Thug Immortal

by J-Blunt

  “’Cause I ain’t no bitch or snitch,” Pop slurred. “Gonzo, you my nigga, boss. You showed me shit I never seen. Took me places I never been. When I look in yo’ eyes, I see realness. Same shit you see when you look in mine. That’s why I cut that nigga head off. Principles. Judgment. Consequences. Pussy niggas don’t deserve to breathe the same air as me. He was havin’ a baby by my cousin. I hated to bring my cousin pain, but fuck niggas s’posed to get fucked. I ain’t no fuck nigga, Gonzo. Cut me and I bleed real nigga red. I don’t give a fuck who they is, niggas break the rules and they gotta die. I ain’t break no rules. I enforce ‘em. You can’t kil1 me, boss. I can’t die. It ain’t my time. I know you hold the power of life and death in yo’ hands, but not mine. The world need more niggas like me. Like us.”

  Pop Somethin’s head dropped forward after he finished speaking. Gonzo smirked, downing a shot of tequila

  “You gonna let him talk to you like that, boss?” Marco spoke. “He’s a rat, just like his nigger friend. Kill–”

  Marco stopped speaking when Gonzo lifted a hand. “You must learn not to disrespect another man’s race or culture. What you said to Shooter was wrong and unnecessary. The reason I allowed him on my plane and accept him getting blood on my seats is because we are equals. He doesn’t have the money or stature, but we share principles. What I learned on the streets in Mexico, he learned in the streets of Texas. I bleed the same realness. You owe him an apology.”

  Marco’s jaw slackened and a confused look spread across his face. “He a rat. I don’t owe him anything but a bullet.”

  “You let me worry about who owes what. For now, you owe him. Pay. Apologize.”

  Pop looked up with a drunken grin on his face. Marco mugged him. “Lo siento,” he apologized through tight lips that uttered insincere words.

  Pop laughed. “Fuck you very much.”

  Marco’s face turned red as he tightened his grip on the .44 and machete. “You’re a dead man walking, Shooter. Dead!”

  Pop Somethin’ tried to stand, but lost his balance, falling back into the seat.

  “Whoa, big man!” Gonzo laughed.

  It took Pop Somethin’ two more attempts before he was able to get to his feet, then he turned to Marco, swaying like a tree blowing in the wind. “I know you disrespect me ‘cause you envy me. You see the way bitches look at me. Shit got chu mad ‘cause they know my dick bigger than yours,” Pop laughed. “The boss respect me ‘cause I’m his equal. I knew him for a couple months and he see me as his peer. You knew him yo’ whole life and you still a worker. Am I shinin’ too bright? Is my light hurtin’ yo’ eyes?”

  Marco attempted a lunge, but Gonzo’s voice stopped him mid-stride. “Not on my plane! If you insist on a dick-measuring contest, take it outside. But Shooter, I warn you. You are in no condition to take on Marco. Even sober, he would be a hard match. He is the head of my security for a reason.”

  Pop Somethin’ roared a laugh. “God ain’t made a nigga that can fuck in my bidness.”

  All of the men from the Gonzalez Cartel formed a circle around the combatants. Pop Somethin’ swayed from side-to-side, the liquor taking more and more of his bearing with every passing minute. Across from him, Marco shadowboxed and kicked the air, showing his Jujitsu training.

  “Are you sure about this, Shooter?” Gonzo asked, wearing a concerned look.

  Pop gave another drunken smile and threw up his hands. Marco moved with the speed and experience of a trained fighter and was inside Pop’s guard before the big man could react. Three punches to the face and a leg kick made Pop’s knee buckle. When the spinning back-fist connected to his jaw, the fight appeared to be over. The big man stumbled backward, dazed, damaged, and woozy. But he didn’t fall.

  Marco knew he had struck damaging blows and the fight was over. He smiled victoriously, approaching Pop Somethin’ with his hands down, swaggering like he’d already won. “This will be a fight to the death. I want to feel the life drain from your body. Then I will take your head and mount it on my wall next to your snitch bitch.”

