EIGHTEEN YEARS LATER.
The chill in the air warned of approaching winter. The night sky was lifeless without a single star or the moon in sight. Silent, cold, like death.
On the roof of a fifteen story building were two men, one younger and the other older.
The younger man had his face hidden with a dark hood, but lifeless blue eyes peered out of the darkness. He had his arms folded, muscles bulging under his hood, his skin covered with scars, bullet holes, and tattoos. He had a handsome face, quite striking. But there was no emotion on that face.
He watched the street below, the people who hurried about trying to get home before the storm came. The young man stood deathly still one would think he was a statue.
"Do you understand your mission?" The older man asked in a gruff voice. He
