Motivate Life Presents Killa Company Sons Fraternal Organization of Made Men

By F. William Douglass II

My Parents became enraged by the white supremacist agenda. They were infuriated that Americans felt perilous because of their beliefs or skin color. They were outraged about the horrendous massacre of innocent men, women and children on the street and in their own homes. This fueled the fire for them to join an organization focused on the destruction of racism, poverty and disease and become assassins known as Killa Company Sons, targeting white and black supremacists. I soon followed. My name is Lorimore Bower and this is the first journey through my childhood and what molded me into becoming a Killa Company Son.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 6, 2020
• ISBN: 9781664121997

Book preview

Motivate Life Presents

Killa Company Sons Fraternal

Organization Of Made Men

F. William Douglass II

Copyright © 2020 by F. William Douglass II.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 08/11/2020

Xlibris

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Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Phobia, an extreme or intense fear of something that, in truth, poses little or no substantial danger, which concludes that racism is a mental illness, which, when not cured, produces hate.

—SOTHI

After my sunrise meditation, I reflect on what I have observed the day prior; and honestly each soul I have encountered, their best friend can be their best friend for life or become their killer; and sometimes this happens accidentally on purpose.

—Andarr Espectro

A fraternal organization of made men where every member got hazed in amen you can’t understand how I think I live a different type of life I don’t sleep I don’t blink a table full of drinks I smell like new money mixed with the marijuana stink.

—Lorimore Bower

Listen to me, they used us for target practice. If you want to be the ones to allow our children to get murdered because of someone’s career choice, then you live in the dark! Not me! I’m tearing their heads off!

—550

Chapter 1

INTRODUCTION OF COREY

Eddie? Oh wow, and Mr. James? I am so happy you could make it. Ms. Slinci, please take their coats. And once again, thank you, Ms. Slinci, for everything that you do. Please, gentlemen, come in. Grab a beverage or some liquor. I had some Richard Hennessy cognac, but get whatever you want. We have edibles at that bar over to the right and to the left a buffet of food from different countries, so feel free to have what you want, then take a seat, and get comfortable. I was just about to start, Corey tells Eddie and Mr. James in his tailored all-black three-piece suit. He then gets onstage, adjusts his mic on the podium, and speaks.

"Now that everyone is here, let me formally reintroduce myself. I am Corey Score or, as some of my colleagues call me, the man with one thousand lives because I was assassinated multiple times by that coward Lorimore Bower, who was given the orders by another coward known as 550 and his wife, Cream. However, I am once again alive and well. Your presence is appreciated. Welcome to the Phantom Company.

"You were chosen by a faction of master clairvoyants because you realize there is no future with the SOTHI. We understand you want those who hate our people wiped from existence and treat them as they treated us. We understand your pain.

"My students, always remember the founders of New America on Ayanad have built concentration camps. They are trying to form the same one-sided system on this beautiful planet. Every year in places the Supreme Group call the new devil’s punch bowl at least 29,000 Race War slaves are slaughtered. Women and children are poisoned or starved to death, and the men are forced to work until they pass out and die!

"At one of the lowest moments in my life, I was asked a mind-blowing question, and I remember it vividly. It was on my birthday, and my birthday gift was being beaten by the guards then thrown into my cell. Yes, I spent my birthday locked up in a Supreme Group prison for trying to free race-war slaves from the devil’s punchbowl.

"My cellmate knew I was the man with one thousand lives. He knew the war I was fighting and what I was trying to accomplish by being a secret member of the Phantom Company. My cellmate was a chef and made four red velvet cheesecake cupcakes with the ingredients he teleported from the kitchen using his powers and then made the cupcakes with his bare hands with no oven or tools once again using his powers. I was so touched. He then said he had a question to ask me, and his question was, how do you destroy a race of people?

"My response was to learn the basics of what has been done on Earth for centuries, so I gave him the first ten rules on how to destroy a race from Earth’s greatest terrorists ever. I asked him why he wanted to know this before I gave them to him. He told me why. I cannot reveal to you the reason at this time, but just know that it blew my mind, so I told him. He is one of us and is now a high-ranking officer in the Phantom Company.

"So what I told Level 7 Officer Getiv is, first—and most important—destroy their dreams. Whatever race, species, planet, dimension, it is, it does not matter. Your first step is to destroy their dreams. Make them want to live your race’s or species’ dreams.

"Two, force them to hate what their race or species creates and force them to love what your race or species creates. Convince them their culture is bad and yours is good. Even if they do what is it you do, you must force them to believe what you do is right, but if they do it, it is wrong.

"Three, anything they create, you force them to think your race created it first. Four, steal their history and learn every detail as if you are the one who created it all. Rewrite it and never lose their truth, but the revised truth must be in your favor. It will come in handy.

