Authors: David Weaver
$ $ $ $ $
The Dynasty Cartel was the most powerful organization in the city before The Bankroll Squad emerged. At one time they were pumping coke, crack, weed, and heroin on almost every street corner and project housing unit in the city. They had even infiltrated the suburbs by setting up trap houses in some of the most upscale communities inside and on the outskirts of the city. Those days, Malcolm’s newly formed crew simply wanted the South side, leaving The Dynasty Cartel with the North, East, and West side of the city. Out of courtesy Malcolm set up a meeting with Rally, who was the leader of the cartel. At the meeting Malcolm made his case, and by the end of the meeting, Malcolm’s request for control of the South side was denied. He politely shook Rally’s hand, then he exited the meeting. That same night
Malcolm made a decision that would propel the Bankroll Squad from ambitious hustlers to the ultimate bosses. Malcolm, Catfish, Marco, Prince Tron, and Veronica all went on a rampage. It was mayhem in the city. They successfully took out entire blocks and neighborhoods that were being run by the Dynasty Cartel. They shot up trap houses and used the street sweepers to clean up the corners where the work was being served. Rally was pissed when he heard that all of his soldiers were getting knocked off the map, so he immediately sent a message to Malcolm to let him know that him and his Squad can have the south side. But by the time he could deliver that message to Malcolm, the Bankroll Squad was already running the whole city. They had run the Dynasty Cartel off of all major corners within the time span of four hours. Just like that, they went from asking for the south side to setting up shop on every side; leaving the Dynasty
Cartel powerless. The Bankroll Squad’s reign went from local to global in under four months. Malcolm had weight and break-downs selling in his city, but had Marco strategically place small teams in every other major city in the U.S. that strictly sold weight. Rally was seething with anger because of what had turned out to be a huge disaster for the Dynasty
Cartel’s reputation and for their income. But there was nothing that he could do about it without placing his entire fortune at stake. He would have to rerecruit and spend money to go to war with a group of young wild ass niggas who had nothing to lose. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have enough money to handle it, it was just the opposite. He had
too much
money to handle it. He didn’t want to risk catching a case and not being able to enjoy the fruits of his labor; or somebody in the Cartel catching a murder case and telling on the whole Cartel. Rally just couldn’t see the war being an intelligent response during the time. Besides, he figured that all those young niggas lacked the wisdom that the dope game required in order to have longevity. He estimated that they would all have Federal convictions within a year’s time frame. His estimation was wrong. The only person to catch a case in the Bankroll Squad was Veronica; and she only had about a year left on her manslaughter conviction. During the first year of the Bankroll Squad’s reign, Rally just sat back and watched. He didn’t need the money and he was planning on taking an extended vacation anyway. But during the year that he prayed for their downfall, he saw them floss, stunt, and ball like no other. He saw them do things with their money that wasn’t possible for him to even think about during his first year hustling. They threw parades for the city, had food drives every month, celebrity-hosted parties every week, and did donuts in Bentleys. When Malcolm started the potato chip business, Rally nearly lost his mind. The Bankroll Squad’s lifestyle had become so attractive, that almost half of the Dynasty Cartel’s remaining soldiers were begging to be a part of their squad. That was the last straw for Rally, who had no intentions on having his Cartel dissolve completely. However, it was nothing that he could do to prevent that from happening. Malcolm paid his soldiers double of what Rally paid his, and since Rally was aging, it also made his Cartel less appealing. Rally was suffering of jealousy until one day he came up with an ingenious idea. He had to send multiple buyers to the Bankroll Squad; all of them requesting a different product from them, just to see if the idea would work. And it did work. It turned out that they had almost every other drug except for meth. On a hail mary attempt, he tried to flood the city and state with the drug. And they bought it. He was back in the game, but not the game that he loved the most: cocaine. His Mexican connect berated him as if he was beyond incompetent for letting a young group of niggas take over the coke game. The part that hurt the Mexican the most was that
he
had tried to supply the Bankroll Squad at $12,000 per kilo; provided that they buy at least 100 at a time, and Malcolm declined his offer. Then Malcolm had the audacity to try to sell
him
his coke at $9,000 a kilo. The Mexican was baffled, and when he told Rally, he too was baffled. Rally stepped back into the shadows, while continuing to peddle his meth. He stepped back because of two reasons that he always believed in: one was that every dog had its day, and two was that all things must come to an end. The day he had waited for for so long had finally arrived. The run had come to an end.
eleven
R
ally was sitting in the game room of his mansion massaging his temples when Diaz, his right hand man barged into the room.
