#THE MACHETE TWINS AND THEIR ASS POCKETS ARE HARD ENOUGH TO DEAL WITH

[tricksterbxtch]

coinincident replied to your post: “I wanna play Outlast some more but I can’t hang with my game partner...”:

god, I'm surprised I even made it through the sewers part xmx the outdoors part is more terrifying imo. rip asi

wh

I HAVE TO GO BACK OUTSIDE AND NOT TO GO HOME??

WHY

[uzumaki-rebellion]

Black Boys Bloom Thorns First: Volume 2, Chapter 15

"I am known to stay awake (A beautiful world I'm trying to find) A beautiful world I'm trying to find (A beautiful world, I'm trying to find) I've been in search of myself (A beautiful world) a beautiful world It's just too hard for me to find (Dreams, dreams) Said it's just too hard for me to find (Dreams, dreams) I am in the search of something new (A beautiful world I'm trying to find) Searchin' me, Searching inside of you And that's fo' real

What if it were no niggas Only master teachers? I stay woke (Dreams dreams)…"

Erykah Badu—"Master Teacher"

N'Jobu thought he was alone crouched low on the roof of an abandoned seedy building. The optic lenses in his night vision spy glasses easily picked out heat signatures below him. Two bodies were hidden in darkness but easily detected by him. Who else was on to the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents he was after this far from the city?

The agents he was looking for were a no show thus far. He was taking a chance being there because he wasn't sure if this was the exact location he wanted after he was able to decipher a few cryptic communications between the people he was after and their handlers. He decided to find out who his unwanted visitors were.

He slipped down from the roof and made his way around to where the two targets hid. He pulled two guns from two hidden holsters on his body and crept closer until he was behind them. Adjusting his night vision to clear vision, he was surprised to see that the extra intruders bum rushing his show were the two twins he followed years ago. For them to be where he was could not be a random coincidence. He knew they would be strapped, so he activated a preemptive vibranium shield around himself from his kimoyo beads just in case.

"Hey," he whispered.

When they spun around to look at him, he trained his gun on both their foreheads. They both raised their hands.

"Don't even try for your weapons," he said.

One of the twins recognized him.

"You're that guy…from the club…long time ago," she said.

They were both still rocking short 'fros, but their hair color was natural this time around. The only difference between them was that the one who spoke had longer hair.

"I remember you too. What's your deal? Why are you two here?"

One twin looked at the other.

"Why are you here?" the longer-haired twin asked.

"The man with the steel in his hand gets his questions answered first," he said.

"We're looking for someone," the shorter-haired twin said.

"Don't tell him anything—"

"What difference does it make? Maybe he can help us—"

A light flashed over their heads. A car.

"Shit," N'Jobu said, "come on, we're going up to the roof. Move your asses," he hissed waving his guns directing them to move in front of him.

They all jogged discreetly to the building he came from and hauled ass up the stairs five stories and onto the roof.

"Get down," he said.

"We need to see if these are the people we're looking for," Long Hair said.

The three of them peered over the side and watched a security guard step from the car and check some locks on the building across from them. He left in a matter of minutes. N'Jobu eyed the women again.

"Who are you looking for?" He asked.

"Our brother," Short Hair said reaching into her pocket. N'Jobu aimed his gun for her head again.

"It's just a cell phone," she said pulling out the phone and swiping the face. She held up the phone to him. It was a picture of a little boy. He recognized the face from eight years ago. The child that used to be in Califia's class. She swiped another picture of their whole family in happier times.

"Terrell Greenley," he said.

"You know him?!" The Long-Haired twin said leaning forward. N'Jobu put away his guns. He knew they wouldn't do anything to him once he spoke their brother's name.

"My wife was his teacher."

The twins looked confused and hopeful at the same time.

"He was taken away from your home and placed in a facility in Los Angeles."

N'Jobu watched the short-haired twin cover her mouth and break down in tears. The longer haired sister breathed deeply.

"Are they still alive?"

"I believe they are."

The one twin tried to comfort the other and N'Jobu could feel their pain envelop him.

"We were in school when they took our family. Arizona State University. We didn't hear from our parents for a long time, so we caught a bus home and they were gone. Everything was just as they left it. Furniture, clothes…food. But they were gone and no one could give us answers. Because we were in college we were left on our own. We have been looking for our family ever since. The only clue we had was the white woman who showed up at our apartment before they were taken. That bitch I followed into the club on that night you were there. I was going to run them out for my sister to snatch up. But they had switched cars on us and got away."

"Tell us where they are keeping them," the Short-Haired twin said.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Kat. That's Randi."

"JoJo,' he said.

There was no sense in lying to them about who he was. If they were smart enough to detect and track S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, they were sharp enough to figure out who his fake self was.

"I don't know if they are still there. Eight years is a long time—"

"You are the first real clue we've had in a long time. Even if it's a dead-end, we want to find out for ourselves. Help us and we can help you out. You need weapons? We got that on lock. Need us to hack into some shit? We handle it."

He stared at the two of them. What a turn of life this was for them. College students turned spymasters and gun runners. He knew his job. Observe. Collect information. Do not interfere. The twins were attuned to his every facial expression. What could it hurt to tell them where the Los Angeles facility was? He wasn't going down there himself. All he needed to do was find the agents he was after and find out who their superiors were on the chain of command so he could report it back to Wakanda.

The sound of another car distracted them again.

The three of them peered over the side of the roof. Sleek silver caddy SUV with government decals. The agents they were all waiting for stepped out along with a third agent. Bingo. N'Jobu's glasses took pictures and sent the images to his computer at the apartment to start facial recognition. He scanned the plates on the vehicle. The agents walked inside the building across from them. His work here was done. He had already installed recording devices inside the other building. He could listen in on their conversations later in his safe house.

"Give me your phone," he said to Kat.

He found a notepad function and typed in the address of the Los Angeles facility.

"I don't know if your family is still there, but good luck. It's a fortress and heavily guarded," he told them wiping down the cell with his shirt.

"Thank you," Randi said. Her face was sweet-looking. It was hard to believe she was the same woman who jammed a gun in his side and was ready to take him out. What would they be doing if they didn't have to find their stolen family?

"Guess you won't need to follow ole girl anymore," he quipped.

"I'm going to kill her," Kat said. Randi gave her sister a glaring look. N'Jobu was shocked by the statement.

"Kat…" Randi said turning to face her twin.

