K'wan - Gutter

“You won’t be needing that, I am Anwar, prince of the Al Mukalla, I believe you know of me?” Anwar stopped, but didn’t back down from the gun. Sharell hesitated for a minute, but eventually lowered the gun and opened the door. The smiling boy-prince extended his hand and helped her from behind the wheel.

The bearded man, who was called Sharif, rushed to the backseat to attend Mohammad. He pulled him gently from the back of the car and placed him on the lawn. Ignoring his bloodstained clothes, Sharif placed his ear to Mohammad’s chest. He looked up from Mohammad to Sharell and asked, “How long?”

“A few minutes, if that,” Sharell said with tears now spilling from her eyes. Yet another life had been taken by Gutter’s personal war. Mohammad had sacrificed himself to protect her and she would make sure that he was honored properly. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said, barely above a whisper.

Sharif glanced at her, but didn’t reply. Instead he looked to Anwar with questioning eyes. Anwar turned to the stocky man, Roc, who shook his head in protest. There was some kind of conflict going on between the men, but Sharell didn’t know what it was.

“It was his wish and his right,” Sharif said defensively.

Anwar sighed. “Do what you must, Sharif, but do not let your promises interfere with your duties.”

Sharif nodded. He scooped Mohammad from the ground, and though the dead man clearly outweighed him, he did it as if he weighed little more than a child. As gently as a parent could, he lowered Mohammad into the backseat of a black sedan and got behind the wheel. “I’ll have someone here by sundown,” he called to Anwar, who didn’t bother to respond. The sedan backed out of the driveway, and disappeared into the night.

“Let’s get you two in the house,” Anwar said to the frightened young women. Noticing that Sharell was still holding Mohammad’s bloody gun, he offered to take it.

“No, thanks,” Sharell said, making sure a round was chambered. “I think I’ll hold on to this for a while.”

GUTTER PACEDthe front yard of Gunn’s house, sucking a blunt and swigging a beer. He had always been a notorious pothead, but it seemed like he’d taken to drinking more since he’d been in California. It was probably because of the increased stress he’d found himself under being back on the West.

Shortly after meeting with Trik he got a call from a frantic Sharell. Apparently somebody had tracked her to their hideaway in Brooklyn and tried to kill her and Satin. His boo had put a slug in the intruder, just as he’d taught her, but it had been Mohammad who had saved them. Gutter’s heart went out to the young soldier who had laid his life on the line for Sharell. She said that his wounds were pretty serious and doubted that he would make it, but Gutter felt otherwise, even though he didn’t say it. He knew things about Mohammad that no one outside of Anwar and Sharif did. In time, Mohammad’s body would be whole again, but it was more than he could say for the man’s soul.

Gutter wanted to hop on the next thing smoking back to New York, but Anwar assured him that all was well. Roc and two of his men were with her at a predetermined location. They would stay with Sharell until Gutter could get some of the homeys out that way to post up. She was as safe as could be, but Gutter was still uneasy about being away from her when she needed him most. He had to get home ASAP. He would attend his uncle’s funeral, but when everyone left for the burial he and Danny would be on their way to the airport. When he got to New York, heads would roll.

The next piece of business he had to deal with was the poor job Pop Top had been doing with the set. Not long after he spoke to Anwar, Hollywood was on his line. He was about to brush the late-night call off until Hollywood explained that not only was he in the emergency room, but Rob, China, and B. T. were dead. He wasn’t moved by B. T.’s death. In fact, he had often wondered at how trustworthy the man was. What hurt him was the fact that they had lost two more men… no, boys, on the front line. It seemed just like yesterday they were getting high together while Gutter lectured them about what it meant to be a true banger. He had no idea how he would face their mothers when it came time to bury their sons.

During the course of his conversation he’d also discovered why Major Blood was nowhere to be found. He had all the homeys out looking for him, but nobody was able to turn up anything. The reason for that was the fact that he was in New York killing Gutter’s men. Gunn’s death settled the old score, but more important it got Gutter to come to Cali. It was all a ruse to get the rooster out of the henhouse while the weasel slaughtered the chickens.

All morning he had been on the Internet, searching news articles online. The numbers of gang-related deaths and arrests were staggering. Newsday even added their two cents about the sudden growth spurt of gang violence that had broken out all over New York. Major Blood had been putting in serious work going at the Crips in New York, but Pop Top had made sure quite a few of theirs would be sidelined indefinitely. The war raged on with both sides taking heavy losses.

Gutter cursed himself for not being there to lead his army. He had successfully turned Harlem Crip into a solid organization, but they weren’t prepared to deal with a cat like Major Blood. He killed without thought or remorse and was always willing to go a little harder than the next man. People like Major Blood had no problem killing mothers or other family members just to get his point across. The question still remained: if he was there to kill Gutter then why lure him to Cali while he was in New York?

Immediately after speaking to Hollywood, Gutter called Pop Top and demanded to know what was going down.

“It’s blue, cuz, I got it under control,” Pop Top assured him.

“Nigga, how the fuck is it blue when three of my homeys got dropped since I been gone?” Gutter demanded.

“Man, B. T. was a straight bitch from the jump and as far as the other two… they were just casualties of war. Shit happens, man, ain’t no need to worry,” Pop Top said as if it were nothing.

“See that’s your problem, cuz, you don’t worry. You got a nigga like Major Blood picking off soldiers left and right and you don’t see a need to worry?”

“Man, that nigga ain’t special. He bleed like everybody else, Gutter.”

“Dawg, that’s what I’m trying to tell you, Major Blood ain’t like everybody else. This nigga is bad news. That little tit-for-tat shit you’re playing with him is not only getting us hot, but it’s getting niggaz killed.”

“G, it’s under control. Don’t trip, I’m gonna put a lid on it, no problem,” Pop Top said, getting tired of talking to Gutter.

“Muthafucka, is you crazy? This shit is all over the news! Son, you got the police on us, the sets on us, and if you fuck around the Feds might not be far behind!” Gutter barked.

Pop Top sucked his teeth. “Man, what you tripping for, cuz? You left me to run the set while you handle ya little family problems, so let me do my thing.”

“Top”-Gutter sighed-“I left you in charge because I thought you’d keep it running while I had to dip to the West. As soon as Major Blood popped up you should’ve called me and I could’ve gave you the four-one-one on that buster.”

“I’ll take care of him.”

“You know what, don’t even sweat it, Top. I got something more important that I need you to take care of. Niggaz tried to get at Sharell last night.”

“What? Is she okay? Who needs to die, cuz?” Pop Top asked.

“Kick back, man. I’m gonna be home tomorrow to take care of all that shit. Right now she’s good, Roc got her stashed away at my house in Long Island. I need you and some of the homeys to go out there and help out,” Gutter told him.