Murder for Hire 2: Killifornia

(((OOC: Sorry for the long delay. This thread is open for many roles, please see the OOC thread before posting here.)))

Once Bunny and Clyde were free from the looming threat of the police Clyde turned the obnoxious looking steel box away from the freeway, heading South.

“Baby… Where are we going?” Bunny asked softly, clinging to his arm.

“I figured since we were in the area we ought to pay Thoaty a visit.” Clyde smiled over at his lover.

Bunny giggled conspiratorially, visits to “Thoaty’s” house always meant fun times for the contract killing duo. Thoaty was an OG with LA’s South-Side Crips who Clyde did a big hit for a few years back. To everyone else, the man was known as ThoatCutta, to call him otherwise would have been certain suicide for anyone else. Bunny had given him that nickname and since the two had earned his respect he allowed them (and only them) to address him with the very casual nickname.

The contract had been for the leader of the rival East-Side Bloods who had, at the time, taken over most of the city by recruiting hard up elementary school kids to do most of his dirty work. To this day it remained one of the most difficult hits Clyde could remember accomplishing successfully. In South Central LA, gangs ran different neighborhoods with ruthless diligence that even most military bases couldn’t match. For two white assassins to even get near their leader was a very tall task.

Now, the Crips ran the majority of the city, and Clyde was revered as a war-hero to most of the South-Side faithful. This became more and more obvious as the Hummer rolled deeper and deeper into the inner-city.

For most white couples driving an expensive SUV this would have been a very “Dead” end road. But for Bunny and Clyde it was more like a homecoming. Very serious thugs waived at them warmly and as the blue rags became more frequent the size of the weapons they carried increased as well.

Aside from being the closest thing Bunny and Clyde had to a friend, Thoaty also dealt in drugs and big guns. Both things that Clyde felt the need for right now.

Clyde’s cock even began to stir slightly when he turned onto the court at the epicenter of Crip territory and he saw soldiers pacing the block, brazenly wielding AKs. Clyde hoped that Thoaty knew them well enough to reserve one of those lovely pieces for an old friend.

Clyde parked the Hummer in the middle of the court, never even considering locking it. To steal their car would be to go against OG ThoatCutta, and in these parts that was a thought unthinkable.

The luxury SUV actually looked far less out of place than did the two Caucasians that stepped out of it. All around them the decrepit houses held luxury cars in the driveway, six-figure cars in front of five-figure homes. It was what the residents called “Hood Rich”.

Clyde brazenly walked up to the house at the end of the block and knocked on the door. Two lower ranking soldiers with blue rags over their faces stepped around the Hummer, silently pledging their lives to its preservation by pulling their concealed Tech-9’s.

The door eventually swung open, greeting Bunny and Clyde with a cloud of pungent smelling smoke and the barrel of a sawed off shotgun. Thoaty’s hair was up in curlers when he opened the door, obviously not expecting company.

“Oh shit! If it ain’t White-Face Killa and his Hyphy Wifey.” Thoaty had nicknames for them too. “Come the fuck in. I guess ya’ll heard about the new shipment huh?”

“No man, we were just in the neighborhood, but I saw some of your lieutenants carrying those big ass AKs. You got any left to sell to your old buddy?” Clyde asked, walking inside.

“You know I got you my nigga. Hit this shit.” Thoaty passed a huge looking blunt over to Clyde that he gladly took. “I’ll tell you what homie, special price today only. An ounce of smoke, an AK and a box of rounds for $1k. Sounds like a damn good deal don’t it?”

Clyde choked on the dense smoke before registering the incredible discount Thoaty was offering them. It made it that much tougher for Clyde to make his next request.

“Yeah that sounds fresh Thoaty… but there was something else I wanted to ask you about.” Clyde muttered, he loathed asking for favors, even from old friends. “I need to ask you to take care of something for me.”

“Shoot my nigga, you know I got your back.” Thoaty declared confidently. “Just name it.”

“Well, this bitch has been hounding us for some time now, I’m sure she’ll be rolling through LA before too long. She’s an ex cop and we need somebody to get her off our ass.” Clyde said, taking the blunt and passing over a photo of Madeline.

“A Cop?” Thoaty asked incredulously. “Damn I never thought I’d see the day when a bitch could make you sweat White-Face. You ain’t got to worry about that bitch no more dawg. Cop’s ain’t shit. This bitch is gonna find out that this city is run by the REAL boys in blue.”

Amber morgan sat at the table with her so called friends looking over the menu and being very annoyed that the waiter had yet to get them their drinks. sighing she looked up over hte menu her dark blue eyes catching the rays of the after noon sun as she looked out the window at her limo parked at the curb. four large security gaurds standing around it. rolling her eyes she set the menu down. being the duaghter of an ex govenor was no great thing. she was constantly having to put up with incomatence and large burly men standing around her as if ever person passing was determind to bomb her car or do her some ill will.

pasting on a fake smile the 22 year old amber smiled to her friend teesha " well do you think our waiter will be coming over anytime today?" her anoyance was obviouse as she began to tap her manicured nails on the table top.

teesha tryed to smile but she knew what ambers anoyance could lead up to adn hoped that the waiter would come soon with their drinks. " oh don't worry look at this place it's packed. give the poor guy a break."

slaping her palm on the table amber's snaping to teesha's face." a break my ass. i am a paying customer and deserve good service! what kind of place is this that they hire people right off the street that can't keep up with the work?"

just then the waiter brought over their drinks an ice tea of teesha and a diet coke for amber setting the glasses in front of them he smiled kindly while his eyes said he would love nothing more than to send this rich snob through the meat grinder a few times. " will there be anything else lady's?" grumbling amber looked up at him.

