The Price ࿊f Peace

☮️: 018

Somewhere in Oakland
Saturday May 4th, 2024

Elijah was leaned back in his drivers seat with his Glock on his lap, driving by to help his brother with something at his spot.

Camarro hadn't specified over the phone, so Elijah was in the dark about what exactly it was that he needed help with.

It was a chill day for Elijah, there wasn't too much he had to do that whole week, so he wasn't too stressed.

He'd managed to save 2/3 of what he needed to open up his own studio, which was a long term goal of his, to make his money work for him.

In other words, Elijah had been in a pretty good mood. This week.

Last week was a whole different situation. The good parts were overshadowed by him slipping back into bad habits by running a fade with Sticky.

He did that nigga bad. Like horrible. Grisly, even.

The nigga woke up all disoriented, and Elijah wasn't even on no bullshit, he just wanted the fade real quick.

Maybe it wasn't already implied, but he hated when niggas put their hands on women. He could understand defending yourself, but that shit with Syara was straight up overkill.

She should never have been bleeding like that. And he fucked her eye up too.

Amir didn't even shake his hand. He felt he'd waited too long already, at the request of Crater, to let the nigga get his bearings so it could be fair.

Elijah let him do that, but when it came time to fade, he nearly knocked him out first punch. He probably caught him off guard, but he didn't really give a fuck. The intention was to beat his ass and he did.

After a few more punches to the face, Sticky ended up putting his guards up to cover his face, prompting Elijah to change his approach. He was kicking him at first, but it quickly changed to stomping on him, which was one of the most disrespectful things you could do, other than spitting.

But spitting was just nasty.

Money knew that soon enough, he'd probably be getting a call from the big homie to set up a D.P, but he really didn't think about it at the time.

It was possible he wouldn't have had to had he not stomped on dude, but what was done, was done.

And Amir didn't regret it.

He'd do the shit again if the nigga wanted to, but the pussy was hiding out.

Amir hadn't heard anything about Syara, so he didn't worry about it. Kisses wasn't crying on his phone about it anymore, and neither was Camarro, so he wasn't really tripping.

He hadn't told anybody his whereabouts that day when he'd gone to her apartment, and he assumed she wouldn't either.

It wasn't anything too serious, and it didn't change anything. He still didn't like her, and she still didn't like him.

Ron-Ron was supposed to be already be over at Camarro's spot, so was Hooty, so currently they were waiting on him.

Elijah ended up pulling into the condominium complex after a rather short 15 minute drive. With how well shit was going for him, business wise, he couldn't afford to get caught speeding with multiple unregistered guns and hella weed in his possession.

He was slapping some Young Pappy & Lud Foe the whole way there, bumping the last song as he drove through the condominium complex, until he reached a parking spot by his brother's shit.

Elijah pressed the button that turned off his car, looking out his side mirrors to make sure he was good, before tucking his gun in the waistband of his loose fitting, 501 jeans that were held up by his belt.