CONTINUED FROM PART 1
He peddled as hard as he could. He was more excited than nervous, more excited than scared. He had United States currency, in his pocket, but a man was dead. A man that he had told the mob about, had devised a trap to set him up. He got back to his house and dropped his bike out front.
Running into his house, he passed right by his mother, and into his room. He had a mason jar he collected change with, and immediately dropped the bill into it, hiding it under his bed. He looked at Scarface on the wall and smiled.
The next few weeks, William was put to the test. He would continuously hang out with these goons, and they would consistently test him. Robbing people, selling weed, anything he could do. And he would always get paid. Always get a cut. His mason jar was quickly filling up. So he stole another one.
THE WORLD IS YOURS it said on his poster. He sure felt like it. But these men weren't convinced. Not just yet.
The man who had chased the now dead man through the alley that day pulled him aside one afternoon. He told him "Cualquiera puede dispararle a alguien. Cualquiera puede vender drogas. Pero solo un criminal real puede apuñalar a alguien hasta que muera, mirándolo a los ojos todo el tiempo. (Anyone can shoot someone. Anyone can sell drugs. But only a real criminal can stab someone until they die, staring into their eyes the entire time). This terrified William. The man's demeanor was so cold. He meant every word he said. The man went back into the house with the other men, telling him to stay put. He came back out after a few moments, and told him they weren't yet totally convinced. They needed to prove that he could be part of the crew. They needed him to do the one thing that never even crossed his mind before.
They suggested raping a girl. If he could do that, he would truly be as cold hearted as he needed to be.
"Todos lo hemos hecho, chico" (We've all done it, kid) he said.
William's dreams of fancy cars and jewelry, having a giant mansion in the hills, wearing something besides the same three tee shirts and jeans every week made him agree. He didn't know what he was agreeing to, but he wanted to live that life. Visions of grandeur. These were the "cool" guys, the ones that he so desperately wanted to be.
He said he would meet them on Friday night, 245 am.
He knew he needed to be there or he could never show his face around this neighborhood again.
The days went on, and he thought about it non stop. When he dropped his bike on that foggy morning, he took a deep breath of tropical air. He waited for the car to pull up, knowing he couldn't turn back now.
After what felt like days, a car pulled up. They told him to get in. He did.
They drove around the block. They had liquor in a brown wrapped paper bag. They were passing around a marijuana joint. Finally, after rolling through through the 300 block of Santo Domingo, they spotted a woman. It was dark out, but it was clearly a woman. Obviously on her way home from work. There was a light drizzle in the sky, and the fog made it even more difficult to see. They stopped the car a few hundred yards behind her, and got out. The followed her through the quiet streets. The man nodded to William.
They grabbed the woman, wrapping her shirt over her head and dragging her as she kicked and fought, up the stairs of a local abandoned building.
There were so many of those around Santo Domingo.
They got her to the roof.
William looked at the men as they threw her on the ground.
Esto es niño, ahora tienes la oportunidad de ser crudo (This is it kid, now you've got your chance to be raw) they told him. They kicked her, but she continued to fight and claw. Scratching, screaming.
¡Cállate, deja de moverte! (Shut the fuck up and stop moving around!)
They kicked her several times, until blood soaked through the cloth around her head. They had probably broken her jaw, and they figured this before she stopped moving. She only cried silently through the cloth as the men unzipped their pants.
They made William go first.
Each of the men took a turn. They were violent, brutal, and showed zero remorse. They were ripping her up.
When they finished with her, one of them pulled out a brand new .22 calibur pistol. They handed it to William. He looked down at the victim below him. She was practically dead already. They said she was a witness for what she had gone through tonight, and there would be DNA evidence. If he killed her, he was promised a spot in the crew.
He put the gun to her head. He felt a knot in the pit of his stomach, but he thought that maybe he was doing her a favor at this point. With a shaky hand, he put the gun to her head.
Right before he pulled the trigger, he thought about his Scarface poster. He looked back at his new brothers, he thought about the cars, the jewelry, the cocaine, the mansion. He thought about giving the money to help his family.
His family being stable was all he ever wanted.
His finger clicked the safety back and he pulled back the shirt cover.
His eyes went wide, and the bile rose in his stomach. He knees immediately went weak. The eyes that met his were the eyes of his own mother. She must have been coming home late from work........
What had he become?
He began to stutter. She began to cry, even more painfully now than when they were assaulting her. Memories flashed through his head of when his mother would come home late, often times when he was already in bed, but he always had breakfast in the morning. She often worked 3 or 4 jobs to provide for him.
But now what was he worth? His corruption had changed his fate. He turned away, and walked towards the ledge. He didn't know what to do other than jump.
He jumped off the roof.......
