Prologue

Mark, beaten and bruised was stowed away in a long-since abandoned warehouse in Los Angeles. The walls were composed of rotten steel and metal beams with a roof too weak to support its own weight.

His captors were a faction of the New Toa Organizers. A large crime syndicate centered in Toa now wishing to expand their poisonous hands Westward towards the city of LA.

Mark owed them money after stealing a large sum of Heroin a week ago. At first, Mark tried running. He planned to flee across the border over to Mexico and their warmer climates. He came close. He pictured himself basking beneath the sunlight like a lizard while sipping on a pina colada in Cancun. Unfortunately, the feeling of relief that came with coming close to freedom and safety led him to go careless. He decided to celebrate a day too early at a club in San Diego and was caught by an associate of the N.T.O.

Mark was a tall lengthy man in a business suit. He was young and with his youth came an abundance of stupidity, thus leading him into the predicament he's now in.

Mark wiggled his hands trying to wedge himself free from the rope binding him to a large metal pole at the center of the wear house. A mountain of boxes circled him almost entirely leaving only a small gap in front of him wide enough to escape.

Dimly lit hanging lights paved a path as if taunting him, showing him the way to freedom. The rest of what he could see was engulfed in a cloud of darkness and mystery.

Mark felt his breath leave him as he tried screaming for help, but a red ball gagging him prevented his scream from being heard. Siliva built up inside his mouth like foam due to being unable to close it. It left him a slobbering mess.

Still, Mark kept crying out as if the police or even a superhero would magically hear his voice. Eventually, someone did hear him

Footsteps could be heard in the distance. The steps echoed in all directions so it was hard for Mark to be able to tell where those footsteps were coming from. Mark's eyes darted in every direction as the steps grew louder and louder until he spotted a silhouette begin to crystallize in the gap leading up to him.

Mark's breathing began to grow as the silhouette grew larger and larger. His heart began pumping out of his chest as two more figures began to emerge. After two came four, five in total.

Mark's head began running wild with all the horrible ideas chipping away at his sanity. Fear and death loomed over as the figures finally came into view.

Leading the group was a tall lengthy man with a freshly shaven chin and sharp jaw. His eyes were like a hawk spotting its prey from above.

Mark tensed as he assumed the man to be the kingpin of the group he stole from, judging off the fancy gray and red suit the man wore and the X scar on his right cheek.

The people surrounding him were all in black suits with black glasses to match. They were tall and broad-shouldered like a bolder. Their faces were pale and void of any hair not even brows or lashes.

Mark began muffling. He wanted to beg for mercy, to shout "NO!" but nothing made sense.

"N-n-n-n-no?" The man taunted. He laughed showing off his grills and gestured for one of his men to remove the gag. The man did as he was told.

Mark immediately began shouting for help. He scram so loud his throat began to burn. If it weren't for the man punching him in the face, someone would have heard him.

"Are you tryna get me in FUCKING trouble?" The man asked as he yanked Mark by the hair. The man raised his hand to Mark's neck and formed a short ice blade that poked his neck.

Mark's skin shivered at the touch of the cold tip. If Mark made any sudden movement, he was done for.

"The name's Mark. Funny, I know!" The man began, "Though for now, you can call me Mark one and you can be Mark two, sound good? Good. Now, I want our product back or the money that comes with it. My boss ain't exactly happy with that shit you pulled this weekend, makes him look bad to his bosses. So, tell you what, let's make a deal. You tell me what you did to the product, money, whatever, and I'll let you go, what do you say? Not so bad, huh? So just cooperate and you might just make it out alive. Of course, we'll still beat the piss out of you but you know, that's just how the business goes," The man chuckled. Mark began crying.

Mark two began running through his memories. He pictured all the good, the bad, the regrets he had in his life and began begging. The man sighed and hung his head in disappointment.

"Look, Mark, I like you and it's not just because we have the same name…well it is but I don't wanna have to kill ya' so work with me hear."

"I don't have your money," Mark two whimpered, "I consumed everything."

"You consumed it?" Mark one asked bewildered.

Mark One stood and towered over Mark Two. "Well then I'm sorry for making an example of ya," Mark gestured to his men standing behind. One of them reached into a suitcase and took out an old two thousands camera, and set it on a tripod, aiming it directly at Mark's.

"No," Mark could barely get the word out. His eyes went mad darting from Mark one and the Camera his men set up. He's seen these videos online, torture videos of people who've stolen from other large crime syndicates.

Fear began setting in as he realized he too would join the large selection of torture videos on the internet.

"Wait!" he pleaded, "I can get it back, I promise, I can get it back!" His words fell to death's ears. It wasn't their first go about doing this kind of thing so they grew used to the begging and whining.

The evil Mark formed a long and thin blade of ice on his right hand asking one of his men, "You ready to record yet?"

Before the man could answer, a surge of electricity came over his body. The man's body fell to the ground in a thud as a hero stood behind him. Mask, A hero wearing a green hood and brown leather pants stood ready to save the captured Mark. He got his name from the white mask engraved with a distorted smile on his face. The hero had a utility belt wrapped around his torso with disks attached to it and a long metal pole on his right hand.

At first glance, the hero could be mistaken as a villain as not many people knew of him yet. But Mark knew, he's seen plenty of videos of him online. Fear lost its grip on him.

"You got to be shitting me," evil Mark whined slumping over. Two ice swords formed on both hands. They were long crooked blades made of blue ice with white hues. Frost smoke emitted from them and Mark Two could even see his distorted reflection on the blades.

