Chapter one: Stupid White Men
As far as he knew, Ed Wunclers new property was the best fucking thing that ever happened to him. The red-head had gotten it shortly after his last mission proved to be a huge fuck up and his snotty father finally had enough of him. In a few days, a real estate was organised, right in the middle of Ed's favorite hood. On the outside, it did not look any different from the rest of the urban ghetto- hell!- the building even looked pretty run-down, but on the inside. One word. Gangsta. Big, huge, bursting with money, typical Wuncler so to say, an inside pool, bitches and... A specially privatised sports ground, right next door, which meant Riley spent his entire time playing either against a few neighbored thugs or with Ed and Gin, two versus one.
If anything, he was only busting their asses even more than back when he was eight. Yeah, sixteen and the best in his league, no one could beat him. He was the tip of the top, the best under the sun, he didn't even need a crew to defend his title.
Said crew having grown ever since his friend Ed had moved here. Meeting new homies every day was his new hobby now. He came every day, much to Huey's displeasure, and enjoyed his days as a real thug. His life-long dream, which he had thought crushed by moving to that stupid white neighborhood, had come true. By now, he had learned to hate these trashy white people, they were nuts anyway. Incredible he had finally found a way of evading them once for all. Still, every day, when he stepped out of that door, he would give a white person a good scare by glaring at them, and boy, did it work. Man, these people had their heads up their asses, really, really far up their asses.
And even though he was in a different part of town now, he still hated on all these white-boys. Not often one would cross his path, but still, every time one did, all he did was walk up to that fucker and provoke a fight. Punches were thrown, a few minutes later, the white trash would mostly run or give up. It was an immense satisfaction for Riley to do that.
Huey disapproved. As he always did. Riley didn't give a shit. As he always did. However, never had his brother come to the sports field, so Riley was pretty surprised when he stood outside the grid, and glared.
"Whaddaya want, nigga?" he snarled, throwing the basketball in his hands against the grid. Huey didn't even flinch.
"Coming to visit my baby brother." he responded, holding the everlasting scowl on his face.
Behind him, one of Riley's thugs snickered. With cold eyes, he turned. The snickering stopped immediatly. When he turned back to his brother clearly standing behind that wire, he couldn't help but let a smug smile invade his face.
"How 'bout ya' come over and give ya' bro' a hug?", he smirked, "Just wanna see ya' cross that fence nigga. Thuggin' love and all that shit, ya feel me?"
Huey made no move. He only glared harder, "I don't need to cross that fence."
The older stepped to the side, revealing the street behind him. At first, Riley only heard the distinct thump of a basketball hitting concrete, then, a teen came into his vision. A teen, the boy must have been around his age, strolling up next to his brother with a certain relaxed swing to his motion. When he stopped, the ball was still bouncing up and down with his hand. The boy cocked his head in Rileys direction with a bright smile.
"Yeyo, cool kid! What's doin'?"
The ball finally stopped, and the boy trapped it underneath his arms, adopting a laid back pose, giving his loose outfit the full effect. One hand dissappeared in the pocket of the dark jeans. He looked like he was from around here, but the accent told otherwise.
Riley snorted, "Whatcha here for, bitch?"
The bitch's head fell back and he laughed, laughed, draping an arm around Hueys shoulders. He was a a head taller than him, Riley noted, and grimaced when the bitch drew a little too close to his brother's face, and told him something, grinning like a Chesire cat.
"Yuck," Riley raised his voice for the bitch to hear, "Yo fag! You better have a good excuse for walkin' up my streets!"
The bitch perked up, showing of his pearly white teeth. One of them was covered with shining silver.
"Wut you call meh?" the threathening message barely came across over the sweet tone in the bitch's voice, "So wanna go?"
"Watcha gonna do biatch?", Riley mocked, "Climb over that fence?"
And he barely dodged the hard basketball as it came flying over the fence. When he locked eyes with the bitch again, this one crouched and jumped, sticking to the grid like spider-fucking-man. He pushed his face into the metal, grinning like a madman, and started climbing up, swinging his legs over and jumping to the ground once he had reached the top. The bitch turned around one last time.
"See ya' bomah," he waved at Huey.
Huey raised a lazy hand and mumbled something, slight curve tugging at his lips. Needless to say, Riley felt ignored. Even more so when the bitch approached the fence again and leant against it, ever so slightly leaning down to Huey's level. One of his hands rose to grip at the wire and he relaxed, Huey did the same and lightly shook it, they exchanged a few low-spoken words.
"NIGGA YOU GAY!"
The bitch whipped around with a blaze shaking his body in fury, and ripped away from Riley's brother, stomping over to him.
"Wut. did you. call. meh?" he growled, so close that his hot breath hit Riley's nose.
He recoiled, waving a hand infront of his face, "Maaan, you need a Tic Tac."
"Ha!" one of his homies behind him backed him up, "You messin' with the wrong guy, dude!"
The bitch's face was invaded by a grin, "If Imma messin' with tha' wrong guy, watch' 'e need you fo'?"
Riley stepped up and roughly pushed, "Talk to me, bitch ass nigga! You came runnin' to me over that thing to have a fight, how 'bout we finally start?"
"Naw, I don't need ya' fight, even if chou' think it's wicked pissa," the bitch's hands rose in defence, " 'n fact, I came fo' a friendly match! Jus' little basketball he' an' the', y'know?"
Riley glared. A match? Just for fun? His expression of anger turned into one of confidence. Heh, he would win it either way, he was the king on the field. Plus, the bitch was white.
"Aiight, fag."
To clear everything in the speeches up
What's doin: how are you
Wanna go?: Want to have a fight?
wicked pissa: very cool
Bomah: clever
he' an' the': here and there
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