APRIL 16, 1989

Time to wake up and smell the carnage once more, I suppose.

As usual, I rise from my small bed and walk outside into the kitchen/living room.

Another phone call.

"This is 'Thomas' from the Methadone clinic. We've scheduled a short meeting for you tonight. We're at NW 184th street, Apt. 105. And don't worry... We know discretion is of importance to our clients."

Yeah, yeah, yeah, blah blah.

I hang up.

I walk outside my apartment. ANOTHER mysterious blank package with no return address.

I should really stop opening these, could be a bomb or anthrax inside.

I wonder how the Ruskies HAVEN'T put a price on my head from all these kills.

Nope, the usual mask and note in shitty handwriting. A tiger mask this time, "Tony".

Guess I gotta try this one out too.

I walk outside, enter my DMC-12, and drive off.

I'm here.

I decide to put on the tiger mask.

I walk in and knock down a Russian instantly.

I pick up his bat and cave his skull in with it.

WHACKWHACKSPLAT!

Dead straight off.

The floors get a bit stained.

I wonder who cleans this place up afterwards.

I run into the room on the left I saw when I ran in.

A mobster on a chair.

I take him by surprise and whack him with the bat.

He seems to have only been injured by the hit, considering how he desperately tried to crawl away despite bleeding pretty profusely from his head.

I can't stand to see anyone like this, even a Russian.

I get on him and snap his neck, as a mercy kill.

Footsteps come from the outside of the room.

Shit, a mobster with a shotgun!

I run as fast as I can out of the room and throw my bat.

Too late.

The mobster fires off a shot and it just barely misses me.

He's knocked down by the bat.

I know I said I'd never kill a Russian with my bare hands again, but there's no time to do it with the bat.

I grab him by the head, and whack it against the tile floor.

His head fucking smashes instantly against the ground.

What the hell? Does this mask give me superhuman strength?

I decide to test this theory by punching out an incoming mobster with a golf club.

CRUNCH.

His entire upper head is reduced to mush by the blow I give him.

He flails around for a bit before succumbing to his injury and leaking brains all over the floor. Gross.

This is cool and, quite frankly, fucking terrifying.

I run into the bathroom to search for any other mobsters.

Found one.

He's hit by the door and lands backwards onto the toilet.

God, I gotta stomp ANOTHER head in?

This should be pretty messy.

SPLAT.

Blood sprays onto the mobster, the floor, and me.

Damnit, I JUST washed this outfit!

I walk up to the next floor.

I enter in through the left staircase.

Footsteps sounding from the other room. Guess another mobster is patrolling.

I run in and hit him with a right hook.

His neck snaps instantly from the blow.

I walk over to the kitchenette area. A pot of boiling water lies idly on the stove.

This should be interesting.

I walk into the next room and knock down the two mobsters standing there.

The first one, I pour the water on his head.

He lets out a scream of pain and holds his head, which burns his hands. He dies from the pain and the third-degree burns a little later.

The second mobster tries to get up, but I knock him to the floor and beat his head in with my fists of fury, spraying a bit of gore across the floor.

I walk to the other room.

One mobster gets knocked down by the door.

The other one shoots at me.

I miraculously manage to avoid the shots and break the fucker's jaw off with a left hook. He falls to the floor.

I go to the knocked-down one and execute him as usual with my fists.

Oh god, what sick torture scene have I just discovered?

A bloody and battered man, shirtless and tied to a chair.

His genitals are hooked up to a car battery.

His face... all of his teeth knocked out, and the rest is too bloody and mutilated to make out.

I feel sick to my stomach.

A mask on the table?

A walrus mask.

Christ, that could've been me on that chair...

I grab the mask and keep going.

Now I feel no remorse for these sick Russian bastards.

I walk into the bathroom, see another mobster, kick him to the ground, and rip his head off his shoulders.

DIE

DIE

DIE

...

OH GOD.

What the hell am I doing!?

The sound of the flesh and sinew tearing to pieces was enough to snap me out of it.

I drop the head to the floor.

Guess I went a bit psycho upon seeing what sick things the Mafiya is doing.

I almost didn't notice the next Scrabble letter next to the toilet. An A this time.

No matter.

I walk back to the room where the burned Russian is and hook a left into the last room.

Shit, two Ruskies, one with a silenced M92 and another with a bat.

I hit them both with a one-two punch. Brains hit the wall.

I walk into a narrow hallway. The last guy, holding a golf club, is standing at the end of it.

I charge at him and knock his head off with a right.

Guess I cleared the place.

I walk back to the ground floor through a staircase on the left side.

I really tore up this place, huh?

I walk outside, step inside the DeLo, and drive off to Nicke's place, VHS Palace.

I'm here.

I enter the video store. Pretty spacious place. The same one where I bought my NES.

"'Sup, Nicky?", I said.

"Hey dude! Good to see you again! Did you hear about the massacre the other night?"

"Sure did.", I replied.

"A bunch of Ruskies, I heard. No loss, if you ask me!"

"Heh, same here."

"They say some maniac wearing a rubber mask did it!"

I silently wonder how he'd react if he knew I did it.

"Sounds like a scene straight from a slasher flick, heh... Oh, yeah! I have the perfect film for you. The one on the desk, take it! It's on the house!"

I grabbed the film. "Drive"? Sounds strangely familiar...