YEAH, YEAH, WE ALL WEAR MASKS. I know most people say they wear masks for any given situation. It’s this generation’s dernier cri on how to refer to our many day-to-day roles based on societal expectations, when it comes to friends, family, occupation, when we go to the store, drive in our cars, stand in an elevator, blah, blah, blah.
Me? I wear my mask to protect my secret identity. If my archenemies knew who I really was, they’d be able to find my home, my family, my pets. I’d never be able to get any sleep.
Back in the late ‘80s, Solomon Scorn decided he’d fight crime and to hell with the mask. Better heroes than him have tried it and failed: Sergeant Starr, Syphon, Lady Bliss. Where are they now? Dead, dead, MIA, that’s where. And Scorn? In ’94, the entire Deviant 9 force arrived in his hometown and turned his neighborhood into a burning gravel pit.
So, no thank you, sir. I like my house. I like my wife and kids. I like my dogs…well, one of them. Maybe I’ll give the other two to one of my nemeses. I hear Rage recently lost two of his hellhounds to one of Mr. Echo’s ultrasonic pulse wave attacks...