Ocelot opened his eyes to the dirtiest bathroom he had ever seen. There was a clog of hair in the sink of the shower, scratch and decay marks all across the bathtub itself, the floor was dusty, and the tiles on the floor were cracked. The sink was completely gone, only a hole near the bottom of the far end of the bathroom to indicate a sink had ever been there, along with a mirror a few feet above the hole. Light wise, there was only one flickering bulb in the two-bulb spot above the mirror. Ocelot took a moment to gaze around the bathroom, taking in the crumminess of it, before he saw the door.

The door itself was comparatively better than the rest of the room. It was black-painted wood that was completely rendered in the american flag, each star and stripe in noticeable detail. It was almost as if the flag itself stretched towards him, beckoning him to open it.

Taking a few steps, he moved slowly toward the door, but of the corner of his eye the mirror beckoned to be called to attention, so he turned towards it. He and stared for a long time at what he saw.

The body of his reflection looked just fine, he was wearing a brown letterman jacket, buttoned up to his neck with shiny blue buttons, along with brown leather gloves, and faded denim jeans. Ocelot's head was a different story. What stared back at him in the reflection of the mirror, starting at the base of his neck, was an ocelot's head that was just a little bigger than his own, like a rubber mask. Every time he blinked, the enlarged animal head's eyes blinked back, it's, or his, neutral emotion unchanging. After a few moments of looking, the mirror crack'd without a sound, splitting the one Ocelot into ten. He turned back to the door and opened it.

Darkness was all Ocelot could see, but he entered the room anyway, closing the door behind him. He heard the clink of a small chain being pulled before the room was bathed in orange light. The room was empty except for a simple wooden chair in the middle of the room, occupied, and a small table next to it, where both the lamp and a large pistol stood. The room was completely orange, but the paint on the walls were white, the carpet a deep blue.

The occupant of the chair was a mirror of Ocelot, wearing the same letterman jacket, the same faded jeans, and the same brown gloves, though there were a few differences. His jeans were in tatters, revealing stanes, bruises, and scrapes covering his legs. The letterman jacket was open, revealing a plain white T-shirt covered in bulletholes and blood. The man sat silent on the wooden chair, his back extended, his face pointed to the ground.

The clone slowly craned his head up, revealing a large chunk of his animal head missing, including a portion of his nose and all of his right eye and ear, creating a hollow C-shape in his head. He could see the clone’s shredded brain and skull. The clone focused his right eye on Ocelot, his pupils visibly growing and shrinking. The clone stood up and began walking toward him. He moved with slow motion, as if time itself was slowing down for this moment.
When the other man was a few feet away from Ocelot, he began to speak to him, but the other man's mouth never moved.
"Do you like what you see?" Ocelot heard in his head.
"I would think that you would, seeing as how this is what you want to be." The other man walked a few more steps towards him, until he was only reaching distance away.

"You know, you could just sit back and enjoy life, go through the daily motions, but I don't have to tell you that, do I?" The other man craned his neck, his left eye meeting Ocelot's gaze.

"We'll talk again," the clone said, shaking his head and turning his back on Ocelot, "but let me ask you one question to ponder until that time comes."

He walked backed to the chair and sat, turning his head up to Ocelot with a look of curiosity in his only working eye.

"What do you like about what you see?"

********************************************
Ocelot woke up on the middle of his apartment, standing upright beside his bed, blinking a few times before focusing on the wall in front of him, though he could hardly see it. He had woken up with his mask already on, something that had started happening since he had received it. His mask was that of an ocelot, a code name given to him by his associates that was also accompanied by a rubber mask of the animal with the same name.
From the extent of his hearing, he could hear the sound of a phone ringing from his living room. He took a deep breath and opened his bedroom door. Everything in Ocelot's apartment was either white or tan. Nothing was painted, there was no furniture besides a brown folding chair in the living room, and he only owned a mini-fridge, the only things in the fridge being a couple of gallon jugs of water and enough materials to make him some basic sandwiches if he ever got hungry. The only thing in his apartment beside his fridge and his chair, was a phone.
It was an orange rotary dial phone that was sold around nineteen seventeen, with a ringer that could've woken up Los Angeles entirely. The ringer was sounding off as he walked from his bedroom to his living room, passing nothing but white and grungy walls. He didn't walk fast, he knew the phone would ring for at least a few minutes. He reached his phone and picked it off of the hook.

"This is Bear, we're on our way."

Ocelot heard the phone click. He set the phone on the hook and walked out of his apartment.

