Abuse of Chikara (book 1) (18 page)

The police would be here soon so it was time to jet. He could of course handle them, but did not want to waste the time. He wanted to pick and choose what battle he got into. That way he could make sure only evil people got his foot in their behinds. He finds a McDonalds is a few miles away and orders 25 Quarter Pounders, five orders of fries and a Coke. The young lady at the register is highly amused at the amount of food he is buying. She gets her female supervisor who cannot believe the order amount either. The supervisor has him repeat what he is ordering at least four times. They snicker like school girls while he comes up with a story to explain the amount of food. He is picking up this food for people at the office and not just himself. He leaves and quickly finds the closest sewer exit that would take him close to home. Wonder how hard those two restaurant workers would laugh if they knew this food was really all for him? He finally makes it home and goes through his stuff. Damn, they gave him a Diet Coke. He hates Diet Coke and any diet pop actually. Never got why people purchased fatty burgers and ordered a diet pop. Like that diet pop was going to offset all the other fattening shit you were eating. He wondered if that chick taking the order had put in the diet pop as a joke? What the hell, it really did not matter, as he still had a few two liters of regular pop around. He began shoving the burgers down his mouth like a starving man at a buffet table.

This was one of the cons of his newfound abilities. He had to eat far more than any normal human would. He had to eat a great deal, and often, to maintain his strength. He ate about 15 times a day and not just small smacks, but large meals. He would have to figure out something in the long run as constantly going out to get food had him out in the public too much. He had easily gone through the majority of the old foodstuff in the flea market quickly. Some long-term planning was definitely needed here at some point. He flicks on a small color TV he had found. Whoever it had belonged to had one of those converter boxes. He sat around watching TV and waiting for night-time to go prowling around for thugs to prey on. He decided to take a nap and start off well rested. He wakes up feeling rested and ready to go. Checking his watch briefly he is ready to go smack down some punks. The police would have a stronger presence around the Madison and Maypole area because of his abuse of Chuck and Lenny. He wondered what they had actually told their fellows officers. He somehow doubted they would include their attempted rape of the young girl.

He decided to go around Western and Madison to see what was popping. He decided to play with his super hearing some more. He leaps on top of a old one-story building next to a McDonald’s and lays down and begins to concentrate. This feeling would be hard to describe to anyone else. It was almost like an out-of-body experience, like floating on air and being a feather’s weight. He could actually see sound waves represented by strange symbols he didn’t recognize. Perhaps the symbols were in some other language he was unfamiliar with. By willing any symbol close to him, he could hear any person’s conversation from great distances. He would come out of the trance like state and hear them like they were sitting right next to him. The only issue was his hearing would go back to normal in 10 or 15 minutes. Perhaps he could extend the time with more practice.

It seems a young group of what sounds like white boys had decided to hang around in the hood and score some weed. He could hear them talking about how they were going to be hard-core gangsters, rob people and so on. He had seen the type before. Had actually arrested the type back when he was a cop. Most were silly teenagers who watched music videos and old gangster films all day. They had embraced the fantasy without understanding that these popular forms of entertainment only represented a fraction of real life. Most blacks were not driving around with extra large rims; gangbanging and smoking weed all day. Usually these kids grew out of it or met a bad end. These guys seemed like the later type. He debated killing them, but giving dirt naps to kids was something he did not want to make a habit of yet. These wannabe thugs still had time to change their ways. He would give these guys a little scare and a boot in the ass if need be. Shock some sense into them, so to speak. The only issue with the super hearing is that it did not tell him exactly where people were located. He had heard one of the kids talking about just seeing a basketball game. The United Center was his best guess, so he heads out towards Damen, running at super fast speed down Lake Street; he gets to Damen quickly. He finds five white teenage boys wearing baggy pants, caps and plenty of bling. He waited until they got on the Madison bus and he boarded as well. It was possible that they were just talking crap and would do nothing. He could hear them in the back of the mostly empty bus talking about whom they would rob or rape. They got off on Western and so did he. He walked past them and decided to give them a little test. He would give them an opportunity to show how “gangster” they really were.

