Drillmington: Light Ray

Boots crunched through the snow. It was twenty eight degrees Fahrenheit outside. With his lawyer, TSL ascended the steps and reached the door, kicked his boots against the door and took off his peacoat and flashed the ring that he was commissioned to wear.

“So becoming an informant can be a lucrative endeavor,” Noah Cohen said. He was five foot eleven inches and had jet black hair; his skin looked almost transluscent in the light.

“What we can do is set up a trust in your name that will be given to your descendents. With every suspect you help to nab, you’ll earn money based on your testimony. We can keep this secret. You can go to court and wear a hood and point out people.”

TSL felt his beard. “That’s what I had planned. I want to take down the South Bridge Bangers gang. If I can topple them, their foes will want to disband as well.”

“It’s not going to be that simple, unfortunately. You have your rap career and that’s going hot. Six figures for a kid from Delaware poised to make seven figures, that’s astonishing. But we must consider the fact that gangs are going to pop up no matter what. And I know how you feel about drug dealers.”

“Yes, if they’re shooting near family members and smart working citizens and children, they’ve got to be taken down to the ground. Everything that they stand for is for a free market until it comes to the killings. I will not stand by and watch families be torn asunder because of these numbskulls.”

“Your lyrics can’t reflect your thoughts on snitching.”

“Obviously.”

“I just thought I should remind you. You don’t have to be a hypocrite either. Whatever your drills are about, I’m not going to tell you what to say.”

“Thanks for that.”

“But back to informing…if you can tell on everyone you know is involved in actual crimes, the start of physical force, then you can get one hundred thousand dollars or more tax free.”

“That’s more than show money.”

“Exactly,” Cohen cleared his throat and raised the temperature with his voice.

“I’m so focused on my music, but I will not hesitate to put someone who shoots and kills a three-year-old behind prison walls.”

Cohen looked at his client with sincere admiration. It was tinged with sadness as he wished he had a younger brother like him or if his infant son grew up to be like TSL.

“So we’re in agreement. We’re ready to convey the message to everyone that….”

“Snitches get riches,” TSL responded.

It all felt so natural to be doing business this way. His lawyer specified in criminal justice. That’s what the drill rapper concerned himself with in this instance. He raised up and shook hands with Cohen.

“We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us to save this great city,” Cohen intoned.

“I agree. I’m snitching on everyone that dares to go against the code of killing innocent bystanders. In the process, we might even see the day where drugs are legalized and the gangs will be eliminated.”

“One day,” Cohen smiled and patted Top Shelf on the back. The rapper tapped an app for his personal driver.

Once he arrived in a Goulding Lightray, he found a sense of clarity amongst the confusion that came along with talking about gangs and deaths. But it wasn’t really confusing at all. It was enlightening for the young rapper and young lawyer to take to their respective cars in the frosty air. They both sped off into the night.