Alexander Scython, known as 'Anonymous', is a mercenary. He worked mostly with jobs where he protected people, often celebrities. He was sitting in the office of important businessman Elandro Sineco, who worked in the criminal empire, a large target for assassins. A contract was layed on the desk infront of him. He read it over, and smirked behind his mask. The price was low, way lower then this fat bastard was worth. He took the contract and folded it into a paper airplane, sending it flying into the air and quickly taking out his pistol, shooting multiple jokes in it before it began falling down. It landed in the wastebasket, and he left.

He was running and jumping across roofs in a housing area, now. He liked to spend his time parkouring across the rooftops when he didn't have a job at the moment. He was quite bored, mostly just waiting for something to happen. Maybe if the heroes came out he'd be able to mess with them. For now, he was stuck waiting.

The city of Los Angeles wad an interested place, to him. Everywhere he looked, something wad happening; wether it be that somebody wad getting mugged or a super was doing their job. He found it was a good place to be a merc, most other cities he tried being a merc at didn't turn out well, nobody really needed one. But this place, it seemed like everybody needed one. It was a good place for people like him.