The Take Over: The Final Chapter

By Michael Hendricks

The fate of Infamous accompanies a fresh take on winning in the game when you're in the streets. After the ultimate betrayal, a new boss takes the reigns and takes things to the next level. Does this boss have the support of those closest or will they go out just like they got in?

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Mar 16, 2023
• ISBN: 9781667889849

Book preview

Chapter I

Strategy stood on the concrete slab that stood 20 feet in the air. He looked down at the clear blue water. The loud noise of the crowded Olympic-sized public pool sounded miles away as so many thoughts spoke to his conscious.

Strategy was just turning 23. Baby-faced, he looked no day over 16 years. He was 5'9" with smooth skin the color of ripe banana. Light brown eyes sat inside long almost feminine looking eyelashes. Niggas never got it twisted though. As soft as his eyes looked, they knew his heart was as cold as an iceberg in an arctic freeze!

Strategy wiggled his stocky body, loosening up his limbs, like everything else in his life. He analyzed, calculated, and contemplated the dive he was about to make.

He never rushed into anything. He thought about everything! His government name was Donnie Michael Scott. But everyone called him Strategy, a name that he had received from a game-related uncle, who had watched him grow up and never act impulsively. His moves, whatever they were, were seemingly always well thought out and strategized.

Strategy played every sport in school from elementary to high school. He made A's and B's and was always in the top of his class. He wasn't shy by a long shot. He was always involved in school activities. Only one person ever made the mistake of calling him a nerd.

Strategy had been in history class. It was a Tuesday. They had been assigned to read and write a paper on the lives of the Aztec Indians. Like everything else he did in his life, he was thorough and serious. Everyone else's papers was like only one or two pages. But Strategy had written 10.

Strategy, wearing a red polo shirt, stood up before the class to give a brief explanation of his paper. When he finished, 15 long minutes later, the class clown and mascot, this super black boy named Steve, laughed out loud.

Dang, I thought she said be brief. He cackled and looked around the classroom at everyone else to make sure he had their attention. This nerd nigga tryin' to become 'historian' of the class!!

Only a splattering of people laughed. Everyone was watching for Strategy's reaction or comeback.

Strategy looked at Steve coolly, his eyes unreadable. Calmly Strategy sat down his paper. With all eyes on him, he strolled over to where Steve was sitting. Strategy heard the teacher give a warning, but he ignored her.

Walking up on Steve he began punching him like he had Everlast written on his face. When Strategy saw Steve's eyes roll into the back of his head, he stopped and without being told walked to the principal's office and confessed his offense. He had no problem no more after that.

Strategy took a breath before he made his dive. He leapt in the air and flipped like it were a million cameras pointed in his direction and he was being watched and judged professionally. Hitting the cold water, he swam around for a few then came up for air.

When he came out of the pool, a slim, petite-built, brown-skinned female cut into his path. As she walked towards him, she held eye contact, her own dark brown eyes twinkling.

Hey, are you related to Michael Phelps? she joked and smiled.

Naw, shorty, I'm related to 'money'! My relatives' color is green, not white! Strategy spoke back.

The female didn't lose her smile. Strategy looked over her. She wore a bright yellow two-piece swimsuit with a string bikini. She had small breasts, flat stomach, small waist, her hips curvy and her thighs towed. Her small bare feet were pedicured.

Where you from? she asked. She had pretty white teeth that immediately brought to mind the song by Kevin Gates. Pretty white teeth, face is unique, body on fleek!!

The wicked, eat-greedy blocks of that Homestead!

Strategy responded, Who you is? Some type of investigative reporter working summertime days!!

She looked at Strategy, still smiling. My name is Dynamite!! she said immediately. Strategy saw her small body doing acrobatic shit on a pole.

Dynamite? How does a little body like you got hold any type of threatening explosion! Strategy said poking fun at Dynamite's petite frame.

You'd be surprised what this little body could do!! Dynamite said poking a curvy hip out sexily.

Well, baby. where I'm from we believe by sight and action. Your body the truth, but mine's is the life! Strategy said flexing his muscular chest. Dynamite laughed and placed a manicured hand on Strategy's bouncing chest. They locked eyes, an unspoken message sent and received!