  Pop Somethin’ struggled to keep his balance, his head swirling from the liquor and punches. When Marco came close, Pop took a wild swing. The martial arts student ducked the wild blow and kicked Pop Somethin’ in the knee again. When the big man stumbled, Marco took two steps and jumped in the air, his fist high behind his head. The Superman punch crashed into Pop’s bearded jaw, rattling his teeth and cutting the inside of his cheek. The goon wobbled, swayed, and teetered, but he didn’t fall. Blood leaked from his lips and pooled in his mouth. He spit a fountain of blood before wiping his mouth and putting his dukes up again.

  “You are a tough son of a bitch, I’ll give you that,” Marco admitted. “But you will go down. The bigger they are, the harder they fall.”

  Pop rolled his shoulders and tried to shake the stars from his head. He knew he was fucked up, but he couldn’t feel the pain.

  In an attempt to put Pop out of his misery, Marco moved quickly, stepping inside of Pop’s guard before he could throw a punch. The smaller man landed several punches to Pop’s face, his speed too much for the drunken man to elude. Another kick to his tender leg made Pop’s knee buckle. When Marco twisted his body in an attempt to land a perfectly executed, full crescent roundhouse kick, Pop Somethin’ caught his leg. Marco tried to pull away, but his speed and fighting skill was no match for Pop Somethin’s strength. A hard twist of his leg made Marco scream in pain as his knee popped. He fell to the ground, trying to wiggle away, but Pop didn’t let go of his leg. He twisted again, tearing muscles, ligaments, and sinew. More screams filled the airplane hangar. Other soldiers made a move to help, but a grunt from Gonzo made them pause.

  Everyone watched as the drunken, bloody, and dreadlocked black man picked Marco up from the ground, lifting him over his head. With all the force he could muster, Pop Somethin’ brought the smaller man crashing down onto his knee, almost breaking him in half. Bones crunched as Marco’s spine shattered across Pop’s knee. Screams of agony filled the hangar as Marco’s limp body fell to the ground. Some of the cartel members looked away, disgusted by the unnatural folding of their once-esteemed leader’s body. A beastly growl from Pop Somethin’ made them all look to the gruesome scene again. The sight would haunt their dreams for several lifetimes.

  Pop Somethin’ crawled on top of Marco, turning into a vampire as he used his teeth to rip out the paralyzed man’s Adam’s apple and voice box. Blood sprayed from Marco’s throat like a geyser as Pop snatched his head back, his face covered in fresh blood as he chewed the dying man’s throat. After spitting out the mangled flesh, Pop knelt next to Marco and watched him die.

  “What a waste,” Gonzo said disgustedly, turning to his militia. “Let this be a lesson to you all. Enemies must die or they will recover from small wounds. But they can never recover from a great death.”

  After taking a few moments to let his words sink in, the cartel boss turned to Pop Somethin’. “You have 72 hours to leave Texas. My reach knows no boundaries. This is your only warning. Do not come back.”

  Chapter 2

  Tires squealed and gravel flew in the air as the Maserati sped past the chain-link fence that separated the outside world from the small airport. The woman behind the wheel of the sports car wore a panicked look. Her identical twin in the passenger seat wore the same expression.

  “Find hangar nineteen!” Queenie said, her eyes wide with fear, searching for the airplane hangar.

  “There it is!” Princess pointed.

  Queenie pushed the pedal to the floor, the souped-up engine screaming as the car chewed up the ground. The tires screeched when she smashed the break, the expensive maroon sedan sliding to a stop in front of the closed doors of hangar nineteen. The sisters tore out of the car, knowing every second that passed created more uncertainty about the whereabouts of Pop Somethin’. When they pulled open the hangar doors, they found it empty of an airplane, but what they did find scared the shit out of them.

&nbs
p; Pop Somethin’ lay on the ground in a pool of blood.

  Queenie ran to him, tears streaming down her face as she knelt down next to him. “Pop, get up! Getcho ass up!”

  When the big goon didn’t move, Queenie began running her hands over his body to check for wounds while Princess put her head to his chest and listened for a heartbeat. “His heart beating,” Princess said, breathing a sigh of relief. “He smell like liquor. I think he asleep.”

  Thankfulness passed through Queenie’s body, but just to make sure, she put her head to his chest and listened to his rhythm of life. Jubilation spread across her face. A couple of slaps to the face made him open his eyes.

  “Damn, baby. Why you hittin’ me like that for?” Pop slurred.

  “Don’t be scarin’ me like that, nigga. We thought cho ass was dead.”

  Pop grinned. “Can’t nobody kill me. I’m immortal.”

