading shells into his sawed-off. Gouch brought his AK-47 from off of the floor and into his lap, gripping it tightly. As soon as they pulled up at the house he was hopping out and laying everyone down he wasn’t familiar with.

  “Shit!” Gangsta mashed his cigarette out in the ashtray and put on his seatbelt. He adjusted the rearview mirror and mashed the accelerator, gunning through red lights and stop signs.

  $$$

  Damu still had a lock on Paybacc’s arm and was whipping his head from side to side wildly. Paybacc grimaced and bit the dog on top of the head, but it didn’t faze him. So he whipped out his banger and cracked him over the skull with it as hard as he could. When the Rottweiler still wouldn’t release him, he pressed his steel to the side of its neck and pulled the trigger. Damu yelped and hit the floor dead, tongue hanging out the side of its mouth.

  Paybacc took a moment to admire his handiwork. He turned to red bowtie’s corpse ready to finish off Nasheed and found that he was gone. He whipped around to the kitchen and Nasheed had just pulled his burner from his holster, which was hanging on the back of the chair. Nasheed whipped around with his gun at the same time Paybacc was lifting his banger. They pulled the triggers of their weapons in succession, each taking bullets from one another’s guns. Paybacc recoiled with each shot that he took and so did Nasheed. The two opposing factors wore expressions of pain as they carried on until Nasheed’s gun clicked empty. Even after his banger’s magazine was spent, Nasheed continued to pull the trigger of his gun. Finally realizing there wasn’t a shell left; he tossed his weapon aside and slid down to the floor, leaning against the chair of the kitchen table. Nasheed glared up at Paybacc as he bled out, his white button-down was cove
red with blood stains. It almost looked as if he was wearing a red button-down shirt.

  Paybacc stood erect staring Nasheed in the eyes with a smug grin. He knocked on his chest; it was covered by bodyarmor. The lights went out, but Paybacc didn’t even flinch as he approached his victim, who hadn’t taken his glare from off of him. Paybacc lifted his banger to the Nasheed’s forehead. The Muslim kept his glare on his would be killer as he spat on the floor. He wasn’t afraid to die. The Nation had prepared him for worse things.

  “Assalama Alaikum.” Paybacc said to Nasheed, which meant “Peace be unto you” before sending him off to meet Allah. Nasheed was slumped where he sat, the gaping hole in his forehead dripped blood onto the crotch of his slacks.

  Domino came running through the door with a banger in his waistline and a sniper rifle in his hands, ready to let something fly. Paybacc spun around with his gun arm erect and they nearly shot each other. Identifying who one another was they lowered their weapons.

  “I killed the lights, but I’m not sure if I got the phone-line in time.” Domino reported. “For all we know The Ones are on their way, maybe even Booby and the rest of them niggaz.”

  “Fuck the police and fuck Booby. His time is coming.” Paybacc ejected the empty magazine from his banger and smacked in a fresh one, chambering a round in the head.

  “Go around back to the bedroom and bust out the window, keep your gun on her. But be careful, cuz, she probably strapped by now. The bitch is a hustler’s wife. If Booby was smart he taught her how to use a tool. I’ll going through the door.” Domino gave him a nod before running out of the house to carry out his orders. As soon as he had made his departure Paybacc moved towards the master bedroom’s door.

  $$$

  Vayda sat on the floor with her shotgun trained on the door of the bedroom. She was locked, loaded, and ready to kill if need be. Suddenly, the doorknob sounded as it twisted and turned from someone on the other side trying to gain entree. Vayda braced the stock of her shotgun against her shoulder and let it roar twice, blowing chunks out of the door. The bedroom window was shattered by the butt of a sniper rifle, which startled her.