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LIVING THE HOOD LIFE

Hopkins

Silver Member
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Jan 6, 2010
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((This is a story I wrote on another server about a character I use to RP with. It's not completely finished, so I'm still working on it. ))

LIVING THE HOOD LIFE






The rain dropped faster than any day Jayceon could remember. He gripped the handle of the steering wheel so tight that his dark skinned fingers went white. He bent his torso down a bit to get a glance of what was above him through the windshield. Rain, rain, and more rain. Hard pouring rain coming down through the night sky. The moon was even blurred out from all of the heavy rain. Jayceon shifted back into the seat and slammed his palm on the wheel, honking the old barely working horn. The slow driver in front of him drove even slower. "Fuck man they just bein'-a' dick now mann.." Jayceon rolled his shoulders, trying to take the stress off his back. The old pale blue Chevy 64 rumbled loud, the engine louder than the rain hitting the roof of the car. Jayceon loved his old lowrider machine though. He matched it. The man was short, african american. A clean shave across his head with a beard that coverd his chin and upper lip. His tank barely fit his muscly torso. His levy jeans low and on him with the support of his belt and "BROOKLYN" belt buckle. Red and black chucks. He also had a red bandana he liked to let hang around his neck.

Jayceon had about enough of the stress. He rolled down the window quickly, his arm moving in circles trying to manually roll it down as fast as he could. The adrenaline was already coming to him as he shoved his head out the window. The rain nearly drowned him as soon as he came in contact with it. "Yo motha'fucka! Move' yo' ass o' Im-a' have'ta move it fo'ya'!". He spat the rain as he yelled across the road. There were about two cars behind Jayceon. The drivers looked curious when he stepped out, slammed the door and jogged over to the old Daytona. A tall, dark, heavily built man stepped out of the Daytona and immediately shoved Jayceon as hard as he could. He was knocked down onto the wet road and the man walked up to him slowly. Jayceon acted quickly to regain his stance and stare up at the man. With a great six inches from their eyeline, they eyed each other. Jayceon seemed puny to the 6'4 man, but size never seemed to stop Jayceon, ever. Jayceon brought a surprising right hook randomly to the side of the man's chin and the man dropped like he was paralyzed. Jayceon went down onto the man and sent wild fists into him, blood beginning to flow from his nose and mouth. The blood began to fly off the man's face, splattering Jay in his face as he punched more and more. He then got up and brought down his foot onto the man's crotch area. Moments later after what seemed like a hundred punches to the face of the man and kicks to the groin, people were rushing from their cars, and a NYPD cruiser rolled up. A police officer rushed out and tackled Jayceon off of the man. Jayceon was able to get out of the officer's grip and went back to the man, sending a final blow to the man's chin, breaking his jaw. The overweight officer was able to stand up in that amount of time, and unholster his taser. The pin was sent into Jayceon and he fell from off the man, rolling around on the ground, not able to even scream. The officer dropped a knee down onto him and he was forced into cuffs, detained into the cruiser and brought to prison, where he served five years for assault.


Five years later


Jalen Favron, son of Jayceon Favron. He barely knew his father, because his father went to prison when he was three years old. But today his father would return to him. Jalen was eight years old.

The door knob rattled and twisted, then the flimsy door swung open, and in walked Jayceon with a beard three times bigger and an afro. Jalen screamed, having absolutely no idea of who it was, and not knowing his real father would return home that day. Jalen's mother, Ideala rushed in too see what was happening and saw Jayceon, screaming as well, not being able to recognize him. Jayceon was twice his size in muscle mass as well. Hair covered his face, and he smelled awful. After Ideala rushed another man without a shirt on. He was about six feet tall, light skinned african american with nice trim cut. He was in good shape and thin. Jayceon eyed the man then Ideala. "Yo, girl, who 'da fuck's 'dis foo, what he doin' in my house!?" Jayceon said over the screaming.

