I felt the blood run down my face from the open slot in my mask. I looked at the criminal corpses. The trash had been taken out. I dropped the knife I took from one of the criminals and I cleaned it off. It was 1953. I heard the jazz playing in the building next to me, drowning out the pain and suffering outside. It was hard to watch. Careless sheep walked down the street drunk or worse. It was sickening. Everyone seemed so ignorant of what was around them. I threw the corpses into different trash cans. It wouldn't last forever but it would cover me until I got out. You may wonder why I do this. I have a reason. Since I was young I had heard about the Jefferman gang. I had heard about the death and injuries caused by them. Even my own father was taken by them. It didn't affect me, as I never knew him, but to my mother it meant everything. She eventually was killed by the gang, too, leaving me and my younger brother, James to live on our own since we were 17 and 12. Me and James stuck together for most of our life, but when he wanted to go to London we went our separate ways. Then one day a letter was sent to me by someone I didn't know. It read they found me and it had signatures of my family members on it. It said they had been collecting it for years and finally got my brother. I finally snapped. Since then I've been killing gangs and criminals. Now you know my reason.
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Masks
Mistério / SuspenseIn March of 1953, San Francisco, a 26 year old man named William who wears a black mask and a black suit takes down a local mob. A 54 year old man named George is sentenced to a life in prison with one arm. How will these paths cross? Find out in Ma...
