"Those are all the events that happened during the show. The victims captured and tormented were those that harmed me the most, creating big and hideous marks and scars over my body. However, I avenged myself; I managed to bring justice to the family that framed me, not knowing I was innocent. I managed to redeem myself as I punished Victor, the one who stood by and did not do anything. I also managed to inflict pain onto the senior guard who always barraged me with Insults and undeserved sentences. The sweet part of this story is that I actually managed to find the actual killer of the girl I was accused of murdering and killed him, for putting me in that prison, although not knowing. And finally, those who gave me the biggest scar, died in the grandest way. Being violated the same way they violated and bullied me. In the end of the day however, I feel like I have not accomplished my main goal, that being inner peace. Take revenge aside, the fact I cannot sleep without thinking of all the brutal deeds I had to do in order to try and feel something different than pain, makes me exactly like the people I accused of being bad. Make me nothing but a two-faced man, which if looked the way it should be looked at, it is correct. I do regret the bloodshed that had to be spilled in order for me to complete my goal, I do regret it had to end the way it ended, but that was necessary, both for me and for my sanity. Now as mere days have passed since the final broadcast of the show, I cannot express how much terror I feel each night. Seeing the faces of those who perished in my experiment. Hearing their cries of agony and seeing their blood literally boil in front of me. Those faces and those voices never go away. They linger, and just...echo in your mind. Telling you that you are at wrong as well. Wrong for condemning those people just because I felt the need to destroy those who harmed me. Now these sins have caught on to me. I can no longer live, thinking about them. My purpose to avenge the young boy who "died" in that prison has passed on. Now Red has to be punished for what he has done. Punished by the same boy who he tried to absolve of any crime and stain left by those who placed him there. But before Martin finishes the final culprit, Red has one last thing to say. To those who experience humiliation and constant barrages of insults, stand your ground and defend yourself. To those afraid of acting, act, and prove your way in the world. With these broadcasts that allowed us to show you all how we act, we tried to intrigue and light the interest in your lives, so that those struggling to survive have some hope. To finish. Fight, fight and always fight. This is my final message! With that, with all the released episodes, you all now know the story of the red dressed man with the mask!" - wrote Martin and placed the pen by the small black notebook.
He was not wearing a suit this time, for he was finished with Red. He just needed to do one last thing before ending the final person involved in everything. Martin stood up from the chair in the one bedroom apartment, left to him from his old grandmother. It had one bed, a gas stove, a table and two chairs. Next to the refrigerator that did not work, stood one small heater that also did not function. The man passed the table, which had been collecting dust for a year and more now. The cockroaches got scared he might accidentally kill them, and quickly spread away. He did not mind them, as they rather acted as his roommates. Martin entered the bathroom, which was right by the entrance door and switched on the light. It did not work but he imagined it did. Thankfully, it was still sunny outside, which helped illuminate the two in one relief room. It was small and cramped, with the toilet taking most of the room, and the shower the other part. Without wasting time, Martin pulled down the seat of the toilet and sat on it. Right In front of him was the mirror, cracked, dirty and older than the man looking at it. His eye glanced at his reflection and for the first time since forever, he shivered by his own face. Not because he had not seen it for such a long time, but quite the opposite. He did not want to see it. What was there to see anyway? The broken teeth, with some missing from his crooked smile? Perhaps the torn part of his ear was appealing to some people? Or the deep scars left on his cheeks? Maybe the completely missing eye, the voidness of the socket that did not carry anything than messed up flesh was enough for a person to start a conversation with him? His hair at least remained nearly the same. It was a tad too long, so he used the black strands to cover the side of his face, for he did not want to look at it. As he did though, he removed it and stared at his missing eye. Memories started gushing out, but he quickly removed them. There was no need for him to remember those painful days. He did so anyway, all the time, in his sleep or when he was awake. Instead, he looked at the revolver, sitting silently on the side of the sink below the mirror. The final gift given to him by Scythe.
-So, what are we going to do now? – asked the skull masked man as Red got inside the broadcasting room.
Martin smiled looked at the other masked men that helped him through the journey of revenge, but made sure not to show his teeth and then gathered everyone as if he was going to give them a pep talk before a soccer match.
-All the money we made with the stream goes to each and every one of you. You deserve it more than me, for I did nothing. The show is you all, and for that, I thank you for helping me!
Boombox and Chains were speechless, while Hammer extended his hand. They all were loyal and hearing and understanding the depth of the plan, and finally seeing the man unmasked after all this time…it was surreal to some extent. Martin met with Hammer after he was released from prison, and told him his story. The man offered him help, in the form of those men standing in the room at the moment, and Red, back then wearing just a cloth mask only covering his side where the missing eye was, agreed. The rest was history. He got so into character he started dressing up nicely, and made himself a full-face mask. No one actually knew who he was until this moment.
-As I said before, I want you all to fight for what you believe is right! Take all the money, split it up, and go your separate ways, it is your call to do what you feel is right to do – said the man and everyone shook his hand, as he then shook the one extended by Hammer.
Martin could not help but shed a tear, for he was going to miss them, but he did not have the time to mourn them. He looked at Scythe and told him he has one last job for him. He nodded and went with him, leaving the rest to convert the donations and split them up accordingly.
And they did. Everyone got their fair share, and the group was officially over. Martin smiled, thinking of those final moments, and took the revolver. He examined it carefully and turned the barrel to his one eye. Staring down in it, he could smell the incoming death. He checked the cylinder, and was pleased to see the instructions given to Scythe were executed perfectly. Five bullets and one empty spot in the chambers. He spun the cylinder and did not look where it stopped. Now was the final game left for them to play. Both Red and Martin, for they both had wrongs, and both of them had nightmares they wanted to stop. For their mind, this was the best way to end their lives, for they ended in that prison. Martin's life ended when he entered the prison, and Red's began after they left. Now it was time for both of them to die for real this time. Logically thinking, there was nothing more for them to do. There was no way for them to integrate into society, no way for them to feed themselves. There was nothing left, than the nightmares, the horrors and the dreadful memories harassing them each and every minute left in this world. The final game.
-This one is for Martin! – declared the man with the missing eye and spun the cylinder again.
Once it stopped, he pointed the barrel to his temple and cocked the hammer down and without hesitating pulled on the trigger. The hammer then released back and smashed into the chamber…but nothing happened. Martin heard the empty sound of a shot without a bullet.
-This makes sense…Martin is already dead! – He said and rotated the cylinder again and pushed the barrel to his head.
Cocking the hammer back, he again pushed the trigger. Again, the hammer struck the chamber…and the walls painted red.