Cop Killas II

by D Mann

  DA was in full business mode by the time Sharon climbed in the truck and closed the door. DA shifted the truck into drive, pulled out the garage and floored the gas pedal racing along the streets.

  “Hello. Hello,” DA repeated, into his phone w hile he traveled northbound on La Brea Ave. “Got damn! I keep getting his voicemail.”

  “Calm down babe. Its gon’ be alright,” Sharon suggested, rubbing his shoulder. She could tell something had him bothered. “You’ll find what you’re looking for.”

  DA remained quiet letting his thoughts fashion his next move. He made a left turn and pulled into Roscoe’s Chicken and Waffles parking lot.

  “Let’s eat,” DA instructed, sliding out of his seat. Sharon followed and the two walked in to the establishment. A waitress escorted the couple to a table near the back, gave them menus and disappeared.

  DA scanned the restaurant’s patrons while in deep thought. Sharon fiddled with her phone for the next five minutes while she and DA waited on the return of the waitress. The waitress returned, placing two glasses of water on the table and began taking their orders.

  As the waitress walked away, DA took notice of a man coming directly down his aisle. The man was white, short, heavy set and wore those super dark cop glasses. The man walked passed DA and into the restroom.

  “You see this dude just walked pass,” DA alerted, tapping Sharon’s arm. Even with dark glasses on DA felt the man’s glare attempt to penetrate his soul. DA was a lot more attentive to the guy when he came out of the restroom, checking everything he could about the man.

  DA stared the short man down, watching the man as he walked out of the restaurant. DA thought that was kind of strange, he had never witnessed exactly where the man had come from and now the man was gone.

  “He looks ex -something,” Sharon advised, staring the man down as he came and left. “Ex-agent, exmilitary, ex-officer; he exsomething for sure.”

  DA chalked up the strangeness to him being overly suspicious. The news from Edward had spooked DA a little and DA chuckled to himself when he recognized it.

  Gotta get my shit together , DA thought to himself. He pulled his cellphone from its holster and began making calls again. DA’s irritation grew as the phone continued to ring. Again, there was no answer. DA took a deep breath trying to ease his mind, he hated unanswered questions. DA tried another number with the same result.

  “Fuck!” DA muttered. “You sure you’re alright? You’ve been pissed off since I got in the truck,” Sharon inquired. “I didn’t do anything, did I?”

  “Naw. I’m just tryna’ find these brokers,” DA replied, shifting his thoughts again.

  DA scrolled through his phone’s contacts and tapped the screen.

  “Hey wassup,” DA spoke, into the phone before going silent. The waitress came and placed their food on the table. She asked if they needed anything else. DA rudely hand gestured the woman away struggling to hear his phone conversation. The waitress frowned and hustled off to serve another customer.

  “Nothing!” DA repeated, in a quick muffled tone, taking another breather. “Yeah I holler atchu’ later.”

  DA placed the phone back in its holster and prepared to throw down on the breakfast that sat in front of him, Sharon was already forking through hers.

  “So what you have on the agenda for the day?” Sharon questioned, making light conversation as they ate.

  “Once we leave here, we finna’ snatch up Crafty and then I need you to do some hunting for me,” DA told.

  “Hunting,” Sharon questioned, with surprise written across her face. “For what?”

  “Exactly what you’re doing already; that police league,” DA mentioned. “Pockets actually found a news story from back in the day that proves the commission existed. I’m certain these police league and commission dudes ran together. Finding one could lead us to both,” DA confided. “You think you can use your connections to dig up something quietly?”

  “Yeah no problem,” Sharon answered. “I gotta source or two inside.” “Hey,” DA called, grabbing Sharon’s wrist to beckon her attention. “The key word is quietly. Two dudes already missing in action and I don’t need to worry about you disappearing too.”

  Sharon smiled at the suggestion that DA was concerned about her safety. She wanted to jump across the table and make love to him at that very moment. DA mustered up enough strength to crack a smile at the sight of hers shining so brightly.

  “What?” DA asked, with his smile still plastered on his face.