" no actually i would like a cesar sallid and baked chicken with brocli .." as he jotted down her order he looked to teesha " and for you ma'am?"
teesha offered a friendly smile " i think i will have the same thank you."

as the waitor walked away the girls fell into a conversation about the latest fashions and ex boyfriends.

Patiently Waiting Madaline. . .

Madeline fished out her lip gloss, tousled her hair and then got out of her car. It wasn’t long before she was sitting in the police chief’s office looking at photos of a dead woman by the name of Jennifer Waters. “The husband?” she asked, looking at another picture of what seemed to be a happy couple standing in front of what was probably a home worth more money than she’d see in a life time.

“He’s alive,” the chief answered. “But really none of this concerns you.”

Madeline lifted a brow and crossed her legs, allowing her skirt to ride higher. “Yeah, it does. You know my history. I already explained it to you. I know these sick fucks like the back of my hand. . .”

“And? So what, from my understand you were Clyde’s lover, so maybe you’re an accomplice.”

“Fuck you!” she shouted and launched herself across the man’s desk. He jerked back, barely missing the stinging connection that her hand would have delivered. “Look, this is the closest I’ve gotten to these two since that day. I know you’ve heard the rumors, but I swear on my father’s life that they aren’t true.” She sat back in her seat and tried to remain calm. “Let me talk to the husband, maybe he overheard something that would tell me where their going next. Please,” she begged, needing to put another piece in the puzzle so she could get her hands around Clyde and Bunny’s necks.

“I’ll see if that can be arranged,” the chief said and then left her in his office.

Madeline pulled her cell phone out and called her family. Once more she checked in, informing them what was happening and this time she heard her father ask her to return home. “I can’t daddy, I’m so close now. . so close to making you proud.” She hung up the phone and waited on pens and needles to meet with the newly widowed husband or at least be told where she could find him.

He sat on the bottom of the steps, staring into the wide empty room. For a moment he actually heard silence, ringing and deadly in his ears. Nothing vibrated, the whole house stood still and quiet. No fridge humming, no clock ticking, just a deathly hallow inside the rooms.

He wondered if he could wrap himself up inside of up. Just wrap up in this void of sound, lay in it, bathe in it forever. He suddenly wished he was deaf, how wonderful it must be. Sweet sorrow that one could never take away from you. He wished he were deaf.

And blind. He hated the colors. The world had too many colors.

The phone rang, it broke his concentration. But, he must not have been thinking very well, because the time he grabbed the phone in his hands he forgot what it was he had thought. Something about colors.

He didn't know. His mind had become some gaping strainer, everything slowly leaving him. He held onto the few memories left inside.

It was the police, they had more questions. He tried to answer his best. The past few days life had been filled with questions. He had turned into some sort of machine, spitting out answers to everyone's questions, having set answers for some of them by now.

When they asked what he looked like, he sometimes just laughed until he cried, and then would throw something up against the wall. It seemed as good an answer as any.

Then, they said something different. There was a specialist, someone who was a victim of this couple, like himself. Someone who knew, it was crazy. She might be an accomplice though, the cop sounded like he wanted Derrick not to talk to her.

Derrick asked for her number,and hung up. He dialed it.

"1604 Laurel Avenue. The Petersen manor. Could you come?" He asked, staring at the open door, and the open gates. They had been smashed from the crash. She'd hit them with her car, trying to stop them from coming in. Both had been towed away now, only a gaping gate and shattered glass remained.

"Please..."

By now Bunny and Clyde were already speeding North on I-5 at just over 100 MPH. Clyde took a deep drag of the sizable blunt Thoaty had rolled them before they left. He passed it off to Bunny in favor of a firm grip on her thigh as he smiled through the smoke.

“We got some hot-shit politician’s daughter next.” Clyde smirked, he always relished the opportunity to bring suffering to politicians and their families. “It’s going to be a lot more fun than that last soap opera we went through.”

Clyde glanced back momentarily at the duffel bag that had grown into a full-scale arsenal by now. The barrel of their brand new AK poked out of the zipper over the bottles of liquor that Clyde had already taken the liberty of making into Molotov Cocktails. Thoaty had also sold them a nice little Tech-9 for Bunny, they definitely had more than enough firepower to do the next job.

Clyde took the blunt back from Bunny and just as he did, blue and red lights from a highway patrol car reflected onto his face. Clyde didn’t even put out the blunt as he pulled to the side of the road, at this moment narcotics charges were the least of their concerns. Clyde’s cock was already swelling at the thrill of a kill just waiting in the car behind them.

“Which do we want to break in first?” Clyde asked Bunny, looking back at their stash of new toys.

* * *

Lil Krazee looked at his picture of the cop once again. That bitch was pretty fuckin’ fine for being a cop, it was a pity they were going to have to paint the sidewalk with her. Lil was one of about 50 scouts scouring the city for Madeline right now, their orders were simple: Find her, Tail her, wait for backup. In the picture she didn’t look like anything rough, in fact it almost looked like the picture ThoatCutta had given out copies of had been taken while she was getting fucked silly.

