K'wan - Gutter

The shots sounded like thunder splitting the quiet of the night. The first of the enemies never even saw it coming when the bullet entered through his back and exited his chest. The other enemy tried to raise his own gun, only to have one of Rah’s men cut him down with an Uzi. The group tried to scatter, or plead, but Rahkim had given orders that no prisoners would be taken.

When it was all said and done, there were seven wounded, and five dead. As it turned out there were only two real enemies. The red-clad group was a part of a bowling league that held a tournament that night. The cashier at the bowling alley had identified the car carrying the shooters when the police arrived. Rah and his people were so high off the sherm that they were still sitting in their car, parked across the street and laughing hysterically when the cops found them. For his roll in the caper, the judge handed Rahkim a lengthy sentence.

“Damn, nigga, you trying to get swoll on me.” Rah gave him the once-over.

“You know how it is.” Gutter flexed. “Say, when you come home, man?”

“About three weeks ago.”

“You gonna stay out this time?”

“Nephew, I just did a dime flat. My days of going to the pen are long over,” Rahkim said seriously.

“I know that’s right.” Gutter gave him dap. “Look, I’m ’bout to go in here and see what’s up with your brother.”

“Prepare yourself, cuz. He’s in a bad way. I almost broke down when I seen him.”

“Uncle Rah, I done been to hell and back this year. Can’t nothing I see in there make me feel in no way.” With that being said, Gutter followed his aunt through the door.

When Gutter entered the room, his heart sank. It was a large space with various machines plugged into every outlet. Gunn’s hulking frame was laid out on the bed, with tubes running into just about every hole imaginable. His entire body, including part of his face was covered by blood-caked bandages. Gutter almost faltered as memories of his own assault rushed back to him. There were three nurses in the room. One who monitored his vitals and two more to attend to his daily needs.

Gutter moved timidly across the room and slid a wooden chair to Gunn’s bedside. He hesitated for a long moment, staring. Gunn’s body was as huge as it had ever been, but he didn’t seem the same. The Gunn Gutter remembered was animated and alive. The man before him seemed anything but that. Finally Gutter took the chair.

“Gunn,” he whispered. “It’s Kenyatta, can you hear me?” Gutter placed his hand over Gunn’s.

Gunn opened the eye that wasn’t covered, and blinked. He tried to speak, but winced against the pain of the breathing tube. Gunn nodded at Gutter and drifted off again.

“I see them slobs tried to put you down. They should know they can’t stop the unstoppable.” Gutter paused again, trying to find the right words. He wanted to tell Gunn that it would be okay, but in all honesty he didn’t look good. Gutter counted at least five holes, and only God knew how much lead he still had floating around inside him. He knew firsthand what kind of damage a bullet could do, bouncing around in your organs. “Don’t trip, family. Ya nephew gone ride for you, that’s on the turf.” He patted Gunn’s hand.

At some point, Monifa had entered the room. He didn’t have to turn around to know it was her. The scent was embedded in his brain. She placed a hand on his shoulder and before he could stop it, he placed a hand over hers. There was so much still unsaid between them. That would have to wait for another time. Seeing his uncle laid out like that only made him conscious of one thing: revenge.

“I STILLdon’t see why we didn’t kill him. I mean, that’s what you do, right? Murder?” Miguel asked sarcastically.

“Don’t get cute, muthafucka. I know what I’m doing,” Major Blood said coldly. “It like I told him: he’s a messenger. That whole snatch and grab wasn’t about dropping no bodies. They’ll be enough of that soon enough. I wanted to see what kind of niggaz I’m up against, so I’ll know how to move.”

“Yeah, but by not killing shorty, he’s gonna tip Gutter off that someone is after him,” Tito added.

“You think Gutter doesn’t know he has enemies?” Major Blood lit a cigarette. “He’s gonna chalk this shit up to Bloods tripping.”

“I’ve seen that kid hanging around Gutter. He not gonna like the fact that we touched one of his young boys. He’s gonna ride hard on the hood,” Miguel said.

“Well, that’s something we won’t have to worry about any time soon.” Major blew smoke in his face. “Gutter has his hands full at the moment. Now on to the next order of business; what do we know about this Satin bitch?”

“After she whacked her brother, they shipped her off to the nut-house.” Tito shrugged.

“Where?”

“I don’t know.”

“Get on that. Next”-Major counted off on his fingers-“divide and conquer. We got anybody posted up on that side of the fence?”

“Yeah, a lil nigga that’s got a hard-on for Gutter,” Miguel recalled.

“Set up a meeting with him. He’s gonna play an important part in all this.”

“And what about Pop Top?” Tito asked. “He’s Gutter’s new general.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard stories about that kid,” Major recalled. “Supposed to be a real animal.” He faked fear. “Fuck that nigga too. When the time comes, we’ll do him up real special.”

GUTTER STOODon the front porch taking in the California night air. Though there was a slight chill to it that night he could still smell the faint traces of salt carried from the Pacific Ocean. Seeing his uncle twisted the way he was had hit him harder than he expected. In Gutter’s eyes, as well as all who came in contact with Gunn, his uncle was invincible. He was a nigga that couldn’t be faded, but someone had faded him. Not long ago he had been in the same predicament, but Cross had resurrected him. Unfortunately for Gunn there was no cursed blood to heal his wounds.

“Sup, duke?” Danny-Boy stepped out onto the porch.

“Chilling, man. I’m just trying to get my head together,” Gutter told him.

“How’s ya uncle?”

“He all fucked-up, cuz. Them slobs did him in,” Gutter said, trying not to get too emotional.

Danny placed a hand on Gutter’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. “We gonna make this shit right, man. These West Coast cats is gonna see what this East Coast swagger is all about.”

“Spoken like a true protégé of the Soladine family.” Tears came out, sipping a forty ounce. “How you be, my nigga?” Tears asked Gutter.

Gutter shrugged. “I’m a’ight. It just fucked me up seeing him like that.”

“You ain’t the only nigga feeling some type of way about this, G. The hood is demanding blood.”

“I hear niggaz is nut’n up over this?”

“Yeah, these lil muthafuckas is bust’n ass left and right, screaming it’s for the homey. The funny thing is that most of them are too young to even know who the fuck Gunn is. All they know is that an O.G. got touched and that’s a good-enough reason to pop off. C.R.A.S.H been kicking red and blue asses because of all this damn heat these lil ones are bringing down. Then when you got niggaz like Blue Bird instigating it really doesn’t help.”

“I was surprised to see him inside. I thought sure someone would’ve killed his ass by now,” Gutter half joked.

“Nah, bald-headed son of a bitch has got more lives than a fucking alley cat.”

“Fuck the both of you niggaz, out here talking ’bout me like I ain’t got ears.” Blue Bird staggered onto the porch, which was now beginning to get crowded.

“Go ’head wit that shit, Blue. You know you stay starting some shit,” Tears told him.