The apartment complex itself was just a simple brown brick shtick, covered in graffiti and smelling of piss. He kept his head straight while he walked through yellow cones of light, heading for the parking lot.  All around Ocelot lay the crappy poor section of southern California, complete with mexican styled apartment complexes and low-life gas stations. The only difference as he reached the sidewalk was that there was more of it to see.
Soon a white van came around the corner of the street. The van was a recent model, the rear extending even above the cockpit, allowing for more cargo in the back.

The van pulled beside him, the doors swinging open. Inside the van sat four of his associates, all of them wearing animal masks and all of them bathed in an orange light hanging from the ceiling. They all sat on the bench on the left side, leaving an entire bench for him. He climbed inside, closed the doors, and sat, looking at his companions for the night.

Jackal was seated to the very right, next to the cab. He gave Ocelot a dismissive nod and knocked on the wall next to him. The engine of the van started up and they were moving.

The Lemur brothers looked at Ocelot and laughed pitched laughs. The brothers each wore a different color mask, the brother on the right wore white, the brother on the left black. It was the only way to distinguish them.
"What does this guy even do?" White asked Black.

"More than I'll ever see you doing." Black laughed.
"Screw you," White turned and smacked Black across the shoulder, both of them laughing their high pitched laughs before White began to look at Ocelot.
"Think he's got any love for the states?" Black asked White.

"Probably not," White said, "Probably doesn't have any respect for our 50 Blessings."
"It ain't about the states anymore".
The Lemur brothers turned to look at Shark, who had kept quiet until now. Shark was seated on the far left, leaning against the doors van.

"What do you mean it ain't about the blessings?" White asked, sounding annoyed but not daring to take it any further than a slightly annoyed tone. Shark turned to his head toward them, causing the Lemur brothers to avert their eyes and stare at the opposite wall out of sheer nervousness.

"I just want a phone call." Shark turned his head back in front of him. No one spoke the rest of the ride.

***********************************

A few hours later the van jolted to a stop, causing everyone in the cabin to shift uncomfortably into each other. Shark pulled on the back door's handle and they all stepped outside. It was a blue two story house in the suburbs, nothing more, nothing less. A driveway to the right of the house extended into the backyard, the driveway itself filled with vehicles. After a few moments of the group staring at the house, Jackal turned to face the group.

"Lemurs," Jackal motioned to the lemur brothers, "take the roof. Shark, you take the basement, Ocelot, you take the front door, wait for me to come in the back. Sound good?"

The group nodded simultaneously and began walking to their positions. The Lemur brothers each gave each other a fist bump before they climbed onto the vans parked beside the house, then jumped onto the roof silently. Once on the roof both brothers produced a silenced pistol and a hatchet before waiting on either side of the windows facing the street. Jackal crouched and snuck to the back of the house, producing a staff, one end a steel ball that had cracked numerous skulls, the other a steel blade that had severed numerous heads. Shark snuck to the rear of the house with Jackal, taking a red twelve gauge shotgun he used on every outing, notorious for never needing to reload it. Shark lined up at the basement door, and waited.

Ocelot began to walk toward the front door of the blue suburban house unarmed. He had no weapon, no mannerism with which to call his own, at least not to his associates. Ocelot took notice of the commotion going on inside the house. Whoever was inside was making a lot of noise, probably some kind of party, but no one cared. Either way, a lot of people were going to die soon.

After walking up the stairs and trying to take note of the position of the sounds coming from inside the house, Ocelot stood in front of the door, waiting for Jackal. He heard him soon enough. A huge bang came from the back of the house, accompanied by a yell that just as quick turned into a choked gurgle, probably the man trying to yell and scream through a slit throat. Jackal had sounded the starting pistol.

The Lemur brothers cocked their pistols, Shark pumped his shotgun, and Ocelot shrugged his shoulders, and they all went to work. Ocelot put his right palm and left shoulder on the door, turned the knob with his left, and pushed the door open.

Ocelot took one second to survey the room and get a hold of who was inside. There were four men, each of them wearing white suits and playing poker, or at least they had been before Jackal had broken the back door. Now each of them stood up and were looking toward the hallway that presumably led to the kitchen, none of them having quite processed what was going on. There was a man next to each side of the square card table. Ocelot mentally tagged each person in front of him.

The man nearest to him, in front of the table, was One.

The man to the left of the table was Two, the one to the right, Three.

The man behind the table, Four.

