Friday the 13th, unlucky for some.
The Hawks came in low, floating over the treetops.
I closed my eyes, but still I could see them.
...on fire, burning into my mind.
Yes... everyone was a murderer.

"Are you my assassin?... my Brutus?"
"Why do you lurk in the shadows? Are you afraid to be..."

...seen things you people wouldn't believe.

How many people had I fought... and killed?

And to what end?


"The killer awoke before dawn, he put his boots on
He took a face from the ancient gallery
And he walked on down the hall"

"Appropriate don't you think?"
"20th century poets always had a way with words."

"Don't forget your new weapon on the way..."