God Bless the Trappers 2

CHAPTER ONEThe large, thick, iron double doors opened outward with a loud squeal, and then Drennen came strolling out casually, taking a gander at his surroundings. He had a haircut so fresh that he still had hair inside of his ears. He wore his signature glasses and crucifix, along with a button-down shirt. His shirt was tucked into his slacks, which had a snakeskin leather belt that held them up on his waist. His pants were starched to a crisp, lying over some black leather shoes. His shoes were polished to a shine so fine that he could see his smiling face in them. The nigga looked like a corporate thug in his attire, especially with the gold Rolex watch adorning his wrist. Drennen hoisted his sack over his shoulder and placed a jeweled hand over his brows, peering up at the beaming hot sun. He narrowed his eyelids and a smile stretched across his lips. Homie was happy to have his freedom. It had been a while since he’d been out in the world, and he planned to take full advantage of it. After taking a deep breath, the smile stretched further across his face. Although the air had smelled something awful, he welcomed it into his lungs. Having been incarcerated, he realized that it was the smaller things in life that mattered. Drennen was about to begin his journey back to Los Angeles, when something far off in the distance grabbed his attention. Sitting his sack of belongings down on the ground, he removed his glasses and fogged its lenses with his breath. Whipping out a handkerchief, he flapped it out and used it to clean his glasses. He slid them back on his face, adjusted them, and narrowed his eyelids. Looking ahead, he spotted a red stretch Hummer on 28-inch chrome rims that was driving in his direction. He massaged his goatee, wondering who it was on board the sexy machine, but no one came across his mental. Drennen hoisted his sack over his shoulder and began his trek, when the humongous vehicle came to a halt before him, freezing him in his tracks. The Hummer was still and quiet. Instinctively, Drennen went for his waistline, but then he remembered he’d just been released from prison and he wasn’t strapped. Having realized this, he dropped his hand to his side and waited to see what was going to happen next. There was a prolonged silence, and then the back door opened and two bikini clad women slid out. One was bronze and the other was caramel, but they both were startlingly attractive. The moment that nigga Drennen saw them, he felt his d**k nudge at his zipper. The caramel girl smiled and waved at him, batting her long eyelashes flirtatiously. While she was doing this, her counterpart ducked off inside of the vehicle and pulled out a sign, holding it to her chest. Drennen took a good look and saw that the sign had his government scrolled across it. Seeing this, he went on to approach the ladies. They ducked off inside and waited for him to climb in behind them. He did. The bronze beauty broke out the champagne flutes and began pouring up the glasses. While she was doing this, caramel took the liberty to roll up a bleezy of that Loud. Having licked the blunt closed, she swept the golden flame of the lighter back and forth beneath it to seal it shut. She took a couple of puffs from the end of it and passed it to Drennen, who indulged in it as well. Before he knew it, the bronze girl was passing him one of the flutes. They all toasted to his freedom and bomb ass s*x. Drennen threw back what was left in his flute and set it aside. One of the girls gave him a black wooden box with golden locks on it. He took the time to pop the locks. Once he opened the lid, he found two golden envelopes, one of which was fatter than the other, and a Ghost Gun. A Ghost Gun was a firearm completely untraceable. It was expensive too, ranging anywhere from $5,000 to $10,000. Switching hands with the blunt, the first thing Drennen opened was the fat golden envelope. Once he had thumbed through all the bluish-green Benjamin Franklins inside, he closed it back up and sat it back inside of the box. Next, he opened the other golden envelope and pulled out the letter, which he unfolded and read. His eyes moved from side to side, as he fed his mind the information on the letter. Drennen folded the letter back up and took the lighter from caramel. He set the end of the letter on fire and watched it curl up and turn black, as the flame ate away at it. He stared at the burning piece of paper with a serious, concentrated look in his eye. Next, he held down the button that operated the back window, descending it. The limo was speeding, so he could hear the noise of other speeding vehicles blowing past. Tossing the burning letter out of the window, he rolled it back up and went back to smoking. Drennen picked The Ghost Gun up from out of the box, checking its magazine and its sighting. Satisfied with the craftsmanship of the lethal weapon, he placed it back inside of its placement and shut the box. He sat the box beside him and, when he looked up, his hooded eyes saw the bronze girl was tearing open the golden foil of a Magnum condom and the caramel one was swiftly unbuckling his slacks. It wasn’t long before his hardness was being pulled from its confinement, and the latex was being rolled down his shaft. The bronze girl slipped off her bikini bottom and squatted over his erection. Taking it by its shaft, she guided it inside of her warmth, hissing like a snake as it filled her up. Once she’d found her rhythm, she went ham on the d**k while her homegirl sucked on the ex-con’s nut sack. Drennen threw his head back and his eyelids fluttered like a butterfly’s wings, enjoying his homecoming gifts. His ears were flooded with the sensual moans of the women, the suction noise from his sack being sucked, and the noisy leather seat of the limo as he