The deserted streets of Havel City lay shrouded in quiet. The glowing streetlights flickered intensely, and the stars glinted with a chill, distant light.

  Lee Beckton, now clouded in the conjoined power of two skull masks, moved in silence. The one overwhelming darkness that threatened to appear ceased to exist. Evil was in his command. As he moved through the shadows, his form melted into the night, unseen by those below.

  The thrill of the night hunt thrummed him, but tonight was not about killing. The merging of his power and Winston’s had sharpened his instincts.

  He could feel the violent pull. The temptation to let loose the raw, gritty power that coursed through his veins, but he resists. There was no need to kill he was more than just a vigilante now… He is the skull mask.

  Down an alley, a group of criminals huddled together. Their knives shone under the dim light of the alleyway and their stolen goods spilled out of their ragged bags. Lee spied from above, perched silently on a ledge.

  Without a sound, he dropped swiftly into the alley in front of them as a ghost became visible.

  “Who the hell is this? One of them said pulling out a blade.

  Lee didn’t answer, he simply moved.

  In a millisecond, he was on them, but now with the ruthlessness he once relied on. His movements were quick and precise, he twisted the wrist of the first man sending his back on the ground.

  Lee proceeded with the second target delivering a swift kick to the back of his leg had him shattered but alive. Before the hooligans could respond, Le was among them, his strikes methodical, disabling without delivering a killing blow.

  The last of the group a burly man swung a crowbar targeting Lee’s head where he ducked smoothly and then smashed the crowbar user to the ground slamming him. Pinning him down tightly with his one-hand face inches away from his opponent.

  “You resist me,” Lee whispered

  Before Lee could finish, something sharp sliced through the air.

  A knife aimed at his back embedded itself deep in his shoulder. The criminals regrouped, seeing their chance with more blades coming towards Lee.

  Lee faltered. He was outnumbered and they were relentless.

  Blood splattered across the alleyway. Knives and crowbars rained down on him tearing through his robe and cutting his skin. The criminals thought they had the upper hand.

  But Lee… Smile.

  The pain was nothing. The attackers drew back watching in disbelief.

  The wounds that had gushed blood began to close. His body regenerated with frightening speed as the torn flesh knitted back together.

  The criminals stood frozen with their weapons hanging limply in their hands. Lee rose to his feet slowly. His darkness flowed around him.

  “You can’t stop me, but you can stop yourselves,” Lee said calmly.

  The flicker of streetlights reflected faintly in the blades around him, dancing in the trembling hands of the criminals. Lee stood in the centre of the alley, the weight of their fear palpable. His eyes burned red through the sockets of the skull mask, and his form was bathed in shadows, the swirling darkness within him threatening to break free.

  Yet, as he watched their fear, his mind was steady, locked in an internal dialogue one that had begun the moment the masks merged.

  His muscles shuddered with energy begging to be released. The power he inherited from Winston brushed through his veins asking him to paint the alley in re.

  “You’ve seen enough blood; This is about Justice I no longer represent vengeance,” Lee told himself.

  The burly man who swung his crowbar staggered to his feet, being dazed. He picked up back the weapon.

  Lee stepped forward repeating the word “Control”.

  The man swung wildly but it didn’t matter to Lee as he yanked the weapon out of his attacker's hand tossing it aside as if it was nothing.

  “You could break him, you could break them all” The thought crept in, unbidden as he stared into the man’s terrified eyes. His grip tightened instinctively, and for a brief moment, the temptation was on high alert.

  But then he loosened his grip, releasing the man with a shove sending him collapsing to the ground.

  Without saying anything further, Lee marched forward, painstakingly destroying the remaining crooks. Each stroke was purposeful and controlled. He did not kill, despite the fact that he could have easily done so. One by one, they collapsed to the ground, unconscious but alive.

  As Lee stood over the final fallen individual, his breathing calm, a familiar figure appeared from the shadows at the far end of the lane.

  Detective Luke Pierce watched calmly; arms folded over his chest. The experienced detective had been following Lee for many days, fascinated and concerned in equal measure.

  Lee turned to face him, sensing the detective's presence before speaking. The blackness that encompassed him receded somewhat.

