Tainted (Urban)

Chapter 5: How The Game Works

Dante's sadistic grin made me want to throw up. I was mad at the fact that he was conscious again, and even more upset that he felt the need to enter the conversation. Of course I knew that he had information to contribute to the conversation since he was a part of all this, but I honestly wanted to hear it from Keith's mouth, not Dante's.

"Shut the hell up," Keith and I spat out in unison, clearly surprising the man with our synchronization. We cast each other a quick glance of satisfaction, taking pride in our verbal tag-team. Keith continued where we had left off.

"Matter of fact, take ya ass back to sleep." He said while groaning and rubbing his face, clearly displaying an annoyance towards Dante that had been building up for awhile by the looks of it. Keith knelt in front of his associate and looked him in the dead of his eyes. There was no longer any trace of fear evident on his face. Dante yanked on the cable tie around his wrists, shaking the entire column in the process. But neither of us flinched.

When Dante saw that the two of us didn't have a reaction to him "baring his fangs", he burst out into a deep, rumbling laughter.

"Y'all are just some punks. The only reason you two are looking at me like y'all are some real thugs or something is 'cause you got me tied up like some damn prisoner." He spat, the glob grazing Keith's face and nearly hitting my foot. Yet another reason why I continually wanted to throw up around this guy. Keith wanted to do far more than puke though. With eyes wide with anger at the disrespect he had just received, Keith shot up. He leaned forward slightly and swung his arm back, and I knew that he was about to deck Dante in the jaw. Before he could do it, I grabbed his wrist and stopped my friend in his tracks.

"You're letting him get to you. If you punched him with the force you planned on, you'd probably kill his dumb ass." I reeled Keith back in, ushering him towards the opposite end of the basement to remain out of earshot from Dante for a moment.

I knew how to calm him down, so I spoke to him soothingly. He resisted at first, making sure that I knew the fact that he "really wanted to beat that nigga's ass." I heard him loud and clear all right, and I shared his feeling. Usually passive, even I wanted one good opportunity to piece ol' dude up. After a little while, I finally convinced my best friend to let Dante corroborate his story and insert his own tellings.

"Aw, I'm sorry for spitting on you. Now stop being a little bitch, and let's tell ya pretty-boy buddy what's been up," Dante lifted his chin and started laughing at his own belittlings as we approached him again.

I couldn't even lie; this dude was really irritating, but my skin was starting to grow thick against his words. I can't say the same for Keith, who looked like he was ready to scream each time Dante even slightly opened his mouth.

I decided to stop delaying the conversation any longer, eagerly beginning the discussion. Keith started off hesitantly, telling me of his relationship with Dante. Apparently, they were running in the same crew together, which I kind of already figured. They clearly weren't friends.

"He was kind of my guide into the game, and technically he's the head of the crew. But I like to think of him as otherwise. To me, he's just the muscle of the operation," Keith said. I looked at Dante to see if he would confirm this statement, to which he only called Keith his lackey in response.

It was easy to see their disdain for each other; it was visualized by Keith's face every time the goon spoke, and it was vocalized heavily by the latter. Continually, Dante made sure that I got the point that he was the "top dog, the big boss" of the crew. Honestly, I didn't really care. I wasn't scared of him in the first place, much less with the position he was currently in.

I was no idiot though, and I knew that the brute had the potential to kill a man if he had not already done so. I could see the malevolence in his hazel eyes.