A Player's Prayer

Fifteen

A black gloved hand reached in through the shattered glass back door, turning the door knob and wincing at the feeling of sharp glass shards dragging against his skin as he did.

"Fuck." The masked man mumbled, watching his blood drip all over the door knob as he crept in through the house signaling for his men to follow suit.

Their silent victory didn't last long, hearing alarms blaring throughout the house on impact as they tried to advance further into the home.

The sound of alarms blaring throughout the house woke Saint out his sleep, reaching for his piece in the dresser by his bed now on alert. He checked the time on his phone seeing it was around five in the morning. Niggas caught him lacking.

Heading into the panic room that was adjacent to his closet, he looked at the camera footage and saw a couple men disguised in all black flooding through the house in search of him.

"Yo what the fuckkkk." He groaned, kissing his teeth.

He thought quick on his feet, advancing to where he kept a small stash of military grade weaponry where he would have quick access to it. They weren't registered but he didn't have time to think about the consequences. He was more worried about making it out alive.

Posting up behind the wall, he listened as a few of them crept up the stairs thinking they were about to catch him off guard.

He waited until he heard them behind his bedroom door before firing off a couple grenade rounds with the M16A1. The gun was on full auto as it pierced through the bedroom door creating sparks as it pierced through his targets. He didn't even care where he was aiming at, just going crazy until he no longer heard shots being bussed back in his direction.

The solid oak doors were now blasted open, a gaping hole right in the center of the door showing some of the men lying dead in their own pool of blood. The scene was gory, a couple body parts blown off scattered about. The gun he had was so deadly he knew he could face hard time if niggas even found it in his house.

"Yeah like I thought." He chuckled to himself. Niggas basically bought a knife to a gun fight the way he laid them out. He knew he wasn't in the clear yet, knowing he would have to go downstairs and face the rest of the men but the sound of sirens soon filled the block indicating APD was already on the scene.

Pulling the trap door under the floor boards by the window, he threw the guns down wincing as he heard a couple of them smacking hard against the concrete floors at the impact. A couple mill just down the drain.

He watched from his cameras as police fled the house with their weapons drawn, tackling a couple of the men and shooting down others. The scene was bloody and brutal as police stormed each section of the house killing anyone who was dressed in all black.

They soon made their way upstairs seeing more dead bodies before reaching Saint.

"What the fuck happened here?" Officer Wilson asked with wide eyes, completely bewildered.

"Karma." Saint mumbled inaudibly.

——————

"Essentially law enforcement want to know how you got hold of military weapons in the first place but we're moving forward with the notion that the security detail hired to protect the Williams family most likely armed the house in their stead and you used it in a moment of panic. Now we just need to forge some paperwork showing the gun is registered under one of said men and we're good to go."

Saint's attorney Allen Sephardi was the best in the game, keeping Saint out of prison the past couple years he been involved in the life.  He was a beast and everyone knew that. Al never lost a criminal case before a jury either as a prosecutor or a defense attorney, and has not lost a civil case since he started his career.