He had checked every address he could find for the man, but was unable to locate him. Plenty of black men had been killed in the month since he had been looking, but they did not match the m.o of his killer. Perhaps it was possible the killer had moved and changed his m.o to blend in. He went back to the Carpenter and his computer specialist with his program that could locate almost anyone using facial recognition technology. However, this was a special version of the program or at least the guy was special. He was named Veto and had worked for the FBI. A computer top-class hacker, he could go into company files as well as any government ones. Veto would use his program to find any likely matches. In fact, he had been searching for some time now. Finally, there was a match. Seems the man he was looking for had moved to Milwaukee, changed his name and identity and even dyed his hair blond. There was no mistaking that face though. This was the rainbow killer who always left GZcarved into his victims’ bodies. The man who always poured Skittles on his victims’ bodies or left them scattered around the body.
The man known as the rainbow coated killer or gz killer stayed in a small home on 513 West Pacetter. He was familiar with the area as he had lived there a few years back. It was a nice place at one time, until gangbangers started moving in and fighting their little turf wars. Kind of strange that this Hispanic man who had a hatred of blacks would move into what was now a predominately a black area. Guess he would find out when he gave the man a visit. This technology and Veto’s ability to hack into any government databases, and those of almost any private corporation, would come in very handy in the future. He would be able to stay on good terms with the Carpenter and this man. He left the unremarkable home that served as a safety house for the Carpenter. He had plenty of these places around town to house people or equipment that he found useful. The Carpenter kept the police well paid to stay out of his business. Quinton left the unremarkable small white house and walked toward the Greyhound bus, humming the tune to of the Andy Griffith show. He could have run there considering he could match the speed of most average cars on the road. Of course, he could not maintain that speed for that long . He could take breaks, regain his energy, and keep going of course. He did not want to attract too much attention so he would get there the old-school way.
Quinton went over in his mind how he would torture the man. He really was getting tired of the methods he was using. Maybe he could find some torture magazines or something. There were magazines and websites for almost anything online, so maybe he could find something. He could just kill him quick and easy or maybe plant a bomb in his house or car. The ingredients to make a simple bomb could actually be found in most hardware stores. The main goal was to take care of the animal. On his way to the rainbow killer’s home, he read up about a zoo that had opened in the area in the last decade. They had all kind of exotic animals. Exotic animals that were very dangerous. Lions were the ones who caught his interest mainly. There was a picture in the paper of people throwing snowballs at these lions. One of the people matched the picture he had seen of the rainbow killer. You could not see the entire face, but it was him. He had been thinking of a special way to kill this man and the fool had given it to him.
Finding the home was not hard. It was a decent-sized, two-story town-house painted mostly brown. He easily jumped over the small 6-foot fence and crept towards the house. The guy definitely kept his grass cut and the place looking good. There was a pit bull in the yard that woke when Quinton came too close. He quickly punched the dog in the face, knocking it out. It fell back on the ground as quickly as it had risen. He picked the dog up and put it back in it s doghouse. He meant the animal no ill will as he was here for its master. This doghouse was really nice. It was pretty large, heated and even had a special area for the dog to poop with plumbing. Funny how some people would treat animals like royalty and humans like trash. A number of homeless people would gladly live in this doghouse. Once the pit bull was put back in his nice, soft dog bed, Quinton went back towards the house.
It was a simple matter to jump up to the second floor from the back yard for a guy like him. The window to one of the bedrooms was actually slightly open. He simply slid it the rest of the way open and crawled in. He could have broken into the home easily from any angle, but did not want to make any noise. Exploring the place, it was a nice home with three small bedrooms. Maybe this guy had company over often or something. Right now there was no one home, but his target. He walked into the guy’s bedroom, sat down on his bed and woke him up. He wanted the killer to see him and know what was in store for him. The fool tried to rise and was shoved back down. He tried to scream, of course, but could not speak with a pillow shoved in his face. He gave the man a light blow to the chin to stun him. He then started to explain everything to him.
“I know you are the one killing young black men. I know it has something to do with the murder and rape of your relative. I know that you are now killing innocent young men that had nothing to do with it. I am going to inject you with this syringe here. It is holding something that will paralyze you for a good deal of time. Hours from what I understand. You will be able to hear, see feel and think. You will not be able to move, speak or react in any way. Understand that you are going to die this night. I could kill you myself easily, but I want you to experience the same level of terror that those young teenage boys felt when you overpowered them and sent them to their death. I saw you in the paper abusing animals at the zoo. You like being the bully, don’t you? We’re going for a ride in that nice blue minivan of yours to the zoo. We’re going to meet some old friends of yours.”
He easily found the car keys after a quick search and took some cash and jewelry as well. This guy would not be needing it any time soon or ever again actually. After he loaded the body in to the van, it was about a good hour’s ride to the zoo. Along the way he told the GZ killer some interesting facts he had read about lions. This was all relevant because he would be soon spending some very close and personal time with them. He parked the vehicle about five minutes from the zoo and ran the rest of the way at super speed with the man slung over his back. It was an easy matter to jump over the fence into the zoo and avoid their security cameras. There he found the lions’ den. From here you could look down on the lions sleeping soundly in their den. There was a large black rail going along the top of the lions’ den. Nothing to do now, but get the lions ready. There seemed to be two of them, one male and one female. One would be more than enough for what he had in mind.
