[ITS GONNA BE A REVOLUTION] BLACK OPS PART TWO
THE SOUNDTRACK...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_8xJupkpU6s&feature=share&list=PL24cV6IIynrbGXkQgNgG2F3TXnvA3mgS4
At this point the man stops and pulls a bag from the table sitting next to him and takes some buds of weed out. He asks me if I smoke and I nod yes.
He splits a blunt and fills it with the weed and lights it and as the aroma of the weed reaches me I realize that it is loud. You know... some of that good shit.
He passes it to me and for the next few minutes we talk as we smoke, passing the blunt back and forth.
He ask's me what made me look for him and I tell him that I heard of him from the streets. His name is legend. Yet every time I asked for details no one could or would give them to me. Eventually I decided that it would be smarter to come to the source than to listen to other people anyway.
We finish the blunt and he begins to talk again. I sit back and turn on the recorder back on.
After my first kill It was a while before I killed again.
I joined the army and learned everything I could about war, about how to be a real soldier.
I have always been able to absorb just a little more from things that seem to elude other people and I really was a decent soldier.
I received numerous commendations and awards but it seemed military life was not meant for me.
I was released and came home to a situation worse than any you could imagine.
Crack.
It was everywhere and everywhere I looked it had ripped holes in my community.
I watched as the young men in my community became drug dealers and in a lot of instances got hooked.
I watched as the young sisters and daughters of my friends got hooked and started tricking.
In time I met a drug dealer who became my friend and he knew that I had been in the army and he approached me about protection.
I accepted his offer and soon I was meeting the real players in the drug game.
Doctors, lawyers and politicians. Car dealers and contractors who built mansions that housed the rich.
I dropped payments off and picked up drugs from the drop off points. By this time I was seeing the true nature of things and it was bothering me.
I was conflicted.
I would go home and smoke weed and listen to music and try to ignore the voice inside me that was telling me that I could do something about this situation.
One morning I opened the paper and the picture on the front of it made me stop and stare.
I had not seen her in years and in a way I had forgotten about her consciously but not in my subconscious. I sat down and started to read the story and the rage in me made me jump up and walk back and forth.
She was dead... somebody had to pay.
I met her in high school and she was dark skinned and so fucking beautiful it almost hurt to look at her, I had some classes with her and we became friends. I never had sex with her but just being her friend helped me with other girls.
I sat down and continued to read the story over and over again.
Her head had been cut off and she was found in the back of a building in a drug area where I kind of hung out. I knew that this was a message because I had never really seen her there.
My mind just works like that you know?
I sat there and digested the information and perused on it.
Flipped it back and forth in my mind.
All day I thought it over as I went about and I heard things from the people that I came into contact with.
It was a hit.
She had been a mule and she had pissed some people off. They suspected that she was a snitch and had ordered her murder.
There were rumors that the men who had killed her were from Miami, there were a lot of dealers from Miami here at one time and they pretty much had their hands deep into the drug trade.
That night I went to the club and spread a little money around with the girls in the club. You know the type, the girls who fucked the drug dealers and big ballers.
Party girls.
I met one and she really dug me so I took her home and fucked her and during the course of the night I continued to feed her cocaine habit and she filled my ears.
I took mental notes and the next morning I went home and started to make phone calls, by the end of the day I knew where to begin.
THAT NIGHT....
I stood on the street corner and pulled on the blunt as I watched the dudes on the other corner as they bullshitted around and listened as their pagers went off.
As the junkies walked up and bought their drugs and hustled off.
I was wearing dark clothes but that seemed to be the norm around here.
well time to get this show on the road I thought and stepped away from the curb and started to pull the hood down on my face.
I was in their midst the before they knew it and the two Walther 9 mm's begin to speak for me.
I shoot everyone who is out there and I intentionally shoot one of them in his right shoulder. he is right handed. I saw that from across the street. The girl that is out there starts to scream and it seems to become a part of the music of the night.
When I am finished 5 dudes lay dead and the girl is still screaming. I walk over to the dude i shot in the shoulder and tie his hands and I stand and say. "Bitch shut up." I say it calmly and she shuts the fuck up.
I walk over to her and I tell her "You did not see a fucking thing."
She nods and I take the roll of hundreds from my pocket and hand it to her. She bends and picks up her purse and tales off her heels and runs off into the night.
I grab dude by his arm and hustle him away as lights start to come on in the houses on the street.
I take him along the path that I laid out earlier in the day and we disappear into the trees and I hustle him along. He is in shock so he complies completely. We come out of the trees and I open the trunk of the car and his eyes grow wide.
I slap him with the Walther that I holding in my hand and he falls back into the trunk of the car.
I drive out of the city and soon I am at the country road where I am going. I turn in and park behind the house and walk in and light the lamps in the basement and put a lamp on my head and go out to the car and open the trunk.
He is awake and his eyes are wide.
I reach in and help him out and take him into the house and push him down the stairs into the basement.
I strap him to the steel chair and walk out.
I will be back tomorrow.
JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY
