Chapter 1: Pilot

In a neighborhood filled with gang violence, shootings, and killing, I drove into this neighborhood and parked in front of a gray house in my white Toyota car. I got out of the car in my military uniform.

I was your typical American black guy-"tall with dreadlocks.

As I got out of the car, I lit my blunt. Then I puffed it, feeling irritated , I crushed my blunt on my car, which I had never done before.

I looked at the gray house and smiled, then I walked towards my truck and opened it. I looked inside and shook my head. What was inside brought back terrible memories.

Memories that would push a man to kill himself; many of my friends did.

I put on the body armor. It felt comfortable. I missed the feeling of protection it provided.

Then I put a Glock G17 in my holster. I strapped a knife to my ankle.

Then I grabbed my HK416, a gun that brought me to hell and back. I didn't have to grab ammunition because it was already on my body armor and it was already loaded.

Then lastly, I grabbed three grenades.

As I slowly walked up the steps of the gray house, I saw how the lawns were overgrown, how toys were scattered everywhere.

And lastly, I felt something that I had lost many years ago-"power. The intoxicating feeling of being above others.

The closer I got to the house, the louder the music playing and people shouting became. I knocked on the door, but nobody answered, so I knocked louder. Then I heard someone say, "Who the fuck is knocking? Just come in."

A black man opened the door.

Bang. I shot him in the head with my pistol. Blood splashed across my face. I was pretty close to him, and he was oblivious to what happened. I didn't give him even the slightest chance.

His body fell backward onto the floor. Someone screamed, and others cried out the guy's name.

Then I threw all the grenades into the house. Boom, boom, boom.

I raised my HK416 and took the safety off. I immediately looked at my blind spot on my left, behind the door. I saw someone grabbing something.

Bang, bang. The guy fell to the ground as blood poured out from his head and body.

I then entered the house fully, a blur flashed across the hallway. I didn't even need to see the person; I just fired.

Bang, bang. That blur got hit, and it tried to crawl across the floor, screaming as it saw how messed up its legs were.

"Please, man, please. I didn't do anything," he begged for his life.

I didn't listen to the man's plea. I was indifferent to his suffering. I had already made up my mind to kill everyone in this house. I looked dead in the man's eye and said, "Fuck you, nigga."

Bang. I shot him in the head. I heard someone say, "What is that?" from outside, but no one came to look.

Then I walked through the kitchen. I heard more noise coming from the backyard. The door was open too.

A whole family was enjoying a barbecue. Grandparents were playing with their grandson, the father was at the barbecue grill, while the mother was on her phone sitting down.

I looked at everyone and said, "Good evening, everyone. Sorry I am late."

I was jealous. They had something I didn't have. They had a family with grandchildren. I didn't have that.

Was I not going to kill them because of that? No, I had already walked this path.

Bang. The mother of the boy died first. Bang. The grandparents, who tried to cover the boy, died.

Bang, bang, bang, bang. I emptied my ammunition into the grandparents just to make sure they were dead with the body.

The father cried out and ran toward me in anger. Within a second, I pulled out my Glock and shot the guy in his kidney, where he could bleed out while watching his family die.

The father dropped on the grass on his side while holding the spot where he got hit and started screaming and crying over his family. I looked at him and said, "Don't be a bitch."

Bang. I shot him in his legs so that he wouldn't go anywhere. He screamed out in pain while cursing me.

He didn't fear me anymore; he had lost everything. And I understood him deeply. I was like him. I had lost everything: my daughter, wife, friend, and lastly, myself.

I turned around and left him to die, then went back to the house and walked upstairs.

I reloaded my Glock as I looked at the pictures of the wall. I entered every room except one, that was the furthest from me.

"That must be his room," I concluded. I opened the door and saw the man who raped my daughter lying on his bed, masturbating while watching porn with headphones. He didn't even know I was there, and his family was dead.

I sighed in pain and grabbed the chair I saw in front of the computer table, making myself comfortable.

Bang! Conor shot his daughter's rapist in the arm. He cried out, not understanding how he got shot.

"Aaaaahh, aaah, it hurts, it fucking hurts," he cried out in pain. His dick was out while holding his bloodied shoulder.

"I know," Conor said in a calm tone. "That's why I chose to shoot you, you see. I tried my best not to do this. I tried to stay away from this."

"But, you fucking had to rape her. She was all I had, you see," I shouted with anger.

Bang! I shot his dick off. He screamed even more while trying to grab the remains of his dick.

"You took her from me. I did everything I went to therapy, took drugs, went to church. I even tried to kill myself, but it didn't work."

Bang! Bang!

"No, no, no, I was innocent. It wasn't me," Wayne cried, choking on his blood.

"But then I thought, why the fuck should I suffer alone?" I said while pointing the gun at my head.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Isn't it fun to suffer with me?" I smiled while looking into Wayne's eyes. He didn't hear any reply.

Then it hit me, Wayne wasn't screaming anymore. He was dead.

"Dead, already?" I said in a sad tone. I felt empty but filled. My heart didn't ache anymore. I could die peacefully now.

Conor then took out another blunt, lit it, and started to smoke.

Bang! Conor blew his brains out.

Conor William. An ex-military soldier, captain of Dark Horse. A father, a husband, a friend, and a son. Murdered 2 grandparents, 1 grandson, 4 sons.

He killed himself on October 19, 2021.