“These niggas must’ve forgot I squeeze triggers, how they gon’ play me this way. I been puttin’ it down since 1989 and there’s no way, a new boot ass nigga gon’ move on my turf trying to change shit,” Bulletproof growled.
Mike Wilson AKA Bulletproof was born into inferiority, but as time moved forward, he became quicker, more masculine, and a stone-cold killer. Noticing he was being raised in a lost society, Mike realized it was time to turn things around. And that began with his parents. A two-parent home often meant security and strength. But Mike’s home life wasn’t secure or ordinary. They were passive with no hope in life. Their honor to the white man-made Mike hate the ground whites walked on. As time passed, he grew to despise his mother and father too.
Rage consumed a 16-year-old Mike daily during school hours. There were days he’d get up and leave school because he could feel hatred growing inside of him. Fights wasn’t nothing to him. Whooping two or three white kids a week was an occasional pastime. The administrators and teachers of Long-Hall High in Longview, TX became tired of Mike Wilson’s behavior. So, the day principal Watkins caught him skipping class, he escorted him to the office. Watkins’s fat pale stubby fingers dialed Mike’s parents’ numbers, as if they knew it by memory. Voicemail as usual, they were always working.
“Mr. and Mrs. Wilson, this is Principal Watkins at Long-Hall High. I’m calling to inform you of Mike’s habitual skipping. I have no choice but to suspend him for 3 days. Please return my call at your convenience.”
To solidify his departure from Long-Hall, Mike hawked up the biggest loogie he could and hurtled it into the principal’s face, then ram-shacked his office. Watkins’s faced turned redder than tomato paste from anger and terror. Despite what was boiling inside of him, he never cried out for the SRO’s on campus. Pulling a hanky from his pocket to wipe the spit from his face. He realized Mike was on the road to death or prison like many other street kids before.
Mike’s walk home was so peaceful, it was like God was having a special conversation with him. That conversation dissipated into silence. What he’d see when he arrived home would change his life and name forever. As he got closer to home, he saw the strangest thing…. the insurance guy’s car parked in front of the house. Now, Mike had skipped school enough times to know he’d never seen the insurance company at his house this early. He didn’t want to hear his folks bitching about school. To avoid being seen, he crept around back to enter through the kitchen door. Once Mike entered the house, he could hear a whining sound come from the living room. He eased to the door separating the kitchen and living room, eavesdropping on voices he’d never hear again. He began cracking the door so he could see what was happening. Mike’s father stood 6’2 with 210 lbs. on him. Yet, Mike always thought he was softer than a baby’s behind. What he heard and saw revealed even worse. He overheard the insurance man, Mr. Wallace.
“It’s been six months Mr. Wilson and you haven’t paid a dime.”
Before Mike’s dad could blink, the white man landed a slap so loud across his face people miles away could hear it. Mike couldn’t believe his mutha fuckin’ eyes!
“Please, Mr. Wallace, I’ll have your money soon,” begged Mr. Wilson.
“That won’t be necessary. I’m tired of waiting on you black ass nigger. Get me that hound bitch… you call your wife… in here on all fours, now,” Mr. Wallace demanded.
Mike mouthed, “What the fuck!?!”
He couldn’t believe what he was witnessing, tears formed in his eyes like a waterfall. He couldn’t believe the man who gave him life was such a bitch ass nigga. Then his eyes widened as he watched his mom come enter the room.
“You look nice for a darky.”
Mr. Wallace strokes her slim, petite face.
“But here we go again your dumbass husband hasn’t paid the insurance in six months. And I’ve come to collect my money little lady or I’m going to have to ride your pretty ass like a bull,” Mr. Wallace mocked.
Mike watched with anticipation. Deep down inside, he knew one of them would say something to this white shithead. They never uttered a word of defense. As he looked on, he grew weak at the knees while his mother spoke, “Now Mr. Wallace, I paid you-”
He’d knocked the hell out of her before she could finish speaking.
Mr. Wallace hissed, “You black bitch, don’t ever try to insult me like that again. Now assume the position I want you on your knees.”
“Please let’s go to the bedroom,” cried Mrs. Wilson.
Mike’s father looked on like the coward he was, not moving or trying to defend his wife. That’s all it took. Mike was about to earn his rank among the elite in criminal history. He couldn’t take anymore! Quietly making his way upstairs to his room, eyes still filled with tears. He opened his drawer and pulled out a loaded black Glock 9 mm with twelve rounds. His gun stayed loaded with one in the chamber at all times just in case he needed to use it. He stayed ready.
“Nah, bitch, I want mines done right here in front of this monkey you call a husband, now get down on your knees to master and pay your bills tramp,” Mr. Wallace growled.
Mrs. Wilson knew she couldn’t do anything about what was happening. Wallace’s father was the county criminal judge; if she told or tried to run, he’d hurt her family, and no one would do anything about it. She gazed back at her husband. He’d zoned out to another world. Mr. Wallace unfastened his brown leather belt from around his boney waist and dropped his khaki pants to his ankles. He began priming his-self up for those soft black lips. Mrs. Wilson fell to her knees, took one hand, and grabbed the white man’s tiny pink penis. She wept as she massaged it and stuck it in her mouth. Her husband must’ve died on the spot because he never moved a muscle. As she sucked Wallace’s cock in front of her husband, tears continued to roll down her face, but Mr. Wallace didn’t care he only shoved it further down her throat.
