Abuse of Chikara (book 1)

by Stanley Cowens

  “Damn CJ, I feel like a donut man. Yo hommies, the Dunkin’ Donuts is on Lake and Cicero by the green line train station. Why don’t you ladies go shove your batons up each other asses?”

  Bill gives the code word, “All right, you punks, get up against the wall!” Hearing this is the plant a young black guy of medium build about 6 feet tall. He’s known as Pac Man in the hood. He’s called Pac Man because he likes wearing yellow as his primary colors and he is constantly eating. But he never seems to gain any weight, which is partly why they call him Pac Man. Pac Man starts screaming and pulls out a gun. “Fuck you pigs, I’m tired of this shit!” Pac Man pulls out a 38 and shoots at Bill, but misses badly. The other punks stand there, shocked as Pac Man takes off.

  Bill fires a shot at CJ, a short young African American about five feet, eight inches with a slim build. He bloodies up CJ’s white t-shirt sending him flying. Psycho is on the left of Bill; he shoots Rey and Chunk. He puts multiple shots into these punks’ heads and chest areas. He continues to shoot them even after they are on the ground bleeding. Nothing he likes better than killing people of any race. He really did not like Rey, who thought he was tough because he was 6 feet, 10 inches tall and had been in the county jail before. Chunk’s fat ass needed to lose some weight, and now the fucking worms would help his ass with that. Dirty Red quickly plants guns on all three guys. Red had done his homework on this one pretty well. The closest camera able to record anything in the area was in the gas station. He had gotten pretty friendly with the people working in this station. The camera was out of order and wouldn’t be fixed for weeks. In any case, Red was an expert at planting guns. He could do it and never get seen by anyone, no matter if they were being recorded or not. They would call it in and go through the normal review process. Witnesses would be interviewed, forensic evidence taken, reports would be made and examined. They wouldn’t find any smoking guns to prove them wrong. All the witnesses and camera film from their own vehicle would back them up. Time to call it in and get the show on the road.

  Finally, Nick was ready to start shooting his film. He had collected a group of thugs who would serve him well. All were Hispanic guys with ties to the Latin Monarchs. There were 15 guys in all. He had given five of them nicknames, which would appear on screen when they were introduced. Chopper was a large Mexican American with an axe. Saw was a skinny Mexican man with a chainsaw; Big Hombre, who favored long knives, and then Munchie and Cuervo. Nick had only given five of the 15 characters names as not to confuse the audience. These five would be front and center, and the others would be stock bad guys. They load up in a black van and head out to make his master piece.

  Bill, Red and Psycho are sitting around a table in McDonald’s talking about yesterday. It’s early morning and the place hasn’t filled up yet.

  “Damn, Bill, you guys blasted the fuck out those punks.”

  “I gave those punks plenty of chances to pay their rent, and they just got evicted, Red.”

  “Your not a bit worried about Quenton really looking into this Bill?”

  “He’s got no real proof, and our friend Dudley Do-Right is going to be too busy to worry about us.” They both laugh knowing what is going to be happening soon. At the end of the table next to Bill, Psycho is shoving delicious Quarter Pounders down his throat like a starving man. He hardly stops to breath or even chew, consuming enough food for three people. Red was always embarrassed to eat out anywhere with Psycho, but Bill found Psycho’s behavior amusing. Bill thought too many people were concerned with etiquette and things that really didn’t matter instead of the big picture in our society. Psycho is pretty much oblivious to Bill and Red’s conversation. Bill was the brains, Red carried out the plans, and Psycho Boy was Bill’s crazy pit-bull. To be honest, Red was just teasing Bill a bit. He didn’t care about those thugs a bit himself, but he liked to hear Bill explain his thinking on things. He admired the way that Bill decided what he wanted and got it. Unlike other people, Bill didn’t think in terms of limits or what he couldn’t do. Bill sits there a minute and starts explaining why he doesn’t care about killing those punks or others.

