Guild. [OF]

Sunday.

Guild

/gild/

Noun

1. A medieval association of craftsmen or merchants, often having considerable power.

2. An association of people for mutual aid or the pursuit of a common goal.

Synonyms: association, society, union, league, organization, company, cooperative, fellowship, club, order, lodge, brotherhood, fraternity, sisterhood, sorority

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I walked down the dark, barren alley.

Just me, myself and I.

It was an unusual 73 degrees out, pretty cold for the state of California. I wore my black hoodie that read "Fucking Awesome" in white with some khaki pants and my dirty rugged dark blue and grey vans.

I caught a glimpse of someone at the end of the alley. As I walked closer I recongnized the figure.

Vincent.

I stopped at the middle of the alley as Vince approached me, meeting me halfway.

"Where's my money?" Vince stepped in my face. I sighed and wiped my face with my hand.

"I'll have it by next week I pro-"

"You said that same shit last week!" He shoved me to the ground. While he kicked me in my ribcage all I could do was curl up in the fetal position. He went on for 10 more minutes. He grabbed me by the front of my hoodie and forced me to face him.

"You're lucky. I'm in a good mood today, so I'm going to give you one last chance. I want my money by Friday." He said slowly. Today was Sunday.

"How am I supposed to get ten thousand dollars by Friday?" I asked, getting angrier with every word that came out Vince's mouth.

He smirked. "Not my problem, Thebe."

Vince released my hoodie, causing me to fall back on the ground. I groaned in pain as I lifted myself from off the ground. I'm 100% positive I have a couple of bruises. Vince stepped back and chuckled at my struggle to get up.

"I want my money by Friday. And don't try no slick shit, I'm watching you." And with that, he snapped his fingers twice. And I already knew what that meant. I quickly turned around and started running to the best of my ability with my bruised ribcage.

Three figures appeared from the shadows behind Vince and started sprinting after me. This chase scene was oh so familiar to me. I even knew who was chasing me. One of the guys was Damon, nickname was Da$h. His father is Damon Dash the first, one-third founder of Roc-A-Fella Records. Then there was Herbert A.K.A. Ab-Soul. Wild hair. Black ass lips. Heard he was two-timing, he belonged to another gang while he's working with Vince. T.D.E., I think it was called. Something like that. That Herbert nigga obviously doesn't know what he's getting himself into, Vince ain't anyone to play with. Disloyalty is a no no. Lastly, the white guy. Malcolm. Not much to say about him. Keeps to his self. Follows orders. A good worker in my opinion.

Continuing to run as far as my legs allowed me, I turned the corner and took my usual escape route. I looked back and I finally lost them. I slowed down and started to walk. I was almost at the trap. How am I going to get ten thousand dollars in less than a week?