  “Well, getcho immortal, drunk ass up and let’s get the fuck outta here before people start askin’ questions ‘bout this blood. Whose blood is it?”

  “Niggas got convicted and judged,” Pop grinned.

  After the sisters helped him to the car and lay him in the back seat, the Maserati sped toward the highway. “What we doin’, Pop? Where are goin’?” Queenie asked as she maneuvered the sports car.

  “And where is C-Note?” Princess asked.

  “Nigga got judged for breakin’ the G-Code,” Pop slurred.

  “How the fuck you get to the airport?” Queenie asked.

  “I had a meetin’ wit’ the boss. Texas burnt up. We gotta go.”

  Princess’s head snapped around. “What? Leave Texas? And go where? Why?”

  “He gave me 72 hours to go or they comin’ at me.”

  “Fuck Gonzo!” Princess spat. “He don’t own shit. He can’t make us leave. Nigga bleed just like us.”

  “Them grenades almost blowin’ yo’ ass up wasn’t enough, huh?” Pop laughed. “This a cartel, Princess. This ain’t no neighborhood gang niggas. They got reach and long money. I got the heart of a lion and don’t fear nothin’ but God, but I ain’t stupid. They got a green light on me in three days. I’m leavin’. It’s up to you if you wanna roll wit’ me. You too, Queenie.”

  “I’m wit’ chu, baby,” Queenie spoke up. “Tell me the next move and we gon’ make it together.”

  When Pop didn’t respond, Queenie glanced into the back seat. Pop was out like a light.

  “That’s why that nigga don’t drink. He can’t handle that shit,” Princess laughed.

  “So, what you gon’ do? I’m leavin’ wit’ Pop. You comin’?” Queenie asked.

  “I guess I really don’t got no choice. We don’t got nowhere to live and we broke. Fuckin’ wit’ Pop been good for us so far. Ain’t no sense in trynna do somethin’ different. Plus, we never left Texas except when we went to Mexico wit’ Gonzo. A new state might be good for us. But for now let’s get to a hotel and get this nigga cleaned up and sober.”

  When they found a cheap room for the night, the sisters took Pop inside and cleaned him up. After putting him in bed, Princess left to go buy clothes and hygiene products while Queenie cleaned the blood in the bathroom. She had just finished the walls when she heard Pop talking. When she looked into the room, Pop was lying on his stomach, humping the mattress. A wicked smiled spread across her face as she walked over, ready to bring his dream to life.

  “Yeah, Shanice. Mm, baby,” Pop moaned.

  Shock and awe spread across Queenie’s face when she realized Pop was dreaming about fucking his cousin. She stood there, watching him hump away at the mattress, questions flooding her mind. Is that why he was so overprotective of her? Did jealously make him beat up C-Note? Was Shanice the reason he didn’t believe in love? Because he was already in love with someone else? Queenie knew liquor released inhibitions and made people tell the truth. Pop was in love with Shanice. Queenie knew it in her gut. The realization made her feel some type of way. She forgot about cleaning the bathroom and sat on the bed, watching Pop sleep.

  Princess walked into the room half an hour later, immediately noticing Queenie watching Pop sleep. “That is so fuckin’ creepy.”

  “He in love wit’ Shanice.”

  Princess eyed her sister. “What the fuck you just say?”

  “He in love wit’ Shanice. That’s why he overprotective of her. That’s why he beat up C-Note. He was just havin’ a dream about fuckin’ her. I watched him.”

  Princess didn’t understand the hurt and confusion swirling in her sister’s eyes. “How do you know he love her? And why you so upset? It was only a dream.”

  “He said her name. And I feel some type of way ‘cause my nigga in love wit’ somebody that ain’t me.”

  Princess sat near her sister. “Don’t do this to yo’self, Queenie. This could be in yo’ head. Plus, he not only yo’ nigga. He mine, too. He fuck me just as much as he fuck you. So what if he fuck somebody else? We got his loyalty.”

  “It’s not in my head. I know what I seen.”

  “C’mon, sis. Chill. It’s me. Don’t let this dream get to you. You know how Pop feel about love. It’s not in him. Besides, look at us. We been fuckin’ since we was twelve. So what if he have a dream about Shanice? At least he didn’t fuck her. I don’t think.”

