First off, I just wanna say, thank you for all of y'all that rocked with ya boy. Every single review, follow and favorite. I appreciate it all, dog.
I've grown a bit over the years and I wanted a new version of Brotherhood to reflect that change.
Like Mike being black now. He can talk again, and them being back in New York. I might take Mike's voice away again but do you let me know if you enjoy talking Mike more.
If you still here, enjoy the ride.
New car, same route with a couple detours.
Enough talk.
Let's get it.
Brotherhood
episode one
A
"My lil' block so ratchet,
ayy,
twelve don't stop, just pass it (Ayy)
Some niggas just passed away, shit seem like a average day
This new stick cost half a K, niggas too up to lack today
Every pup gon' have his day, but your day my average day."
a — Kenny Mason ft. Denzel Curry
MIKE
Being a nineteen year old kid is hard, old enough to deal with adult responsibilities but still young enough to do the reckless shit a teenager would normally be up to.
Like skateboarding away from the new friends you just made because you just had to go and tag on the wrong block.
Oh and the adult responsibilities? You gotta take your ass to work at the pizza place in the next thirty minutes.
When you're Michelangelo, this is a daily thing. His blonde locs whipped throughout the wind as he kicked on his board like a bat outta hell.
Mikey was really lucky that he was way faster on his board than they were on foot.
That is until he got knocked on his ass when he hit the one speed bump he wasn't paying attention to.
The trio of pissed off gang members sprang on him quickly.
"Get that lil bitch ass nigga!"
Out of pure instinct, Mike's hand snatched a paint can from his hip and sprayed it.
"AGH FUCK!" one of them screeched. He clutched his face in agony. Bright green paint smeared across the assailant's face.
Before Mike could even think about moving, the gang froze.
Almost as if they saw the devil himself. The dark alleyway became dead quiet.
Mikey craned his head upward and he was greeted with the upside down vision of something pretty close to that description.
The five foot ten and two hundred pounds of muscle with burgundy locs and nose piercings stood before them.
"Raph?" The skater whispered to himself.
"Didn't I tell y'all to leave him alone?" His emerald eyes almost seemed like they were burning an acid, toxic green.
One of the members' hands reached from under their shirt.
Biggest mistake he could've made in his life, because Raphael had already cleared the distance between the idiot and his fist snapped across his jaw hard.
So hard that Raph felt teeth bounce out of the dumbass's mouth.
The trio had been just a gang.
Small fries, and they scattered off like roaches.
But Raph? Raphael was of the Purple Dragons, the most feared gang in Brooklyn.
Raphael grabbed Mike by his backpack straps and gently lifted him up.
The five foot six skater sheepishly smiled as he realized the situation he was in.
"Raph! Man is it good—"
A black painted fingernail jammed into his head a few times.
"Shut that shit up right now, b. Fuck I tell you about being in this hood, Mike?" Raph growled, his teeth clenched.
"I'm sorry Raph, they just had some empty walls and I—"
"Nigga don't even finish that sentence. You know you not supposed to be over here! The Dragons been beefing with them little motherfuckers and I'm trying to keep your bitch ass out of the crossfire!"
Mike's head drooped, Raphael's been looking out for him since they were kids.
Clearly the twenty-five year old cares about the little knucklehead.
Didn't mean he had to drag him out of every situation, but he still did.
"Man, get ya bag and board Mr.Jet Set Radio. I'm walking you to work."
"But Raph…" he always treated him like a little kid. He could handle himself.
"Don't even. I said I'm walking you to work."
The image of a skater kid and a street tough clothed in all black would've interesting to most but this is New York, shit like that happens all the time.
"Thanks, Raph." The shorter boy replied, shame in his tone. "You always gotta save me because I'm a loser—"
A harsh smack brought a bright flash of pain to the back of Mike's head.
"You better not. Stop the whole 'woe is me' shit. You might be annoying as a bitch but don't you ever call yourself a loser."
The two young men eventually made it to Mike's place of employment.
Mr.Antonio's.
