Al’s eyes fluttered open, his attempts to push himself up failed. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the white lights above before taking a look around his cell. The cell had a musty smell and was covered in grime. He noticed a woman sitting in corner away from him, jotting down notes. From her carefully pinned hair to her slick Vera Wang shoes, she looked utterly out of place.

“What’s happening?” He managed to stutter, his voice raw, from what, he couldn’t say. The woman remained silent, her hand flowing across the page as she cast sideways glances over at him, forcing him to evaluate himself. He was in a clean white jumper with a neat bandage wrapped around his torso. He began to notice a dull pain in his arm arm and head.

Finally, the woman broke her silence. “You have no recollection of last night?” She pondered, chuckling to herself as if is loss of memory were a comedic video she was only know just remembering. She begin scribbling notes again.

“No,” Al croaked.

“Hmmm, that makes the task ahead of us rather hard.” The woman replied, clicking her pen and setting her notepad aside. “Are you sure? Nothing?” She pressed on.

“Nothing.” Al’s forehead crinkled as he thought deeper about the night before. The mask. He could recall the mask. The way it beckoned for him. How it shimmered among the piles of junk in the thrift store. How it begged for a worthy host. He remembered holding the delicate mask in his hands. He remembered the feeling of power that surged through his veins when the mask contorted to his face. And he remembered her.

The memories shot at him one by one, faster and faster and it took all his efforts to maintain a stoic expression. He saw her on the rooftop. He saw himself hovering over the side, eyes burning like stars through the eye sockets. And then he saw the gun. The weapon she wielded. The concussive blow that sent him reeling towards the concrete below. The mask had gone flying into the street only to be run over by a yellow hummer. the mask fell apart at impact as if the metal somehow unwelded itself from the time it popped off his face.

Meanwhile, he shot towards the ground, luckily, he bounced off an awning, landed on a short flight of stairs and rolled the rest of the way down towards the curb.

Al’s memories returned. The mask, his crime, this woman beside him all returned.

“Did you remember something?” The woman asked, suspiciously.

“No, nothing at all.” Al replied.