𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐈𝐬 𝐀 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐎𝐧 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡

𝖙𝐰𝐨

"wait sir you forgot your—"

As the door shut behind me the rest of the cashiers sentence cut out, allowing me to enjoy the brief silence I was allowed before I had to step back into the Black SUV.

After popping open the bottle in my hand, I took a swig of the hard liquor , enjoying the burning sensation it gave me as it snaked down.

a bottle a day to keep the thoughts away.

that's my motto.

"you ready?" I heard from the drivers seat.

I turned and looked over at the man who sat in the seat, Jermaine, and gave him a bored expression.

If I left the store, I'm now sitting in the car, and I clearly have what I came for in my hand...then what the fuck does it look like?

He took note of my expression and spoke, "got it gang—not a fan of talking,"

Rather than speak I looked ahead at the road and he got the hint, finally beginning to drive.

Wasn't even that I didn't like talking, that was just a simplified way of explaining it.

I just didn't find the point in it most of the time, people were literally wasting their breath on saying shit that would be easier if they just did it.

I speak when absolutely necessary, it just happened that I never found it to be a necessity most of the time.

Shit was a chore, first I gotta inhale the air, then I gotta open my mouth to speak, then I have to actually speak, and depending on the length of the sentence—now I gotta breathe again.

nah, not when I can just do the action.

That's exactly why people know me for being silent now, cause of that mindset I had.

"did you at least scare that old nigga in 'nere—he better have our money on Friday or bossman ain't gonna be happy, 'specially cause he been late the last two times." Jermaine ranted.

I nodded in response which prompted him to speak again.

"good, good shit Red." He nodded.

My silence never stopped me from handling my business, I got shit done regardless.

It also didn't particularly even matter to me that I was taking orders from somebody honestly. Personally, I didn't have the desire to be running anything or to be responsible for anybody.

The only person I cared about was myself, and even then sometimes that shit was a chore.

"we gotta make a stop down the road at that Marlon niggas crib—by the way, bossman called me when you was inna' sto'." He added.

I looked over at him and raised an eyebrow in question.

"He heard that Marlon's been plotting against him, something about trying to turn some of the guys against him and start up his own lil shit." Jermaine explained.

My expression stayed the same as I took another swig of my liqour, but internally I was shaking my head. I knew for a fact that was a lie—or at least that it was missing a good portion of the truth.

I didn't know Marlon personally, I mean I've been around him just because I've had to do business with him before, but beyond that there was no relation.

Still though, I knew he wasn't that type of person, he was about as loyal as it gets. I mean they all really were, everyone that worked under the boss was dedicated to this shit.

I was in it solely for the money, the bonds and relationship ties meant nothing to me, I just never cared to express that. I guess in a sense I was dedicated to it too, difference was—I wasn't dedicated to a boss, I was dedicated to the bread.

It was fast and easy money, the other shit didn't matter. If he wanted Marlon gone then he was gone.

It wasn't like I could get many other jobs out here. I'm twenty four with a felony on my record and no real skills outside of hurting people.

No passion, no dreams, I just take it day by day—the money was what kept me going.

As Jermaine continued talking I nodded at his words and continued staring at the road ahead.

"On so real shit bro, between you and me, and I'm in no way questioning bossman—I just can't believe Marlon would do something like that to him," Jermaine added.

"They were like brothers, this shit kinda crazy." He added, "watchu think?"

I only shrugged in response, I don't care about that nigga.

Yeah I also didn't believe it but what does this shit have to do with me?

"course." Jermaine responded.

Thankfully he chose silence for the rest of the ride.

When we arrived, he pulled up to the curb, and after parking he looked over at me as he spoke, "you need my help?"

I cut my eyes at him and stepped out of the vehicle.

That reaction was purely because I found that question to be more insulting than anything. When have I ever needed help, let alone asked for it. He was playing with my intelligence.

The way I see it, asking for help is admitting weakness, and if people realize you have a weakness—the moment that they don't like you, they're gonna capitalize on that weakness.

That's just the way life goes.

After making sure the pistol in my waistband was loaded, I went ahead and walked up to Marlons crib.

It was normal for me to see people immediately pour into their houses as they spotted me exiting the truck. Scrambling around clumsily as they all tried to avoid looking in my direction despite both of us knowing they saw me.

I've gotten used to it by now, and like most other things, I didn't really care. If anything it came in handy most of the time.

People being aware of who I was and what I did, meant my reputation proceeded me—and I never had to worry much about my own safety.

After I stepped onto the porch, I knocked on the door and waited for a response.

Minutes passed before the door opened, but when it did—the face Marlon made when he saw mine could be described as nothing but pure horror

If eyes could fall from the sockets, his would've rolled right out and fell into his own hands

"n-no." He said immediately.

