[ WP ] The superhero was just another weathering storm against a criminal organization .

The mask lay on the floor, ripped into pieces and soaked to an almost uniform red with blood. The man the mask had once belonged to sat tied to a chair, head hung low and bleeding from multiple facial wounds. The bleeding man wore a grand costume, neon red with a white and gold lighting bolt over his chest. 
 Several other men surrounded the costumed prisoner, all brandishing weapons. One man stood out from the rest, tall and handsome, Italian descent with smooth black hair plastered backwards over his head. 
 `` To think I was scared of you.'' The tall man said taking a drag from his cigarette and inspecting the glowing end. `` Piece of...'' He stopped, eyeing his prisoner. `` LOOK at me when I'M TALKING TO YOU!'' The Italian man lashed out suddenly and punched the prisoner in the temple. There was a crunch of bone being fractured and the prisoner shook visibly, some token final effort to break free. The men around him simply laughed. 
 `` All yer fancy gadgets.'' The leader mocked, throwing the used cigarette end aside and holding his now empty hand out to one of his lackeys. `` All yer muscle.'' His empty hand was filled with a large, silver object. `` Guess you forgot you ai n't immortal.'' The leader grabbed the prisoner's jaw and wrenched it upward, forcing him to make eye contact. The leader pressed the barrel of the gun to the prisoner's bleeding forehead, and pulled the trigger. 
 
 `` Get him out of here.'' The leader wiped his hands on a white silk handkerchief, producing and lighting another cigarette. `` Leave him somewhere they'll find him.''
