"Two hundred fucking dollars? That's it?" Farelle groaned as he rummaged through Tee's wallet. The coin zipper and the two inside pockets were all empty. The cash compartment had produced some money, but it wasn't enough. "Ole boy is supposed to be a drug dealer, where's all the money at?"
"Nobody in their right mind would be riding around the hood with racks late at night. Ain't nobody that stupid." Tayvon snatched the wallet out of Farelle's hands and inspected it. Farelle had stripped it of cash, but some valuables remained, such as a driver's license and a Social Security card.
"If you had let me do what I do, I could've made him talk, but nah, you just had to knock him out instead," Farelle whined. "I'm sure that goofy has a stash box or knows where a stash house is. I could've made him tell us where it's at!"
"Hell no! Knowing you, you were gonna torture him or do some other crazy shit. This lick was supposed to be a quick hit and run, and we accomplished that." Tayvon pointed at the floor in front of them; it was filled with the proceeds from their robbery. The Ziplock bags of weed were neatly arranged on a large fuzzy green carpet. There were at least twenty bulky bags, and they were all filled to the top.
"The weed is cool, but I was expecting a lot more bread. We need money. I'm not a fucking drug dealer. I don't have a clientele."
"Neither do I, but we can build one. It shouldn't be that hard. This is weed, not cocaine. Everyone smokes it." Tayvon stood up from the couch he and Farelle were seated on. He dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone. It was almost four a.m., and Asia still hadn't called him. That was concerning. "You went overboard. You didn't have to do her like that."
"I just played the role I was given. You're the one who came up with this whole plan," Farelle pointed at Tayvon accusingly. "You had the bright idea of using Asia to get to her plug. You and her put all this shit in motion. She set him up, and we ran the play. Y'all told me to make the robbery look real, and I did."
"I said to make it look real, I didn't say to fucking pistol whip her!" Tayvon shouted indignantly. He sighed in frustration and began pacing the floor around the carpet. It was wooden and filled with multiple loose planks. "There's no telling what happened to her. We left her behind with Tee. I know I knocked him out, but who's to say he didn't wake up and find out what Asia did? She was supposed to call me hours ago."
"How's that my problem?" Farelle shrugged. "I know you're in your feelings right now cuz you've been fucking that bitch, but she's a set up chick who cares what happens to her?"
"Me fucking her is irrelevant," Tayvon ground his teeth. "We don't know where she is or what she's doing. She could potentially ruin everything. If she were somehow coerced into talking, Tee could find out that we're the ones who robbed him."
"Okay, and if he finds out what we did, then what? He's a bitch," Farelle scoffed dismissively.
"He sells weed, not even hard drugs. And why you keep calling him Tee? His name is Anthony. He ain't done shit to earn a street name."
"Tee? Anthony? What difference does it make? You know who I'm talking about. I'm not finna argue over this dumb shit with you. There's a point I'm trying to make."
"And that point is what? Say it. I don't need all this fucking suspense."
"The point is, Tee answers to somebody. He has a boss. I keep thinking about what he said before I put him to sleep. He said his boss has a lot of soldiers."
"And you believe that shit?" Farelle burst out laughing. "You know damn well that people make all kinds of empty threats when their life is on the line. You remember those goofies we robbed on the Eastside? The ones from the Seven Deuce gang? They swore up and down that we'd get murked within a month, but it's been years, and we're still alive."
"That's true," Tayvon begrudgingly admitted. The retaliation from that robbery had never come, but there was no expiration date on revenge, and the paranoia never ceased. "I did some research on Tee on our way back here, and I found something."
"Okay, Sherlock Holmes, tell me what you found." Farelle rolled his white ski mask up to his nose and grabbed a cigarette from his pocket. He only smoked them when he was irritated, and his irritation typically led to violence. Tayvon watched his cousin grab a lighter from a small table beside the couch. He flicked it a couple of times, struggling to spark a flame while Tayvon eyed him with disgust. He despised the smell of cigarettes, but this was Farelle's apartment, and he couldn't dictate his actions here.