He already knew what was coming. everybody knew, if you saw me and you weren't told that I was coming—then I was gonna be the last face you ever saw.

It's why people avoided me, why they'd flee into their homes at just the mere sight of me, they knew what my face meant.

I guess that kinda makes me the grim reaper around here, wherever I go death just seemed to follow.

Without a word, or sense of urgency, I slowly grabbed the door handle and stepped inside of his house, calm in both my demeanor and movements.

He backed away from me in fear, dark skin almost paling as he did so.

"P-please bro—I-I haven't done nothin', t-there's gotta be a mistake." He shook his head.

There we go, that's what I like—the begging, this was one of my favorite parts.

As I slowly reached for the gun in my waist, he shook his head and began sprinting.

The running might have to be my other favorite.

I've been in his house before, so I knew there was no way he'd be able to make it to the back door from where we were.

Knowing that, I let him run—I let him sprint throughout his own house as he sought refuge from me, ironic isn't it.

This nigga was a prisoner in his own crib.

I made sure to shut his front door behind me and lock it before I began my slow walk throughout the house.

"...Marlon." I called out simply.

Another reason why I let him run, well in all honesty—why I let all my victims run for the most part, was because I liked the chase—it was like a hunt y'know.

If I'm gonna kill the nigga regardless, I might as well make the shit fun.

Plus, I feel like this way I'd make them dying more of a spectacle, the only thing worse than dying, is dying a boring death—I might as well traumatize them a lil bit first.

On top of that, you'd be surprised what dark and twisted shit people admit when they're face to face with death.

Rather than taunt him with my words again, I began to slide the mouth of my gun across his walls, creating a deep scratching noise throughout the house.

I really couldn't get over the fact that this nigga was hiding in his own house, what a bitch.

When I made it to the kitchen I stopped and looked around.

The first thing I noticed was the high chair that he had in front of the dining room table.

I didn't react, but I will admit that made this a little different. I had one rule...no kids.

There was a line that even I wouldn't cross, and that was one of them—I'm not hurting kids.

I'm assuming a child wasn't here though, if they were I wouldn't even have been sent on this job, the man I took orders from knew my rule—after all, I only had one.

Seconds later I turned around and headed upstairs, he wasn't in the kitchen, I already knew that.

After slowly making my way upstairs, I came to a halt at the top and looked around.

My eyes eventually landed on his bedroom, and moments later I approached it before coming to a stop in front of it.

I grabbed at the doorknob and twisted it but it was locked as expected. That only meant that I had to ram it with my shoulder one good time to send it flying open.

To my surprise though, it wasn't just his scream that I heard when the door came flying down, it was a female scream that accompanied it.

I looked between them both in confusion before the realization set it.

"take her!" Marlon spoke, pushing the woman ahead of him.

damn...

"Are you fucking kidding me!" The woman screamed as tears streamed down her face.

"bitch it's me or you!" He spoke.

"I'm the mother of your kids!" She argued.

"that was your decision." He shook his head.

I blinked at them for a moment then held up my gun, which made them both freeze.

"W-wait!" The woman spoke, walking over to me slowly.

"M-maybe we can—can work something out," she then suggested.

Again, I was confused, then as her hand reached down at cupped my crotch I realized exactly what she was getting at.

I only stared at her in response, hoping to make her feel as dumb as she looked right now.

Sex did not influence me what's so ever... never has. Whole reason I've never done it, it's just never been something I had the desire to do.

Without a second of hesitation, I placed the gun under her chin and pulled the trigger.

Shorty didn't even have time to react , she was here one second and gone the next.

"SHIT!" Marlon yelled, covering his mouth from both the scene, and in disbelief.

Blood had sprayed over my face from shooting her, forcing me to take a second so I could wipe it from my vision.

"Y-you're fucking crazy nigga—w-what the fuck!" He cried.

This nigga was doing all of that when he was the one that pushed his lady in front of him...

"Lunatic!" He spat, throwing a shoe at me.

The article of clothing only hit my chest and bounced off as I got closer to him.

Everything he threw would just bounce off as I continuously stalked him.

Eventually though, he ran out of room—and he soon found himself hugging his knees in the corner, stating silent prayers to whoever he believed in.

That's another thing I never got, so many people would start praying when they found themselves in this position.

Why ? Whoever was up there clearly wasn't listening, I mean they didn't listen to the others that had tried the same thing after coming face to face with me.

Prayers, Prayers, and more prayers, and yet the only saint in the room was me.

"red...whatever he's claiming I did...I didn't." Marlon spoke, clearly exhausted and desperate.

I looked down at him for a moment, then I replied.

"I know..." I told him, because in all honesty I really did.

The man I took orders from had a tendency to backstab people, he was a snake, and I feel like that was obvious to everybody, they just didn't have the balls to do anything about it.

