Kingly
King of kings
"NO MATTER HOW YOU TRY, [...] NEVER DIE... WE JUST RETALIATE WITH HATE THEN WE MULTIPLY"
-Tupac Shakur
| Name |
"Khalil Bishop Steele, Best remember that shiii."
| Nicknames |
"Teachers call me one name, Streets call me others."
K Dot, Steele
| Age |
"Young Blood, yet ya moms call me daddy." *Cracks up*
18
| Grade |
"Maaan fuck school, Imma flunk out anyway. Teachers ain't teachin' me the shit I need. Like how not to get shot out here, like how to find a damn meal out here, so what the fuck school good fo'?"
Lucky to be a Senior
| Sexuality |
"Ayee man, I love em all. The black girls, the snow bunnies, the chicas, even the Chinese ones you know what I'm saying?" *Laughs* "I love it when you call me BIG Poppa."
Heterosexual
| Ethnicity |
"Ayiti and Trinidad stand up!"
Haitian mother and Trinidadian father, both were born in America.
| Appearance |
"Best hide ya girl when I'm 'round, believe that."
Khalil thanks the lord for his many blessings, in all areas of his body. Standing at five foot ten inches and weighing in at One hundred eighty-seven pounds. Khalil is a Mack in his prime, and all the block girls know it. He knows it himself, using it to his advantage and forever toning his body for it's his most valuable tool, and weapon. He exercises daily as if running from Ghosts and pissed off cops wasn't enough. His body remains toned with muscular arms as well as clean cut abs. His deep almond shaped, light brown eyes have that intensity that could charm you into spreading your legs, or scare you into dropping your money. And most of all his hair cut, the thing he makes sure is always in tip top shape. His high top, with the line in the middle separating both sides is a hairstyle he has loved and has been growing out for years now. "A cut in 7 days and the bitches will stay." he always says. Though he takes a little more then just a week to return to the barber for a fresh new line up.
| Clothing Style |
"Stay fresh, you know me."
Khalil loves to dress fresh, just as much as all the other hood boys do. Though the cost of buying fresh new outfits is a high one. Usually spending the money he makes off of dealing or that he steals, to buy him a fresh new outfit and of course the most important thing, a fresh new pair of sneakers. Khalil lavishes in that "Ghetto fabulous" life style, always wanting the chains that only the big dope dealers on the block can afford to rock. Always wanting that fresh new pair of kicks to stunt on anyone in the school. And what he wants he will get.
| Distinguishing Marks |
"My body been through these streets, it's like a Bed-Stuy mural."
~The letters GTC crossed out on the middle of his chest.~
~The name of his mother tattooed on his upper right shoulder~
~A mac 11 tattooed on his left peck, pointing up to his head. With the words "'Till my last breath." scripted under the trigger.~
~A tattoo of a flaming star with his old basketball number 7 in the middle. On his right peck.~
~Slash across the lower right side of his Torso, starting right at the edge and going down to his hip.~
~Small dash like scars, two on his upper left arm and one on his right shoulder from bullet grazes.~
| Personality |
"Look I'm just keepin' it real.. Ya'll can try but can't nobody be me, word is bond."
Khalil is a child of the streets, born into it's ruthless world and destined to die in it just like all the others. You may sometimes wonder what type of man Khalil would be if he wasn't the product of a gang banging T Blood and a heroine addict. But he was, and his personality is shaped by that. Some people who Khalil don't like may describe him as ruthless. If he doesn't fuck with you, you will most definitely know. He won't sugar coat a thing and he isn't with the chit chat. If there are some serious problems, be prepared to knuckle up. His short-temper combined with his desire for power can be dangerous at times. His eagerness to always make sure people know he got the juice may sometimes thrust him into very bad situations, this is why he needs his friends to keep him from going too wild, even if he may call them pussy and shove them off.
