Who Shot Ya Box Set

by Renta

  Goose looked up at me and shook his head with a disappointed expression on his face. “I see you still put all your trust in your bitch.” He taunted before he pushed the first pawn forward. I took it with the positioned bishop, he took my bishop with the second pawn. “You work yo’ bitch so much you forget you love her. When a man elevates to a certain plateau in his game, he no longer has to use his bitch to gain position—he has shootas for that,” Goose spoke as if he knew something I didn’t.

  I pushed my queen to the row the second pawn was on. He pushed his king behind it to protect it. Frustration surged through me as I realized I’d fucked up. Goose didn’t make it any better when he said, “The best way to study your foe is by observing his bitch. You know why, Berg?”

  I pushed my queen to the last row preparing to take his pawn if he decided to go for the queen but instead, he pushed his third pawn up. “You observe his bitch because she’s the reflection of the man and her game is his.”

  I pushed my queen in front of his pawn so he couldn’t move it forward, but it was only a stalling tactic. He pushed the third pawn beside the second one threatening my queen. My Bishop was in its original place and if I took either pawn, it would be a suicide mission for my queen. But if I let him get his queen, he’d check me and push the other pawn down. I procrastinated as long as I could, before looking up at him in defeat. I took one pawn and allowed him to take the queen with his king.

  He saluted me. “A woman has that effect on men. Once a lesser man tastes the power of a true queen, he forgets his own well-being because he’s so focused on her moves. He forgets she’s the most powerful piece in his life merely because of the game he invested in her. He can sacrifice her at will, but the power of that pussy causes him to forget the most detrimental rule of the game.” Confidence exuded from his stare as he tipped my king over with his finger as if playing the rest of the game out would be pointless. “Even though she’s the most powerful, he’s the most valuable piece. You can play chess without a queen and win, but when the king dies, so does everybody else in the castle; simultaneously!” He schooled me.

  At that moment shit got ugly, the door crashed open, and a bloodied mess crashed to the floor. Me and Goose dropped low, but not before pulling out our burnas. I’m guessing the universe wanted to give substance to Goose’s point because we aimed our tools, simultaneously!”

  Chapter Four

  ~Assata~

  The very first thing that met me when I regained consciousness was excruciating pain. As soon as my eyes opened, the bright light made me feel as if my head had been cracked open.

  “Arugh—” I growled in anguish.

  Every portion of my nature burned—hurt—throbbed, and my shoulders and wrists felt broken. It took me a moment to think beyond the pain and assess my predicament, slowly—with strained deliberation I lifted my eyes—my arms were suspended above me, chained at the wrist. The chain was thrown over a beam in the roof and pulled tight so that my feet were suspended at least three feet above the ground. Blood was dried on my flesh, and as I looked down at my body, I could see what seemed like small slices canvasing my chest and abdomen. I was shoeless and naked except for a soiled pair of boxers.

  I could tell that whoever worked me over focused his attention on my face because the swelling had my head feeling like a hot air balloon. Everything seemed dream-like as I attempted to numb myself to the pain. They had to have drugged me because I saw everything in a hallucination state.

  “So—I finally get to meet the man of the hour, hmmm?” a deeply accented voice mused.

  He wasn’t an intimidating man by far, he was a small impeccably dressed cat with long, wavy, blond hair. It was hard to focus through the drugs I’d been subjected to, but even through the many colors I was seeing, the two most prominent distinguishments about the dude were his striking blue eyes and the infamous long scar that ran from his left eyebrow all the way down the middle of his jaw. He stood in front of me in a tailored Givenchy suit with his hands behind his back. Beside him stood a tall, slender bald-headed cat that resembled Uncle Fester of the Addams Family, except he wore grey attire under a long white lab coat as if he was a doctor.

  “Do you know who, I am Mr. Assata? Do you know where you’re at?” The accented man asked again.

  I don’t know why, but at that moment a white foamy liquid rushed up my throat and spewed out of my mouth. I became lightheaded and that’s when shit got ugly. The room seemed to crumble before my eyes.

  “What the fuck did you give—me—cock sucka?” I managed as the ceiling began to corrode as I watched.