“Damn, look at all this money I have. I hope no one decides to rob me and take my money. Let me count this money out loud so I know how much I got. Wow, I bet you could get a lot of prostitutes and video games with this money! What am I thinking one dude walking around by himself with no witnesses around? Hell, they do not even have any blue light cameras around here. I am glad no real gangsters are around here. Those dudes would totally pimp smack my ass and gangster this shit. Good thing there are no real gangsters around here.”

These five clowns, of course, take the bait as planned. It was not in doubt, though. Teenagers were not known for being the most mature people in the world. As far as teenagers from any race went, these were not exactly the most intelligent. You would not go broke betting on these guys being stupid. He started walking slower so the punks would not have to work too hard to catch up to him. He ducks into an alley on his left, which is a dead end. Even better now he just has to make sure they do not escape out the other end. The five punks enter the entrance of the alley, and two of them are brandishing handguns. A handgun would not do any damage to him, but he wanted to test his reflexes a bit. He could move at super fast speeds, but what about his accuracy and aiming. He pulls his own handgun with a motion that is a quick blur. It does not even register on the thugs’ minds that he has moved. He shoots both guns out of their hands. He was on them quickly knocking them around the alley like babies. He grabs two of them and slams their heads together. This was one of his favorite moves he had seen in many action films. One boy went down with a blow to the stomach and a backhand to the head from his right fist. The other two tried to run, but he grabbed them quickly and knocks them out with two light jabs. Since they wanted to rob him he decided to give them a taste of their own medicine; it would only be fair. He takes off their clothing, watches and jewelry. He even tears their underwear and socks.

After he’s done he stands back to admire his handiwork. It would be a shame to let all these nice clothes, cell phones and watches go to waste. He finds some homeless people on a nearby corner drinking, dancing and singing. He was in luck as there were five of them. He did not know if the stuff would fit, but that would be their problem to figure out. As expected, they were more than happy to take the clothing, money and other items. He throws the IDs down into a sewer grate and heads back. Following them at a distance, he can hardly contain himself. The five idiots try and hail a cab who, of course, refuses to let them sit in the cab with no clothing. Next they tried to get help from a group of guys hanging out on the corner a few blocks down. These guys just laughed at them and refused to help. Finally they stopped a bus driver who contacted the police. Of course, they had to deal with everyone on the bus laughing and jeering at them. He could see their body language and facial expressions. Having enhanced vision was a great thing. He could not help laughing as even the police made fun of them when they arrived on the scene. Who knows maybe this would be a wakeup call to these guys. Maybe they would remember this and avoid trouble in the future. Sometimes life taught us hard lessons, but it is up to us to learn from them. Some people did learn from their mistakes, but many did not. In any case, he started to head home to the flea market. This had been fun, but he needed to get back to business. He would get a good rest, and wake up in the morning to hunt gangbangers and crooked cops.

Bill had been calling Dirty Red for at least an hour now with no reply. It was not like Red to ignore him. Psycho Boy would get lost in some nonsense at times, but not Red. This was not his style at all. He hoped Red had not bitten off more than he could chew. It would be hard to replace someone like him. He was a guy who was intelligent, ruthless and loyal as well. He had to consider the possibility that Dudley Do-Right had gotten to Red. If that was the case, he would need to work faster. It would only be a matter of time before Quinton came for him. The former superintendent was picking off crooked cops left and right. Even with the police strike going on, he had not slowed down at all. There was talk of bringing in the National Guard to restore order. Would they try and deal with Quinton as well? For that matter, how strong was Quinton anyway? Most weapons they had used had not had much effect. Many police departments in big cities had weapons capable of taking down aircraft. Something like that might be strong enough to take down Dudley Do-Right. Using something like that would cause a great deal of problems for Bill, though. Quinton, despite his abnormal strength, was not a plane. How would one go about explaining the need to use something like that on a human? Not to mention Quinton frequented public places, which would make it more difficult to use. Large numbers of innocent people getting blown up would not help his chances of running for office. Running for office was something he had worked towards for years. First, maybe a few minor positions working for the mayor. He needed to build up his political credibility and experience. No, he would have to deal with Quinton using methods that would not, could not hurt his mindshare with the public. His carefully crafted image of a heroic officer could not be damaged under any circumstances. It had been over two hours since he had last tried calling Red. He was not the type to go into panic mode, but he wanted answers and he wanted them now. He decided to call all of Red’s buddies and check out some of his known hangout spots. Anything was better than sitting around wondering if something had happened.