William died with no soul, because what soul could he possibly have left? His greed, his corruption, his hopes, his dreams....everything he thought made him better had successfully made him worse. He died less of a human being than he began, and that's never the goal.
The men killed his mother shortly after using the same .22, and they never spoke about it again.
Everyone trying to be trife never face the consequences
You probably only did a month for minor offenses
Ask an inmate doing life if he had another chance
But then again there's always the wicked that knew in advance
Dance forever with the devil on a cold cell block
But that's what happens when you rape, murder and sell rock
Devils used to be gods, angels that fell from the top
There's no diversity because we're burning in the melting pot
They say death takes you to a better place but I doubt it
After that they killed his mother, and never spoke about it
And listen cause the story that I'm telling is true
Cause I was there with William Jaquim and I his mom too
And now the devil follows me everywhere that I go
In fact I'm sure he's standing among one of you at my shows
And every street cypher listening to little thugs flow
He could be standing right next to you, and you wouldn't know
The devil grows inside the hearts of the selfish and wicked
White, brown, yellow and black colored is not restricted
You have a self destructive destiny when your inflicted
And you'll be one of Gods children and fell from the top
There's no diversity because we're burning in the melting pot
So when the devil wants to dance with you, you better say never
Because the dance with the devil might last you forever
Don't make deals with them either.
When they collect, they collect with interest.
"So the Pay Per View did not go de way I planned. I was teaching David Morgan a lesson, an' de ref decided to ring the bell. My first match here es a loss, I was disqualified. I come to a new company, a fresh start, and dey punk me out, mang. Look at me....how could chu see this beautiful face, these big pearly whites, dis perfect hair, and disqualify me? Well, now, chu see, ya all have made a mistake. Chu have all awoken de beast, mang, and the pain is going to be so much worse now.
All dis talk about Josh Kaine, I almost forgot about chu, chico. How could I forget about de man who smells like Post Malone and looks like Dr. House on a crack binge?
Oh, I know why.
Because chu mean nothing. To anyone. Chu mean less to anyone here than Jenny Craig means to Honey Boo Boo.......at least dey es entertaining. Crazy Americans. Chu? Chu es just fucking boring. Chu take yaself way to seriously, but don't have de skill set to back it up. Chu need a gimmick, so let Hanari help, ya? Et es de least I can do. At least when I am done, chu can say chu got your gimmick help from de next World Champion! I've said all along, I am a generous man.
So les see......what would make Josh matter more?
Dis es a tough one.
How about a SJW? I think chu could fit dat role. Chu already smell de part. Just think, chor tag line every time chu get snubbed for a title shot chu don't deserve anyway--get ready, cuz dat es gonna happen often--chu could say something like "Chor only in the main event because you are a cis straight white male!" Chu could wear berks and carry a vape pen. My god hermano, think of de fan base chu would have! Would be better then de 0 chu have now.
No? No like? Okay how about a Hipster? Chu already have de out-of-fashion jacket. All chu need es a sachel, holmes. Think about it, chor tag line could be......"
*Hanari clears his throat, trying not to laugh*
""DON'T MAKE FUN OF ME FOR NOT FOLLOWING CONVENTIONAL GENDER ROLES! SO WHAT IF IT LOOKS LIKE A PURSE!!!" DON'T OPPRESS ME FOR LIVING MY LIFE!!!"
*He does snicker a bit*
"Dat would be more interesting than de dreck chu currently do. No? No like? Okay how about......A guy who tries to point out Cultural Appropriation but he ends up being wrong because the person is actually apart of that culture. Oh, think about it. Chu could be a walking contridiction.......
Oh wait........
Okay, well how about a combo? A Heroin Addict, Racist Atheist, Milkman, and a guy who can't speel. Just one wrestler that has all these gimmicks. Chu could be easily offended and yell a lot about chor opinions.
Oh wait.......well, part of that chu already do.
In fact, most of it.
Alright, well, take my advice to heart at least. Change what chu are doing because it obviously es not working. Chu are in over ya head trying to play pick up with the big boys. Go back to de kiddie court with de 6 foot hoops and let de grown ups handle business.
But I know what chu gonna say. Chu es gonna come out, chest puffed, peach fuzz extra scruffy, and chu es gonna talk tough. Show off ya tatoos, tell us all how dangerous chu es. Chu es gonna throw out a bunch of heavy words dat nobody takes seriously, then huff and puff chor way back to obscurity where chu belong.
I am going to make chu submit, holmes. I es going to make chu squeal like Ned Beatty in Deliverence when I lock in Viva la Republic......and jus' like that Hanari es de new face of Dystopia. The newest threat to V.
De perfect storm es coming, and ya'll can brace chorselves, or get de fuck out of de way.