We got to go find yo' phone so you can place my number in yo' phone. I'm a street nigga, but if I ever see your number, I'm gonna make time for you! Strategy walked behind Dynamite watching her ass cheeks bump jump and jiggle, such a perfect and enormous ass for such a small body. While they talked Strategy saw a future of beauty and prosperity.

.........

Sleepless hid in the dark part of the large public parking lot of the Balleays Fitness Center. She had on a hoodie and stocking cap to help alter her appearance. She was hungry, and the night smelled delicious!! Inside the front pocket, Sleepless gripped the big .45 caliber handgun. Her eyes constantly moving, she was straight in predator mode. Her mind and heart focused on prey. She saw a white guy skipping to his SUV with a big gym bag. Without a thought, Sleepless jumped from her hiding spot and moved towards her victim. Before he knew what was going on, Sleepless was on him with her gun out.

You know what it is, snowman!! Sleepless motioned for him to empty his pockets. Slow motion for you will get you executed!! she growled. It must have been something in her eyes and voice, because he immediately began throwing his property over to her.

Please don't kill me!! he begged. Sleepless flinched at him, almost causing him to defecate all over himself.

Shut up, pussy, and give me everything you got on you. Sleepless took the wallet watch and necklace he handed to her. She dumped everything he had given her into the gym bag she had taken from him.

Now lay down on the floor and count to 100!! Sleepless ordered. When he had his face in the concrete, Sleepless ran to the car she had stolen earlier and sped off.

.........

Block sat on the head of his small dark aqua colored Toyota Corolla. He called it his Block House. He was living in Trinity Gardens. He was on the block hustlin' so much that it became his name keep. Today was moving slow. Ice had started taking off. Everybody young and old was smoking or snorting ice. Hustlas that had other hustlas hustling for them was addicted to ice. Block's only addiction was block hugging. He spent the majority of his days and nights on the block! He moved from hustle to hustle. He started off being a dopeboy, selling dimes and nickels. Then he sold little Switzer sweet blunts. His ambitions were not that strong in the beginning. He just loved the block and loved to hustle. As long as he was on the block everyday hustling he was satisfied. Even if he didn't make anything past a quarter. Now things were changing. His ambitions were growing. His hunger to have almost had become a starvation! Things were changing in his mind. His eyes were visualizing big and better things. Now he was about to flip shit like a mattress worker at a sleazy motel. His ambition now was to flip the game and make the muthafucka rotate backwards.

I'm so fly. I got money, and that's a good enough reason to buy the things I buy. I'm so fly. I'm on point, and I can tell that you jealous, by the look in your eye...

From the hood of his car, Block sung along with the hook of Lloyd Banks song, I'm So Fly. He had on a plain black tee, loose-fitting, along with a pair of dark starched shorts, a pair of white ankle socks and black-and-white Nike Cortez's. He looked like a young/old-school ganxsta instead of a young hustler. There was a difference.

Block watched as one of his customers came walking towards him. It was this guy named Geeky. From outward appearance you would see a young ganxsta. But mentally he was a wizard. He knew computers and technology.

Geeky, what's up dude?! Block spoke first. Geeky just tossed his head without saying a word. Block was really used to the attitude that Geeky displayed. He knew that Geeky wasn't proud of his addiction.

You want yo' usual?? Block asked. Geeky's usual was a gram. When he responded in the affirmative, Block went to a particular pocket and pulled out several grams of ice, all of them already separated into gram bags. He handed one over to Geeky and they exchanged commodities.

You need to fuck with me on more than you do, Geeky encouraged, grabbing the small package.

You need to fuck with me on more money! Block came back. Geeky smiled crookedly.

I got access at way more money than yo' small mind can imagine!! Geeky quipped. Block's eyebrows lowered and he frowned.

Havin' access to and havin' is two different things! Block responded. As long as a nigga have breath he got access to money! Made sense. If a nigga have hustle, determination and dedication he himself have access to billions. Geeky smirked at Block. If only he knew!

.........

