The cold wind blew through the ally, as Richard looked at the concrete slabs at his feet. He could see the graffiti on the walls. This was the place his wife had been murdered. Earlier that week he had checked out of the hospital. It had been only four days, but Richard felt fine. He wore the silver cross his wife Ashley wore during here time alive. Richard was going to make the man behind this pay. This wasn't just going to be handed off to the police. He was personally going to kill the man in the red hoodie.

He paused in the alley for a moment, taking a deep breath. His fist was clenched and his teeth gritted. His heart was throbbing, and being here didn't help. He slammed his fist into a nearby wall, blood pouring from the splint skin on his knuckles. He pulled his hand back, examining the damage. He had been avoiding going home. Usually when he came back Ashley was waiting for him, but today he knew she wouldn't be there.

Richard finally went home, recognizing the emptiness he was afraid of. The abode was a ghost of it's former self, memories whispering to the husk that was left behind. It was obvious why. He made his way past the doorway into the living room. All the walls were still white, after realizing they would never have children, the couple finally decided to buy a home. They had only been married for two years, and this home was a recent purchase. Seven months ago, they had moved in, settled down, and made a home out of these walls. Ashley jokingly called it the white house. They were going to paint it, they just hadn't picked a day.

Richard's eyes surveyed the room. It didn't feel familiar anymore. The same chess game was still set up on a nearby table. The sofa and TV were both calm and undisturbed. They sat close to the right side of the room, open to the hallway and door way.

Richard made his way towards the chess board, the metal pieces of gold and silver reflecting the light. It was his move, Ashley had moved last, before they left their house that fateful night. Richard grabbed a pawn and moved it forward. Placing the red sticky note on the other side. It still read the tender words, "I love you", as if her voice yet echoed through the halls. Ashley had written those words there because she had to leave early for work one day. Now it was as if she was speaking from the grave.

Richard looked over towards his phone lying on the counter. He always left it there when he and Ashley went out. It was mostly because he didn't want any distractions when they were spending planned time together. He picked up the phone, his thumb opening the lock screen. The picture was of him and Ashley together. He looked up at the notifications, seven missed calls, several text messages, and nameless amounts of pings from social media and app games.

He looked over his call history, four were from work, and three from Hank, his guardian. He quickly played the last call from work just a day prior. He sighed as he listened to the message.

"That's it, three days now and no word? I've called and left several messages; I've texted you, still nothing. You're fired Rick, don't bother coming back. You know what? I don't even care what the reason is, I thought you were better than this."

Richard gripped the phone harder, he was too numb to feel angry or upset at the moment. He was too empty inside to care about bills, or temporal necessities. He brushed his thumb against the screen to scroll towards Hank's call stamps. He squinted as curiosity struck its cord. Hank called three times just moments before him and Ashley left. A minute before they left out the door. No message was left. He moved his thumb, swiping to the side to view the messages. He quickly ignored the text from his boss as he scanned the two messages from Hank. His eyes scaned the messages as he read.

"Richard, pick up your damn phone! This is a fucking emergency!"
"Come on, Richy Boy. IGNORE the bad blood. Don't be a fucking child, you little shit. It's about Ashley."

Richard's blood boiled as he through his phone across the room. "FUCK YOU HANK!"

The phone went flying across the room, slammed against the wall, and dropped to the floor. Richard watched the phone vibrate on the floor, as the ringer went off. He stared at the object with venom in his eyes. At the third ring he walked towards the phone to glance at the Caller ID. It was an unknown number.

Richard picked up the phone, answering the phone and placing it against his ear. He let the caller speak first.

"Hello, is this Richard King?"

"Who is this?" Richard replied.

"This is officer Blake Davis, I was assigned to your case."

Richard stared at the ceiling. Letting the officer continue.

"I was wondering if I could come by your house tomorrow for some questions." Blake added, "Do you like burgers?"

"What?" Richard asked confused.

"I was going to bring Burgers." Blake stated, "You have a favorite place, or any allergies?"

"No." Richard replied confused.

"Good, so tomorrow at 3pm work well for you?" Blake tried to confirm.