  “Nothing,” Sharon responded, locking eyes with the man she loved. “I just love you baby.” Sharon watched as DA blushed returning her sentiments. The couple finished their meals and DA left the waitress a generous tip.

  The couple were traveling to Crafty’s house when Sharon put down her phone and peered at traffic through her side view mirror. Her stare became intense.

  “We gotta tail,” Sharon spoke, alerting DA of a car following them.

  “What!” DA yelled, cynically raising only his eyes to view the car through his rear-view mirror. “Seven cars back, grey sedan, two occupants,” Sharon called out, identifying the suspects. “They’ve been with us for the last two blocks, turn for turn.”

  “We’ll see right now,” DA said, merging across the lanes and making a right turn at the corner. “Let’s see if they hit this corner wit’ us.”

  “They’re still there,” Sharon warned, spying their movements and drawing her weapon from her purse.

  DA turned another two corners before pulling into a gas station. He grabbed his Glock pistol and stepped out of his truck.

  DA stood behind his open door, pistol to his side waiting on their pursuer’s arrival. DA gripped his weapon tightly as he spotted the grey sedan turning the corner. Sharon stood with her door opened and gun in hand. She and DA both watched anxiously as the grey sedan turned the corner and continued to pass on by.

  Both occupants of the grey sedan turned their faces as they cruised by. DA and Sharon were focused like eagles on the passing car. DA in a hurried movement, climbed back in the car, racing out of the station.

  “You see dat shit! Both of them muthafuckas turned their heads when they passed us,” DA expressed, with conviction.

  “Looks like their trying to avoid detection,” Sharon recalled.

  “Oh well. They won’t be avoiding that shit today,” DA alerted.

  “What are you doing?” Sharon asked, fastening her seatbelt. “Following these bitches . See where the fuck they going,” DA admitted, smashing his accelerator to the floor and speeding through traffic to catch up to the other vehicle.

  DA managed to get three cars behind the sedan before the sedan accelerated, bobbing and weaving wildly in and out of traffic.

  The chase was on!

  DA gave pursuit, pushing his truck’s engine unlike ever before. “They’re getting away baby!” Sharon yelled, pounding on the truck’s dashboard. “Get ‘em baby! Get ‘em!”

  “I got these coward ass fuckas,” DA reassured, turning the corner slightly on two wheels and screeching tires. “They ain’t getting away.”

  “Oh shit baby be careful!” Sharon screamed, feeling the truck rock from side to side before launching forward.

  “I got it!” DA yelled, wrestling the steering wheel back into position. “That muthafuckin’ cracka driving the shit outta that car…but imma catch his ass.”

  “Damn, he is driving the hell outta that car,” Sharon admitted, watching with big eyes as the sedan nearly missed colliding with a big rig truck. “You see that shit?”

  “Hell yeah. I thought he was through with money,” DA replied, giving more horsepower to his engine.

  “You on ‘em baby!” Sharon said. “Try and get on the side of them!” The near accident between the sedan and the big rig truck allowed DA enough time to catch up to the sedan. The sedan raced along swaying from side to side trying not to allow DA to pull alongside of it. The two vehicles were now bumping each other frequently.<
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  “O’ this dude wanna play bumper cars huh,” DA uttered, slamming the much bigger Chevy Suburban against the rear quarter panel of the sedan. “Trying to make us crash, okay muthafucka you about to recognize.”

  The driver of the sedan nearly avoided being the victim of the Pit Maneuver. The sedan switched lanes to the opposite side of the street and rocketed forward into oncoming traffic. Cars went screeching into all other lanes causing numerous accidents to occur within seconds and right in front of DA’s truck as he barely missed car after car.

  “Again! Do you see this muthafucka?” DA screamed, glancing over quickly at Sharon. “He showing absolutely no consideration for public safety. Promise me that we whooping his ass Rodney King style when we catch ‘em.”

  “I promise baby,” Sharon agreed. “This is one of those moments when I feel like crying,” DA admitted, while navigating through the frenzy the white driver was causing.

  “Why?” Sharon asked, quizzically. “Cause’ I gotchu’ with me right now; I’m technically the law,” DA started. “And now I get to whoop a cop ass for running from me. Sweet irony always brings a tear to my eye baby.”