He made a large pile of snowballs and started to throw them at the lions. After three or four, they were up on their feet prowling around their den. After 30 or so snowballs these lions were pissed and growling. He picked up the rainbow killer and lowered him down by a rope he’d found in the man’s home Lions slept most of the day and hunted at night from what he remembered learning about them in school.They were definitely up and about, and pissed that they had been smacked with snowballs constantly. The two lions walked over to the man who was unable to move and sniffed him for a few minutes. Quinton waited patiently with expectation of what was to come. Lions were opportunistic eaters. They stole food from other hunters in the wild and ate animals that had died from natural causes. They would even eat the cubs of hyenas and other animals. They started to chew through the ropes and were soon ripping off the clothing of the rainbow coated candy killer. He imagined it must be excruciating to be eaten alive by creatures with such large and powerful teeth. You could hear them ripping the man’s flesh and his muffled groans, as he could not speak from the chemicals he had been injected with. He watched as the lions tore apart every last piece of the bastard. After they were done killing him, Quinton tore open a two pound family sized bags of Skittles and spilled the bags as best he could over the remains from up above the lion pit. He left and headed back home to his underground flea market to rest and revitalize.
He was glad he had killed this beast, instead of doing something stupid like turning him over to the police. The police would have mos
t likely just taken his word for it and let him off. At some point someone would have made a stink about it, and he would have been arrested and given some crappy trial. They would let this dude off. Give him an all-white jury or some crap like that. Fools would be running around talking about a civil suit or a civil rights suit or something. Taking money would punish the guilty party, but it would not bring back all the young black men this thug had killed. Maybe a civil suit could find him in prison, but so what? This punk would enjoy himself in federal prison living off the public’s money. Hell some homeless guys would love to be in federal prison. Why should the GZ killer get a free federally funded apartment with exercise equipment, health care and free food? Hell, if the dude liked men or was bisexual, there was plenty of potential boyfriends there. Heck, you could even get sex with women in prison these days. The Producer had banged some female guards from what he had heard. No, what he had done was for the best.
In this society, people did not care about what happened to young black men. Some people from the other races did not care, sometimes black people did not seem to care themselves. Look how they let their young men walk around with their pants sagging looking like fucking fools. How many of these black men had no fathers in the home. How many of their parents gave them any real guidance, love or teaching on how to be real men and upstanding young men. He killed this animal because he deserved it, but also to avoid the circus from racist whites who did not care what happened to dark-skinned men. Also to avoid the nonsense coming from black people who did not give a shit as long a white person did not do the killing. Black life is cheap and society continually fails young black men and women. Hope those lions appreciated their delicious meal of racist white meat flavored with a paralyzing drug. Not enough to harm lions, but more than enough to paralyze a human.
He saved a small amount of the killer’s blood in a vial. He would be able to drink it and access the man’s memories. He already knew the fool was guilty beyond a shadow of a doubt as he had found the man’s journal detailing some of his murderers. He still wanted to see it from the killer’s eyes. As usual the blood allowed him to access the man’s memories and see as if he was the person. Different memories were represented as numerical symbols, and he could pick which one to relive by focusing on it. This is something he had learned to control over time. Before he would simply be pulled into the memories and had no control over what he saw. It was the same with his enhanced hearing. He activated it by focusing in his mind, and he would see numerical symbols, which were Pythagorean theorem triples if he remembered correctly. He was shocked at the number of kills this man had racked up, and how many he was responsible for that he had not been credited for. He had been killing young black men for some time, and had only recently started the things with the branding and Skittles in the last couple of months. So the Mexican woman who was raped and killed was his sister. He had spent years tracking down the men responsible for the crime. For his revenge he did not go after those men immediately, but had decided to kill their sons. Of course, he had killed young black men that had nothing to do with the situation. He found that he enjoyed killing and rationalized the murders because of what was done to his sister. The police, or course, never made the connection to many of the teenage boys killed because they really had not ever captured the men responsible; so they could not know that their sons had this connection. He would take a day or two off from punishing criminals to relax and celebrate killing this sick bastard. Then he would try and locate Big Al and finish off Bill and his friends.
Bill was at a bar relaxing with a friend of his from the force. He was an Italian man named Alberto, who had joined the force a few months before the child molestation case. He was a young guy who admired Bill’s way of thinking. Bill had beaten the statutory rape case, but getting him put in prison was never the goal anyway. The master mind of this plot wanted to hurt his reputation, piss him off, and ruin his ability to seek power through political office. There went his dreams of one day running for president. He was no longer superintendent of the police or even on the force. The mayor had asked for his resignation. Of course, he would still get his benefits from years on the force. All was not lost. He still had large sums of money saved up from all his illegal activities over the years. Millions of dollars in offshore accounts, not to mention the businesses he owned that would almost be impossible to trace back to him.
