The warehouse reeked of wet concrete and the metallic scent of blood.
“P-please don’t do this. I swear man, I’ll fuckin’ tell you everything, just don’t shoot! Please. Shit I got my girl back home, I’ll do anything!”
He let out a muffled cry as my older brother Tyler hit him right in the mouth, causing a trail of blood to trickle down onto his shirt, staining it.
Not like it mattered. The guy was good as dead anyway.
“Shut the fuck up!” Tyler barked as Mark and I exchanged a glance with each other. “You knew what you were doing when you came after us!”
“No man, that was Loco’s-” He was cut off when Tyler struck him again, this time cracking his nose as Mark jumped in, holding his head back so Tyler could bash his face once more.
“I don’t give a fuck about Loco.” He snapped, looking at me. “Shane.”
That was my cue.
I rose my nine millimetre at the nameless guy’s head, who had a blue bandana wrapped around his neck which was now soaked in blood from his broken nose.
The guy was full on crying now, high pitched squeals of pleas.
That was all I needed to know- he wore the colour blue; which meant if I didn’t kill him first, he would try to kill me or one of my brothers’. Or even one of our girls.
And that couldn’t happen.
I didn’t even close my eyes when I pulled the trigger, sending off a deafening pop right through the eyes- quick and painless.
Mark flinched, looking away. The body went limp in front of me, as the blood started seeping onto the floor as the body followed with a thud.
I had taken someone’s life because of a single colour. Not because I knew who they were, not because I wanted to, but because there was no other fucking choice. Not for me.
Eventually my blood turned cold as the killings became easier; I became emotionless. That’s how you had to look at it, just faces, no names, nothing. To me, a Crip wasn’t even considered human so I could attempt to calm my already damned and deranged conscience.
“Get the bag, Mark.” Tyler ordered, and then turned to me, patting me on the back. “Good job, brother.”