His friends. He has a large circle, though keeps the circle of real friends small. Sure he'll holla at you on the block, but you might not be the one he trusts walking into King's park with him with a fat bag of weed ready to be sold. It's easy to befriend him but hard to gain his real trust. And even harder to get rid of a grudge he has held against you. He's learned that you can't give trust out easy in Bed-Stuy, and that if someone has done something to anger him that much, then they should never be forgiven. And if someone has done something to earn his trust truly, or has been there for him since day one? He'll ride with you to hell. Aside from when it's really time to be hood, Khalil is a pretty fun guy to hangout with. His lack of fear and, extreme lack of fucks to give make him a laugh and a damn good time. And if his mama ever taught him one thing, it's to respect women. And he means real women, not these hoes or dumb tricks walking the block. Though he'll fuck them and play with their hearts they'd never get his respect. Khalil can see a real woman that demands respect, and by all means they are entitled. Though you can't expect someone with his looks not to be flirting with the dimes he see's. He's slept around a lot, some girls even tried to trap him, though luckily he made it out. All the girls on the block know Khalil got game.
Sometimes his blood-lust and desire for power can cloud his judgement, maybe even scare people, though he has the right intentions, they are corrupted by the streets. People can realize the potential Khalil has, aside from when he's angry the boy is intelligent with things going on in the real world. He may not have that book knowledge and be able to tell you how to break down a quadratic formula or tell you the 15th president or write an essay on an atom. But he will damn sure be able to tell you all about the Plessy vs Ferguson decision, or give you details about the little rock nine. He'll even be able to tell you shit about the moors that your history teacher didn't even learn about. He'll give statistics on police brutality murders, black on black crime deaths, number of projects being constructed in Brooklyn and just how much drugs are coming into these streets. And he can speak well, wastes no time to speak his mind and preach about what's going on. Combined with the fact that he has a mean jump shot, maybe even if he applied himself more to basketball he could have what it takes to go pro. Yet the streets hold him back, even though he's aware of what's going on, at the end of the day it's his stomach that's touching and he will do whatever it takes to get his meal.
The people who really know him, aside from the jokes and the sex, and the street side of him. Can see how much potential he's draining away in these streets. So tired of not having things, he'd never go the right way. Too proud to fold. Some may even confront him about it even if he'll just tell them to "Shut the fuck up." kindly and continue what he's doing. One day he might be on some Martin Luther king fused with Malcolm X type shit, out to break the people from their trap. But then the next day he'll be ready to walk right back into that same trap, out to mug somebody or flip some weed into cash, and go out and party and fuck. He isn't taking shit from nobody, not even Meech if he has a glock to his head. His lack of fear will lead to his own demise, and the worse part is, he doesn't care if he has fifty people supporting him or if he is on his own. Because he will do shit on his own if he has too, he doesn't need to depend on nobody. All in all Khalil is Ruthless, funny, wild, intelligent, flirty and trapped.
But most of all, he's one hundred percent Brooklyn.
| Goals |
"Fuck the T Bloods, Fuck the Ghosts, Fuck the greens, Fuck them Myrtle boys and Fuck the police. I'mma keep doublin' up, and doublin' up and doublin' up, until I'm at the top, or these muh fucka's kill me. I'mma own these streets, word is bond, now it all depends on if you riding with me or not."
-I- Be the most respected mother fucker in New York, starting with Bed-Stuy. -I-
-II- Get his mama out of the projects, and buy her a big house -II
-III- Kill Meech -III-
-III- Live to see 25 -III-
| Likes |
"Gotta luh theese."
Malcolm X
Marcus Garvey
Hard Rap Music
Basketball
Drugs
Girls
Alcohol
Parties
Sneakers
Cars
Big dogs
| Dislikes |
"Fuck these!"
Police
Racists
Cats
Snitches
Back stabbers
Liars
Absent Fathers
Simple Minded
Punks
T Bloods
Ghosts
| Fears |
"Ain't a fear in my heart."
Khalil has two major fears. One of them is getting locked away. not that he has fear of the actual prison or the people in it. Just the fact that he would truly be in a cage, trapped and unable to move forward with his life or to seek out more knowledge. The fact that he would leave his mama alone without him, and that he won't be there if his boys need them. And most of all the fact that he will do one of the biggest things they want him and boys like him to do, rot in jail or die.