was being rode. Continuing to ride her f**k-buddy, the bronze girl took the blunt that was pinched between his fingers and took drags. She polluted the air with smoke as she worked up a sweat. Drennen laid back, looking through narrowed eyelids with a smirk plastered on his lips. He was in heaven now. Omar broke him off with a nice chunk of change, set him up in a fully furnished apartment, gotten him clothes, shoes, and even a gun. All he had to do was take care of whatever business that his homeboy had for him and this nigga was financially straight. For now, he would enjoy himself because once he went to see his people and got his personal business in order, he was going to take care of the business that was assigned to him. That night Drennen had been having what he’d deemed the greatest night of his life. The girls that showed up in the stretch Hummer to get him from prison f****d and sucked the soul out of his ass. Them hoes had his head f****d up, performing s****l acts on him that he didn’t even know existed. Their skill and knowledge on how to please the opposite s*x reminded him of how long he’d been gone. It was okay though. He was going to take what he learned from them that night and use it on the next broads he laid the pipe to. As of now, Drennen was trekking his way back from towards the double electric doors of CVS. He had run out of condoms and liquor, and the ladies were still good to go; they just needed a little incentive to keep the party going. Since he’d have the broads on deck until tomorrow morning, he figured he may as well take advantage of the situation. Not only did he purchase the condoms and alcoholic beverages of the ladies’ choice, but he also grabbed a pack of Zig Zags for the weed he’d procured on his way over to the hotel. Drennen crossed the threshold out of CVS and met the night’s cool air. Flipping up the collar of his suit’s jacket and tucking his chin, he gritted his teeth. Narrowing his eyelids, he shook a little, as he was trying to keep warm. Standing where he was, he allowed his neck to crane as he was looking for the stretch Hummer that he had until tomorrow evening. A line creased his forehead. The supermarket’s parking lot was scarcely occupied, which would make it easier for him to spot the chauffer driven Hummer, but it wasn’t anywhere in sight. “Where the f**k is this nigga, man? It’s cold as a b***h out here.” Drennen pulled out the cellular he’d purchased earlier that day and dialed up the chauffer. The phone rang and rang, but no one ever picked up. He tried again but, still, no one answered. Pissed off, he disconnected the call, just as the voicemail picked up and stashed the cellphone back inside of his pocket. He glanced at his Rolex and took another look around, taking a deep breath. Afterwards, he made his way through the parking lot, liquor bottles clinking inside of the brown paper bag he was toting. Drennen was making his way down the block when he saw something stirring within the shadows out the corner of his eye. Quickly, he whipped his head around and narrowed his eyelids; he was hoping to see what he seen from his peripheral. At that moment, as if by magic, several individuals appeared clutching lethal weapons. They all wore ski masks over their faces. Instantly, Drennen’s heart thudded inside of his chest and his adrenaline surged through his veins, raising his blood pressure. His eyebrows lowered and wrinkles formed at the beginning of his nose. His head snapped around in all directions as he switched hands with the brown paper bag, alarm wailed inside of his head. Danger! Danger! Run! Run! Run! He ignored it though. That would be the day that old Drennen ran from a fight; he was far from p***y. Before Drennen knew it, a total of six men had surrounded him, coming at him from all angles. He was trapped in the ring of them. Seeing this, he cautiously sat his brown paper bag down on the sidewalk. Keeping a close eye on the visible threats, he slowly loosened his tie from around his neck and removed his suit’s jacket. He then threw his suit’s jacket high up into the air towards a tree. It landed perfectly on the end of one of the tree’s branches, hanging itself there. This situation was life or death, which was nothing new to Drennen. Hell, he’d faced situations like this back in prison. For him, this was just another day at the office. His head whipped around in every direction; his suspecting eyes took in the evil glares of the men itching to make him a statistic. The first had a katana, the second a switch blade, the third a Bo staff, the forth nun chucks, the fifth a chain and the last one, a machete. They were watching him closely and he was watching them, waiting for them to make the first move. “Aaaah!” one of the men hollered out, charging forth with his Bo staff. “Ugh!” Drennen kicked him in his chest and sent his ass flying back from where he came, staff going up in the air. He hit the ground hard, lying flat out and moaning in pain. A moment later, his staff fell to the ground on its bottom and landed on its side, rolling a little. Bwrap! Bop! Crack! Drennen’s fists and feet came lightning fast. The attack he launched against his challengers brought them looks of excruciation, and this etched a sinister smile across his face. The drama made his d**k hard; the mothafucka lived for it. Ping! Ting! Clink! Ging! The nun chucks, machete, switch blade, and katana hit the ground right after its owners did. Five of the six men were lying scattered on the ground with bruises and cuts on their faces. With them out of the fight, their comrade was left to fight Drennen alone. The last man standing and Drennen circled one another, counter clockwise. They were locked into an intense stare down, examining one another while trying to figure out their next attack. The man with the chain