Deetra

2.

| Jamon in the MM |

The next day was the day of the drop, or D-Day, as we used to call it. Sage was back from Philly with information about the drop. We all had on all black with ski masks. My dad made it an unofficial rule to disguise our voices during a drop, just so no one could identify our voices. We all had clean records, except J.I. He messed around and got caught for vandalism.

"Y'all, this the voice I'mma use on the drop this time." J.I. said with his Professor Klumps impression.

We were loading our pistols up. We were going deep into the slums of Baltimore. This dude owed my dad a couple racks - fifty thousand to be exact. All we had to do was hold him hostage and ask him where he kept his money. Then after that, shoot him, and whoever else was with him, dead.

We rode in a black van with tinted windows. Sage was driving and Jamon was in the passenger seat.

Ann didn't come if that was even a question. She wasn't in the game with us, mainly because she didn't need to be, and she was so against killing and shooting people for money or drugs.

We made a stop in front of the home. It was small and it didn't look nice on the outside with the uncut grass and the broken garage door. I just thought it would be nicer inside like the way it was in most situations.

We said a short prayer and came out, leaving Sage. We parked in front of a different house and walked a few houses up. Key looked out the window that was up the steps, while the rest of us were all at the bottom of the stairs.

"He in the living room, ain't nobody there wit him." He whispered.

We all quietly made our way up the steps. I heard the van move up, and next thing you know it was in front of the house. Sage was in the van, since it was his turn to look out for 5-0 or any other unexpected guests.

To our advantage, he didn't have a peep hole. We could just knock on the door, stay away from the window, and put a gun to his head cause he didn't have cameras out either. We would be in and out, just like that.

Jamon, clicked his pistol after I knocked on the door. We all clicked our guns after that. The dude came to the door, in shock. Jamon walked closer to him, making him back up into the house. It was actually nice.

"Sit his ass on that chair." Key said to Jamon with his British accent, which was surprisingly good.

Jamon hit him on the head with the butt of his gun. "You heard him." Jamon said with a British accent as well.

I guess we all doing British accents now, I thought.

"You owe Shady," I said, referring to Shady, as my dad's street name, "50,000 racks. You're in debt." I said in a British accent as well.

"I ain't giving shit up, he know good and well he owe me them thous'." The guy said.

There was two types of people we encountered during drops and they were, stubborn dudes or pussy dudes. He was one of the stubborn ones.

"Y'all go upstairs and check if anyone's up there and raid the nigga shit to see if you can find where he hides the money, me and Speed good down here." Key said quietly.