Me and My Hittas 3

Chapter 3

Chapter One

Domino sat behind the Plexiglas in the visiting room watching as his big homeboy, Paybacc, was ushered in by a C.O. Paybacc was a tall, hulk of a man whose body was covered in muscles. He had cold soulless eyes and rope thick dreads that showed signs of graying. He’d been locked up nearly thirteen years for blasting on the police. And although he’d successfully shot one of them he wish he’d killed them both for all of the time he’d gotten.

Paybacc sat his bulky frame down on the tiny stool. For a while he sat there just staring at Domino. Suddenly, he smiled exposing the gold-capped tooth in his grill. Domino managed a weak smile although he had something heavily on his mind. He picked up the telephone and his big homie picked up his.

“What’s up with chu, Loco?” Paybacc asked in a husky voice.

“Ain’t s**t, cuz, just been out here tryna get this money,” Domino told him. He was a slender bronze skinned dude. The four moles at the corner of his eye were placed how they’d be on an ivory domino, which was why he’d been given the name.

“I know that’s right.”

“Who’s the lil’ homie?” he asked of the brown skinned kid sitting on the stool beside him. His head would have been shaved completely bald if not for the patch of braids at the back of his noggin. The black sunglasses shielded his bloodshot, weed slanted eyes from the world.

“It’s me, Wacko, cuz,” the youth pulled his sunglasses down.

Paybacc laughed and smiled, “Oh, s**t. I remember when you were ‘bout yay high. Damn, time flies by, how old are you now, lil’ cuz?”

“Nineteen.”

“Yeah, cuz is from the hood now.” Domino informed.

Paybacc nodded his approval and banged his hood to his heart. Wacko returned the gesture. Paybacc knew the little dude since he was six years old, running around the hood getting into all kinds of mischief. He was given the name Wacko when he shot at a couple of cops with a B.B gun. It was through this act that the homies knew that he either had heart, or was crazy as cat s**t. Either way they wanted him down with the set.

“Anyway, what’s up in the cold world?” Paybacc switched subjects. Sadden expressions crossed Domino and Wacko’s faces and they exchanged glances. And it was from this brief exchange that their OG knew something was wrong. “Domino, what’s cracking? This big homie, I need you to be on the up and up.” He wore a mask of seriousness as he stared into his little homie’s eyes.

Paybacc knew all about the drug war between Nightmare and Pavielle. However, he didn’t know Nightmare had been added to the long list of casualties. When Domino told him how Nightmare had been killed, he looked to be unfazed by the news. His only reply was, “I’ll be home next week, cuz. Y’all niggaz be ready.” He then hung up the telephone and rose to his feet, throwing up his set before being taken away by the C.O.

$$$

Paybacc called for a meeting with the homies in his cell. He informed them of Nightmare’s death. The homies got all riled up and vowed to get revenge. Nightmare was widely respected by his neighborhood. He’d devoted his entire life to his set and put in more work than three gangsters combined. He received both fear and respect when he walked the streets and his death brought both grief and relief.

“When I touch the streets these niggaz are gone feel it, cuz. On me,” a homie with a jagged scar leading from his ear to his mouth swore, clenching his jaws and balling his fists.

“Nigga, you got five more years before you touchdown,” a homie sporting a baldhead reminded him. “It’s some Twinkies in the rec room we can smash right now.”

“About how many?” Paybacc frowned, placing his hand on baldhead’s shoulder.

“Four.” Baldhead held up four fingers.

“f**k we waiting for then?” scarred face asked, cracking his knuckles.

“Y’all go get y’all bangers and meet me back in my house, we’re gonna wet these niggaz shirts.” Paybacc promised with a screw face.

A few minutes later

The homies entered the rec room with Paybacc bringing up the rear. Slyly, he passed the C.O at the door a hundred dollar bill and he walked off. As soon as the O.G crossed the threshold inside of the recreational room he noticed that the lights were out. The convicts sat quietly watching The Crow on TV. Baldhead pointed to the front row where the Bloods were seated. When the convicts saw Paybacc and his homies standing at the door, whispers spread throughout the audience like a plague and one by one the convicts got up and left. Paybacc and the homies swarmed the Bloods like angry wasps, gripping their lethal weapons tightly. The blue illumination from the television caused their blades to gleam while en route to hand down multiple death sentences. Feeling the aura of a threat approaching, one of the Bloods turned around in his chair. His eyes grew as big as saucers and his mouth formed an O when he saw one of the Crips swinging his shank for his chest.

