Rain pours heavily onto the empty streets as the street lights light up the night sky.

In a near by pub, three guys are playing poker and enjoying a few drinks.

"I fold." the youngest of the three men tosses his cards face down onto the table then grabs his glass before leaning back in his chair and taking a swig.

The next guy at the table, the bulkiest of the three, leans back, the chair creaking under his weight. Glancing out the window, he lets out a sigh, "Gettin' late. What'd ya say we call it a night?"

The third older man starts to get annoyed, pulling a cigar out of his mouth, "Just play yer fuckin' hand, Buck!"

"Look I'm just sayin' we could finish this game tomorrow."

"God damn it Buck! If you fold, so help me God I'll..."

"Alright, alright just remember, I gave you a chance to walk away." putting the chair back on all four legs, Buck slowly lays out his cards on the table.

The older man throws his cards on the table in frustration, "Motherfucker!"

"Royal flush. He did warn you. He pulls this kind of shit all the time, pa." the young man chimes in.

The older man smacks the young man upside the head, "Shut the fuck up! I had him dead to rights."

"Oh yeah, you had me alright. Right in the palm of you hand." Buck pokes a finger at his own meaty hand, in a mock gesture.

The older man shoots out of his chair, causing the chair to fall backwards onto the hardwood floor with a loud bang, "You son of a bitch, I'll kill ya!" the older man grabs a beer bottle and smashes it on the table, breaking it into pieces and spilling beer all over the place in the process. Buck sits there laughing.

"You think it's funny, dead man?" the older man threatens, waving the broken bottle in Buck's face.

Someone knocks on the door.

"Can't you fuckin' read?! We're closed! Last call was an hour and a half ago!" the older man yells at the door.

The knocking persists.

"Didn't you here me, you piece of shit?! We're closed! Get the fuck outta here!" the older man yells while taking a step toward the door.

Buck and the young man stare at the door as the older man walks toward it. The knocking continues until the older man throws the door open and waves the broken bottle in the air, "Get the fuck out of here!"

All that can be made out of the figure in the door way is a black hood and matching cape. The figure raises his head slowly to reveal a white face mask with the eyes cut out. He stands in the pouring rain getting soaked from head to toe.

"What the fuck is this? Trick or treat? Get the fuck out of here before I call the cops."

"...August 27th 2006..." is all the figure in the doorway says.

All three men stare at each other then back at the figure, "What the fuck are you talking about?" the older man says, perplexed.

"That was the day my sister was raped and murdered." the figure says in an emotionless and monotone voice.

"I think you have the wrong place. The police station is on the other side of town." the older man points down the street. The figure stares into the older man's eyes without blinking then scans the pub and the two other men at the table.

"Look, I'm really sorry about what happened to your sister but I'm telling you, you got the wrong place. We can't help you with that?"

The figure looks back into the older man's eyes, again, unblinking, "No, it's you who have found yourself in the wrong place. However, I believe you can help me... Robert Triknor."

The older man's jaw drops. The other two men's eyes go wide, who stare at each other in disbelief.

"Pa, do you know this guy?" the young man looks at his father with concern.

"How do you know my name?"

"I know a lot about you, Robert. I also know a lot about your fellow comrades... Mr. Buck Whitmore and your son... Donald Triknor. I know all about your plan to kill Mr. Whitmore and take back all the money, he cheated you out of, playing poker."

Buck shoots out of his chair, "What?! Is that true?"

"Is it true, you've been cheating me?" Robert turns to look at Buck.

"You're not telling me, you believe this little punk, are you?" Buck gets defensive, redirecting the attention off himself.

"Gentlemen, please. Allow me the glory of taking your lives."

Buck takes a step forward as Robert turns back to face the figure and steps closer, getting in his masked face, "Look, I don't know who the fuck you are but I'd get lost if I were you or I might have to dig up two graves, and take off that stupid mask." Robert reaches for the mask.

As Robert takes the mask in his wrinkled old hand, a breeze goes by causing the cape and hood to fall to the ground, the mask firmly in Roberts's hand.

Everything goes quiet, only the sound of the rain can be heard pouring down on the roof until Donald pipes up, "Pa? You ok?" Donald stands out of his chair, walking past Buck and toward his dad, who appears motionless in the doorway. As Donald grabs his dad's shoulder, the mask falls to the floor and shortly after so does Robert, "Dad!" Donald screams falling to his knees. As Donald turns his father onto his back he reveals that Robert's throat has been sliced open, blood trickling out. Tears stream down Donald's face as he cradles his father's head in his arms, rocking back and forth.

Buck rushes toward the door and steps outside into the pouring rain, "You won't get away with this! You hear me, you son of a bitch?!" Buck screams into the empty streets as another breeze blows by from behind him. Thinking nothing of it, Buck turns back to face Donald, "Don't worry, buddy. I'll call the police and we'll catch the bastard who did this." Buck says, "Donald?" Buck bends over only to see Donald's throat has been slit, too, blood trickling down his chest and onto his father's face.

Buck stands, walking back into the pub, "You want revenge! Huh, is that it?! Well, come and get it, motherfucker!" Buck grabs a beer bottle and smashes it on the table. Buck cautiously walks around the pub, carefully looking under tables, "Come out. Come out. Where ever you are." Buck jumps behind the bar, "Ah ha!"

"My sister came to me in a dream; the night after she died. Do you wanna know what she told me?"

"Let me guess, she wants you to avenge her death."

"You're not as dumb as you look. She also told me how I could track you down... and kill you."

"Well, you found me."

"It appears I have. I had only hoped you would put up more of a fight."

"Why don't you show yourself and I'll do just that. I'll even send you to her so you can be together, again."

"Such a kind offer but I'm afraid I'm going to have to pass. I have some living to do."

Buck smashes a display of liquor bottles making them spill everywhere, "Show yourself and fight me like a man!"

"Tisk, tisk, tisk and we were having such a pleasant conversation. Oh well, if you say so."

Buck readies himself, gripping the broken bottle in his hand.

The figure drops down, planting his feet on Buck's back. Getting a hand full of hair, the figure pulls Buck's head back and plunging a blood covered dagger into Buck's chest while staring into his eyes. The figures long black hair hangs down over his face. Buck feels nothing but fear as he looks into the cold expressionless eyes of his killer, "W-who are you?" Buck says, petrified.

The figure smiles, "...your killer." the figure twists the dagger in Buck's chest causing a sharp pain to shoot through his body. The broken bottle falls from his hand and shatters on the floor. The figure slips the dagger out of Buck's chest then pushes off his back, doing a back flip and landing on his feet. Buck comes crashing down face first onto the hardwood floor with a loud thud. A pool of blood forms out from under the big man. The figure sheaths his dagger and within the blink of an eye vanishes again, leaving the pub a blood and liquor soaked mess; with only the heavy rain to fill the silence.