“Well, this ain’t ya day, and the beast has gotten a lot uglier,” Slick shot back. “You keep running around with the fucked-up mind-set that your name is gonna protect you and somebody’s gonna wake you up from that little dream.” Slick got off the bench and walked away.

“Sensitive-ass nigga,” Rel mumbled, finishing his cup.

True sat within the darkened recording studio thinking. An unreleased track from their album played softly through the speakers. Haze wafted from his nose and swirled around his head like a ghostly crown. He took another swig from the fifth of Jack Daniel’s that was dangling at his side, but could only feel its burn as it went down. The potent whiskey had paralyzed his taste buds an hour prior. With his eyes closed, it felt like he could feel the darkness caressing his face as a lover would, and he welcomed it. At that moment, he felt like the absence of light mirrored his own existence.

True had read the bullshit Daily News article, and he knew the cat who had written it had no idea what the real deal was. Lex had given up robbing when he joined the group, and had gone harder than all of them when it came to making songs, so it was highly unlikely that he had beef with anyone. Jay was a notorious asshole, but didn’t have the guts to piss off anyone who might’ve killed him. No, this had to be a result of Pain’s bullshit. If he guessed correctly, it was over drugs. In that case, it was the only thing they’d gotten right.

True’s lips moved along with Lex’s verse as he spit on “Draw Arms,” which was slated to be their next single. Almost his whole team had been taken out in one shot. Pain, Jay, Lex, they were all gone. Not only were they the core of the group, they were his family. True had his differences with all of the members, but they were still like his brothers. It would be hard to do without them.

A sliver of light coming from the door caught True’s attention. With the details of his comrade’s deaths still unclear, he wasn’t taking any chances. In a less-than-fluid motion he grabbed his .45 off the floor beside him and drew on the door. When Don B.’s face became illuminated, he lowered it.

Don B. was startled when he noticed True huddled in the corner holding a gun. “Fuck is you doing?” he asked, turning on the lights. He looked at True and was a little disturbed by his appearance. His eyes were rimmed red and swollen. Even True’s clothes were ruffled as if he had been sleeping in them.

“Sorry, I didn’t expect nobody to come through here.” True sat back on the couch. “What you doing around here this time of night?”