Wrath of a Monster

by T J Edwards

  “Long as I can use that laptop you got right there, I can handle my school business online. I don’t feel like going no where today. I just wanna chill. So I’ll be here when you get back. I need some more of that pipe anyway.” She licked her lips. I sucked her right nipple into my mouth and pulled on it.

  “Alright then. I’ll fuck wit ‘you in a minute. Keep my doors locked and don’t answer them bitches for nobody. You’re more than welcome to fuck wit’ that raw, just be careful.” She sat all the way up and wrapped her arms around my neck, kissing my lips.

  “I should have been fucking with you a long time ago. You’re a fucking boss, Showbiz. That’s hot.” She sucked my lips into her mouth and squeezed my dick. “Hurry on back so I can get right.”

  ***

  When I got to Veeto’s crib out in the Bronx, he met me outside where he sat on his stoop with ten Blood killers posted all around him. I pulled up and he hopped off of the stoop. He came to my passenger’s window, tapping on it. I rolled the window down. “What it do, Blood?”

  “Yo, I got that nigga, his bitch, and their kids zip tied in the studio down stairs. You need to make a mockery of this fuck nigga. Like I said before, the whole Harlem is watching and you already know that Harlem is the epic center of New York when it comes to this drug shit. Muhfuckas know what it is. They know that he knocked off Showbiz, Vega. Now you gotta let them know that that shit can’t ride. I got plans for you, kid. You can start your own revolution. I’ll stand behind you one hundred percent, me and my thousand plus Bloody Gorillas. Let’s roll inside and make this shit happen.”

  I nodded and jumped out of my whip with murder on my mind. I didn’t like this nigga making it seem like I needed him in order to catch and fuck over Wetto. I was my own man. I didn’t need no other nigga to validate me or my gangsta. I was Showbiz muthafucking Vega! Soon to be King of the Vegas. If Veeto didn’t watch himself, I was coming for his muthafucking slot.

  When I got downstairs to the portion of the building Veeto had turned into a makeshift studio, I saw Wetto, his baby’s mother, and their two daughters. They were tied to a chair with zip ties around their wrists and ankles along with rope. Me and Veeto stepped into the booth, while the rest of the Bloods gathered around the glass outside of the studio. Not only was Wetto and his family bound to chairs, each of them had black hoods over their heads that looked like pillow cases.

  I snatched Wetto’s tape off so hard. He slowly opened his eyes, and when he saw me, they got big. He started to murmur into his duct tape. I rolled up the sleeves on my fatigue hoodie, before cocking my right hand back and slapping him across the face as hard as I could. I almost fell over from slapping him so hard. He hollered into the tape as blood poured out of his nose.

  “Bitch ass nigga, you had the nerve to fuck over me when I was feeding yo’ goofy ass and all of yo’ niggas. Where the fuck is yo’ loyalty?” I hollered and punched him right in the mouth. He fell backward in his chair, still bound. Veeto rushed over and picked him up.

  I stripped the tape off of his mouth. “ Nigga explain yourself!”

  “Yo, just leave my family out of this shit. I ain’t never came at your people on some lethal shit. Them all my little girls, man. I don’t give a fuck what you do to me, just leave my babies alone.”

  Smack! Bam!

  I smacked the shit out of him across the face, then punched him straight in the nose, breaking his shit. The nose bone turned sharply to the left and his eyes puffed out, turning blue.

  “You ain’t got the space to save nobody’s life, nigga. You about to watch me kill every member of your family right in front of yo’ punk ass. I don’t give a fuck what you or nobody else thinks about.” I stepped to my right and pulled the black hood off of his ten-year old daughter and grabbed her by the throat. She screamed into her duct tape and wiggled as best she could in her chair.

  “Yo, come on, Showbiz. Not my kid, man. What happened was between me and you. It ain’t have shit to do with our kids. Let them walk and you can torture me for all I care.” He struggled against his binds with a mug on his face.

  I scoffed and looked into the crying face of his daughter. Her eyes were red. Her hair curly and wavy and looked as if she’d just gotten it done. She shook her head from side to side as if she was begging me to have mercy on her.

