by D Mann
“Yeah they’ll be there when we arrive,” Sharon confided. “I called up the Bag Brothers to see if they wanted to lend a hand,” DA stated. “They accepted.”
“I like dem’ dudes right there,” Pockets spoke, showing excitement. “Nigga dem’ muthafuckas legendary. I studied all their shit! They got some of the greatest kills in Compton, LA and Watts. Dem’ brothers da’ shit and you know they witdat’ Black movement.”
“Yeah I heard the rumor they started as BGF (Black Guerilla Family) back in the days,” Crafty inputted. “Say they were some of the coldest killers walking the earth.”
“Why they call themselves the Bag brothers though?” Dana questioned. “Besides it being their government names, it was said that if you had the misfortune of meeting those two, you better have a bag of money or you’d be getting the bag of death,” Sharon answered. “They’re legendary. We studied their profiles at the academy. They’re the poster children for crazed, psychotic killers. They even terrified the shit out of the cops and never had one conviction against them. Rumor has it that they once kidnapped an officer from the inside of a Police station.”
“Damn they were some cold dudes back then,” Pockets roared.
“DA, how you meet ‘em?” Dana questioned, again. “Shiiid! I had a bag of money for ‘em,” DA uttered, with a smile to the laughs of the group. “They wasn’t hitting me witda’ bag of death.”
The group’s humor cont inued until individual work took over again. It looked like the crew were preparing for a small war of some sort. DA interrupted the quietness to begin syncing their two way radios and watches.
“Dis’ some nice hardware right here,” Crafty said, gripping the AR-15 rifle and checking his sights.
“Yeah Pockets came through on that one,” DA spoke, giving his approval while he inspected some of the twin Glock pistols Pockets provided.
“My baby connected,” Dana interjected, proudly. “So we see,” DA returned, smiling and checking his own weapon. “The Asians got everything. It’s good to have few homies from China Town,” Pockets shared, adjusting the rifle’s stock. “Man this bitch sweet. I’m red dotting foreheads.”
The crew began loading the various weapons and extra clips, they weren’t going to be out gunned again nor caught off surprise. They spent the next few hours preparing themselves for any battle.
“When we take off to go get those files I wanna stop and pick up my girl B,” Crafty stated. “You wanna bring Bearilla in?” DA sounded off. “You wanna tell her no?” Crafty shot back. DA thought about it quickly.
“I guess she rollin’ then,” DA agreed. “But note how serious this shit is getting bruh, deadly.” “She’ll have me and her uncles to watch over her,” Crafty alerted, with a bright smile.
“Her uncles? Who the Bag Brothers?” Pockets questioned, in confusion. “Oh snap! That’s who she be talking about,” Dana blurted out. “She said she had some uncle’s wit’ the business.”
“Yeah. B is the Bag Brother’s niece,” Crafty admitted. “That’s my girl. And that big ass broad don’t fuck around,” Dana warned. “I saw her get off witda’ Desert Eagle like it was .22 revolver and she still the only woman I ever saw break a man’s jaw with one hit.”
“Yeah my lady a beast,” Crafty added, blus hing from his proud moment. “That’s why I need her rolling shotgun with me. She got my back.”
“I don’t know if we have a vest big enough for Bearilla,” DA uttered, in a low tone.
“I heard that shit DA!” Crafty alerted, quickly with a stare to match. “Just make sure you gotta’ vest and a two way radio for her,” DA advised, zipping his bags closed. “Hopefully one of those suits fit her big ass.”
“I already got her synced up,” Crafty informed. “And she can fit a suit my size ol’ busta…with yo’ stressing ass.”
“Then let’s get ready to roll out,” DA instructed, grabbing his equipment bag and making his way to the back door. “We can snatch up yo’ girl first then go get the Bag Brothers. Pockets what’s up with your crew?”
“They meeting us here. They should be pulling
up any minute,” Pockets’ answered. “I told ‘em to pack up the big shit.”
“Cool,” DA replied. The crew cleaned and packed up. They carried their bags outside to the new vehicles awaiting them out back.
