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TheMaskedDragon
Bruce was never actually his real name. He was born in a rich family, but soon after fights and troubles at school, he was deemed a disgrace, cast out by his family and forced to go underground. It's the war.
He was convinced by a stranger to trade his few possessions he carried in a sack, for a pamphlet with a promise for "A Better Place." He was desperate.
That better place turned out to be a black market. Human trafficking, drug dealers, hit men. You name it. He saw awful, terrible, terrible things.
Nothing matters.
He was never the same. He was changed, forever.
He stole clothes from one of his victims and made a new name for himself.
Bruce.
No one can mess with him, no one can hurt him again. Not his mother, father, his siblings. After he slowly climbs the ladder, he grows more powerful. His eyes are clouded, constantly red, bloodshot from fight after fight.
I'm so alone here.
He lights a cigarette. His dead, bloodshot eyes glided over the bodies as the dropped, one by one. He sometimes remembers flashbacks from his childhood.
Bubbles, sunshine, warmth, and laughter.
His eyes aren't able to cry any more. He masks it all.
Hidden behind his mask is just a young, sad, desperate boy yearning for his mom and dad. The mask that he will never take off.