“Rahhhhhh,” He threw his head back roaring like an injured lion, feeling the shank slam into his chest. It was yanked back out and slammed back into him consecutively. Once he toppled over in his chair, the crip straddled his ass and kept putting in that work, speckles of blood clinging to his shirt and face. All hell broke loose as the lights were cut back on. Niggaz were hollering, yelling, and scattering like roaches when the lights came on. The Crips were on their enemies like a pride on gazelles, driving their blades in and out of their bodies. The sound of sharp metal stabbing into flesh was heard along with the bloodcurdling screams of men. One of the Bloods tried to run and was quickly ran down and stabbed with extreme prejudice. Paybacc held one of the Bloods by his throat with an iron grip, his eyes burned with fire as he stared his victim in the eyes.

“This is for Nightmare!” the mountain of muscle grumbled, driving his seven inch ice-pick like shank into the Blood’s chest, snapping two of his ribs.

“Ahhhhhhh!” his enemy unleashed a scream so horrible that it caused his attacker’s eardrums to ache and tremble. The wounded man’s jaw dropped and his eyes bugged as he stared up at his killer. With a grunt, Paybacc drove his shank deeper into the poor bastard’s chest, lifting him to the tips of his sneakers. Blood ran from the corner of his mouth and his bottom jaw quivered, slobbering red s**t. He stared at Paybacc wide eyed, wondering what he’d done to have such a brutal assault brought against him. The ice-pick was broke off in his chest and he fell to the floor like a ragdoll, bleeding like stuck pig. Paybacc took the time to admire his handiwork before kicking the hell out of the corpse.

“Five Owe, cuz.” one of the homie’s warned from the door. The mountain of muscle and the homies spilled out of the rec room, leaving three Bloods dead and six others critically injured.

The prison was put on lock-down after the stabbings. And as a result Paybacc was left in his cell with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company. He thought that bringing it to the Bloods would make him feel better, but in all actuality their deaths weren’t enough. Gallons upon gallons of blood would have to be spilled before he’d even begin to feel a twinge of satisfaction. When Nightmare was killed he lost a brother, son, and friend all in one. It was something inside of him that wanted him to cry, but the tears wouldn’t flow from his eyes. The only emotion he’d ever experienced when dealing with a tragedy was anger. And the only way he could ease the pain was through violence. Harming others was the only thing that made him feel better. It brought him peace.

Lying back in his bunk with his hands clasped behind his head, a devilish smile stretched across Paybacc’s face. In seven more days he’d be out on the streets and causing more drama than ever before. He was going to bring hell upon Booby Loco and the Rolling 20s Bloods in the name of his fallen comrade. The heat he’d bring was sure to solidify his legend. He’d be talked about for ages like the old school gangsters before him.

The streets weren’t ready, but they had better start preparing for O.G Paybacc’s return.

$$$

“No homo, but did you see the size of that mothafucka? He was huge.” Wacko exclaimed as he rode in the front passenger seat of Domino’s whip. He was speaking on Paybacc’s buff neck ass.“How much you think cuz benching, ‘bout 350, 400?”

Domino shrugged as he guided his ‘76 Impala S.S through the streets. One hand gripped the steering wheel while the other held the lighter that lit the blunt dangling from the corner of his lips. He took a pull and then blew smoke from his nose and mouth, polluting the air. “It’s ‘bout to be some s**t when that nigga there touches the trenches, you can believe that. If they thought Nightmare was a headache, they for damn sure don’t want none of Paybacc.” He passed the blunt off to Wacko and shook his head. If all of the streets knew what he knew about his homeboy’s return then they asses would go underground.

Wacko took a couple of puffs of the blunt and said, holding the smoke in his lungs, “I’ve heard some wild stories about cuz while I was coming up. If he’s anything like I hear he is, I wouldn’t wanna bump shoulders with ‘em. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not scared of nan nigga out here. I’m just saying, I’d buck his big ass down before I squared up with ‘em, ya feel me?”

“I hear you talking.” Domino took his hand from the steering wheel to give him a quick pound. “You say you wanna earn a name for yourself, right? Well, hang with me and the big homie and niggaz will forever remember lil’ Wacko from Gangstas.”

Wacko smiled as he thought about the hood stardom he’d have brushing shoulders with the likes of a gangster of Paybacc’s caliber. True, he was already building quite the reputation for himself, but doing dirt with Paybacc would solidify his G status. He couldn’t wait until the O.G touched down so they could tear s**t up. Him, Domino, and Paybacc were gonna be like Three the Hard Way; the Eastside Crips version.