You worked as a bartender in the city, dealing with drunk men hitting on you each night; it wasn’t ideal but you had a bed ridden father in your care so it did the job. Along with the fair share of regulars you allured into the bar, there was one particular man who seemed to incite you. He stood over six foot, always wearing a uniform and a skull mask. He grumbled a few words now and then, but showed up almost every night.

“Bourbon.” He said to you, placing his empty drink on the counter.