The screaming was brought down a bit and was mainly filled with regaining breath and heavy breathings. "Jay?" Ideala said, her face looking twisted, confused, and worried.
"No shi' is' me, I said who 'da fucks'dis fool?"
"Jay, this is Marcus, my boyfriend.."
"Ey'-wha'? Nah fuck that shit girl, you take lil' J' and head to yo' room, Im-a' have a lil talk wit' 'dis' fool."
"Jay-..!"
"Ideala! Go!"
Ideala burst into a cry, walking by Jayceon and taking Jalen by the hand, walking back to her room. She slammed the door and got down on her knees, forcing Jalen to face her. "Now boy, tha' back there is yo' daddy, okay? He's a bad ma-.." Ideala suddenly stopped from the sound of faint screaming from down the hall of the house.
The screaming was a deep angry tone. Sounded like Jay. Moments later, Ideala and Jalen heard a loud crash. Ideala burst through the door, running down the hall to look at the comotion. Marcus was down on the ground, a broken end table underneath him, and a bloody nose on him. Jayceon stood inches away from him, his arms swaying ready to take another blow.
"Jay, no!"
Jayceon walked over toward Marcus, cocking his fist back and started to go fast toward Marcus with it. He was suddenly stopped by a young voice, "Daddy?"
Jayceon's face went pink. He felt sick inside as he slowly moved his gaze toward Jalen.
"My man.." Jayeon let out a light chuckle, his eyes were getting red. He hasn't even noticed Jalen completely yet. Jayceon stumbled over the lifeless body, which was Marcus, and headed toward Jalen. He crouched down and faced him eye-to-eye.
'How ya'doin' lil' dude?"
Jalen gives him a small nod, "O..kay.."
Jayceon tries to hide his wide smile, he reached for Jalen, and lifted him up.
"Deala, me an' J' goin' for a ride, a'right?"
Ideala looked speechless, glancing back and forth from Marcus to Jayceon.
"Baby, don't take J', don't take J', baby, please!"
"Girl, this is my boy, don't tell my I can't take him. Shit. Jayceon then walked out the door, ignoring her crying and moaning. Jalen looked over Jayceon's shoulder toward Ideala, his face expresionless, but his feelings confused.

Jay slowly started the engine to the old chevy.
C'mon yo' muh'fuckin' piece of shit! Start!" He brought his fist back and sent it flying toward the wheel. It made a dead sounding horn. A few teenagers walking by swiftly turned their gaze to the car and then switched looks, snickering to each other. Jayceon watched them and let out a soft sigh, attempting to twist the key again. It made a loud rumble, then a continuess one. "Hell yeah, motherfucker!"
He layed down on the gas, the car quickly pulling out the driveway, and out onto the street.
"Where we goin' daddy?"
"Lil' J, I'ma' teach you how to survive."

Seven years later


Jalen was fifteen now. He learned from his father, and acted like him. A coldhearted motherfucker.
Jalen took a grip of his bike, and pedaled down hard on it, riding down the street to Antoine's place.
It was bigger than most houses in the neighborhood, but Jalen never knew why, Antoine was broke as dirt. A stepped out of his houses front door, eying Jalen biking toward him.
"Sup, lil' nigga'?" Antoine stated. A was about 6', and a bit overweight. He usually wore a large hoodie that was even still to big for him. He typically dressed in a red hoodie, baggy blue jeans, and red chucks. He had chubby cheeks, and a close cut head. He sounded like you would think a big fat guy would sound. Deep, and a bit humorous.
"Yeah, not much, A. You seen my dad?"
"He out doin' business homes. Can I get you some'tin?"
"You got any new product man? I'm done out."
"Come inside my homie." Jalen followed him right inside. It smelled like A, like cheese and greese with some diodorant to cover it all up. A walked toward a kitchen drawer, opening it up.
"Yo check this man. Straight up chronic, right outta' Queens, my man."
"Shit, it good?"
"Fuck.. it good? You trippin' l lil' man? Is' the best shit ever was homie. 'Ey, les' roll one real quick, you got time?"
"Chea', I got time. Les' do it." A took a piece of rolling paper from a small container next to the bag of weed. He set it on the table and took the bag out, taking out a pinch of weed, and sprinkling it over the paper. He talked as he made it.
"Yeahhh, good shit right here, homie. You gon' like this mo'fucka'."
He finished rolling it up tight and aimed it toward Jalen. "Put this bitch in yo' mouth, I'll blaze it up for ya'."
Jalen obeyed, taking it from his hands and sticking it between his lips, and keeping his head in position, watching A with his eyes.
A took the lighter from his pocket and held it up to the end of the twisted joint, lighting it up. The joint lit, slowly burning and smoke beginning to rise from the ends. Jalen quickly enhaled it, and pinched the j, taking it from his mouth. He looked around, holding his breath in, then let out a loud violent cough. He started laughing as he continued coughing, with a large smile wiped across his face.
A started nodding and chuckling as he studied Jalen's facial expression. "Yehhh', thas' good shit ain't it?"
Hell yeh', mayne, how much for a lil' bag o' 'dat?
"Tell you what homie'? I let you keep that one fo'free, and you can take this dime fo' 8. Jus' 'cause I love my homie."
Jalen nodded with a smile. "Sound good, mayne. I gotta' get outta' here though, I'll be back with the money later." Jalen headed toward the door, putting the joint behind his ear.
"A'yo, shit! Damn, J, wait up!" Jalen immediately haulted, swiftly turning to face A.
"Yo, lil' J, AK said he needed you man. Is' important or somethin'."
"Yeah okay, I'll go see'm now." Jalen continued walking out the door, trotting down the steps and toward his bike.