Quinton was sitting around in the underground level of the flea market considering his next targets. He could pay his friend Bill a visit or maybe go after his crooked cop buddies. Maybe he’d teach some more punks a lesson. Bill was not going anywhere, so no real need to rush. He would have his revenge against that animal soon. The man was like a wild wolf or hyena. They always stayed around a source of food. This city was Bill’s source of food metaphorically speaking. Maybe it would be fun to drop in on old Bill, though. Reading the paper a particular article catches his eye. It seems that a number of women and children are being sold as human slaves still to this day. A number of gangs were involved in this as it is a great source of income. One of the biggest gangs in Chicago, the Street Captains, were big players in human trafficking. He already knows this from his time as police superintendent. While that job provided a wealth of information, it was not always easy proving the law was being broken.

They had always suspected the Street Captains of working with a few factory owners in the area to move and store slaves. Getting the warrants to search these places had been difficult. But by the time they did, all evidence was gone. Not to mention they no doubt had paid informants on the force leaking information about investigations. If not Bill or officers connected to him, then other crooked cops. Slavery was something that really pissed him off. As an American of African descent, it was something he was emotionally invested in. It was a form of abuse that he could appreciate more so than others. When he heard of Asian or Russian women being forced to clean or act as slaves, it moved him. He imagined his ancestors working in the hot fields, and being whipped in the back and dying. To think that we were still treating other humans like animals. No, it was worse than animals in some nations. He could not stop it everywhere, but he would stop in the places that he suspected it was taking place. There would be no waiting for a judge to approve a search warrant. No worrying about corrupt officers tipping off their buddies. No concern about following proper procedure or evidence being ruled inadmissible.

He would pay his Street Captain buddies a visit this fine morning and have a little chat about the issue. He headed out towards Pulaski and Cicero. There was a factory three blocks down on Cicero that they had always suspected of being used for human trafficking. This factory was not as big as the old Brach’s factory nor as old. It was painted all white and was much more modern looking. He walks up to the heavy wrought iron gate and pulls the gate apart. The gate was one of those mechanical ones that could be opened with the push of a button. The tall, stout African American guard cannot help but notice the black metal bars on the ground. Before hearing the loud sound of bending metal caused by Quinton, the guard had been soundly asleep. He did not much blame the guy. Who would have expected this to happen? The guard comes charging out of his booth with his gun drawn. He repeatedly glances over at the gate and back at Quinton. Quinton extends both his arms straight out and raises his eyebrow in a questioning facial expression. The guard puts his gun back in the holster and walks down the street.

“Man, fuck this shit, $12 bucks an hour is not worth this bullshit.”

The guard might alert the cops, but he doubted it. Even if they did come they would not be that much of a problem. More of a nuisance to be honest. He preferred to pick and choose his dealings with the police though. Walking into the driveway, he encounters four large pit bulls. He knocks three of them out with ease using a few kicks. Out of curiosity he lets the last pit bull bite his right leg. He had never been bitten by a dog before. Looking at the animal, he could see why this would be a terrible experience for many. The beast had torn his pants leg to shreds. It was amusing how the dog kept trying despite its lack of success. The dog chomped down hard on his leg and made a whimpering sound of pain as it broke the majority of its teeth. Even then it got back up with blood and saliva running out of its mouth, and it continued its attacks. He wondered how many sex slaves this dog had terrorized with his massive teeth. How many women had it mauled in its lifetime? Tired of his musings, he grabs the dog by the back of its neck and flings it behind him 20 feet. The sound of the animal hitting something makes a loud, wet thud like the sound of a large balloon popping. He reaches the door and knocks loudly on the large metal door. Someone finally comes to the door and looks at him through what is some type of peephole.