The Mask: Burdens and Reputations

Down and Out

Sorry guys,

I know.

We suck.

But I swear, there is a legit reason this time!

As some of you might know, we live in Florida and just got hit by Ian which took out our power and internet and shit.

It sucked but Dark's got hers back up- Thank the gods.

My apologies for the inconvenience, now back to your regularly scheduled, rarely posted on time story :D

-Twisted

A gasp leaves him as he wakes to a fetid stench.

It was choking him.

Like he was enveloped in it.

Suffocating.

Evil.

A shiver runs down his spine as he covers his mouth.

His eyes sweep the darkness, confused.

Where the fuck was he?

He shifts to sit up, rubbing the back of his head with a groan.

Something was off-

His eyes narrow as he scowls into the darkness.

Something-

His heart slams into his chest as he scrambles to his feet.

Kids! There were kids-

He grimaces as his mind replays the vivid memory.

The blood.

The screams.

The agony.

Morgana!

That cunt.

What the fuck had the old hag done!?

He sinks low, keeping his growl at bay.

He was going to kill that bitch, magic or no.

He grips his blade so tightly the metal bites into his palm.

Good.

At least he wasn't trapped in a fucking night terror-

Fuck, he winces.

-though a large part of him wished he were.

His eyes strain to make out something-anything to indicate someone had made it.

He jumps nearly a foot in the air when someone grabs his wrist.

He turns, ready to attack.

To defend himself.

"Let me-" He growls as he swings his other hand-

Only for it to be deflected.

"T."

He pauses as some of the tension riddling him loosens. "Yensid?" His brow furrows.

How the fuck had he forgotten-

Fear.

Screaming.

Blood.

His blade sinking into soft flesh.

His strike, a little too late.

"Indeed." The old man sighs wearily.

He closes his eyes as he drops his arms and turns away with a deep breath.