Page 38 of Butterfly 6, Phase 1

What Ethic didn’t know was that Isa was still young, and he didn’t give a fuck, especially right now. Isa would take this night straight to hell. Isa wasn’t a soldier in the same way Messiah and Ahmeek were. He was a mercenary. He was earning Ethic’s respect, yes, proving himself worthy of connection, but he also loved this shit. Isa was a murderer, and he felt no qualms about it.

“Say goodbye to your mama, nigga,” Isa said.

“CALL HIM OFF!” the man shouted; his tone of voice was full of desperation and fear.

“Last opportunity. Who sent you my way?”

“Nobody, man! I work security at the hospital! I laid on you when you brought your people in and tried to come up on a quick lick! It was stupid, man! I’m sorry! We were just tryna make some paper!” the man shouted. “Please, man! Don’t kill me!”

Ethic’s blood boiled at the stupidity. He had wrecked his brain seven ways to Sunday trying to identify where he had slipped up, and it was as simple as a doorman at the hospital. Niggas in Flint were starving, and Ethic walked in with his Piguet, valeting his Range, and distracted by his worries, and niggas saw a meal ticket. It was the way of the land. Flint was the place where the motherfucking valet boy could be a threat. Wolves bred in the little Michigan city. On any given day, a threat could arise. Niggas never needed a reason. Ethic was so far removed from the trenches; he forgot how deep they could get. He should have never pulled up to the hospital in the Range, and he for sure knew better than to walk in that bitch shining. They were right. He looked like an opportunity to a nigga who had nothing to lose.

“Do you know who the fuck I am?” Ethic asked.

“Nah, man, me and my people just saw a lick! My mama about to lose her house, can’t pay for her insulin. I was just trying to get some paper, dawg. Swear to God!” the man yelled.

“Am I airing this bitch out or what, OG?” Isa asked.

Ethic shook his head in turmoil. Every single time he let his empathy show, it came back to haunt him. Cream had been the tough lesson that would impact tonight’s fate. There could be no gray in this portion of his life. Love couldn’t infiltrate his ruling in the court of the streets. Whenever he let empathy overrule his better judgment, he paid the ultimate price. He gave up a son, trying to prove empathy in the past. A man who didn’t learn from his mistakes was doomed to repeat them.

“Who was with you?” Ethic asked.

“They some kids, man! Teenagers. My nephew and his friend! This is on me! Streets dry out here, man! I was desperate! I’m sorry!”

Ethic hated the voice he heard whispering inside him. This was an economics problem, a crime of opportunity, not malice. Ethic was no longer feeding the streets. Messiah had gone legit, and Ahmeek had blown town. Isa was the likely successor, but Isa had the hottest head of them all. What made him a great right-hand, made him a terrible king. He wouldn’t have the patience to build structure in the streets. The top would eat, while the bottom would turn the city into mayhem, trying to prove they were worthy of a top spot. As a result, desperation would ensue. When the hood got desperate, innocent people became targets. This nigga just happened to target the wrong one. He saw a grieving, affluent grandfather, checking in to visit his ailing granddaughter, and he assumed Ethic could be tried. He assumed wrong.

Ethic would need to restore order in these streets. It was necessary because his children spent time in the city.

“You eat what you earn, not what you kill. If you try to kill your meal, nigga, you better make sure it’s easy prey,” Ethic stated. “Sit up.”

The man grimaced as he trembled from the pain of the two holes Ethic had plugged him with.

“I can’t let you walk out of here, but I’ma do you a favor and let it end here. Who’s your nephew? What’s his name? Who’s the friend? How old are they?”

“Sixteen, man,” the man sniveled. “They was following orders. I can’t give you their names.”

Boys masquerading as men. Ethic knew that story. “They’ll live,” Ethic said, holding the man under a tense stare while gritting his teeth so hard his jaw throbbed. “Your mama will keep her house and get her medicine every month.” Ethic felt time fall off his life as he pulled the trigger. Hollow. Dead center of the man’s forehead. His body dropped, and Ethic lowered the gun and his head in disgrace.

“I’m sick of this shit, man,” he mumbled.

“What we doing, man? It’s two little niggas coming out the house now. You think this them? I can lay ‘em down right now.” Isa turned the camera to the yard of the unsuspecting house, and Ethic’s chest ached.

“Let them be,” he said. “I’ma send you an address. I need you to put this work on display, and sweep this shit, make sure nothing’s undone. Send a message. Leave the woman who lives there out of it. Drop off a package later today, a quarter in cash. Take it out your stash and pick it up from me later. Come by the house.”

“By your house?” Isa asked, his voice revealing shock. He’d never had an open invite before. He was given a pass by affiliation.

“Your ears work, no?” Ethic shot back.

“Just making sure, OG. You usually tap Messiah,” Isa stated.

“Messiah’s out,” Ethic said sternly. “You already requiring too much back and forth. I don’t do too much talking. You can handle this, or no?”

“Hell yeah,” Isa said. “It’s done.”

Ethic hung up the phone and looked at his work. He felt nothing. No remorse. No fear. He wanted to maintain his faith and be a changed man, but if the sacrifice were his family or his life, he would tap into his instincts every time. God would have to forgive or condemn. He would find out one day.

Ethic’s spirit was unsettled. The randomness of this incident felt too convenient for him. He couldn’t deny that some of the most powerful men had fallen victim to unsuspecting acts of violence; he just needed to be sure. As he exited the house and disappeared into the night, he placed one call.

“I’ll tell you something, Mr. Okafor, the way I smile ear to ear when I see this number is insane. Thank God my husband is a confident man.”