Imagining what might have been going on just out of frame spurred Lil Krazee’s cock to harden against the seat of his Suzuki sport bike. Maybe he could have a little fun with that bitch before backup came…

If he found her that was.

The OGs had laughed at him for going to the police station first, but Lil Krazee’s mind worked very simply. He was looking for a cop, so he went to the PD, it made sense to him. Maybe they had been right though, he didn’t see hardly any bitches at all especially not any as fine as Madeline.

It was important for scouts like him to remain under the radar while hunting for somebody so the skinny, young Hispanic banger wore mostly black instead of the blue that typically distinguished him as a Crip. The blue bandana, rolled up and tied backwards (Tupac style) around his head was the only bit of related merchandise that he wore.

He was just about to put his helmet back on over his blue bandana and look elsewhere when he finally saw her walk out through the front doors. He chirped ThoatCutta right away.

*BleEeEeEep* “’ey boss. I think I found the bitch.” Lil Krazee announced. “She’s on the move but I can follow, my GPS is on.”

ThoatCutta quickly chirped back from headquarters.

*BleEeEeEep* “Good shit mah nigga, stay close but don’t let her see you. Soldias are on the way.”

Lil Krazee pushed his helmet back on quickly. He touched the Tech-9 that was tucked into his pants just to remind himself that he was armed. For some reason it wasn’t until his hand made the gun move in his pants that he realized that his cock was now fully hard from thinking about Madeline for so long and now actually seeing her. That bitch was definitely fine.

Madeline slipped her cell phone back into her pocket and thanked the police chief with a quick nod and a half-hearted smile. “Finally,” she thought to herself, “a break” or so she hoped as she walked out of the police station and climbed into her car. She pulled out another map, this one of the city and she pinpointed the address of the man she was meeting and headed out to what she hoped would not be another dead end.

She stared at the pictures that were now a part of her Clyde and Bunny collection. The woman’s body was a mess of crimson and the husband’s still shots showed a man who looked both heartbroken as well as secretly relieved. She wondered what his story was as she closed in on the address. Her fingers pushed the pictures back into the file and then she tossed it into her briefcase, all the while maneuvering her car through traffic.

When she was only a few blocks from Derrick Waters’s residence she pulled out her brush ran it through the blonde locks, spread a pale shade of pink onto her lips and tried to make herself seem like a sensible woman looking to help out a widow with his grief. In reality she just wanted information, she hoped maybe she could walk through the entire event with Derrick, but this time she wanted him to concentrate on any words that may have passed between Bunny and Clyde that would tell her where they were headed.

Also. . .she was curious as to why the Waters family had been chosen by the two sick fucks. Sure they were contract killers, but as she pulled into the drive, noticing the crashed gate, she saw nothing that screamed, come kill my wife or kill my husband. What were the secrets behind the Waters case and how could she gain Derrick’s trust to reveal all to her?

She stepped out of the car and tucked a few strands of her hair behind her ear. Her sunglasses were tossed to the side, leaving her green orbs to take in every detail of the luscious grounds that only the best money could afford during a hot, dry, summer.

Gingerly Madeline made her way toward the house, crossing the torn yellow crime scene tape. She knew the evidence had been collected, and Mister Waters could start reclaiming his property as his own, but she also knew the devastation that the ass holes left behind and she doubted the widow was ready for picking up the pieces of his life. . .she certainly was having a hard time doing it.

“Mister Waters?” she called as she pushed glass out of the way with her booted foot. “It’s Madeline Porter. We spoke on the phone.” She frowned as she noticed more broken glass. “Mister Waters? I wanted to ask you a few questions about your wife.”

"I know," He said nodding his head. He hadn't moved from the foot of the stairs. He just didn't have any energy to move. As if his whole body had suddenly given up on him. He'd forgotten how to give power to his own legs, how to use the muscles and sinew and bones inside to stand up. If he tried he would just fall forward limply.

The chalk outline was at the foot of the stairs, right in front of him. He thought it would be funny if he tried to stand and then fall in that outline, fall just so his body lined up with it perfectly. Wouldn't that be funny?

He didn't laugh though, he cut it back. He bit his lower lip, until he felt blood flow into his mouth, cold and coppery. He couldn't laugh, cause if he did he would just keep laughing, higher and louder until near hysteria, gut busting laughter that would turn to tears and eventually he would just curl into a ball and try to cuddle with the emptiness inside.

"They all want to know what happened, Madeline. I want to know what happened too. She hired them... she hired them to kill me, because she wanted our money."

Fourteen million and change, all tallied together. Insurance and estates and cars and the yacht. Fourteen million.

"Her lawyer knew a guy that did questionable jobs, he found them. Sammy, Sammy something or other. We'd been having some problems, job... but I wanted to work it out. I wanted to go to dinner."

He told her the best he could about that night. It became jumbled, disfigured in his head. He jumped from place to place, time to time as if in his telling he were on some pogo stick, bouncing back and forth.

But, the story got out. All of it there, everything he had heard, everything he remembered.

"The cops told me they've done this before. All over. They've left many a people like me in their wake. I was supposed to die..." He paused, looking up at her for the first time, his eyes filled with tears, filled with some lonely desperation that needed solace.