  “You’ve yet to answer my question, Mr. Assata. Do you know who the fuck I am?” the small man seethed. I assumed he was the cat, Russia, because of the scar, but I answered no man.

  I lifted my head and roared in agony, my arms burned with an intensity so great I thought they’d rip right off my body. I turned my heated glare back to the duo. “Yea—I—I know who you are.” My head felt too heavy for my neck as it dropped, and my chin fell to my chest.

  It was an effort to keep my eyes focused, but somehow, I managed to glare at him as he looked up at me expectantly.

  “Oh, you do hmm?” He smirked at me with an amused expression on his face. “Tell me then, Mr. Assata, who am I?” He inquired as he pushed me causing me to swing back and forth.

  “Son of a bitch!” I exploded in pain. The two men shared a laugh at my expense. “Yea—you-you're the cock sucka I’ma kill when I—I—get—” suddenly, everything went black for a moment. I couldn’t speak or think.

  Russia chuckled. “You’re gonna kill me?” He smiled up at me once my vision returned. “Doctor Voloarsky, please enlighten our friend here of his current predicament.” He turned to the cat in the lab coat.

  I observed through a heated gaze as the Uncle Fester lookin’ mu’fucka reached in his coat pocket and pulled out an object that resembled a scalpel. The faggot stepped over to me and as soon as he came in my proximity, I attempted to kick his head off his shoulders, but my strength was nonexistent.

  The doctor patted my stomach. “Hold still, dear boy, you’re in no position to fight against these odds. If you continue to fight against it, your heart will distribute the poison deeper into our bloodstream—” he paused, and before I could react, he sliced me with the sharp blade. “You’ve been exposed to a Soviet-born nerve agent—it dates back to the nineteen-eighties and in Russia, it’s given the name novichoks which in English translates the new kid on the block!”

  The cock sucka sliced me again, the thin blade was so sharp that I didn’t feel it, but the sting afterward was antagonizing. I watched helplessly as he walked over to a table littered with strange looking paraphernalia and packed up a syringe. He took the cap off and flicked the instrument a few times before tapping the plunger. A squirt of a yellowish liquid shot out about half a foot high as the crazed doctor stared at it adoringly before looking up at me as if he’d lived for this moment his entire existence.

  “Tis agent can be very deadly if not cared for properly—” Volodarsky headed in my direction as he spoke his insanity. “I’ve drained you of a few pints of blood to detoxicate you since you’ve been out of it. I’ve injected you with this serum I created, and it's working marvelously!” He chuckled as if using me for a lab rat was the most hilarious thing since comedy.

  Once he stood before me, the strange man rubbed his hand up my bare inner thigh. I assumed he was on some rainbow shit, and though I wasn’t homophobic, I wasn’t a participant either. I attempted to kick him in the face, but my energy was drained.

  His owlish blue eyes focused on me. “Be still, silly boy, I’m trying to find a fast way to your aorta, not grope you—” he paused once his hand stopped midthigh. “You have a main artery in your thigh which is connected to your aorta through a sequence of veins and arteries,” he spoke to me as if I knew what the hell an aorta was. Even in the condition, I was in, he could read the expression on my face.

  He nodd
ed and elaborated. “An aorta is the main trunk that carries blood to the left side of your heart, and all other limbs and organs of your body, except for your lungs. Of course, you’re gonna die either way, but I have a few more drugs to experiment with on you.” His eyes flickered to Russia who was standing in a corner observing with an expressionless fascination. “The good man here has revived my hope in medicine by allowing me to practice it here at his humble abode.” He waved his hand around the room as if he were showing me around a room at the Hilton.

  Under hooded eyes I took in my surroundings, a black rat the size of a cat scurried across the stained floor. Abandoned cracked pipes, tainted condoms, and other debris littered the ground. I came to the conclusion that I was gonna die in this dilapidated building. I knew exactly where they held me because unbeknownst to them, me and Pain grew up thuggin’ in this building. We used it for every extracurricular activity we could until DPD caught on and started givin’ niggas trespassing tickets for entering it.