The three remaining men in Mark ones crew drew their pistols. They all immediately opened fire.

The light radiating from their shots illuminated their faces and cast a shadow behind them.

Mask ran and ducked for cover behind one of the large metal pillars holding the warehouse up.

Mark's men kept firing, though they aimed carefully as their leader crept closer to the pillar. Once Mark One was close enough, his men stopped firing and Mark pierced the thick metal pillar with an ice blade.

Mark grinned having killed his and his syndicate's first hero. But, when Mark peered over the pillar, he saw nothing. Mask had avoided the fatal blow and was now somewhere in the wear house with them.

Before Mark could let his men know to keep their guards up, a disk came flying at them from the shadows above.

The disk detonated between the three men and sent them all crashing into the boxes around them. Mask came flying from the metal beams above, leaping towards Mark Two.

Seeing this, Mark One fired an ice spear directly at Mask, piercing his thigh and splattering his blood all over the ground beneath him.

Mask rolled around the ground, groaning and clutching his thigh in pain. Mask has been stabbed before. It was a warm and pulsing sensation he felt when it first happened, but this pain was different. It was cold and jabbing. He couldn't tell which was worse.

"Ha! You fool," Mark taunted.

"Get up!" Mark Two shouted.

"Shut it you stupid fuck," Mark One ordered pointing an ice spear at the other Mark. "Now ima torture the both of you."

Mark walked over to the injured Mask who then began crawling away like a worm beneath Mark's feet.

"Look at you. Pathetic. And you're supposed to be a hero? Well," Mark said scratching his chin with a small ice dagger, "To be fair I've never heard of you so maybe you're just some rich ass hole who thinks he can compete with the big dogs, am I right?"

Mask kept crawling away with the pain in his thigh being the only thing on his mind. Mark One stood there for a moment. At first, he was simply taunting the hero, but now, he really did believe him pathetic.

"Wow, I almost don't even feel like killing you."

Mark One turned to face Mark Two, "This piece of shit made you feel safe?" he almost busted out laughing. The other Mark was speechless looking at the hero who was supposed to save him on the ground, crawling like a worm.

"No words? Fine, OH! WAIT! The camera! Of course, I have to record this! Don't you move," Mark One joked.

The tied-up Mark looked down at the floor. He has come to terms with his soon-to-be painful death. He looked at the evil Mark who was tinkering with the Camera. He kept talking to himself, rambling about how strong he was and how this would be the very first video of a hero getting tortured.

"Our syndicate will really be feared with this one," he told himself.

Mark Two looked up at the sky, begging for his death to be quick. He gritted his teeth and began cursing at whatever God was watching. He cursed himself for being so stupid and then he turned his attention towards the hero lying on the floor.

He hated him for being so weak. He wished that the hero's pain would be ten times worse than his own. He began reciting his father's words over and over in his head "Heroes are a poison," he told himself.

Hate began blossoming in his heart for the hero who failed to save him. But then it quenched. Mark saw as Mask's hand moved to his back and gripped something.

Mark One watched intently as Mask began tinkering with something of his own, still cursing and grunting in pain.

"Yall sorry sacks of shits ready or what?" The other Mark asked not caring for their response.

"Shit, it's like I'm a child at a candy store, whom do I start with?" The evil Mark kept switching between the hero and his victim. He was stumped but eventually, he decided to save the hero for last to leave a lasting impression.

"It's your unlucky day, Mark," He said pointing his short ice blade at him.

Mark began wiggling like a slime, desperately trying to break free of his chains. His face seemed as if though the torture had already begun and in a way it had. Mentally. The thought and dread that came with imagining all the horrible things that were about to happen to him consumed him. He began crying out for mercy but it seemed to only please the evil Mark who was now standing over him with a sparkle in his eyes.

"Bastard!" Mask roared just as Mark One was about to commence his flailing of the other Mark's skin.

Annoyed, Mark One turned, only to see a disk flying toward him. The object was now only inches away, leaving no room for Mark One to dodge. It stuck to his chest with a small thud and soon a tik began ringing from it.

Mark was confused and then it clicked to him. It was a bomb. Mark quickly began encasing the bomb in ice to detach it from his chest. The Ice seemed to spread in slow motion to the Marks. Both looked at each other in horror realizing they would both get caught in the blast.

Finally, the bomb fell right in front of the tied-up Mark's feet. Evil Mark turned and ran as fast as he could while the other went to kick the bomb away. Neither was fast enough.

The bomb erupted in a ball of fire and smoke, enveloping the two marks in a shock wave. Even Mask felt the force of the explosion and realized he overdid it. The pillar the other Mark was tied to was now shattered as if it were made of glass and the man Mask was supposed to save was nowhere to be seen.

Mask's heart clenched as he realized his mistake. For a moment even the pain left him. Mask lifted himself with his pole despite the unbearable pain and waited for the smoke to settle. What he saw through it was horrifying.

He's been a hero for three months now and never had he seen what he was seeing now. On the other side of the warehouse lay the villain's upper half. Guts protruded from its waist in a pool of blood like an octopus. His fingers twitched and his body emitted smoke either from the blast or Mark's ice powers melting away. Mask couldn't tell which.

Mask was too in shock to process what happened and simply chose to turn away. Using his pole, Mask limbered towards the exit, pain, and regret now consuming his heart.