Once a Blood, Always a Blood pt1 (open)

[J Lethal]

First day. First day in a long, long time. Then again when you become a full time Blood schooling really ain't an option. For J it was dealing, buying, theft, fights, arms deals. Hell you name it he'd probably had his hand in it. Well, there was one thing he had never done, at that was kill someone. I mean if you shoot a bitch and he dies of an infection at the hospital, that ain't killing. Thats just a sucky situation.

J never thought he'd be back here again. School...Public High School 259. Man why'd it even have that number. Didn't even know L.A. had 259 schools. Ehh, what difference does it make. A schools a school right, this place can't be any more different than any other school.

Sure J had heard the rumors, but no way those could be true. Just some stories a buncha Asians and crackers made up to keep people like him away, right. There couldn't possibly a gang of super powered gangster called Dragons, or a masked man running around campus, or some huge drug scandal with something called Brimestone...right?

"You know oh so little Lethal."

What the fuck was that. Who said that. There ain't nobody here. Nerves he guessed. Oh well, a fresh start will do that to ya.

"Quiet Bwon Samdi!"

Now shit was getting weird. He had heard this all lately. The voices. They started out as whispers, now they were getting louder. Talking to each other. Fuck it. J just wanted to get through his day. With a bag swung over his shoulder J Lethal made his debut to 259. Unfamiliar faces were everywhere. It was odd. J had never been around this many white people at a time.

"Aw, how cute. He's nervous."

Okay that was a weird one. Most of these voices were deep and African, but that one sounded like some white chick. Just ignore it J thought to himself. It's nerves, just nerves. Let it go. Maybe it was some chick walking by taking a good look at him. After J was a fresh good looking face.

The halls of 259 were bigger than he expected. J assumed they'd be like jail walls. Narrow and white with little sense of hope or freedom. Definitely different than his expectation. Now it was time to find his locker. Shoot, what was the number and combo again?

"2387. 45-2-15"

That one reminded J of a teacher. There was power, wisdom, and leadership filled in that voice. It didn't matter to J how he had just retrieved his forgotten information. All he cared about was getting to his locker and ditching his bag. J did as such and listened to the bell ring aloud. Shit, oh well. Missed first period. Let's take a tour.

J Lethal wondered around the halls of 259. Getting himself adjusted to this life would be hard. He was so used to Inglewood and his projects with the Bloods, not school. Tis was unfamiliar and a bit overwhelming, It had just dawned to him he was the only black kid around so far.

"This place feels like a battlefield. I can smell the blood."

Goddammit! Not another voice. What was this, the fifth one!? Jesus Christ he was going insane. J quickly started to feel paranoid. Alone. For a while he felt as if his mind had been taken over by something. What ever it was it lead him up various stairs and eventually to the roof tops of 259.

"Ahh. Thats what Dhamballah loves! Fresh air all around!"

And of course, there was number six. What the fuck was going on? Now it wasn't as traumatizing as it was annoying. Hell he already knew two of there names. J sat against a chain link fence on the roof. He could only guess it was there for suicide prevention and to stop people from being thrown off the roof. Now he began to think. The first voice, it was a man. He was scolded by a woman who called him Bwon Samdi. And then that last one called him self Dhamballah. Shit sounded like it was straight outta Nigeria.

J Lethal would sit against the fence breathing the fresh air and making himself adjust to the school and his voices. Little did he know what this school had in store for him, and that the voices in his head were the agents of god.

*Bang!*

A large noise came from behind the door leading up to the roof. J was startled and shot up to his feet in paranoia. His first though was Bloods. They came to take him back or kill him there. J wanted nothing more to escape his father's fate at the hands of gang violence. Once a Blood, Always a Blood.

[Farren]

I kicked the steel door open and briskly walked through, heading straight for the north end edge of the roof. Not even realizing there was another person there, I walked past him and stopped at the fence, peering out over the side as best I could. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a cell phone, dialing a number I knew all too well. The other end of the line picked up before the first ring was even done.

"You there?"

"Yup, toss 'em up."

I flicked the phone closed and dropped it into my pocket, waiting patiently and quietly. Barely a moment later a pizza box, as if by magic, appeared in the air, flying up the outside of the building. It sailed over the fence, staying perfectly level the entire time, and I caught it on the drop down. Setting it aside, a small white cooler appeared next, following the same trajectory as the pizza. I caught it the same way and set it next to the box. My phone buzzed a second later and I answered it on the second ring.

"All good?"

