[MAIN QUEST: FRESH ON THE BLOCK]
[OBJECTIVE: GAIN REP]
[REPEATABLE QUEST ACCEPTED: BLOCKBOY]
I stood on the corner of a gas station, as I had in rotation for the last month.
Not the one I was shot at. That one was just a street over.
Whenever someone came and asked for a product, I would hand it off, collect the cash, and be on my way. Q's product had gained a bit of notoriety since I had joined Three-Six. Aside from the addict or vagabond begging for me to give them his concoctions-some even offering…illicit favors…the job was simple.
Over that same month, Maurice and his friends had grown increasingly distant from me. This included the son of Jack and Trenton, who I was first introduced to. In addition to Ock, who heavily discouraged me from this path.
Shortly after I joined Three-Six, Maurice called me and asked why I did such a thing. In great detail he told me story after story of his time with the various organizations in Stanlowe. I kindly reminded him that it was he who told me what I needed to exact my revenge on Xay Thomas, who I was nowhere closer to finding than I had started.
In the same month, all of the spectacle from Maurice and I's earlier exploits had vanished. Not because the law of Saint Stanlowe had given up.
Between the homeless growing more rampant, gangs growing more bold, and drugs increasing in volume, the lawmen of Stanlowe kept busy. Three-Six was but a drop in their bucket.
How humbling.
How was I supposed to gain a reputation with a status like this?
How was I supposed to gain enough resources to find Xay?
How was-
"–ey! You good, nigga?"
I was pulled back into reality. A man stood across from me with bills clenched in his fist. He scanned his surroundings constantly, hiking his shoulders into his hoodie in an attempt to keep a low profile.
"Uh…yeah…what do you-"
"Just the bud, here."
He handed me the money. I handed him the product. He took one last look at me and walked the other way. I neatly folded the cash and placed it back into my pocket.
"Let me get it. Or hold a dollar."
I recognized the smell before I recognized the voice. On this specific block I had met a street urchin who called himself "John". Frequently he begged for any product I would let him get his hands on.
"Go away, John. You know my answer."
Despite this, John would always come back. I did my best to understand his sentences through his mangled teeth.
"Let me hold a dollar! Please, J-man!"
J-man?
"I'll give you a dollar to never call me that again."
[PERK ACTIVATED - LISTEN UP!]
"Deal! I swear I won't! You won't hear that shit ever again-!"
I rolled my eyes and took out a dollar. He snatched it so quickly I did not catch his movement. Such swiftness could have only been matched by a goblin winning the lottery.
At least the goblin would have bathed beforehand.
The only other thing that came from my block encounters, aside from cash, was the slow progression of my [PRESENCE] stat.
[PRESENCE: 5 > 12]
With that came one equipable perk.
[WORDSMITH - LISTEN UP!]
[10% ADDITIONAL CHANCE TO SUCCEED PRESENCE CHECKS]
This activated more times than I could count. Oftentimes I ignored it unless it obscured my field of vision.
Oftentimes it did.
I swatted it out of the way and stood at my post. Compulsively I would check my rank, hoping to see it rise with every passing day.
[CURRENT RANK: HOOD RAT I]
Nothing.
Every day since I had joined had been nothing.
Anytime I was out here the only company I had were my thoughts and John. The moment I thought about him he came jogging back from across the street. I braced my nose for his presence as he spoke.
"Y'know…I know some homeless out in North Park…"
John took a sniff of something from his palm. I did not catch what it was, but a moment later he surged full of life. I took a step back and stared as he caught his breath on the sidewalk.
"They uh…they're looking for a dealer. Since we're buddies-"
"We are not comrades."
"-I told them about you and whoever the fuck you're with. Said they could find some shit to sell to get the good shit."
I turned away and started walking.
"Hey-hey! That's opportunity! That's money!"
I said nothing in response. If my reputation had not risen from selling to respectable customers, and I use that word lightly, then I can only imagine how fast I would descend back into B.A.N. to sell to them.
"Wait-wait-wait-"
John pulled at my arm. At this range, the smell had become unbearable. I swiftly separated from his grasp and kept walking.
"What more do you want?" he called after me, "Ain't money all you niggas care about?"
"You wanna get me something?"
I turned around and walked back toward him, jutting a finger in his face.
"Xay Thomas. You give me something on him–a RELIABLE something–and I'll give you a sample."
John walked around in a circle. I eyed him with suspicion as he crossed from behind me to in front of me again.
"Yeah…yeah I can do that. Xay Thomas?"
I nodded.
"The brother of Rich Thomas. The leader of the Stans of the West Side," I continued, "He eludes me."
John scratched his head and walked away. Before crossing the street he took one more glance at me and nodded.
"Xay Thomas."
John walked off in silence. I watched him disappear behind a building before deciding to take my leave.
The look in his eyes.
It was different from the blank stare he normally displayed. For a moment, I swear I saw his eyes narrow with…intent?
Despite how poor the homeless of Stanlowe appeared to be, one thing remained true: They always had the coin to afford more substances.