His final fear is death. It's hard to explain his fear of death for he is in no way shape or form scared of the pain. And he has already come to terms with the fact the he will most likely end up dead before he's even 23 with the shit he's doing. But he's scared of having to die before he's done with everything he plans to do. Similar to his fear of prison, he doesn't want to die and leave his mama alone, and he's also obsessed with the way he's going to die.
| Gang Affiliations |
"Still a blood in blood. But I sure as hell ain't no sweet ass 9 Tray no more."
Former T Blood
| Habits |
"I be buggin' out sometimes."
-Stretches out some of his last words to emphasize them.-
-Cocks his head and bites his lip when he is deep in thought.-
-His jaw will begin to flare if he's starting to get angry and ready to fight.-
-Will start randomly free styling on long walks.-
-Can randomly get really deep in conversations, especially when he's high.-
-Licks his lips and rubs his hands together when he spots the next girl he's going to make his move on.-
| Khalil's Past |
Khalil Bishop Steele, born January 8th 1976 to Bishop Amari Steele and Esther Vladine Bastien, was born and raised in the Bed-Stuy projects. His father, at the time was the kingpin of the 9 Tray Bloods. Instead of raising Khalil to be a real man and show him that he can find his way out of these streets, Bishop raised his son into the T Bloods, dooming him from the start. His pops was the main figure in his life, his mother at the young stages of his life was still addicted to the needle. Khalil remembered walking home from elementary school on his own and coming home to see his ma passed out on the couch with the needle in her arm, and his pops no where to be found. His pops would tell him just to take the needle out and get rid of it somewhere when he wasn't there.
Bishop wasn't exactly in Khalil's life, yet he wasn't completely absent either. After all Khalil was just another one of Bishop's many children, and Khalil's mother was just another junky that fucked to get another shot of Heroin. Still, Bishop at least made efforts to show up and make sure everything was alright in the house. Giving money where needed and giving the young Khalil one of his 'Lessons' whenever he visited. Though the lessons he was teaching the kid, was as if he was trying to raise a little thug. Things like, "Don't let nobody mess with you, not the kids at ya school not even ya damn teachers." or "Always be on guard, you never know who's at your back." and Khalil understood none of it. Keep in mind the kid was 7 at the time, and Bishop sounded like he was more paranoid then trying to give advice. Hell, Bishop even had Khalil outfitted in all red to go to elementary school.
Either way, Khalil followed whatever he could make sense of the man saying. He started acting up in class, not caring what the teachers said and starting up with any of the kids he didn't like. His behavior was terrible, but the bad part was they didn't have anyone to call home to. His father only visited the projects he left them in every once in a while, and he honestly could give a fuck less about Khalil acting up in class. And as for his mom, well she still had a little problem with that needle addiction, and would rather spend her time injecting herself with temporary happiness mixed with depression instead of caring about her child. But one valuable lesson his father actually did tell him, was to always take care of his mother. And so he did.
As Khalil grew, he always wondered why his pops couldn't just give money to send his ma to a good rehab. It's not like Bishop wasn't balling out in the kingpin spot. It's just that Bishop was that type of cheap mother fucker. He would always say "You don't make money by spending it." and argue that if his ma really wanted to sober up, that she would take some of that monthly money he gave and go send her self to rehab. And it wasn't like she didn't try, she would sober up for short periods of time before falling back into addiction. Khalil pretty much raised himself, apart from the times his mother wasn't on the needle, she would punch in what she could, though her addiction was always calling for more. She was lucky to even live long enough to the point where Khalil could finally help her.
At 13 Bishop began to visit more often as Khalil was starting to get a little bit older and could understand things better. It wasn't like Khalil hadn't already known what was going on around him. Shit, he was born straight into the thick of the street life. But now was the time his father could make a real T Blood out of Khalil. He started teaching Khalil all about the drug game, the weights, the nick names, the costs, what was on the market and everything. Anyone looking in could see how horrible of a father Bishop was, raising his son into a life like this. But to Khalil, Bishop was the only father, and he felt as if he was the only one really looking out for him. And he was of course a lot better then all of the absent fathers because he was giving and teaching Khalil how to make money, even if it was illegal.
