Over the next few weeks, Max embedded himself deeper into the Masked Killas. Every night brought a new task, each one more brutal than the last. But he did not give up, to the point of getting his own face mask, with a normal expression face as nobody knew Max's past.
He had to keep up the act, had to make them believe he was loyal to their cause—even if it meant crossing lines he'd sworn he'd never cross. In those tense moments, he clung to one thought: he was doing this for his friends, for the people hurt by this gang.
Ryan, however, remained a mystery. Cold, calculating, and detached, he rarely spoke unless necessary. He seemed almost mechanical in his approach to violence, like he was just following a script that had been drilled into him. Despite their shared history, Ryan showed no signs of recognizing Max. His mask—the sad cartoon face—never came off, as if it was permanently attached, hiding whatever humanity might be left underneath.
One night, Max's loyalty was put to the test in a way he hadn't anticipated.
The Masked Killas had received orders from Victor, their leader, to eliminate a small-time gang that had encroached on their territory.
"Greetings, all my loves! It is i, Your lead. Today I have some exciting news, We will be raiding a small gang!" The leader then proceeds to explain them the information.
It was supposed to be a message—a brutal display of power to remind everyone who controlled the streets. Max, still new to the group, was assigned to accompany Ryan and another veteran named Trey.
As they drove through the city in silence, Max felt his heart racing. He knew this mission would end in bloodshed, but he couldn't afford to hesitate now. Ryan sat in the passenger seat, his fingers tapping a steady rhythm on the dashboard, his masked face turned towards the darkened streets outside. There was something eerie about his stillness, like he was completely at peace with what they were about to do.
When they arrived at the gang's hideout—a rundown apartment building on the edge of the city—Ryan turned to Max. "Stick close. Watch and learn."
Max nodded, swallowing his nerves. As they stepped out of the car, Ryan signaled for silence, gesturing for Max and Trey to follow. They moved like shadows, creeping through the dimly lit hallways, the only sounds their quiet footsteps and the distant hum of city noise outside.
They found the rival gang members in a cramped, dingy room filled with the stench of smoke and cheap alcohol. There were three of them, lounging around a makeshift table, unaware of the danger that had just slipped through their door.
Ryan didn't waste a second. He stepped forward, pulling a gun from his jacket and firing two quick shots, each one landing with brutal accuracy. The first two gang members slumped over, blood pooling beneath them. The third froze, his eyes wide with terror as he realized what had happened.
"Please… I didn't mean to cross you guys," the man stammered, backing against the wall.
Ryan tilted his head slightly, regarding the man with a cold, unfeeling gaze. "It's not about what you meant," he said quietly. "It's about what you did."
He raised the gun again, but this time, he handed it to Max. "Finish it."
Max's heart pounded as he looked down at the weapon in his hand. This was his chance to prove himself, to show Ryan he could be trusted. But could he actually do it? Could he cross this line?
He glanced at the terrified man, then back at Ryan, who was watching him intently. Max kept on breathing inside his mask. He knew he had no choice. He couldn't afford to blow his cover now.
With a deep breath, Max raised the gun, his hand steady as he pulled the trigger. The gunshot echoed in the small room, and the last gang member fell silent.
Ryan nodded approvingly, a faint hint of satisfaction in his eyes. "Good. You're learning."
As they left the building, Max's mind raced. He had just taken a life—a decision he could never take back. But he reminded himself why he was doing this. He was deep in enemy territory, and every step he took brought him closer to Ryan, closer to understanding the gang's inner workings, and closer to justice.
The days that followed were grueling. Max was quickly becoming a trusted member of the Masked Killas, handling increasingly dangerous jobs and earning the respect of his fellow gang members. But with each task, he felt himself slipping further into the role, the line between right and wrong blurring with every act of violence.
Ryan, however, remained as distant as ever. Despite their time spent together, he rarely acknowledged Max outside of missions. It was as if he saw Max as just another tool—a weapon to be used and discarded when no longer needed.
One evening, after a particularly brutal mission, Max found himself alone with Trey in the gang's hideout. Trey was a grizzled veteran with a scar running down his cheek and a permanent scowl etched into his face. He had taken a liking to Max, often sharing stories from his years in the gang and offering advice on how to survive.
"You've done well, kid," Trey said, taking a drag from his cigarette. "Not many make it this far without cracking. Ryan seems to have taken a liking to you, too. That's rare."
Max leaned back, trying to act casual. "What's his deal, anyway? Ryan, I mean. He doesn't seem like the others."
Trey chuckled, shaking his head. "Ryan? He's a special case, alright. Joined up young, had a rough past. Victor took him under his wing, turned him into his little puppet. Now, Ryan's one of the most feared members of the gang. Cold as a fucking ice, that one. You'd do well to stay on his good side."
Max filed that information away, his mind racing. So Ryan was close to Victor, the leader of the Masked Killas. If he could find a way to exploit that connection, he might be able to get the information he needed to bring them both down.
As the weeks went on, Max noticed something unsettling. The violence, the thrill of the missions, the adrenaline—it was starting to feel… normal. He found himself slipping deeper into the role, becoming the person he was pretending to be. It scared him, but he couldn't afford to let those doubts show.
One night, Ryan called him aside after a successful mission. They stood alone in a dimly lit alley, the city's distant sounds muffled by the silence that hung between them.