"That bitch has got to pay. She was the one who found our family. She was the one who made them disappear. I don't give a fuck who she works for. Our family may be dead. But I will have the satisfaction of taking the last breath away from her. We don't need her now. He told us what we wanted to get from her. Her life is over."

Kat stormed away from Randi and headed toward the door that led back down into the building. Randi hot-tailed it after her. N'Jobu followed behind. He wasn't about to be caught at a murder scene.

Califia watched Erik try to handle two machetes in his hand.

She held her breath as he moved in time with her father inside the studio. The blades looked menacing and too big in her son's hands. She wanted him to practice with the sticks but her father insisted that he had to learn the way she did if he was going to be good. And sometimes one was injured when practicing martial arts. Her heart kept jumping as she watched Dante choreograph Erik's steps. She saw Erik's arms quiver as he tried his best to hold the weight in his hands. When he dropped a blade, she saw his whole demeanor change. He was angry with himself.

"It's okay, Erik. We all have to learn. We all drop the blades," Dante said.

Erik leaned down and picked up the machete again and when Dante hit it with his own, Erik dropped it again. In his frustration he threw down both blades and stomped away from Dante.

"JaJa!" she called out. Erik stopped, his back turned to her.

"Is that how you treat Grandpop?" she said walking around him.

Erik's chest was rising and falling rapidly and his lips were twisted up. His eyes were filled with anger.

"It's called practice, and it's called practice for a reason. You can't expect to be perfect at something right away. Those blades are heavy. You'll get stronger."

She could see his breathing calming down, but his face was still blazing with heat at his failure to hold onto the machetes. Califia glanced at her father and then she took a quick look at some of the other students in the class who were watching. Older teenagers.

"Show your mestre his due respect and then come with me," she said walking away from him and grabbing a light sweater to cover her t-shirt. She waited by the front door as Erik turned around and bowed to his grandfather. He then picked up the blades he had thrown on the floor and handed them to the next student, a sixteen-year-old who Califia thought was one of the best in the class.

She held the front door open for Erik and he walked out in front of her.

Once they were outside, they walked together side by side. She was going to take him to the corner market and get him some chips and an iced tea.

"If you want to be in Grandpop's class you have to control your anger when you mess up. I used to get mad all the time and you know what happened to me?"

He shook his head as he looked up at her.

"He kicked me out of the class."

"For real?"

"For real. I wasn't allowed to come back for a long time. You have to channel your anger sometimes. Make it work for you in a positive way so that it doesn't mess you up. Do you want Grandpop to kick you out of the class?"

"No."

"Then figure out how to use your anger, Baby. Anger can be a gift. I learned that lesson. When I was allowed to come back, I used my anger, my frustrations, all of that to get better at my skills."

He nodded and she rubbed the top of his curls.

"The machetes are so heavy," he said.

"I know, I remember struggling with them."

"Why can't we just have kid-sized machetes?"

"What, you want to fight with 2 steak knives?"

Erik giggled.

"No."

Closing in on the market, Califia could already see trouble ahead, the usual loiterers who hung around the front. The typical young thugnificents who had nothing better to do than hang around at night a pester people. It was tiresome.

"Hey, Miz Lay-dee!"

One particular annoyance called out to her with a sing-song voice and she rolled her eyes as they walked past him into the store.

"Roll them eyes if you want to but I still see you, Ma."

She saw Erik cut his eyes at the man.

"Ignore him, JaJa," Califia said.

She allowed Erik to roam around the store to get what he wanted. She picked up some rolling papers and a bag of Cheetos for herself. Not exactly healthy snacking, but she wanted something salty. She checked her phone and saw that N'Jobu was on his way home. She texted him that they were at the studio. He hit her back up and said he would pick them up and take them out for dinner.

"Can I have a coke?" Erik said.

"No. Ice tea is even cutting it close. You are in training."

"So are you," he said peeping her bag of Cheetos and rolling papers.

"Don't get smart," she said thumping his cheek playfully.

She paid for their snacks and was putting her card away when the loud mouth from outside walked in.

"'Sup, Ma? You and shorty doin' alright tonight?"

"We're fine," she said swiping her eyes at him.

"I can see you're fine," he said.

"C'mon, Erik, let's go," she said with some urgency in her voice. She didn't like the way this dude was coming at her, and she didn't want to make a scene in front of her son. The man had to be drunk or high, and there was no telling if he had a piece on him. Sometimes all it took was one tiny thing to set a man off before he became dangerous. It would be different if she were by herself. But with her son next to her, she wasn't about to pop off. She waited for Erik to walk in front of her so she could block him from the annoying man, but the guy reached out and slapped her ass. Hard.

"Ooh, you thick girl, I like that, yes indeed," he said, a slimy grin spreading on his lips.

"Don't you touch my mother!" Erik yelled.

Before she could reach out for him and pull him back, her child was up in the air, scaling the man's body and wrapping his legs around the shocked man's neck. Fucking. Him. Up.

"Oh, shit, Erik!" She yelled.

Erik had his can of ice tea in his hand and was smashing it repeatedly against the man's face. The man spun around knocking into a display of potato chip snacks. Erik dropped down and swept his right leg in a circle, knocking the harasser onto the floor.

"Okay, baby, come on, let's go!" She hollered reaching for Erik's arm.

"The fuck's going on?!"

One of the other guys from outside came in to check on his friend. Califia pushed him back.

"Bitch!" he screamed. Califia side-stepped him. "Erik, let's go!"

She watched Erik turn back around and stomp on the first man's side with his foot. The second man reached down and snatched Erik by his shirt hauling him up in the air.

"Nigga, let go of my son!" she yelled.

Califia struck the man in the neck with her hands, then shoved his head forward with the open heel of her hand. She reached for Erik and an elbow smashed into her mouth.

"Mom!" Erik cried out.

"I'm okay!" She yelled feeling blood dribble down her chin from the cut in her lip. The shit stung like a muthafucka.

Erik twisted around in the man's hand and bit him. The man dropped Erik waving his hand around while cursing up a storm. Erik ran to her and stood in front of her, blocking the two men from touching her again. She saw his hands draw up and his fingers curl into an ulwa stance. His father's way.

Califia heard her cell phone chime. She knew whose ringtone it was. She pulled it out of her pocket and saw N'Jobu's avatar. She swiped the phone.

