April 25th, 1989
Miami - Florida

Jacket stormed out of the bedroom, and he hadn't slept a wink knowing the media called him a monster. What he also knew was that the mobsters were questioning men who wore masks just like him. They all wanted the same thing; To know just what the hell is going on. If the Russians were going to interrogate him, he mustn't say a damn thing next time around. He lit a fresh cigarette as he looked at the newspaper and the clipping of the article involving his ruckus he made on April 16th. He picked up the clip and read it;

"...another massacre has been reported on NW 184th Street... ...string of gang related violence throughout Miami..."

Things have quite escalated since that night, and knew for some reason that the mask he used there belonged to somebody else. The blood was on his hands, but the blame belongs to 'Tony', whoever he was, wherever he hid out. He would get the straight answer whether this 'Tony' liked it or not. The blinking red light on Jacket's answering machine was starting to annoy him so he wished to get on with it and picked up the phone and held it to his ear and sat down on the couch:

"You have one new massage. Saturday: at: 9:22 PM." *beep!* "Hi, it's Kate from Hotline Miami's dating service. We have set up a date for you this evening. She'll be waiting for you at SW 53rd Place. As usual, make sure you wear something fancy." *beep!*

Hotline Miami, huh? So that's what it's called...

Jacket was curious but he would ponder this 'Hotline' later, he had a job to do. He made his way to the door and opened up when he noticed a package next to it similar to the one that gave him the tiger mask. He looked at the parcel and saw the name 'Aubrey' on the front written in black marker and devoid of a return address like the last one. He took it inside and opened it up, and found a rubber mask, in the form of a frowning pig. He looked at it more closely as he placed it back in the box and stepped outside and got into his DeLorean and sped away to his new 'Dating Service'...

THIRD CHAPTER

DECADENCE

South West 53rd Place

Jacket stepped out of the DeLorean and at an exquisite building. It must've belonged to someone with a lot of money to spare. He did not question the price and put on the pig mask. To his surprise, it was a perfect fit! When he put it on, Jacket's mind flooded with thoughts of guns; lots of guns. He felt like he was back in Hawaii, he forced this thought from himself as he opened the door, stepped unto the carpet, and ignored the security camera to his left and opened the door.

At the end of this hallway he spotted a mobster wielding a golf club. He stealthily crept up to the pinko and pushed him to the wooden floor at Jacket's feet. His anger only multiplied as he gripped his hands around the man's head and smashed open the forehead with three knocks to the ground, he was disgusted and aroused as his victim's brains leaked open.

He gripped the golf club that lay below him and marched into a hall with a magenta carpet. In this hallway, he spotted an M16 lying on the floor, and a mobster brandishing an exact duplicate. Knowing he'll be shot to ribbons if he charged down the hallway, Jacket has little options, so he tosses the golf club at his enemy with a direct hit straight to the face. Jacket approached the semi-comatose body of his enemy and bashes his face against the locked door, again ignoring a camera...

Behind this door as an obese African-American man in a dark suit enjoying a bowl of popcorn and a bizarre tape he recorded earlier. His name; Wilson Fisker. An infamous underground movie producer who sold his films to the black market and made a fortune. The one person behind his success and notoriety was his leading lady: Debra Joanne Summers, who was drugged in the cage behind him. On his screen, he saw a strange man in a letterman jacket and a mask resembling a certain farm animal. When he saw this man execute a guard on his second camera, he knew he was in danger. Good thing he hired men from the Lebadev crime family to do security. He held up the microphone and said:

"Would security please remove the man in the varsity coat and animal mask? He's making a mess in the house. Thank you!"

Aw shit.

Jacket knew he should've removed the cameras, now everyone in the building knew he was here. Having little options, he slammed open the door to his right and knocks a mobster to the ground. A mobster sitting on the couch was started by Jacket's tape that he got off the couch and charged at him with a golf club of his own. Jacket threw his club at the rival, and was sent down to the floor as well. The previous criminal he knocked unconscious, however, got up and tried to attack him. Jacket grabbed him and lunged into the man's throat, damaged his lungs with almost surgical precision and sent him to the floor, squirming and bleeding everywhere.

This is almost too easy...

The leather brown texture of his gloves was stained with the blood from his victim's throat, he grabbed the second mobster who tried to get away and slammed his head on the side of the couch, splitting his skull open and Jacket pushed him unto the cushion to bleed out, his shock overwhelmed by the schadenfreude he felt from the carnage he caused.

He took up a golf club and stood at the door in front of him. He opened up and knocked an enemy to the floor. His partner had little time to react as Jacket struck him in the jaw with the club, and bashed the first one's head repeatedly, the head was turned into red paste as the skull was smashed to dust. Jacket casually walked out of the room and picked up a shotgun that was dropped by his earlier victim and proceeded back into the corridor.

The vanilla-suited communists were caught off guard by the noise outside courtesy of Jacket as one by one he shot them dead. The corpses soon piled up as he was done on this floor, and proceeded upstairs where he assumed that his job would soon be done. Feeling he had very little ammunition left on his shotgun, he picked up an M16 and bolted up the stairs where he spotted a mobster residing near a billiards table.

Knowing full well of a potential firefight should he shoot this thug, Jacket detects a golf club behind him, grips it and bashes the criminal from behind, his face hitting the floor, staining the neon green of the table with blood. Jacket proceeded into a section that appeared to be a trophy room as he noticed mounted animal heads on the walls and a tiger carpet.