"I want them dead."

Madeline and the Widow. . .

Madeline frowned at the condition in which she found Derrick Waters. He was not going to recall anything in the state he was currently in. She told herself that there had to be more and he was just in a state of mind-numbing shock. After all, his wife had hired a thug and his whore to kill him, then ended up getting herself killed in the process. She knew Derrick had escaped death, but why? Why hadn’t Clyde dealt with Derrick also? She eyed him warily; her gut feeling telling her there was more to this story. She wouldn’t get any answers in this hell hole.

“Mister Waters, why don’t you come with me. I’ll get you a decent meal, not up to your usual standards, but even the rich folk go to Taco Bell on occasion.” She bent down, purposely blocking what little she could of the chalk outline. “I’m sure you have a maid or at least a service, why not let me make a few calls, pad a few pockets and you can sleep at a hotel, while someone else cleans this mess up.”

“Then after a good meal, a decent nights sleep, you can think just a little more clearly.”

She reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “I know you want them dead. We’ll catch them, but first let me help you. My car is out front. I can run upstairs and find you a fresh set of clothes or we can buy you something.”

Madeline licked her lips, hoping that this wouldn’t take too long. Clyde and Bunny’s trail would become cold if she had to spend too much time pampering money bags. She chastised herself and then remembered how she felt when she’d faced the abusive nature of the two demented individuals.

A heavy sigh left her lungs as she once again gave the man a gentle squeeze. “You know what, let’s just go and we’ll grab a bite, find you a place to stay and then we’ll talk in the morning, or maybe later tomorrow night, but right now, it’s best if we just get you away from here for a while. You can show me the closest fast food joint and the best flea bag hotel in the area.” She smiled warmly, hoping to show Derrick Waters that she wasn’t just another nosy cop, but she was going to try and be a friend, as well as a detective.

By now 8 soldiers had joined Lil Krazee outside the broken gate to the Waters estate. These men were all dressed in their color from head to toe, the 4 AK-47 assault rifles wielded amongst the crew eliminated the need for stealth.

“You did good Lil Krazee.” A massive black man named Traction told the scout. “We got it from here.”

“She’s just up at the house, I don’t know who that guy is but I doubt he’ll be missed.” Lil Krazee grinned.

Lil Krazee was almost jumping up and down with excitement. This was a big job, passed down directly from ThoatCutta. Once the bitch was dead he would be in with the boss and there was no substitution for good old fashioned clout in this world.

“’Ey! It looks like they commin’ out. Be ready killas.” Traction called back among the ranks, taking his AK up against his broad shoulder to aim. “As soon as they walk out, we start dumpin’, I mean really let ‘em have it.”

Her touch got him moving. Such a small thing, so delicate. The gesture soothing in more ways than he could know. He paused, letting her fingers trail across his cold skin, before he leaned against the bannister and rose up.

For a moment his feet did stall. They cringed from sitting in such a position for so long, pins and needles scampering up his calves. He paused for just a moment, and then made his way up the stairs.

"He took some of my clothes," He said, getting into the bedroom. His speech wasn't so harsh in here, so distant. He felt like he was in the room with her, instead of speaking from miles away. He smiled at that, and his hand touched the back of hers.

"He washed up in here. Got new clothes, brand new start."

He showed her where the clothing was, an entire walk in closet of suits, ties, pants, shirts, and even a dresser for watches. Didn't he just live the life?

He went into the bathroom, taking a shower. The warm water felt good as it fell down around him. Even just breathing in that hot steamy air seemed to refresh him, rejuvinate him.

By the time he returned, seeing clothing set for him on the bed, he smiled. Madeline picked good clothes. He remembered Jennifer used to do that as well. She would set out what he should wear, cause if he didn't he would just wear sweat pants and some old shirt with holes in it. Jennifer had taken care of him.

He put on the clothes, dressing himself as a new man. He had what he needed now, and he could leave. He didn't want to be in this place anymore, didn't want to be here. This had become a tomb, some graveyard of memories and bodies. He'd spent enough time in here.

He followed her down the stairs.

"I think... I think I want to go to Taco Bell. I like Taco Bell. I think the best thing right now would be a greasy meaty burrito dripping with special sauce."

He smiled, imagining it, barely flinching when the first bullets cut through the air.

amber finished her meal and said good bye to teesha as she made her way to the limo waiting outside. " just take me home" she muttered as she got in and the driver shut the door.

looking behind her she seen the prosession of s.u.v.'s following behind her and she couldn't help but grumble. when the limp driver slamed on the breaks and sent her flying across to the other seat she sat up turned around and slaped the poor man in the back of the head." what the hell is wrong with you. your not driving a rag doll back here. did you get your freaking liscence from a cracker jack box or something!!"

with out waiting for a reply she hit the button sending the window deviding them up and closed her eyes waiting to get home.

“Jesus Fuckin’ Christ!” Madeline screamed, pulling her gun from her back, where it lay nestled against the fabric of her shirt between that and her slacks. She jerked Derrick down to the concrete and used the high banister that outlined the porch for protection. Marble and concrete splattered everywhere as the bullets ripped into the expensive home, glass shards sprayed everywhere and Madeline knew they had very little protection from the onslaught of bullets that rained down on them. “Who the fuck is after you now?!” she screamed and pulled her cell phone out. She tossed it to Derrick, ordering him to dail 911.