  "Impressive," Pierce said, coming forward with a hushed voice. "I've seen what you're capable of, but tonight... you showed restraint."

  Lee's flaming crimson eyes faded, and he took a little sigh. "I need to keep it under control. "If I don't..."

  Pierce nodded, though the concern never left his face. “And what if one day you can’t? That kind of power... I’ve seen what it can do. To the people wielding it. To the people around them.”

  Lee’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond right away. He was well aware of the weight of his power...the same power that had consumed Winston. But he wasn’t Winston. He couldn’t be.

  “I won’t let it happen,” Lee finally said, his voice firm. “I’m in control.”

  "Well, I hope for all our sakes that you're right," Pierce remarked, sliding his hands into his coat pockets. "I'll be watching."

  Without saying anything further, Lee moved back, allowing the shadows surrounding him to coil once more. He did not remain long. His body rose off the ground, and he was flying in seconds, disappearing into the darkness.

  Pierce remained behind, watching as Lee disappeared into the sky. The sound of distant sirens grew closer, but he remained still. The alley was silent again, except for an odd grunt from the unconscious crooks.

  Luke looked around once more to ensure that the environment was clean. He had no notion that invisible eyes watched him from high above the city.

  An Hour After Luke left

  The flashing lights of patrol cruisers threw an odd glow over the alley, painting it in red and blue strokes while cops swarmed around, attempting to make sense of the chaos. It wasn't anarchy in the usual sense, but there was an air of rawness and danger. Blood soaked the crumbling pavement, yet it didn't form lethal pools. Instead, people were slumped, alive but shattered.

  Darris Mahony emerged as a fresh face.

  Getting out of a black armoured truck. His boots crunched across the gravel as he went towards the alley, catching the police's attention with his broad shoulders and powerful stature. He exuded power, a guy who did not have to raise his voice to be heard.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  "Status?" he hissed at one of the policemen, who sprung to attention.

  "Sir, we have a strange one here." A group of gangsters attacked hard, but none of them died. It appears that they were put down with precision brutal but intentional. We believe it may be the vigilante." The officer's voice faltered slightly.

  Darris offered a quick nod. His icy blue eyes scanned the situation with cool calculation. He hadn't witnessed the work of this so-called Skull Mask firsthand, but he'd heard the rumours and whispers of a person who struck like a storm, efficient and brutal. But spare lives? That was not normal.

  The lane was dark, with just a few flickering streetlamps providing illumination. His gaze was pulled to the trail of blood. It shimmered strangely in the half-light. Darris scowled and knelt alongside it, his eyes narrowing at the slight glimmer coming from the black liquid. He reached down and touched the edge of the stain with his gloved fingertips. The blood felt warm and almost unnatural.

  "Get over here," Darris instructed one of his guys, who promptly brought a little bottle from his satchel.

  "Sir?" the guy enquired as Darris took a sterile swab of the shimmering blood.

  "This isn't from the attackers," Darris replied quietly but confidently. "This is the vigilante's blood."

  The guy cocked an eyebrow but said nothing as Darris gently sealed the container. The radiance was weak yet distinctive. "Whoever this cloaked creature was, they were not really human. "At least not anymore."

  Darris stood to his full height, his gaze sweeping across the whole of the scene. His men, all well-trained and efficient, started cleaning up the mess. The offenders groaned as they were placed onto stretchers; none were critically injured, but their wounds will serve as an unpleasant memory of their meeting.

  He scanned the surroundings one more time before returning to his group. "I need this scenario tidied up. No traces were left behind. We do not need anyone probing around here." His voice was calm and controlled, yet there was an undercurrent of desperation.

  One of his guys, a tall, stern-looking operator, moved forward. "What about the blood, sir?"

  Darris smiled tightly, his gaze fixed on the blazing stain that was now barely visible on the ground. "We will investigate it at the base. If this vigilante has anything unique in his veins, I'd like to know what it is. It could simply give us an advantage.

  He slipped the vial into his jacket and gestured toward the SUV. "We’re done here. Let’s get back to base."