As usual, the guards here, two from the looks of it, had little time to react as Jacket bashed their heads from side to side with the club, a red mist soon followed. His hands felt like they were on fire after killing two Russians in the trophy room. Whoever lived here must've been an accomplished game hunter, he thought. Hearing a flush in the restroom ahead, he charges inside and sliced the next mobster's head clean off, prompting the half-corpse to misfire and dispense lead on the walls next to the latrines, his blood wetting the aqua brick texture of the restroom.

Clutching a fresh shotgun from his enemy, Jacket speeds out of the restroom and the trophy room and back near the pool table, he soon detects another mobster waltzing in to investigate, and shoots him stone dead next to the pot plants and a couch that he was admiring before continuing his search. Remembering another door in the trophy room, Jacket heads back there and opens it, another Russian and a camera are waiting there.

"Oh, you GOTTA be kidding me-"

His final words were cut off as Jacket unloaded a shotgun shell into his ribcage. His partner was the next to die as the pig-masked hitman opened fire and snuffed out another. Jacket was seemingly undaunted by the fact that he had so many guns to use on his enemies, and was almost aroused by the smell of gunpowder and smoke that flooded his nostrils through the plastic mask he wore. He then side-tracked out of the trophy room and inspected the next room ahead of him.

Jacket opened the door and spotted another Russian mobster standing near a bed holding a twin barreled hunting rifle. Jacket cocked the death machine in his hands and blasted the mobster's head open, a festival of gore soon followed. He soon crept back into the room and spotted one mobster sitting on a couch, and another standing next to him inspecting the headless, bleeding corpse beside them. Jacket cocked again and blew them both away with one shot left. He took courtesy and left the empty shotgun next to the men that he killed and stormed back down the stairs.

"Guess I've gotta do everything myself, huh?"

Wilson has had it. Whoever this was, it was looking for him, he feels that he has little choice but to oblige him. He soon removes his suit to reveal a gunmetal combat vest. Danielle, or 'Debbie' as everyone called her slowly recovered and looked at The Producer and demanded to get out. The Producer ignored his favorite Hooker and put on his knuckledusters.

"Now you just stay here..."

"Hey Wilson, you can't just leave me here... *coughs* you asshole... I've got nowhere to go."

"My leading lady isn't going anywhere, now shut your trap. I'm going..."

"Why don't you come back and finish what you've started?.."

The Producer ignored her again as he opened the door and found Jacket standing out in the corridor with a shotgun, and quickly recognized Wilson. He charges straight towards him but Jacket opens fire and knocks him into the floor leaving a dent in the vest. He got up again, but Jacket shot him in the chest again, knocking him down once more. He gets up again and shot him another time, denting the armor and sending him down. What a pussy, he thought. He can't even fight properly.

"Oh god.. *cough* Please, don't!"

Jacket leans down to The Producer clutches his hands around his eyes and presses his thumbs downward;

"Aaah! AAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUGGGH! *crunch*"

Jacket moves the eyeless corpse aside and picks up the shotgun and cocks it again, and proceeds down the hallway and into the room that was previously locked, when he noticed something he instantly remembered when he looked into the cage.

My god...

"Yeah. J- Just get it over with... I knew it would end this way... I knew it..."

It was obvious she doesn't know him because of the mask, and she was too drugged out to move. Jacket reaches into Debbie's cage and takes her out of it, and walks her out bridal-style into the DeLorean. After what he saw tonight, he vowed to do anything within his power to rehabilitate her and considers their future together as he places her in the passenger seat.

"Oh, my head..." Said Debbie.

"Don't you worry, you're safe now." Said Jacket.

"How... So? You killed everyone inside, including Wilson..." She replied.

"Because I just got you out of there..." He told her.

"But, I don't even know who you are..." Debbie commented. Jacket knew that Debbie would be shocked if he revealed himself after knowing what he did, but he knows she can handle it once she recovers from the drugs.

"Hey, do you wanna see something?" He asked her.

"Yeah." She paused before saying this.

"Okay..." Jacket answered before unmasking and revealing his face to her...

Back against the wall and odds. With the strength of a will and a cause.
Your pursuits are called outstanding. You're emotionally complex.
Against the grain of dystopic claims, not the thoughts your actions entertain,
and you, have proved, to be...

Debbie was surprised at seeing the face of a handsome young stranger before her that saved her life. Even though she never met this man, she liked him. She liked him a lot.

A Real Human Being... and A Real Hero...
Real Human Being... and A Real Hero...
Real Human Being...

"Let's get out of here..." Said Jacket as he hit the ignition...

After dropping Debbie back at the apartment to recover, Jacket parked to his favorite tavern; Jason's Alehouse. He stepped through the door and headed to the bar and was greeted by Beard with a small sleeve tux and braided hair;

"Hi there! What'll it be tonight?" Asked Beard. "You don't look well, sir. Are you alright? Are you sure it's okay for you to be out drinking tonight?"

"Of course it is. I'm celebrating." He answered.

"Sounds great! What's the occasion?" Beard asked again.

"I met a girl tonight..." Jacket smirked and blushed as he told him this.

"Well, alright then..! Listen, I'll make you something special tonight." He said. "Which do you prefer? Sweet? Sour? Maybe bitter...? No, I know what you want. Just a moment." Said beard as he went to the machine and poured out a purplish alcoholic beverage and placed a small paper umbrella in the glass. "Lemme top it off for you..." He grabbed a lemon, squished it and poured the lemon juice into the beverage and handed it to Jacket. "There you are."

"Thanks." Said Jacket as he emptied the concoction at a breath and handed the glass back to Beard. It was his favorite; Grape Vodka. He didn't need to ask him if it was on the house because Beard was his friend, and it was obvious everything was free when he was around. Jacket raised his thumb and headed outside the entrance and back into the DeLorean, plugged in the keys and started the ignition and drove back home to check on Debbie...