held it at one end while he winded the other end with the padlock attached to it. Abruptly, Drennen stopped where he was and narrowed his eyelids at him. The nigga with the chain did the same but kept on whirling his weapon, making it spin around in a blur like a helicopter propeller. The old hitta cracked a smile and flicked his nose, licking his lips. He moved around like the skilled martial artist that he was. His challenger’s face twisted with anger and he unleashed a war cry, swinging the chain in his enemy’s direction. The padlock end of the chain came flying at Drennen’s face. He jumped up in the air and kicked that s**t, sending it flying back at his enemy. The man’s face balled up in agony as he was cracked in his hairline by his own weapon. The assault split his wig open and a crimson river came spilling down his scalp, drenching his face. The impact from the attack sent his ass sailing backwards, legs going up in the air, showing the bottoms of his sneakers. He hit the surface and flipped over on his stomach, sliding across the ground. Grimacing, he attempted to get up, but his wound left him too weak to defend himself. He tried to push up off the ground and went slamming back down into it, busting his mouth. The defeated man took a last breath and blew debris up in the air. Drennen stood where he was, taking a good look at all the niggaz whose asses he’d whooped. Seeing he had dispatched all the men that had come for his head, he threw his head back and took a deep breath, releasing tension from his body. His face and the back of his neck were beaded with sweat. Hearing clapping at his rear, he whipped around ready for more. His eyebrows were arched, his nose was scrunched up, his jaws were squared, and his fists were clenched. The hostility drained from his face once he saw someone approaching him from out of the shadows, steadily clapping their hands. The further the person advanced in his direction, the more of them was revealed, starting at his sneakers and ending at his face. Drennen acknowledged who it was standing before him, clapping their hands as if he had just finished watching an astonishing performance. Drennen let his arms drop at his sides, staring at the man that had approached him from out of the shadows. The old hitta’s chest rose and fell as he breathed heavily, nostrils flaring, disturbing his nose hairs. “What the f**k are you doing here?” Wonderment creased Drennen’s forehead. He was completely taken off guard by the sudden appearance of his old friend. “What do you think?” Omar asked. A confused look spread across Drennen’s face and he looked at all the men that he had laid out in the brawl. They were all lying on the ground moaning and bleeding, respective weapons lying not too far from them. “Wait a minute, man, you mean to tell me that chu sent all of these mothafuckaz at me?” His hand swept around to all the men lying at his feet that he’d dispatched with ease. Although he was an older man, he was still quick on his feet. Locked up, he stayed in shape through jail workouts and ate as healthy as he could, under the conditions he was living under. “Every last one of they sorry asses.” Omar looked around at all the men that were lying on the ground moaning and groaning painfully. His forehead was wrinkled and his lips were twisted, as he shook his head. He hated he spent good money on the men. Although he knew that they couldn’t possibly see his homeboy with the hands, he was hoping that the poor bastards would have at least given him a show. “Five racks down the goddamn drain.” He kicked one of the strewn men in their side, causing them to howl out in pain. He then spat on him and licked his lips. The nasty glob splattered against the man’s forehead and dripped off his brow, landing on the sidewalk. “Yo, Omar, f**k you sending niggaz for my head for?” Drennen scowled, curious as to what was going on because it really didn’t make sense to him. Why in the hell would Omar send hittas to take him out, when he wanted him on his payroll? “Loosen ya girdle, nigga. I had to make sure that you still had it.” He took the time to light up a cigarette, cupping his hand around the flame and then blowing out a cloud of smoke. He then took the square from between his lips and tapped it, dumping grayish black ashes to the ground. “Well.” Drennen straightened out his shirt and brushed imaginary lent from off his button-down’s sleeves. “Does the old man still got it or what?” “Oh, you most definitely still got it. I’ll be in touch.” Omar polluted the air with more smoke and looked down the block, whistling. After he’d done this, he motioned over whoever he was looking up the street for. A moment later, an Excursion came to a screeching halt behind him, beside the curb. The enormous SUV’s beautiful paint job gleamed underneath the illumination of the light posts lining the street. The front passenger window was down, so Candy could be seen behind the wheel, blowing huge bubbles out of her gum. Once the bubble popped, she sucked the gum back into her mouth and started back chewing, motioning for her man to hop into the truck, saying, “Come on, daddy!” “Welcome home, my nigga.” Omar headed toward his Excursion. Throwing open the passenger door, he climbed into the front seat and slammed the door shut behind him. He took a pull from his cigarette and tilted his head back, blowing smoke up into the air. He then signaled for Candy to drive ahead and she obliged him, taking off into the night. She drove ahead until the red brake lights of the truck disappeared into the darkness. Once Omar had disappeared, Drennen looked up the block at the enormous SUV for a minute. He then picked up his brown paper bag and walked off, heading back toward his motel room. He bopped from left to right, acting as if he didn’t have a care in the world.