the wire: five ways
First Five!
visionshadows requested The Wire,
Five Ways Avon Could Have Saved Stringer
i.
"Don't worry about it, man," Avon said when Stringer got off the phone. "Ima have D take care of it."
"You crazy?" Stringer said. "D'Angelo can barely take care of his own ass. You're the one who shouldn't worry. I've got it."
"Naw," Avon said, shaking his head. "D got to learn how to step up."
"Yeah, well, this is a little too important for D to be learning on, so I'll just --"
"Naw," Avon said. He looked at Stringer hard. "D got to learn to step up, because D gonna have to step up. Ima need me a number two."
"You got one," Stringer said, making his voice as cold as Avon's eyes.
"Yeah, but D, he's blood, man. You know what they say, ain't nothin' thicker than that."
"You tellin' me we ain't blood, b?" Stringer said. "All this time in the game, and now you saying that counts for nothing?"
"You tell me," Avon said.
"I'll tell you, all right. I'll tell you we came up together, we built this thing together and now --"
"All right," Avon said sharply. "I forgot, you the one can always tell shit to anyone. You the brains, String. But now I'm gonna tell you. All this time in the game, I thought we was in the same game but you, you wanna be in a different game now. Like I said, String, you the brains, and D, he ain't nothin' next to you for that. But he got heart, String, and he got muscle, and most of all, he got blood -- my blood. I ain't have to watch my back with him."
"Like you do with me?" Stringer said before he could stop himself.
"You tell me," Avon said again, and this time Stringer didn't have anything to tell him.
"Yeah, you got a big new game you wanna play," Avon said. "But me, I'm staying in the game I always played. The game we both came up in. And coming up in it, String, you should know but maybe you forgot. There ain't but two ways out of this game -- a jail cell or a bodybag."
Stringer stood straight, because Avon could think what he wanted about Stringer's brains and his loyalty, but Stringer had always had heart.
"But you right about one thing. We came up together, and we built this thing together, and Ima give you something because of that. You take what you have and you walk out right now and you play that brand new game in some other city. For what we had, Ima give you that," Avon said. "Ima give you a way out."
ii.
"Goddamnit," Avon said. "There ain't but one way to get something done, and that's to do it the fuck yourself. Gimme that gun, man."
"We've gone to all this trouble to keep your name the fuck out of things," Stringer said. "Let them handle this."
"And fuck it up again? Hell no. Ima do this right and Ima do this once and I ain't gonna have to do it again."
Avon walked through the streets with his gun in his hand, walked right up to where the faggot was standing on the corner just like he didn't have a Barksdale death sentence hanging over his head. He didn't say anything, no words of triumph or revenge, just pressed the gun into Omar's neck and shot before Omar could even get his shotgun up. He squeezed another shot into Omar's body lying on the ground and then walked back up the street. "No one saw anything," Avon said. He didn't yell, didn't even look around him, but from the corner of his eye he saw people scurrying away from him and he knew they heard. He knew they'd heed.
"Great," Stringer said when Avon got back. "Now we got a murder beef to look out for."
"Ain't no one gonna say a word about what happened to that little faggot," Avon said. "They know if they do, same thing gonna happen to them." He smiled at Stringer. "Barksdale's back, baby. And from now on we gonna take care of business the Barksdale way."
iii.
"So what kind of cop are you, white boy? That pretty suit, you don't look like local."
"We're the feds," the cop said. "And you said you had something for us, Mr. Barksdale. I hope it was more than just fashion advice."
"Oh, yes indeed," Avon said. "Heard you might be interested in how drug money was finding its way into the pockets of some of this city's finest civil servants."
"Well, you heard right. If you can tell us something of substance, I'm prepared to offer you something I think you'll be very pleased with."
"Offer away, white boy," Avon said. "And then turn that tape recorder on, cause I'm about to start talking substance."
iv.
"I'll take care of the boy Marlo," Stringer said.
"Let me ask you something, String," Avon said. "You ever get tired?"
Stringer laughed. "All the damn time, man. Nature of the game."
"Yeah," Avon said. "I don't know, man, maybe I'm just tired of the game."
"You? You the original soldier, man. They made the game for you."
"Even soldiers get to go home sometime, man. Sooner or later every war be over. Maybe this war -- maybe it ain't mine anymore."
Stringer looked at him. "You sound like you're serious."
"Serious as death, man. And about as tired as that old grim reaper."
"So, what, you thinking of retiring?" Stringer said. "Where do old soldiers go when they retire?"
"I dunno, man. Out the country somewhere, maybe, sit on the porch and tell old war stories to pretty young girls."
"That don't sound much like Avon Barksdale to me."
"All right, maybe sit in the strip club and tell old war stories to pretty young strippers." Stringer laughed. "There got to be somewhere, though, man. I mean, what we get all this money for, we can't do what we want?"
"It's like I been telling you, b. Legitimate businessmen, that's the way to go. Get out the game while we're on top."
"Yeah, you been telling me," Avon said. "Maybe it's time I listened."
v.
BALTIMORE -- An 18-year-old man was shot and killed in West Baltimore yesterday. Police responded to reports of gunfire on the corner of Fifth and Walton, where they found Avon Barksdale dead on arrival. Witnesses describe suspects as African American males in their late teens or early twenties. Police believe that the shooting may have been drug-related, although an investigation is pending.
visionshadows requested The Wire,
Five Ways Avon Could Have Saved Stringer
i.
