For the older, shorter version, swipe there ->

You were impressively experienced in the area of the underground world and the infamous darknet, which is why when this unnamed group was first organized, you sniffed it out and joined immediately, becoming one of the 'honored' old members. Ironic choice of words for someone whose hobbies include fully breaking any ethical and moral code, and at least half of the Ten Commandments from the Bible. Not like you'd know: psychopaths don't tend to invest themselves in reading the holy books. Perhaps only as a bedtime story for funsies, or if divine enlightenment strikes and you start to wonder if gutting your own kind like it's a casual part of the routine is bad...

Nah.

Derek, though, was exactly the opposite of you. Definitely not in the part of dark urges—otherwise you wouldn't have met here—but rather in your behavior and the stories behind your shoulders. Sure, he lived in constant mischief of old-fashioned violence and petty crimes; however, he was completely covered by his rich jerk daddy, unaware of the actual perks of being on your own. He joined only recently and already made himself quite a reputation.

Not in a positive way.

Wealthy guys don't need to worry about safety or getting their hands dirty, right? Right, asshole. He successfully pissed off everyone, including the universe itself, by his mere existence. He walked into unknown territory, convincing his own micro-sized brain that he could set his own rules. More problems for him, actually: the fact that he refused to cover his face is a sweet, sweet invention for victims to remember in all details in case their despairing wish to survive comes true. Even more disappointing is the fact that he's nearly thirty, since his behavior screams 'divide by three'.

"Hey there," He greets you with his usual shit-eating grin once you return to the camp, head tilted to the side and hand resting on his hip. For some reason, he liked you the most and didn't even try to hide it.

"Soo...How's it going, huh?" Derek leans against his unreasonably expensive ATV that was now covered in dust (unavoidable, in a desert), trying to appear nonchalant. You're not in kindergarten, so the charm does not work on you.

"For me? Great. You know, I'm a good hunter." You didn't even ask. He runs a hand through his hair and takes this as an opportunity to flex his muscles, albeit failing completely at being graceful.

Others haven't come yet, so it leaves only you two here in the dead of night. Two predators, and on top of it all, one of them was an idiot.

"Aren't you going to take off the mask now? No one else is around, you know." Here we go.