Chapter: PROLOGUE
11:29 P.M. January 2nd, 2002.
New York City, Back alley way. The Twan’s Bar.*Dusty slummy bar near the sewer entrance in “Twan’s alley way”. “Going back to the cali” by Biggie Smalls is playing on an old boombox in the backround.” (Skip to 1:38 in the song)He couldn’t help but shutter his teeth and shake his gun around the room. A brain melting situation just had only shifted past his mind. He can’t decide if the trigger should be pulled or just outright let go into his own abyss leaving the two behind. As he shifts his gun directly between the two men, he blinks cautiously and waves his hand around. “Ok hold up… Hold up!” Francis speaks within his tremendously nervous voice.
“Stop! Just shut the fuck up for twelve seconds! Just twelve seconds!”
As his breaths are heavily with tiny spits of sweat dripping down his forehead, he checks his surroundings with his eyes wide open. “I don’t know who you’re looking for or what you even want for that matter. Just letting you know you have your god damn backup because of your fuckin’ “Pinablo”.” Francis cussed at Teemster.
Matt and Teemster just stared at him. Teemster was never yelled at by Francis. In fact, Francis never yelled at anyone. He was too stoned or caught up to even get up for people. Having a Pinablo in his place was like having two races stuck in a room, they don’t know what to do. It came to the point where Francis really didn’t know what he was doing, instead of holding up his gun at the Pinablo; he pointed it at Teemster, thinking he was way too smart to pull Francis off. Even though the Pinablo had Francis’s head at point blank, you never know who is in charge of the gun the Pinablo had.
“Yo, yo hold on man… Just hit up Pokey man. He probably got somthin’ bout’ this shit.” Teemster said waving his hand in front of him trying to break the fight up.
Francis backed up into counter still keeping the Pinablo at gun point slamming and bumping into tables. He picks up the phone and struggles to dial the number as he holds the phone in his hand with two fingers. *POP POP POP* Sudden gunshots arise and swift past Francis hitting the wall two times and then hitting a bottle, breaking it as beer splashes out with the pieces of glass. Francis falls straight to the ground opening his eyes wide open hugging the counter, almost breaking the cord on the phone. He swipes his hand across his side pocket pulling his Glock 17 straight out and getting ready to blind fire, not checking the gun at all. *POP POP* *Click* goes the Pinablo’s gun. As Francis fires over looking over the counter, he pulled the trigger three times hitting the Pinablo’s chest twice missing his neck by an inch. Teemster jumps up from trying to pull the Pinablo back from shooting at Francis. Francis shifts to the right standing up shooting more jumping over the counter stopping his shooting. As Francis runs through, he uses his shoulder and pops out the door, running down the stairs, breathing the cold air in the alley way, looking left and right cautiously. Teemster runs out the door for him as he has the Beretta 45ACP in his hand.
“What the fuck Francy?” *Police sirens are heard not far from the alley way*
“Shit! Comon’ man, this way!” Francis yells out to Teemster running to the left side of the alley way, sprinting as fast as he can with his Glock 17 in his hand trying to holster. The police sirens aloud in the alley way as the lights blinker out throughout the alley way. “This is officer Lambert, currently 10-97, calling for back-up. Over.” “10-4” The radio sounds as the passenger door opens on the car.
The doors slam suddenly as the sirens sound louder as the police cruiser starts to roll down the alleyway. “Stop right there!” The police cruiser loudspeaker says to Francis and Teemster.
“Aww shit!” Francis says as he suddenly is almost blinded by another car.
The car had regular headlights, and looked like a BMW. “Get in, now!” says the man in the BMW.
Francis slams into the doors as he opens the door up. Teemster dives into the back seats as Francis backs away from getting into the car. *TIRE SCREECH* *SLAM*.
Francis dives into the wall as his eyes are wide open, looking over at the BMW rolling over as the police cruiser breaks almost every window on the car slamming directly into the BMW. Francis runs for his life down the side walk across the road as cars beep at him. Francis has too much to think of, and too much to even save his beating heart from looking at any more crisis’s to happen on that day.
What the hell happened? What the
HELL happened!?
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