Okay, let me start by apologizing for my absence. I know it's been a long time and you're probably saying why the hell is she starting a new story. But I needed something to get my juices flowing again. It's been a crazy year and the show has just been such a disappointment in too many ways, I had lost my inspiration to write. It's definitely coming back and this was an idea I was playing with before I went on hiatus. Thank you for all the PMs and messages to continue writing. I appreciate it more than I can say. Enjoy.

A wooden chair sits in the middle of an abandoned warehouse. A body is slumped over in the chair not moving. Two figures stand in front and behind the person in the chair.

"Say it again."

WHACK

"I...I'm s-s-sorry.."

WHACK

"Wrong. Say it right."

No response

WHACK

"SAY IT!"

"Please, I-I-can"

WHACK

"Wrong. Guess again." Silence.

WHACK

"SPEAK"

"No trust, no…" The person starts to slump in the chair.

WHACK

"LOUDER"

"No trust, no..no trust" The man is starting to lose consciousness.

SMACK

"WAKE UP! No trust, No WHAT?"

"NO TRUST, NO NOTHING!" The man screams out.

"Thereeeee we go, much better. Was that so hard?"

The man tied up in the chair has blood covering his face and body. There is so much blood, you can't tell where it started or where its coming from.

"Mercy, please. Please don't shoot me. I'm sorry." The figure in the chair pleads.

"Mercy? Oh that's cute and I know you're sorry. And don't worry I'm not gonna shoot you." The person inflicting the beating walks away towards the door in the corner.

"Wait are, are you really gonna let me g-oaaaaahha aahhh ahhh"

The body in the chair goes slump as the 4-ft silver knife sticks from the middle of his head.

"Damn Sharp, did you have to do that?"

"What! We were done. We don't need anymore info and he had nothing left to give."

The person Sharp takes out a phone and dials a number. The voice on the other end picks up.

"Is it done?

"It's done. Cases are on 12th and Chicago. No other Hilts around to see us."

"Perfect."

The phone hangs up. Sharp turns to their companion.

"Call the cleaners have them move this thing."

They start to wrap up the body in the tarp that was underneath the victim's feet.

"Well I will say one thing at least the knives aren't as messy as a gunshot."

"Why do you think that's my trade. Of course I like it that way. Besides, isn't that what him and those other bitches like, swords. A dagger through the head is fitting right.?"

They both share a laugh and continue their task.

ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE CITY

"Where the f*** is Spencer? He never checked in after drop-off. That damn son of a bitch has probably done something stupid."

A man is pacing back and forth, continuously running his hands through his hair.

"Yeah, he must have got picked up cuz there's no way he would miss this. I told you guys he was a fuckup." He lights up a cigarette. "Find him, fix it or we're fucked. The boss will lose it. Fuck. FIX IT." The young man continues to pace around the room frantic.

"Hey I didn't lose him G. That idiot went off on his own. We told him a million times, you ain't the hot shit you think you are, but he did whatever he wanted. Probably dead somewhere." A broad muscled black guy with a beard responds.

"And that's going to get us all killed."

"Relax G. It will be fine. The boss would never blame us. Spencer has been a fuck up from jump. This was inevitable."

"Affirmative. Thanks T." The person across the room on the phone hangs up. "Alright. Tara says Spencer was at the drop-off but after that her visual went dead. She thinks it was tampered with."

"See, I told you. This is so bad. I don't know why the boss let him in. I knew he was an idiot. Now it's our ass on the line if we can't find him? Noah, did Tara give any more detail than that?"

"Sorry man, that's all she got."

"For the last time. We'll find the jackass and his mom is the boss's cousin or something like that so there wasn't really an option of not letting him in."

"Your logic is so profound Tyrese. Maybe you should have been a co….oh fuck." He suddenly stops speaking.

"What's up G. You ok?"

"Shit man, I know who got him?"

"Who got who?"

"Spencer. They must have got him right after the drop. Nobody could do a job this clean but them."

"Them who?"

"Yeah it was them. They have that nerdy ass dude with the mullet. Bet he could fuck up Tara's signal."

Tyrese perks up at the mention of the mullet man. "Oh shit man, you're right. I know that dude. Biggest dork I've ever seen. He's probably all computery and shit. They definitely did this."

"Who you guys talking about?" Noah asks the other two.

G takes out his phone and makes a call. The voice on the other end says, "Hello."

"They did it…that crew on the Northside…I'm certain...yeah we're headed back….No we didn't see anyth-…Look I'm not sure but I got this feeling...alright headed out." He hangs up the phone.

"That didn't sound good. How pissed is –

"I don't think pissed is a good enough word for the shit we're about to have to deal with. Fucking assholes better watch out. We're coming!"

"Who are we coming for?" Noah says with a raised voice.

Tyrese and G pause for a minute and give each other a look. G turns to Noah and with a deadpan face says," The bastards who think they own this town. You've seen them wearing those dumb ass boots."

"Holy shit. You mean we might have to go to war with-"

"Yup, the Colts. And they won't even see us coming."