One of the best pizza places in all of Brooklyn.
The second the owner saw the two enter the shop, he was both relieved and cautious.
"How much trouble did he get himself into this time, Red?" The old man spoke.
Raphael's fist had a death grip on Michelangelo's hoodie.
"Oh not too much, just saved his ass from getting jumped. Again." Mike could feel the irritation in his voice.
"Jesus. Is there anything you need from me, for your trouble? You've been doing this years now."
Raph declined. "Nah, I'm good OG. Appreciate you though. Just make sure this little idiot stays out of bullshit and we good."
The old man wouldn't take no for an answer.
"Please, it's least I could do. Free pizza for life? Anything?"
Raphael contemplated. "I mean free pizza do sound nice."
"It's on the house!"
Mike couldn't hide his shame. His mop of blonde locs made a curtain over his eyes. He always makes mistakes, nobody's treating him like an adult.
But maybe they're right, besides things haven't been the same since his father passed away when he was fifteen.
"Hey," a rough hand was placed on his shoulder. "I'm just looking out for you, stupid. You my boy and I gotta look out for my homies."
The taller man scuffled Mike's mop of locs.
"Now go and make me some pizza, aight?" He joked.
The graffiti artist grinned at the jab. "Hey Mr.Tony, go ahead take away that free pizza!"
Raph lightly jabbed his chest with playfulness in his stance. "Fuck you, kid! I'll see you later."
The red dread head left the shop and went on his way.
RAPH
He just wanted that little idiot to be safe. Raphael was the one dude that stood by the kid's side no matter what.
He was like a little brother to him and Raphael would downright fuck up anybody who hurt him.
Nobody back in high school would even look at Michelangelo wrong if Raphael was behind him.
But on the flip side, Mike got into way too much trouble. Playing pranks, doing shit he had no business doing etc.
But the little guy was pure of heart, joyful and everything Raphael wasn't.
Raph didn't join the Dragons because he wanted to. His dad drank himself into an early grave back when he was a younging, and his mom?
She might as well spat on it.
Being surrounded by gang violence every other day and filled with displaced wrath and no true guidance was eventually going to lead him down this path anyway.
The wayward brawler made his way back to his decent enough one bedroom apartment and along the way, another one of his homies popped up.
"Slash, what do you want, dog?" He grumbled.
The other annoyance was this Spanish cat he had come to be very cool with.
The only other Dragon he'd consider a friend.
"We gotta go pick up a few packs of cash, mi amigo. It's a deal going down tonight," Slash combed his bright green slicked hair back. "Hun ain't too happy about the issues the small fries have been giving us so he might have us do some clean up."
Raphael groaned, "Why can't that big ass nigga do it himself.
"He's the boss, rojo. I don't make the rules, mi hermano."
"Fuck, I'm not in the mood for this shit, but maybe this blunt we bout to take to the face will help us relax."
Slash couldn't argue with that at all.
Later that night…
It was a cold night, Slash and Raph sat in the blacked out car, staking out their targets.
Old school hip hop poured through the speakers.
"Nah bro, I'm just saying that I feel like Wu-Tang Clan is better than Mobb Deep," Raph began.
Slash was taken aback. "There's no way you believe that, Mobb Deep made Shook Ones part one and two."
"I mean yeah, but the Wu got way more classics and longevity and shit. Like Ain't Nothin' to Fuck Wit and C.R.E.A.M? C'mon, b."
"Speaking of bread, there's our guys."
And lo and behold, there the trio were. The same dudes that he caught fucking with Mike.
"Let's get it." The two Dragons said in unison as they bumped fists.
Cold metal in their grip as they hopped out the car, they slowly creeped up to them and caught the group by surprise.
"Aye, chill!" One of them shouted before silver steel smacked against his jaw.
"Shut the fuck up! You better pay up before you end up in a box. And trust and believe, I still ain't forgot about that shit y'all pulled with my little homie."
The Brooklyn brawler cocked back his .44, "So if you're smarter than you look, run me all your shit right the fuck now."