  July 1st, 1997

  The next morning, Taz's little, crowded flat seemed tense. Sunlight rushed through the dirty slats, striking sharp rays across the room, but the brightness did nothing to lighten the oppressive atmosphere. Lee reclined on the worn-out couch, tired from the night before. The power he now wielded a combination of his skull mask and Winston's buzzed beneath his skin, a steady hum of energy he couldn't turn off. He did not want to.

  Taz, who stood across from him, paced the room, his stocky form tensed. His boots thudded on the hardwood floor at a regular pace. He would occasionally cast a worried look towards Lee.

  "You got to talk about it, man," Taz eventually said, stroking a hand across his bald head.

  "You threw a bombshell on us last night. Combining masks with Winston... That's no little matter. I mean, you don't feel...different?"

  Lee looked at him, his eyes calm but concealing the turmoil within. "I am fine," I told you, Taz. "I'm in charge."

  Taz stopped pacing and rested against the wall, his arms crossed. "You say it now. But I witnessed what the mask did to Winston. What if it's doing the same thing to you but you don't realise it?

  Before Lee could reply, the front door flung open. Maya stormed in, her blonde curls bouncing with the force of her arrival. She wore her regular grey sweatshirt, but her face was tense with apprehension. When her gaze fell on Lee, her demeanour softened for a brief time.

  "You told us last night, Lee," Maya stated, her voice calm but forceful. "You fused with Winston's mask. But you did not tell us how you are feeling. "Really feeling."

  "I've told you. "I am fine." Lee's voice came over more defensively than he meant. He sensed their anxiety. But he also felt the force coursing through him. The excitement of it. The control. He required that control.

  Maya moved closer, her arms securely wrapped across her chest. "We are worried about you. You are stronger today, but at what cost? Winston was engulfed by his own darkness, and now... you have it, too."

  Lee clinched his jaw. "I am not Winston." "I can handle it."

  Taz asked, “Are You sure ?”

  "I'm in control," Lee said, but this time his voice trembled slightly. He could feel their scepticism pushing down on him, and his own misgivings echoed deep inside. He could not afford to lose control. Not now. Not ever.

  Maya griped, her face softening further. "Lee, we are your buddies. We are here to help you, not to fight you. But you must allow us in. We need to know if this mask situation gets out of hand."

  "I said I'm fine!" Lee snapped and stood suddenly. The burst of power beneath his skin ignited, but he swiftly pulled it back down. He took a deep breath and ran his hand through his dishevelled hair. "I am not going to turn into Winston. I made the right choice”

  "Alright," Taz eventually answered, his voice soft. "But just know that we have your back. If you start losing control, we will be there. Please do not shut us out.

  Lee gave a stiff nod. "I won't."

  Elsewhere…

  The offices of the International Protection Council were located deep beneath the ocean's surface. Encased in steel and glass, the massive complex was alive with activity agents, scientists, and analysts working ceaselessly to keep global dangers at bay. Despite its immaculate, sterilised hallways, something sinister simmered.

  The leader of the IPC, Amir Podolski, sat in his command room, looking at a giant digital display projected on the wall in front of him. Satellite photos of Havel City flashed in real time, highlighting areas of interest such as alleys, abandoned buildings, and crime scenes. One frightening figure appeared in the centre of each picture, highlighted in blood red.

  Skull Mask.

  Podolski's piercing eyes narrowed as the video was repeated. A tall, gloomy guy wearing black attire, his face concealed by the eerie mask. The figure glided like a vapour, in and out of the darkness, leaving unconscious bodies and shattered criminals in his wake. Not dead, yet barely holding on to life. Podolski had seen enough to understand the vigilante's cruelty. But that was not what bothered him.

  "He's different," Podolski said to himself. "It's more regulated now. "He's developing."

  The door behind him hissed open, and Darris Mahony stepped inside with steady, strong steps. His appearance demanded respect muscular, with an aura of harshness barely hidden below a veneer of professionalism. He stood before Podolski with his dark blue eyes fixed on the television.

  "Sir," Darris Greeted.

  Podolski did not turn. "The vigilante," he said, his voice low and clipped, "the Skull Mask has become a problem. Since his interaction with Winston Wright, our monitoring has revealed a rise in his strength. But I'm concerned about more than simply his ability. He paused, allowing the weight of his words to sink in. "It is his restraint. He's growing more precise and lethal, and we don't know who he is."

