Abuse of Chikara (book 1) (23 page)

Finding the other brother had not been hard at all. Quinton knew all of their favorite spots to hangout. These guys lived hard and loved night clubs. It was nothing unusual for young men actually. Most guys their age spent all their time partying like there was no tomorrow. A few hours wait outside a bar, and he had this fool back in his hideout and was paying him back for what he had done. The dumbass had come back to the same bar he picked his brother up at for the casual encounter. Guess these white boys could not resist the dark meat as the majority of females who frequented the club were sisters. The other brother had suffered horribly and so would this one. He had been reading up on different methods of torture the last few days. Dental torture had piqued his interest. It was easy enough to get a large drill. He had spent the last hour drilling inside the man’s mouth. He screamed and begged for mercy, but Quinton had none for Mr. Ron Billington here. He had to admit that he did enjoy the sound of this drill boring into teeth. He had never been much of a handyman, but maybe that could be his m.o. or something.Everytime he’d kill a guy, he could use carpenter tools or something.

This bastard was going to pay for what he had seen in his brother’s mind. They had both been involved in his sister’s death. After the dental torture, he tried cutting the man all over his body with a hot knife. He cut on his body for at least 10 minutes. He had to give the guy credit for his ability to stay awake. He took a long funnel that he had made especially for these type of moments. It could be forced down a person’s throat, and held down so they could not close their mouth or push it out. He finished forcing it down the man’s throat. He took a gallon of bleach and poured it down the man’s throat. There was choking and gagging. But it eventually all went down. He had read up on this type of funnel on the Internet. Amazing what you could read up on that thing. He was not about to leave anything to chance, so he chopped up the punk’s body into pieces with an axe he had acquired. He would dispose of the body like he had done the brother’s. Now the only person left was Big Al and Bill, of course. He had his informant trying to get Big Al’s location.. Bill would be a problem that he would have to think about more. In the meantime, he shoved the remains into garbage bags and cleaned the blood up. Being a former police officer, he knew how to dispose of bodies and leave little to no evidence. He would take care of this and then get some sleep

It was nice in Milwaukee at this time of year. Big Al loved sunshine and warm days. The hotter the better in his opinion. It wasn't just that he liked warm weather. When it was hot things were jumping. In the warm summer weather things jumped off. It was a well-known fact that good weather meant more people out on the streets interacting. More interaction meant more dumbasses abusing each other. It meant more excitement, conflict and more things for him to do. It meant more illegal opportunities for him to exploit, and he was always on the lookout for more opportunities. That was why he was here waiting outside this particular house. Bill had money, influence and power. All the things Big Al wanted and would do anything to get. He would kiss the black off Bill’s ass if he had to. Murder little kids or rape nuns if the man asked him to. The only thing he cared about was himself. Even as a child he had not given a shit about anyone other than himself. He would kill his own family members if someone offered him the right sum of money. He was not going to end up like his father had. His father had not been a bad man or abusive in any way. He was a loving husband and father, but never had two cents to rub together.

Growing up poor had not been a pleasant experience. Other kids teased you and shunned you. People treated you like garbage. No, he would become one of the one percent, no matter what it took. How come he could not have been blessed with athletic ability like NBA players or a mental ability like that Gates guy. Fuck it, he would become a member of the one percent no matter what it took! Bill had given him pictures of the people he was waiting for. Not that he would have forgotten them anyway. Big Al had an excellent memory and could remember things years back. He often practiced memory exercises to keep his mind sharp. It was nice of the Milwaukee Police to help out on this. Then again, those rather large payments of money from Bill may have had something to do with it.

Finally, they were coming out after hours of him sitting there patiently. An elderly woman, two grown men and two young boys maybe 9 or 10. He put on his ski mask and got his handgun ready to handle his business. He put a bullet in the elderly lady’s head and one in the older male’s head before they even reacted to the first shot. The other adult male tried to shield the two kids. This was exactly what he was hoping the man would do. Instead of running for cover, he had kept himself a stationary target. He put one shot in the man’s head and one in his back. Next he targeted the two kids. Some whinny ass people would be complaining about some thugs killing kids tomorrow. He did not give a shit, honestly. It would not be the first time he had killed children. During his years of combat in Iraq and Afghanistan, he had inadvertently blasted a number of kids. Hell, how many kids had gotten smoked in the crossfire with enemy insurgents. People did not care if he killed children in other nations. It was really so hypocritical to be honest. He might even be doing these two kids a favor. The world was a mean, hard place filled with motherfuckers like him. Now they would die and go to heaven or whatever holy place their family believed in. He blasted both kids and yelled out some Mexican gang slang for the people gathered in the area now. Hopefully they would think it is gang related.

He pulled off and rolled up his windows. No one would be able to identify his face with the ski mask on or get an idea of his body type in the car. Even when the mask was off, his tinted windows would make memorizing his face difficult. Even the license plates on the vehicle would not help them. They belonged to a Mexican thug with a rap sheet a mile long. This punk would be committing suicide tomorrow over his guilt of having killed two kids. Or was he going to be shot after running from two officers looking to question him about the shooting. He could not remember which scenario they were going to use. They already had the punk they were going to pin it on in custody. Not in an official police holding cell of course. He was being held somewhere else in a safe house. What he had yelled out was what these guys said when they killed someone. This would go to help the illusion. The guy they had grabbed was heavy into that particular gang.