"Where are you?" she heard N'Jobu ask.

"Baba, some man hit Mom at the store!" Erik yelled at her phone.

James was laughing at some corny joke Dante was telling him when N'Jobu pulled out his cell. Califia and Erik had only gone up the street according to Dante.

"You want to come to dinner with us?" N'Jobu asked Dante.

"No, you young folks go have fun. I'm beat. I need Cali to be teaching these classes now. These kids wear me out too fast. James, you should take a class with us."

James shrugged.

"I'm not much of a fighter, Mr. Stevens. I've seen Cali too. I don't know if I can keep up."

"Erik is the one to watch. The boy is fast. You should have seen him earlier, Dayclean. He was pissed when he couldn't hold onto the machetes. Threw them on the floor and had a fit."

"He threw the weapons down in class?" N'Jobu asked feeling disappointed with his son's behavior.

"Cali had a little talk with him. That's why she took him for a walk."

N'Jobu dialed Califia's number.

"Where are you?"

He was not prepared to hear his son yelling for him.

"What's the matter?" James asked when N'Jobu shoved his cell in his back pocket.

"Come on," N'Jobu said and James followed him out of the studio.

He felt heat rising in his face and his jaw grew taut. He could see the store ahead of him and soon his feet were moving faster. He could hear James running behind him.

When he shoved open the corner market's glass doors, he could see his son patting Califia's back. She had a piece of ice wrapped in a napkin against her lip and the store clerk was fixing up an overturned display.

"What happened?" he said touching Califia's face. He pulled back her hand to look at her lip. It was split pretty bad. Would probably need stitches. Her eyes were watery from the pain.

"We're okay," she said.

Erik tugged on his arm.

"This guy was talking rude to Mom, and he hit her on her butt. He said she was thick and then I jumped him… and then his friend came in and grabbed me…. and mom whacked him and then he elbowed her in the face!"

N'Jobu listened to every word and all he saw was red.

"Where are these dudes?" he asked.

James moved around the store looking for the men.

"They ran outside when the store guy threatened to call the police," Erik said.

No need for the police.

"Wait here," he said to Califia.

He stormed outside with James at his heels.

"They went around there, Baba!" Erik yelled following them.

"Go back and be with your mother."

"But you don't know what they look like, Baba."

He didn't.

"Erik, come back here!" Califia said.

"Go back inside the store!" N'Jobu bellowed.

"Just forget those grimy niggas," Califia yelled back.

He walked further down the street with Erik and James.

"There they go!" Erik said pointing across the street.

"Which ones?" he asked.

There were five guys crowded near an old modified Impala.

"The big one with the blue shirt and chain, and the one with the white sweatshirt. Blue shirt smacked mom's butt. White sweatshirt grabbed me and hit her," Erik said.

"Go back to your mom."

"Baba—"

"I said go to your mom. James take him back for me," N'Jobu said crossing the street.

He approached the men. They sized him up. Before anyone could ask what the fuck he wanted, he had one hand around the throat of white sweatshirt and a gun on blue shirt. The other three men jumped back.

"When my woman and my son go to the store, they shouldn't be bothered. Just minding their own damn business and you lil bitches want to touch her and then hit her?"

His hand squeezed white sweatshirt's neck tighter, the man's eyes bulged. N'Jobu took his gun and beat the man several times in the face with it before kicking him onto the sidewalk.

"Shit man-"

"What the fuck—"

"—unnecessary—"

N'Jobu stuck his gun in the face of blue shirt ignoring the other men's comments.

"See, you just should've let them be. But you had to touch her ass. What hand did you touch her with?"

Blue shirt's eyes were petrified, but he lifted up his right hand. N'Jobu grabbed it, and with one swift yank and twist down onto his uplifted thigh, he broke the man's arm. Blue shirt screamed to wake the dead.

"Touch them again and see where you all end up," he said.

The other men stood back.

"Get the fuck up outta here and don't hang 'round here no more. You won't see me coming next time. I promise."

The untouched men gathered up their wounded friends and piled them into the old Chevy. They drove off fast. Shoving his gun into the back of his waistband, N'Jobu turned to face the other side of the street. He saw Erik standing with James watching him.

"I told you to take him back to his mother!"

James shrugged, "You might've needed my help. I'm not going to leave you hanging, bruh."

N'Jobu looked down at Erik. His son's eyes were shining and he was quiet.

Shit.

He saw the gun.

"Don't tell your mother you saw your Dad with a gun out, young buck," James said looking at Erik.

Erik nodded.

"Let's get back to your mom," N'Jobu said rubbing Erik's head.

Califia stood inside the store waiting for them. She saw blood on his shirt.

"Are you hurt?" she asked.

"Nah. I'm good. Won't be bothered by those clowns anymore," he said reaching for her hand. He grimaced when he saw her lip again.

"You need stitches, girl."

"Shit," she said.

"Come on, we'll go to the emergency clinic."

They all walked back to the studio.

"What did you do to those guys?" she asked. Her voice sounded hesitant. Like she wanted to know and not know at the same time.

He didn't answer her. She glanced over at Erik and James.

"James?" she said.

"JoJo just took care of business, that's all."

She didn't ask Erik anything.

Four stitches closed her wound.

N'Jobu watched Califia sleep. He still felt rage inside his chest. Seeing her lip wounded like that kept him wide awake. She had described the way Erik just went ballistic in the store when the man touched her. He was proud of his son for defending his mother. He just worried that Erik would get the wrong idea about fighting, especially when N'Jobu pulled out a gun to beat a man with it.

He could've just used his hands, but he really wanted to inflict a huge amount of pain without injuring his own hand. Califia had been trying to persuade Erik to channel his anger in productive ways, and here he was using his anger to fuck up two men. In a way, it was productive. He was quite sure those men wouldn't be hanging around the store anytime soon, especially with the hurting he put on the two egregious characters.

He would have to have a private talk with Erik. Explain to him his violent act. He was enraged. He could've handled it another way. But the truth was he didn't want to handle it a different way. He wanted to fuck the men up for bringing ill will to his family. Molesting his woman, and breaking skin on her face…they were lucky he didn't kill them. Touching and injuring what belonged to him. He should've broken both arms and the other guy's elbow.

Califia shifted in her sleep, her body facing in toward him.

He reached out and stroked her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open.

"Hey," she whispered.

"Hey. Still hurt?"

"Not so bad now. Painkiller kicked in."

