sent them._

"Buss y'all guns!" he shouted in a rage. "What are y'all waiting on?! Didn't y'all come to kill me?!"

It was mind boggling how things came to a head. Two persons he brought into the game were now waving guns at him in a threatening manner.

"You're on some bullshit, boss man. You went against us, the same one's you brought in the order," voiced Itchy.

"Roger sent y'all to kill me, right? So kill me!" screamed Desmond in a rage, spittle flying from his mouth.

Itchy and Bulla began to inch backwards.

"We will catch up to you, boss," said Bulla.

"Okay, keep moving," said Desmond.

He earnestly wanted to take on the two, but could not. Such a move would be going against his beliefs. The boys did not harm him, soif he was shot. Miraculously, he was not hit. He began to pace the building's hall, paying no mind to persons who walked back and forth by him. _Damn, Desire._

__ What had he done?

He was sure Desire perished in the hail of bullets intended for him. _Damn._

Figuring it best to disperse, he exited the building and snuck to his car parked a block away.

_____

"Damn, man, the nigga got away," fumed Mark, upset he didn't get a clear shot on Roger.

"That fucker used the pregnant bitch as a shield," voiced Clarks.

Mark was flabbergasted by Roger's blatant disregard for the pregnant woman. _He's cold._

__ He'd done many treacherous things in life, but could never pull a move like Roger had.

"Clarks, that's some real fucked up shit that nigga did, man,"