"We not fucking scared of y'all! When Bebop—"
Slash brandished a knife and held it to one of their throats. His almost yellow hazel eyes burned into the punk. "You fuckers wanna figure out why they call me Slash, vato? You think we give a fuck about Bebop?"
Everything was going according to plan, until one of them tried to run off.
That unlucky guy proceeded to get his ass beat.
After they delightfully confiscated their belongings and the three bags overflowing with cash, Raph and Slash bolted back to the car and sped off.
On the drive back to the base, Wu-Tang Clan boomed through the cold night air.
"Aye, I'mma see you later dog." Raphael said as he clapped hands with the knife wielding Dragon.
"Of course, watch your back and front out here, mi hermano." Slash went back into the base with the cash and Raph sat in the car with his cut of the funds, alone with his thoughts.
His father should still be here, maybe he wouldn't have become a Dragon.
But he maybe he still would've, he's not sure.
Can't cry about that now.
He whipped out his phone as he counted his cash to see what one shorty in particular was up to.
R: what's good with it ma?
M: I'm doing my hair right now, Red.
R: Shit u need some help getting it pulled back?
M: no not tonight red. i'm still sore from work. I need an adjustment or something.
R: shit, I can blow your back out better than any chiropractor.
M: ¡callate pendejo!
Raphael chuckled to himself, it was sexy when she spoke Spanish.
R: I mean the night still young n shit, u ain't trying to get relax wit ya boy? i know yo pretty ass been stressing out work n shit.
M: Red! ugh, fine. u got thirty mins to get here.
Raph was there in ten. I mean she did live three blocks away, but that's not important.
Raph had a fuck load of memories up on this fire escape.
That faithful three knocks on her window told her it was him.
"Red, why are you always out so late at night? It's dangerous out there." That Colombian accent always sent shivers straight to his spine and down to his dick.
That shit just wasn't fair.
"Tuh, I am the danger. Niggas can't fuck with me out here."
Mona Lisa, the nickname Raph gave her back in high school because she was too damn fine.
Gorgeous emerald green eyes, soft fuckable face and an ass that was thick as shit?
He would die about this one.
"I'm serious Red, the cerdos cannot catch you!"
Why is it always the shorties that become nurses, are always the ones that end up as fine as fuck?
A light snack on his chest brought him back to reality.
"Are you even listening to me, pendejo?!"
"You think I'm afraid of twelve? You should know me better than that, shorty."
"You need to lay low."
"Shit, I'm tryin' to lay low in you, but here we is doing all this talkin' and shit." Raph bit his lip and grabbed her ass with a tight grip.
She sighed, but let him do as he pleased. "I can't stand you, Red."
"You ain't saying that when I'm standing up in you though?"
Mona found herself being lifted up and she had no choice but to wrap her thick thighs around his waist.
"No hickies this time, Red." she moaned.
"No promises." Raph chuckled as he got to work, making sure the only thing on his mind was her screaming his name.
MIKE
The graffiti artist was getting ready to clock out when three men walked into the shop.
"What's good, Mike?"
When Mike looked up, it was the three dudes from earlier.
His blood ran cold. He threw hot pizza on them and bolted off.
Mike was quick, but he was clumsy. One wrong move and they were on him like white on rice. Beating into his body like lightning striking his nervous system. Pain flashing through his skull.
Nobody was coming to save him, he knew that now. They snatched him up and one whipped out a knife.
"This for that paint, homie."
His throat became dry and cold drops of sweating down his neck.
He didn't want to die.
The graffiti artist's body went limp. He could feel his vision grow dark.
Blackness consumed him.
When he came to, the gang members were on the ground unconscious.
The telltale sign of violence was stained red on his hands. But he couldn't tell if it was his.
Or if it was theirs.
The second he locked up the shop, he never rode away on his board fast enough.
He had to find Raphael now.
RAPH
His phone has been blowing up for the fifth time. This better be more important than beating Mona's back in.