The group gave a last minute inspection of one another before loading up in the three new Chevy Suburban’s, DA had specially ordered, modified and reinforced, waiting out back.
“Man these trucks are nice bruh,” Crafty spoke. “Bullet proof windows, armor siding and puncture proof tires. We rolling in mini tanks from here on out,” DA acknowledged. “Shit, what’s the use in having money if you can’t use it when you really need it.”
Pockets’ phone begin ringing. He pushed the talk button icon. “We in the back,” Pockets spoke, into th e phone before pushing the end button icon. “My people here.”
Pockets stood on the side of the building directing his crew towards him. “Everybody this is Bloodstone, Fingers, Mayhem and Brazy,” Pockets’ offered. “Brazy the one with that special gift DA.”
Dana was first to greet the quartet, she had already known them since middle school. The rest of the crew welcomed the quartet for the first time.
The four men looked like throwbacks from the movie Colors. It was easy to recognize that Fingers and Mayhem were Crips, and Bloodstone and Brazy were definitely Blood gang members, their fat red shoe laces were as bright as a stop sign.
Pockets ushered the men to the back of the truck he was driving and ordered them to throw their bags in the back.
The crew swapped their vehicles for the suburban’s parking spots in the back and took off for their next destination.
It took nearly an hour before the convoy of trucks arrived at Bearilla’s address. The group watched in silence as she made her appearance.
“Those steps sound like they’re screaming for help,” Pockets whispered, with an ear to ear smile on his face as Bearilla descended the front porch.
With every step she took downwards Pockets voice could be heard squeaking. Help! Help! Help! Dana and the four men couldn’t save themselves from immediate laughter.
“Leave my home girl alone fa’ she whoop yo’ ass,” Dana demanded, through near tears. “Shiiid! I ain’t fighting her,” Pockets admitted. “I’ll put a shell in her big-o-ass though. What she weigh? Every bit of two moons and a planet. Got me fucked up you think I’m taking an ass whooping from her. That’s too much of an embarrassment; too much of an embarrassment.”
“Don’t be scared blood. You just can’t let her fall on you,” Brazy added, causing the entire truck occupancy to fall in deep but quiet laughter.
“Oh my lord,” Sharon whispered, at the sight of Bearilla.
“Yeah she a big one ain’t she,” DA muttered, rhetorically while laughing under his breath. “Oooooh big ain’t the word baby,” Sharon responded, in awe. “How did she get through that door? Who makes her clothes?”
Bearilla waved to DA, Dana and Pockets as she headed towards the truck Crafty was driving. Bearilla approached Crafty kissing his puckered lips, as he leaned out of his driver’s side window. “Hey baby,” Crafty announced, smiling. “Don’t hey me! You was supposed to pick me up last night,” Bearilla scolded, quickly changing her mood as she walked around to the passenger’s side. “I’d be wrong if I flipped yo’ truck over and started a rumble huh? I can hear you crying right now, why you starting with me girl?”
“Naw. I would be crying about why yo’ ass so deaf though,” Crafty retorted, giving Bearilla his that’s a shame face, while she closed the door and squirmed around getting comfortable. “How you forget that fast when I just told you last night? I told you I was busy and wouldn’t see you until today.”
“I love you Mr. Crafty,” Bearilla stated, with another change of mood. “I was just missing my BooBoo.”
“Well yo’ Boo-Boo was missing his Bear too,” Crafty confided,
leaning over to kiss Bearilla. Honk! Honk! Honkkk! “Can we get a move on it or must we watch this episode of love and hamburgers!” DA yelled, urging the loving couple parked in front of them.
“I see DA bleeding again,” Bearilla spoke, flashing DA a fuck you finger out the window. “Yo’ homeboy stay on his period.”
“Yeah I love you too like steak and eggs,” DA returned, yelling out of his window again. “Now can we roll please? Thank you.”
“Ooh he such a smart ass,” Bearilla commented, strapping her seat belt across herself. “I should flip his truck over.” Click! “Damn this seat belt tight!”
The convoy was on its way again to DA’s liking. The Bag Brothers were thirty minutes away and DA was anxious to learn more.
