T.R.A.I.N

PROLOGUE

"Where do I begin to tell my story?'

Train placed the pistol he had in his hand down on the table in front of him. He looked at the man sitting down in the chair opposite of him from the table. Train pulled out the chair that was on his side and took a seat as well.

"What the fuck do you want from me?" the man asked trying to hide his fear the best he could.

"We will get into all of that," Train replied. "But first let me tell you my story."

The man huffed but didn't object. He had other things to worry about like that gun that was sitting on the table in front of him with the barrel pointing in his direction.

'Let me start by saying that even though I like look a calm ass dude which I am," Train began. "If you do anything stupid like try reach for that gun or run, I will be forced to interrupt my story and just kill you. You are not faster than me. You look like you had your last Twinkie ten minutes ago and it got you pregnant so running is not an option for you. I could tell by your back fat and the three hot dogs roll in your neck that stretching isn't your best form of exercise so reaching for that gun is going to be pointless."

The man grunted.

"Don't worry, I'll be quick," Train continued. "I'll be finished before Diabetes and that stroke that you've been begging to come happens. Okay, that's my deal to you."

The man just blinked.

"So my story starts like the fresh prince did but I was the bully tossing that scrawny kid around and I got to stay in my bed neighborhood," Train started. "My father was a bum and my mother was a degenerate. You know typical shit like one of those Tyler Perry movies with the all black cast and bad acting. Anyway, as you can tell I got in trouble with the law and finally got caught at a tender age. Of course, jail any kind of jail, whether juvenile or full grown adult penitentiaries, don't reform just make you a better criminal or just smart enough not to get caught again. But what I learned inside those concrete walls and outside on the streets is one thing that has helped me survive all these years: I know how to kill. Now I know that sounds crazy but I'm actually good at it. The other part of the spectrum is I must be like Bruce Willis Unbreakable because I've been stabbed, pierced and shot even in the head, the fucking head. I'm still here. I never understood it. I mean after all the brushes with death, the only time I ever died when I was dreaming and scared the shit out of some readers."

The man just looked at Train puzzled.

"I mean that scene was graphic," Train smiled. "I was kneeling over a dead girl crying about some shit and I told my brother I was done with all this bullshit. Then he went and shot me. My own brother shot me. Could you believe it? He fucking shot me. Then I woke up in a car and some more shit happen. But through all that, I'm still here."

Train leaned in his chair. "Now here comes the funny part. Some bullshit went down at some house of the mother of a girl that I made a pussy slip sundae out of. It got raided. I ended up going to jail because that's what the plot dictated. Of course, I got out because I'm the fucking man. Come to find out, some idiot had a grudge against me for I don't know what for but he had the power to bust me out. So he did and we finally bumped heads and it ended up with my brother being shot but I digress. Oh, and the flip side we were rivals with these dirty cops that ended up working for us that we ended up killing. Then oh, what else? The dirty pigs' brother also wanted a piece of our ass. That's how my brother got shot. Then to top it all off, we managed to crumble two major drug empires. One being the mother of the girl's soul I snatched and get this, the fucking father of the same girl only he was posing as her grandfather. Then we found that was another empire on top of that. Whew! It's been a long couple of books. I mean stories. I mean one story about me. Yeah, that's right. Anyway, long story short. I guess I should have made the story short first but fuck it. I was finally captured again but this time my captors had a whole another ballgame for me to play. And that my friend is what brings me here today."

The man just stared at Train. "Which is?"

"Oh, your brother," Train blurted.

"My brother?" the man looked puzzled.

"Yeah, he sort of made me a deal and you know a white man always has a good deal," Train said with another smile.

"My brother?" the man repeated.

"Yeah, supposedly you some sack of shit motherfucker that beats up on his wife," Train explained. "But the kicker is that all this time you were raising his baby. Well, tried to. I mean you a racist piece of shit so how much raising can you really do?"

"So what he offered you?'" the man snickered. "You kill me and he let your murdering thieving black ass go."

"See you ruined my story," Train said.

Train picked up the gun off the table and before the man could muster another word, he shot him in the head. The man dropped his head to the table and a puddle of red liquid started covering the table immediately.

"No, actually, he wanted me to scare you," Train said getting up from the chair. "But what I look like scaring motherfuckers. This isn't a Madea's Halloween special. I kill motherfuckers. That's what I do but people don't listen. Anyway, it was nice shooting you. I got things to do. Damn, my trigger finger getting rusty. I think I caught a cramp."

Train looked over the body one more time. He tapped the man's head with his gun.

"Ok, so people can die from getting shot in the head," Train reasoned. "I was just wondering. Glad I'm me."