"Yup, thanks Juan. I'll pay ya back tonight."

Closing the phone once again, I stuffed into my jeans pocket and knelled down, opening the cooler. Inside was a six pack of Corona beer, all on ice. Inspecting the box, I flicked it open and saw a large pepperoni pizza with extra cheese. Perfect. I knew I could count on Juan. Collecting my lunch, I turned around and for the first time saw the other man on the roof. I stopped mid-step, staring at him, an awkward silence filling the air. Then, breaking the weirdness, I held out the cooler and pizza and said,

"Want some?"

[J Lethal]

The fuck? That was...odd. J had lived for 18 years, and had seen some of the worse and best shit human beings could ever do, but he had never seen a flying pizza. The man who had made the earlier large noise seemed to be older. Perhaps a teacher of some sort. Nah, he looked too...normal and chill to be one of those uptight assholes.

J stood up and watched as now a mini cooler flew over his head in the same path as the pizza. With a bewildered face J looked down over the side of the building. His face was pressed against the fence but all he could see was a tiny little dot. Man, he needed to get his eyes checked or something. J turned back to the man with the pizza and beer offering him some.

"Take it Lethal. Nothing feels better than a bottle of booze."

"Yea man, sure."

J got close to the man grabbing a Corona and a slice of pie. It smelled damn good. He wasn't normally a big pizza fan, but this sure did look promising. He was a fan of booze though, then again aren't we all? J had only ever had the cheap stuff though. Classic 40's back when he was a blood.

"I'm J. J Lethal. You go to school here too?"

J tried to really examine this man. Again, too old to be a senior unless he was held back quite a bit, but not old enough to be a teacher. Then again, J hadn't had a real teacher in years. Maybe they changed'em up. If was California after all. Where the young stay young, and the old get younger.

[Farren]

The large black man took a beer and a slice and started chowing down. I smiled, happy that he was laid back enough to simply take a friendly offer and not try to kick my head off like some psychopaths here. I walked over the fence line and took a seat on the ground, popping open a beer with the bottle opener on my key chain while cradling a slice in the other hand. I munched on steaming hot pizza while the other man looked me over. He was cautious, I liked that.

"I'm J. J Lethal. You go to school here too?"

I took a swig of Mexico's finest and mulled over how best to answer the question. It was simple enough.

"Yeah, something like that. I'm the Guidance Counselor here."

That should put him in a bit of a tailspin for a second. I definitely wasn't acting or looking like your typical asshole counselor. I took a big bite and scanned my eyes over Lethal, taking in the spectacle. He was a big guy, had some decent muscle on him, definitely seemed to carry himself like a thug, or at least a vague semblance of one. I could be wrong of course; didn't see too many black guys in this school, or at least they didn't last long. I finished chewing and said,

"Lethal huh? That really your name or just something you use for the stage, like Dr. Dre?"

Yeah, I could be a bit blunt at times: I'd gotten plenty of busted noses from that habit. But I could also hit back just as hard. Hopefully Lethal was the playful type.

[J Lethal]

Guidance counselor? This guy? Sipping on Corona eating some pie on the roof top acting as if he was some cocky senior. Don't get it wrong, J liked the guy so far, but was still surprised that this casual cat was a teacher. Or guidance counselor. Whatever. The last person who tried to 'guide' J was his sort of Mom. When he didn't listen he ended up a Blood, fleeing from the Bloods, and ending up here. Perhaps next time he'd listen.

"Naw man, it's my real name. Stage and Porn name is the Lethal Injection."

J laughed a bit as he talked. He really liked this nonchalant guidance counselor. Hell it was his first day and he was already drinking free beer and eating free pie. Good pie at that. The cheese was delicious and blended perfectly with the sauce. Later on he'd have to find out who that Juan guy was and get some more.

"Do not be so trust'in Lethal. You do not know who this man is or his past."

"Let tha mon be you old bitch. Let him live a little."

"How dare you!"

"Mami Wata, why don't you go back from the swamp you came from."

Well that sure was distracting. J looked out to the sky with an annoyed face as those voices argued again in his head. Who were they. They fought earlier too. The man, Bwon Samdi, and he called her Mami..W-...something.

"So, anything interesting ever go down here, or is it all pizza and beer? I mean I've heard rumors 'bout this place. Any of'em true?"

J took another swig of Corona. About half way gone. This was his chance to learn about this place though. Was there really a bunch of white and Asian super powered teenagers running a muck, or was it just some bull told to form a random reputation. He didn't believe it at first, but when you have 6 odd voices arguing and talking to you in your head, you'll start to believe a lot more.