"Is this going to help you find the fucker who killed my wife?" Richard asked, "Or are you just trying to pin this on me?"

"I just need to ask your account of what happened that night, for the record. I thought it would be best done in person."

"Sure, tomorrow works."

"Alright, I wish you a good day sir."

"Yeah." Richard replied, letting the officer hang up.

He looked over at his smashed phone screen, the corner which smashed against the wall had been cracked, making the screen slightly broken. The object felt heavier as he thought about his next move. He hesitated as he called Hank. The phone rang thrice before a click was heard.

"Richard?" Hank said with his sandy rough voice.

"You knew." Richard paused. The words stung, "You should have said something."

"I tried." Hank replied, "I couldn't find your number, sense you changed it."

"You should have told me sooner."

"I told Ashley my boy." Hank stated, "I did everything I could. Don't blame me. We both know this isn't my fault."

"You never liked her anyway. You might as well just have pulled the fucking trigger yourself!"

"Listen here you little shit. You think you're the only man to have lost his wife?" Hank stated.

"You're a single mother fucker!" Richard yelled back, "You've been alone your entire life!"

"You don't know everything about me punk."

"Of all the things I need right now, it's not you. You can go play god with your wacky visions else where old man!" Richard quickly ended the phone call as he threw his phone on his couch. He looked over towards the wall. And then he looked towards the stairs, wondering what to do next. In honesty, he wasn't even sure how to move on.

The man walked up the stairs, towards his room. He passed the guest room as he made his way to the master bedroom. He creaked open the door to see his neatly made bed. His eyes flew around the room as he spied his Japanese sword on the wall. The katana was a historical weapon for close combat fighting, and it hung sheathed.

Richard enjoyed history, and as a token of appreciation, his inlaws got him the sword for a birthday. He had no special affection for any one culture in history, but he found particular enjoyment in the WW2 time period. The sword was specially made to replicate a Japanese WW2, officer's katana.

The mourning man leaned against the wall, before glancing down at his night stand. He spied the lock on his drawer, used to keep his M9 safe. He kept it loaded at all times. With two magazines full and ready to go. He paused for a brief moment as thoughts crossed his mind.

He could end it all. The pain could stop right here, right now. Richard shook his head, Ashley wouldn't want that, besides he hated suicide, he thought it was for the weak. He refused to be weak.

Richard's fist clenched. "I am not weak." He whispered to himself over and over again the same sentence, until he pulled his katana off the wall. He looked the blade over, checking to see if it was still sharp.

When he was done examining the blade he looked over towards his laptop in the corner of the room. He made his way over swiftly as he began searching for the name pierced in his brain.

"Franklin Power." Richard mumbled, as he began his search. He looked over what he could find out about the man, before finding an address of Whitepages. He opened a new tab glancing over the search bar.

"Six Swords Gang." He hit enter and followed the top result for anwsers.

He scanned the text of the website before a phrase stood out to him, "They praise their leader, dubbed, the Master Mind."

He quickly clicked back towards the previous page, to glance at the address again.

Richard paused before reading the next paragraph carefully. "Some members of the gang critically acclaim he has both telepathic and telekinetic powers. One officer recorded, as a eye witness account, that this Master Mind, "picked up (his) car with nothing but his mind, and threw it into a nearby building!" Other witnesses have allegedly claimed he has stopped bullets. No evidence of these events have been confirmed by the local police."

He switched back towards his previous tab, taking down the address of Franklin Power. He moved over towards his night stand, unlocking the door and retrieving his M9. He put the gun in his pants fully locked and loaded.

He stared at the Katana on the wall, pausing for a moment. He thought of taking it as well, but decided against it. He moved on and made his way to his garage.

He looked over the small room, with the tools to the side neatly placed on a work bench. He ignored it all as he made haste to his car. It wasn't a new vehicle, just a beat up, old 2002 Audi A4 Sedan. The silver paint was flaking off and the engine had the occasional problem, but it still functioned enough to drive.

After taking the time to drive to Mr. Power's house, Richard spied the run down buildings of the ghetto neighborhood. When he found the address, he parked his car across the street, and waited. It was 3 in the afternoon when he showed up, but he wanted to wait for the cover of night.

