La Familia 2

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The loaded clip to the 9 mm easily slid into the chamber like dick into pussy and the tool was ready for death. The hammer was cocked back and the safety switched off. The gun, in the hands of a killer, was ready to create a homicide on a cold Friday night. The young boy with the gun in his hand was only sixteen years old, and already was a hardcore gangster to the bone: wired for murder, being numb to violence and taking a human life by the gun. He had already seen things that scarred his mind for life: murder, rape, violence, and jail. His eyes and heart were cold as frost forming on a car windshield on an early winter morning.

The burning weed was being passed between the four hoodlums riding in a stolen Chevy Impala with tinted windows. The four young hardcore hoodlums with rap sheets as long as their arms were part of a notorious gang who called themselves the Bronx Mafia Boys, one of New York's most infamous and violent gangs with over 2,000 committed members. They intentionally drove into enemy territory seeking out their rival to kill, the Young Gangster Crew.

Rap music blared inside the car. It was a dark and wintry night; the Chevy slowly turned corner to corner, seeking to destroy. Young DJ took a pull from the weed between his lips and inhaled the potent drug to soothe his mood. He took several more pulls and then passed the joint to one of his cohorts next to him and leaned into the back seat of the car. He gripped the gun and was ready to see some action. The Bronx was his home; the gang was his loyalty and nothing else in his life mattered but his street family and his violent reputation.

For months now, both of these violent drug crews, The Bronx Mafia boys and Young Gangster Crew had been warring over northern territory in the Bronx and residents and the neighborhood found themselves in the middle of World War III. Since the life sentence Rico received in his RICO trial, the streets and the drug market was left wide open for fledging gangsters and drug crews making their way up the ladder and solidifying a position on the streets. Bloodshed started to become a regular in the Bronx streets. People were scared to leave their homes. Edenwald was starting to look like Baghdad; gunshots and bloodshed was becoming a common thing like children playing and traffic going by.

Muppet, the alpha male in the car, took a pull from the blunt and exhaled. His attire screamed hardcore gang banger: red bandanna tied around his head, the dark teardrop underneath his eye, jeans sagging, Timberlands on his feet, and an automatic resting on his lap. As the car moved about, he kept a keen eye out on the streets. The members were going head hunting, meaning first rival they saw on sight, it was a shot to their dome.

“Yo, damn it's a slow fuckin' night, ain't nobody out this bitch,” the driver said.

“It's cold as fuck out here, that's why,” Muppet replied.

“Been drivin' around this bitch for an hour and ain't no action happening,” Young DJ chimed.

“We gon' find sumthin'.”

“Shit, we better. I'm gettin' tight just drivin' around this bitch,” the driver said. “Gas ain't fuckin' cheap.”

“Doe shut the fuck up! This ain't even ya fuckin' car,” Muppet hollered.

“I'm sayin', Muppet, we almost riding on E out this bitch.”

“And? We gonna keep ridin' out this bitch until we prove our point, and I don't give a fuck if we gotta ride around on fumes, fuck that shit, I'm tryin' to make this money out here and ain't no fuckin' body stepping on my ends! Ya niggas fuckin' hear me?” Muppet exclaimed.

“Yeah, we hear you,” everyone answered simultaneously.

“So shut the fuck up, stop acting like some whining-ass bitches, and let's do this shit.”

The driver and Young DJ nodded.

Everyone knew not to argue with Muppet. He was crazy, a fuckin' lunatic, and his violent and deadly reputation preceded him. The entire Bronx borough heard of Muppet's name; from Sound View to Yonkers, he was a stone-cold killer. And the reason why he wasn't locked up yet for his transgressions was because he had the streets on lock with fear and there weren't too many folks lined up at the district attorney's office ready to snitch on him. He beat two murder cases, one drug case, and seemed to be the urban Teflon Don.

Now Muppet had his sights set on Rico's old hood. It was highly profitable; the traffic in the area was rich, from 233rd Street stretching to Laconia Avenue, down to 225th Street, and it was a fuckin' goldmine. And every crew looking to expand into Edenwald wanted control of it.

Muppet took a strong pull from the blunt and sat back. His eyes were glued out the window. The cold didn't seem to affect him. He wore a T-shirt along with his gang attire. He made his affiliation strongly known wherever he went, making him not just a mark for other rival gangs, but to the police also. But Muppet had this agenda: come up by any means necessary.

The Chevy slowly rounded the corner on Baychester Avenue and headed south. Weed smoke engulfed the car, and another joint was lit. As they approached Boston Avenue, the group spotted three young hoods exiting the KFC on the corner. It was dark and frigid and everyone was bundled snuggly in their winter coats and wool ski hats. One of the men leaving the fast food KFC lit a cigarette and laughed with his cronies. They were members of the YGC (Young Gangster Crew), and it was written all over their street garb like walking advertisements.

The three men paid no attention to the dark Chevy slowly approaching their way. The traffic on the street was sparse because of the winter month and the cold. KFC was closing up; the trio was walking toward a parked Dodge on the street.

Muppet lit up like a Christmas tree when he noticed his foes out in the open cold like the wind blowing. He gripped his automatic with a steely glare and sang out, “It's time for some action. Time, time, time for some action. Get up real close on these clown-ass niggas, yo,” he told the driver.

The car came close; the window slowly came down with the cold rushing into the car like hurricane wind. Muppet flicked the dying joint out the window and focused his attention on his targets. The men walked and talked unknowing of the danger. Muppet leaned out the window with his arm outstretched with the pistol at the end of it. He set his sights on his kill. The cold and the late night made the streets empty. Muppet aimed as the car he was riding in approached closer, his foes had their backs turned to him. He smirked, shouted out, “Punk-ass bitches!” catching the men's attention and when they turned around to see where the insult was coming from, Muppet didn't hesitate to fire.

Bak! Bak! Bak! Bak! Bak!

The five gunshots echoed through the cold night and all three men dropped to the cold pavement like timber wood being cut down. Muppet hit all three like the deadly marksman he was. But it was evident that they all weren't dead. Only two lay lifeless against the cold concrete; the third was still alive, crawling to some unseen safety on his hands and knees. He was bleeding badly being shot twice in his side.

Muppet told them to stop the car. He wanted to finish the job. He didn't want to see any survivors. He had a deep-rooted hatred for the YGC and wanted to send them all to hell. He climbed out the car with the smoking gun in his hand and hurried toward his helpless foe. Muppet was about to enhance his murderous street reputation by tenfold. He stood over the powerless soldier smirking, then aimed his gun at the back of the man's head and fired multiple rounds. And when he saw the back of his head explode in bloodshed it gave him a pleased feeling of accomplishment; three less YGC niggas to worry about in the Bronx.

Muppet climbed back into the car and jubilantly shouted, “Now that's how you kill a muthafucka!”

His peoples weren't shocked; it was their way of life since they knew how to walk. Their enemies shot at them, and they shot back.

The Chevy sped away, leaving the bloody crime scene behind for police to figure it out. But it was obvious to the hood that the shooting would be considered gang related. And the boys murdered in cold blood ranged from fifteen to seventeen years old.