  “Little girl, what’s about to happen to you is all your daddy’s fault. He crossed me and because he has, you’re forced to pay the consequences with him alongside of your mother and other sister. No hard feelings, okay?” I pulled off the black hoods of his baby’s mother and other daughter. All of them were crying. “Everybody, pay attention.” I bit into my bottom lip and brought my fist forward into the little girl’s face over and over again.

  Wham! Wham! Wham! Wham1 Wham!.

  I could feel my knuckles crushing into her facial bones. I could feel them crack and cave in as my knuckles continued to pound into her again and again. “You. See. What. The. Fuck. You. Made. Me. Do. Weeto? Huh? Nigga?” I hollered, punching her harder and harder. Blood began to pop around my fist. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as the sockets were shattered. I kept on punching into soft tissue, no longer feeling any bone.

  “Alright, muthafucka! Alright! Stop! She’s just a little girl!” Wetto hollered, going crazy to try and break his bind with no success. “Stop, you son of a bitch!” he hollered in Spanish.

  I continued to punch and beat her head in senseless until she was bleeding out of the sockets of her eyes and nose. I wanted to cause him as much pain as I could. I knew watching somebody kill your child in front of you was the ultimate pain that a man could endure. Especially with the child being a little girl. That had to suck. I could only imagine.

  I took a step back and kicked her straight in the chest, knocking her backward to the floor. Before grabbing the hair of her twin, I pulled out my pistol and placed it on safety. Then turned it upside down. “One down, one more to go, fuck nigga. This what you asked for. This what happens to any nigga who cross Showbiz Vega! Any muthafucka. It’s Harlem, son!” I raised the gun over my head.

  “Please, Showbiz. Look, man. I’ll pay you to spare their lives. I’ll give you my whole stash. Just let them walk, Dunn!” Wetto shouted with sweat and blood dripping from his face. I lowered my gun and looked over my shoulder at him. “How much are we talking?” The numbers better be all the way up.”

  “Six mill in cash, fifty kilos of heroin. You can have it all and still take my life. Just let my people live, Blood. It’s all I ask. My dying wish.” He sniffed loudly.

  I turned all the way around to face him. “Oh yeah, that’s yo’ dying wish, kid? Well, where is all of this treasure that you speak of?” I stood in front of him, ready to slam the handle of my banger up against his forehead.

  “My crib out in Staten Island. You can send one of your goons to retrieve it and everything. That shit ain’t gon’ do me no good if I’m dead, is it?” He looked over at his baby mother, and I noted his face softened. He looked sick.

  “Yo,’ Blackie. Come here, Son.”

  Blackie made his way through the doors of the studio. “What it do, kid?” He gave me a half hug and shook up wit’ me.

  “Yo, this bitch nigga say he got six million dollars in cash and fifty kilos of my shit stashed in his tip out in Staten Island. I need you to take that trip. Snatch that work for me and when you get back, I’ll make sure I take care of you just like before. Take two of the homeys you trust wit’ you.”

  I didn’t know if I really trusted Blackie as much as I was making it seem, but I had to have somebody go snatch up that package. I was itching to kill Weeto’s ass. I mean way more thirsty than I had ever been to kill somebody before in my life.

  “Yo, I got you, son. I’ll handle this shit ASAP and report back to you as soon as that’s a touchdown.”

  “A’ight, son. Give money all the info that he need so he can make that happen,” I ordered Wetto, kicking his inner ankle.

  Blackie held out his
phone while Weeto gave him all of the info he needed in order to snatch up everything. When he got it all, he grabbed two of the other Blood niggas and they left out the back of the brownstone on a focused mission.

  “So you gon’ let them go, Showbiz? I mean, son. Can you give me your word that you gon’ let my baby mother and daughter go? You’ve already taken one of their lives. We should be even because I never touched a hair on your people’s head and I never would have. These woman and kids ain’t got nothing to do with the shit we’re beefing over. They’re innocent.”

  I sat back in my chair and smiled at him. Looked at the clock on my phone. Blackie had been gon’ for a little over an hour. I’d give him about two before I looked forward to him getting at me. “Nigga, once you hit me, you took food out of my family’s mouth. You had the nerve to bumrush my bitch and rub all against her in her shop and shit. Forced her to do yo’ bitches hair for no charge. Aw, nigga you brought families into this shit. That’s why this lil’ bitch laying on the floor dead. Look at her, bleeding all profusely and shit. Sad, ain’t it.” I curled my lip at him and looked up at Veeto. “Fuck wrong wit this nigga, Blood?” Veeto shrugged his shoulders.

