Saving Grace pt.1

"Boss. News from your pa'tner."
The cook knocking slowly opened the door to his boss's room, hoping that the man was dressed and of sound mind.
"Quit stalling, get in here and tell me."
Glad to see pants where they should be, the cook stayed near the door in case of a quick get away.
"He has gotten wind of a shady man in the Hive, been hearing that they are the one makin that real good shit."
For a moment Lawrence couldn't believe that something had actually been found. Even if it was a whisper of a rumor, every lie had a nugget of truth.
"Thank you, Fashiik was it? is that it?"
A quick nod to verify his name, the man was surprised that his boss even knew it.
"No sir, some boys been seeing more action on the streets. Word is that shits been gettin real with the power, curfews and security checks gettin real bad too."
Lawrence shook his head to acknowledge this, sending the man away before taking a seat at his desk.
He did not have any official documents, meaning that if his operations were found, he was fucked. As if a cosmic middle finger had been raised, Fashiik nearly fell back in the room, panic in his eyes as he slammed it closed and pressed against it. He spoke in a strained whisper.
"Boss. We got visitors and they want you."
Not sure why the man was having such a panic attack, Lawrence put his coat on in order to cover his bare chest and left to address the issue. The law enforcement was a joke in this area, so he thought that it was just another routine bribe. Surely these "upgrades" to security hadn't reached his zone yet.
Walking down the stairs and past the main kitchen, he found it bare of any cooks. Fashiik scrambled behind him and ran out the back door, answering where the others had gone.
"Bunch'f spineless bastards."
Looking through the peephole, he soon felt a small piece of anxiety take place. At the door stood several armed men.
"How can I help you officers?"
The man in front of the others acknowledged Lawrence's voice, then signaled. A bulky son of a bitch came forward, carrying a ram. Seeing this, Lawrence was smart in diving out of the way as splinters showered the hall. The lead man calmly walked in, eyeing the druggy sprawled on the floor with contempt.
"Mr. Chakel? For creating and selling illegal substances and living here without proper documentation, we are here to place you under arrest. Come with us and do not resist or lethal force will be used.”
A small tick began in Lawrence’s hand, a small indicator of the nuclear detonation of “Oh Shit” enveloping him. With cuffs on his wrists and being led to a vehicle waiting outside, he once again cursed the world for conspiring against him.

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