One heard him coming, but by then it was too late. When One began to turn around, he shot his fist into the man's throat, effectively smashing his windpipe and crushing some of his major arteries. One stood slack jawed, almost paralyzed before he fell to the ground. Ocelot walked past him toward the other three. He picked up a knife from One’s spasming body and headed for Two. He was still turning, and had almost turned completely, but Ocelot didn't even give him that. Just as Two's eyes began to go wide, Ocelot rushed forward and stuck the knife into the man's neck. He felt his body go limp when he drew the knife out.

Three. still to the right of the card table, had seen all of this from the corner of his vision, and began to turn toward him, drawing a gun from his coat. As soon as the second man's body went limp, Ocelot pulled the knife from his neck and shot his arm out, releasing the knife at the apex and sending to hurtling toward Three’s head. The point of the knife went directly into the man's eye, causing him to fall to the ground screaming.
Four, the one closest the the hallway leading to the kitchen, having just barely registered the sound of the knife going into the second man, turned and raised his fists just as the knife sailed across the table. Ocelot began to walk toward Four just as soon as he let go of the knife. Four tried to punch at him as he walked, but just as the muscles in the man's shoulder began to twist to bring his arm up, Ocelot extended his and and punched at the man's bicep, stopping the man's punch and ripping his bicep muscles to shreds. At the same time he punched, Ocelot brought his foot up, planted it on the man's knee cap and shoved it forward, twisting the man's knee cap to the complete right of the man's leg. The man went down screaming, but he didn't scream very long before Ocelot kicked the man's throat.

Standing in the room, solitary, watching the hallway for either more men or Jackal, Ocelot listened to the first and fourth man choke on their own crushed throats. In the craze of the fighting, he hadn’t heard the torrent of screaming coming from upstairs nor the rain of bullets and gunfire coming from the basement.

Ocelot saw Jackal walking down the hall, Shark and the Lemur brothers following him, each of them covered in gore. The Lemur brothers carried a middle aged man in a white suit in between them, each brother pointing a gun to his head. The man was bald and wore a golden chain with the hammer and scythe on the end, the worldwide symbol of communism. They each gathered around, and the Lemur brothers threw the man onto the wall, where he immediately collapsed onto the floor. Apparently the Brothers had given him quite the beating, his bald head was completely bruised and battered.

"Who are you people," he slurred, "you killed... killed all my-" the man threw up all over his lap.

"Killed all your friends?" Shark leaned down to the man's level, making their equivalent of eye contact with him. "Yes, yes we did, and you're next, but first," Shark produced a blood-covered pistol he had taken from someone downstairs, "We're going to ask a question."
Shark shot the man twice in both kneecaps.

"Where's your head honcho?"
Baldy didn't answer, he just screamed and looked at his now wrecked knees, which at that point they weren't even knees, just powder. Shark jammed the gun’s barrel under Baldy's chin, shutting him up.

"Just give us an address and I'll make it end right, right now, and I swear to God, if you stop me from getting this phone call I've been looking forward too, I'll be sure to take it out on you." After Shark had said phone call, a look of confusement plastered Baldy's face, mixing with his tears.

"Phone calls... Rubber masks... I don't understand," Baldy began to breathe rapidly, his face losing color, "50 Blessings hasn't had any major operations since the Pig Butcher-" Baldy was cut off by Shark pointing his gun at Baldy's head.

"This ain't about the 50 Blessings anymore", Shark said.

"Not to you it ain't," the Lemur brothers said in unison.

"All that matters to me, is getting that phone call, and if that means taking the same steps the Pig Butcher had to take, so be it. Now, where. Is. The address!?" Shark shouted.

Baldy's lip began to tremble before he answered. "Twenty Third and Main, though I'm sure you already knew his." Tears began to stream down Baldy's face.

Shark shrugged. "Had to make sure," then pulled the trigger. The green wall became soaked in red blood.

"Well, glad we cleared that up." White said. Everyone in the room gave a nervous laugh, except Ocelot. They all walked outside and got into the van, which drove them to a random spot in L.A, where they each took off their masks -except for Ocelot- and walked home.

He walked through the yellow cones of light, past the brown and crappy apartments, up the green steps, and walked through his brown door and into his completely white apartment. For a moment he looked down at his body and noticed the blood that covered him from the previous excursion, letting some of the blood drop onto his white floor.

The orange dial phone began to ring. Ocelot walked to his corner and picked it up.

"Hi, this is Linda, from the Janitorial Committee of the United States of America. We'd just like to let you know that we've been looking over your resume and recent work, and we think we might have a position for you and your acquaintances."