Everyone in the crew was surprised when the address they pulled up to, to pick up the Bag Brothers was less than a hundred feet away from a local police station.
“Is this the right address?” Crafty asked, looking confused. “I have no idea. I see my uncles when they show up at my house,” Bearilla answered, confused herself.
DA, Dana, Pockets and Sharon all wondered the same question. Is this the right address? Everyone received their answer when the brothers emerged from their dwelling with one duffle bag apiece.
The brothers nearly favored twins their looks were so identical. The only visible difference was one was clearly taller than the other. They wore all black military style attire, boots, gloves, and long overcoats. Both sported afros capped by black Derby’s.
Their appearance seemed youthful for the age range of mid to late fifties, they looked as if they were in their early forties. It was obvious the two brothers were into working out, their physiques showed the signs of consistent exercise.
The smaller brother locked their door while the other stood nearly back to back with him, eyeing the block intensely. The smaller brother turned facing the convoy and with perfect synchronization the two marched down the stairs.
The brothers nodded their heads in
acknowledgement of DA in their fast paced march to the backseat of Crafty’s truck.
The taller brother opened the back door of Crafty’s truck and climbed in. The shorter brother turned towards the house, pulled a cellular device from his pocket, pressed a button, and waited a second for the screen to flash before climbing in the backseat himself.
“Wassup Bear?” The taller brother asked, extending his hand to Bearilla’s shoulder. “How you doing Uncle Kid?” Bearilla responded, laying her hand atop of his.
“I’m good,” Uncle Kid replied. “Wassup witchu’ Crafty?”
“Just maintaining Unc,” Crafty told.
The shorter brother closed the door and repeated the question. “Wassup Bear?” “Wassup Uncle Nap? How you doing? I haven’t seen y’all in about a year,” Bearilla interrogated, being jerked backwards in her seat as Crafty pulled away from the curb.”
“Shit I’m good,” Uncle Nap informed. “We been staying under the radar doing our thing, keeping current you know? What about y’all? What you and Crafty been up to lately?”
“I ain’t been up to shit,” Bearilla answered. “ But Crafty been playing spy games lately. Everything so hushhush and covert nowadays, I feel like I’m sleeping with a CIA agent.”
“Well you damn sure about to get briefed today because shit is way crazy,” Crafty cut back in, getting ready to catch the brothers and Bearilla up to speed on the events of late.
Crafty told the brothers and Bearilla as much as he knew about the impending mission as they now followed DA and Sharon along the freeways.
~ The crew arrived at what appeared to be some abandoned mass factories. There were several huge run down structures that created a maze of the entrance and grounds. There were twelve buildings in total, erected in groups of three.
The structures were connected by second and third story bridges that ran along the inside and outside track of the buildings. Each group of three buildings were called complex 1 through 4. Complex 2 was commonly referred to as the Central Factory.
DA was directed to the back of the Central Factory by Sharon where blew the horn. A large bay door opened and the crew pulled into the warehouse section of the factory.
Belinda, Mike, Ronald and Elliot stood ready to greet the group as they exited their trucks. Sharon made the quick introductions and ushered the group to follow while she toured the group around the factory.
The central factory housed several resting rooms on the third floor, as well as two full size kitchens on the first floor and numerous bathrooms on all three levels of the edifice. The crew would sleep in the central factory.
“This facility used to house one of the best video monitoring systems money could buy,” Belinda shared. “We’ve been able to get most perimeter cameras back online and most of the inner cameras were already working. We just had to jumpstart the system and now we can watch it all from second floor monitoring room.”
“Only bathrooms and resting rooms have no video surveillance,” Mike interjected. “For the most part, once we got the power running our sight was virtually everywhere. As long as no one was followed, I think we’ll all be safe here.”
The group chose the second floor’s enormous break room as its strategic war room. It had a movie screen that deployed from the ceiling.
DA was ready to conference.
Most chose to situate themselves before conferencing, it was possible they would be
spending a couple days or more at the factory if needed. Sharon demanded everyone took the next few hours to get to know each other, they would be working closely with one another from here on out. Everyone there fully understood the purpose and consequences of this gathering.