“Hey Ral, guess what?”
Rally gave Diaz a dumbfounded expression before covering his face with his hands and shaking his head.
“I’m in no mood for guessing games Diaz.”
Rally then leaned back on his leather couch and stared at Diaz weary-eyed. Knowing Diaz, he would probably force him to guess before he told him what the deal was.
“What D ... you saved a whole bunch of money on your car insurance by-”
“No silly,” Diaz said, cutting him off.
“I got a surprise visitor for you with some surprising information. Information that I guarantee will make you a very, very happy man!”
“Diaz,” Rally said with a hint of heavy fatigue in his voice, “I’m not sure that any visitor can surprise me. When you get to be my age, my man, the feeling that most people identify with as surprise starts to register in your brain as irritation.”
Diaz’s forehead wrinkled up, then he shook his head at Rally’s foolish philosophy. He walked out of the room, then a tall, lanky guy entered the room. The man looked in both directions, as if he was crossing a street with heavy traffic. He made his way up to Rally and kept looking around as if he was paranoid. Rally recognized the man instantly, he had known him since he was still in Huggies. It was his little brother, Dexter.
“Hey bro-”
“Don’t
hey bro
me after you betrayed your own flesh and blood by working for that damned Bankroll Squad! You sell out!” Rally snapped at him.
“Ral, I begged you to give me a job in the Dynasty Cartel and you told me no! I wasn’t good enough to work for you? I needed money man, and my joining them was an attempt to get paid. It was a decision that any young hustler would have made. Even you, my brother.” Dexter shot back.
“I’m not your brother!” Rally snarled at Dexter.
“Ral, we will always be brothers. We are two men, blood and flesh of the same, and products of the same source.”
Dexter extended his hand to Rally, who finally let his arrogance subside long enough to accept his brother’s hand.
“Dexter, I didn’t give you a job because I didn’t want you to be a part of this world. A world of living above the law and above your means and doing any and everything possible to get to the top. And even at the top, you’re still at the bottom. And we’ll always be, because this is the
underworld
. I wanted so much more for my little brother.” Rally said with sadness in his voice and concern in his eyes.
“I understand what you’re telling me Rally, but look at how successful I’ve become. The game is in my blood.”
The door opened and Rally’s personal servant brought in two champagne glasses and a bottle of Ace Of Spades. He poured both men a glass and left the room without speaking a word. Rally took a sip from his glass, then stood up and walked to his window. His brother sat for a couple of minutes, and after finishing his glass he soon joined Rally at the window.
“There is no way for me to deny the fact that the game is in your blood. You’ve made a serious name for yourself in the streets, but when are you going to graduate to being a boss?”
The words sank in as Dexter imagined himself owning a sprawling estate like his big brother Rally.
“Rally, that’s why I came to you today. I’ve been putting in major work for the Bankroll Squad by following directions from a guy named Marco. As long as I’ve been risking my life and freedom for the squad, I have yet to meet Malcolm or even get a promotion. I came to you to let you know that I’m ready. I’ve proven myself Rally. Make me a boss.”
Rally met Dexter’s gaze briefly, then turned away.
“Dexter,” Rally said while rubbing his chin, “your clientele and specialty is cocaine, am I correct?”
“Yeah, cocaine and crack. Why?”
“Because I don’t
deal
coke! I deal meth! You and your little group
owns
the coke game, so how could I
possibly
make you a
boss
?”
“Well, I came to let you know that if we make a move now, the coke game will belong to the Dynasty Cartel, and things will be back to how they’re supposed to be.”
Rally frowned at Dexter suspiciously.
“Dexter, do you owe them some money or something? Keep it real with me please. What’s going on little bro?”
Dexter smiled at Rally’s outlandish assumptions.