  Sharon smiled and screamed almost

  simultaneously. “DA watch out!” An old homeless man dragging a shopping cart full of his belongings entered the crosswalk of the intersection without a look or seemingly a care. DA’s truck swerved missing the homeless man by inches. The truck ripped the cart from the man’s hands obliterating it into small pieces, strewn across the intersection. DA’s sudden swerve sent him and Sharon uncontrolled over the edge of a curve and spinning in a donut.

  “AHHHH!” the two screamed, in unisons bracing for impact. Pedestrians went scrambling from the corner as the black suburban went careening into the street light located on the corner.

  Errrrrrrrrrr! Bammmm! The Suburban smashed into the light pole sending debris flying in every direction. The jolt bobbled the couple around inside the truck.

  People rushed over to see if the two were alright, attempting to snatch the truck doors open. DA looked over concerned, questioning Sharon about her physical status; she was alright. DA and Sharon looked on as the sedan made a left turn at the corner and disappeared from sight.

  “Fuck! Almost had dem’ muthafuckas,” DA yelled, visibly frustrated. DA pushed the door open and staggered out of the truck, he laid against it trying to re-gather himself. He was met by the old angry homeless man and a ton of swinging fist.

  “You destr oyed my home you son of a bitch!” The old man screamed, throwing punch after punch and kick after kick. “You fucking idiot!”

  “Calm down old dude!” DA yelled, grabbing the elder to control him. “I’ll take care of it! I’ll take care of it.”

  DA found himself tussling with the elder until Sharon came around the truck and announced herself as an officer of the law.

  “Calm down sir! I’m a detective,” Sharon advised. “We’ll rectify the situation.” “Goddamned right you’re gonna rec…rec…fix the goddamn situation,” the old man yelled, starting to let his anger subside.

  DA let the old man go and checked on the condition of his truck. The front was destroyed. DA called the tow truck service and Crafty to come pick him and Sharon up. He gave the old homeless man the nine hundred dollars he had in his pocket and promised that he would return to further repay the elder.

  Chapter 3

  Double O Negro Crafty and Pockets sat inside of DA’s new black Range Rover awaiting his return. They were parked in a deserted lot of what appeared to be old, abandoned warehouses.

  There was old rusted cars and car frames everywhere. Stacks of piled steel, eight feet high littered the old cracked cement sections. The weeds were overgrown and swallowing whole objects.

  The buildings looked dilapidated. Worn paint and broken windows gave it a ghostly makeover. The place had an eerie feeling that surrounded it and it was making both men uncomfortable waiting around. It gave Pockets the vision of a haunted steel mill.

  “He been in there for a while now,” Crafty stated, seeming concerned. “And this nigga out here in no man’s land hiding like a bitch. Anything could happen to a muthafucka out here and wouldn’t nobody know shit.”

  “I’m on the lap wit’ mines,” Pockets uttered, cocking back on the chambers of his twin nine millimeter pistols. “Anything look funny and I’m poppin’ til’ I’m empty.”

  The advice was subtle, but Crafty heeded the warning. He pulled his own pistol, cocked it back and laid it across his lap. He did his next pistol the same way.

  “My nigga ain’t outta there in the next three minutes; I’m going in,” Crafty warned, staring at the door DA went through. “I know he told you about that shit that happen to him and Sharon this morning.”

  “Just chill people,” Pockets urged, performing a quick scan of the surrounding area. “That’s a big ass dude, he can take care of himself.”

  “Yeah you right,” Crafty conceded. “Still…if the homie ain’t outta there in the next few, I’m going in.”

  “Fuck it. I guess I’m going in witchu’ then,” Pockets agreed. The men sat quietly for the next couple minutes surveying the area. DA and another man stepped outside and shook hands. DA and the man had a few more words before DA headed back to the truck. The man sat in front of the door watching the group as they readied themselves to leave.

  Pockets noticed the movement between the abandoned cars first and started to notify the group when the first shots rang out, smashing through the driver’s side windows.

