First Contact
"With so much drama in the L-B-C
It's kinda hard bein Snoop D-O-double-G
But I, somehow, some way
Keep comin up with funky a** sh*t like every single day
May I, kick a little something for the G's (yeah)
and, make a few ends as (yeah!) I breeze, through
Two in the mornin and the party's still jumpin
cause my momma ain't home…"
The
old black Cadillac DeVille rolled down the street, music blaring from a sound
system that was worth ten times more than the car. Four figures inside were having a heated debate over their next
intended target, a clash of sense and sensibilities – a meeting of the minds,
as it were.
"…I'm
just saying that we need to destroy that den of iniquity! It's just the white man's poisonin' the
'hood…"
"X… do you hear yourself? DEN OF INIQUITY? Man…
this is a crackhouse!"
"Holly's right, X.
White people don't put crack pipes to folks' lips. People got the sense God gave 'em to do what
they want."
"Really Wise?
Did black people grow the cocaine?
Did they make the chemicals that refine it and ship that sh*t over
here?" X looked at Wise-Son and Holocaust in the front seats, a little
dumbfounded by their rebukes.
"Yeah, but X", Wise answered, "As soon as that
stuff gets over here, there are plenty of brothers waiting in line to help 'em
sell that stuff and take a cut of the profits. (Giving Holocaust a sideways
glance) In fact, they'll gladly KILL each other for a piece of the pie."
"Don't start with me Wise! We got a deal. We hit the crack houses, Blood Syndicate keeps all the money, and
I get the product!"
"And resell it", cut in Wise.
"Up in Harrisville and Kenosha. Let them trailer-park boys smoke it all
up! I don't give a sh*t!"
"Some of it comes back down here man, you know
that."
"That's why we get it back! Man, I don't understand ya'll! We got the opportunity of a lifetime! The government tried to kill us, but now we
got their a**es over the fire!"
"But Holly…"
"Don't 'But Holly' me, Wise… forming the Syndicate
was a stroke of genius man, I'll give you that. But we ain't doing enough with it! In a year… we could OWN this city. It's all about power brothers.
And now, we got ALL the power. Cops are scared of us, the feds are
scared… ain't no rich mutha-f*ckaz got sh*t on us! F*ck 'em all!"
"But Holly…", Wise let out a sigh of
exasperation. "It's like I keep saying
over and over, we need to get ourselves organized, and bide our time, and get
ready for the counter attack."
"Bu…"
"Let me finish.
You're right, we'll own this whole f*ckin' state in a year, but only
after we beat back their best efforts to kill us again. They're scared, and they're watching us. The
government, or whatever old white X-Files mutha-f*ckaz runnin' this country,
are going to send somebody after us. Somebody
who they think can deal with a bunch of super-powered gang-bangers."
"Yeah", added X, "We're their worst nightmare. N*ggaz who can fly and sh*t".
"Exactly Com-man-do X." Wise sarcastically
emphasized the Commando part of his chosen Post-Bang gang name. X just furled his brow – clearly
annoyed. "We are their worst
nightmare. Just about every clique in
this city has a super gang-banger in it, but I made sure that most of us were
part of OUR OWN super-gang. Not to stop
us from fighting each other, though I'm glad about that, but to get us ready.
We got to run this sh*t military if we expect to beat 'em. Mark my words brothers, they're coming for
us."
"They already are, my thuggish brethren!" Everyone turned to the until-now silent
Virgil Hawkins – a.k.a. Static (the most electrifying teenager in
history, or at least in his own mind).
Virg was a nice kid, a near genius computer geek. But whereas Wise-Son was great at tactical
matters and dealing with people, Mr. Hawkins was actually a wise-cracking clown
prince who used his newfound 'Static' persona to be the ultra-cool hero-guy he
always wanted to be – too bad he couldn't tell the folks at Sadler High! By now, everyone saw the flashing red and
blue lights that were following their car.
Cops. No one broke a sweat.
"Static, you know what to do", said Wise. Virgil rolled down his window and extended
his arm pointing to the car behind them.
A crackle noise preceded the blue-ish beam of electricity that shot from
his hands and smacked the police cruiser, circling it almost like a rope tied
around it. The car shook for a moment,
and then… began to rise in the air. The
police officer inside quickly opened the door and jumped out before the car got
too high – cursing loudly as he hit the ground and rolled hard (ahhhh, that
darn momentum). "Holocaust, fire it
up!" Holocaust looked at the floating
police car in his rearview mirror. He
seemed to squint a little, and then, quite suddenly, the car exploded into a
fiery ball of flames! It wasn't that an
explosion caused the car to burn up… the car just ignited itself. Like if someone dipped the entire thing in
gasoline or kerosene. Inside and out,
every single piece of it started burning at the same time.
"I don't see why you always let the cop escape
Static. You could magnetically seal the
door. Hell, you could stick him to his
seat with static electricity. I've seen
you do it."
"Because X…" said Wise, "that cop will go back and
tell the others and scare them even more.
The lower police morale is, the better for us. They don't ever come near Paris Island anymore."
"Darn SKIPPY", interrupted Virgil. Noticing the WTF expressions on his
co-passengers' faces, he said "What!?
SKIPPY is an awesome peanut butter… and pretty darned manly! Well, at least the chunky kind."
"Why haven't we kicked his ass yet Wise?" Holocaust
had little tolerance for their beloved nerdling's humor. The ironic thing was that Holocaust liked
Virgil very much, and even though Virg was not a gang member, he personally
sought him out after the Big Bang and asked him to join the Syndicate.
"Because I'd fry all your beepers and cell phones, and
then you couldn't talk to your hootchie-girls!"
"The man has a point", said Wise. "Holly, turn here on Moor's Blvd. There it is. Our 'den of iniquity'.
It's SHOWTIME gentlemen!"
"Question", Static began (at which X rolled his
eyes), "Why don't I just fly us all to these 'events' instead of driving in
Holly's caddy? I could lift this thing
and just swoop us in!"
"Cuz I like to DRIVE my car, not dive bomb in it!"
"And you're scared as sh*t to fly Holly." X couldn't
suppress a chuckle.
"That too. Sue me.
Am I not human? If you cut me…
will I not kick you're a**?"
"Can it guys.
Let's get down to business and do these thug-wannabes some serious
damage. It's go-time!" With that, Holocaust parked his car, and he
and Wise, Commando X, and Static got out and faced their crackhouse target. In mere minutes this place would become a
smoldering ruin, and all the inhabitants would be run off or killed, depending
on which ones actually fought back.
***
Note: This chapter just started and the X-Men will
soon be face to face with Paris Island's new "urban menace". I will update this chapter with the rest
shortly. Like it so far? More on the way, I promise. Oh, and
why do I use asterisks in the cursing?
I want this to be readable to ALL audiences, even though the characters
aren't of the "G-rated" variety.
