I know El-Z and his crew are gonna show up soon; when they do, I’m all kinda fucked.
I’ve got a piece of shit Brazilian automatic, four rounds in the mag. I ain’t Rambo.
I would run like a bitch, but I can’t. El-Z knows that I haven’t left Southside since I since I sold all that hardware out from under the Triad.
But about 5 minutes ago, I got an idea.
Two hours later, I’m on the train headed for D.C. Shaved my head, broke my nose to fuck with facial rec (rammed it into the fridge, hard to make yourself do that.)
Almost two hours ago, the Triad got a hot tip about who has their lost hardware.
An hour and a half ago, the neighbors heard three rounds go off.
An hour ago I called El-Z and told him he could come and get his money. I’m already gone.
After that, El-Z shows and the neighbors tell him they heard somebody get popped in my place.
About half an hour ago, I figure, the Chinese came to claim their shit and found El-Z and his boys tossing my place. Bang, boom. Tada.