  Darris crossed his arms across his chest, his expression impassive. "You want me to find out?"

  Podolski turned to confront him, his eyes glittering with steely desire. "I want you to accomplish more than that. I want you to break his life apart. Discover who this man is, where he comes from, and why he has become this... creature. I want to know every detail, no matter how little. I don't care how many strings you have to pull or what techniques you utilise. This Skull Mask poses a threat not just to Havel City, but perhaps to the entire globe.

  The gravity of the sentence hung in the air, and Darris' eyes flashed slightly. "You believe he's that dangerous?"

  Podolski nodded, his face bleak. "Winston Wright was a formidable guy, a criminal genius with riches and an army of men at his disposal. And the Skull Mask beat him. Alone. He isn't human anymore, Darris. "He's something else something we must control or eliminate."

  Podolski returned his attention to the monitor, which was flashing with additional crime scenes, each more horrific than the previous. "The public regards him as a hero, a symbol of justice in the shadows. But we know better. People like him never stop. They don't care about law and order; they care about power. And when persons like him get excessive authority, the world suffers. "We must stop him before he becomes unstoppable."

  After the meeting with Amir

  In the murky, crowded backroom of the agency, Darris Mahony sat at a hefty steel desk, the only sound disturbing the hush being the faint hum of the building's air conditioning. The mood was stifling and filled with expectation. The solitary overhead light flickered intermittently, producing weird shadows on the walls, and adding to the room's claustrophobic atmosphere.

  He placed the little vial of blood he had taken from the alley the night before on his desk. It glimmered softly in the light, creating an unusual, almost frightening atmosphere around the dark liquid. His gloved fingers caressed the edge of the vial as he sat back in his chair, deep in meditation.

  Lee Beckton, the Skull Mask Vigilante.

  Darris knew Lee had the physical strength to smash him without even trying. The young vigilante's strength, speed, and power were unlike anything Darris had ever experienced. But Darris had always depended on his knowledge and cunning. And now, gazing at the bottle of blood, he wondered if this was the answer, whether Lee's blood could reverse the situation.

  The hazards were evident. Whatever power Lee possessed had transformed Winston, once feared throughout the city, into something greater. Then Lee had conquered him. But Darris was not Winston. He wasn't a fool to succumb to blind wrath or lunacy.

  His fingers tightened around the vial. He'd been thinking about this moment ever since he noticed the sparkling smear on the ground. Could Lee's blood also transform him? Could it transform him into something more than human, capable of rivalling the vigilante? Or will it ruin him, transforming him into a mindless beast?

  Without hesitation, Darris went into his desk drawer and took out a syringe. His actions were fluid and controlled, as he gently pulled the black, shimmering blood into the syringe. The liquid appeared almost alive, swirling gently in the glass tube. He could feel the buzz of power even before the needle entered his flesh.

  "This is it”. He had waited for this time.

  Without hesitation, Darris injected the blood right into his arm, the chilly needle gliding under his flesh. When the blood reached his veins, nothing occurred. He gazed at the syringe, his mind swimming with possibilities. Had it worked? Had he miscalculated?

  He slowly began to feel it. A burning surged from his arm, quickly spreading throughout his body. His muscles trembled uncontrollably, and he gasped, clutching the edge of the desk as his vision clouded. The world around him shifted, and his pulse hammered in his chest harder and faster.

  His eyes started to alter. His irises faded from blue to white, gleaming gently as if lighted from inside. His pupils vanished completely, leaving just two milky white orbs. He laughed softly and shakily as he gazed into a cracked mirror across the room and saw his reflection.

  Suddenly, everything went dark.

  Darris awakened in the Skull Realm, which felt both exotic and terribly familiar. The air was chilly, colder than he'd ever felt, and the sky above him was a whirling mass of black clouds and crimson lightning, throwing an eerie glow across the barren terrain. Jagged mountains loomed on the horizon, and the ground underneath him was shattered and lonely, littered with broken bones and the ruins of ancient conflicts.

  "Do you think you understand the power you've claimed?"

  Darris froze. The voice was old and authoritative, with a deeper undertone that made his skin crawl. Slowly, he turned to face the person emerging from the swirling mist.

  It was The One.