THE PLAY

CHAPTER I
Heavy Metal was bending and bricks were crumbling as they came through wrecking shit! They were flying at top speeds down a one-way – going the wrong way! Loud booms, bangs, gunshots, and police sirens filled the air, creating a doomsday-like panic. Pandemonium! People were running and screaming, glasses were shattering and cars were slamming into local establishments as motorists attempted to avoid head-on collisions.
Doom, Doom, Doom! The AK spit hellfire at the police. His finger was locked around the trigger, as he sprayed aimlessly, making a gangsta’s getaway.
Shockingly, there was a beauty behind the wheel. She was calm and cool, wondering how she wound up in such a predicament and most important how would she make it out… alive? In her rearview, there was death, destruction, and the police, and all of it was catching up to them. O Lord, don’t let me die tonight, was her prayer. Her cry was, I’m too pretty for jail. Therefore, she switched the gear and mashed the gas harder. The car accelerated headfirst down a one-way on the highway to hell!
This nigga was in the passenger side with the seat laid-back, mask still covering his face, Newport dangling from his lips, smoke clearing out of his nostrils, each hand held a dirty Harry four-four, two six shooters, twelve shots– not enough to waste one bullet. He needed to use each bullet sparingly, like an expert sharp shooter. He played the cut, watching all the action through his rearview. And, he was listening to his man on the roof of the car yelling, “yeehaw,” and “come and get me, mother fuckers!”
The bitch that was driving was too pretty to be in this shit, but this is what she wanted. He was always a gangsta. She was just beautiful. Now, she was both gangsta and cute. Her beauty was tainted because all gangsters have an ugly side. And, oh my God, he did not want her to die tonight! However, death was lurking and he could not save her from the grim reaper. Bitch– you reap what you sow.
If this was his end, “fuck it,” this is how he always dreamed it to be, going out on some ‘all for the love of the money’ shit, banging out with the Police. He blinked his eyes and sat up. Why was there a car coming at them, at the same speed that they were moving, maybe even faster. The driver in the oncoming vehicle was not letting up. He looked over at this bitch driving, she was not letting up. She had a demon in her eyes… hell rider.
Whoa– this was it! His heart rate sped up once he saw that neither this bitch nor that car coming at them head-on was going to divert their course. He made his move and jumped out of the passenger side of the car that was moving at one hundred miles per hour.
She believed that the driver of the other car would turn. Bad Gamble. When she saw that he was on some Kamikaze stuff and was not going to turn, it was too late for her to turn. Her head hit the seat violently on impact—she jerked forward and her torso crashed into the airbag. The engine of the other car sat in her lap, or where her lap used to be. Now, it was just mush. Her beautiful face was just freckled with shattered glass, and she was just eighteen. She just died on some gangsta shit.
The nigga on the roof busting the AK screaming, “heehaw”, “woo woo” and “mother fuckers”, didn’t see it coming. He had the back occupied, holding it down, keeping these cocksuckers off of his cock. All that he heard was a deafening bang– he was ejected from the sunroof still screaming. His body flew through the air slowly like the matrix, gun, still spitting rounds sporadically. He had an out of body experience. He saw how his death would come. He was painting his end with blood—going out in a blaze of glory. If he was dying, these crackas were coming with him. “Come and get meeee, mother fuckers”, he screamed one last time before his body went through the glass window of a restaurant.
This other nigga did his best effort at a tuck and roll. He hit the ground hard and rolled, crashing into a pole, breaking several ribs. He whimpered as he tried to regain the breath that was knocked out of him. He stood up, only clutching one of the four fours. The other was lost in the tumble.
He coughed and blood spewed from his mouth. He was injured badly, he thought, realizing he couldn’t feel his left arm. Six shots, he said to himself as he stumbled away from the drama.
“Hey you, stop,” a citizen screamed, alerting the police to his smooth getaway. His adrenaline was rushing. He spun around, upping the gun like an old school western duel. He sent one head shot into the head of one copper. Bang! And one shot to the citizen for thinking that she could make a citizen’s arrest. Mind your business, lady, he thought as he watched the life spill from her body.
He turned and limped down a dimly lit alleyway. What was his next play? He needed to make it fast. He reached for his phone, but it was not there. Must have gotten lost in the rumble. The police, he knew, would converge on the area immediately.
Then, “hey yo,” a pretty voice yelled from the shadows. He tensed up.