  “Those young punks did nothing but sit around all day selling drugs, loitering and harassing people. We did the city a favor by getting rid of those waste of flesh and bone. That bullshit about every one making the world go around is just bullshit. The world would be a better place if some motherfuckers got off. A lot of the people crying racism every time the police shot a minority wouldn’t want those motherfuckers in their house or apartment.”

  Red laughs and notices Psycho get up and leave the restaurant.

  “Where the hell is he going chief?”

  “Don’t know, but don’t worry about it, Psycho can take care of himself.”

  Psycho is heading toward the large garage shop on Lake and Cicero. Usually he doesn’t do this in uniform, but he was really in the mood right now. He enters the shop and unbuttons his shirt, rolls up his sleeves and gets to work. He grabs a sledgehammer and puts his favorite wrecking music on. He was a big Frank Sinatra fan and listened to many Sinatra tunes as he destroyed the property. He stands there in awe of the beauty of this beautiful looking car. He motions to Kim to bring him the rest of his tools so he can get started smashing a beautiful car that he had paid Kim to restore.

  Kim loved seeing this crazy white boy come in. He would pay to have classic cars restored and then smash them to bits with a variety of tools. The white idiot would do this until the vehicles could no longer be repaired. Kim didn’t really care as long as the vehicle wasn’t put on fire and explosive devices weren’t used. He was a bit surprised that Psycho boy, as they called him, often played classic music when he did this rather then rap or heavy metal.

  Psycho swings the heavy sledgehammer, smashing the front windshield and then the back window. Next, he goes to work on the car door windows. He grabs the jackhammer and drills holes over the entire car, making it look like Swiss cheese. Next was the chainsaw, his favorite piece of destructive equipment to use. He saws into the car at every angle possible, cutting off pieces of the body. Of course, he doesn’t spare the interior his special attention. He uses the chainsaw to cut the front and back seats in half. Sweating like a pig, nothing is left but to put the icing on the cake. He pokes holes in the tires with some type of long, sharp metal instrument. Kim really didn’t get any of it to be honest. The repair bill for this car alone could send one of his kids to college. Psycho might be crazy, but Kim wished he had a few more customers like him. Sweaty and tired, Psycho collapses at the front of the car. He really loved his black Pontiac Firebird Trans Am , and that was why he had to destroy it. He had to destroy anything he loved. He could see the bemused expressions on Kim’s face and the looks on the workers’ faces. About six guys from different races. African-American, Caucasian, Hispanic, Asian. All had different facial expressions and reactions to his little outburst. Most of these guys often cheered him on. As fun as this was, it was time to go. He had left Bill and Red back at the McDonald’s for at least 45 minutes. Psycho Boy rubs the sweat off his face, fixes his shirt, pants and heads out. Soon the producer would be making his movie and Bill needed his main guys ready to take advantage.

  Bill sat in his office thinking about the events of the last few months since the producer had gotten out of prison. Dirty Red had set the man up in the old, abandoned factory. He could still have Red call it off and have the producer go someplace else or go after other targets. While no love was lost between him and this new superintendent, getting rid of him could still be problematic. He could be discovered to be involved with it in any way, shape or form. Killing the man would be the final method, but there might be an investigation, and any clues could lead back to him. Therefore, the only options was to have him get himself removed from his position or try to make some type of pact with him. He had tried his usual brown nosing. He had taken the man out to lunch a few times, and even tried to give him gifts. He had taken Quinton to an expensive restaurant two day
s ago to try and explain his philosophy to him. Bill had tried make the man understand how the world really worked. Quinton had refused to understand the opportunities his position afforded him to benefit. Quinton had been nonresponsive to his advice about getting ahead. The fool talked about duty, honor and self-sacrifice. He had tried every tool in his book to suck up to Quinton. He tried massaging the man’s ego whenever possible. It did not work, and did neither material gifts or money. Instead of developing a rapport with the man, things gone in the opposite direction. Quinton had put the fear of god in the white shirts. Giving them write-ups and suspensions when they violated policy. Bill knew the man suspected him of being a dirty cop, but could not prove it. He had called Bill into his office for many tense, heated conversations concerning his actions. He could not get rid of Bill without proof and hard evidence to override his strong political connections. Quinton went out of his way to exercise his authority over Bill and show him who was boss. The man was the straightest arrow Bill had ever seen in his life. There was no way they would ever see eye-to-eye or cut any deals. If he did not destroy Quinton, the man would destroy him. Bill was a deep thinker who often sat around and thought about ways to overcome problems. He could study a person and size up their weaknesses. It had taken some time, but he has begun to understand Quinton’s weaknesses. His greatest strength was his greatest weakness. He took a great deal of strength from his relationships with his family. Once that was taken away, the man would crumble emotionally and destroy himself. He picked up the phone and gave the code word to Dirty Red to allow the producer to go ahead with operation: remove Dudley Do-Right. Quinton would pay his fucking rent one way or another.