Her eyes studied his face.

"Let it go, babe. It's over," she said.

He closed his eyes for a moment. This would sit with him for a while.

"How bad did you go off?"

His eyes opened back on her face.

"I did some damage."

"Did Erik see it?"

"Yes."

She sighed and turned onto her back.

"I wanted to mess those dudes up myself…but Erik was there…"

"I know. You didn't want to put him in harm's way."

"I get so tired of seeing men like that just being out there. The harassment and catcalling…the unsolicited conversations. Shit gets old. Erik has to see all that. He'll think it's normal to talk to women like that—"

"He didn't react as if it were normal."

"But I'm his mother. A relative. People see it happen so much that they become numb to it, especially if it's someone not connected to them. What if he grows up and thinks that shit is okay, just hanging out and acting that way—"

"My son would never do that."

"This place changes people."

"Not Erik."

"I hope you're right."

He leaned over and kissed her cheek and her fingers went up and touched his lips.

"They were lucky I wasn't there when it went down," he said kissing her fingers.

"I know," she said.

"I'm the only one who can touch you."

His hand caressed her neck then gently rubbed her shoulder before falling on her breast.

"Just me," he said squeezing her softness.

"You might have a permanent scar," he said looking at her lips again and touching her face. Tension filled him once more and she stroked his cheek.

"Don't think about it anymore, okay?"

She moved his hand back to her breast.

He thumbed her nipple then traced a finger onto her belly, raising up her t-shirt. His finger lingered on her abdomen then slipped down to her panties. He pulled them off and she widened her legs pushing the bedcovers down for him. He shifted his weight and his eyes fell to look at her between her legs. He dragged two fingers up and down her center until glistening juices began to ooze out onto her folds. He pulled her inner lips open to stare at her pink inside.

"Baby," he groaned plunging two fingers inside of her. Her pussy made squelching sounds and he groaned even harder.

"Look at my pussy…getting all juicy," he whispered moving his digits in and out of her. Her eyes never wavered from his. Her lips were pressed together, and he still felt mad about her injury staring at it until her bottom lip dropped down and she gasped out his name. He kept working his fingers inside of her drawing out more wetness. He felt so hard. He was sleeping naked and his cock jutted out.

Her deep sighs spurned him on and he added another finger and hit deeper against her walls.

"My spot," she hissed closing her eyes.

"I got you, girl. I got you," he said.

They heard the toilet flush from the bathroom. Erik was up.

Califia whimpered trying to keep her passion quiet. N'Jobu kept his fingers tapping her spot. Her back arched and he pulled his fingers out to play with her clit.

"Jobu," she gasped opening her legs wider.

His thumb swirled around her clit ring, tugging on it when it suited him, and he watched her face play out intense expressions to his touches.

"Bay-bee…"

"Shit," he said pushing his fingers back into her slippery pink slit. His own wide slit was leaking clear fluid onto the sheet. He needed to stroke himself.

His fingers made a loud sound when he pulled them out from her pussy and he groaned some more as he gripped himself. His strokes were firm and she indulged him by slapping her vulva with teasing fingers. When she pulled her lips wide open for him once more, he knew he was done.

"Play with your pussy for me," he said. She gave slow seductive swirls to her clit and then she dipped her fingers inside herself. He could see her delicate brown fingers coated with so much of her natural lubricant. It was pooling in slick drizzles all down her ass cheeks.

"Open up that pussy. Let Daddy see all that pretty pink," he said.

She pulled her labia open forcing her vagina to pulse. He could see it gaping open a bit more.

His hand tugged down forcefully on his dick, the wide head dripping copious amounts of pre-cum across his thumb and index finger.

"That's what they want," he choked out staring back at her pussy. Her clit was twitching and his face was pinched with desire.

"…Jobu…"

"They want this pretty pussy right here…right here…got that shit wide open for me…so wide open. You like doing this to me…don't you? They want Daddy's pussy…Daddy's pretty pussy…fuck!"

The build-up had gone beyond his ability to control. She had him. There was nothing he could do but let her lead him to the end. She owned him.

"…big dick…"

"…all yours girl…"

"…so hard Daddy…"

"…you did this…"

"…look at this pussy, Daddy…"

"…I see it…"

"…huhmmm…"

"…you did this to me…"

He rubbed his cock against her opening.

So. Much. Pink.

"Dammit…dammit…!" He yelled without meaning to, but his dick was already shooting out semen and it was drenching her pussy. All he could see between her legs was his cum and a small bit of her fingers holding her soaked labia open.

He jammed his fingers inside of her shocking her, causing her fingers to let go of her sticky swollen inner lips. He pushed his cum inside of her with his ring finger and index finger and his thumb pressed onto her clit.

"Cum on my hand, girl," he commanded.

She whimpered and he saw her tongue jab on her lip on accident and she hissed from the sting of her stitches.

"Cum on Daddy's hand," he said stroking her deeper. Her eyes squeezed shut and her legs shook.

"…Jobu…oh, Gawd…"

"There you go….there you go…keep cumming for me."

A sharp shriek escaped her lips and he was sure their son heard it but there was nothing they could do about it. He felt her insides squeeze on his fingers with tight pulses and then her legs fell back down on the bed. She was spent. And very satisfied.

Erik sat in the living room watching cartoons and eating a big bowl of frosted flakes. N'Jobu sat down next to him on the couch. He left Califia asleep upstairs sated from his caretaking throughout the night. She probably wouldn't wake until noon.

"Son."

Erik glanced over at him.

"I want to talk to you about yesterday. Last night."

"Am I in trouble?"

"No. No. I just want to make sure you understand some things. What I did to those men…I was very upset about what they did to you and your mother. They disrespected you and they were inappropriate. You were right to protect your mother…"

Erik's eyes were questioning.

"I didn't want you to see me hurt those men. I was angry, very angry—"

"Mom said anger was a gift. You have to use it the right way. Didn't you use it the right way, Baba? Protecting us from those bad men?"

"In a way—"

"I don't understand."

"I didn't have to be so rough with them. I didn't need to pull out a weapon. I could've just used my hands…or talked to them."

"Talking won't change them. Grandpop tried talking to them, Mr. Anderson tried talking to them before too. They not the talking kind, Baba. You were right to beat them up. Nana says an ass-whoopin' never hurt nobody when they need it."