AK

The autumn day had a good feeling to it. The type of feeling that brought good memories. Usually nothing bad happened on days like these. And for Jalen, it was just about to get even better.
He finally made it to AK's place. It was a smaller house at the end of the neighborhood.
There were a couple of guys outside his house, draped in red, covered in tattoos, "Piru, Crooklyn, Bloodz".
Jalen dropped his feet on the road as he pulled up closer, forcing the bike to stop. He let the bike drop on the road near the sidewalk as he jogged up toward the group. They all greeted him friendly, "A'yo, what up, lil' J?" "Yeah how it do my homie'?" 'Shit was' crackin' lil' nigga'?".
Jalen smiled, replying back to them with handclaps and fist pounds. "Yeah was'up gangsta's?"
A taller one thumbed back to the door. "Yo, AK's inside man, he waitin' for ya'."
Jalen nodded, immediately walking toward the door. He felt nervous, not knowing what AK would want. He was the top dog of the Brooklyn Block Bloodz. He ran the shit around his neighborhood, no one fucked with him.
Inside, AK stood behind a counter, reloading a .45 USP, and pulling the hammer back, laying it on the red, folded bandana. He swiftly glanced up to Jalen and smirked. "You came finally, huh' nigga?"
Jalen smirked back, "Yeah man, was'up?"
"Look, J', you been here in the hood a while, naw'm'sayin? I think is' time to put you in on some work, na'mean? Like a test, see how you do."

"Yeahh, that sounds tight.. What we doin'?"

AK walked up to Jalen with the USP in his right hand, taking it by the barrel and handing it to Jalen. He took the gun by the handle, looking toward AK. AK patted him on the back a few times with a smirk on his face.

A mission


The old Daytona lowrider pulled out from the driveway. Inside was X, JJ, and D. They were all strapped and bandanna's tied around their face.

"Yo, J', get the fuck in nigga', we don't got all day. Shit.. Slow ass motha'fucka' ova' here."

Jalen rushed toward the car, jogging and pulling his pants up at the same time. X, the most muscular one of the group handed Jalen a black bandanna.

"Here, use this shit, keep it tied 'round yo' face."

Jalen obeyed, taking the black bandanna, folding it into a triangle and then around his face. He then took the USP from his gray hoodie pocket, shoving it in his waistband, tightening the belt around it. He felt big immediately. Bandanna around him, strapped up. Homies at his side. No one would fuck with them. No one.

JJ and D sat in the front, glancing back to Jalen and smirking. They basically looked the same. Same height, about 6', same weight, roughly 180 pounds. Their face was the typical face. Nothing too special about them. A lot of people mistaked them as twins. Except JJ had a longer neck.

"A'ight, bitches, les' do this shit." D said, putting the Daytona into drive. They drove down the long narrow neighborhood road. They passed kids playing basketball, making drug deals, smoking a cigarette at a curb. Jalen payed close attention to it, but everyone else in the car just stared straight ahead, ignoring it like it was nothing.

