He wore the pig's uniform and felt the strangely reassuring and at the same time disgusting power it provided. The badge was shining dimly in the reflection of the street lights, that were just bright enough to enable the camera to pick things up. It was raining, but that was just fine. It would make things look authentic and wipe away possible evidence. The video camera was up and running in the bushes. He had just set it up when he saw his target walking down the street. He approached him in the macho-manner the cops were so good at. The target was about twenty-five, decent looking, well dressed and, of course, black. He was just perfect. The media would love him.

He stepped in his way and said in a firm demanding voice:

"Excuse me, Sir!"

The black guy stopped and looked at him.

"What are you doing here at this time of day?"

"What?" he asked, and the man in uniform regretted this silly opening. Now he had to stick to it.

"What are you doing here in the middle of the night?"

"What do you mean? I'm walking home. Is there anything wrong with that? Am I asking you, what you're doing here in the middle of the night? Jeezus!"

He sounded slightly pissed off - quite rightly so, the fake cop thought.

"I'm on duty, Sir. Do you have any identification with you?"

"Is it a criminal offence now to walk down this street after sunset, or what?"

"There has been a number of burglaries in this area. It's just a routine. May I see some identification now, Sir!"

"Christ!"

He reached in the pocket of his jacket to get his drivers licence out and handed it to the cop. He tried to look serious when he glanced at it, but he did not even memorise his name. This guy would be the most famous man in the next months, years, maybe in the history of America. The black guy stood there impatiently and annoyed.

The next act was going to be hard. It was crucial that the black guy did not resist or cause problems.

"I'm afraid, I have to ask you to turn around. Spread your legs and put your hands behind your head?"

He tried to sound as serious as possible.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

Now he was really pissed off.

"You heard me. I have to search you. I have reason to believe that you are involved in a criminal case. Do as I told you. NOW!"

For a second the cop feared, the man would refuse to follow the order. He moved his hand slowly to his holster to underline his determination.

"Alright! Chill, man! Jeezus!"

He turned around.

"Fuck, man. You wouldn't do that to a white man. But, hey, I'm just some fuckin' nigger!"

'He's right there', the fake cop thought.

"I'm sorry, pal. This is nothing personal." He said to the back of the man, who stood motionless in the frisk-position. „You're gonna be a martyr. You will go down in history as the man who triggered the biggest revolution in America. You're gonna be the founder of a new empire."

"Whaddaya talking about? Are you crazy, man? You know, I think you ain't no real cop."

He tried to turn his head, but the man in uniform stopped him.

"Don't move!"

He raised his right arm.

"I'm really sorry, pal. It's for a good cause. Your children will live in a better world, believe me."

"Shit, man! What the fuck are you talking about!"

He tried to turn around, but the cop pulled out his 38 and shot the man in the back of the head.

He was surprised to find that the man was not blown all over the street. His brains were not spilt all over the pavement like he had seen on TV uncountable times. He just dropped on the pavement. Kind of disappointing.

No FX.

Nothing.

He simply dropped on the floor.

The man was slightly disappointed.

The fake cop ran across the street, got the camera and disappeared in a nearby backstreet where he had parked his car and drove off.

Nobody had seen a thing.

Not yet.

The fake cop was confused. He had never killed anyone before, and now he felt a sense of power beside the compassion for the man he had just killed. He drove right to the next church to pay the man the due respect. He did not believe in God. God was an invention of the tyrants. A drug to keep the good people's vision blurred. To stop them from seeing the truth. To stop them from standing up against the evil army. Just like the drugs, the government had issued after people had stopped buying all this bullshit. Religion was the ordinary man's crack. It was vile. Kept him down. Promised him heaven and gave him hell.

You cannot blame the blind man for not seeing the truth. And he was there to show them the light.

The torch of truth, as he liked to call himself.

Apart from some old God-pushing Lady the church was empty. The fake cop lit a candle and stood there for a couple of minutes, rerunning the scene in his head, trying to create a picture of the man he had killed. He felt sorry for his possible wife and children. He did not regret as he was only responsible to his conscience. And his conscience told him, that all the cute talk and all the political correct bullshit did not lead anywhere. Morality was about actions - not talking. And some immorral actions were better than the void and useless talking, that did not change anything. With these thoughts he justified the murder.

There was nothing else to do, so he left.

He drove home and burned the pig's uniform in the garden. With an axe he smashed the badge and the gun. But he had more powerful guns in his closet and pretty soon was the time to use them. It was the break of dawn.

He put 'Rage Against the Machine' on the stereo, turned the volume to the max and watched the recording. He had studied their lyrics for a long time and he knew every single line of every single song. It had opened his eyes.

The video was great. He had feared that the recording was not useful, that he had to go out and kill another man, but it looked pretty authentic. It would kick butt. Once the oppressors had got away, but this one would make the masses rise out of their tranquillity. This would be the payback for Rodney King, X, and the uncountable victims of the American genocide. It was the right time. People were ready to take up arms against their tyrants. They had acquitted O.J., and he was as guilty as fuck. He was not even a proper black man. Always trying to suck up to the chalks. However, black women were good enough to suck the masters' dicks, but a dirty nigger was not good enough to have the blonde blanco. Uncle Toms were what they wanted, not rich, integrated black people. O.J. was a motherfucker.

He spent all night, copying tapes, put them into envelopes with a Xeroxed anonymous note he had already prepared, saying he was too scared to tell his name because of fear of the police.

The next morning he would go and mail them at a post office nearby the scene of crime to the major TV stations, some black stations, newspapers and the police.

One of them would broadcast it, that was for sure. Even it was just a small black channel. It would set off the biggest riots, America had ever seen. A white cop killing an innocent black man executioner-style, with the right hand raised for the Nazi-greeting. And there was nothing the boys in blue could do to stop it. Of course, they would analyse the tape and they would find out that it was a fake.

Who would believe them?

There was a dead body and a video.

It would look like a cover-up.

And that would finally bring the situation to the boiling.

They could even catch him and put him into court. Their story would sound fucking unbelievable and ridiculous. And he would become a martyrer, just like the man that had died for the new empire.

The torch would set fire to LA and the United States, maybe the world. The fire in Ancient Rome would look like a campfire compared to his. No more materialism, no more exploitation of the good people. The blacks would stop fighting each others. They would get off this fucking colours-trip, they would wake up. No more lies. No more American nightmare. The dirt would be washed off the streets into the gutter. A new empire of hope, solidarity and justice after the cleansing of corruption. Hatred would lead the way of the revolution.

He was the puppetmaster who pulled the strings of history.

The times of oppression would come to an end.