  “You know how niggas get when the heat is on. They try and get a muhfucka to see all kinds of logic that ain’t there instead of taking that shit like a man. Typical fuck niggas. Nah’ mean?”

  Wetto sucked his teeth and mugged Veeto. “Nigga, long as I been in the game, I ain’t never heard about you putting no work in for yourself. You the type that hide behind monsters because you afraid of the dark fuck nigga. I ain’t never did shit to you, so for you to send your hittas at me on this nigga’s behalf is blowing my mind right now. I sent some of the dope I took from him to you. So you ain’t clean in all of this. It ain’t a clean hand in this room.”

  Veeto stood up and scrunched his face. “Bitch nigga, I told the homey as soon as I found out the lil’ business I gave you in regards to his heroin. I ain’t know you snuck him for it at first, but once I got wind of it, he was the first number I called. Don’t try and use that divide and conquer strategy, my nigga. That shit ain’t gon’ work.

  And since you ain’t never seen me get down before, how does this work out for you?” He pulled an Army knife out of the holster inside his Marc Jacob Coat pocket, walked behind Wetto’s daughter, and pulled her head backwards, slicing her throat from one ear unto the next. Blood skeeted across the booth’s carpet. He threw her forward. She landed on the carpet right by my feet with plasma leaking out of her rapidly.

  Weeto threw up into his lap. “You sick muthafuckas! I’ma kill both of you niggas one day!” His baby mother was screaming into her duct tape. Tears ran down her cheeks, snot dripping out of her nose. She was shaking like crazy. Her face red like a stop sign. Veeto stepped over the little girl and took his seat, wiping his knife on Wetto’s baby mother’s face. “Take that shit. Now I put some work in.”

  Chapter 12

  Blackie dropped the four duffle bags full of money in front of me. “Here you go, Blood. I got the dope outside in the van. You want me to bring that in, too?” he asked, checking the bottom of his Jordans that were saturated in Weeto’s daughter’s blood. I shook my head.

  “N’all, Blood. Half of them yours anyway along with this bag right here. Make sure you hit the Bloods that you took with you. If you eating, then yo’ dogs should be eating, too. Word up.”

  Veeto handed me the bolt cutters. “Yo, y’all pick this botch bitch nigga up and lay him out on that table. Hurry up so we can clean up the mess we’re about to make.” He stepped back so the Bloods could set Weeto up. They laid him flat on his back along the wooden table in the booth they’d brought in. Once he was sprawled out, they held him down.

  “Yo, Veeto. Let me see that knife, kid. I’m about to fuck this nigga over in a major way.” He tossed the knife to me and pulled out a bag of Lays Potato chips.

  “Do yo thing, Money. Word is bond. I wanna hear that nigga scream. It’s soundproof in this bitch, so it’s all good.” He sat in his chair, but I pulled it up close to the table along with the rest of the Bloods that surrounded it. I jumped on top of Wetto and straddled him like a broad. Took his shirt and cut down the middle of it, ripping the rest of the cloth from his body. He was a real fat ass nigga, sweating and everything. He had Blood Gang tatted around his stomach.

  “Son, I don’t give a fuck what you about to do to me, Showbiz, but when it’s all said and done, let my baby mother go. I’ve held up more than my end of things. She ain’t—Aw!” I pressed the point of the knife into the bottom of his Adam’s apple and sliced downward, opening and splitting his skin that bled right away. I trailed the blade all the way down to the bottom of his stomach.

  He tried to kick his legs and arms, but the Bloods held him down. “Arrgh! Arrgh! You son of a bitch! Why are you doing me like this?” he spat.

  I drug the blade backward, using the same incision. The second time caused the meat to tear and open up all the way up. “Yo, hand me them bolt cutters now, son. I got a trick for this fuck nigga since he think he got so much heart.”

  “Don’t do this shit, Blood. You got all of my money. Kilt two of my daughters. I’m still Blood. Y’all can’t do me like this. Argh, fuck! Fuck!” he hollered, before his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

  I took the bolt cutters, placed it right below his rib cage in the middle where it connected everything. Hook the cutters up to his bone, before closing it together. It snapped as the steel cut through his bone. He began to shake like crazy as if he were having a seizure. Blood ran from his mouth. He gargled on it as his eyes remained in the back of his head.