[Farren]

I smiled wide at the 'Lethal Injection' comment. Porn name, eh? I wouldn't put it past some of the students at this school, hell, I'd even considered it once or twice back in my junior year. I finished off the last of my first beer and set it aside, listening lazily as Lethal asked another question. I was still having a hard time believing his name actually was J Lethal but it would be rude to ignore a friendly chat. I reached over and snagged a fresh brew, popping it open with a flick of my thumb and saying,

"Nah, sometimes we drink bourbon too, though I think the principal prefers vodka. Honestly though, yeah, interesting stuff does happen. There's backstabbing and politics all the time, grudges being settled all over the hallways, teen pregnancies, drug addictions, super powers like fire hands burning down classrooms, the whole nine yards. They keep me busy."

I said everything casually, matter-of-factly. There was no other way to put it - that's just the way things were. Deciding to comment back on the something I'd noticed a moment before, I took a bite of pizza and said in between chews,

"Saw that cringing face you had a second ago, care to say why?"

[J Lethal]

Fire hands? The hell? Guess the rumors were true, unless this guy was lying too. Now, he was too casual to be lying. Too...nochalant or whatever. J trusted this guy even though he still didn't know his name yet. Then again he was a teacher. Would it be disrespectful to ask his name? Or was he rude for asking. When your a Blood and you ask someone there name you'll get your ass beat. You should knw'em just by there reputation.

"Aww, it nothing really I guess. Nerves or something."

J really didn't know what to call it. The voices. Was he suffering mental trauma since escaping the Bloods? Was it just the nerves of his first day? Or was some sort of god like beings with roots in Western Africa talking to him through enhanced Qi from his mother? Probably one of the first two.

"Don't you be tell him nuthin! You don't even know his name!"

True, he didn't know his name. Hell this guy could be working for the Bloods trying to find him! Son of a bitch!

"Think Lethal. Think"

No, he couldn't be a Blood. If he was J would be dead already and not on his way to enjoying his second beer. He'd just stick to the drink for now. J was never a heavy eater.

"Alright, honestly. I've been hearing some sorta...voices in my head. I know that sounds fucked up, but they've been talking and arguing for the past few days. Yous a guidance counselor, you gotta know something about this kinda shit, right?"

[Farren]

I put my beer down, swallowing the last bite of the pizza slice. Hmmm, voices? Now that was interesting. Usually it was something mundane like split personalities or daddy issues. People talking that no one can hear but you? That's worth investigating. I optioned against leaving my beer behind and grabbed it as I stood up, leaning against the fence. I put my left hand in my pants pocket and held the beer by the neck in my right. I looked the kid over once or twice and said,

"Voices are usually hallucinations caused by schizophrenia, psychosis, or depression. Sometimes they're the result of traumatic stress too. Have you done anything truly horrifying lately, something that would leave a big impact? And what do the voices sound like? God, angels, demons, Michael Jackson?"

Yup, I could never keep it clear and joke-free for long. But what had started as a pleasant drink with lunch had turned into my first official psyche evaluation of the day. Exciting...

[J Lethal]

J laughed a bit at the MJ comment. The whitest black man of all time, literally. His music wasn't bad, in fact it was one of J's guilty pleasures. If any of his former-fellow Bloods found out it's probably be his nuts on a pole. Then again, who didn't appreciate the greatness of the Thriller.

"Well, it sounds a little odd, but they all sound pretty different. One sounds like a demon pimp. One like a god of some sort. There a young white hoe, and a n old black lady who sound straight outta Africa. Theres a angry sounding one who sounds kinda dumb, and lastly a...weird one. Kinda reminds me of a hippie or something."

"Da hell mon! Don't be tellin him bout us!"

"For once I agree with him. He not know dis mon."

"Lethal! Shut-it!"

"Oh come now. Let da boy be."

"He's too trusting!"

"He must find his answers. Dis mon is wise and good. He can help Lethal on his path."

Marcus held his head a bit as all the voices erupted. Apparently a lot of them didn't want to be known. Fuck the, J wanted answers and if this Phsyc could help him out, then he was going to get help. He didn't care if these were the minions of god or so sort of long term acid trip.The J remembered the first question. IF he could tell this man about the voices, why not his past as well.

"I was a Blood for 3 years. I quit about a month ago. I guess I have been stressin. Ya know what they say? Once a Blood, always a Blood."