  “Tis drug you’ve been exposed to work ruin on a person’s body—it stops the normal transmission of messages between the nerves and muscles. The light-headedness you’re feeling will soon morph into grogginess, that will soon become the evidence of strained breathing.”

  Russia interrupted my train of thought as he pushed away from the wall. “I bet you’re wondering how ‘tis man is so well versed in medicine?” he said as he clapped the doctor on the back. “My old friend here is from the old country. I’ve known him for decades now. Back when I served as an assassin for the Russian Mafia, I was poisoned by a snake of a fellow that was paid to eliminate the opposition.” The two men shared a strange look before he continued. “I barely escaped with my life. Yet, as I stumbled along the putrid alleyways of the capital and largest city in Russia, Moscow—”

  He stared off into the distance, transporting back to a time before the tailored suits and tons of cocaine. “—I could feel the poison swimming within my veins—like a river that empties into the ocean. The poison would pour out into the crevices of my heart until there was no more life in me. I had come to wit's end—the pain I felt at ‘tis moment was so great that I crumbled to the ground ready to surrender to the hands of life, but the Angel of Death had other plans for me.” He fell silent lost inside times past.

  The doctor patted him on his shoulder and took it from there. “I found him gasping for air, flirting with the fate of death. I was an exiled physician from Rome. I’d been run away from my country for practicing medicines on ninety- eight people all of which died except one—the one that ruined my life and got me exiled, never to return to my home. I was named a witch doctor. In Mexico, they called me a curandero, a man who practiced folk medicine.” He shook his head sadly before a bright smile lit his face. “So, you can only imagine how elated I was to find ‘tis man in need. I knew if I saved him, I’d prove my expertise. I took him in and the rest is history, I’ve been with him ever since.”

  The only thought that came to mind was, ‘these two sick mu’fuckas were a match made in heaven.’

  The doctor paused, and without warning, the sick son of a bitch stabbed me in the thigh with the needle. The pain was so great I vomited.

  Volodarsky smiled up at me. “You’re gonna die here, Mr. Assata, but before you do, I plan on having a lot of fun with you!”

  ~Goose~

  My senses were in overdrive as I studied the bloody mess that lied face down on Lovey’s living room floor. Instantly, recognition cooked my blood to a boiling point. I rushed over to Pain, kneeled down beside him and placed my fingers to his neck to check for a pulse.

  “Say, bruh, can you hear me. Who did this shit—talk to me, fam!” I demanded.

  I felt like a walking hurricane as I stared down at my lil’ brothas bloodied face. The weak thump of his heart seemed to awaken demons in me that surged from a sinister place until they trespassed into the darkness of my mind. Pain hung onto life by a thread, and the thoughts of losin’ him had me hanging on to my sanity by a string. While assessing my brother, I saw a blur of movement out of my peripheral.

  Without a bit of hesitation, I spun on my hind legs with the tool already extended in the direction of the possible threat. I didn’t know who it was, but if death had followed my brotha home, I’d take him with me wherever men like me went after the physical life.

  Ice-Berg aimed his burna at me as he cautioned. “Whoa—” from the look in his eyes I could tell his intent wasn’t to do any harm to me or bro, he was merely caught off guard by me drawin’ down on him.

  “It’s me, homie, I ducked out to make sho ya boy ain’t lead the devils to us.” He nodded at Pain.

  I lowered the pistol and turned my attention back to my brotha. I knew I needed to tame that savage in me before I ended up whackin’ somebody on accident! I realized I was off my game because I didn’t even see him leave the room in the first place. Pain was saturated in blood and traces of dirt made his dark skin look as if he had been rolling around on the ground.

  Without looking at Berg, I stood up. “Help me get him to the couch, fam.”

  Though he could care less if my lil’ nigga lived or passed on to the other side, Ice-Berg was intelligent enough to tuck his gun and grab Pain’s legs to assist me as we carried him to the couch. I don’t know why it came to mind, but I could hear Lovey having a fit ‘bout how the old ass sofa had been in the family for generations and she was gonna blister our behinds for the mess. At the thought of the old lady, a lightning bolt of anger clashed with a typhoon of pain inside me. I missed her with the entirety of the piece of heart I had left. I hadn’t even buried her yet, I knew she’d want all her boys present at her last stop.