There was a brief moment of silence and she knew the enemy, whoever it was had taken a moment to reload their weapons. Quickly she glanced to the right and then the left. Her car was a shamble of holes and she cursed as she realized with just the right amount of fire power all her evidence on Clyde and Bunny would be lost. She thought of running to the vehicle, then remembered she was crippled by the civilian by her side. “On three, we get our asses, back in the fucking house. You move and move fast or I may just shoot you myself!”

Madeline gave Derrick no time to question her. She counted fast and loud, pushing him forward and falling on top of him, just as the bullets began to drill into the house once more. She kicked the door closed and covered both their heads as splintered wood played across their skin.

“Come on,” she growled, wondering what kind of sick fucked up world Derrick Waters lived in. “A back door would be nice? A neighbor with a fucking car. . .a helicopter. . .got any of that handy, rich boy?” She was pissed, livid in fact. She had come over here to get some information and treat the widow to a hot meal and now she was shooting her way out of a gunfight, where she was so fucking out numbered it wasn’t funny. “Do you own any weapons? An avid gun collector with too much money to burn so you buy illegal weapons?”

She pushed him to the back of the house, praying they would escape this, or the neighbors or Derrick reached the cops. As she pushed back her now tangled hair, she even found herself hoping the ritzy neighborhood had those wanna-be cops patrolling the area. Anything to even the score a little bit.

It was Lil Krazee who fired the first volley of Tech-9 shells toward the house. The young and overly-excited thug had been so thrilled to see a body in the frame of the open door he didn't even bother to notice that it was some rich guy and not the target.

Once shots were fired though, it no longer mattered what kind of shot people had on the target, the flood gates were open.

Tech-9 and AK-47 rounds painted the side of the high-end home and filling the ritzy neighborhood with the sound of automatic weapon fire. Madeline's car didn't escape the wrath of the South-side Crips.

As if it was coreographed every man armed with a Tech-9 ran out first and they began reloading followed closely by the soldiers armed with AKs. It was when they were all busy reloading that the security-guard for this gated community had the audacity to drive toward the crowd of thugs in his small golf cart, yellow light on the roof flashing away.

Traction was quick to pull his side piece, a police issue pistol he'd lifted off the first cop he'd ever killed. The security guard didn't even get a chance to park his golf-cart before a round splattered his face all over the front of his khaki colored uniform.

"We got rollas inbound!" Traction shouted. "Inside the gates, Pistol and I will get ya'lls backs."

The blue crowd advanced up the Waters' driveway, fully reloaded and awaiting any sign of life that they might be able to snuff out. By now they were less than 10 yards from Madeline's bullet riddled car.

"I'm a writer," He said, biting his lower lip as he did, following her, moving where she told him. That one sentence seemed to answer just about any of her questions. He had no guns here, no aspiring collection... even if he did it would have been confiscated by the police when they searched the place for anything missing.

Wouldn't they? He didn't know, he didn't care. He had nothing, and the way out back led to the pool and a fenced garden. The gate was the only way in or out of this place. The rest was either wall or giant hedge some 15 or 20 feet tall.

"We have the hummer though, in the garage," An old beast of a vehicle. It wasn't one of those new ones, had been given to him as a present for one of his war movie premieres. Everyone got one, the director, the actor, executive producer.

It was a real decommisioned hummer.

He got through to the police, and told them what was happening. Shots fired, his address, whatever else Madeline wished to tell him. It felt good, to do something, to have something to do.

A lot better than he'd felt before. He ducked through the kitchen just as the wall littered itself with bullets.

"The garage is through there," Derrick pointed at the far hallway, beyond the stairs, leading down into his den and then to the garage.

*BleEeEeEeEp* "Yo, ThoatCutta! We got po-pos on their way, I'm sure of it." Traction muttered into his high-tech phone. "I already waxed a security guard, these white folks don't appreciate wild ass niggas in their hood too much."

*BleEeEeEeEp* "Don't worry about it dawg, I got roadblocks set up on both roads leading to your location." ThoatCutta chirpped back. "I also got two captains toating RPGs dirtbiking to ya'lls location. Real niggas don't fuck around! Rememba that Whiteface Killa had our backs."

It was as if Clyde's very mention took Traction's eyes away from the open gate to the car the blue-clad militia was now utilizing as cover. In the front seat there was a manila colored folder, it looked worn and well used. Peeking out of one corner of the folder was Whiteface Killa's face. The entire folder seemed to be full of pictures.

Evidence!

Cops were all the same, always watching but never helping. Out to get suckas caught up but never really concerning themselves with what the real story was. Traction used the butt of his gun to shatter the passenger's side window and snatch up the folder. He tucked it into the back of his baggy pants before giving the next command.

"The family's got our backs, move into the house carefully!" Traction barked, indicating directions. "Remember, this bitch is on Whiteface Killa's radar, so be ready fo' some crazy shit."

Madeline looked around her. The kitchen was probably the fanciest one she’d ever been in. Beautiful copper pots hung from the ceiling and fancy crystal housed behind glass cabinet doors. But she wasn’t interested in that. She was interested in the appliances. Her eyes lit up when she saw the newest microwave on the market. Its door gleamed. No fingerprint on its beautifully polished surface. “Get to the hummer and start that sucker up. I want it in gear when I get out there. Do you hear me?”