He sped off heading to a predetermined area where he would turn the car over to other officers who would knew what to do with it. The good things is he had hung around long enough for people to take pictures of the vehicle with their cell phone cameras, and people would see the license plates. They would, of course, find the man’s fingerprints and personal material in the car. Paid informants in the general public, who could be trusted, would swear to seeing the man driving around in the area. The dude was screwed. And he had no chance of getting off. Bill did not just want to kill Quinton’s relatives. He wanted to really piss the man off. The story would be that one of the young men was involved in drugs. This would be some type of drug retaliation thing. After what Quinton had done to his guys that had felt good as hell. What made the story more plausible was that one of the man’s ’cousins had actually been in a shoot out with this gang. It was a simple matter to add two plus two. That is what he loved about Bill. Nothing the man did was off the wall or unbelievable. He came up with plausible scenarios to commit crimes based on things that had actually happened. Even if the Feds brought him up on charges, they could never prove anything. He was sure a man like Bill had an escape plan in case that happens any way.

He put on the radio and listened to his favorite musician, a guy named Easy E. A lot of his friends thought it was a bit funny that a white policeman liked rap music. He liked any type of music that had an aggressive edge to it. He did not feel bad for killing that family in any way, shape or form. Most people suffered violence from their family unit anyway. Family violence was a big source of crime in the good old USA. The numbers of family violence was even worse for African Americans. He may have saved that old lady from being a victim of elder abuse. Maybe those kids were neglected and would grow up to be thugs. He did not have any particular hate against African Americans to be sure. Never got why they spent so much time fucking each other over when many white people seemed to fucking hate them. You would think they would work together to move up the ladder like the Jewish people had. America is still obsessed over race. Anyone who thought otherwise was dreaming. He often sat around watching his nephews’ playing video games online. People often thought they were black by the sound of their voices. Oftentimes these others kids would ask them if they were black repeatedly or made racist comments.

Time to report back to Bill and start getting some men together for the next operation to finish this nonsense with Quinton. This is why Bill liked him so much. He took care of business and got shit done. No matter what your skin color or gender, people always liked those who could get shit done. He had to admit that Dirty Red had been a pretty slick dude. The guy had a impressive network of snitches and thugs working for him. What was even more impressive is that many street thugs did not even know they were doing his bidding through his agents. Big Al had taken that up a notch using social media more so than Dirty Red had. He had gang agents that worked for him that would go online and start shit up. These were guys who would start conflicts that ended up with people dead who Bill wanted dead. These dumbass motherfuckers did not even realize that they were often being maneuvered into situations that were not to their benefit, but worked for outside forces. See, Bill wanted the Street Captains to gain more power on the streets, so these other entrenched gangs had to go. Oftentimes they would persuade these fools to do things that would get them caught. The dumbasses did not realize the current gang war was even started by his people, so they could kill each other off and make their gangs weaker for the Street Captains to take over. Even more amusing both gangs purchased weapons from the Street Captains. Soon those gangs would get weaker, and once they were unable to control their territory the Street Captains would move in; and with their assistance, they would run things. Of course, they would pay their motherfucking rent as Bill was fond of saying on time. The dumb-ass gangs did not even realize that the idea for them to form special groups in the gang and target certain officers had actually come from him. This way they could kill Dudley Do-Right officers, not pay any henchmen or have it traced back to them. Then they could come after the gangs even harder and kill those responsible for killing the officers. This was too sweet thinking about it. They could have anyone they wanted killed, and kill the killer who did not even know they were working for them, and not even have to pay the dummies.

His grasp of social media and its powers had gone beyond just using technology to incite violence. He had brought back that “no snitching” campaign with a vengeance. Or rather, he had one of his agents do so. A young black man who wore hoods and had his voice altered by an electronic device started doing YouTube commercials bad-mouthing Blacks, Hispanics, and others for snitching. It had quickly been ramped up to free shirts being given out with different slogans concerning snitching. Big Al understood African American and Hispanic cultures and what slogans would get the best results. There were many shirts such as snitching is gay, police don’t snitch, so why should you? Real niggas don’t be snitching, I aint seen shit, snitches are bitches. There was even a no snitching film produced with a decent budget, which had a young man being the hero for not cooperating with police. The film had everything it needed to be a popular film. Good production visuals, racist white cops, parallels between the blue wall of silence and minorities not snitching, heroes, villains and good background music. They made sure to add songs that appealed to youth. Hell, he had to admit the actors were pretty good and he even liked the fucking film. He was almost tempted not to snitch if his ass got kicked. He had even had expensive “no snitching” shoes made that were being given out for free. These shoes were nice looking and comparable in quality to the most costly gym shoes on the market. He planned to expand into free clothing in the future. The no snitching movement had become far more powerful with him manipulating things behind the scenes, and he had plans to expand it. Unlike with the original movement, he had almost an unlimited amount of money to fund his ideas. Also, there was no face of the franchise, and no one authorities could really point to as the mastermind of the phenomenon. These were just some of the ideas that he had to exploit people’s stupidity to their benefit as not reporting crime only helped thugs and crooked cops like them.

Lucian loved art and spent whatever free time he had visiting museums and admiring art work. He had been to see the Eiffel Tower, the Statue of Liberty, Grand Canyon and many such monuments. This particular museum had some interesting paintings. He found one he could not take his eyes off. It was a picture of a large snake devouring an eagle that had flown down to attempt to eat a smaller snake. Places like this were actually fertile ground for making deals. Lucian had closed some of his biggest deals in places like these. Many of his kind looked for poor, downtrodden people who had hit a batch of tough luck. Maybe they had been poor all their life. Lucian was the top soul gatherer because he understood humans better than most. Many poor people lived most of their lives with little of anything. Thus, they could survive on not having much. The rich and obsessed over power more so than the poor. These people had grown accustomed to having a great deal in society. They were used to being treated in a special manner different than average humans. They were the ones more likely to do anything to stay on top. People would be surprised to find out how many actors had sold their souls for steady work in Hollywood, well into their declining years.