Geeky sat in front of the 19-inch computer monitor and studied the screen. To the natural uneducated eye, it would look like he was looking at a bunch of numbers in tiny groups of six. But to the trained eye, it all made sense.

On the side of the monitor was a mirror filled with shards of ice. Geeky was naked, sitting in the lawn chair that sat in front of his bedroom desk. The bedroom system was turned up to a high volume playing old classic country songs. Geeky made him a line from the crushed-up dope.

Look at this shit! Geeky said out loud. His beady dark eyes crawling over the numbers that shone on the screen, his eyes searching for the familiar pattern of numbers that gave him the clues he needed to use.

Geeky had been fucking with computers for a few years. When he graduated high school, proud valedictorian at Cashmere High School in Trinity Garden, he had received a scholarship to attend a prestigious school of technology. But after several months of attending the college classes he had become bored quickly and dropped out.

Now he did small scams and computer repairs on the side. He knew how to program and reprogram computers, design websites. He had been paid to design a few web pages too. In the hood, the name Geeky stuck.

Geeky hit a couple of keys on the computer and it immediately changed. It called for a password. He waited and let his mind calm down for a second, then he typed in a message. The computer screen blinked, then it asked for another password. Suddenly Geeky's long fat fingers moved over the keys at lightning speed. He watched as the computer screen blinked and changed. It kept blinking and changing, and he kept the keys to the computer clicking and clacking!

Geeky saw the picture on the screen before the screen showed it. Geeky sat upon in his seat as the picture crystalized on the screen. Geeky smiles a wide, 43-teeth smile. He felt himself grow belong and looked down at the stiff erection that stood out firm from below his navel. He chuckled. He stroked himself a few times.

Mmmh. This is what I'm talkin' 'bout! He watched as the figures moved around in the jewelry store. The owner was even unaware that his security cameras had been hacked into. Geeky hit a few key strokes and the picture changed. He was now looking inside of a small office. A pale-skinned chubby white dude sat behind a desk talking on a phone.

Geeky hadn't really been searching the computer for this particular place of business. But since it came up, he was excited. Kay's Jewelry was written in the top right hand corner of the screen. Geeky did some more typing. He introduced a new code into the computer that would now give him access to footage inside not only Kay's Jewelry, but he'll be able to get into the main security office of the whole Galleria. Now only if he could get inside the main office...

Chapter II

Strategy pulled up in front of the House of Pain. He really wasn't feeling no dope house, especially the House of Pain. It didn't get its name from being the house where the deacons and the preachers and the elders hung and prayed and sung songs.

Strategy was supposed to be meeting up with Tickett! Tickett and his brother owned the House of Pain and had a young goon running the trap. A young monster in training! What made him the most dangerous was he was always using his mind. They say iron sharpens iron, so Strategy wanted to meet.

Tickett came out of the house bossed up like always. He was real partial to the color white. He had on a cocaine-white fitted hat with brim cocked ace-deuce. He had on a white silk button down with the buttons undone all the way down to his navel. A platinum chain hung from his neck. The diamonds twinkled like little rainbow stars. He had on a gator belt with matching shoes. His slacks were creased slightly. He looked like he either was macking hoes or slanging dope. The latter was the true answer.

Strategy watched as Tickett climbed inside his jacked-up Toyota truck. The leather seats crinkled as he put his weight on the new seats. The cabin smelled like new leather and Polo Blue cologne. Kendrick Lamar's voice rumbled through the speakers. Tickett dabbed and dapped up. Strategy!

What's good, money?! Tickett spoke first.

Just what you stated! Strategy responded, his statement having double meaning. Money is good, and I'm hoping you can assist me in making that good money greater!

He smiled at Tickett, his mouth filled with diamonds and platinum, just a pullout that he had purchased from his boy Paul Wall who was still slanging grills on the side.

How can I assist you? Tickett responded, putting an emphasis on assist, mocking Strategy's choice of word.

I'm about to put me together a bona fide game-altering team of get-money-from-the-grit type niggas. I need that gorilla nigga, Chico, you got! He looked at Tickett seriously.

I heard a lot about that young goon! Strategy explained.