  “It’s a hit!” Pockets yelled, grabbing the side of his face and falling out of the truck. “Aww shit! Pockets hit!” DA screamed, returning fire. He struggled as he scurried across the console and slid out of the truck’s passenger side door.

  Crafty fired shots out the shattered window as he squirmed out of the back seat on the passenger’s side.

  DA’s new truck took shell after shell. DA fell out the truck, looking around feverishly but couldn’t locate Pockets. Crafty landed next to DA as they took cover and returned fire.

  “Where the hell is Pockets?” Crafty screamed, firing off four consecutive shots.

  “I don’t know,” DA answered, firing off several rounds himself.

  “Who da’ fuck shooting at us?” Crafty

  questioned, emptying his first clip.

  “Don’t know that either,” DA replied, squeezing off more rounds. Crafty took a second to reload and noticed the man DA had been talking lying dead in the doorway of the warehouse. Crafty re-took his position at the back of the truck glaring for the enemy.

  “They knocked yo’ boy down,” Crafty told. “He laid out in the doorway.”

  DA ducked down glancing behind himself to see his associate lying dead.

  “Damn!” DA growled, returning shots to the armed assassins. “Where the fuck is Pockets at?” “They got us pinned down homie and I’m getting low on ammo,” Crafty yelled, through the continuous gunfire as he fired both pistols at their attackers.

  DA checked his ammunition, he had only one clip left. He and Crafty had to move away from the range rover; it was being shredded by bullets.

  DA knew the truck would n’t stand much more. He spied the area and saw their next position, a stack of steel piled about five feet high but nearly fifteen feet away.

  In a gunfight, fifteen feet away was equivalent to the hundred yards on a football field. “Crafty!” DA barked , already pointing in the stack’s direction. “We have to get to that steel stack over there. Get ready to cover me.”

  Crafty moved from the rear of the truck to the front, next to DA and took position. Both men were peeking over the hood ready to make their move when they noticed Pockets maneuvering the maze of junk cars at full speed.

  Pockets’ movements were gazelle -like as he launched himself head first over a rusted car frame landing in a frontal tug roll. His landing was a perfect 10 as he rolled forward to his feet, rose with both guns extended to full arm’s length and walked ou
t of the motion firing both pistols, killing two assassins by head shots.

  “Y’all fuckin’ witda’ wrong one!” Pockets screamed, at the two dead men. The commotion alerted the other three assassins who were now honing their guns in Pocket’s direction. Pockets rolled to side and disappeared.

  The assassins searched nervously moving in the direction that Pockets was last seen. With Pockets on the loose and the assassins hunting him, it presented the perfect timing for DA and Crafty to advance their own position.

  The two moved quickly, getting around to the backside of the assassins who were searching through the area of countless steel stacks.

  DA and Crafty split up to box in the remaining killers. DA decided to take a bird’s eye view of the situation and climbed atop of a steel stack. He could see along several rows as he moved along the beams. Crafty stayed on the ground.

  DA spotted an assassin and knelt, taking careful aim. He was just about to pull the trigger when Pockets emerged from between steel stacks snatching the gun from the man’s hand and giving him a full body spinning elbow in one motion. Pockets caught the assassin’s jawline perfectly sending him tilting like the Tower of Pisa. The assassin’s head caught the steel stack on his way to the floor making a Tink sound. The assassin was unconscious when Pockets fired a single shell into his head. Pockets nodded at DA and disappeared again.

  DA jumped off the stack and crossed two aisles over. He climbed atop another stack and moved along it quietly. He could see Crafty creeping forward right below him, searching every possible hiding place.

  Both men were caught off guard when gunfire rang out, spraying in Crafty’s direction. Crafty attempting to jump backwards, stumbled over debris and fell on his backside. It actually saved him! Crafty could hear the shells whiz pass his head as he was falling backwards.

  DA yelled out for Crafty and the assassin stepped from between the steel stacks, backing up as he took aim at the top of the stack. The assassin thought he had killed Crafty, he was hunting DA now.

  The assassin shuffled along sideways never taking his eyes off the top of the stack. It wasn’t until the assassin glanced down while passing Crafty’s body, did he see the Glock pistol in Crafty’s hand.