It wasn't long before Khalil started as a young dope boy on the block. He of course had a T Blood assigned to watching over him during deals, but Khalil was pretty much in the thick of it at 13. Though younger dope boys weren't uncommon, they were the perfect distributors to shield from the cops. Who would of thought they had bags of cocaine or heroine hiding in the little pockets of their school book bag. And Khalil damn sure wasn't the only Brooklyn boy peddling drugs.
Through this Khalil instilled himself as a solid member of the T Bloods. He would come to middle school stuntin' on all the kids, rocking kicks that most of their parents couldn't afford, repping the 9 Trays and becoming popular just in that fact. He also finally got that cash he had been saving up to send his mama to rehab, and finally they had reached one that genuinely worked. And the woman that came back was truly a woman, his ma had actually managed to change in rehab, for the cost of a year of being completely gone in his life.
This new Esther that was now in his life, swore to really be in his life and insisted that he stopped taking part in this hood bullshit. She actually begun to teach him real life lessons, and showed him the things his father never did. Though parts of him were too far gone to look back. Either way, he loved his mother so dearly, she was still a queen to him. So he tried to do everything she said. He stopped slinging drugs with the T Bloods, even though he still kept close ties with the gangs. He stopped acting up in school after a few good beatings from a woman he wouldn't ever dare to hit back. And he started to learn, not necessarily the regular school stuff, but the things they don't teach or go into much detail too. He also took an interest in basketball more, playing for his schools team and dominating the courts.
Things were going well, even though he hadn't seen his father ever since his ma sobered up. It wasn't like they needed him. Well, they were struggling but still. His mother was working for meager pay, though it just barely scratched the surface of what was enough for the both of them. Some nights dinner was just a hot dog on a piece of sliced bread. Some nights there was no dinner at all. yet they were living legal, and that's all his ma wanted.
That was until the major turning point in his life. Khalil was 16 when his father showed up saying he needed his help. It had something to do with them finding a major Ghost drug house. If they rode over there busted it up, not only would they seize possession of a ton of cash and drugs, but they would seriously fuck up the Ghosts. Khalil who still had some T Blood in him was ready to ride on his pops command, so they were out. Strapped up from head to toe they drove out all the way out to Clinton hill, not quite to what they expected.
Standing outside of the abandoned projects were 3 other T Bloods, the young T Blood Meech from Canarsie who was already becoming a name not to be fucked with. As well as 2 older T Bloods, each of them strapped and ready for action. Though as they lowered themselves downstairs into the empty basement, Bishop realized at that exact moment what this was. It wasn't a Ghost Town Crip bust, it was the arrangement for his death. Meech as the first to draw, quickly turning and popping a shot at Bishop. The experienced kingpin knew to jump out of the way as soon as he was reaching in his drawers. Khalil pulled out his own gun and fired at the Meech focused on his father. Though his shaky hands just missed it's target, only grazing his arm. "RUN!" His father yelled as the other two T Bloods drew their weapons and began firing at Khalil. He ducked, though one grazed him in his upper right shoulder causing him to yelp out in pain. He heard another scream in pain as he turned to see his father clutching his chest, he was a goner. Khalil had to get out, so he tucked his head and ran out as the older T Bloods followed him out, two more bullets grazing his arm.
Khalil was lucky to make it out alive that night, things got worse after the death of his father. He came to learn that his ma didn't actually have real work, she was prostituting for the T Bloods to make ends meet. And after Meech killed his father, the former king pin, they had received orders to get new everything, including prostitutes. It was like none of the T Bloods cared that Meech had betrayed to get the top spot, though no one was willing to fuck with him that's just the way it goes. Broke, with no income coming in, Meech tried to focus on school like his ma would preach. She would always say that you go through school and you'll make some real money. But unfortunately that wasn't exactly how it worked, and right now they needed some real money. And school wasn't giving him shit except for bull shit ass racist teachers getting on his nerves. He was sick of not having things anymore, he realized that the only way to survive in these streets now was to walk back into that trap. So he did, he blamed Meech for every single thing that happened, but he walked back into that old lifestyle. He stopped playing basketball, he stopped attending classes, and he went back out into those same cold streets. This time he wasn't serving no T Bloods or Kingpins. He was going to do this shit his way, until he would draw his last breath.
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