'Jules' mind went back under the moonlight and night air of Baldwin's Fine Arts Center Garden, where intense anger shifted into an intimate moment of curiosity with a blow of the wind.
Maybe two flames weren't supposed to be that close when raging...
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Sixteen years prior Amador City, Georgia
* Trigger Warning — Heavy Violence + Profanity is presented in this prologue ___________________________________
THE sky's tears crashed along the sidewalk as bodies were being emptied from windows. Blood was starting to run along into wells like rain, mixing in with the earth's cry for humanity. Gunshots rang out like freedom bells—if only there was something to celebrate.
"Nobody steals my shit and gets away with it, heads will roll and every body will drop until I get my hands on that motherfucker Blade," Quincy's voice boomed along with the thunder, making the lighting seem like emphasis to his harsh tone.
His voice cut sharper than any knife, running fear into the mice that scurried alongside the grass in front of the dilapidated house.
"Tell that son of a bitch when I get my hands on him, him and that little son of his will have to deal with the feeling of being stolen from."
While Quincy had a child of his own, he felt no empathy for the seed of his now worst enemy. Losing two hundred thousand dollars and a heap of weapons and supplies in a night wasn't something to be forgetful or forgiving about, especially with his quick temper and even quicker trigger finger.
"Clean this bitch out, all off it. Burn these sorry motherfuckers and the house to the ground. I want to smell flesh like I'm at a mother-fucking barbecue!"
He looked at his most trusted workers, Sean and Vinny, he kept them to the left and right of him as if they were shoulder angels that knew everything that went on in his head.
The wind screamed along with wounded men in pain as more lighting flashed like cameras taking in the horrific scene.
"Load up, we're headed to the west-side, let's give him and his family a scare tonight—after all, it is Halloween."
As the men rode into the night to the west side of the city, their enemies took in the victory steal while rolling cigars and clinking glasses of bourbon filled with lonely ice cubes.
• • •
"That man Quincy, huh? I tell you, when niggas refuse to band together—it's either we all eat or I eat you," Blade said gleefully while holding a cigar in his mouth like a toothpick.
The bright lighting beaming from the crystal chandelier in the dining room of his spacious home made the night even more festive as men in all black sat around the long table like a dinner party.
