Quasim II: King Inferno (Season Four: Inferno Gods #2)

2. Quameer

Quameer

Recommendation: Armed N Dangerous by Pop Smoke

The minute I entered the side door; I dipped into the kitchen and under the kitchen sink to grab another gun.

They came into my home.

Where my wife and kids slept.

I had to see my daughter with tears and fear in her eyes, something I never experienced because I kept her safe.

This life was something I was born into, but I always promised that my daughter would never know fear. She would never have to see her father bust his gun because she never needed to see that shit.

Sim: They burned my fucking crib down, Blaze… B inside.

This shit was an ambush. They started with Quasim because they knew he couldn’t get to me. I looked at my phone again before putting it in my pocket and listened to the creaks in the floors as they walked.

I knew this house like the back of my hand. They were in Peach’s room.

POW! POW! POW!

I cracked my neck and squeezed the handle of the gun, fuming. Had I not moved quickly, that could have been my Peach. I grabbed the half of Gam’s cookie from the counter and took a few bites because I was about to put these niggas through it. My family was out the house and safe, and now I could end them one by one.

I could still hear them as I hit Wylie’s name in my contacts. He lived a few blocks over from me and could get to me the quickest. “What up, Meer?” He answered as if it wasn’t the wee hours of the morning.

“Niggas in my house, Wy… need you to slide through.”

He laughed. “Oh word? They must be stupid, fucking with Prince Inferno, huh?” I looked at the phone, remembering I told his ass that I wasn’t jacking that name.

“We burn the faces of our enemies.”

“Fucking flames burn slow because the Gods are Inferno,” he replied, ending the call as I crept from the kitchen to the dining room.

Wylie was insane, and we all knew to leave his ass alone. He ran his business and minded his damn business – and truthfully – I think that was what was best for the world. When that nigga let loose, there was no stopping his ass. He served a few tours in Iraq and had PTSD, so even I knew to leave his crazy ass alone.

His loyalty for Quasim was strong. All Sim had to say was get em, and Wylie was coming back with a head in his hands. When Wylie finished serving the country, he came back just to end up homeless. He served this fucked up country that was built on the backs of our ancestors and was rewarded with homelessness. The country got what they wanted from him and then tossed his ass to the side.

It was Sim who found him an apartment and handed him money to get on his feet. Wylie was a man with pride, so accepting help from another man wasn’t something that he wanted to do. Quasim would never mention the help he extended to those he cared about. It wasn’t in his nature to let people know that he stepped in.

He was solid and if he gave you his word, you could take that shit to the bank. Wylie and Sim were closer because they could relate to a lot of shit. The only time you saw Wylie was when some shit went on, and you knew he was about to show his whole ass. The nigga had a rocket launcher, so you know shit was fucked up for me to call his ass.

I remembered and then dialed his number back. “Yo.”

“Walk that rocket launcher back in that fucking house, Wy… I want my fucking house at the end of this.”

“Fuck.” I heard him mutter.

“Nigga, you was gonna blow my fucking ho… never mind.” I quickly ended the call because the footsteps had stopped, and I was trying to pinpoint where the fuck these niggas were in my crib. I was killing niggas regardless, but if they picked my wife’s panties up from the floor and smelled them, I was really gonna lose my shit.

“Hate this shit.” I heard someone mutter, so I hid next to the cabinet that was in my dining room.

“In and out… you already know Polo told us what to do.” I froze when I heard the name Polo.

The other nigga had the nerve to sneeze in my house. “Why the fuck he didn’t bring his ass out here to do it… he sending us to handle his dirty work, knowing that this shit gonna start a war.”

They were so busy holding a conversation that they didn’t notice me standing to the side of them. I extended my arm and pulled the trigger the same time another gun shot rang out. I hit homie that was closer to me, but the other nigga was on the floor right next to him.

“Sug, what the fuck?” I whispered.

She held her finger to her mouth and pointed around the corner. If I wasn’t so mad at her, I would be turned the fuck on. I pulled her behind me as we crept around the corner, and sure enough, there was some big nigga ram shacking my fucking living room.

It was like he had a personal beef with my fucking daughter because he smashed her picture onto the floor. “Fuck you think you going?” I heard my wife, and she sent a bullet into someone while I sent three into big homie’s back, sending him onto the floor.

“Wylie on his way.”

“You called crazy ass Wylie?”

RATTATA! RATATTA! RATTATA!

We both dived onto the floor, and I military crawled over to the fat bitch that I was sure shot my baby’s bedroom up. Even in the middle of shots, I started beating the shit out of him with my gun.

“You niggas need to start letting me know who we got beef with… since when we got beef with the Del Devils?” Wylie walked in calmly from the backyard, shooting a nigga creeping down the steps. “The fuck you thought you were doing?” He looked at the man in disgust and emptied his clip in his face.