"I dug through Tee's social media accounts, the ones that Asia gave me. Most of them are public, but he tries to keep a low profile as best he can. There's not too much flashy shit on his IG. He'll post himself at a nice spot here and there with some designer on, but you wouldn't assume he's a drug dealer."
"Bro, this isn't new information. You told and showed me all this shit when we were originally planning the robbery." Farelle said while puffing on his cigarette. "That was part of the reason why we wanted to rob him. We peeped how he moves online and thought he looked like the perfect lick. But he ain't have no money for real, at least not in pockets at the time."
"Yeah, I showed you all that, but I didn't do my due diligence like I did tonight. There's shit I missed that I didn't realize until recently." Tayvon opened his phone and pulled up Anthony's Instagram account. There was a large archive of pictures, but Tayvon scrolled relentlessly until he found what he was looking for. It was a picture of Tee at a nightclub with a group of five people.
The picture was taken on February 17th, 2024, exactly three months ago. Anthony was the only person in the picture that Tayvon recognized, but the other faces weren't of any importance. What was important was the person who'd been cropped out of the photo. A beige arm was slung around Tee's shoulder, embracing him in what looked like a brotherly hug. It was a normal pose, nothing out of the ordinary, but there was a red tattoo on the arm that should've caught Tayvon's attention weeks ago.
When Tayvon had initially scoured through Tee's Instagram account, this photo hadn't warranted attention. The face and body of the arm with the red ink weren't visible, and the tattoo was hard to decipher. But Tee's threats earlier tonight had set off alarm bells for Tayvon, so he'd backtracked and checked Tee's Instagram twice and thrice. The tattoo on that cropped-out arm was something Tayvon had seen before, but it had taken him hours to remember what it was.
Farelle didn't need that long. He instantly recognized the tattoo when Tayvon showed him his phone. "Oh, shit." Were the two chilling words that he uttered. "Are you fucking serious? Do you know what that tattoo means?"
Tayvon slowly nodded. That tattoo meant they were in deep trouble. Only a select few people in the city had that symbol branded on their skin: three snakes converging on a triangle. It signified membership in one of the most dangerous organized crime syndicates. Gangs, mafias, cartels, and criminal groups in general were normal in Chicago, but this particular criminal organization stood out for two reasons: they were extremely brutal, and they participated in supercrime.
Supercrime, as the media dubbed it, was any crime that involved superpowers. Aberrants were the only humans that possessed superpowers, but most of their powers were benign or weak. However, there were several Aberrants with dangerous, destructive, powerful abilities. Those abilities, depending on how you used them, either made you a Hero or a Villain in the eyes of the government.
"You're Mr. take precautions, and you didn't notice this shit before?" Farelle mockingly asked. "Your stupid ass made us drive through multiple blocks, stash our stolen car in an alley, burn our clothes, change into oversized clothing, but keep our ski masks on, and trek to my crib because you wanted to avoid getting spotted on camera, but you overlooked the connections that Anthony, Tee, or whatever the fuck you want to call him has?" By the time Farelle finished speaking, he was nearly out of breath and was fuming. The cigarette in his mouth was the only thing that kept his full fury at bay.
Tayvon didn't immediately respond. Farelle had every right to be pissed. He'd fucked up tremendously and potentially gotten them into a messy situation. There was only one way he could respond now. "If you're scared, just say that."
Farelle took one last puff and put his cigarette out with his palm. It left a deep, dark imprint on his skin, but Farelle didn't wince at all. "Bro, don't play with me. I ain't been scared of shit a day in my life. You the one that's tweaking. Yo scary ass damn near bout to have a panic attack over this shit. Don't try to flip it on me. You ain't slick."
Tayvon and his cousin shared a long laugh. They both needed that. The tension had been growing too thick, and humor always diffused any animosity between them. Tavyon sat back down on the couch and tried to relax. He needed a moment to think.
"Why am I still dressed like this? Why are you still dressed like this?" Farelle questioned as he glanced at his cousin and himself. They wore matching grey tracksuits that were three sizes too large. The clothes drooped off their slender frames and were just as heavy as they looked. Tayvon had suggested wearing them. It had been part of his grand plan to throw off any cameras or police, but now, hours later, the pair of cousins looked stupid in them.
