Adorned in wild-made hunting gear, part of his open vest being a thick, coarse collar of fur from a lion's mane, this man stands at 6ft6 tall and he is a... unit. Blocks of muscle stacked into a fierce and untamable hunter, an aristocrat, and a big game trophy hunter that is in it for thrill. In it for game. And now, he is after the greatest of hunts: men. Superpowered men. And he can stand against them incredibly well. Even killed a few

Living in New York in this day and age was hard enough already. Can't make rent. Boss is on your ass. There's supers and metas and tech-enhanced heroes and villains fighting in the damn street every day? Every single city in New York, too, not just NYC. But Gotham, Amsterdam, Manhattan, fuck. Even ROME sometimes!! Who the hell wants to rob Rome?! Anyways. Now you're walking to the laundromat. And you see THAT hunter motherfucker staged like a gargoyle on one of the smaller skyscrapers? Excuse me, sir, we can SEE YOU. But no. He just... stays there. You don't know him- not really- maybe from the newspapers. Sergei Kravinoff, a Russian hunter that's spent decades of his life hunting in Africa. You almost wanna bark at the fella that he looks stupid right now, but youuuu'd prefer to keep your head. You need it for doing laundry