She didn’t expect an answer. She lay on her belly and snaked over to the cabinets near the sink. Madeline had no time to check on Derrick to see if he’d done what she told him to do. She knew the assholes were going to come after them, especially once they realized they were tramped in the fucking house. She pulled drawers out and tipped the contents out. She found the duct tape and kissed its gray surface. Under the sink she found cans of disinfectant, air fresheners, and Raid. She snickered. “Even the rich have roaches. She tucked them under her arms and slid over to another set of drawers which were soon dumped and spread out. “Yes!” she squealed and gathered the various batteries that had not yet been opened.

With her stash of aerosol cans and Double D’s she scooted back to the microwave. A volley of bullets crashed against the crystal that was probably worth more then Madeline’s life insurance policy. She counted to five and then sprang up and opened the microwave door, shoving as much as she could into its interior. Quickly she hit the floor as more bullets rained down somewhere inside the home. “Fuck!” she growled and jumped up and lifted the microwave, quickly running duct tape around it several times, before tearing the strip with her teeth, punching in thirty-eight seconds and hitting start.

She ran to the door that led to the garage and prayed that Derrick had lived long enough to get the damn hummer running. She slammed the door shut behind her and dashed over to the passenger side, thankful there weren’t any bullets riddling his body. “Don’t ask! Just go!” she screamed and waited for the rich man with the big ass gas guzzler to haul ass.

The old hummer sputtered to life after three or four tries. It sounded old, angry, unwilling to do anything more than collect dust in the garage. Derrick gave it some gas, willing it to life.

He didn't feel urgency about the situation. He had no fear, no grip around his throat at the thought of guns or killers or impending death hanging over his shoulder. When he got into the car, starting it up, he didn't do it with some inane swiftness.

Perhaps that's why it didn't take so long to get the hummer started. Had he been panicking, doing his best, slipping for the key to turn the ignition, and then flooring it as soon as he heard it roar to life, they would both be dead in the garage with a useless vehicle.

As it turned out, since Derrick had lost his mind, things went a lot smoother.

She had no sooner shut her door then when he shifted into reverse and plowed out of the garage door. Splinters of wood and twisted metal rained down around them as the hummer turned to a sliding stop in the driveway.

Two men stood outside waiting, guns already drawn. He shifted back into drive, plowing down the driveway.

Then he felt the first twinge of pain. It ripped into his leg, the juicy part of his thigh. The bullet went deep, hitting against the bone. He screamed, slamming his other leg down as hard as he could.

Had it been the other side, with the other leg, he would have slammed on the brakes, and their ride would have been over. Surrounded by guns, they would have been shot down without so much as a fighting chance. With some luck though, his left leg winced with pain, his right shot down, hitting the gas pedal to the floor, and rocketing them out into the street.

By sheer luck and chance did he catch the steering wheel enough not to crash into the far gate on the other side of the street. Instead, they weaved back and forth between the two lanes, until he got the hummer under control.

Then, he did slam on the brakes. Up ahead, where the street intersected was a black SUV, with three more guys standing out there, pointing right at Derrick. He spun the hummer around, but stopped as he saw the same thing on the other side. SUV, with people and more guns.

He blinked twice, and then looked back at Madeline.

"I think maybe you should drive."

Lil Krazee was the first to reach the kitchen, he had actually sprayed a few at the target before she ran into the garage. He dashed toward the microwave in pursuit, only to be met by a spinning and jagged piece of shrapnel from the exploding microwave. The copper top wedged itself into Lil Krazee’s temple and ironically, he didn’t keep going. Mostly because the battery continued its path out the back of Lil Krazee’s skull.

Neither did any of the 6 men close on his heels. The impact from the massive explosion blew the microwave door off its hinges, the door itself decapitated the tallest of the Crip-Mob before a shower of flame and shrapnel that sprayed the blue-clad thugs.

Of the original 6 that went into the house only 2 survived, and they still got faces full of hot steel and toxic spray. They stumbled toward the door on their knees, coughing and gagging.

When the Hummer made its aggressive exit from the garage Pistol and Traction were outside. Both shot at the vehicle, trying like hell to shoot Derrick. Traction nearly got Madeline through the side window, but Pistol actually hit Derrick in the leg before the massive vehicle absorbed the majority of his face in the grill.

The Hummer seemed to swallow the man under its beastly hull. He rolled a few times below its engine before being spit out in its wake a sad knot of twisted flesh and broken bones.

*BleEeEeEep* “Yo Thoatcutta! We got a problem! They just smashed out of here in a big ass Hummer, we got casualties.” Traction shouted at his phone, still shooting after the Hummer.

“BleEeEeEep* “Damnit mothafucka how the fuck did ya’ll blow this shit? The bikes oughta be there already.” Thoatcutta yelled back just as the sleek dirtbikes arrived, driven by two men armed with RPG cannons.

Traction pointed in the direction that the Hummer went. They sped off in that direction.

Madeline’s mind was working as fast as it could, when suddenly the Hummer just stopped. With wide disbelieving eyes she looked at him. Her jaw dropping as she stared at first one road block, then another.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” It was then she noticed that Derrick had been shot. The blurt flowed steadily and for that she was thankful, it showed that no major artery had been hit. She also knew he was ready to either pass out or freak out from all that had taken place in his life. Without thinking she slid over and took control of the wheel, and pushed his leg out of the way. She slammed her foot down on the gas, turned the Hummer toward the house that was next to the Water’s now blazing residence and crashed through their gate.