N'Jobu stared at his son. He felt a bit flummoxed from the conversation. The violence didn't seem to bother Erik. This didn't feel right.

"There's a time and a place to get physical. But you have to maintain control so you don't cause more problems or cause unnecessary pain."

Erik ate from his cereal bowl and for a few minutes, they both watched a spastic cartoon on the TV.

"Why do you need a gun, Baba?"

"The same reason your Grandpop and Nana have a gun at their house. Protection."

"But you're strong. You can beat up two people at the same time."

"Having a gun can help scare people so you don't have to fight them."

"Have you ever shot your gun?"

"No."

"Does Mom know that you have a gun?"

"Yes."

Erik was quiet again.

N'Jobu heard Califia moving around upstairs.

"I don't want you to think that using force is always the first and best way to go. It should be the last thing you need to use when confronting problems. Does this make sense to you?"

Erik nodded.

He hoped he was getting through to him. He didn't want Erik going off the way he did in the store all the time. He could really harm someone. He was like a baby rattlesnake. Full of strong venom that could be used all at once and a true danger. He would need to be taught to control his venom, control his abilities like an adult rattlesnake learns over time. If Erik could knock a grown man on his ass at eight years of age, there was no telling what he could do when he became a man. And if he was mixing capoeira with ulwa already….N'Jobu would have to guide his son well to contain that power. He and Califia had a lot of work to do to shape him.

"Hey you two," Califia said watching them. Her hair was wrapped up in a scarf and her lip looked swollen still.

"We were talking about last night," N'Jobu said.

"All good?" she asked.

"Yes," he said giving her a look that they would talk later in private.

"You feel okay, Mom?"

"Yeah, baby. This will heal fast."

Erik finished off his bowl of cereal and took it into the kitchen.

"How is he?" she asked.

"We will have to watch him. I'm not sure that he really understands the ramifications. It's my fault. I didn't handle things well."

"You did what you had to."

"I reacted, Califia."

"It happens."

She dismissed the conversation and sat next to him on the couch. Wrapping her arms around his waist she laid against him.

"We aren't perfect all the time, N'Jobu. As parents, we do the best we can. Erik knows this," she said.

N'Jobu pondered her words then kissed her cheek.

Word got around about what N'Jobu had done.

When Califia came into the shop the men ignored her or tried their best not to appear like they were leering. Even Nate watched himself. Grown men looked at Erik differently. His small frame and easy-going nature was viewed in a new light.

No one retaliated or came up to N'Jobu regarding what he did to the two men. He kept his eyes and ears open, but the streets let it be known loud and clear: don't fuck with the Stevens family. The corner market had few loiters since then and N'Jobu was quite sure he wouldn't hear from any of those men he saw that night.

James kept his ears open too, and from what he reported to N'Jobu, most people were pleased that the corner men were dealt with in a severe way. No one else had ever got through to them about their behavior without being threatened or laughed at.

N'Jobu didn't want people to fear him, but if it kept his family safe, then he would accept the reputation for handing out beat downs as warranted.

Califia and Erik continued their training in preparation for Sao Paulo. They were face chatting with Negra Li and Soliel every week, their voices excited when speaking in Portuguese. Erik was pretty fluent and it was nice to hear his son master other languages. His Spanish was good, and the few Wakandan phrases he knew had a passable accent.

A month before they left for Brazil, N'Jobu gave Erik a Vibram tattoo inside his lower lip.

He cooked Erik and Califia a rich lunch of chicken stew and rice then made Erik sit in their living room on a chair. He numbed Erik's gums and used a special Wakandan tattoo needle to inject the glowing ice blue ink into the skin. Califia watched, her eyes fascinated by the color and symbols placed on Erik. N'Jobu wiped away blood and saliva, and when he was done, he showed Erik what it looked like with a hand mirror.

"When we go back, they will know you are one of us," N'Jobu said, "this is a key for your passage."

"What about Mom? Can she get a tattoo?"

N'Jobu glanced at Califia. She knew that she would not be marked. She wasn't Wakandan.

"That mark is just for you and your father," she said.

Erik didn't question why that was so, and N'Jobu was relieved that he didn't have to let his son know the reasons why. It would hurt Califia's feelings, and he didn't want his son to feel bad for getting something she could not.

"Don't ever show anyone that marking. That is just for Wakanda."

"Okay," Erik said admiring the glow in the hand mirror as he pulled down on his lip, "Can I see yours, Baba?"

N'Jobu bent down and pulled down on his bottom lip. Erik stared at his mouth and smiled, pleased that they matched.

Califia and Erik started playing a video game together and he sat back and watched them. More and more he began to contemplate going back home and taking them. It was time. His son was old enough to understand some things about his country. The isolation. The culture. The technology. The secrecy. His royal heritage. Maybe his next trip for the annual check-in would be the time to come clean. Right after their trip back from Brazil. Oakland was changing-a bit rougher, a bit unforgiving, a bit colder. His son deserved safety and a place that could nurture his brilliant mind the right way. Califia deserved to be pampered and in a place that respected women. He had a lot to think about.

Erik's eyes were huge when they flew into Sao Paulo. He had been there a few times when he was younger, but this trip was different because he was older and more aware of what went on around him. Califia had him wearing baby twists, something he wanted for the baptisado, and when they arrived at Negra Li's home, Erik blended in with Soliel and Aunjanue's daughter Marisol who was a year younger than Erik. He ran around the streets with Marisol speaking the language like a native, and when a group of kids that Marisol ran with joined them, no one could tell that Erik wasn't from there.

N'Jobu was happy to see Erik jump into friendships fast, his introverted nature disappearing the moment he was around Marisol and her little crew. The little girl's dark skin, cheekbones, and thick braids reminded him so much of his mother.

While the children played, the adults sat out on Lia's balcony talking political strategy, campaigning, and the upcoming baptisado. Califia was confident about receiving her final cord and fully embracing the title of mestre. Besouro was there in Sao Paulo, and N'Jobu knew he would really test his woman when she stepped into the roda.

N'Jobu stood looking down at the street where Erik ran around with the children. He held a glass of beer in his hand, and the aroma of Lia's cooking wafted out from the kitchen and tickled his nose. His family needed this trip together. They needed to be away from Oakland. The beginning of the year had begun with the death of a young Black man on the BART on New Years Day. Shot by BART security. After the corner market incident with Califia and his son, one of Erik's school friends' parents were murdered in a botched drug deal gone horribly wrong. Drive-bys were up too. The violence was getting out of hand. Some young punks even tried to rob Nate at the shop, but he was strapped and that didn't go off so well. Nate actually shot one of the robbers and had to file a police report. Luckily, his gun was registered.