“No Rally, I don’t have any type of personal vendetta or anything, it’s just that ... I tried to re-up last night and Marco didn’t answer the phone. Then I finally get a hold of him this morning and he gathers the nerve to tell me that he’s out. So at first I think he’s yanking my card right? But nah man, everybody in the streets is buzzing about this shit cause it’s the first time they ever went dry. Right now, I got 100 niggas that are willing to switch sides if you can get the work. Our clientele are lining up as we speak, waiting on your reply Rally.”
Rally looked at Dexter in astonishment. “Dexter, don’t you realize that you’re standing here
begging
for a war? All 100 of your little friends could end up in the morgue, don’t you see?” Dexter shot Rally an icy glare.
“You think that we don’t already know this Rally? We’re all grown men; just put me in charge and I
promise
that failure is not an option. I’m
ready
for war!”
Rally admired the spark in Dexter’s voice, but wondered if his little brother could perform under pressure in the most critical situations of a full-fledged street war.
“Diaz! Come here!” Rally shouted through the intercom microphone.
It only took a few seconds for Diaz to arrive in the room.
“Dexter, you know Diaz has been my best friend since forever right?”
Dexter looked at Diaz, then at Rally and nodded his head.
“Okay then Dexter, now kill him.”
Diaz looked like a deer standing in the headlights of a speeding truck as Dexter pulled out a .44 at lighting speed and pointed it at Diaz’s chest. Before Rally was afforded the opportunity to yell “wait,” Dexter pulled the trigger. *WHAM!* The bullet penetrated Diaz’s shirt and knocked him off of his feet and across the couch. Before Diaz could move again, Dexter had jumped over the couch after him with a Glock 40 in his other hand and slammed the barrel against Diaz’s hairline.
“Dexter!” Rally screamed ferociously. “That’s enough! Good job. And Diaz better be thankful I made him wear his bullet proof vest!”
Rally walked around the couch and gave Diaz a hand so that he could get up.
“Diaz, call up the Mexican and tell him we need 600 kilos within the next three hours. We’re back in business.”
Rally embraced Dexter warmly.
“Welcome home kid. And before I forget, hey Diaz ... never let people come into my house with a weapon on them again.”
Diaz nodded and walked off, still clutching his sore chest in agony.
$ $ $ $ $
Catfish and Malcolm took Tracy to the Bankroll Squad’s main trap house; which was located a couple of miles south from the downtown greyhound station. The house was nicknamed “Trapquarters” by Marco since it made the most money of all twelve houses. The house was headed by a young lieutenant named Luther, who carried an AK and looked like he hadn’t showered in days. Marco had stopped by earlier and explained that there would be more cocaine later on in the evening, so for now, push the heroin, X, and weed. Luther called him back two hours later and told him that their clients wanted crack, and the traffic was the slowest he had ever seen since he started working there. Marco passed the message along to Malcolm, and also told him that every employee at Trapquarters were getting antsy about the situation. Malcolm decided that since they didn’t have anything to do, they could just watch Tracy for him. Catfish knew, as well as Malcolm, that those young niggas would end up fucking the shit out of her against her will. When Malcolm, Catfish, and Tracy went inside the house, there were a series of fiends knocking on the door. They thought that Trapquarters had re-upped its coke supply. When Luther told a few of them “no,” it seemed as if they disappeared into thin air. Before Malcolm could explain the situation to Luther, his cell phone rang. When he glanced at the caller ID and saw Sweetback Fatty’s name blinking, he knew that he had to take the call. He hit the speakerphone option and it seemed like volts of electricity ran through Catfish’s body when he heard his wife on the phone screaming his name for help. Then the screaming stopped and Sweetback’s voice came crisply through the speaker.
“In this particular war, the theme is chess and the city is our chessboard. Catfish, it is only fair that if you take my queen off the board, then I find it imperative that I remove your queen from the board. I do this shit for a living, so it’s no possible way for you to checkmate me in three moves. On the contrary, you have no idea what kind of shit your whole squad is in. I will prevail from your mistakes and you will collapse under my pressure. Now I advise you to move. You are in check!”
The window shattered and everyone hit the floor as bullets flew throughout the house. Malcolm looked out of the broken glass and saw an old model Monte Carlo speeding up the block.