Farelle decided to change. He stood up and walked to his bedroom. His apartment was tiny, and it only took him a few steps to reach his destination. Farelle opened the door and glanced over his shoulder; Tayvon was still deep in thought. Farelle yelled at him, but his cousin didn't even respond. Farelle mumbled an insult under his breath and stepped into his bedroom, closing the door behind him.
His room was dull and devoid of furniture except for the bare necessities. He had a mattress, a fairly large one, but it lacked a headboard, frame, or any supporting structures. It was positioned flat on the ground in the far-right corner of the room near a cracked window. There was one pillow and a weathered blanket that had seen better days. Farelle didn't own any dressers or cabinets, so all his clothes were packed in large black trash bags that were stuffed into his closet.
The closet had two doors that didn't close. The rusted door handles were broken, and the maintenance office refused to fix them, no matter how much Farelle called. They were useless, but Farelle couldn't truly complain; he knew what he'd signed up for when he agreed to the lease. The apartment complex was in a completely downtrodden, run-down neighborhood, and the rent was so low it was alarming to anyone with a functioning brain.
The inside of Farelle's apartment was just as bad as the neighborhood that surrounded it. The power regularly went out, appliances malfunctioned constantly, the carpeting and flooring were old, and the walls needed repainting. The paint on Farelle's bedroom walls was so badly chipped that the room practically had two colors, grey and white. Farelle walked to the end of his bedroom and entered his bathroom. It was the only bathroom in the entire apartment, and it needed just as much remodeling as everything else.
Farelle stripped his clothes, grabbed a towel from a mounted shelf, and stepped into the shower. He set the temperature on high and bathed quickly. He exited feeling refreshed and rejuvenated. It didn't take him long to dry off and get dressed. He was done with everything in under ten minutes, and when he reentered his living room, he was sporting a fresh pair of clothes.
Farelle liked to dress comfortably, and his new outfit fit his traditional style: a pair of cotton shorts, a plain white T-shirt, and sneakers. Farelle walked past his living room and entered his kitchen. Tavyon was still seated on the couch, silently mulling over his next move. Farelle opened his fridge, and to no surprise, it was empty.
There was a water bottle and some leftover liquor from last night, but no food. The two women he'd invited over yesterday had eaten everything, and he was too broke to afford groceries. Sure, he'd profited two hundred dollars from tonight's robbery, but he had to split that with Tayvon. Farelle slammed the fridge shut and trudged to the living room. There was nothing else worthwhile in the kitchen. The few cabinets that he had were barely held together and contained more dust than anything.
Farelle smacked the back of his cousin's head. The hit wasn't hard, but it was enough to snap him out of his stupor. "It's been like twenty minutes. Wake the fuck up." Tayvon glared at him angrily, but that response was better than the prolonged silence.
"You know if that was anyone but you, I would've beat their ass, right?"
"You can still try," Farelle welcomed Tayvon's threat with a smirk. But ultimately, neither cousin did anything. "You've been sitting here quietly thinking for a good minute. You better have some shit to say now." Farelle plopped down on the couch and scrolled through his phone. He had dozens of recent unread text messages from a strange number he didn't recognize.
"Yeah, I did a lot of thinking. I'm still a little worried about Asia, but she's not the focus right now. I know who can sell this weed to. My homie got a –" Tayvon's words cut off as his phone suddenly rang. He picked it up when he saw the name on the caller ID. It was Asia. Tayvon answered immediately, but the voice on the other line wasn't who he expected.
"Since your fucking cousin won't answer the text messages we sent him, I figured we'd give you a call from this number. We have Asia, and we know what you did. If you don't bring back my shit within the next two hours, she's going to die. Her life is in your hands, so you'd better hurry up. Oh, and if you decide that her life just doesn't matter, that's fine. But this is your one and only opportunity to walk away alive. This is undeserved mercy towards you, but either way, I'll get my product back. I'd rather not have to deal with the bloody mess of killing you, your cousin, and your entire family, but I'll do whatever needs to be done."