New York City is the center of the universe and the city that never sleeps! The bright lights of Times Square and Broadway inspired big dreams! Crime and poverty usually shattered those big dreams! Everything goes down in New York that nothing surprised the average New Yorker. The citizens anticipate the unexpected! Any man that can make it big in this city can become a King!
It was a breezy evening in Manhattan. The energy inside the Cipriani for the fashion show was electrifying. The up-tempo rap music blared energetically! The rich and famous of New York and Hollywood attended the event. The range of celebrities was very well present in the front row: Russell Simmons, Sean "Diddy" Combs, Jay-Z, Beyoncé, Spike Lee, Halle Berry just to name a few, seemed impressed with the designs of the future. Many of them were witnessing a fashion show of dramatic proportion with a pantheon of exquisitely beautiful chocolate men and goddesses.
Shomari was not only one of the prominent models walking in the show, but the star. He was well over six feet tall and blessed with incredible looks. All of the women were crazy about him. The way Shomari worked the runway with his body movements; he was living art. His dark brown muscular physique made the women arouse and scream. Some can even be heard screaming, look at my future baby daddy! Look at my husband!
After the show, female admirers and designers praised Shomari backstage. Most of the male models were plainly envious of him, especially when hot R&B diva Rihanna decided to sit on his lap and kissed him on the cheek. Shomari took it upon himself to rub it into their faces and taunted them with his arrogance.
"The event was an extravaganza because of yours truly, ha-ha!" Shomari shouted.
"Oh, whatever, conceited," Asia said. "You always have to say something stupid out your mouth."
Asia was a tall woman with chocolate skin, jet-black hair, and deep brown eyes. She was attractive and one of the most spectacular young models on the scene. She and Shomari often clashed at social events. They crave for the spotlight and enjoy stealing the show at every event.
"Please baby, don't hate me because I'm a God." Shomari replied.
"Yeah, right," Asia sucked her teeth.
"You thought the show was about you, ha! It was about me." Shomari expressed. "If I'm not here, then the show doesn't have a star."
Harlem, U.S.A. The energy here whether it was negative or positive was something that separated this neighborhood from the rest in New York. Harlem was fast-paced, energetic, and soulful. Cruising' in the dark sheets of Harlem in his silver Ferrari F430 Spider with 2pac's All Eyez On Me CD blaring, Shomari was on his way to see a girlfriend. Shomari felt much like a king as he waved at people he knew from the streets. He loved the attention he received from everyone especially the haters standing on the street corners watching.
Shomari parked his car on the corner of 138th Street and Convent. He got out and sensed that someone was approaching him, but no one was in sight. Shomari stood for a few seconds looking both ways, and finally set the alarm on his car and began walking up the block. Two tall dark figures wearing ski masks emerged from the shadows.
At the last second, Shomari turned around and said, "Oh, shit!"
The figures fire shots at close range to Shomari. He felt the bullets igniting his body, but with the will to survive decided to fight for his life. One of the gunmen aimed his gun at Shomari's forehead and pulled the trigger. POW! Shomari's body fell to the cold, dirty concrete. The gunmen shot Shomari ten times, and ran off leaving him in a huge puddle of his dark blood. Blood poured down his brown smooth face. Shomari looked up at the silent dark sky and closed his eyes escaping into a deep sleep.
At Harlem Hospital, A 7-doctor team operated on Shomari. The ambience was intense inside the Trauma room as doctors moved around. They handed tools around to help resuscitate Shomari.
"We have to work fast; he lost a lot of blood." A tall dark-skinned surgeon announced.
"Hang in there, brother." A short light-skinned surgeon whispered.
"Wow, I haven't seen anybody in this condition in my five-year professional career before." A blonde-haired surgeon with glasses said.
"We're going to have to give him a blood transfusion to save his life." A medium-built Asian surgeon with bloody gloves expressed. "He lost so much blood!"
"Utilize the blood we drained from Peter Parker." The tall dark-skinned surgeon suggested. "I know he'll be delighted to know his blood help save a life."
