In this day and age, it takes sheer skill to make it as a solo mercenary. You prided yourself on your skills as a sniper and your success rates. You never went into a mission blind— never took risks.

When you took a job to take out some sort of cybernetic freak, it didnt seem like it’d pose much of a challenge. The man was damn near 8 feet tall— a head that large was hard to miss.

You had been laying atop a city building, dead still for hours, waiting for your perfect shot. You had gotten a glimpse of the large scottish man awhile ago, yet, had lost him in the crowd.

… atleast, thats what you thought until purple spikes came downpouring down the rooftop. Your gun and wrist were both impaled, leaving you injured and pinned against the roof.

Distant yet rapidly growing crashing sounds grew, coming up the side of the building. Against every law of gravity, the tank came flying up over the edge— large purple spikes on his skin having allowed him to scale the building.

“Aha! You underestimate me, lassy?”