"You've done well," Ryan said, his voice low and measured. "Better than I expected."
Max nodded, unsure of where this conversation was going. "Thanks. I've learned a lot from you."
Ryan tilted his head, studying Max with an intensity that made him uncomfortable. "There's something different about you. You're not like the others. You remind me… of someone I probably saw."
Max's heart skipped a beat. Did Ryan recognize him? Had he seen through the act?
But Ryan didn't press the issue. Instead, he handed Max a small envelope. "Victor wants to meet you. He's impressed with your work."
Max tried to hide his shock. A meeting with Victor was exactly what he'd been hoping for, but he hadn't expected it to come this soon. He took the envelope, nodding his thanks.
"Remember," Ryan said, his voice hardening. "Victor doesn't tolerate failure. You make one wrong move, and you won't live to regret it."
Max swallowed, nodding. "Understood."
The next night, Max found himself standing outside a luxurious penthouse overlooking the city. The guards at the door gave him a once-over before letting him inside, and he was led through the dimly lit rooms to a private lounge where Victor waited.
Victor was nothing like Max had expected. He was well-dressed, with a calm, almost charming demeanor that contrasted sharply with the ruthlessness Max knew he was capable of. Victor smiled as Max entered, gesturing for him to sit.
"I've heard a lot about you, Max," Victor said, his voice smooth and controlled. "Ryan speaks highly of you. That's no small feat."
Max forced a smile, trying to keep his nerves in check. "I appreciate the opportunity, sir."
Victor studied him, his gaze piercing. "Tell me, Max—what do you want out of this? Why join the Masked Killas?"
Max had prepared for this question, but it still felt like a test. He chose his words carefully. "I grew up on these streets. I know what it's like to have nothing, to be pushed around. I joined the Masked Killas because I want power. I want to be in control of my life."
Victor nodded approvingly. "Good answer. That's exactly what we offer—power, freedom, respect. But there's a cost. Loyalty. Once you're in, there's no turning back."
Max nodded, playing the part of the loyal recruit. "I understand. I'm ready to do whatever it takes."
Victor leaned back, smiling. "I like you, Max. I think you'll go far in this organization. Keep up the good work, and you might just find yourself with a position of real power someday."
"You know what? Let's have a friendly dinner in this same area tommorow night. Me, you and Ryan all together! Okay?" Victor invites Max,
Max feeling nervous accepts the invitation, "Y-Yeah sure sir!"
As Max left the penthouse that night, he felt a surge of both triumph and dread. He was closer than ever to his goal, but the cost was becoming clear. Every step he took deeper into the Masked Killas, every connection he forged, was pulling him further from the person he used to be.
And then there was Ryan. Max couldn't shake the feeling that Ryan knew more than he was letting on, that he saw through the mask Max was wearing. He would have to be careful. One wrong move, one hint of doubt, and he would be dead.
Then we get to see William getting ready by wrapping his fists with gloves. William is very furious, he cannot let his mother get in danger, so he has to take the risk of rescuing Daniel.
"Alright, let's get this fucking show started."
As soon as William finished speaking, Daniel suddenly entered the house.
Max out of the blue says, "I have a plan!"
"What plan?" William asks him,
"I've been invited to a dinner with the Masked Killas leader, Victor. While I keep him distracted, I need you to quitely kill every gang member and finally deliver justice by taking out Ryan and Victor."
"Wait who's Ryan?" William asks out of curiosity,
"Dude, It's the masked person who killed the girl that helped us, and also who defeated you in the battle." Max replies,
"Oh, well that is a good plan! Do you really think it will work though?" William asks,
"Yes! Just trust in me alright?" Max replies,
"Alright! So when is the dinner?" William asks,
"Tommorow night." Max replies,
"TOMORROW NIGHT?! HOW THE HELL AM I GONNA PREPARE TO KILL EVERYONE IN ONE DAY?" William yells in shock,
"What?! I thought you were very strong bro!" Max replies,
"W-Well that I sure am! BUT HOW AM I GONNA-"
William and Max continue to have their conversation through the night.
Until the next morning, everything changes.
"So mate! You ready?" William asks Max,
"Hell yeah! Were gonna win this shit!" Max replies,
Suddenly, William feels a strange, unsettling tension creeping over him, a gnawing sense of dread tightening in his chest, as if he somehow knows Max is in danger—maybe even about to die.
His mind begins to race with fragments of worry and fear, images of worst-case scenarios flashing through his thoughts.
He tries to shake it off, but the feeling only grows stronger, pushing him to think more deeply, to consider every small, missed detail that might explain this terrible premonition.
"You good?" Max asks,
"Yeah man all fine!"
William ignores the feeling and leaves the house with Max.
But who could know, if William was actually.... Right?
As the day turned to night, William and Max reached the residence of the Masked Killas.
"Okay, it's game time. We can't back down now alright?" William talks to Max,
"Yeah I know! I've been waiting so long for this fucking moment." Max says,
"Hey, and uh—maybe try to be careful alright?" William warns Max,
"Pfft! Ofcourse! Were gonna win right?" Max replies,
"Y-Yeah, alright see you!" William says,
They both go in different directions,
Max enters the residence and William goes through a mysterious looking path.
Read chapter 6 soon!