1 Year Later: An ocean-blue drop-top Lamborghini is parked on the street, and there’s a curvaceous woman with a distinct buzz cut sitting calmly in the passenger seat. The streetlight ricochets off of her pink lipstick as she chews her gum. She’s filing her nails, but outside of the car there’s some commotion. A man was just slammed onto the hood of the vehicle, and there’s a gun poking at the side of his head. We can’t see his face, but he stares into the car and pleads with the woman to make this all cease. The woman removes her sunglasses and smiles before opening her car door.
4 Hours Before: 21 Savage is on the run, but you wouldn’t be able to tell. He’s currently sailing away on a yacht, accompanied by some beautiful women on a hot summer day—but he isn’t smiling. His eyes are closed, and he’s shirtless, deep in thought, with the sun beaming on his skin. The boat sails out as he lies positioned toward the sun. His sunglasses are tilted off his nose. He briefly smiles at the sound of the women having a good time, but his expression quickly tenses again. He remembers making his getaway from the police that night, but how he pulled it off is still in question. He even managed to lay low for a full year—bouncing from city-to-city, and staying with old friends. With a hefty amount of money stashed away, 21 Savage has decided to kick back and take a break from his savagery. But the more he tries to escape his past, the more it secretly haunts him. He’s decided to head to Miami to ease his mind and reconnect with a special friend. Unbeknownst to him, his name has traveled further than he could’ve imagined—and this special friend of his is bound to bring out a side of him he’s been trying to tame.
21 and his sailing mates are beyond tipsy. Sitting up, he looks around as he takes a swig from his styrofoam cup. His phone begins to ring, and he picks up without hesitation. He nods his head as if the caller can see him, before he speaks. “Party on the yacht, brought the hoes out,” he says looking up to admire his surroundings. He looks at the time, as he gets off the phone. “Rap niggas callin’ my phone, fuck these niggas, these niggas ain’t G’s,” he says as he tosses his phone to his side.
One of the women approaches him with a lit blunt in hand, and puts it to his mouth. “I don’t smoke weed cause it make me paranoid,” he declines calmly. Soon, he and the women are exiting the boat. He makes his way to an ocean-blue drop-top Lamborghini parked nearby, with the women following closely behind. A black unmarked car with heavily tinted windows pulls up, bringing 21 to a standstill. The car harmlessly drives off. 21 stares on a moment longer before turning to his car and jumping in the driver seat. He revs his engine as the women giggle. He abruptly drives off with them still looking on—presumably in shock that they’ve just been left behind.
21 is now cruising down Miami’s Collins Ave in his topless Lamborghini. He remembers driving down a similar path back home, but that was a troubled time he managed to escape. Now he’s more relaxed than ever before. Although he should be laying low, he’s comfortable when he’s flashy. He glances over at Lincoln Road Mall, and decides he’ll go inside.
His entrance is met with plenty of skeptical stares. He continues into the mall confidently. He shakes his styrofoam cup as he makes his way toward a jewelry store. He walks in and customers begin to step aside as the store worker looks at him, clearly intimidated by his presence. 21 leans into the display glass, presumably seeing something he likes. He points to a ring, demanding to see it, and the seller happily obliges. Savage moves his sunglasses to his head, locking eyes with the seller, before drawing his attention to the detail of the ring. “Yeah, VVS nigga, real clarity,” he says, as he nods with approval. He signals for the ring to be bagged up to his liking, and drops a load of money on the table. “I’m the Saint Laurent Don, love to cash out,” he says with a smirk, before making a swift exit with his new purchase. 21 seeks the nearest garbage can to toss his empty cup before proceeding to tour the shopping area.
Savage continues making his way through the mall, and he now has a few shopping bags full of new purchases. He begins to notice security guards signaling each other on their walkies. His presence is drawing too much attention and it’s time to go. He stares at one of the guards on-hand and shrugs his shoulders with both hands filled with bags. “Rags to riches,” he quips before making his exit. He strolls to his car and jumps in, tossing all his bags to the back seat. As he looks up, the unmarked car from earlier briefly surfaces again before riding off. 21 grabs at his pistol aggressively. His phone vibrates. It’s a message from his special friend, Amber—Attachment: 1 Image. He opens the explicit photo and gazes in awe. “Bad bitch, cute face, and some nice titties,” he says to himself. He begins to respond to the message, but is interrupted by a phone call. He sucks his teeth before answering. It’s Metro, who is joking about seeing him on the news in Atlanta. “Too much money got them pissed off,” Savage says dismissively. “Another nigga made the news, it ain’t nothin new.” The conversation moves to Amber. “She don’t want me to think that she easy,” he says as he glances at the photo again. “But she ain’t tryna make it seem like she teasin,” he adds as they both laugh. “She got me in my feelings,” he openly admits. Their exchange ends eventually, leaving 21 to respond to this tempting image on his screen.
“😍I was finna text you…I’m still coming to your rescue.” He tosses his phone in the driver seat, and grabs at an empty cup, immediately filing it with his beverage of choice. He takes a sip before speeding off.
21 pulls up outside of where the woman is staying. The sun begins to fade, but his eyes are the widest they’ve been. He watches as the front door opens, and out comes a blonde buzz-cut rockin,’ curvaceous woman. They lock eyes as she dashes over to the passenger seat and hops in. They immediately begin fondling each other intensely, as if one was locked away for sometime. He speeds into the night pointing at the bags in the backseat for her to tackle. All of the bags were purchases for him—all but that little black box. She smiles as she put the ring on herself—a more than generous “thank you” purchase; after all, she did hold him down on that fateful night he escaped from her place in Atlanta. “Hard to find a bad bitch to stay true to me,” he says as he flashes a rare smile. She tugs at his side, questioning why he had a gun on him. “Gotta keep it on me, niggas schemin’,” he replied.
They drive off into a discrete location, where Amber comfortably lays on his chest after he parks. He begins to open up to her, confessing his fears. “I see dead bodies when I close my eyes,” he confesses. She looks on, encouraging him to speak up.
“I have nightmares that the feds listening,” he adds. 21 looks over at the rear-view and notices the black car again from earlier. The car speeds off but this time, 21 decides to follow it. He whips his car around, gripping at Amber’s thigh, and speeds toward the vehicle. He quickly becomes engaged in a car chase. The mystery vehicle speeds off the road, to a residential area, but 21 is right behind it. He hits his breaks and points his pistol out of his car, shooting the tire—causing it to swerve and come to an abrupt halt.
Savage jumps out of his car to put an end to this mystery. He flings the door open with his gun in hand, but it isn’t a face he’s seen. He yanks the man out of the car. Demanding to know who he is, he slams the man’s head on his Lamborghini.
Current Time: Amber looks and smiles as 21 digs a pistol into the man’s head. “No trigger finger, I got a trigger hand,” 21 says to the man, who continues to cry for help. Savage still insists on knowing who sent him, but the man is unwilling to speak. Amber smirks as she gets out of the car and calmly walks toward 21. He now stands directly behind the guy, who was still face down on his car crying. Amber leans over and whispers in Savage’s ear, and he smirks holding up his gun. He shakes his head, as he nudges the side of the man’s head with his pistol. “Every nigga played, I killed him” he utters, disappointed. He pauses briefly, before drawing back and pulling the trigger. It’s unclear why he decided to let off, or what Amber whispered to him, but one thing’s for sure—what happened tonight is definitely going to come with some consequences.
Illustrated by Flygohr