Top Peeled Back

One

His senses were deprived save for the buzzing of an orbiting fly and the blinking of a small red light in the center of a pitch-black room. His hands and feet were bound to the arms and legs of the chair in which he sat. His mouth was duct taped shut. Blink.

This is some buuuullshit, he thought.

Recapping his most recent memories, he tried to make sense of it all. He remembered the concert, his performance, and the crowd chanting for him to come back on stage. Blink. He knew he had ignored the chants, lit a blunt, and left without an encore instead. He was certain he got into the back of his limousine and took a long drag as his driver ascended the parking garage ramp. He was pretty sure he blew the smoke against the limo partition. But that was where the internal timeline stopped.

I ain't smoke that much...

Only the fly in the darkness followed. Blink.

If this is Scotty's bullshit fuckin around I'ma drown that man dog. Swear this is the last time that mother fuc—

The fly landed on his ear and he let out a short shout which was trapped behind the adhesive gag. He shook the fly from his ear and breathed deeply to calm his nerves. A cooling bead of sweat ran down the side of his brow. Blink. But after a final calming breath, soft footsteps began to descend a nearby staircase and his heart reverted to a quickened pace. Seemingly floating overhead in the dark space above, the footfall crescendoed. The initial bead of sweat was joined by several nervous others. Blink.

It's a prank, homie. Ashton Kutcher shit.

The phantom steps landed on the ground floor, continuing their march in his direction. A doorknob was turned, yet no additional light entered the room as a door creaked open. Feet shuffled and the door slammed shut. A deadbolt turned. Then another. Then a third. Heavy steps circled the room, and he felt the heat of an unseen body stop directly behind his chair.

Fuck this shit, man.

He began to writhe within the restrictive binding. Inarticulate demands were hurled. Blink. The chair threatened to tip over as he rocked side-to-side in protest. But in a show of force, a strong hand from behind steadied the rocking. And as all four chair legs returned to the ground, a string was pulled above his head, illuminating a bare lightbulb. His fruitless fight faltered as his eyes adjusted to the blinding glare. Gilded jewelry on his neck, ears and hands sparkled in the new brightness. The fly zoomed past his ear toward the naked, intoxicating light. Its buzz now elevated in pitch.

A gloved hand then ripped the tape from his mouth. The bound man released a guttural groan that bordered on a scream as facial hair and lip skin were ripped off in kind. Beads of blood began to dot the raw skin where the tape had been after untold hours of captivity had allowed the adhesion to take hold. Now, with the room a-glow and his face a-sting, he fought to maintain composure. His overwhelmed head swam. But finally free from vocal constraint, he looked to assert a semblance of control.

"Scotty, where you at? This shit ain't funny."

"SAY YOU AIN'T THE GREATEST." A deep, distorted voice boomed.

"Man...what?" As his vision returned, his composure waned. He found himself in a windowless room painted stark white. As for control? It could be kissed goodbye with blood-speckled lips. A heavy door thrice bolted stood guard with a bulky camera positioned directly at his face - its red recording light continuing to blink.

"SIMPLY SAY 'I AIN'T THE GREATEST' AND YOU WILL LEAVE HERE WITH YOUR LIFE." The instruction echoed from every corner of the room. After a moment of contemplation, the bound man burst out in laughter.

"Scotty, man, quit fuckin' playin' around, I ain't got time for this. You got me, bro, but let me out of this shit." He craned his head left and right trying to catch a glimpse of the speaker without success. "I'ma still beat your ass, but let's go, dawg."

His focus settled back on the camera and his eyes followed a trail of wires leading out of the room underneath the locked door. Blink.

The fuck?

He looked back into the lens, and with a squint, was able to make out his own reflection strapped to the chair. To his reflective rear, he could see a hooded man in all-blue coveralls looming with a gas mask obscuring his face.

"IN YOUR SONG TRICKY TREAT, YOU SAY, AND I QUOTE, 'I WOULD RATHER DIE THAN SAY I AIN'T THE GREATEST.'"

"Maaan, Scotty fuck you," he mustered through a laugh.

A hollow cylinder was then pressed against the base of his skull. And as the shadowy figure cocked the gun, a metallic chill reverberated throughout the hostage's head. The laughing stopped. Blink.

"I AM NOT SCOTTY AND THIS IS NOT A RUSE. IF YOU DO NOT SAY 'I AIN'T THE GREATEST' RIGHT NOW, YOUR LIFE WILL END."

"The fuck is a ruse? Dawg, I ain't sayin' shit, I see you recordin'. Ain't about to be no bitch and let this bullshit get out. Now quit fuckin' playin' and untie this shit!"

With a silencer mitigating the sound, the man in blue pulled the trigger. Blood and brain sprayed the camera lens, blocking out the feed. Trevor "Big Tricky" Watkins had been shot dead on a live stream with fifty-seven people tuned in.

Big Tricky, "Tricky Treat", Big Tricky, For Hire Records, ©2017

Gas me up, straight filling up yo' hoe

She into whips n' chains n' fuckin' blindfolds

Talmbout "Trick, can you suck these toes?"

Nah bitch, I can't dirty up these golds

Used to see me robbin' blind the corner c-sto'

Now I stunt 7-leven in my 9-leven – roof folds

Should I buy a chain or a chain of fuckin' Texacos?

Now only people gon' sí me is folks in Mexico

Turn up one time for ya boy

Get live one time for ya boy

Smoke good, do well, come up, get out

Smoked good, did well, came up, got out

X2

I was only twelve lightin' up on the p-bus

I was only twelve when twelve tried to detain us

So don't come 'round me talkin' with no lameness

And don't come 'round me talkin' out ya' anus

Now it's zombie on the vert, my shit brainless

Keep it on the low, all my side bitches famous

I don't take an L unless I'm on the train, bitch

I would rather die than say I ain't the greatest

Turn up one time for ya boy

Get live one time for ya boy

Smoke good, do well, come up, get out

Smoked good, did well, came up, got out

x2