"…taking threats seriously…"

N'Jobu's eyes broke away from watching his son below and fixed themselves on Soliel. Threats?

Lia sat on a plastic chair sipping on brown liquor. Her hair was piled on her head in a tight bun.

"We get threatened every time we stand up for ourselves and also when we do nothing. We have history on our side. We have more young people registered to vote than at any time in our local history. Change is coming. They will have to deal," Lia said.

Califia leaned against the metal pole of a clothesline smoking a joint, her one indulgence on the trip courtesy of Soliel. She took a long puff and let the smoke sit in her lungs. When she released, she coughed for a moment.

"Hard to stomach that your own neighborhood police force is actively against you," she said.

"They don't want accountability, especially coming from poor people," Lia said.

"They were able to defeat you last time because they had people convinced that law and order and draconian laws would save us here. The rich and conservative ate that shit up—"

"So did some of our people, Soliel," Lia said.

"Yes, it be our own people sometimes, but this year will be different. We have the youth on our side, and we have a lot of moderates siding with your platform. This is your year," Soliel said.

"City council and then maybe State Senator next?" Califia winked at Lia.

"Baby steps, Sis, baby steps," Lia said.

They heard the footsteps of Erik and Marisol running up the steep stairs, their laughter echoing as they ran.

"Shit, N'Jobu, you were supposed to let me know when they were on their way up!" Califia said stubbing out her joint in an ashtray and hiding it under the plastic table they would eat on.

"My bad," he said heading into the living room to greet the children.

"Uncle JoJo!" Marisol said reaching up to him. He picked her up and swung her as Erik grinned.

"What's that in your hand?" he asked his son.

Erik stuffed it in his mouth.

"Candy," Erik said chewing fast.

"Don't let your Mom see that," he said.

"One candy won't mess up his training Uncle JoJo," Marisol said. Her accent was so cute when she spoke English.

"Tell that to his mother," he said.

"Time to eat!" Lia called out.

Everyone piled outside to enjoy food and friends.

The crowded school auditorium broke into applause when Negra Li took to the podium to address her supporters. No one called her Lia, they loved saying Negra Li as if she were a Princess with a grand title.

N'Jobu's belly felt full and happy from her cooking, and he was impressed with the turn out so close to election time. Califia and Soliel sat next to him with the children. Aunjanue stood in the middle of the aisle running an LCD projector for Negra Li as she showed statistics to the audience on funding for public schools and public housing.

There was a Q & A afterward, and N'Jobu watched Erik quietly ask Califia questions. Negra Li was speaking Portuguese, and Erik caught most of her talk. He himself could not get but a few words and phrases. Califia did her best to translate for N'Jobu, but she soon got caught up in Negra Li's words and became quiet.

They were lucky that they didn't have to walk too far to get to the school because N'Jobu was tired. He wanted to curl up in bed with Califia and sleep for a long time.

Back at the apartment, Soliel played music and they sat around for a bit and talked until N'Jobu's eyes fell shut.

"Oh, he's out," Califia said. Although his eyes were closed, he could hear his son laughing at him.

"Okay you two, in bed, now!" Negra Li said.

He could hear Erik and Marisol complaining but he knew they would go into a side room where a blowup bed was set up to accommodate them. They would probably whisper together all night.

"C'mon, babe. Get up," Califia said grabbing his arm and pulling on him. He gathered himself up and said goodnight as Califia pushed him towards the back room they would share. Soliel and Aunjanue would join them in the morning for some sightseeing and visiting other families. They were grateful for a night together without Marisol.

He crawled under the covers of the bed and watched Califia strip down and put on sweats and a thicker t-shirt. He only took off his shirt and left his sweatpants and socks on. Once she slipped in next to him, he nuzzled his face into her breasts and held onto her tight.

"Exhausted?"

"Yes. My belly is comfortable, my body is warm, and we get to be alone for a moment," he whispered.

"The people here seem excited about Negra Li. She's predicted to be the winner by a landslide this time."

"She already has the poise of a polished leader."

"She is pretty badass."

"You really and truly admire her."

"She's my hero. You know that."

"You're my hero, girl."

He pushed up to get near her face and kissed her lips.

"Mom, Baba…"

N'Jobu turned to see Erik in the doorway. He thought he had closed the door all the way when they turned in.

"Hey, what's up," Califia said.

"Can I come in?" he asked watching N'Jobu release his hand from Califia's face.

Califia waved him over and he sat on the edge of the bed.

"Is it okay if I go see Besouro tomorrow instead of going sightseeing?"

"You don't want to be with Marisol when we go to the Bazaar?" Califia asked.

"Besouro is teaching a private class and I want to take it. Please?"

"You'll be able to take a session with him during the baptisado," N'Jobu said.

"But this one is different. I want extra practice before the baptisado."

"But Marisol will want you to be with her and you don't get to see her that often," Califia said.

"It's just one day, Mom. Please?"

N'Jobu felt his eyes growing heavy again. Califia looked at him and stroked his scalp.

"Let's see how things get organized in the morning. Your father is tired and you need sleep too."

Erik nodded and Califia leaned over and kissed his forehead.

"Night, JaJa."

"Night, Mom."

N'Jobu rubbed Erik's shoulder and watched him walk out of the room.

"Close the door," N'Jobu called out before resting his head back on Califia.

"Should we let him be with Besouro?"

"I don't see why not. We're here for some time. He wants to train with a master teacher. We should let him. Marisol will get over it," he said.

N'Jobu yawned. He felt weary but his body was fighting full sleep. The jet lag was screwing with him.

"How come you and Erik aren't tired like me?"

"We slept on the plane while you played that trivia game for hours."

"I want to sleep so bad, but nothing is winding down. Even when I close my eyes I'm still up."

"Smoke some weed."

"You know that doesn't agree with me."

"I don't know what to tell you."

N'Jobu rubbed his dick through his sweats.

"Why don't you suck my dick for me? I'm tense, I need help relaxing."

Califia gave him a smirk.

"Suck your dick? Just like that? No finessing or romantic overtures? Just 'suck my dick'?"

"Yes. Help your man get to sleep."