  Queenie side-eyed her sister as she got up from the bed. “You know just what to say to make me feel like shit, bitch.”

  ***

  The queasiness of Pop’s stomach awoke him from his slumber. When he opened his eyes, he immediately noticed several things. It was dark. He wasn’t sure where he was. His head pounded like the Energizer Bunny was beating it instead of a drum. He had to use the bathroom.

  After taking a few moments to gather his strength, Pop lifted his head to look around. Queenie was sleeping on the left, Princess on the right. The bathroom was a couple feet from the bed. He made a move to sit up and immediately felt the bile rising. Using a hand to cover his mouth, he leapt from the bed, spilling vomit all the way to the bathroom. He knelt over the toilet, hugging the porcelain and heaving his guts out.

  “Damn, Pop! You threw up on me!” Princess whined, heading for the sink.

  Pop responded with heaves as the contents of his stomach spilled into the toilet. When Princess finished wiping her arm, she put a cool towel on the back of Pop’s neck and held his dreads as he finished throwing up. When he was done, he lay on the floor exhausted, loving the way the cold tile felt against his naked skin.

  “How much did you drink?” Princess asked, doing a bad job at hiding her giggles.

  “I don’t know. Gonzo kept pourin’ shots. Liquor like a truth serum. I guess he got me drunk to question me.”

  The mention of liquor making a person tell the truth made Princess think of her sister’s story about Pop fuckin’ the mattress. “Do we really gotta leave Texas? Where we gon’ go?”

  “Yeah. I don’t know where to go. All I know is Houston. But I can’t go to war wit’ a cartel wit’ me, you, and Queenie.”

  “Damn, Pop. This is so fucked up. But okay. You my nigga. I’m wit’ chu. Tell me what you think. What’s our next move?”

  Pop was quiet for a few thoughtful moments. “I need to go back to Houston. I gotta holla at Deso.”

  Princess looked like Pop had just told her to eat a shit sandwich. “Is you crazy? Deso? What about Pop Squad? You know they want cho ass dead, right?”

  “Fuck Drama and Snot. I ain’t worried ‘bout dem niggas, but I need some paper. And a couple swords. Gonzo took my D.E.S. Plus Deso can put us on a move that will pay for us to get where we goin’. This the only thing I can think of on short notice.”

  Princess leaned against the sink and thought about what Pop said. It wasn’t a good plan. In fact, it was terrible and might get them killed, but she didn’t have a better one. “Damn, Pop. You bad for a bitch’s nerves, nigga. Damn.”

  “A life without excitement isn’t worth livin’,” Pop grinned.

  “Lately our lives been havin�
� too much excitement. You ever thought about gettin’ a job and makin’ us some honest women?”

  Pop cut his eyes at her.

  Princess burst out laughing. “I’m just fuckin’ wit’ chu, nigga. Damn. I wish you coulda seen the look on yo’ face.”

  “You got jokes, huh? I told you niggas get killed for playin’ too much.”

  “The way yo’ ass laid out on the floor, I ain’t worried ‘bout you doin’ shit. You so weak right now you prolly can’t wipe yo’ ass.”

  “Don’t let this shit fool you. When a wolf cry, you can still see that wolf teeth.”

  Princess sat on the edge of the tub, spreading her naked thighs and revealing her pink pussy. “I’m a lioness, nigga. Wolves ain’t shit to me.”

  Pop watched her fingers spread her pussy lips and rub her clit. “So, you sayin’ I ain’t shit?” he asked, struggling to get to his feet.

  Princess shoved a finger in her hole and moaned. “Mm. Yeah, nigga. I said you ain’t shit. Fuck you gon’ do?”

  Pop couldn’t make it to his feet, so he crawled over. Princess pulled a finger from her juice box and forced it into his mouth. “Yeah, nigga. That’s right. Stay on yo’ knees and worship the pussy!”

  “Nah, bitch,” Pop said, reaching up and wrapping a big hand around her throat. “Get on yo’ knees and worship my dick.”

  While Pop choked her, he used her body and the tub to climb to his feet, but Princess wasn’t going to be obedient this time. Before Pop could stand fully erect, she pushed him. Pop lost his balance, letting go of her throat, trying to break his fall. He hit the wall and slid back to the floor. Princess moved quickly, straddling his lap and grabbing two fistfuls of his dreads as she lowered her face a few inches from his.