Good to see you back Frank.

Will do. I’ll write up one when I get some spare time.

Appreciate the time you took to make this post for us.

Immigration should have a screening process. With the recent tragedies surrounding illegal immigrants from all countries entering America, France and England I think that it would be justified. Not only for your safety but for the safety and security of our country. Clearly each State has their own terms but as I see it The Island is within in its own jurisdiction. So I will work to find what’s best for both parties.

Ah, the same old Shimo

It seems the political landscape has changed drastically in my absence. Not too many of us around anymore. I guess it’s time to come back.

Haven’t seen you in a while

What an interesting man

The pop of a bottle of liquor being opened. The soft somber piano playing in the background, the relaxed voices of the restaurant patrons enjoying their meal. Where else but The Chairman? Gene pours his drink into a glass, no ice. His face shadowed in his office with the smallest cloud of smoke from his cigar. “The Red Spade liquor. In my own opinion the best on the Island.” The voice is a familiar one. But surly it wasn’t Gene’s. As he takes his sip and leans forward you can catch a glimpse of a scorched chin as he lowers his mask. Golden with a shine to it. “But I suppose that’s too vein of me. Yes.. I know that.” Gene turns his attention to his muted television. Shocked at what’s come of his great city. After all, a city is only as great as the people that inhabit it. He slowly gets up and walks to the other side of the desk. He gently placed his hands on the man whom was sitting across from him. “It used to be Mafias and Motorcycle Clubs. Waging war through the street. Hell there was a Neo-Nazi Group that made a dent for a while. My point is.. I’ve been here a long time, practically since it was formed and still in a rather, fragile state. I built up a reputation of being trustworthy and loyal. A man you can depend on. Gene tightens his grip on the man’s shoulders. A soft gasp of air shot out of the man’s mouth. “Loyalty only gets you so far. To survive, thrive and outlast your competition you have to be cut throat. Fearless. And most importantly, you must do what’s best for business. You my friend are not best for business. Having sexual relations with the leader of notorious gang members girlfriend is NOT best for business. So please tell me, why?” The man looks forward, after the accident nobody has looked Gene in the eyes. As Gene loosens his grip the man takes a gulp, beads of sweat trickling down beside his ear. “Sir, I didn’t think that you had anything to do with them. They’re just a low level street gang. We just thought that.. Well what would you need with them?” Gene crouches down the view is from behind him. As he slowly takes his mask off you can see the visible disgust on the young man’s face. “Don’t be afraid.. No shhh.. LOOK AT ME! I own everybody, everybody has a price and everybody serves their purpose. A community thrives on the skills of individuals, not on groups. So when you fuck up one small fraction of a machine you ruin the whole thing. He’s unreplacable, you aren’t.” Gene takes the man’s neck and wrings it out. A soft chuckle before a loud snap. The men who work for Gene look on in horror as a once figure head for change has diluted to a crime boss. “Take him and dump him in the swamp.” “What about the others?” “Tap their houses, make sure we get a soft much information on them as possible. They still serve a purpose. And Lou.” “Yes sir?” “I need to talk to you.” As Lou makes his way over he is visibly terrified of Gene. From the point of view of Lou, Gene’s face isn’t horribly disfigured. Puss and scarred facial features are all that remain of a truly great man. Gene grabs his shoulders. “I’m counting on you to do the right thing. Don’t disappoint me.” Gene slowly puts his mask back on and sits back down. Taking another sip of his liquor in his empty room. “Red Spade liquor, best on the island in my opinion...”

The Wanderer kicks White Masks knees out and put him in a chokehold. ”What’s the point of trying to be recognized today if you’ll be forgotten tomorrow? People don’t care about you, they care about the things you do. When someone gets a degree to a prestigious college they aren’t recognized with honor. It’s only when they start committing horrible crimes that they start becoming relevant.” The Wanderer tightens his hold. ”People want anarchy. But they want other people to provide it. That’s all you are. Somebody who dies first so the next fool will take your place.” And with that, he releases the hold and vanished. All that was left was his imprint in the snow and light foot prints. He was gone.

“I’m trained in psychological warfare. To deteriorate the well being of a persons mind simply by exploiting their weaknesses. As for you. You have a strange case of being egotistical. I’m sure that you do what you do for pleasure, but there’s no denying that what you do is for the spotlight. The attention when they say your name. You think everybody is a fan, well what happens when people start to not care. What happens then White Mask? The best way to keep attention, is to have little to no communication. That’s my job, I’ve mentally scarred men with simple noises and and silence.” The Wanderer walks closer to White Mask. His white face paint blending into the snowfall with nothing but his black eye paint standing out. ”Have you ever heard a man beg for the sound of nails on a chalkboard simply because he was kept in a dark room with no noise except his breath? Begging for death? White Mask, silence is the best weapon you can have.” The Wanderer then stares White Mask down waiting for a response.

