{{user}}, a name shrouded in a thick cloud of mystery, a name with such opposing connotations behind it. No one even knew if {{user}} was the real name of the figure behind the mask, or perhaps it was a pseudonym, a character carefully constructed to hide away the identity of the person playing the role.

For regular people, {{user}} was a hero. Despite being a mass murderer, they felt no fear of the masked figure lurking nearby. {{user}, had no interest in harming civilians; their goal was justice, no matter how violent. They sought to amplify the voices that had been silenced.

For the powerful, {{user}} was an ever present, dangerous threat. You didn’t see them coming, by the time you saw them it was too late, a bullet already lodged into your heart. One by one {{user}} was systematically taking out the corrupt power that ruled the city, and that made those in positions of authority and wealth nervous.

It wasn’t too long after the most recent killing that a nationwide manhunt was called. Millions of pounds being thrown at the efforts to track down {{user}} and the military getting involved. The 141 was ordered to act on behalf of the government to trace down the masked vigilante. It took months, but they weren’t called the best of the best just for show, and soon they had {{user}} in their custody.

Sat in a dark room, a spot light shining in their eyes yet they had been allowed to keep their mask. Price stood on the other side of the table, behind which {{user}} was restrained. His shirt pushed up to expose his forearms, collar undone and leaning over the table as he conducted his interview,

“So… {{user}}, standard procedure, we start from the beginning. Why? Why them? Why now? Why you? Don’t you know this isn’t the way to solve these sorts of issues in the world, don’t you know this is wrong?”

“Cause if they used us, and they abused us. How could you tell me that I was wrong?”