The sound of an explosion to the left of her and Derrick told her that the idiots that were after the rich writer had brought in even more deadly weapons. She cursed, but worked with the adrenaline that was pumping through her veins. The crashed through a fence, and the Hummer bounced all over the place, but Madeline still continued to drive, another explosion shattered the storage shed of one residence home.

“Take my gun and use it. Even if you don’t hit them maybe they’ll ease off just for a bit and we can use it to our advantage.” She lifted her ass, just enough for Derrick to take the weapon. “The safety is off, just point it and pull the trigger, but do something, or we both might as well, just park the fucking truck and offer ourselves up to the nearest shooter.

Madeline made a decision. As soon as she could she was pitching this train wreck of a man and letting the cops protect his sorry ass. Anyone who had this many people hating them had to have done something wrong besides have an unhappy marriage. After they demolished a few marble statues and forced their way through another set of iron gates, Madeline was able to turn the Hummer back onto the street, this time behind the large SUV’s that had blocked one end of the street. Her foot remained on the petal as her thoughts tried to catch up with her pulse.

The pain set in at that point, crushing and pinching. He could feel the bullet as he moved, grinding and pressing into the bone. He winced, wondering if it was lodged in pretty deep. He hoped not... there was so much blood. It just flowed so freely, pooling in the passenger seat.

He took off his new shirt, wrapping it around the leg. He remembered seeing it in movies, wrapping something around a wound, and then pulling tight. He pulled, a low throaty moan escaped as he did so.

The hummer bounced and bumped its way through the yards. He could have done a better job, but they way he was thrown inside of the cab made doing just about any task near impossible.

When he finally did pull the shirt tight, it felt like popping a pimple on the inside. Something pushed even deeper. He screamed, feeling blood ooze out, his whole leg strapped with pain, gripping his entire body and shaking it.

That seeme to have woken him up. When he felt the gun in his hands, he nodded, although mutely. He just felt so exhausted. Today had been overbearing, too many obstacles to go through at once. Maybe she was right, maybe they should just pull over get caught.

He opened the sun roof. A single button on the dash rolled back He emerged from the sun roof, standing on one leg, the other dangling uselessly atop the seat. He couldn't use it, he knew if he did the pain would overwhelm him. He'd become some useless screaming wimp for her. Madeline didn't deserve that.

She'd gone through so much just to save him. She deserved to get out of this alive.

He leveled the gun, firing as best he could. The first few shots went wide, the third hit someone square in the chest, falling down to the pavement and rolling to a stop.

He saw bikes, motorcycles speeding to catch up with them. On the back of those bikes he could see rockets, grenade launchers. Was this serious? He didn't understand, his eyes saw them but his mind refused to compute.

"Rocket launchers," He shot, emptying the gun into the first one. It shot high, going over the hummer and spinning into what looked like Northern Malibu. He must have stumbled onto the lot of some action packed hollywood blockbuster.

He leaned in, grabbing at an extra clip from her pants. His fingers slipped nervously, grabbed it, pulling it out.

"Have we got anything to fight rocket launchers?" He asked, loading the fresh clip.

The first rocket shot right by the massive vehicle as it turned into some rich bastard's front yard. The rocket screamed over the heads of a few crips who fell to the ground to avoid the rocket, unfortunately they could not avoid the explosion that resulted from the rocket hitting the roadback. Crips and police officers alike flew through the air as the huge column of flame enguolfed the ordinarily quiet street.

The man who made the errant shot quickly reloaded and reved after the SUV into the yard. He recieved a hot round in his chest for the effort, the impact knocking him backwards off his bike. When his lifeless body hit the lawn the RPG discharged randomly, blowing the side off of whoever's house this was.

The other bike still pursued the Hummer, awaiting a clean shot. Unfortunately for him Derrick was actually a good shot, he had to dodge on his bike which kept making him lose his bead on the SUV.

Bunny wiggled her fingers in front of Clyde’s nose. At first glance, it might have looked like she was trying to draw attention to the crude ring twisted around her third finger. But he’d seen it, earlier - when she unceremoniously hacked off one of his ratted dreadlocks to make it. She wiggled her fingers again, and then snapped them impatiently. “Clyde...sharesies...”

He took his time passing her the blunt, pausing to blow a teasing lungful of smoke in her face. She was ready to pout, but his hand on her thigh made everything better. She puffed on the joint, sucking the raw smoke and leaning back in her seat contentedly. Thoaty always had the best shit.

She stretched languorously at the thought of a new job, and turned her head to smile at Clyde. Inspired, she clambered across the seat, and half draped herself across his shoulders to whisper in his ear, “I want you to cut on her, baby...let’s make this a slow one - please? And for every cut, I want you to cut on me, too...and then, whoever’s left with a pulse -”

They saw the patrol car at the same time, and he paused only to take the blunt from her fingers before dumping her back into her seat. Bunny could feel her heart pounding as he slowed and pulled onto the shoulder. She let out a cracked giggle and pawed through the duffel bag to find her new toy. Gripping the Tech-9 possessively with both hands, she grinned excitedly. “This one’s mine - Thoaty chose it ‘specially for me.” She wiped her nose and flicked her bangs out of her eyes. “He said a dainty thing like me needs a pretty little semi-automatic, and this is pretty...”

