-Narrative: Bein' betrayed isn't the best thin' in the world ta have happen ta ya'. With my friend shot, my crew M.I.A., cops lookin' fer me, and the scariest gangsta's in America on my tail, everythin' else seems less important.-

-Setting: We are in a FedEx truck, at night. Jersey is behind the wheel, and Matt is in the back of it, which is empty, save him and the growing pool of blood surrounding him. Every once in a while, Matt lets out a small scream of agony, his hands covering his left side. Jersey's face, which is slightly splattered with someone else's blood, looks as if it has seen hell. For all tense and purposes, he has.-

MATT: Why the hell are we gettin' away in a fuckin' FedEx van! We're only goin' thirty!

JERSEY: Because with a FedEx van, ya' can do anythin', 'specially break the law in a reasonable fashion! I can double-park this barge in front of the White House without taa much discrepencey. And if ya' don't scream so loud, we can get away with it!

-Matt can only nod at this, as his now-pale face tells a tale of battling pain and agony. Jersey's knuckles are also white, putting pressure on the steering wheel so tight, that it starts to bend out of shape. The FedEx van ponderously drives through the Detroit night, the sound of sirens, generating from police and ambulances, sound off in the distance, far from the fleeing FedEx van.-

MATT: Where the hell are we goin'? Bogata!?!

JERSEY: I know a guy in The Heights who owes me, so that way he won't put you in as a GSW.

MATT: A what?

JERSEY: GSW, Gun Shot Wound. Police get suspicious of that, and the Syndicate will scoure anyone brought in with it! He'll take ya' down as a knife would, or public brawling, some otha' B.S. excuse ta' keep ya' alive.

MATT: Ya', just gotta survive yer slow-ass drivin'. How fuckin' far are we from there?

JERSEY: 5 minutes.

MATT: Ya' said that when we got inta' this metal crate-on-wheels, and that was 10 minutes ago!

JERSEY: So I lied.

-Matt's face scrunches up as he sticks his tongue at Jersey, then a wave of pain hits him, and Matt's head hits the bottom with a thud. Jersey's head whips around at the sound.-

JERSEY: Don't ya' dare fuckin' pass out on me, Damn it! Get the fuck up!

-And the FedEx van zooms through the night.-

-To Be Continued-

03/22/2002

Posted on 03/22/2002
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