Elias trudged through the raining streets of Solar City, wincing in pain as he desperately clutched at the wound on his side. 

He had almost gotten Lucius's right hand—almost proven himself to the council—but the fiend had slipped through his grasp. It was pathetic how he failed, battered, and beaten with nothing to show for his efforts. If it weren't for the seething anger he harboured and the longing for revenge he dreamt of, Elias would have stumbled into the nearest alleyway and let the blood pool around his body. 

Would death be more gracious than fate and grant him salvation? He wondered, though the faint whispers of his mother's voice, the remnants of his baby brother's giggles forced him onwards. Fate had been cruel to him, forcing him to go on while they had left him behind at only nine. For the first time in twenty years—since they had been killed—he was utterly alone.  

Elias still remembered the day he had frantically begged his mother to let him play outside with the other children. He had stayed out longer than promised, laughing over chalk drawings on the pavement with his friends, only to find council officers at his door. A woman in uniform had walked over to him, told him his mother and brother were gone. 

The council took in orphaned children, but their stay came at a price, they had to make themselves useful, and Elias had excelled. Stripped away from his innocence, he joined The Watchers, vowing to rid Solar City of the scum that had cost his mother her life. 

But now that he was useless, he had no right to walk into base, and with no family or friends, his options went down to one person. An elite assassin he'd managed to blackmail into becoming his informer. 

He knocked on his informer's apartment door once, twice, before breaking in through the window with the rest of his strength. The ruckus had done its job, and there he was, standing in front of a confused face, soaking wet and dripping blood all over the carpet. 

"A little help would be nice," he spoke through shallow breaths.