"Damn baby, lemme get this."
He snatched his phone up and answered.
"Nigga what—"
The second he heard crying, his blood ran cold.
"Raph something happened please I'm scared—"
Mike?
He immediately jumped into big brother mode and searched for his pants.
"Yo, slow down. What's going on? Bro slow the fuck down! Breathe, Mike. Talk to me man."
"I'm on the way, head over to my crib. Don't even think about talking to twelve, bro."
He immediately got dressed and grabbed his .44 but Mona snatched for his wrist with an iron grip.
"Mona, let me go." Raphael growled.
The smaller Spanish nurse was hella strong when she needed to be. "Red, please don't do anything stupid!"
"You think I'mma let the niggas that beat up my little brother walk away without being put in a fuckin' box?"
Red hot fury boiled through the Dragon's skin. Mona's fingers were cool to the touch and it was pissing him off that she wasn't letting him go.
"Red, if the cerdos lock you up this time, you're not coming back! I'm not losing you again, rojo!"
"You think I give a fuck about any of that shit you talking bout right now?!" he shouted.
Stark pain flashed across his face as his head jerked to the side.
"Fuck you Raph! You never care about my feelings! It's always what you want! You did this shit back in high school too!"
The Brooklyn street tough was stunned, hurt pooled in his lady's eyes and everything became all too clear.
He locked his arms around her and she tried to fight him but she eventually gave in.
"Baby, I'm sorry. I'll go get Mike and bring him back."
"You better."
Her soft lips caressing his cheek, she whispered in his ear. "Do me right, Red. You're still mi corazon, idiota."
"Yes ma'am."
MIKE
He has blood on his hands.
There is blood on his hands.
Mikey doesn't hurt people, that's not what he does.
He paced around Raphael's apartment with his thoughts racing.
Why did he do that to them?
How did he do that to them?
He just blinked and then they were on the ground.
He's not a bad person.
Right?
The door swung open to reveal Raph. "Mike! You good, fam?"
Mike scrambled over to him and snatched him into a freakishly strong hug.
"Raph, I dunno what happened. I'm scared, man. What if the cops—" the graffiti artist stumbled through his sentence.
"Hey, relax." Raph gently pushed him away and looked in his hazel eyes. "Twelve ain't gonna fuck with you, ok? I gotcha back. Now come on, let's get you to Mona. She gonna make sure you straight, aight?"
Mike nodded slowly.
Later that night…
"You've got to be more careful naranja, ok? You can spend the night if you like." The nurse finished up applying yellow bandages to his brown skin.
"Ok, Mona. Sorry for making you worry."
Mona was always sweet to the graffiti artist, much more lenient on him than Raphael. The three of them were always pretty close back in high school.
"Don't ever do some dumb shit like tag in the enemy hood again or I'mma make what they did look like light work, we clear?"
Mona's fingers ruffled through his blonde locs. "And you don't wanna make Raphael do anything stupid eh?"
The Colombian nurse glared at the Purple Dragon.
Mike looked between the two. "I'm gonna go before you guys start screwing."
Mona's furious blush made her face turn red as she smacked Mike on the arm. "We are not screwing!"
Mike's dry glare told her she wasn't convinced. Raph was giving her that same damn stare. "Right, and I'm a mutant turtle." The graffiti artist spoke.
The Purple Dragon stared at the pink carpet of Mona's apartment bedroom.
"Thanks, ma. I appreciate it. You ain't have to do all that for me."
"I know, you don't deserve me. But I said I couldn't stand you, not that I didn't love your stupid ass."
Raph pulled her close. "I'm sorry, ma. For real."
"Show me."
The two lovers' eyes locked.
Mike quickly made his exit, shutting the door behind him. "Nah, you guys are not bumping uglies while I'm in here dude!"
He blacked out and beat up some gang members, scary but cool. He's never been able to defend himself before so this is weird.
But kinda radical.
Yeah, so that was a new beginning. Things are the same, but believably different.
Curious to see what you guys think?
Peace.