K'wan - Gutter

“B-High? I thought that nigga was dead?”

“The boy has been laying low on the East, but it looks like the East done laid him low.”

“Church.” Mo-Mo shook his head. “So when we supposed to be hitting New York?”

“Shouldn’t be more than a few days. He’s got some things to tie up before we push out,” Reckless told him.

“Dude, I can’t wait to get out there to the East. They say the money out there is sweeter than anything we’ve ever seen out here. And let’s not even talk about the bitches. I hear damn near every bitch in Harlem got an ass like a horse. They ain’t built like that out here, Blood, huh?”

“A bitch is a bitch to me,” Reckless said, staring at his hands as if he had just discovered them. He loved to get high and analyze things. He had once spent an hour observing a roach he had trapped under a shot glass.

“Blood, that water got you straight tripping.” Mo-Mo laughed. The humorous moment was short-lived when they heard gunshots and screams off in the distance. Before Mo-Mo could say anything, Reckless was as sober as a judge and on his feet, gun at the ready.

“Fuck was that?” Reckless asked, eyes sweeping the block.

“Man, Bay and them niggaz probably tripping,” Mo-Mo said, not bothering to reach for his gun, which was lying next to his chair. Though he was also a killer he didn’t function as well under the influence as Reckless.

“Them dumb-ass niggaz is always making the block hot.” Reckless relaxed, but didn’t put his pistol away. “I’m gonna check that dumb-ass little nigga when I see him later on.”

“Kick back, Blood, you know how it goes in the hood.” Mo-Mo relit the cigarette. He had just lifted the forty back to his lips when the bottle exploded, spraying him with beer and glass.

“What’s up now, niggaz?” Rahkim roared, firing on the two young men. Rahkim was so anxious that he missed both targets, but he blew away damn near the entire wooden porch. Mo-Mo managed to fall off the chair while Reckless dipped behind a large flowerpot and returned fire.

The car came to a catercorner stop, blocking half the street. The homeys filed out of the car and moved to strategic positions from where they could lay Reckless or anyone else who thought to aid them. They were on foreign soil so it was free fire on all aggressors. Ducking and firing, Gutter found cover behind a sturdy oak, and assessed the situation.

Bullets flew with abandon, bringing chaos to the quiet block. It was almost as if Gutter had a front row seat to the premiere of his own movie. Danny was huddled against the car, clutching a shotgun to his chest. Gutter expected to see fear etched across his face, but instead he saw determination. His young protégé spun off the bumper and let a shell rip. Rahkim and Jynx took turns spraying the front of the house in an attempt to kill everyone inside. They had no intentions of taking prisoners. Seeing his homeys in combat stirred the monster in him. The promise of blood would finally be honored.

“WHERE THEfuck these nigga come from?” Mo-Mo shouted to Reckless over the gunfire.

“I don’t know where they came from, but I know where I’m about to send them!” Reckless snarled, firing from behind the flowerpot. He wished his cousin had been there beside him, but Mo-Mo would have to do… or at least he hoped. While Mo-Mo was only fighting for one life, Reckless was fighting for three because his girlfriend and infant son were inside the house.

Frustrated with the seemingly useless defensive stance, Reckless decided to press his enemies. When he saw an opening he darted out and tried to finish Rahkim, which would’ve equated to a dead enemy, had Gutter not shot him first. Reckless stumbled backward and crashed hard onto the porch.

“Nigga caught me,” Reckless gasped as pain rocked the whole left side of his body. He tried to press his free hand over the wound to slow the bleeding, but it didn’t help.

“Make for the pad!” Mo-Mo ducked and squeezed. The first shot shattered a car windshield, but the second struck Jynx in the thigh, spilling him to the concrete. Reckless slipped into the house, stumbling across the threshold.

“They trying to turn tail, nephew, let’s finish these cowards!” Rahkim shouted, advancing on the house.

Gutter’s movements were so swift that his uncle had to do a double take. He had heard stories while he was in prison about how efficient a killer his nephew had become, but seeing it with his own two eyes was like watching The Matrix. Gutter moved with the grace of a dancer, but the skill of a war vet. Dirt flew in the air from where Mo-Mo’s bullets struck, but he always seemed to be a fraction of a second too late to hit his target. Gutter faked left and went right, tossing himself to the dirt-filled front lawn, mashing the Glock’s triggers as he went.

Mo-Mo’s right shoulder exploded, slamming him into the door frame of the house. He was able to keep the grip on his pistol, but couldn’t find the strength to raise his arm. Half falling into the house, Mo-Mo tried to slam the door behind him, but Rahkim was on his heels.

“No, the fuck you don’t. I’ve waited too long for this here.” Rahkim kicked the door in.

People were starting to stir from their houses to see what was going on, but a short blast from Danny’s shotgun sent them scattering. In the distance he could see a group of young men gathering, surely the soldiers of Lime Street rallying to combat the invading Crips.

“Danny-Boy, Jynx!” Gutter shouted to them as he ascended the stairs. “Anybody come down here but ours, kill ’em!” he ordered before following Rahkim into the house.

Danny-Boy dragged Jynx up on the porch and helped him into one of the vacated chairs. His leg was soaked, but his gun arm was as strong as ever. Once Jynx was positioned, Danny dropped to one knee, resting the shotgun on the porch rail and awaited his enemies.

The inside of the house was a mass of chaotic sound when Gutter crossed the threshold. The television was tuned to BET and playing slightly louder than it needed to be. The smoke alarm blared as something left on the stove when the shooting started burned. An attractive Latino woman stood in the doorway of the kitchen chanting something Gutter couldn’t make out, while a child wailed somewhere in the distance. Mo-Mo tried to run across the living room, but Rahkim kicked him roughly in the ass, sending him bouncing off the wooden steps and onto the carpet.

“Man, why you fucking wit us!” Mo-Mo yelled. He was in so much pain that he couldn’t even roll for his pistol, which had slid across the room when he bounced off the steps.

“Cuz y’all fucked wit my family,” Gutter shot back, moving to where Mo-Mo was laid out.

“Blood, Gunn drew first blood!” Mo-Mo tried to explain.

“And we’re gonna draw the last,” Rahkim interrupted. “Now die with some fucking dignity!” There was a thunderous roar, but it hadn’t come from Rahkim’s gun. He looked at his nephew quizzically, as if he’d just realized the seriousness of what they were about to do. There was a neat hole in the center of his forehead that had just started to leak blood down his cheek. Rahkim opened his mouth to say something, but there was only the sound of him hitting the floor face first.

“No!” Gutter howled, rushing to his uncle’s side. Rahkim flapped around on the floor like a wounded fish. The blood had now begun to squirt from his head, soaking into the carpet below, while Gutter looked on in horror. Rahkim’s karma had come back around to collect on the debt. No longer able to see his uncle suffer, he finished him with a heart shot. Rahkim Soladine had taken his last ride.