Chapter 1

"Here you go, boss. The traitor."

It was a dark, dank room. Filled with the scent of corpses. But when the man took of his blindfold, he saw an opulent office, with statues of Grecian characteristics, and crockery of a much more recent time. Surrounding the perimeters though, were ominous looking men donning suits, of which the stench seemed to emanate from.

The thug who had the pleasure of blinding him and later on returning his sight, was addressing a masked person, sitting on the opposite side of the room in the shadows, with a cigar in his hand. He found that his hands were still tied up.

"Good job", and the men were about to step out of the room when their masked leader stopped them.

"No. All of you remain where you are. I need all of you for this next scene.", he said in a hoarse voice in a smirked manner.

The captive was shivering, a sweat started dripping from every inch of his body.

"I didn't know, boss, I didn't know they were onto me!"

The masked man just stared at him, finishing the last of his Cuban.

"Do you wanna know, why I wear a mask, Marcus?", his speech cold enough to silence every whimper of breath from the man kneeling on the carpet.

As he queried, the mask he was wearing came into the light as he walked slowly out of the shady corner of the room. The mask was made of bronze, fashioned like a helm of antiquity, covering only a part of his face and head. Carved on its sides was the name 'Felix'.

"The Japanese," Felix continued with a cough, "often joke about how awful American superheroes and super-villains are at concealing their identity. That we only cover half of our faces. And that very few of us even bother to distort our voices and whatnot. Apparently, to them, we're horrible at staying hidden"

The captive flinched, as the cigar was flicked in his direction. But he hurriedly continue paying attention to Felix, fearing that acting otherwise would mean the last act he would ever commit.

The other men stood silent and staunch.

"I tell you what, Marcus. Don't worry about blowing my cover with that information you've disclosed, I have no problem staying hidden.", after which he laughed.

"This mask makes me more than just hidden. It makes me invisible."

True enough, he disappeared. But his presence was yet too extant for Marcus to even dare to move a muscle. And in a single par sec of a moment, he was lifted of the ground, of what felt like a hand was clenching his throat upward to the ceiling.

"Who am I, Marcus?" The sound seemed to echo around the room, emphatic enough to indicate to everyone who was listening that the question posed was deprived of any subjectivity.

"You..," Marcus struggled with air. "..are the boss..of.."

"A large criminal syndicate? An organization so expansive people think we're everywhere?", he dropped Marcus back on the floor, of which he rolled around on, gasping for air.

"This entire time you were in my office, you tried to stay brave. You tried to hold on to every strand of hope you had of getting out of here, overcoming me."

Marcus tried speaking through his jittery jaws, "No..I wasn't.."

"SHUT UP!". His words sounded like fire crackling through bushes, burning not only vegetation, but thousands of records playing backtracked vinyls looking for hidden messages in old rock songs. Felix reappeared, with a .45 in his hand.

 "You see...I can't have that in an organization like this. People hoping to do better than me, to someday take my power. Relying on the notion that I'm a man, and that someday I'll die."

"But I'm more than a man ruling a powerful club. I'm lucky because I don't have to face any of that bullshit. I'm god, Marcus"

Marcus slithered on the floor towards Felix, with every bit of movement he can master in desperation, "Yes..master..you are..", but his head was stepped on by one of the guards in suits. The stench was unbearable.

Felix ignored it and continued, "No, you don't understand you see. For example," whilst pointing the gun at Marcus's head, "when I kill someone, I don't give them any mercy. Including the mercy of life. I don't relieve them of all of the shit-hole sufferings that people go through every fucking day they have to breathe. I don't give them the serenity of non-existence.."

And at that very moment, Marcus noticed something he couldn't have noticed before when the guards were still a distance away from him. Their eyes were cavernous, and the one that had his right foot on his face was missing a large chunk of his head. Marcus cried.

Felix smiled. "No. I make them more than just bodies. I make them loyal."

"Please, Boss. I think..."

"Hold that thought."

The .45 went of.

Felix walked closer to the man lying prostrate on the floor, while the white of his eyes gradually abandoned him. He stooped down, and he whispered into Marcus's ears.

"Welcome to the 'real' underworld."

Bucket List

K. S. P.

Tired Smiles

Smiles are skewed . Their multidimensional.

A smile can be sinister, warm, malicious or superficial.

But the most wonderful kind of smile, is a tired one.

It represents the human will to pursue joy, regardless of what befalls them.

Heartburns

Great things can happen during tough times.

Great things that stay with you, make you smile, during days of peace and white porches.

I'm Dracula, Bitch

Hi. I dreamt you were married to him. & I paid an unauthorized visit to ur house to burn the bed you sleep in while you make love. Hot sex.

Hey. I dreamt I pushed you off the cliff and he would try to save you.
And as he bends down to reach your hand I kick him off the cliff too.

I'm not jealous.
I just want you to know that he's a dick & I want you to pay for all your malice.
I guess dicks are meant for each other.

Know that the countless times u broke my heart has made me heartless. Now I won't feel so guilty if I murder you and feed you to the walrus.

Hi Sue

I wanna feel the rope around my neck

and have a second chance.

Is that why fate brought me to this hole,

this cruel hopeful dance?

Life wrangles you,

throws you into the sea.

While Living is you swimming

to a land that might not be.

They say there's worth left in me,

so I must hope to live.

But my worth is naught more than utility,

Like an object or a gift.

For maybe when I become

the cemetery's tree.

I will run from all emotions

and become useful for the weak.

And you have all sighed

for my lack of confidence,

I will stand and give you shelter,

For what lies in pertinence.

And smirks the priest with greying hair

In his eulogy,

"Here he lies, this sad old boy,

who's gonna burn for free"

But little do they know

That a bird they have set free,

Shitting on the heads of sheep

While feeding on my dreams.

I screech "Oh, is this afterlife?

The land that I shall be?

I wonder if die again,

oh higher will I be?"

For where is solace, when home is not able to house a wet face?

.

Seasons of the Dawn

Way to go, new year snow.

All the paths they pave you.

For all the times you left the warmth.

To makers of the late dew.

When carapaces shed, the leaves all dead.

I'll make sure you come home instead.