About three hours later, Shomari was out of surgery. A blond-haired doctor wheeled him to a small room where he can continue to heal privately. While he sat up in the bed, many thoughts roamed in his head, How did I survive that attack? I must have another purpose in life, because I am still here. At the same time, the evil side of his soul slowly consumed him. Revenge, a nice word little word in Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary embedded in his brain. The shooters' faces were still fresh in his mind. Yes, they must pay for what they did. There was no way Shomari can get this out of his system unless he makes the shooters suffer.
The story of the shooting aired on CNN, major New York City newspapers and media. On the Daily News the headline read, "Supermodel Shomari Shot In Harlem." Many fans stood outside the hospital and prayed for Shomari's rapid recovery. Some young fans pulled out their cell phones and began calling or texting their friends. As the crowd at the hospital increased by the minute, police and security officers began blocking off entrances.
A few days later, Shomari discharged himself from the hospital. While riding in the yellow cab, he thought about his modeling career and his future. He was already a multimillionaire, seen much of the world, and dated some of the world's finest women. Still, there was something missing. Whatever it was, Shomari promised himself he was going to find it before it was too late. As he sat motionless, brooding solitary in deep thought, the time seemed to fly. Finally, the dark-skinned Middle Eastern cab driver snapped Shomari back into the world.
"Sir, we're here." The cab driver announced. "That's $20!"
"Oh, thanks." Shomari said, as he paid his fare.
Inside his condominium, Shomari headed straight to the bedroom and looked at himself in the mirror. He stripped out of his apparel and stood there. The sight of his physique aroused him. No gunshot wounds or contusions were on his well-toned body.
"I still look good." Shomari acknowledged. "I'm the hottest man in the tri-state area!"
Minutes later, his doorbell rang. Shomari opened the door, and it was one his girlfriend, Nina. She was a stunning 5'7 brown-haired woman. She had a beautiful youthful face, tanned complexion, and big, beautiful gray eyes.
"Thank God, you're fine!" Nina said softly, as she hugged Shomari.
"Now you know, can't anybody hold me down," Shomari exclaimed. "I'm a soldier."
After talking and hugging for a few more minutes, they began kissing. They were all hands, lips, and tongue. In Shomari's eyes was a look of total sexual desire and Nina saw it, but she was not sure if they should go any further.
"Do you think this is a good idea, baby?" Nina asked with a smile. "You just got out of the hospital."
"It's definitely a good idea, my goddess!" Shomari agreed.
Shomari lifted Nina up and whisked her to his bedroom. Over the next two hours, they made passionate love. Exhausted, they just lay in each other's arms.
When Nina left, Shomari was full of jubilation like any other man will be after having sex with a sexy woman. Dressed in his boxers, he leaped into the air. Shomari looked down to the floor expecting to fall, but he remained in the air. He began crawling fluidly and smoothly across the ceiling and walls like an oversize spider. Clinging by his fingertips and toes, Shomari smiled ear-to-ear at this uncanny experience. Even he had to admit, this was cool! No superstar athlete or any normal human being could do what he was demonstrating now. After a few more minutes of doing this, Shomari landed on his feet firmly.
"I can climb walls as easy as I can walk!" Shomari expressed. "This is crazy! No man can do this!"
Shomari put pressure on the palms of his hands and fluids discharged out of them. The spaghetti-like fluids hit the wall and stick. Looking at the bottom of his hands, Shomari did not see any openings on them. Shomari got a better look at the fluid. It looked like spider webs, but bigger than the average size –
Chapter 2: Scaling the heights
It was now June of 2008 in New York City. In Times Square, Shomari was changing into a black/red costume ready to do a stunt. The time was 11:22 in the morning and Shomari's heart raced. He looked up at the New York Times Building and grinned under the mask. After doing a quick prayer, he leaped about twenty feet to the air and began climbing the building. A small crowd on West 41st Street assembled on the sidewalk watching him scaled the north face of the New York Times building. Most of the people witnessing this were gawking, pointing, and capturing this spectacle with their camera phones, video cameras, and digital cameras. Police officers were blocking off the sidewalk at the base of the building and asking the onlookers of the crowd to move along.
"Look how fast that guy is moving up." A tall, well-dressed man continued. "He must be a pro at this."
"He will be arrested." A fat uniformed officer said. "This is nothing but a publicity stunt."
.... There is more of this story ...