He watched countless people move in and out of sight, but finally at around 5 at night a man opened the door and walked in. Richard exited his car, moving towards the door. He gave three rapid knocks as he wait by the door.

The door opened wide as Jason looked at the man. He was tall, muscular, and wore a French mustache. His pale skin was covered with cuts, and blown vains.

"Hi, my name is Rick, Rick King. Mr. Power died the same night as my wife, and I wanted to know if you knew any reason why."

"Damn shame." The man paused, "Frank was my brother. Sorry you got wrapped up in all this, but uh, I really can't say. Best you stay out of it."

As the man tried to close the door, Richard held it open. "I'm looking for anwsers. I don't care how dangerous it is."

"You should." The man stated. "He ran with the worse of the worse."

The door was tried, but Richard pushed back. The door slowly began opening as the man looked at Richard with wide eyes. Richard squinted as the other man cursed under breath.

"How are you doing that?" He exclaimed. Richard watched the man go for a bat.

Richard slammed his free hand into the sturdy fellow's face knocking him back with a stumble. Rick took a few steps inside the building.

Mr. Power swung the bat at Richard. The bludgeon hit Rick in the left shoulder, but was caught by a blocking motion.

Richard tackled the man to the ground, as they traded blows. Richard stood atop the man as the bat was pressed against Richard's neck.

Richard swung his arms around the bat hitting the man. "Tell me what you know or I'll kill you!"

"Get the fuck out of here!" The man whimpered. He swung his arms around to try and hurt Richard, but the bat slipped and hit him in the face.

Richard slammed his fist into the man's face repeatedly, until Mr. Power was knocked unconscious. Then he took in a few good breaths.

He threw the bat to the side and dragged the body down a small hall. He looked for tape or rope to tie the man up.

Cabinets flew open as Richard searched for anything he could use. After three brief moments, Richard settled on plastic wrap. He tied the man to the chair from ankle to shoulder. Then he began walking anxiously back and forth. Richard felt the bruise on his face as he licked the inside of his cheek. He cursed under breath. He looked at his M9, checking the clip, and took a deep breath.

"Wha-what the hell?" Mr. Power stirred.

"I figured you'd be out longer. It's always longer in the movies." Richard trailed off.

"Where am I?" Mr. Power yelled, struggling against the plastic wrap.

"It's still your place." Richard stated.

"What the hell do you want? And how the hell are you so strong?"

Richard looked over the barrel-chest man. The plastic wrap wouldn't last too long. Richard knew he was about half his size. "Your brother. He worked with a gang, didn't he?"

"Yeah, he was one of the Six Swords." The man answered.

"Who was the man in the red hoodie."

"Red hoodie?" The man scanned the ground.

"Yes, a red sweater with a hood."

"I don't know his name man. He's like, some gang assassin. People just call him Graffiti."

"Graffiti? What the fuck kind of name is that?"

"It's what he does. Apparently he likes to leave a message. Some say he even paints with the blood of his victims."

"I need to find him."

"Didnt you just here what I said? Besides, I don't know where he is at, man." Richard waved the gun towards the man's head, sliding the rack back.

"Oh shit. Hey man, there's no need for that!"

"TELL ME!" Richard's body trembled with anger.

"I DON'T KNOW! I DON'T KNOW!"

"Then you're of no use to me." Richard moved the gun towards Mr. Power's head.

"Wait, wait, wait! I know who does know! I can get you someone else who knows. There's a distributor, goes by the name Bagz. I know where you can find his place!"

"So tell me."

"Nah, you'll kill me if I just tell you. I'll bring you there."

"Fine." Richard started.

Richard walked down the alley towards voices he could hear echoing against the brick walls. Two young men were smoking a joint, giggling about their nonsense. It was stupid talk, the kind friends traded back and forth. The kids looked over at him, pausing for a minute, they must have been in high-school due to their lack of knowledge on the situation.

They had a group of well dressed men, business, ceo types. There weren't many, only three, two exchanging cash, while the third was being admitted.

"Speed Dog?" One of the teens tried. "What are you doing here? You've been out for a while."

Mr. Power felt the jab of Richard's gun against his back. "Nothing much dawg."