"Don't worry about it, man," Avon said when Stringer got off the phone. "Ima have D take care of it."
"You crazy?" Stringer said. "D'Angelo can barely take care of his own ass. You're the one who shouldn't worry. I've got it."
"Naw," Avon said, shaking his head. "D got to learn how to step up."
"Yeah, well, this is a little too important for D to be learning on, so I'll just --"
"Naw," Avon said. He looked at Stringer hard. "D got to learn to step up, because D gonna have to step up. Ima need me a number two."
"You got one," Stringer said, making his voice as cold as Avon's eyes.
"Yeah, but D, he's blood, man. You know what they say, ain't nothin' thicker than that."
"You tellin' me we ain't blood, b?" Stringer said. "All this time in the game, and now you saying that counts for nothing?"
"You tell me," Avon said.
"I'll tell you, all right. I'll tell you we came up together, we built this thing together and now --"
"All right," Avon said sharply. "I forgot, you the one can always tell shit to anyone. You the brains, String. But now I'm gonna tell you. All this time in the game, I thought we was in the same game but you, you wanna be in a different game now. Like I said, String, you the brains, and D, he ain't nothin' next to you for that. But he got heart, String, and he got muscle, and most of all, he got blood -- my blood. I ain't have to watch my back with him."
"Like you do with me?" Stringer said before he could stop himself.
"You tell me," Avon said again, and this time Stringer didn't have anything to tell him.
"Yeah, you got a big new game you wanna play," Avon said. "But me, I'm staying in the game I always played. The game we both came up in. And coming up in it, String, you should know but maybe you forgot. There ain't but two ways out of this game -- a jail cell or a bodybag."
Stringer stood straight, because Avon could think what he wanted about Stringer's brains and his loyalty, but Stringer had always had heart.
"But you right about one thing. We came up together, and we built this thing together, and Ima give you something because of that. You take what you have and you walk out right now and you play that brand new game in some other city. For what we had, Ima give you that," Avon said. "Ima give you a way out."
ii.
"Goddamnit," Avon said. "There ain't but one way to get something done, and that's to do it the fuck yourself. Gimme that gun, man."
"We've gone to all this trouble to keep your name the fuck out of things," Stringer said. "Let them handle this."
"And fuck it up again? Hell no. Ima do this right and Ima do this once and I ain't gonna have to do it again."
Avon walked through the streets with his gun in his hand, walked right up to where the faggot was standing on the corner just like he didn't have a Barksdale death sentence hanging over his head. He didn't say anything, no words of triumph or revenge, just pressed the gun into Omar's neck and shot before Omar could even get his shotgun up. He squeezed another shot into Omar's body lying on the ground and then walked back up the street. "No one saw anything," Avon said. He didn't yell, didn't even look around him, but from the corner of his eye he saw people scurrying away from him and he knew they heard. He knew they'd heed.
"Great," Stringer said when Avon got back. "Now we got a murder beef to look out for."
"Ain't no one gonna say a word about what happened to that little faggot," Avon said. "They know if they do, same thing gonna happen to them." He smiled at Stringer. "Barksdale's back, baby. And from now on we gonna take care of business the Barksdale way."
iii.
"So what kind of cop are you, white boy? That pretty suit, you don't look like local."
"We're the feds," the cop said. "And you said you had something for us, Mr. Barksdale. I hope it was more than just fashion advice."
"Oh, yes indeed," Avon said. "Heard you might be interested in how drug money was finding its way into the pockets of some of this city's finest civil servants."
"Well, you heard right. If you can tell us something of substance, I'm prepared to offer you something I think you'll be very pleased with."
"Offer away, white boy," Avon said. "And then turn that tape recorder on, cause I'm about to start talking substance."
iv.
"I'll take care of the boy Marlo," Stringer said.
"Let me ask you something, String," Avon said. "You ever get tired?"
Stringer laughed. "All the damn time, man. Nature of the game."
"Yeah," Avon said. "I don't know, man, maybe I'm just tired of the game."
"You? You the original soldier, man. They made the game for you."
"Even soldiers get to go home sometime, man. Sooner or later every war be over. Maybe this war -- maybe it ain't mine anymore."
Stringer looked at him. "You sound like you're serious."
"Serious as death, man. And about as tired as that old grim reaper."
"So, what, you thinking of retiring?" Stringer said. "Where do old soldiers go when they retire?"
"I dunno, man. Out the country somewhere, maybe, sit on the porch and tell old war stories to pretty young girls."
"That don't sound much like Avon Barksdale to me."
"All right, maybe sit in the strip club and tell old war stories to pretty young strippers." Stringer laughed. "There got to be somewhere, though, man. I mean, what we get all this money for, we can't do what we want?"
"It's like I been telling you, b. Legitimate businessmen, that's the way to go. Get out the game while we're on top."
"Yeah, you been telling me," Avon said. "Maybe it's time I listened."
v.
BALTIMORE -- An 18-year-old man was shot and killed in West Baltimore yesterday. Police responded to reports of gunfire on the corner of Fifth and Walton, where they found Avon Barksdale dead on arrival. Witnesses describe suspects as African American males in their late teens or early twenties. Police believe that the shooting may have been drug-related, although an investigation is pending.