"real—"

One bullet through his temple cut both his sentence and his life short, leaving me alone in a room with two bodies that I would leave to be somebody else's problem.

For a couple seconds after I shot, I watched as his pupils dilated in front of me, and the life left his eyes.

Nothing, I felt nothing.

I don't remember the last time death made me feel anything, hell I don't even remember the last time anything made me feel something.

For the last couple months, after killing somebody I would usually take a couple seconds to just stare, not because I liked seeing it, not because it gave me some sick satisfaction, but because I was desperately trying to see if I'd feel something again.

Safe to say I never did.

I'm not sure if I've desensitized myself or what, but the shit really didn't phase me anymore, or at least the alcohol wouldn't allow it.

After my work was done, I left the lifeless bodies where they were, and headed to the bathroom to clean off all the debris.

That within itself took me around 30 minutes because I refused to leave a spec of Red on me.

Plus, it wasn't like the police were coming, they never came, they knew better.

Everybody in this city knew better—how the hell do you think it got it's name?

When I finally left the house, I returned to the passenger seat and sat back against the chair, staring straight ahead as I waited for Jermaine to begin driving.

"Did you—"

I cut his words off when I pointed to the road, and immediately he followed my order.

As usual, to drown it all out—I took a swig of alcohol. And the usual numbness that was in my heart only amplified as liquor burned inside me

The rest of the drive was quiet, Jermaine and I had a few more stops—but none that required my services, so I sat in the car.

Later that day, around nightfall, their bossman called a meeting, which meant that no matter what any of us were doing, we had to be present.

"—nigga I don't care about no lick, yo ass better be at that damn warehouse in five minutes!" Jermaine yelled over the phone, stressing himself out over his little brother like he usually did.

That little boy never listened, always found himself in situations that Jermaine would have to get him out of.

Even though he was nineteen, to me he was still a little ass boy, cause that's what he acted like

Always robbing random people for quick money, or just for fun. I didn't like him, I found him annoying if anything, Niggas like that didn't need to be shot they needed to be fought.

It didn't take us long to make it to the warehouse, and when we did—everyone entered and stood while waiting for instructions.

This warehouse was like our meeting spot I guess, it was so many of us that it was the most ideal place for it.

Yeah, it was that many.

That's why the police knew better, because here, they were the minority.

Honestly sometimes it felt like America had completely forgotten we were apart of the country. It was like we were on some flint Michigan type shit, just completely ignored.

Here, the King of the city didn't wear black or blue, he wasn't apart of the law, he was the law.

He didn't scare me, especially because I was the one enforcing his law most of the time.

Critically, truthfully, I saw him for what he was—a fraud.

His crown might as well be made out of snakes and knives because the only thing he seemed good for was stabbing people in the back.

I wasn't worried about him doing that to me though, I feel like there was this unspoken idea between us that I knew far too much for him to make any move against me. Plus, I was the best he had when it came to getting shit done—he needed me.

His name was Saduj. (Sah-doo-je), yeah I know, it's...different—though most people around here just called him bossman.

The moment he appeared the chatter died down and everyone prepared for him to speak.

I took my usual nonchalant stance and crossed my arms as I waited for him to begin.

" 'preciate yall for coming out tonight," he started.

"—I'm not gonna take too much of your time, there's just something I wanted to let you all know." He added.

"As you all know—I ran into some conflict with a mob boss residing in Virginia." He spoke, "things came to blows a while back and that only made the situation worse."

"—now I doubt any of them would be bold enough to show their face here—not in my kingdom. But I did want to warn all of you just in case you decide to take any trips outside of the city—especially down south." He spoke

Nigga that's it...could've sent a text and said the exact same thing. See what I mean when I say the talking shit be unnecessary.

"Secondly," he started, "I wanted to give a shout-out to my main man—Red." He stated.

Visibly I didn't react, I didn't move, I didn't blink, I just stood still with my arms crossed like I'd been doing.

As everyone turned around and looked at me I kept my bored expression and looked ahead at Saduj.

"Whenever there's a problem, he handles it, where there's an issue—he resolves it. He should be what you all strive to be...reliable." Saduj spoke.

Jermaines brother, the hard headed one smacked his lips at that, and of course Jermaine nudged him to keep him quiet. Had their bossman saw that, Jermaines brother would've been the next issue I had to resolve.

"my right hand man— we appreciate you brother." He nodded.

I only nodded in response, just because it would look disrespectful to everyone if I continued to just stare at him blankly.

False kings needed false respect, it is what it is.

As long as the money kept rolling in, it didn't matter to me.

I'd kill anyone.

I'd hurt anyone.

I'll choose money and myself over anyone as long as I can because at the end of the day, what else matters. I don't care if I was right, I don't care if I was wrong, I only cared that I got payed for it.

☯︎ 𝖍𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 ☯︎