"Five, hide the truth of their history from the world but even more from your people, especially the beauty and talent of their people. If they know their history and power, they will have faith and hope, and that becomes a problem. Remember, you are their God. They must always believe this.

"Six, you slowly reteach their history to the world as if you were there. Even if you know you were not, however, make them praise you for teaching them their history. If anyone from their land tries to teach them the truth of their history, you make those people look crazy and paint them being liars and frauds.

"Seven, recreate their powerful figures into images of you. Eight, emasculate the men and force women to become both parents. Destroy the father, forcing the woman to depend on false knowledge. Nine, procreate. However, stop their race from reproducing. If they do reproduce, make them feel guilty for having children as if it is a sin or immoral and dirty. Ten, force them to live in poverty by making it hard for them to make a living. Give them poison to sell, which will give them an abundance of profit, but make it illegal to sell. In return, they put themselves in slavery and under your control.

"These are the ten rules I told him, and this is the beginning of the basics. On Earth, billions of people have done this. Now they want to force this on Ayanad.

We are the Collision Empire of Phantom Companies. We are children of melanin, we know the true agenda, and everyone else are our pawns. The Klan will not take over this planet. This was a speech from Corey Score to his new recruits who recently joined the Phantom Company.

WHO IS LORIMORE BOWER?

Lorimore Bower is an assassin for the SOTHI organization for the planets of Earth, Ayanad, and its moon Aryk. Lorimore is in a section of the SOTHI known as the Killa Company Sons. Lorimore puts his all into the things and people he loves. This is the first book about a man who changes worlds.

Please enjoy.

Signed,

Espectro Management

INTRODUCTION OF 550 AND CREAM

Slowly get up, put down the compass, and get against the wall doctor Akbakduma! 550 hollered with a raspy voice at surgeon Akbakduma as she sat at her desk with tears rolling down her cheeks, clutching a golden square compass with all her might.

I see your SOTHI obligation means nothing to you. Recia told me you were a piece of shit! She wanted to strip you of your melanin, put you in the tropics, and hunt you down. I asked her why. She just responded to watch you and didn’t want to tell me why. Now we see why. You’re a traitor! So you are a Melanated Klanswoman. Did they get to fuck you? Is that how you got in? 550 screams as saliva flies out of his mouth. Dr. Akbakduma ignores 550 and remains calm, admiring the brushstrokes of her mother’s portrait painted by Crem Fuxwe, a student at the Kevin Scott Kosme (Cosme) Art Foundation.

Akbakduma refuses to turn around and hands over the golden square compass, an instrument that, when programmed properly, can find anything or anyone anywhere in the universe. 550 and Cream both know her since their Young Elder Academy days; and at one time, they were close friends.

The doctor screams, Blacks are weak and need to join the KKK to stay alive! After she said it, Cream had this did that bitch just say that shit expression on her face. As Dr. Akbakduma sits in her Kennedy cabinet chair, Cream slowly walks up to her executive desk and spins her around using the powers embedded in her taqa ring.

Cream is using a platinum and diamond taqa ring worn on her right middle finger. It was blessed with powerful energy known as Fu Shier Dian. Cream uses the ring to turn the doctor around to face her. She slowly lifts her out of her chair, removes the gold square compass from her hand, and places it on the doctor’s desk. Cream slams the doctor on the floor and pushes her into a dusty corner twelve feet diagonally across from a tall black metal safe with an emblem of a dragon standing on a pile of human bodies that appear to be of African descent.

550 is very upscale in his vantablack Brioni tuxedo. He has a disgusted expression on his flawless dark-chocolate face. His nostrils flare, which intensified his malicious smile as he casually strolls over to his wife and stands next her. 550 finds pleasure in observing Cream get a high when focused on her dirty work.

Cream is dangerously perfect in her all-vantablack skin-tight Muubaa leather motorcycle ensemble. Dr. Akbakduma—who is five feet nine, 150 pounds, with a beautiful vanilla-bean complexion—is in a dusty corner twelve feet diagonally across from the tall black metal safe and is sweating profusely. She tries to move. She tries to talk but cannot. Cream’s ring stops her spine and brain from functioning.

550 steps over to the Kosme KCG7143F-Q 12-IS burglary- and fireproof safe, opens up his flexible onyx aluminum duffel bag, and pulls out a pair of charcoal-colored cashmere-lined leather gloves with snow-white fingertips. The fingertips are coated with 864 trillion atom-sized microchips programmed to separate molecules of any metallic substance.

550 claps his hands together, puts them on the safe, leans on it as if he is about to do a wall pushup, mumbles his daily prayer, and the gloves explode with light. The red steel-and-chromium safe bends in. Akbakduma is shaking. Cream screams at her, So you want to betray the SOTHI? You must really love the Klan!

550 then stands upright, claps his hands three times, and smiles when the white fingertips glow neon red. He touches the bent metal. His fingertips turn brighter as the metals melt away. A hole 0.9144 meters in diameter and 0.3048 meters deep is created. 550’s gloves glow neon green when he puts his hand into the hole, and the light gets brighter when he pulls out the titanium briefcase.

