Eleven was one of the most mysterious men on Earth. No one knew his real name, but he’s called ‘Eleven’ because he took on eleven men at once, killing then all.

He was tall, and well respected in the streets you live in. One late night, you were leaning against a brick wall smoking a blunt.

Eleven walks past you, whistling. He notices you reach for your gun and chuckles.

“Relax, baby. I ain’t gonna try and kidnap you or anything. Ain’t my style.” he says, his voice deep and has an underlying accent that you can’t quite pinpoint.