  “I don’t ask for much, but I need you to protect my babies. I’m no saint, Father, but I do my best. My only request is that if you must—take me before you take them. My heart is too fragile to be standing over their caskets. Please, God—take me before you take them. This is my sacrifice, In Jesus name, Amen.”

  The prayer I overheard her sendin’ to the OG replayed in my head. The shit rocked me so bad I had to shake my head vigorously to clear it of the pictures exploding behind my eyelids. I honestly don’t remember closing my eyes, but after the storm calmed, I cracked my eyes open to find Ice-Berg staring at me perplexed.

  We stood there sizing each other up until Pain caused us to break the showdown as both of our attention diverted to him.

  “Nigga, Lovey—would kick yo’ ass for fuckin’ up her couch,” he verbalized my thoughts.

  I chuckled a lil’ and gave lil’ bro a weak smile. “I’m more concerned with if I’m ‘bout to buy you and Lovey matching caskets—” I focused on his droopin’ eyes; “—you ‘bout to die on me, family?” I searched his soul as if I could override God’s plan and choose if he lived or died. My flesh laughed weakly.

  “Nigga you sound like Wax and O’Dawg in that movie, Menace II Society, “Don’t die Pain—please, Pain, don’t die!” Pain whispered.

  In spite, of it being the last thing I wanted to do, he got a good laugh out of me and Berg. At the sound of Berg’s laughter, Pains eyes focused on me in surprise. Slowly, his eyes turned to Ice-Berg, and his reaction fucked up the temperature in the room. Hell could be seen in my eyes as I went for my tool at the same time Pain’s energy suddenly kicked in and he went for the same thing. As we battled for the .357, Ice-Berg scrambled for his.

  The words that spilt from his Pain’s lips were like toxins poured into the only water supply a small village had to drink from—it affected everybody! “Nigga is you insane—this pussy ass nigga just sent Twisted to do me!” he raged.

  ****

  ~Assata~

  ~Three Hours Later~

  It had been hours since Russia and his mad doctor left me hanging on to my life. I’d damn near gone crazy from the hallucinatory state I’d been in. I witnessed the room crash to ruble and rebuild itself three times! I’d vomited so much my stomach cramped from the lack of food and dry heaves. For a while,
I couldn’t get a grasp on to a coherent thought, but after the last episode of vomiting, I could feel my body and my immune system kick into overdrive. It was a dizzying—nauseous feeling that made me grit my teeth against the foreign effect. I looked up at my chained wrists—somehow—someway, I had to get the hell down from there. I exerted the little bit of energy I could in an attempt at trying to pull myself up the chain. Maybe—just maybe, I’d be able to unlatch the chain.

  “Near the time of death, breathing is strained—intermittent. Have you made it to that stage yet, Assata?” a feminine voice spoke from behind me.

  I froze—it was something about that sweet sound that struck a chord of familiarity with me and rocked my orbit.

  ‘Could it be,’ I thought in disbelief. The drugs had to have been working on my psyche again because there was no way possible for what I assumed to be a reality.

  “You’re feeling that as I speak to you, huh—like each breath you take is a struggle—do you know what will come next, Assata?” she asked as she stepped from the darkness.

  As soon as she stood before me, the room seemed to tilt and my mental capacity swelled with so many pieces to a puzzle that needed completion that my system overloaded and I dry heaved. The room spun so fast I thought I’d be torn apart from the sheer speed of it.

  My thoughts were on repeat. ‘How is this possible—was I trippin—was this another hallucination?’

  “Soon you’ll surrender to the inevitable—death!” she said as she lit a funny looking cigarette and took a long drag from it. Through a cloud of smoke, she gazed up at me with a lustful look dancing in her eyes. “Surreal, right—to see me after what you witnessed that day?” She laughed seductively as her eyes traveled the lengths of my battered body. Slowly—she licked her cherry red painted lips. “Absolutely delicious—” she paused before stalking over to me like a lioness that’s cornered her prey.