[Farren]

Gods, pimps, old black ladies, wise men, valley girls, and hippies.

"Kid, as a counselor I'm not supposed to say this but...you sound pretty fucked up to me."

Then I took a swig of beer, savoring the bitter taste as it slid down my throat. Unorthodox style yes, but it got the job done. Then I heard Lethal mention being a Blood. Well that certainly explained a few things, especially him being one of the only black guys ever since on the campus. I tipped back my Corona and polished off what was left, chucking the beer off to the side and over the roof edge. Some poor freshman would probably get hit with drinking on campus after the bottle was found. Oh well, gotta man up and harden up some time.

"Bloods, eh? Interesting..."

I pushed off the fence and walked over to the pizza box, bending down to grab a bite but pausing midway. I glanced back at the man. A plan was forming in my head. I said coolly,

"What made you quit? I thought gangs like that never let you leave?"

[J Lethal]

"Ain't that the truth."

J got a bit of a laugh outta that. He was indeed fucked up. But, seeing as how he had escaped the Bloods, went to school, and now lived in constant fear for being killed, fucked up was the only way to describe it. J still just called the voices nerves. They didn't matter that much to him as long as the sayed quiet.

The rest of his beer would flow down his throat. Nice, smooth, and ice cold. From there he'd follow what his new friend did. Huck the bottle over the fence, grab a new beer and slice of pie. It was almost childish. It was a new enviorment. When in Rome, do as the Romans do.

"Well in short the Bloods left me to die after a battle with some Crips. At least I think they were Crips. Anyways, I ended up with 5 bullets in me and just left to die. Luckily someone had called up the cops.

Once I healed up, since they didn't hit anything fatal, I told the cops all I knew about the Inglewood Bloods. I figured it was an eye for an eye, betrayal for betrayal. After that I came here to finis school.

For all the Bloods know I'm still dead in that alleyway. Then again they could also be right outside these school grounds waiting to cap my ass. Cause you're right. They don't let you leave."

[Farren]

OOC: Sorry for brevity, trying to catchup on posts.

"Hmmm...I see."

I snagged an extra wide slice of pizza and took a big bite, pretending to contemplate something serious in my head. Actually I was just taking the time to enjoy the cheese. Juan always used the best mozzarella. Swallowing the mouthful, I turned back around and looked Lethal straight in the eye before saying,

"Then what is it you really want, Lethal? Revenge? Cause snitching on your former brothers ain't very satisfying. Or to move on with your life? Cause this school is gonna test you more than any gang fight, I can promise you that."

I took a step towards him, the calm smile on my face but a certain air of viciousness welling up around me. 'What do you really want...?"

[J Lethal]

Bah! Who dis mon think he be?

Sipping on the last of his second Corona J listened to his new friends words. They seemed less calm now. More demanding and hostile. Who did this guy think he was? What right did he have to try and corner him with beer and pizza to get information out of him. Playing the generous type then turning on him. J's blood started to course faster through his veins. He was getting mad. His friendship was being crossed. Or it was just the paranoia. One of those two.

"What do I really want?"

There was defiantly an angry tone in J's voice now. He could take a few joking comments about being a fuck-head, but there was something about him now. Something vicious and malicious slowly forming from the Guidance Counselor. Now how to deal with it. What should he do?

"What should I do? Should I admit I've made mistakes? Should I tell you I miss being a Blood? Should I tell you I am not a role model? Should I be who you want me to be? Should I accept my role as a villain? What should I do? Should I just forget my past and move on? Should I be who you want me to be?"

A serious look formed over J's face as he stepped up to Farren. His eyes were dead centered and staring into the man's soul. There wasn't any anger, joy, or sadness in his words. Just a straight face and a series of straight forward questions. What should J do. Be a chaotic Blood and lay waste to the L.A. Crips? Or try to recover from his past and become a spirited and educated leader.

Then the silence broke with J's laughter. He loved the new Lebron commercials.

"Man I don' give two shits about them Bloods. I'm not a gangster anymore. For now I'm just a black kid from PHS: 259 whose got voices in his head trying to graduate his ass and get outta here."

J's mood had completely switched back to normal. A smile on his face and a bit of laughter as well. He never took anything too seriously. Why bother? Life; your in, then your out. Might as well make it memorable. Now J just hoped this guy in front of him would react in a similar way. In some weird feat of physiology this was J's defense mechanism. Lighten the mood and the subject will be dropped. Or at least he'll get another slice of pie.