The crew was shown the rest of the facility and took a break to unwind themselves. Some of the group rested in the break room and indulged in idle chatter. Mike grabbed his bags and began rummaging through his belongings. Brazy in his stroll pass Mike to the water fountain spied a shiny object in Mike’s bag.
DA, Sharon, Crafty and Bearilla sat in one of the offices huddled up in discussion while the Bag brothers were in full stride with their rigorous workout routine when the sounds of an argument broke out in the break room.
DA and Sharon rushed in the break room to find Mike and Brazy being separated by Elliot as the rest of the group filed in the room out of curiosity.
“Dis muthafucka’ a pig blood!” Brazy yelled, pointing over Elliot’s shoulder into the face of Mike. “Check his bag blood, nigga gotta’ badge in dat muthafucka.”
“Everybody just calm down,” Sharon interrupted, attempting to take control of the growing feud. “Fuck dat blood! Check his bag! Check his gotdamn bag!” Brazy continued, still pointing in Mike’s face.
“You better move that finger boy before you lose it,” Mike warned, slapping Brazy’s hand and causing another brief skirmish to ensue.
The other men all moved in to separate Mike and Brazy whose fight had become a tussle. “He must be cool cuzz if he f ucking with Pockets,” Mayhem added, secretly enjoying the sight of a slight tussle between the two men.
“Pockets you know dis’ muthafucka a pig blood?” Brazy asked. “Naw. But I know she is,” Pockets answered, indicating Sharon. “And she fully witda’ business and those her people, so chill out homie; it’s all good. It’s all good, we united in cause.”
“Alright blood,” Brazy agreed. “But I’m feeling kinda’ muslim with all this pork in here.” “I’m in agreement wit’ cuzz on that one,” Mayhem added, to the growing resentment. “They supposed to be working with us or running background checks on us? You know I ain’t never been down with no cops cuzz.”
The entire group began to argue until DA and Crafty started over yelling the group to regain control.
“ Everyone here in this room is here for one thing and one thing only…Justice!” Crafty growled, glaring in the eyes of every man and woman present. “Let’s understand this shit for what it is right now! We not here to make arrest,”
Crafty continued, glaring at the unknown officers. “We here to kill the guilty and only the guilty. We don’t need ANY IDIOCY either! One dumb ass mistake can cause death for everyone here. Getcha’ shit together. This is the team and this is our mission. Anybody got a problem witdat’ speak now?”
Dana leaned over smiling and whispered in DA’s ear, “There he go trying to speak intelligent again.” DA smiled. “I got one question,” Fingers spoke, eyeing the officers with intensity and a mindset of an early cop killing. “Any of y’all trying to make captain?”
Everyone focused on the officers who the question was posed to. Not one officer took it as an insult, just a desire to know.
“You don’t have an idea of what we’ve been through. We just trying to make it alive another day son,” Elliot answered.
“We we’re all forced out on stress leave,” Belinda answered, pulling her pistol and cocking it. “Effective immediately.”
“Well since the fun and games are over now and everybody looks present and accounted for; let’s get down to business,” DA ordered, standing before his seat at the table. “One thing I want everyone here to know. You’re here because I asked for your help, not to run shit. We clear?”
The group didn’t say a word. They nodded their heads in agreement and began taking seats throughout the room. Sharon stood at the front with Ronald and began briefing the group on everything she knew the files stated. Ronald tossed a backpack on the table and started pulling items from the inside.
“Most of dudes that the files discuss are still alive and we’ve been able to find locations for most of them,” Ronald confided, searching through one particular file. “This dude here is someone we definitely wanna talk too. His name is Steven White, he was one of the reporters from the LA Times who quickly and quietly backed off the investigation of the Police League. I’m sure he has something to tell us. He’s a resident of
Hollywood.”
Ronald attached Steven’s picture to a cork board and placed another white man’s picture next to his. “This guy here is John Whitecloud. A five dollar Indian,” Ronald stated, before being interrupted. “A five dollar Indian?” Fingers questioned, with the look of bewilderment across his face. “Fuck is that?”