this post was submitted on 07 Nov 2024
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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Agile-Newspaper on 2024-11-07 05:21:26+00:00.


I’ll get right to the chase, I was once part of a street gang. I’m not talking organized mafia type of stuff, it was small-time crimes; drugs, money laundering, that sort. “Victimless” crimes, as we’d refer to them as. I left that life, but it ain’t because I snitched on my boys or anything. It started one night when the boss called me in to do a job for him. 

It was a trade-off; you meet the buyer, they hand you the cash and you hand the supply. No words would be exchanged, if things went smoothly. The boss said to me, 

“This guy from South is pulling up to the spot for this,”

What the boss, who happened to be my dad’s cousin’s brother-in-law, pulled out from under his desk was this big-ass cooler which was still cold to the touch. When I asked what was in it, he said,

“None of your fucking business! You pass off the shit, you collect the cash. Got it?”

Simple enough. I didn’t want to piss off my boss as I didn’t want him to chew out my old man for my fuck-up. I asked the boss, 

“How much am I expecting him to pay?”

“Three grand in cash.”

Say no more, I took the cooler and went to the meet-up spot with the boss; which was this empty intersection in the middle of the night, only lit up by the lights from inside a lonely bodega. It was cold as shit outside and my thick-ass jacket did nothing about it. It felt like an hour before this black Rolls Royce Phantom drove up in front of our beat-up brown Jeep Cherokee.

Out of the Rolls Royce were these two suits; one who wore a silver Rolex and a pair of shades, and the other who was clearly packing as I could see the outline of his glock and silencer under his blazer. Rolex, who I assumed was the boss, said, 

“You got the stuff, Jerry?”

“Four thousand CCs, just like you ordered. You got the cash?” 

Rolex pulled out the wads of cash and handed it over as the boss handed over the cooler. Boss then said, 

“I better not see your people on my patch before the next trade-off.”

“I will make sure of it. We wouldn’t want another incident like the Bounce Castle.”

That… ticked me off. Jerry’s cousin, Fred, was killed at a nightclub called the Bounce Castle. Why was my boss dealing with someone who possibly had a hand in Fred getting knocked off? I didn’t want to fuck things up, so I didn’t mention it until they drove off back to South. 

When we were in the car, I finally brought up the question, 

“How did he know about Fred?”

“I ain’t talking about it-.”

“Jerry, what does that fuckhead know about the Bounce Castle?! Did he kill Fred!?”

“If you’re thinking of toe-ing up against him, you can forget about it! Trust me when I say that they will fuck you up!

“So he did kill Fred-”

“No! …One of his people did.”

You know when people say that they get a pit in their stomach? Yeah, it hit me that time. 

“Why aren’t you shooting them up?”

“We can’t fight them. We just can’t...”

In hindsight, it broke my heart to hear the man say those words. At the time, I was pretty angry that Jerry would pussy out of a fight like that over someone who killed a member of our family. It was two weeks before the next trade-off, but I was still thinking of how they killed Fred. 

Apparently from the papers, Fred was stabbed in the neck and got his blood drained. We had a cleaner that did the same thing but after they were dead. Fred was stabbed in a private room in the club and the crime scene looked clean. 

Seemed like these guys from South had a thing for blood. Back to the next trade-off. It was the same spot; the lonely bodega. In case something happened, I carried a deagle in my right pocket. We waited for the Rolls Royce to pull up and Rolex to come with his bodyguard. Before Jerry could hand over the cooler, I asked Rolex, 

“So you know about the Bounce Castle?”

Man raised an eyebrow like I said something stupid. He said with a smile, 

“Yeah, one of my associates owns the place. Why do you ask?”

“My cousin Fred was killed there, and apparently your people got him.”

Jerry tried to get me to back up but I was feeling it right then and there so I pulled out my piece and started yelling, 

“Why did you kill my cousin, you Gatsby-motherfucker!? Why?!”

I hated how calm Rolex was, even as his goon pulled out his piece in defense. Then, Rolex held a hand in front of his bodyguard. 

“I’ll handle this, Archie. You get back in the car, since we’re pressed for time.”

It was five in the morning and dark out as Rolex checked his watch like he didn’t have a gun pointed at him. Archie simply lowered his glock and went back to the Rolls Royce. Rolex said, 

“Put the gun down, sir. I know you’d rather live.”

“-and I want you dead, motherfucker!”

I pulled the trigger, but Jerry pushed me onto the ground. I looked around for Rolex but he was nowhere in sight. Jerry lashed out, 

“What the fuck, man?! I told you, we can’t fight them!”

He took my deagle from my hand and stuffed it into his pocket. We both took a glance around before Jerry lowered the cooler and backed away. Just when I thought it was over, I suddenly hear Jerry scream and disappear into an alley. I looked and heard Jerry gasping for air and some sort of wet gushing. 

Out of the dark, two red eyes looked straight at me. They were bright and pierced through the darkness like something inhuman was looking into my soul. I didn’t have my deagle, so my only option was to run. I ran straight home, and I wasn’t going to sleep that night. Fuck no. The next day, I heard on the news that Jerry was found dead by the cops and no blood at the scene. A handful of my boys were arrested for stealing from a blood bank, but none of them knew why.

I ran again to avoid getting dragged to the station as well. Rolex and his people seem to have their fingers in everything where I was. I’m now living in another state as some schmuck, but I’m not going back to the life if things like Rolex are out there. The color red makes me think of that night, and his eyes when he looked at me when he killed Jerry. I look out my window at night, wondering just how many of those bastards are out there.

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