K'wan - Gutter

All three of the men tensed as their marks came out of the barbershop, laughing together. The first was a tall kid with a chipped tooth, who called himself Vlad. The other was of medium build, with a wide flat head. His mother named him Jonathan, but his gang called him Pook. Both men were known for their triggers and their tempers, but when you went against a nut like Pop Top, neither counted for shit.

Pop Top was the first one to step from the vehicle and head across the street. He didn’t crouch, or try to mask his approach, he just walked. High Side walked a little farther north, before crossing Eighth Avenue. His stride was as calm as Pop Top’s, but his eyes made continuous sweeps of the two-way traffic. China brought up the rear, cuffing a shotgun under his Pelle leather.

“Son, I heard they having a locked door up on Webster tonight.” Pook tapped Vlad.

“Yeah, I heard about that shit. That light-skinned porno bitch is supposed to be taking on twenty niggaz in one shot.” Vlad rubbed his hands greedily.

The two men continued to walk and talk, never noticing the trio closing in from all sides. High Side approached from the north, Pop Top from the east, and China closed in from the south. Pop Top drew his weapon and held it at his side, still advancing on the unsuspecting victims. Those who noticed him, moved for cover. It was clear by the look of hatred in his eyes that he meant to do something wicked and no one wanted to be a part of it. Raising his black Glock 19, Pop Top fired on his rivals.

As soon as the first shot was let off, people began to scream and break in all directions, trying to avoid catching a stray. Vlad ducked for cover, while Pook was frozen. High Side didn’t mind this a bit, as it made his job easier. Firing his Uzi from the hip, he tore into Pook’s chest and face.

“Fuck you, nigga!” Vlad wailed, producing a.45 automatic from his belt. He began backing toward the shop, alternating return fire between Pop Top and High Side. High Side managed to duck behind a Volvo, narrowly escaping a bullet. Pop Top wasn’t that quick. He took a slug to the shoulder and went down. Vlad turned and boated in China’s direction.

China watched the whole thing unfold as if in slow motion. Pop Top had collapsed into the street, but he was still moving and there was no sign of High Side. He was alone to face off against Vlad who was charging right at him with a smoking gun. China fumbled with the shotgun and was finally able to establish some type of aim. He leveled the shotgun and pulled the trigger with all his might.

The shotgun seemed to silence every other sound in the world. The screams, traffic, it was all muted under the roar of the gauge. The force of the thing sent vibrations through China’s hands and wrist. The shot came up awkward, but dealt a crippling blow. China looked on in horror as Vlad’s thigh exploded. Chunks of meat flew in the air and smeared whatever they encountered. Vlad was down to one knee, but was still able to get China in his sights.

China saw his whole life flash before his eyes, as he stared down the barrel of the gun, which was pointed right at his chest. When he joined the gang, he never imagined it coming down to this. All he ever wanted was to belong, but he never considered the price. Now he was faced with a mortal decision. It was his life or the life of his enemy. China closed his eyes and pulled the trigger.

The gun rocked his small hands once again as he staggered back. For a moment, he kept his eyes closed, expecting to feel the hot lead piercing his body. Several seconds passed, and still there was nothing. China opened his eyes and dropped to his knees. Tears streamed down his face as he took in the measure of what he had done. It wasn’t the sight of Vlad missing his entire right arm, and part of his chest. It was the sight of the little girl who had been coming out of the bodega lying in a pool of her own blood. The buckshot had passed through Vlad’s arm and hit her square in the chest. She still clutched the bag of nachos she had been eating as her lifeless eyes stared up at China.

“Bitch-ass nigga!” Pop Top shouted, as he limped to the curb. There was blood leaking from his wound, but it didn’t hinder his shooting arm. He leveled his pistol and fired two shots into Vlad’s face.

“We out!” High Side shouted, jogging back to the car.

“Let’s go, lil nigga.” Pop Top limped past China. Seeing that China was rooted to the spot, Pop Top tried a different method. He grabbed China by the collar and slapped him across the face. “Nigga, unless you plan on spending the rest of your life in the fucking joint, you better get on your fucking feet and move!”

China looked at Pop Top as if he were seeing him for the first time. He looked from the smoking rifle to the two dead bodies, before he was able to stagger to his feet. He still felt like he was trapped in a dream, but he understood the prison time that came with what he had done.

SHARELL WASjust about to find out who the baby’s father was on Maury, when the news came on unexpectedly. A tanned gentleman with mouse-brown hair and almost perfect teeth was covering a gruesome homicide in Harlem. She could tell from the barbershop in the background that he was on 132nd and Eighth.

The newscaster went on to tell the story of a shoot-out that had taken place there not long ago, leaving three people dead, one of which was a little girl. Tears ran down Sharell’s face as a family member tried to console the grieving mother of the little girl. Touching her stomach, she knew she would surely die if something were to happen to her little one. The police suspected that it was over drugs, as usual, but something in the pit of Sharell’s gut told her that it wasn’t. She recognized one of the boys’ names and knew that the shooting was gang-related.

Even on the other side of the country Gutter was still managing to keep the chaos going in New York. She flipped her cell phone open to call him to deliver the news of what he had caused.

WHEN THEtwo-car entourage arrived back at the house there were people scattered in front of it. Some were standing around laughing, while others were getting in their cars and preparing to leave. Snake Eyes, Danny, and Gutter looked on to see what was going down. Tears stood out front, puffing a cigarette and looking highly irritated. Gutter stepped from the Regal and addressed his home boy.

“What it is, cousin?” Gutter rolled up to the front of the house.

“Man, I’m glad you’re here, G. Yo peoples is in there loc’n.” Tears sighed.

As Gutter listened, he could hear shouting from the partially cracked front door. More and more people began to file out of the house, all wearing looks of frustration or disgust. When Gutter spotted Monifa among them, he grabbed her arm.

“Man, who in there making all that noise?” he asked.

“Who you think?” She sucked her teeth.

In answer to the question, a woman came stumbling out of the house. She was tall and thin, with bleached blond hair. Her eyes were lined in black mascara and partially covered by a pair of dimestore glasses. She had yellow skin that had begun to splotch in certain areas from lack of care. Gutter looked on in shock, while Lil Gunn just turned his head.

“Ol thug-ass niggaz,” Stacia slurred, as she staggered out onto the front line. “Posted up in this muthafucka like it’s some kinda damn clubhouse.”

People laughed or stared at her like she didn’t have any sense, but Gutter just shook his head. It had been quite some time since he had seen Big Gunn’s baby mama, but from the looks of things she was still as wild as hell. Stacia had always been a pretty girl, and still was to that day, but those who knew her back in the day could tell she was slipping. Her clothes and hair were crisp as always, but she looked worn.