"How about you just lay there and eventually knock out?"

He grabbed her hand and pulled it down to his crotch.

"Help me out."

"These walls are too thin for that."

"I'll be quiet."

"No you won't."

"Just suck on the head for me then. Tongue my shit down, I won't even nut in your mouth."

"No."

"Come on, girl."

She pulled her hand back.

"Stop playing," she said.

"I'm not playing. I need you. Help me."

He rubbed himself and they both could see his dick plump up a bit in his sweats.

"…babe…"

"No…"

"Please…"

"No."

He curled up his lips and stopped rubbing himself.

"That's cold woman."

"Night."

She turned away from him and snuggled under the blankets.

"Wait until you want some. See what happens," he said spooning behind her and closing his eyes.

She only laughed at him.

Califia held Erik's hand as they walked into the large gymnasium. They both wore matching abadá pants and new form-fitting t-shirts. All white.

She felt Erik's hand tremble a bit. It was intimidating to step into a space that big. Especially with so many masters of the craft watching and judging. They had spent the earlier part of the day watching demonstrations and listening to older masters. The time had come to show what they could do.

"You'll be fine, JaJa," she said. He nodded. They both saw N'Jobu take a seat up in the bleachers with Negra Li, Soliel, and Marisol. N'Jobu waved at them.

"Come on, let's go to your section," she said.

Negra Li and Soleil's father Andres played the berimbau and he winked at Califia when he saw her. She waved to him and stood with Erik around the roda as people warmed up. The drumming and singing was boisterous. Erik began clapping and singing along visibly relaxing. She was worried he would pull out.

His private session with Besouro had him feeling confident before they came to the baptisado. Now she felt like Erik was struggling to find his bearings. His eyes lit up when he saw Besouro walk into the roda and start singing a call to come play. Califia started singing and clapping. Her eyes scanned the room and she felt a slight twinge of nervousness herself. So many masters in one place. Like Erik, she had ascended ranks pretty quickly, but to become a true mestre she needed confirmation from some people there who were not fond of her or her aggressive style of fighting. She would have to dig deep today and bring excellence. Oakland excellence.

Those under eighteen and up for new cords began to take to the floor and Califia stood back and continued clapping and singing, giving her son encouragement.

They watched several young girls and boys go into the circle and do their best. Many of them were not given their next cords. Califia was a bit surprised at the number of youngsters not allowed to move up and gain new ranks. Erik was aware of this too and she saw how tense his face was as he waited for his turn.

She glanced over into the stands and caught N'Jobu's eye. He had a solemn expression on his face.

Besouro knelt down on one knee in front of Erik. It was his time. Califia took in a deep breath. Erik went down on one knee and held out his fingers to touch Besouro's. At this moment Erik's beloved Uncle Axiel was no longer family or a friend. He was a mestre determining the level of skill a student had to move forward with a new cord. Axiel would not go easy on her son simply because he was part of an extended capoeira family that was tight over two continents. Axiel was simply The Beetle, Besouro. Erik had to show and prove.

Andres called out for Erik and Besouro to enter the circle. They both did the traditional small cartwheel and Besouro engaged Erik in basic moves that he should know to get to the next level. Erik did well and Besouro moved faster and upped the intensity of skill. He kicked Erik a few times to trip him up and to test his balance and recovery skills.

Califia felt her throat go dry. Besouro was really pushing her child. Andres kept the pace of the berimbau and drums even. Erik back flipped twice and came for Besouro's long legs with sliding moves she had practiced with him.

"There you go," she hissed under her breath as he clipped Besouro's foot causing the man to stumble. Andres snuck a glance her way and a big grin came over his face. Besouro came for Erik harder and the boy eased around him with such skill the crowd clapped for him. Erik rolled

into a handstand and spun on one hand before leaping with his hands aiming for Besouro's chest. The mestre deflected the assertive move and knocked Erik down. The boy jumped up but Besouro spun around him and struck Erik's calves knocking him down again. Califia felt her chest get hot. The move was too hard for a child—

Erik helicoptered his legs to spin and get back on his feet, where he swayed low and his hands went into an ulwa stance. His face had gone hard and serious. She saw his eyes had narrowed. He was angry. He looked just like N'Jobu.

"No," she gasped. He was going to switch up to ulwa and do something damaging that would disqualify him. He had the ulwa grappling stance, and she knew from experience fighting with N'Jobu that it hurt like hell when you didn't expect it. And Besouro wouldn't know what hit him.

"N'Jadaka!"

They both heard N'Jobu's voice booming over the drums.

Erik swiveled his neck. N'Jobu called out something in Wakandan and she saw Erik flinch and relax his hands.

"Channel that!" she called out to him and he began to jinga, his swaying smooth and calm and playful.

Besouro came for him again, but this time Erik was in the zone and matched his idol move for move. Califia saw a smile slip over Besouro's lips. Andres called for them to stop.

Besouro ran his hands over Erik's twists and hugged him. They bowed to one another and Besouro did the expected swipe of his legs that would knock Erik down to humble him. Erik took it well when he tumbled back on his butt. He laughed and then his eyes found hers. She placed a hand over her mouth and blew him a kiss. When she looked into Besouro's eyes, she knew her son had gained his new cord.

It shocked N'Jobu to see his son switch up his stance so fast.

It was one thing for Califia to describe it to him when his son did it at the corner market, but to see it first hand, and so swiftly, jolted him.

He called out to Erik and then told him in his language to "focus on the right way." He saw Califia call out something to him and then Erik went back into capoeira mode.

"What was he about to do? What was that?" Lia asked.

"He just lost focus. I had to remind him," he said.

When Andres presented Erik with his new cord, the boy turned to his mother and hugged her. He then faced the audience and held it up for N'Jobu to see before it was tied on him by Besouro.

There was a small break before the other initiates entered the circle, so N'Jobu was able to speak to Califia before she was up for her final cord. Erik sat next to Marisol bragging on his new level, and N'Jobu sat next to Califia.

"He almost lost it," Califia said peeking over at Erik.

"He just flowed into ulwa so naturally, it was like one art form."

"What did you yell to him?"

"I told him to focus."

"I told him to channel."

"He listened."

"Yeah, he did."

"He was very good."

"Besouro and Andres were impressed. Let's see if I get the same reaction."

"You got this."

"The way Besouro was fighting Erik, I may need to borrow some ulwa moves."

