A fair aged man sits on his couch. He’s hunched over, looking down at the grimy and stained coffee table. His hands move vigorously, moving a pure white powder into a line. He then reels back as he quickly inhales it. He groans with pain mixed with a hint of pleasure. He lays his head on the back of the couch, staring at his burnt ceiling of the mobile home. For him, Marcus Lambert, this was an average night. Yet, only a few hours ago, he had done something much more different than anything he could have thought of doing. He met with a young lady. Fair skin, blonde hair, piercing blue eyes. Him, and his gang, had a great time with her.
Marcus was a lonely man. Dirty blonde hair, sunken in eyes, an ugly five o'clock shadow. He lived a miserable life full of drugs and porno magazines. His eyes blurred from the powder he had just taken. Noises distorted and lines became shapes. He smiled gleefully, as his eyes rolled back. His mind starts to wonder, but is brought back when there is a knock on the door.
Marcus sits up and stagers to stand. He slowly shuffles his feet along the carpet floor. Another loud bang. “Calm the fuck down, i’m comin’.” He slurred out. He tripped a little, leaning against the door frame. He reached for the door, and opened it slowly. “Yeah? What is it?” He said, eyes struggling to stay open. The shadowy figure stayed silent in the darkness. His eyes slightly open more. “Hey, say some pissant.” Marcus says, more angered. Without warning, the figure reeled back and punched Marcus in the gut. Marcus falls to his knees and groans in pain. The figure walks in the light. Marcus looks up to a horrifying site. A tall man, wearing all black and a hoodie jacket. Under the hood, was a fabric mask, with a skull printed on it. “It’s time for you to atone for your sins.” The Skull said, with a distorted voice.
The man pulls back his foot and kicks Marcus in the jaw. Marcus flies back, landing hard on the floor. Marcus screams in pain. The Skull steps slowly inside and shuts the door. Marcus shot up and ran to a back room. “You cannot run from your own redemption.” The Skull pulled a handgun from inside his jacket. Marcus came out from the back, holding a handgun also. “You better stay back! You little Faggot!” Marcus yelled. The Skull steps forward slowly. “I see you chosen to be difficult. So be it.” Without warning, Marcus fires off a shot, pegging The Skull in the chest. He looks down at his chest, and back up to Marcus, “That wasn’t the wisest of decisions.” Marcus’ eyes widen with fear. His hands, still aiming the gun at The Skull. Then, just like a lightning strike, The Skull advances forward and grabs Marcus’ arm, aiming it at the ground. Marcus screams at the sudden attack and fires his pistol. He fires several shots before he realizes he’s firing into his floor.
The Skull releases Marcus slowly. Marcus quickly aims the gun point-blank at The Skull’s face. Marcus pulls the trigger. Click. Empty. “Your time is up, Marcus Lambert.” The Skull say, grabbing him by the collar. The Skull raises his gun and places the barrel on his forehead. Marcus, scared out of his wits, is silent, and still. The Skull pulls the trigger. A loud bang rings out from the quiet mobile home. The Skull releases Marcus’ limp body and lets it fall to the floor. Silence.
The Skull pulls down his hood, and takes off his cloth mask. His green eyes are pierced by the light of the room. His pale skin gleems off the flickering bulbs. He runs his gloved hand through his brown hair. “Rest easy, Maria,” He say, with a soft voice, “you have been avenged.”