I didn’t respond as I checked on my wife, hearing the loud sound of motorcycles taking over my quiet block. The loudest thing on this block was usually the delivery driver that liked to blast his music on the truck. Other than that, it was almost always quiet, which is why I chose this block to live on.

I jumped to my feet, running out the door and shooting at whatever I could. Wylie was right beside me, letting bullets fly as sirens came closer to us. The motorcycle dipped down on the block and was scarce, as the flashing lights illuminated off the houses on the street.

“Fuck.” Wylie muttered.

Three cop cars pulled onto my lawn and jumped out with their guns drawn at us. “Put the guns down now!” They hollered through the speakers on the cars.

I looked across the street at Helene holding my youngest daughter while my oldest clung onto her with tears coming down her face. “Daddy!” she screamed.

“Put the fucking gun down!” The most aggressive of the six hollered with spit flying from his mouth.

His finger was itching to pull the trigger and end me on my own property. I couldn’t stop looking at my daughter as she screamed for me. I wanted to go to her and console her, knowing that I couldn’t move, or they would light me up.

“Meer, get the fuck down… you know they won’t hesitate to lay our black asses out and pretend their cameras don’t work,” Wylie whispered as he slowly put the gun down and got on his knees with his hands up in surrender.

“Daddy, please!” Peach screamed as Helene held her back.

One of the officers moved from behind the car door, and had his gun drawn, ready to pull the trigger. “Put the fucking gun down now or I’m going to sh?—”

“Daddy!!” Peach continued to scream.

I never wanted her to witness this shit. Having to see the police with their guns drawn on her father was something she was never supposed to see. Cherry wouldn’t even remember this, but Peach would. She would always see the police and think of the time they had their guns drawn at her father.

“Don’t fucking shoot!” Capri came running out of the house. “Don’t you fucking shoot!” She stood in front of me with her arms up.

I watched her hands, specifically the one with her wedding ring on, and saw how her hands were shaking, but she stood firm. “Get the fuck down, too! Put the fucking gun down!” another one hollered, clearly scared.

Suga pressed her body against mine while still facing them. “Meer, put that gun down for me, please… I need you to listen to me, baby. Put the gun down and get down with Wylie… please.” She begged me.

I snapped out the daze I had been in and did as my wife told me. Placing the gun down in front of me and getting down behind her with my hands in the air. I rested my head against her ass, while saying a prayer in my head.

“Get the fuck down!” The pressed officer wasn’t pleased that she had gotten me to put the gun down, he wanted her down on the ground, too.

“I am the fucking district attorney of New York City… come get my fucking badge out my back pocket.” She told him, her hands still in the air. “Come get the fucking shit now!” she barked.

“Suga mama!”

“Peach, I promise it’s alright… okay, baby. Daddy and Uncle Wy are going to be alright… Suga mama is gonna make sure of it, okay?”

Peach calmed down listening to Suga’s words. “Okay.”

“Helene, take my babies back inside, please,” her voice shook as she watched her nod and take them back into the house.

My heart had finally stopped beating in my ears, and I could hear the sound of motorcycles and sirens in the distance. The only woman cop came over and took the badge from my wife’s back pocket.

That must have been what she was getting before she ran out here. She flipped it open and saw her identification and the look on her face should have been a picture. “I… I am so sorry, District Attorney Fern,” the woman profusely apologized as Capri took a minute to catch her breath.

Her hands came down, and she reached behind her and touched my head. “The guns are all registered and legal.... someone broke into my home with my children… they tried to fucking kill my daughter.”

The rest of the cops slowly put their guns down as a black taurus came cruising down the street. Wylie and I remained down as Suga spoke to the detectives, and they called back up because it was a district attorney’s home that was involved.

“Slowly get up,” Suga came over to us. “I don’t fucking trust a few of them,” she snarled, as two of the officers stood beside her.

One draped a police windbreaker on her shoulders, and she hugged me soon as I got up from the grass. “Are you alright?” I asked her.

“I’m not… but we can talk about that later.”

“Sim’s crib was burned down…. Blair inside.”

She snatched her head back. “Chill… there’s nothing we can do for them now. Handle business, DA, and then we can go to them.” I kissed her head, as she tried to remain cool.

If she saw that I was cool, then she was going to move off the way that I was moving. She took a deep breath and looked over at Wylie, who had pulled a black and mild from somewhere, and was cooly smoking.

“Thank you for your service,” one of the officers thanked him when he noticed the tattoo on his forearm.

“Before or after you tried to take my life?” Wylie replied, not for the fake shit they wanted to be on.

The detectives made their way over toward us and we all looked at one another, knowing that we were going to say we didn’t know who broke into the house. As far as they knew, we were just a random house because I was going to make sure they got handled. The fact that the Del Devils had something to do with this had me fuming.

My uncle was the head of the Del Devils.