"Brought company?" One of the teens gave a jap to the air with his chin.

"Yeah." Mr. Power smiled hesitantly.

"Yo, what's your name pal?"

"Dave." Richard thought quickly.

"Dave? What kind of shit name is that?"

Mr. Power smiled, "Yeah, he's something of a normy. I brought him for the experience. You know the kind."

"What the hell do they sell here?" Richard asked.

"Sex man. Men, women, hell we even got kids and goats if that's your thing." One of the teens spoke up.

"Yeah, none of that pornhub shit. We got real teens. It'll cost ya' though."

Mr. Power felt the gun shift on his back. "Shit."

"Go on down." A teen gave the okay as Richard and Mr. Power made there way past the door.

Mr. Power looked to watch the blank face of his captor.

Richard didn't give him the attention he asked for. He walked off towards the designated location. The stairs led to the basement, every other direction already rotting from wear and tear. The man made his way to the basement spotting three men with guns at their hips all pointing their weapons at him the moment he made his way down.

"Whoa!" The man in the center of the basement announced, "I know my customers by a first name basses, and you my good sir; I've never seen you before. Why did Zach and Phil let you in?"

Richard shook his head, "Names Dave, I heard this was the place I could get some ass."

"Well, Dave." The man pointed at Richard, looking over towards Mr. Power. "Why are you bringing old company? Frank's dead Jay, why are you here?"

Mr. Power frowned, "I was hoping for some entertainment. I'm actually bringing Dave."

Richard nodded, "How much?"

The dealer licked his lips as he smiled, "Come follow me."

Richard followed the dealer as they made their way behind yet another door. Women scantily clothed lined the walls. Some where looking back to their male counterparts as they performed intercourse. The bland, grey, concrete walls seemed to stretch for miles, door after door of steel. The cries in the air were scarring to hear.

"Welcome to the sex den." The dealer smiled, "We got everything to suit your carnal desires." He pointed down a T shaped hallway where the worse of the screaming was happening, "If you're really into dealing some damage, we have some disposable girls down there."

"Disposable?" Richard asked.

"Yeah, disposable. You need me spell it out for ya?"

"No." Richard stated. He was trying to hid it, but his blood was beginning to boil.

He looked around the place, spying on three men with guns. The two by the entry, and the dealer.

"Well, there's no leaving this place until you've tried the merchandise." The man stated.

"I'm not planning on leaving just yet." Richard stated.

Mr. Power looked towards Richard. "Let's go with something cheap?"

Richard looked back at Mr. Power, as the dealer announced some prices. "Cheap? You don't come here for cheap friend. Though if you're just looking for a hole, we do have Billy the goat. That'll cost you 70$. If you're looking for a disposable, which is becoming high demand, that'll be 1000$. Anything else in particular you're looking for?"

"1000$? Only 1000$? That's how much a life is worth to you?" Richard stated disgusted.

The dealer shrugged his shoulders and scoffed. "Look pal, you don't like the services, pay for a different one, or eat a bullet."

"Fuck you!" Richard stated, pulling the trigger to his M9. The bullet sounded in the hallway and blew a piece of the dealer's left knee off.

Richard quickly grappled the dealer and hid behind him as the guards aimed their weapons.

"Not so fast. Shoot and he dies." Richard called out.

Mr. Power looked wide eyed, grabbing the dealer's gun as he looked to which side to join. He aimed the gun at Richard. "Sorry man. But this an't ending well for you."

The dealer gritted his teeth. "There's 'ol Speed Dog, always trying for the winning team." He swallowed hard, "Are you that smart, 'Dave'?"

Richard heard the click of Mr. Power's gun, the bullet bounced off against the concrete wall, dust rising in the air. Richard ducked his head, and in the same motion fired 2 shots. The skull of Mr. Power painted the wall. The customers began to scream and shout rushing for cover or the exit.

"Damn it!" The dealer shouted, "STOP SHOOTING."

Richard pointed his barrel strait at his hostage's head. "Best listen boys."

Uneasiness grew to a tension so thick, it could be cut. "Now I'm going to ask a question." Richard started, watching the dealer grab his bleeding leg. "Where is Graffiti?"

