1939, Nineteen Thirty-Nine. The number was so significant in the world's history yet he couldn't care less. His mask was heavy on his face, he wanted to take it off so much but he couldn't. Through all of his pain he still persisted to live. He wore his hair long again today, and he left his house. He walked down the street. His pistol was where it always was, on his hip. His kukri was in its special sheath on his thigh.440Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡH9FIcrnfNu
He passed a Humvee, which was full of Nazi Patrolmen heading south into Gateshead. He resented Charleston. Most of the town was a slum, full of the homeless and sick. What wasn't a slum was either Nazi territory or a wasteland. His associate told him that the Nazis were very slowly leaving Charleston, and that was good. He hated the Nazis as much as he hated the homeless that plagued Charleston.440Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHL2jP2U3kJ
He looked at what remained of the famous Charleston Shopping Mall. What were once shopping stores were now part of the slums. Sleeping bags and makeshift beds littered the once beautiful hallways and dirt covered the floors and walls. He walked further into the complex, stepping over people as he made his way to an old electronics store. The shutters were down, so he pulled them up and walked inside. 440Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡViSDpAn5nY
"Hey! Who the hell are you?! Get out!" The man inside yelled.440Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡm9asfXZMUq
440Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7vSsmmkBYo
He walked to the man and pulled his kukri out of its sheath on his thigh and stabbed the man several times in the chest. The man cried, coughed blood, and fell to the ground.