Somehow.
My phone rang.
Another call from my cousin, Dayday. Maurice had told him about my involvement with Three-Six. Ever since that day, he would call two or three times a week discouraging me from continuing. Two to three times a week I would wonder why he cared to lecture me. He made it clear that he left Stanlowe, I do not see how this gives him a right to tell me how to live in it.
My walk back to Will's house was uneventful. Despite my low rank, people knew who I was.
"Gas Station, what's good?"
"Aw shit, what's happening, Gas Station?"
"Yo. Gas Station. What's the word?"
Still named after my moment of weakness. While there were worse nicknames to be associated with–one of them being snitch–this was not my brand of recognition. I needed to reinvent how people saw me.
I approached Q. He was sitting on the porch partaking in his special brand of hash. He held out his hand.
In the one month I had begun working for them, there was one thing I had gotten especially good at.
I met Q's hand with clean force. A crisp pop echoed up and down the street.
[PRESENCE CHECK PASSED]
[32/50 PERFECT DAPS]
No progress had been made on Xay Thomas, this is true. But the smile a pristine dap brings to my face will always be genuine. I entered Will's house and took my usual position on the couch furthest from Rod. He and Will were already in from the day.
Will sat reclined on the floor counting small piles of money. Rod lounged in the chair, muttering curses about the mother of his child. Every so often he would get up and converse with her over the phone in another room. One month had gone by of these exchanges, and I had not heard one pleasant thing.
Q walked in and sat on the couch beside me.
"New strand–" he coughed out, "Shit hits different."
A month of staring at Q's creations and every day he never ceased to amaze me. I never knew what I was looking at, but I was certain it was an art. Some would have purple lines, others had lime green sparkles, and most bizarre of all? This one had small orange vines adorning the outside.
"You know what, Q? I will partake."
I started to rummage through my pack.
"This nigga–put away that lame ass pipe!" said Rod.
Will laughed as I held up the only other thing that brought me joy. I had procured an antique pipe from a local shop that sold many wondrous wares. This pawn shop held items of all qualities, but none more than the pipe. I swore it looked just like the one I had back in [ ].
The gaps in my memory still persisted. Every so often I'd have another moment of clarity.
I took a hit from my pipe.
[STATUS: HIGH - 15%]
Must be a slow burn.
The flashes of memory were more infrequent. Yet, their faces were burned in the back of my mind. All I can see are their faces held in contempt of my actions. It was the same type of face Maurice made when I told him of my plans with Three-Six.
A pity he wanted no involvement. Regardless, my plans will move forward.
I just needed to make one.
Rod, Will, Q and I collectively exhaled. A majority of our days had started and ended like this. Each one ending with the smell of hash collecting in the foyer.
Rod said something before I did.
"Fuck, man. Where the bitches at?"
Q and Will sat up.
"That's what I'm saying!" Q rallied, "Ain't been a bitch around here for a minute!"
"Someone's throwing a party somewhere. Lemme check," said Will, grabbing his phone.
I took another puff from my pipe and nodded. When was the last time I had conversed with a maiden? Maybe a change in routine would do me good.
"A worthy venture," I nodded, "Wenches, harlots and the like. Where do they gather?"
Rod turned, weariness in his eyes.
"Wenches, nigga? Harlots, nigga?"
I gestured my pipe in agreement. Rod covered his eyes with his hands and groaned.
"Will, we are not taking his corny ass with us. He finna scare the hoes!"
"I assure you, my demeanor will not alarm 'the hoes'. Why you refer to them as gardening tools still is beyond me."
Q and Will did all they could to hold their laughter.
"Got one," Will said between coughing, "Something's going on in June Park."
A pane of text flickered in the corner of my eye.
[EVENT DISCOVERED: JUNE PARK FUNCTION]
Function?
Rod coughed out a question.
"Didn't they boss get his car jacked a while ago?"
I nearly choked on my own smoke.
"You good?" asked Q.
I glanced up.
[STATUS: HIGH - 72%]
Manageable. I gave Q a thumbs up.
"Yeah," smiled Will, "They're still hot about that. But some real bad bitches are gonna pull up."
"If June Park is having a function then you know North Forest is gonna pull up." Q stood and stretched, "Fuck that."
[NEW ORGANIZATION: NORTH FOREST]
I sat up in my chair.
"Chill, Q, North Forest doesn't want anything with us," Will stood and stretched, "Too busy trying to stabilize their own shit."
"North Forest has too many opps for us to be stepping in with them. Nope."
"Who said we're going with them?" chimed Rod, "We're going for the hoes!"
"The hoes are gonna get your ass in more trouble than it already is," sighed Q, "I'm good. I'll get mine in another way."
Q continued smoking. Will shrugged and turned to me.
"You in, Gas Station?"
A party would hold lots of people.
Lots of people hold lots of information.
Lots of information is exactly what I needed.
I took a deep inhale from my pipe and smiled.
"Let us go to this function."