"Fuck, you're after him?" The dealer laughed, "He's hard to find. Doesn't need much in life. He'll chew your sorry as up, if you make it out if here alive."

"Good to know... where can I find him?"

"The Dynamite, it's a night club, mercs go for contracts someone there would know." The dealer grunted.

A loud ring went off as his head was caved by a bullet. The dead body was kicked over, as Richard fired another round at the security. The dealer lied dead on the floor, and his help was in shock.

While stunned, Richard acted against his enemies. Bullets rang out as another men realed over with three shots in the chest. Mr. King took cover behind a box, as bullets came his way. He peaked over, and let four rounds loose.

Women were screaming, and men were cursing. Panic began to spread through the hide out. Two men ran up behind Richard aiming their weapons ready to fire. They both shot twice, but only hit Richard once in the arm. The injured man retaliated and fired three shots, and killed the two men.

He felt a sharp pain in his leg, the same pain that was in his arm. Richard cursed under his breath. He peaked around his cover and fired another round. This time he got another guy.

"Not too late to quit jack ass! Then i'll make your death quick." The criminal called out.

"You think I'm going to let you kill me? Fuck no." Richard replied.

He checked the clip to his gun, counting just one more bullet. "Fuck."

Richard heard his enemy load a sub machine gun. Boots clicked against the ground. Richard tried to peak, but three rounds rang out, bullets bouncing off the floor.

Brass clicked against the hard concrete as it fell. Richard moved his arm around the thick box he sat behind, letting out a blind shot in hopes to hit. He waited for a reaction, but only heard the sound of rolling brass.

"You're all out." The security man stated.

Richard looked towards the other dead men lying on the floor. He could make a run in hopes to make it, but he'd likely die in the process.

Boots clicked against ground again, inching their way forward. "Three."

Richard's heard began to pump faster.

"Two."

Richard leaped over the box and watched the man pull the trigger. He was dead meat.

The sound of gun fire rang out, echoing in the hallway. The smell of smoke and gunpowder filled the air.

Richard felt his body become freezing, despite his warm blood gushing out. Lead covered his torso. He coughed up chucks covered in blood. He heard his assailant curse.

"You're still breathing? I fucking clipped you!" The manhollered, grabbing his next magazine.

Richard looked around sluggishly. Near his face was the dead dealer's gun. The same weapon the dead Mr. Powered used. Richard tried to reach it, his nearly limp arm slowly dragging against the ground.

"Fuck no!" The criminal said, "Not today!"

As the man moved to position himself over Richard, Richard kicked his shin. The man toppled over, slamming head first into the concrete floor. Richard grasped the free gun and moved his arm over his body. Despite the struggle, he managed to pull the trigger, just in time to carve a whole through the toppled man's head.

Richard breathed quickly, trying to catch a shallow breath. He could hear himself wheeze. His eyes felt heavy and his body sluggish. He let his eyes close, as darkness began to enrapture him.

A fire burned deep inside his heart, he knew he was dying. He couldn't die, he refused. He couldn't die until he had killed his wife's murderers.

Richard rolled over to his belly, yelling as he moved to his knees, then to his feet. His cold body slugged across the hallway. He pushed against the hallway, stumbling as he moved. Richard's M9 Barrett was stuffed in his belt pocket as he held the dealer's peice.

The fataly wounded man shuffled towards te sound of cruelty. He wasn't leaving until he cleaned this mess up.

A man charged at Richard with a switchblade from around one of the doors. Richard pulled the trigger twice, dropping two shots to the chest. The man fell down, gurgling.

"Please no." The woman cried as a man kept shaking her with his kitchen knife.

The cruel man laughed at the blonde woman's pleads. Richard pointed his gun and let a bullet loose. He was disgusted by the barbaric behavior.

The woman screamed at the scene. She was covered with stab wounds all-over her left arm. She had deep cuts along her belly, legs, and torso. Nothing too lethal, but she needed treatment. Richard managed to pull the other man off the woman.

"You're free." He slurred.

The woman stared blankly at the man.

Richard tried to hold on longer but he couldnt breathe. His eyes closed, and his thoughts ceased.