[i]Grant Wilson[/i]

Red clouded the edges of his vision, his heart pounding in his ears. His hands shook as he gripped the side of a brick wall to steady himself. When he pushed off, there was a palm print in the wall. He walked with an eerie calm, the tremors in his body the only outward show of his rage. As he walked, he found himself in an alleyway, accosted by four gangbangers, arrogant men who just wanted some action. Perhaps they thought he was easy prey, given his state of mind. No one can quite say as to their intentions. Not after what happened next. One came up and whistled in his face, waving a hand as well. The boy turned back to his friends and waved them over. 

Grant didn't move an inch, and stood stone still, hands and face still shaking. The sword was locked into its sheath by way of a prototype DNA reader in his gloves, and in his state, it wasn't going to see any action. The gun, on the other hand, was held in place only by a snap strap. The gun wasn't sentimental for any real reason; swords were his weapon of weapon of choice, and the one on his back was special, to him at least. The blade itself was made of a rare promethium/titanium blend courtesy of the League of Assassins, and the hilt was made of titanium as well, with the DNA tech built in. On the end of the hilt was a strip of orange cloth, similar to the back of its mask, minus the black cloth tied with it. 

Regardless, the banger grabbed hold of his gun and waved it in his face. Then he snapped. Lashing out like a caged animal, he slammed his fist into the banger's face, easily breaking his jaw, most likely landing him a concussion. Then, like idiots, they all rushed him. 

End result: four men beaten within a literal inch of their lives. 

The red still tainted his vision, as it perennially would, but he could no longer hear his own heartbeat. Feeling calmer, he reached a hand up and did not feel his mask. Like his uniquely crafted sword, it was of sentimental value, and his next task was to retrieve it. 

[i]Ekaterina "Katya" Dobrova[/i]

Clearing her throat, she told them quietly of what had transpired outside the mansion, of how [i]enraged[/i] he was. She told them of how she had fallen in love with the mercenary and how she thought it was something to do with his brother that had made him this way. 

When she was done, she stood back and sighed. 

"And that is my story." 

"And that is my mask."

 The deep voice of The Ravager sounded in the mansion.