  Nick couldn’t believe his luck this night. Quinton’s wife, according to his source, was staying in the area with a friend. She was actually about a mile from the factory. Seems she was staying with a friend in a small single-family home. The place was located on Lake Street and was not directly connected to any other homes. The place had an empty lot around it. The closest home was at least three blocks away. This would make the chances of them not being detected even better. He didn’t care if they got caught, but he wanted enough time to finish the film.

  They parked the black van on a side street and snuck over to the back yard of the house. He has the element of surprise, a good crew and all the streetlights were out. The power being out is not an uncommon thing between Lake, Cicero and Pulaski. Nick didn’t know if it was a blackout, rolling blackout or a brownout or something. The power seemed to be on in this home or maybe they had a back-up generator for power. That it had happened this night was another sign to him that he would ultimately succeed. Saw begins cutting around the lock on the back door, destroying it in minutes. Big Hombre kicks the door in and they all rush inside. They were inside of a small back porch area with a few stairs leading up to another door. Saw cuts this door open as well, cutting around the locks rather than the entire door. It was a little tip Nick had learned when shooting another one of his films. They finally enter the home going through the kitchen. He leaves two guys to guard this door and to make sure no one escapes. They split up and search the house.

  They find Quinton’s wife Alegría, her older well-figured friend, Abigail, Quinton’s daughter and two other children. Nick isn’t particularly fond of killing women and children, but he isn’t squeamish about it either. This part of his film was very important. He had to show the brutality of these five main characters, and it would keep with the dark tone of his film. They gather everyone into the living room. Big Hombre lines all three kids up against a wall. When Quinton’s wife tries to intervene, Big Hombre hits her with a right hook that sends her flying into a sofa in the opposite side of the room.

  Big Hombre was a tall man about 6 feet 10 inches, who looked like he spent all day eating beef and lifting weights. Big Hombre takes his large hunting knife and stabs Quinton’s daughter in the stomach and throat repeatedly. He barks orders to the crying young boys not to move or he would kill them. He actually chuckles at that because he was going to kill them anyway. Weeping and crying uncontrollably Nick was almost tempted to comfort the two remaining children. He resisted this temptation as he didn’t want to break the scene. Big hombre makes quick work of the boys in the same fashion he did Quinton’s daughter. Big Hombre had been something of a serial killer for years. Stabs to the stomach and neck were his calling card. The guys standing guard outside came inside to keep an eye on the females as the main villain characters split up. He wanted to get a separate scene of the main five guys to develop their characters.

