In the end, the group decided to go with Cyanide's proposal. It was the simplest thod. Dianna and Kirika went first, followed by Luna. And while the girls were cleaning themselves, Cyanide and Ragnar sat on the other side of the log: the forr by will, and the latter by force. Either way, the girls' naked bodies weren't getting peeped on anyti soon, since Lust opted to be a makeshift security cara.
Neither Ragnar nor Cyanide seed to be the type to care about that kind of stuff, though, anyway. Instead, the much preferred to just have a conversation of their own while they waited.
"So, Cyanide. What made you beco an assassin?"
" What an interesting thing to ask," Cyanide replied, dodging his inquiry.
But of course, Ragnar saw through this trick with ease, and gave an unamused snort.
"Just answer the damn question, assassin."
"Do I have to?"
"You wanna fight?"
"Right now? No, I can't say I do."
Ragnar gave a smirk, as if to say, 'well?', and Cyanide gave a sigh.
"I beca an assassin because I was trained to beco one."
" What?" Ragnar frowned as if the answer confused himand for good reason, too. "You're telling you just beca whatever you were raised for?"
Cyanide gave a nod, and Ragnar laughed.
"Ha! You're more of a wimp than I thought. You disappoint , Cyanide. Here I was, thinking you had so kind of reason to beco an assassin, and the best one in the underground at that. But who knew you were just soone who went along with whatever others told you to do, like a little coward?"
Cyanide didn't respond to that. Not because he agreed with the other man's words, but because he simply didn't care. To him, starting an argunt was like killing an innocent: completely and utterly pointless. Not good, not evil, just pointless.
" Hey. Let tell you sothing, Cyanide. A bit of my own past."
"Oh? I don't believe asking."
"Shut it. You told so of yours, so it's only fair for to tell you mine. I don't want to owe you anything more than I already doso listen up, real close. I'll only tell this story once."
*****
- Many Years Ago, Earth -
Two steel toe-capped boots splashed against the rough, weathered roof of the apartnt block, creating large ripples in the wet, rainstained concrete. A massive figure stood there, like a behemoth of stone. Legs like marble pillars, clad in dark combat trousers. Torso armored with thick Kevlar. Moonlight and raindrops alike glinted off a blood red mask, one that resembled so kind of malicious knight. A harbinger of destruction.
Any normal man would have been out of place on this night, over 90 feet up on a rooftop. But this was no normal man. His na was Ragnar Creed, and he had a job to do tonight.
Police intel had inford him that in the supposedly abandoned factory building a hundred ters away in this area of the downtown city 0f Detroit, there lay in disguise human trafficking headquarters.
As per his typical position, he'd been the first to raise his hand to lead the charge in. He and the police had a dealthe police let him handle criminals, and in return, he saved the police tons of ti and energy.
Of course, Ragnar was still only one guy, and couldn't get around to every little criminal on the streets. Just the average robber or drunkard wouldn't even catch his eye, but of course, if he encountered one randomly on the street, he would be sure to step in.
Still, mainly, his focus was on the bigshots. Corrupt politicians, infamous serial killers, and entire mafia organizations. Ragnar Creed hunted down the big criminalsthe criminals that the police could not deal with, either due to the lack of strength or the lack of authority.
This was a seemingly fair deal. Both Ragnar and the police benefited from this deal on the surface. The police were saved ti and resources, while Ragnar got to do what he does best: take down criminals his own way.
But just like everything else in this world, this isn't always what it seed.
Firstly, even though the police were saving ti, money, and effort by having Ragnar take care of all the bigshot criminals, that ca with a price: their reputation. To the public, Ragnar had achieved far more than the police ever have, and people have began calling the police force 'incompetent' or 'useless'. Of course, the people had yet to find out the man beneath the mask was Ragnar Creed. Most just knew him as the Titan of Shadows. 'Silly na,' he'd originally thought, but every hero has their identity.
Second, Ragnar himself was also not extrely happy with the current deal he had with the police. Yes, he could deal with evil his own way like this, and before the formation of the deal, he was being chased down like he was a criminal himself due to his violent asures, but the current situation wasn't exactly ideal.
The deal with the police wasn't without its downsides. Ragnar was being held backeven though he was allowed to do things his way most of the ti, and the police would turn a blind eye to it, sotis, for extrely big targets, proper questioning and interrogation was needed. Unfortunately, Ragnar wasn't too big about that. He preferred more bloody interrogation thods, sothing that the police force could now allow. Both sides were growing tired of the other, and it was uncertain how much longer this partnership would last.
Of course, Ragnar was ready for that day. But right now, he had a different target in mind.
He crouched down, before leaping gracefully for such a titanic figure, 6'6 of muscle. He landed nearby the factory, almost silently - his jump had been calculated perfectly. Supersoldier genetic engineering did wonders for one's physical abilities. He stalked over to the rusty iron doors that held the factory imprisoned, his back against the wall beside them.
He put his ear to the flaking tal, hearing sounds inside - crying, shuffling, shouting.
Slowly backing away, he knew: he was in the right place.
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