Mike couldn’t believe what he was seeing as he crept back down the stairs behind Mr. Wallace. Mrs. Wilson could feel Wallace tensing up. She believed this nightmare was almost over. He was about to cum in her mouth. Then she heard Mr. Wallace gulp.
“Don’t shoot me little man.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Mike growled.
Terrified and embarrassed, his mom ran to the arms of her cowardly husband and watched their young son become a crazed lunatic in a split second.
“Please little man, I can fix this. I have money,” Mr. Wallace begged.
“Well, hand it over.
Slowly opening the bank bag, Wallace grabs 10,000 in cash and throws it towards Mike.
Wallace smirked, “Now let me go and I’ll fix all this.”
“I know you can fix it like my mom fixed you, huh.” Mike grumbled with his gun still pointed at Wallace.
“Little man, I hate to break the news… but your mom been like that, she was born to-”
Mrs. Wilson screamed in horror as two bullets pierced through Wallace’s head and one into his frail chest. His father continued to stare into space as fragments of Wallace’s brain splattered across his stupid looking face.
“Mike, what have you done,” his mom whimpered?
“I’ve killed a devil.” Mike replied with disgust all over his face.
She drops to her knees and begins praying.
“Lawd I come to you asking for forgiveness. Forgiveness of our iniquities.”
She grabs her son’s hand. “Pray with me please, son”, she begs.
“That won’t be needed of me but when ya dumbass make it to heaven tell God I sent you.”
She looked death in the face, as her son shot her and his worthless dad once between the eyes. They laid lifeless along with the white devil. After the disgrace he’d witnessed their services, we no longer needed upon this earth; from this day forward Mike became Bulletproof. There were no witnesses to the murders, and it remains unsolved. Mike went to live with his aunt on the Northside of Longview. Life will never be the same for Mike Wilson. He was a gangster on the rise. Mike Wilson doesn’t exist anymore.
TEN YEARS LATER
A new crew, The St. Lunatics, was in town and they were getting on Bulletproof’s last nerve; they wouldn’t stop invading his turf. It took years for him to gain control of that zone. Money was leaving Bulletproof and moving their way faster than the speed of light. These young dudes had them bricks for cheap. Stopping them was a top priority before Bulletproof was out of business and money.
Pacing the Warlord’s warehouse floor, Bulletproof brainstormed on how to get rid of these St. Lunatics niggas.
“Bproof, why won’t you call the Ax-man to handle these suckers,” Money D asked.
Money D was a high-ranking member of the Warlords; second in command to Bulletproof. He’s the only one that could make a suggestion that stood a chance of being heard.
“Fuck that nigga Ax, he’s loony and can’t be trusted; he works for that highest bidder,” Bulletproof explained as he continued to pace the floor.
The Southside rolled hard for the past decade; Bulletproof battled his way to the top like all the other gangs of the South. He worked night and day for his pride. The Southside was all he knew; that alone stayed in his heart. The St. Lunatics were from the west. They came in with an iron fist, trying to take his heart away. He would never allow that to happen.
They call themselves the St. Lunatics because if you got in their way; they stopped you where you lay, by any means.
Prior to the St. Lunatics, the Warlords had the Southside locked down. But all that changed the night dope fiend, Stargo met one of the St. Lunatics by I-20. From the moment they touched down in Texas, they were dropping some kind of ‘Wonder Dope’ on dope fiend Stargo. His first taste of the ‘Wonder Dope’ levitated him to heights unimaginable, like he was floating on a Molly Meth high. That’s all it took for him to move them into the South, not thinking it would get him killed. They set up shop fast. Stargo brought all the traffic to the new crew. All the smokers-the dope fiends didn’t care where their hit from long as they was getting high, that ‘Wonder Drug’ was so damn good, that’s all they wanted! They were walking around the Southside like Pookie from ‘New Jack City’, ‘it was callin’ me man.”
Bulletproof called for the head of whoever brought these niggas to his turf. Rule number 1 don’t fuck with Bulletproof’s turf. Rule number 2 never lie to him. Finding the person responsible for the St. Lunatics was easy with a little investigating. Stargo’s name was echoing in the streets, and he wasn’t hard to find. Lazy, one of Bulletproof’s foot soldier’s, was chilling in his new whip at the corner store on South High, rolling a blunt when he spotted Stargo. He watched as he went into the store. Lazy grabbed his 9 mm from the glove compartment and waited at the door for Stargo to exit. The moment he did, Lazy drew down on him.
“Don’t move you bitch ass snake,” Lazy demanded.
Stargo’s paper sack wrapped can of beer exploded as it hit the ground. He stuttered as he crept to the side of the building.
“Wh… wha… what are you doing, Lazy? I… I… I… I got some people who want to meet Bulletproof,” Stargo continued to stutter.
“You know Bulletproof don’t talk to strangers or allow strangers in the hood. So, you got one chance to live by taking me to these fools you just got killed,” Lazy commanded.