  I didn’t give no fucks. I went to one rib at a time, cutting them with the big tool. One after the other until his entire rib cage folded inward. I grabbed my pistol and beat on his chest with the handle caving it all the way in. It looked like he was imploding. Veeto handed me his knife again. “Yo, you a crazy ass nigga, Showbiz. Muhfuckas gon’ know what it is when it comes to you, kid. Word is bond. New York on notice.”

  I slammed the knife into Weeto’s chest and sliced downward, digging into his flesh. As soon as the hole was big enough, I stuck my gloved hand inside of it, feeling around for his heart. His eyes fluttered. He hopped up and down on the table, choking. Blood poured out of his nose, mouth, and ears. I grabbed his heart, and with all of my strength, I pulled it as hard as I could until it came out of his body with the arteries attached to it. I yanked until the heart popped off of them. I held his heart, his bleeding heart in the air.

  “This what happens to anybody that crosses Showbiz Vega! Spread the word. And kill that bitch. No mercy style!” I snapped. I felt like I was losing my mind. All I saw was red. I had a blood lust. My vision was hazy as the blood dripped from my gloves and my forearm. My chest heaved up and down and I couldn’t see straight.

  ***

  As if that wasn’t crazy enough, my father summoned me and my brothers to his pad later that night. I got there at around ten o’clock. I was fucked up, high as hell. Still seeing the images of Wetto and his slain family in my mind’s eye. I took my seat at the table and closed my eyes. I was still having problems with my vision. My brother, Miguel, sat next to me, texting away on his phone while Tristian sat directly across from me with an amused look on his face. He looked like he’d just gotten done fucking or something.

  “Yo, kid. Why you got that dumb ass look on your face?” I asked before closing my eyes back. The air conditioner in the room was on full blast. It was fucking with my high because I could feel the goose bumps appear all over my skin. It was freaking me out.

  “You gon’ see in a minute, god. Yo, just honor me, and fall back, too.”

  Minutes later, my father came into the room and cleared his throat. “It’s good to see all of you. I won’t make this meeting too long because I know that time is money. I would like to formally announce my successor. I ask that everyone respects my decision because a deal is a deal. I said the first son to co
me to me with fifteen million dollars would be able to take my seat after I stepped down. Well, Tristian has done that and therefore, he will be my successor. Son, come up here.”

  Before Tristian could even rise from his seat. I stood up. “What the fuck are you talking about? I know damn well he ain’t came up with no fifteen million dollars. This is some bullshit. It’s foul play involved!” I snapped ready to make my way to the front of the room.

  “Juanito, have a seat. I am speaking right now,” my father retorted. I could see his face turning red.

  “N’all, fuck that, Pop. You’ve always been all up this nigga’s ass anyway. Deep down in your heart you want him to be your successor, it didn’t matter if either me or Miguel came up with everything anyway.” I mugged my father with mounting hatred.

  “Juanito, I’m not going to tell you again. If you don’t—” He grabbed his heart. “Argh!” He fell backward toward his wheelchair and missed it, landing on the floor.

  I bucked my eyes. “That’s what you get. That’s karma. Karma always comes back to get a nigga. That’s my muthafucking birthright! Mine! You can’t take that away from me!” Tristian fell to the ground with him, along with my uncle Javier. My father held his chest as his face turned blue. His mouth was wide open with his tongue laid against his cheek.

  “Come on, Pops. Please don’t die. Don’t die, Pop,” Tristian cried. I didn’t give a fuck. I hated his guts. I was hoping he died right there on the floor. He was worthless to me. Had God not taken him, I would have. I hated him that much. I would make Tristian pay for stealing my birthright. I would make him pay in the worst way. There was no way around it.

  My father began to seize, shaking like crazy, before he was as still as a board. His tongue hung out of his mouth. I stepped by them. “Come on, Miguel. This ain’t got shit to do wit’ us. I didn’t give a fuck about Miguel either, but I had a trick up my sleeve. I couldn’t allow for Tristian to keep breath in his lungs. Not holding on to my birthright. He had to pay. That thief of a bitch nigga had to get what was coming to him and I was going to use Miguel to handle that business for me. I was thinking of killing two birds with one stone.