Crack Baby

(6): "One on One With Da Undertaker"

Ominous.

Santana took a long drag from his cigar and shook his head.

"I thought we were cool. I thought we'd make great business partners. You seemed like a wonderful investment opportunity. Why steal from me? Huh?"

When Santana didn't get a quick enough response, he grabbed his glock .45 and slammed the butt of it into the jaw of the man he was conversing with. Blood trickled down the chin of Mason 'Witty' Morrison. He moaned out in pain, a vein appearing near his temple on the left side of his head.

He leaned forward but didn't go very far because he was confined to ropes, tied and bound like an animal. Hands behind his back, feet glued together, and mouth - that was initially gagged - filling with blood.

"You stole from me and if there's one thing that I hate more than a liar," He took the cigar from out of his mouth and tapped the end of it and watched as the ashes fell to the cement floor.

"Is a thief." He relieved himself of his dress coat leaving him in dress slacks, solid black gator patterned Steve Maddens, a white long sleeved button up and suspenders which he also relieved himself of by taking them off of his shoulders and letting them dangle freely at both his sides.

His once perfectly braided hair was a tad disheveled. Nile had been in the middle of taking them down to rebraid them when he'd received the call from Ryder about the snake incident. He left the crib just like that; his hair a wild mess. A small curl hung aimlessly in the middle of his forehead at the front, looking for a place to go.

"Gimme one good reason why I shouldn't end all of this goofy shit right here, right now."

It took Witty a moment to answer but that's because he was probably trying not to suffocate from his own blood that occupied his mouth.

"Because man," He sobbed. "I got kids and a wife and a family to go home to."

"You being such a 'righteous' married family man didn't stop you from stealing from me. Me? Santana? Smoke? An old buddy. We go way fucking back, Witty. It shouldn't have had to even come to this but when you take from me, you take from my family too and that's a problem."

"That kid isn't even yours." Witty retaliated angrily. Of course he had no reason to be but he was in agonizing pain and it made him feel miserable.

"I could say the same about you, Witty, boy." Santana pulled a photo from his back pocket. It looked as though it were his wife - who he bragged about day in and day out - topping off some man.

There were multiple images of her being intimate with this same man. Santana had names, dates, times, you name it.

"Is this loyal ol Lila? The one you brag about every chance you get?" Witty didn't say anything, instead, a tear fell from his right eye. It slide down his skin that used to be pretty and perfect. The tear drowned in the blood that it was surrounded by.

"Aww," Santana said, frowning and boo-hooing to taunt him.

"Don't be sad because look what I also have." He pulled out another photograph and it was Witty disappearing into the home of a woman who wasn't his wife Lila.

"So y'all both were doing dirt." He shook his head. "Mh, mh, mh. How sad."

"Looks like you two have a lot of explaining to do. Too bad you won't make it home to run that shit."