Washington St. was deep in the South. You never went back there without your heat ‘cause it could be your last dance with the devil but Lazy controls this part of the South. This was his area! So, he had to checkmate these niggas before Bulletproof found out and take care of him. Washington wasn’t far from the corner store, so Lazy and Stargo made their way to the hot spot in the South. Stargo went to the door first. His ashy black knuckles knocked four times rapidly, pausing two seconds, followed by 3 slow knocks to the door, a special code knock. Lazy stayed hidden close to the tree in the front yard Stargo looked back at him and waved for him to enter the house. Once inside, there were four mean looking ass men with semi-automatics grasped in their hands, ready to blast any mutha fucka stepping in wrong. Fear filled every inch of Lazy’s body, but he swallowed that fear in the pit of his stomach and held his ground.
Lazy growled, “First you niggas got 24 hours to out my city. Second, where you suckas from? And last but not least, why the fuck you choose the wrong hood to die in?”
Lil Kenny stepped forward. He was in charge of the trap, and special to Lt. Jones on the West coast. Lil Kenny earned his rank and was a stone-cold killer.
“Stupid ass nigga, I think you better look around. You think you can just come up in my spot talking all gangsta.”
Looking at the odds, Lazy realized he’d walked into a trap.
Lil Kenny continued, “First you should never bring loud manners to a King’s home. Second, you’re not the one running this city that’s Bulletproof. And third always remember that your mother, truly, loves you and hopes God got a place for you in his playground.”
Now kill this clown,” Lil Kenny instructed.
Before Lazy could pull his Glock, it was like Desert Storm, but quieter because the silencers eased the noise as bullets pierced through Lazy’s body. They cut him into pieces, sending his head to his mother and legs to Bulletproof.
From that day forward, the St. Lunatics and the Warlords were at each other’s heads.
Lazy’s death started a non-stop battle between the Warlocks and St. Lunatics. Bodies were dropping like flies. Both empires were gaining new soldiers and making bundles of money.
Bulletproof had no conscious about who he slaughtered. All he wanted was the St. Lunatics leader, Lt. Jones. Jones was always on point or a step ahead of Bulletproof.
Knowing the smartest guy would win this battle, taking control of the entire city. He cultivated the perfect plan for revenge and peace happily ever after.
“The Mayor and Police Chief are coming down hard on us. Too many killings. It has to stop. So, this is the plan…”
No one understood Bulletproof’s plan. And no one dared to question it. They followed suit.
The Warlords kidnapped a St Lunatic’s foot-soldier, tied his hands and feet, gagged him, and sat him in a stash house on Boot Hill. Then waited for Bulletproof to arrive before they tortured this clown. Bulletproof appeared like magic in the house: cocked, loaded, and ready. As the foot-soldier sat, he showed no signs of fear, like he was brain-washed by the devil himself. Bulletproof ordered them to ungag him.
“Kill me because I have nothing to say to neither of you dead people.”
Bulletproof smiled at the comment.
“You don’t have to speak, just listen because I have a message.”
“What is it, Ghost?”
Bulletproof wanted to kill this dude so bad his stomach turned, but he knew that would ruin his plans. Instead, he slapped the shit out of him with the same Glock he murder his parents with.
“I’m not gon’ kill you today because I feel you’ll make the right judgement. All I want, is for you to tell your boss that I want to have a sit down and end all these senseless killings. Plus, I need some of that product he has. Can I trust you to get that message to him for me?”
The hostage agreed, “I can do that.”
And like that, they returned him to the spot they took him from. Being a man of his word, he called Lt. Jones told him about the kidnapping and what Bulletproof said. This message puzzled Lt. Jones.
“You mean to tell me he wants to sit down with me.”
“That’s it, and he gave me a number for you to call when you’re ready,” Mook replied.
Lt. Jones was so excited he didn’t know how to react. “What’s the number?”
Thinking the boss was out of his mind. But not stupid enough to question. He handed him the number. Lt. Jones gazed at it with a smile on his face. Now his plan could begin.
Leaving the stash house Money D told Bulletproof, “Out of five years I never saw you fold to nobody.”
“Just sit back and enjoy the ride because this city is mine. My plan will work nigga. So, you just try not to get killed in the process,” Bulletproof gloated.
Money D didn’t know how to respond, plus the wrong words could bring death to his doorsteps.
So, whatever Bulletproof had planned, no one would ever know.
Meanwhile, the police station was jammed packed with non-violent offenders. They were simply giving fines and putting them back on the streets, but that wasn’t the issue. The issue was the deaths across the city and that new drug floating around. So, the Chief called a meeting with his task force and the Narc Division.
“We need put an end to the low lifes responsible for the recent homicides. And this new wonder drug floating around on the streets. I’ve got the Mayor riding my ass and the FEDS riding it harder! I do not want the mother fucking FEDS coming into my city, like we’re not in control of it.”
He mirrored from his laptop images of Bulletproof, Money D, Lt. Jones, and Lil Kenny onto the projector screen.
“It’s time to chop the heads off these St. Lunatics and Warlord mother fuckers. Put our best guys on the inside.”