N'Jobu pulled her in toward him and kissed her.

"You have all the skills you need. I want to see you make him fall on his ass."

"Depends on if he goes in with me."

"He's going in. He can't wait. Look at him."

Besouro was speaking with Andres, his hands on his hips, and his legs wide apart. He saw Califia looking at him and he pointed at her and smiled. He gave a head nod to N'Jobu.

"He's still into you."

"That again?"

"Just an observation."

"He is into himself."

"Keep telling yourself that."

"I gotta go."

"Bring your cord back, Mom!" Erik said.

They fist bumped and Califia climbed down the bleachers.

The room seemed to get a little tenser once the older initiates gathered into the roda. There were many cell phones held up to record the event. A few masters that hadn't been out for years were present. Most of them men. There were very few women mestres. For Califia to come this far was an inspiration to many. N'Jobu glanced over at Marisol who had cotton candy in her hand and shared it with Erik. She was a beginner and had the opportunity to play with Califia at the earlier demonstrations. Soleil and Aunjanue wanted her to excel in the art. Watching Califia, they hoped Marisol would consider more training in the future.

N'Jobu and Erik watched Califia kneel down and clap her hands. She didn't sing or make eye contact with them. She appeared to go into a meditative state, preparing her mind and body. There were several mestres surrounding the circle this time.

They watched several people go into the circle. Some received cords, some did not.

"When will they let it be Mom's turn?" Erik whispered. He was pressed up against N'Jobu, probably feeling anxious for his mother to do well.

"Looks like they will make her go last," Lia said patting Erik's knee.

Califia stood up suddenly and stepped away from the circle shaking her hands above her head and pacing.

"She's nervous," Soliel said.

"Yes," Lia said putting her hands on her knees and shifting forward.

Erik stared at N'Jobu.

"Baba…"

"Don't worry. She has the jitters. See…she's calming herself down."

They watched Califia roll her neck and return to the circle. She knelt down and kept her eyes focused on the berimbau. Andres made a few hard taps on the berimbau to change the pace of the drums and an older bald mestre stepped forward and knelt before Califia. His dark nutmeg skin was moist from sweating and his eyes were focused on her hands. Califia raised her eyes up and did a slight nod to the man and then they touched fingers.

Cartwheeling in, Califia wasted no time outpacing the mestre. Her moves were fluid and her usual acrobatic style dominated the floor. She wasn't very aggressive, probably adjusting herself to not make the older master look bad. Another mestre with a head full of snow-colored locs slid in and replaced the bald mestre. The new mestre was fast and forced Calfia to use more hand techniques to keep up with him.

N'Jobu felt comfortable watching his woman do her thing well, but his eyes kept creeping over to Axiel who was hyper-focused on Califia. The Beetle clapped his hands and sang, but N'Jobu could tell he was itching to jump in.

Andres said something in Portuguese to an elder drummer who in turn called over a man to take over Andres' berimbau playing.

"Hey—" Soliel said.

Lia started laughing.

"You know he had to do this!" Lia cackled.

Andres spun into the circle and it was the first time since she entered the roda that N'Jobu saw Califia smile. Her own father had been too ill to fly over to Brazil with them, so Andres was stepping in to test his Goddaughter.

"Baba, Mom is doing so good!" Erik squealed standing up to clap and cheer his mother on.

At that moment, Besouro cartwheeled in and joined Andres for a bit of double teaming.

"Besouro!" Eric yelled.

Califia must've felt cornered because she immediately asserted her dominance. This wasn't her Godfather or a mentor/idol…this was war and she let them have every kick and hand jab she could muster. She slid onto her legs and did a Chinese split that pivoted into a handstand that had her legs twirling to smack Andres and Besouro. Andres tapped out to watch as another mestre took his place to push Califia to the edge. Besouro tried his best to tame her, but she had already forced the other mestre to leave the roda, and she was using her legs to tangle up The Beetle until he fell and she jumped on top of him winding her legs around his. His smile broke as he realized she had him pinned. Andres looked to the mestre with the white locs and the elder nodded.

"Aye!" Andres called and Califia unlocked her legs from Axiel's and jumped up screaming. N'Jobu and Erik jumped up and clapped for her. Axiel stuck out his foot and tripped Califia. She went down but flipped herself back up on her hands and spun around the circle letting her legs pose and twist. N'Jobu was amazed at her core strength as her arms supported her weight in the air. She did an excruciatingly slow front roll up and when she was back on her feet, her hands went to her face and she began to cry. The room applauded her and Andres hugged her tight. Besouro walked up to her and gave her a deep long hug that lifted her off of the ground. He waved over an official who had Califia's final belt. All of the mestre's present stood before her as Andres tied on her final belt. White for Grand Master.

Andres looked at the audience and yelled, "Mestre Martelo!"

N'Jobu looked at Erik.

"He called her Master Hammer."

"Hmmm. The Hammer. It fits her,' N'Jobu said. "Go congratulate her."

Erik beamed as he ran down the bleachers to be with his mother. N'Jobu watched Erik duck larger bodies as he made his way to Califia. Once her eyes saw Erik, she ran to him and picked him up. Her eyes fixed on N'Jobu's, and he blew her a kiss.

"Mestre!" he yelled to her and she placed her left hand over her heart as she held Erik and nodded her head to him. He felt tears sting his eyes as he watched his love get the accolades that she deserved in an art form she cherished. She had reached the zenith and the grand masters there acknowledged her ascension into their ranks.

N'Jobu walked down the bleacher steps and took his time getting to Califia. Soliel, Marisol, and Lia had already passed him up to hug and kiss Califia, but her eyes were on his as he approached her. She still held Erik, and when he stood in front of her, he cradled her head with his hands.

"You were magnificent," he said.

Her eyes were glistening and when she saw his wet eyes, she broke down and he threw his arms around her and Erik.

"Your father is so proud. I texted him. And I'm sure he's already looking at footage online,' he said. She nodded, her eyes red, and her lips curled up into a broad smile.

He bent down and whispered in her ear. "Mestre, I love you."

She wrapped her free arm around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. From the corner of his eye he saw Besouro watching them. N'Jobu made sure to slip Califia some slow tongue action, their lips lined up perfectly so he would see it.

"Ah, man, not this again!" Erik yelled.

N'Jobu didn't care. He had his woman and his child by his side and all was well.

What more could he wish for?

Chapter 16 HERE.