As I park my car under the icy, uncaring night, I slide my mask into my jacket pocket, and enter the liquor store. Rows and rows of the venom fill the cold store, as the cashier spots me and nervously takes a step back.

He's a young man in his early thirties, sporting a green shirt, light brown hair, and black pants. His skin appears tanned, and his green eyes are full of fear.

"Woah easy buddy," he pleads, "I'll get the money OK?"

"You better have a damn good explanation for what's taking so long," I glare, gripping a baseball bat in my left hand.

"Look kid," he sighs, "sales are down. Ever since that Puirty freak came along, the younger crowd isn't buying as much."

"Younger crowd?" I inquire, feigning indifference as I sling my bat over my shoulder and walk to the back of the store.

"Dude half my business comes from shitty fake IDs," the cashier explains, standing in a more calm fashion, revealing his full height to be five foot nine, "it's not like I ID."

At this point, I'm out of sight, just behind the end of an aisle. Impure bastard! Someone outta teach him a lesson.

I put on my mask and speak, "and he didn't pay protection?"

"Snow this is my job," I reply in this fake conversation without a mask.

"You're weak!" I exclaim with a mask on, before shattering a shelf of bottles to create the illusion someone threw me.

With my mask on now, I reveal myself, removing my jacket to appear less conspicuous and making sure that I do all of this out of line of sight with the security cam.

I think of what to say and consider mimicking Puirty's oath or whatever, but I decide to cut to the chase.

"Mafia scumbag," I smile under my mask, the man clearly fooled and afraid for his life as he steps back again.

"I'd go after him but if he escapes it's fine," I proceed, knocking bottles down as I hold out my bat, slowly approaching the cashier.

"Are you Purity?" The man demands.

"I am a purifier," I reply in my twisted, mechanical voice, "I am the pure, uncaring cold. The deathly embrace of Winter. I am Snow."

"Easy Snow," the man pleads, "I'm sure you're a reasonable-"

"Don't even finish," I chuckle, "you should've carded when you had the chance, and now you get purified."

I throw my beefy, 170 pound body, at the man, and with a swing of my bat, I hear his ribs shatter as he cries in agony as I prepare to swing again, but looking into his tear filled eyes, I decide one good blow is enough.

I walk towards the back door, glaring, "never forget what happened. Next time you won't survive."

I exit, remove my mask, and return, smashing up bottles, hiding my face from the cameras with my jacket. I exclaim, "you got a week to pay!"

With that I storm out the front, knowing that going out the same door would raise questions of why I didn't attack Snow.

A job well done on both fronts, I get in my car and drive away, thinking to myself about the implications of my actions. I just actively worked for the mafia, and in a way, for Purity, against them.

It should come as no surprise that if I'm caught, I will be killed. Not arrested, killed. The mafia owns the police in this town. Half are on payroll, and the other half hooked on various shit. Good cops don't survive a month in this town.

I drive through the backwoods of this town to my trailer at the end of the street, surrounded by dying trees of Auttum. The trailer is white, and of medium size, enough for one person to live in, with a shower, kitchen, etc. Sure I have to head out to the stream behind the place to get water and steal car batteries for power, but it's been like that for years. What matters is it works.

I enter the place quietly. The air is deathly still and silent as I sit in front of the old, bulky T.V. from the early 2000s and turn on the news.

The headline is... shocking.

"New Purifier reveals themself!"

Oh. OK.

The news anchor, a dark skinned woman with black hair, explains, "a new purifier has revealed themself today at a liquor store downtown, attacking the owner with a baseball bat before fleeing the scene, the vigilante's relation to Purity, gender, and age are unknown, but authorities suspect the mysterious individual to be male, and of middle age. However there is little conformation of either of these claims. The purifiers..."

I tune out the T.V. to examine my bat, blood stained now, and I notice the wood splitting at the ends, broken by the force. I toss it onto the messy floor, and sigh, that's another broken bat. Dammit. Those aren't cheap. I'm gonna need to buy a new one.

I open the fridge and get out a soda and hotdog, tossing the hotdog into the microwave, its steady sound the only thing that breaks the icy silence as I turn the T.V. off.

I look out at the dead grass surrounding the driveway up to my trailer, dead by the chill. The cold kills all. It kills hope, justice, nothing survives the cold.

I hope Summer comes soon. I love the Summer, the blazing heat is safer than the cold, uncaring white. The Summer provides. Food, water, etc. However, Winter takes. The stream can freeze over and I can't find fruits in the forest, often leaving me strapped for cash as I'm forced to buy food and work jobs for the mob.

I eat the hotdog and chug my soda before going to bed, still wondering about the identity of Puirty as I set my mask on top of the fridge before entering my bedroom. Who is he? Why does he do this?

Why do I do this?

I decide it best to leave these questions for later. I have school tomorrow...