The Stunning Adventures of Beeboy pt. 3

Chapter 5

I locked eyes with Mogadishu despite the chills I felt seeing how furious he was. I could hear his breathing becoming more shallow and rapid. It was a symptom of his anxiousness. His mind was moving just as rapidly. Suddenly he glanced to his right, then turned to look back at me and lunged toward me with a howl. I was sprawled on the stage before I knew what hit me. Then I heard the gunshots. Moga got off me and asked if I was alright. He told me I owed him one.

King Midas and his street team, the 14 Karats ran up in the club guns blazing. I don’t know how I didn’t notice. I must have been too focused on what Mogadishu was going to do. I felt a buzzing in my head, but I just figured the danger was coming from Moga. King Midas had it in for both of us and he wasn’t taking any chances this time. He was supposed to be here to judge the battle and it completely slipped my mind entirely once I saw what Mogadishu looked like in person, all six and a half feet and near three hundred pounds of him. I kicked Midas’ ass last week and beat him in the battle. Mogadishu and King Midas had a long-standing beef. That’s when it hit me that this battle was a set up. Midas was going to up his rep by eliminating two of his enemies at once. But Mogadishu saw it coming and I’m pretty sure he just saved my life. I did owe him one, and it was mere seconds later when I would come to repay that debt.

One of the 14 Karats jumped up to the stage with a golden knife and slashed at Moga. I kicked that fools fronts in, grabbed his arms and threw him at two of his partners that were approaching the stage. Moga nodded his head at me and cracked his knuckles. ”It’s a problem in here now, fam.” That’s all he said then he rushed at some of the remaining Karats, dispatching them quickly with world shattering punches to their faces. He was making a beeline for King Midas, who was still firing shots wildly in the club. It was surreal, some of the Karats were still coming for me and I was so ready for the ruckus.

I was a blur, my pop and lock jabs and windmill kicks were making short work of these henchmen? His crew? Other than canon fodder I really don’t know what to call them. One came at me swinging a golden pipe, trying for the back of my head. I dropped back and bent my knees like I was doing the limbo and his swing landed wide off the mark. Then I rested my hands on the ground and kicked him in the jaw. Another leaped at me with a katana. I rolled to my left picked up a microphone stand and used it to deflect the sword which got stuck in the middle of the pole. As he was struggling to remove it I tossed the stand to the side got him in an arm bar then slammed his face on the ground with more force than was probably necessary.

Mogadishu didn’t seem to be having as hard a time with these goons as I was. There were about 10 of Midas’ flunkies scattered around the dance floor of the Ziggurat club. One was lodged inside of a turned over speaker, another was shoved headfirst into the drywall. His legs were all you could see. Moga ripped this spot up and now he was lumbering toward King Midas who was trying to reload his Gloc before Mogadishu could get to him. Moga reached into the back of his pants and pulled out what I swear was a cannon. At the sight of that gun Midas dropped his gun and ran for the exit. Moga stood still raised his gun and took aim. I heard a loud crack like thunder as Mogadishu let off one shot, missing Midas but obliterating the window and blowing the passenger side door off of an SUV parked in front of the club. Midas was still running and Moga yelled out, ”You’re a dead man walking Midas. Gunning for me twice. Twice? But your bitch ass can’t shoot for shit.”

I was like, ”Yo Moga, ease up man. There are still people out there; you might hit one of them. I’ll go after Midas and, I don’t know, drag him to a precinct or something.” Moga gave me a mean scowl and said, ”Jail, nah man anything less than the emergency room is better than he deserves. Personally I’m trying to toe tag this cock gobblin’ boxer streak sun of a bitch.”

We were arguing about it long enough for Midas to get away and for us to hear sirens approaching. I said, ”I understand if you want to shake the scene man, but I’m going to give the cops my statement and try to help out here with the clean up.” Mogadishu looked at me with a doubtful smirk on his lips.

“Man, just when I was starting to respect you, you say some old punk shit like that. I respect your skills though.” Looking over his shoulder at the wreckage of the bar and the broken remnants of King Midas’ crew, Mogadishu says, “Yeah, I guess I’d better get out of here. If the cops ask, I bounced as soon as mo’ foes started shooting.”

He gives me a pound then walks up to the shot up SUV, hotwires the engine and drives off with the passenger door slamming open and shut as he heads back to Brooklyn, turning the corner to avoid the oncoming police cars. The bartender and host crawled out from behind the basement door, and seeing as I was the only rapper still there, he gave me the prize money. I take some plastic handcuff strips out of my pouches and start locking up the unconscious 14 Karat Gang before the police arrive.

What a heck of a night.

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Filed under beeboy, fiction, story time

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