Stormz on the Horizon

The Black Sheep

Thursday

Mica knew he'd been late for work.

He purposely took graveyard shifts as instructed by his new superiors.

He'd never been a fan of hard labor. He wasn't lazy in the least, he just didn't want to do anything if he wasn't shooting hoop or playing 2k, at his twenty two year old age. However, he wasn't left a choice when he was forced to take on this construction job. What most speculated about the young Black men clocking in to work on Lexington road—which had always seemed to be closed off—from dusk til dawn was quite true. Arabia has made headlines for having awful thunderstorms since before anyone could remember. Lightning always struck, waters always flooded, and strong winds always made Lexington road a mess. It was consistently a hazardous war zone of debris, tar, and machinery. No one had business on that road besides the construction workers year-round. It was a perfect way to get away with crime, for those who were smart. It only made the most sense.

Prime Souljas didn't get dirty. At least not in the sense of literal red dirt on the ground. They didn't handle business and leave chaos behind, like Baby D's crew. Manslaughter always wanted people to know who they were, but they weren't stupid. They were working class people like everyone else. Baby D didn't give a fuck if all you could snag was being a cook flipping Big Macs. You won't eat just off of him. It's always been that way. Although their commitment to his desires because of that fast money might guarantee unquestionable loyalty, he'd like for them to hustle in other ways. Not to mention, a steady-paying, consistent job was a good alibi for a nigga who might be suspected to be apart of illegal activity. Sitting up in trap houses all day with hoes was the DUMBEST shit Dorian would ever allow. It was pointless to him. That was Soulja behavior.

The old heads under Baby D's dictatorship have the liberty to make money independently in whichever other way, as long as it doesn't disrupt the course of what he might have going on. Or as long as their heads don't get too big, especially while he's locked up. And in complete opposite positions are the new boys on the block. "Airheads" is what Baby D called them. They were sweet and flimsy—he'd say. It was a fitting name seeing as none of them could handle the first thing he asks of them once they claim to sacrifice the lives they once were living.

Get the construction job. You're guaranteed to be hired. The shifts are flexed. Work as asked and do what he tells you. They think it ends there. They thought it couldn't get any more simple than, "work and you can run the product for this money." It wasn't.  They don't have the job for no reason. Once they're told to take that graveyard shift to "take out the trash", sometimes alone, they run home crying. They hadn't even touched an ounce of product and won't ever if they can't put some fuck nigga in the ground. It wasn't like they had to kill 'em. Sometimes. They can walk away, but they never get far. Death is kinda the only way outta there.

Micah Davenport was on his fourth body in the last couple of months. Or so, the crew thought he was.

Mica came around at the same time as a few other boys ready to Baby D's bidding. All of them had their reasons. They had child support due, may be fiends, money hungry, or straight up dick riders. None of which Mica related too. As required, they took their respective positions working for the city's construction. They all applied one after the other to minimize suspicion, but eventually they'd began working together more often than not. They floated in employees all the time, these storms were frequent and did severe damage. They'd been there long enough and it became easy for the company to trust them, so much so that the supervisor wasn't very present, especially in the middle of the night. He's just a lazy fat old white man who gave not one damn. Baby D took advantage of such trust by getting his airheads to put his bodies in the ground while they were on the clock. No one was around, there's no cameras, only them, the woods, and the dark. It's worked up to now so why stop? He wasn't there to witness it, but after hearing that Micah didn't even hesitate when he was tasked to bury someone traitor-ass-nigga, he'd been impressed with him, at least to Micah's knowledge. The others seem to tuck their tails when they see the absence of life in some nigga's eyes. He didn't. And they didn't like him because of it. He was closer to being able to make the fast money they dreamt of, they weren't. And that wasn't even what he wanted. They should be angry at themselves for lacking the balls. Eventually most of them took off, knowing Micah outshined they weak asses.