The Wanderer pushes White Mask up against a tree. Lifting him up from the ground. ”Stop fucking around. For once in your miserable life don’t let your ego talk for you. You and I aren’t different. We want nearly the same things.” Wanderer steps back and lets White Mask down. “I feel like you and I could change things on this Island. We could shape it for ourselves. With your..” Looking White Mask up and down. ”Untapped insanity and my training I’m sure you and I could make a good team. That is if you’re not too busy kidnapping unknowns and streaming it to the internet for shits and giggles.”

The Wanderer was sitting in a tree awaiting the arrival of The White Mask. Reminiscing about times before he disappeared. After reading about himself in the paper The Wanderer was rather displeased, the less people know about him the better. It’s easier to do his job when nobody is waiting for him. As The White Mask approaches the park The Wanderer drops down from the tree standing still. ”You’re a difficult man to reach. And trust me, I had to learn a entirely new language for my work so that’s saying something.” As the cold air blows a light snowfall shrouds the two men in the open park.

As the Island goes to sleep after the rain fall from earlier in the day, the man walks down the long road to the Asylum. Heavy security for something as simple as a mental institution? The man knew something had happened and it was just his luck. As he sneaks past the orderly’s he enters the building through a grate on the side of the building. He snuck into the main office of the warden at the facility. Hopefully he was still there. As he opened the door slowly he noticed nobody was in the room. The man looked around silently and placed his gun on the table. Then for the next several hours he stood in the corner awaiting the arrival of the warden. After what seemed like three hours the sun was finally rising to the sound of workers leaving for the end of their shift. The man was still awaiting the warden to enter his office when suddenly the door opened. Unfortunately it wasn’t just the warden. He brought along one of the doctors with him. “Why the hell is there a gun on my table?” The warden picked it up as the man grabbed the doctor and knocked her out. The warden, stunned and shocked, backed away from the man. Trying to hide the gun while acting afraid. ”Another one? Jesus how many of you people are there?” The man stands quietly as the warden aims the gun at him. The man looks surprised and afraid while kneeling to the ground. ”Please! I’m sorry!” ”Oh yeah? Now you’re sorry. Now that I’m gonna have the upper hand.” ”Please I was just trying to find someone. Don’t kill me!” ”Who?” ”White Mask. I was told to try and find him and kill him.” ”Who would pay to have that man killed? It’s not worth the risk.” ”Gene Smith. He wanted him dead for never returning a call or something.” ”Well he escaped. Gone with a couple bodies lying dead. Nobody knows where he went.” ”Damn! I should’ve never taken this job!” ”That’s an understatement.” The warden pulls the trigger only to hear the click of an empty gun. The man looks up at the warden. ”I thought you were supposed to help crazies, not kill them.” The man pulls his hair back. ”I’m supposed to treat them!” The warden throws the gun at the man and reaches for his knife. The man grabs his arm and snaps it backwards before covering his mouth. He leans to his ear. ”Put me on the list of another problem. Call me Wanderer.” Wanderer throws the warden into the wall before jumping out of the window. It was time to be reacquainted with an old friend.

Brazil. South America to many. But to the people who live there, it’s home. A home with drugs, disease and criminals spreading like a wildfire. But that’s everywhere right? Upon the 30th floor of a office building were two people, one a married man. The other a hooker that he paid to give him herpes, except he didn’t know that. The blinds were slightly closed, the light barely shining through. The loud moans of the hooker could be heard throughout the entire floor. But nobody was there so it didn’t matter. “Você é uma vagabunda naughty não é você?“ And a faint voice from the darkness. ”Não, mas você certamente é. Uma esposa, filho e uma casa de três quartos.“ The man walks out from the light. His face was white with black paint acrossed his eyes that looks like it was scratched out. “Unfortunate for you.. Isn’t it?” He grabs the man by the back on the head and drags him towards the window. The mans pants still at his ankles and struggling to get away. “Hope you can fly.” The man is flung out the window as the mysterious man watches. The hooker ran to the elevator pressing the down button rapidly. Suddenly the elevator cables snap sending the elevator freefalling, killing the women instantly. TWO DAYS LATER The mysterious man walks into his hideout where a small boy is sitting in his makeshift kitchen. ”Go home.” He says softly and quietly. “O que? Eu não falo inglês.“ ”Sorry, um. Ir para casa. Sua mãe deve estar preocupada.” He pours himself some whiskey imported from America. “Não, ela tem o amigo do seu amigo.“ The man takes a sip of his drink and sets it down. The problem with the boys mother has been growing worse and worse. She sleeps with men for money to support her child. He gets up and walks over to his wall. “Give this to nobody. Fuck. Dê isso a ninguém Rosendo. OK?“ “OK.” The man opens his wall exposing money. Worth at least 2,000$. He gives it to Rosendo and explains to him what he needs to do. The child asks the man where he will go. He points to the bottle and says. “Home...”