“Whatchoo doin’ on my street bruh?”
He hadn’t looked where he was headed, but as he looked up Cliff could see at least three individuals standing in his path. All three of them were muscular individuals that looked ready for mayhem, the masks covering the lower half of their faces stamped with the BLM symbol and an upraised black fist making them look even more imposing. Three sets of angry eyes glared at him as Cliff stopped, holding his backpack strap a little tighter out of sheer reflex as he stood where he was.
“I asked you a question ya little half-breed bitch!” the first man growled at him, “Whatchoo doin’ on my street homie?!”
“I’m just going home,” Cliff stated calmly.
“You’re what?!” shouted one of the others, a bald-headed individual with muscles upon muscles.This man approached Cliff first, with the other two trailing behind, swaggering as most street hoods did. Upon their shirts he could see the BLM flag, one of the many that had sought to replace the symbol of the country that these piles of human garbage professed to love but had helped to tear down. That was his father talking to be certain, since Cliff had tried to do his best to just get by without causing any problems. Unfortunately, problems had a way of finding just about anyone. Case in point with the three men coming at him now.
“I’m just going home is all,” Cliff said calmly, standing his ground as the first to approach him pushed forward until his mask was almost touching Cliff’s face. The coronavirus that had ravaged the world only five years prior was pretty much gone, but some people still wore the mask since it made them feel stronger, more badass somehow.
“You don’t live around here!” the thug yelled, “I woulda turned yo ass out by now if you did little bitch! You in the wrong hood homie!”
“My home is-“
“Bitch I don’t give a fuck where your home is at!” the man shouted, “Matter of fact maybe I do. Gimme your address so I can go pay your mama a visit. C’mon little coon wannabe!”
Cliff sighed as the man shifted, his intentions quite clear as he shifted his hips and launched a haymaker at Cliff’s face in the next second. If he’d been anyone else, this might have worked. But Cliff had been living in the city for the last ten years, and he’d learned a few things in that time. This man obviously wasn’t a boxer, or a martial artist, and as such he likely had no defense for what was coming. As Cliff stepped to his right he swung at the same time, his fist crashing hard into the other man’s jaw with such force that the thug’s head rocked to the right hard enough that he didn’t have time to stumble before he went down, hard, to the pavement below.
That should have been the end of it, but of course it wasn’t.
(to be continued)