You shouldn’t have this. You know that, right? Why do you have this? 550 asks the doctor. Besides the golden square compass Cream took from her, the doctor has another one inside the briefcase along with three milliliters of blood from Joshua Mohammed, one of Ayanda’s prophets, and three solid hologram maps.

550, with a Denzel stride, walks over to the doctor’s desk and picks up the other golden square compass and puts it in the briefcase. 550 then walks over to the sixteen-foot-tall window three feet away from the safe to look outside for any threats. He hears someone holler Die! and the lab’s front door is kicked in. 550 quickly moves and throws the black duffel bag by the leg of the silver metal lab table.

An ugly tall chubby woman dressed in a gray pinstripe business suit runs in and fires at 550 with a 357 Magnum. 550 dodges the bullets and ducks behind the lab table full of dark matter and nuclear science experiments.

The six-foot-seven-inch woman continues to fire at 550. Cream yells out, Ignite! While 550 is being shot at, Cream’s ring releases a bright big red light. The whole room illuminated slightly, impairing 550’s vision; and Dr. Akbakduma’s head split wide open.

550 draws his Desert Eagle sonic handgun from his holster and runs toward the duffel bag. He picks it up and the briefcase; but before he can let his gun blow, the whole room turns silent like the world is on mute. After four seconds, the light fades away; and the sound resumes. He sees Cream outside the lab in the hallway screaming, Let’s go! Whoever tried to murder them is on the floor, with her face crushed in, soft and mushy. Cream shot her in the nose with her 45-caliber high-temp sonic handgun. 550 goes in his duffel bag and pulls out a bloody Klansman hood stuffed inside the loop of a strangle-snare noose and throws it on the floor as a symbol from the SOTHI to the Klan.

TWO YEARS, FIVE MONTHS, AND FOUR DAYS LATER

Eddie’s armed guards, in all garnet-red bulletproof clothing, leave their security booths and walk onto the space shuttle runway built from Ayanad burgundy light. They stand side by side; and each let off four rounds from their .500 S&W Magnum, signaling the air space is clear.

The eight mini-engines on the equipped old-school 2042 black-on-black four-seat Lamborghini ignite. The roar is as loud as three sets of jet engines. The ground shakes, and the runway ground lights up. After twenty seconds, the engines turn silent, the Lamborghini rises vertically off the floor, illuminates, smoothly takes off into the dusky sky, and glows so intensely that the vehicle appears to turn into a ball of bright white light. It shoots off disappearing into the clouds almost resembling the second sun of Ayanad.

Eddie’s gunmen give secret hand signals to Shamsi, the headmaster of their lodge, before he speaks, "Since our friend refuses to give us a golden square compass and the whereabouts of the child, he needs to die! He needs to suffer! Open up his coffin! Fill it with meat sauce! Then! Fill it with snakes! Then fill it with rats! Mr. Lorimore Bower looks lonely and needs some company!" Mr. Shamsi Odunbaku, a short Japanese man, screams in his high-pitched voice as he looks at Eddie; and they both laugh.

WHO IS LORIMORE BOWER?

My name is Lorimore Bower. I am a member of the Society of the Highly Intelligent and an agent of the Killa Company Sons. In my organization, certain people are given the right to murder anyone they chose including other members of our organization.

However, this is why I am now motionless inside a sarcophagus with an oak core. They pry open up my filthy coffin; and I hear music, fireworks, seagulls, heavy machinery, laughter, men, and women talking happily in Japanese, Arabic, French, and Creole. I hear waves hitting the rocks at some juncture by the ocean’s shore. Kill him! I hear men and women repeatedly chanting in different accents as others laugh, cheer, and whistle. It sounds like one big party as I scream for my life when they pour steaming-hot meat sauce over my bruised, naked body; wait for it to cool; and then add the enormous starving winged snakes and cat-sized two-headed rats. The reptiles and rodents eat the meat sauce and viciously attack each other.

Before they close and seal my coffin, I smell the salty sea air, Mr. Odunbaku’s cigar smoke, and the foul, malodorous mixture of my sweat and blood. The rancid smell of decomposing fish is so thick in the air that I can taste it. They close my sarcophagus. I feel them picking me up off the white marble chip ground and moving me somewhere. I have no idea where I am, but I know where I’m going.

Mr. Odunbaku, a portly yellow-complexioned man with post-inflammatory hyperpigmentation and acanthosis nigricans that covered his whole face—is now the headmaster of Lodge Jacob and Matthew and the superior chief of the Wives of Elegance and Danger. He brutally murdered past master superior chief Elegance and past master superior chief Danger while they were on the other side (Ayanad) visiting Elder Quan Nguyen to plan to raise money for the Company 33 School