Bunny’s eyes narrowed at Clyde’s answering snort, and she rabbit-punched him twice in the shoulder with her knobby fist. “Shut up - I am so dainty!!”

“Rocket launchers! Fucking no we don’t have anything to handle those.” She rolled her eyes, wondering what the fuck this rich fool thought she carried with her grenades? Madeline wanted to scream and throw things, but she couldn’t. All she could do was smash into things. So she did, happily even. She purposely aimed for things that would make the vehicle twist one way and then the next, hoping to gain a bit of an advantage over the asshole on the bike, who was bound and determined to kill them. She wondered if she pushed Derrick out if she could just save herself and let him die. . .nah, she wasn’t that cold hearted, but she wanted to believe she could.

Madeline located the assailant in her side mirror and reached up to Derrick. “The gun please and get your ass back in the seat. You’re bleeding all over the place.”

She took the weapon in her hand, quickly checked the clip and glanced to Derrick. “Buckle up!” She heard a noise, hoping it was him obeying her and then spun the wheel so the hummer was spinning back toward the man with the launcher. She had only a few seconds to close the distance and she prayed that her unexpected maneuver would give the criminal a start. She raised her weapon, stared into the man’s eyes, just as he lifted the launcher.

Her foot never left the gas as she aimed them right for the fool. Sweat beaded on her lip as she pulled the trigger and watched the man’s skull shatter. As he stared back at her stunned, his bodies reflexes finished working and the rocket sailed through the air. It shattered the replicated statue of Venus and marble flew in all direction’s, but Madeline focused on driving. She slammed gears and spun the vehicle back around, then darted her way through various cars that were parked along the road, before finally gaining the upper hand and taking Derrick and her out of the war zone.

“Where in the fuck is the nearest hospital? And call the police again, tell them to meet us there.” She paused in her tirade and pushed her hair back. “Then you can tell me how many people hate you, because obviously your wife isn’t the only one!”

*BleEeEeEep* "What the fuck do you mean they got away? I just sent a whole goddamn militia in there, you're telling me at all that firepower isn't enough to kill one dumb bitch?"

*BleEeEeEep* "I'm sorry boss, they had a Hummer, and some kind of bomb in the damn house. We got the bitch's car though, and some evidence she was holding on Whiteface-Killa."

*BleEeEeEep* "At least that's something, make sure you gather up those rocket launchers and come back to HQ. They may have gotten away for now, but so long as they're in my city, I can get to them."

Traction made his way into the yard through which Madeline had escaped, now torn to shit by explosions and skiding tire marks through the grass. He shouldered the two RPGs that lay atop his fallen comrades.

This was obviously a very dangerous woman, Traction was certain he'd see her again though.

***

"Alright then Miss dainty, would you mind not getting me shot by daintily waiving that thing where he can see it." Clyde sighed, supressing a laugh.

Not like anything could be made out clearly through the smoke filled Hummer. The cop was already making his way over to the window, clearly geeked at the prospect of busting them for Clyde's brazen drug use while driving. A very foolish man indeed.

The thick smoke was cut by the officer's flashlight that he shone into the car. That same light tapped on the window slightly, clyde calmly complied by rollig down the window and greeting the officer with a huge puff of Thoaty's best chronic. Smoke billowed from the car when he opened the window, the officer was incredibly serious.

"Sir, I detect the presence of marijuana." The cop said sternly.

"Oh shit baby, we got us a detective here!" Clyde said to Bunny his hand gratuitously fondling her bottom. "Here I was worried that you were some dumb shit, know nothing, low ranking highway patrol officer. But since you're a detective you must know that this car is stolen. Did you detect that too?"

"Sir step out of the car right now."

"My wife never hated me," He sat, defeated in the chair, his seat belt clinching his bony shoulders with a tightness he'd never felt before. Somehow, everything had just left him at that phrase, it all turned back to the moment of him staring at her chalk outline, some last living remnant of her before passing.

The place where she breathed her last, the moment she stopped moving, all there, categorized for people to see and hear and understand. The death of Jennifer, the final moments of her pathetic miserable little life

Yes, they're right here, come on and take a look. Oh yeah, fucking bitch hated her husband so she hired some killers, but they got her instead. Left him alive to wallow in self pity and depression. Not only did the one girl he love betray him, why she up and died as well. Don't that beat all. Hate to be that poor fucker right now.

"She was just confused. She told me she was confused. We... we worked it out during dinner. No one hates me. I have no enemies, I'm not some fucking mob boss, I'm a writer. I'm a damned writer, can't you understand that? The only person who ever wanted me dead was Clyde. Bunny and Clyde. No one else."

He pointed to a sign that gave directions to the hospital. By the time they arrived cops were waiting, ambulances in tow, doctors and nurses. He was helped from the hummer carefully to a waiting gurney.

"I'm sorry we didn't go to get Taco Bell," He shouted, amidst the chaos of police and doctors, "Maybe next time."

He tried to look for her, but she was swallowed by a group of police, asking questions. He thought he would be too, if he wasn't going to be rushed into the operating room.

He paused, laying back on the gurney, letting everything drift away.