  Cuevro brings in cases of beer from the van and passes them out to the other 10 guys in the living room. He plops down on a couch and starts channel surfing. He finds one of his favorite films “Death Wish,” starring Charles Bronson. Munchie, a fat, overweight sloppily dressed Mexican, goes into the kitchen. Munchie goes through the fridge and makes himself and Big Hombre ham sandwiches with all the fixings. They sit at the table reading the local newspaper and talking about sports. You wouldn’t think that they had just murdered three young kids. Next, he films Saw going around sawing up random objects in the basement for no reason at all. Chopper was with him, chopping things up as well. These two often hung out together. It seemed they had a shared love of random destruction. It was time to film the last part of this scene and leave. All 15 guys take turns raping the two woman. The women cry, curse and try to resist to no avail. This goes on for almost an hour. He would have to cut this down in editing of course. He had let it go on this long so he could get multiple shots. Unlike a normal studio film, he couldn’t do multiple takes of this scene and edit it. Time was of the essence and they couldn’t stay here all night long. He almost wish he had an actual movie staff to help him here. What he wouldn’t give for a huge budget or access to his own funds that were in his bank accounts before he was put in prison. Then again, this raw reality is what made his films so popular and unique. He was doing something that had never really been done before. Sure, some one may have made snuff films, but not like his. His movies had actual storylines and were put online for all to see. No hiding his stuff in a dark basement or secret place that the freaks frequented. In the past, he had shot long scenes with no cut aways to make it harder for the studio or editors to cut his stuff in ways he didn’t like. No need to do that anymore with the films he made these days. Next to him on a table is a black answering machine. He plays the messages hoping to hear something that might go well with the scene here. Apparently, Abigail has a daughter named Sharon, who would be coming to see her soon. Nick considered putting her in the film also, but thought better of it. No telling who or how many people Sharon would be coming with. He gives a signal off camera to the guys to end their sexual abuse of the women. Naked and sobbing the woman were not putting up much fight or resistance anymore. It’s a shame as to what had to happen next, but he needed Quinton to have enough motivation to do what needed to be done. They gather around the women in a circle to make sure that they won’t run. Chopper grabs his axe and begins putting them out of their misery. Abigail takes a chop to the head, first screaming as the axe connects with her head. Nick almost turns away at the constant sound of metal thumping against meat. The blood spatters all over the place, even on the camera lens. Wiping the blood off he sees that Chopper has already started on Alegría. What a shame to see such a pretty woman hacked into so much chop suey. With that done they quickly get back into the van and head back to the factory.

  Sharon had been calling her mother Abigail for the last three hours. She had called to tell her that she would not be able to make it for their regular get together. They usually tried to have dinner at least once every two weeks. She had left a message and it was not like her mother not to call back. After leaving a few messages with no reply, she had been worried and decided to drive over and check on Abigail. The place was not too far from where she lived, about a 45-minute drive with no traffic. Getting out of the car the place does not seem out of order. She knocks
on the door and does not get a reply. It’s possible that Abigail is sleeping. That woman slept like a corpse sometimes. She beats on the door loudly for at least five minutes with no answer. She goes through her purse again and cannot find the extra set of house keys that her mother had given her. She decided to try going around and knocking on the back door. She is shocked to find the back door open with the lock sawed off.

  Upon entering the home, she knows something is not right. First of all, the place looked like a pigsty. There was paper, clothing and food wrappers all over the place. Her mother had always been a neat freak. She had been one of those people who could not deal with any filth at all. She cleaned all day long. Once you were done eating, any wrappers or food remains had to be thrown out, dishes washed and put up properly. No way would she let someone drink beer and throw the empty glass bottles on the floors throughout the house. Who could she have been entertaining that even drank beer? Most of her friends were old women who drank tea and were health freaks. These were older people who did not fill up on cookies, beer and candy. The living room was really messed up with trash all over the place. There were large lumps in the middle of the floor with something under the carpet. It could be possible that those lumps were trash or garbage, but that would be unlike her mother to put trash under the carpet.

  She began to become alarmed and hoped she had just fallen on her own and could not get up. Maybe she had hurt her hip or something. Sharon noticed stains on the wall that looked like dried blood. She knew in her heart what had happened. She still held out hope that those large lumps under the carpet were not what she thought it was. Creeping closer to the lumps in the middle of the floor, she starts pulling the carpet. She drops the carpet when she finds her mother Abigail’s head separate in one spot and the rest of her body in pieces. There were other parts under there, too, but they were too chopped up to indentify who they belonged to. She sat there for over an hour, sobbing madly before getting the strength to make a call on her cell phone. She had to strain to get the thing out of her pocket. The smart phone that was a gift from her mother felt like a ton of bricks. She had to literally strain to put it to her face. Crying as she talked, the 911 worker tried to calm her down repeatedly to assist her. She finally gets through with the call and waited for what seemed like an eternity for police and medical assistance. She explained everything to police and became so excited that she had to be sedated herself.