Batesville once a quiet suburban city became a sensation when Roman Empire, the man who redefined music, called it home. Tours, parties, and eventually corruption turned it into a mega city. Its glory died with Empire, just like any superstar does poisoned, no heir, tragic.
Fast forward fifty years. Shan and her crew run Blue Black Block a home of controversy and ground where blood is spilled over who controls the block. It's not like other blocks. Selling drugs to school kids is easy schools are close. The mega market gets robbed anytime a gangster's wet dream. But this time, it's the Red City Jumpers, head of operations Vincent's dream. Red City Jumpers because these guys are cowards. They sneak into your home, sleep with your wives, and break your children's legs without warning. They're not feared they're despised because their only code is: honor belongs to the honorary, victory belongs to the victorious.
The room smelled of cigarettes, alcohol, and sex. Well, cigarettes and alcohol came from the sitting room where the crew were counting and packing cash and the good stuff. To her disgust, she heard him snoring the man she brought home yesterday. She had one rule: whenever she took one of those, she didn't want to wake up next to them. Well, this one forgot. No second chances in the world they were born into.
She slid open her drawer, scuffled away some cash, timed his breath exhale bullet to the head his mistake he felt to comfortable causing five of her crew guys to run in screaming, "The fuck is going on?" shan's bullets immediately filled the air. The already not-so-sturdy asbestos ceiling fell a bit. It was Shan's way of saying, "Get the fuck out."
In her twisted defense, she was nude.
Shan was the kind of woman you want to bed and also not want to, but what man would resist a chance to submit, dominate, and be in control of a woman who has always been in control of everything, even for a night?
"I'm not fuckin' sleeping there again, Ben. Get another apartment," Shan said before winding up her window. She was going to check on her money-making machine the mega market a super, super market.
Ben? You probably want to know who he is. Well, another man bound to her because if not her, then he's left to the street loyalty by power.
"Here comes the boss lady," Dave in half a whisper put out his cigar.
The crew arrived earlier than her. So when she started, they started. They wanted an intimidating entrance into the market as their tradition: a woman in a brown coat, short dark hair, a few inches behind her obviously armed men numbering eighteen. The king sorry, the queen doesn't do subtlety.
Their entrance was cut short.
Why was the supermarket empty in the middle of the day?
"Chineri, the fuck is going on?" Gun in hand, Shan glared at the manager sitting at the register, unfazed by the nineteen pistols aimed at him.
Another rule if it has no rational explanation in five seconds, shoot or threaten it.
Mega market doors opened. Bullets flew from behind. Some took cover, some fell. Not Shan. They were outnumbered and ambushed a nice formula for death.
"I pay you good money, Chineri, and this is what I get?" Shan screamed.
Behind some aisle, the only thing between her and a hail of bullets were toys.
"Come on, Shan. I only listen to whoever's pointing the gun at me," Chineri squeaked from behind the register.
"Well, well, well," Vincent chuckled. The air smelled like blood and half-certain victory.
The isle tile was cold he had his gun a few inches away. Sudden movement was the only thing standing between him dying or… what? What was it all for?
Shan wouldn't save him if the tables were turned he'd be dead. That was his conclusion.
A boot flashed. His gun slid and hit Ben, who might be dead. The Red City crew pulled him away and kept him from the other surviving two crew members. His rib ached, but that didn't matter.
Gun to the boy's head, Vincent said, "Come out, Shan, and die with some dignity or the rest of your crew will join the other half."
Vincent tightened his grip on the gun. He knew exactly where Shan was. He knew where she jumped toward and pointed, telling Victor, "Boss, the toy aisle."
Silence. Guns were being loaded.
Shan heard that.
Still, you don't get this far if you can be killed in an ambush.
Bullets were traded in a minute. Shan hit two, hurt some, and that was all her best friend the gun could offer.
Vincent knew it was over.
So she was brought out of hiding.
Four men went for her ; three came back holding her.
Shan, powerless, with a bloody mouth.
"No better day could I ask for," Vincent clapped.
He took the crew boy who gave him Shan's location.
"What's your name, boy?"
"Dave…" He said.
He knew what was on Vincent's face the look of a man not fuckin' around and ready to end this.
Vincent handed him a gun.
"Kill her. You spoke loyalty. Show it."
Dave took the gun, which was more or less thrust in his hand. A lot of guns were making out with his face in case he fucked up. It was simple: if you were asked to prove yourself, you did or die. Inner monologue was unnecessary.
What was that quote in Sunday school? You can always ask for forgiveness.
Shan dropped alongside two unfortunate guys, each wishing Vincent chose them instead of Dave.
We all want to be chosen for something.
Rarely on this side of the bullet. It hurt. It burnt.
The bullet not what Dave did.
Vincent stared at him and laughed.
"Didn't think to blink did you I guess you're the new boss man. I'll get you a new crew and you'll be the familiar face so the transition is easier. Get any funny ideas? Remember this day," Vincent said, walking off with his crew.
Dave stood, looking around.
Left with nothing but dead friends.