JJ spoke up as he turned to face the back seats, getting everyone in his eye's view. "K' listen up. This is how we gonna' do this shit. We're gonna' pull up behind the gas station, an' blast these motherfuckers. Startin' beef with us' and slangin' on our turf. Shit don't end to good."

Everyone kept the same expression, until their eyes met the gas station. Most still kept calm but Jalen immediately went sick. He's never killed anyone before, nor shot at anyone. His hand went to his stomach, ready to vomit.

"Shit, you okay, nigga'?" X remarked, looking toward Jalen with a worried face.

Jalen sucked in a deep breath, giving off a nod. "I'm good." X kept staring toward him for a while until he was satisfied and looked back towards the wind shield.

"Here we go." D said as they pulled up in front of a group. They were all large, they were dressed in different colored clothings. Probably just a fake failure gang that will be ended right there. The car came to a hault. Everyone stepped out quickly, Jalen and JJ running to the left side of the car to face the group.
The group stared at them, beggining to laugh slightly.

"Fuck you bitch ass motherfuckers!" D exclaimed as he pulled his snubnose out immediately, he fired several rounds at one particular individual. He dropped and as that happened, everyone else pulled their straps, firing toward the group. There were about 5 people after the one was shot down, but they dropped quickly. Jalen sweat prefusively, his eyes widened, adrenaline rushing through his system, rappidly pulling on the trigger. He shot down only one, but it was the craziest thing that ever happened to them. It was like in slow motion to Jalen. He was still pulling the trigger, spit flying from his mouth, onto the back of the bandanna, his eyes blood-shot red.
His homies beside him were yelling, "This what you get for messin' with Brooklyn Bloodz motherfuckers!"
Jalen missed most of the time, but he still shot in one direction, his arm extended all the way, USP aiming at the group. He hit another in the arm, and then X sent a bullet straight to that person's head. They all dropped. In what seemed like 5 minutes, was only 5 seconds.
"Dip, dip, dip!" JJ shouted. They all crowded into the car, and it pulled off immediately, sending smoke up in the air and tire marks on the road. Jalen stared down at his gun, the chamber empty. He just killed someone. But it didn't make him feel special like he thought it would, it didn't make him feel proud, or bigger. He just knew he killed someone, and if he needed too, he could do it again.

The next day.


Jalen walked down the sidewalk, the day was gloomy and wet. Wet colored leaves, dark clouds surrounding the sky. Usually things bad always happens on these days. And for Jalen, it was just about to get worse.

He was walking towards his father. His father was waxing his chevy near their garage. Jalen nodded toward his dad, "Ey, pops."

Jayceon looked up immediately, putting on a wide smile as he glanced to Jalen. His father taught him everything. He taught him how to survive on the streets. "Ey. J, was'u-"

SCREEEEEEEECH
"What the fuck?" Jayceon said, looking confused. A lowrider came driving down the street, filled with gangbangers, from what it looked like.

Faint shouting could be heard from over the engine, "Fuck slobs! Brooklyn Bangers run this shit!"

"Fuck! Jalen, run!" Jalen knew what was happening. It was a driveby, and he was more frightened than he was yesterday. Jalen took off into a sprint, his father went to grab him by the arm, patting it a few times. They ran side by side. Speeding down the sidewalk, their large baggy clothes flopping over them as they ran fast. They could barely keep up with their feet. Then they heard it, gun shots. It went toward them. More gunshots were heard and they came closer. One Jalen felt go right by his head. Another he saw hit a garbage can in front of him, which got knocked onto the ground. Jalen lept over it, still sprinting at his father's side. They came to the end of the street, to a large six foot fence. They both jumped, struggling as they made their way over it. Just after, the lowrider came crashing through the fence, firing off more gunshots. They ran through the yard, onto the road. More gunshot were heard, and one hit Jalen directly in his right arm. "Ah! Fuck!" It stung like a bitch, but he kept running, his left hand over his bicep, blood running down and through his fingers. More gunshots, and father and son stopped running side by side. He glanced back, and stopped running. There was a bullet wound in Jayceon's chest, and one in the side of his temple. He was dead, a hot tear ran down Jalen's cheek. The lowrider was already down the street, turning at the corner. Moments later, sirens could be heard.


Three years later.



To be continued...
 
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