He could go to another country and start over from scratch. There were places that people were not that morally uptight. Before he left he would take care of a few things first. That Dudley Do-Right looking bastard would have to be taken care of. After ruining his career, Quinton had added insult to injury. The man had painted his new home that he had moved into a month before the statutory rape case neon green with big purple letters saying “child molester lives here.” Of course, he had gotten the house repainted, but coming home and seeing that had really pissed him off. Quinton had to have had something to do with that. No vandals or random punks would have been so thorough with painting the entire home. No one in the area seemed to know anything about it or have seen any painting crews. Maybe Quinton did it himself. The man could move at superhuman speeds for short periods of time. He could have done it at night maybe. He would kill this bastard before leaving. The thing was he did not feel his quest for power was over actually. This could be a new beginning for him actually. As long as you understood how things worked in this world, you could always rise back up again to power.
Money and power made all things possible. This is what he was explaining to Alberto as they drank at the bar. If you have enough money or power, you can do anything you want. Take that hot bartender over there. The thick-ass blond chick. Go over and ask her to flash her breast. Show me that you can get her to do what you want. Alberto walks over to the woman and begins to flirt with her. He asks to see her breast. Of course, she curses at him and refuses. He walks back over to Bill who laughed and starts walking over to her. Watch a pro. “Excuse me, miss, I was wondering if I could see your breasts.”
“Look, I already told your stupid friend that you cannot see my breasts. Now leave me alone or I will have the bartender remove you.”
Bill goes into his pocket and pulls out a roll of money as thick as his fist. He proceeded to put down $300 in $20s on the counter.
“Now can I get a look at those miss?”
“Why of course you can, sir.”
She proceeds to undue her white shirt, removes her bra and lets two huge white firm melons hang out for 20 seconds before putting them away. The cash quickly disappears into her hands. She also leaves her phone number and address on a napkin for Bill, which disappears into his hands. He has no problem kicking it with a woman who only cares about money. Things work better when people are up front in relationships. He walks away and sits back at his table with Alberto. “See how I got her to do what I wanted and you could not. Charm and looks do not matter as much as money or material things in this world. People can say what they want, but money and prestige means more than almost anything. There is a saying a role model of mine growing up as a kid used to say. You should remember this. ‘Power flows to the one who knows how, desire is not enough.’”
They spend the rest of the night drinking and partying. Bill gets the hot bartender, and another thick white girl to come home with him, so he and Alberto can rock their worlds. He has no problem paying for it. All guys paid for it at some point, but did not realize it. If you took a woman to dinner or bought her gifts, then you were still paying for it. He knew of guys who would buy a woman jewelry or other costly gifts who did not seem to understand this. Yes, you had the romantic nonsense going on, but you were still paying for it. In any case, he would concentrate on entertaining these lovely young blond white chicks at his home now, and deal with Quinton’s nonsense tomorrow, or rather Big Al would.
Finally, it was time to off that Dudley Do-Right acting punk Quinton. With these experimental sniper’s rifles, they could take this fool out. Bil
l was planning to go into other rackets. Bill still had a lot of connections with the department and would have a lot of influence in who got picked as his successor. Big Al knew he was a virtual shoe in for the job, but he needed to get rid of Quinton. If this man was left alive, he would have to always be looking over his shoulder wondering when he would strike next. No doubt the man would find out who killed his grandmother and come for him. He would set his trap today. They had let it be known on the street where Big Al would be. No doubt Quinton would hear and come around looking for him at some point. The only thing to do now was wait. He had been busy robbing drug dealers and giving the drugs over to his chosen drug dealers, who split the profits with him 50-50. He 'd learned that little game from Bill. As fun and as lucrative as it was, he was ready for some action. The snipers were set up around the location so he was just waiting for Dudley Do-Right to get his black ass here.
It seems things were looking up for Quinton as of late. The Carpenter had some good news from the streets. It seems Bill’s new pet head thug was hiding out in a small house on the West Side of Chicago. He had the address and was headed out there right now. Driving there he thought of what he would do to Big Al. That bastard had killed his grandmother and some of his other relatives with her. He had always been very fond of his grandmother when he was growing up. He had stayed in touch with her before he underwent his change. He had sent her money anonymously up until the time that she was killed. His grandmother was a good person who would give another the shirt off her back. He remembered as a child sitting around with her watching Matlock, and in the Heat of the Night and All in the Family. She always had a quaint way of referring to herself in the third person. She would say granny does not like those old nasty horror films or grandma will cook you some food. He could not wait to get his hands on that dibble big Al. That was what they called police in Chicago these days. He could not believe that he used to be a one of those dibbles. Those corrupt, crooked animals abusing their power. He finally pulled up to the home, a small mostly white two-story house in the middle of nowhere. There was nothing out here in the way of stores, people or other homes. He got out of the car went up to the house, kicked the door in and searched the place.
Abuse of Chikara (book 1) Page 25