The Grey Ravenger

The Grey Ravenger A Cog in the Cosmos
“They aren't going to make it until morning.” the doctor told Mister Wilson. “The internal damage is simply too much to overcome. At this point we must consider how we want to proceed.” Russell Wilson was a Leonin, a banker by trade, but that was about to change. He nods, “Pull the plug.”
“Came a long way for this? Anything I should know?” the man behind the counter asks, “Just cause we don't got all those laws, don't mean we we want our goods used for bad causes.” Russell snarls, “He killed my family.” The salesman's eyes open wide, and he closes the deal.
“You know it was an accident!” A man screams. His face swollen from a beating. His ribs bruised and naked. His hands tied to the ceiling above him. “How many drinks would make it on purpose? How many did you have that night? How many exactly excuses you from the murder of my wife, son, and daughters.” Russell places a blade inside the man's mouth, “How many, sir?” He cuts into the flesh and the man starts to cry and scream as he holds the man's skull in place, “How many?” Russell Wilson wasn't sure if he wanted an answer, or an excuse, or just for the man to beg for his life. What he wanted was his family back, but that wasn't on the table. His blade cuts through the flesh of his cheeks, giving him a smile he could never lose.
The detective placed his hands on the table between them, “We know what you did, no way to get out of that now, only question is how hard you want this to be?” The Ravenger was picked up after an execution. Not the first, not the last, but one of many in a line. This detective, named Xavier, was just the latest to arrest him, just the most recent to think they got their score. Russell Wilson smiles. He grabs the detective and ends his life against the desk between them, his skull breaking so easily against the steel table. Brains like batter across the formerly sterile surface. Now he just had to kill his way out. It won't be hard.
“I could use your skills.” Salvatore D'Luna explained, an older bald and fat human, with a round, but scared face. One near his eye, one across his cheek. His dark black suit contrasts with his purple shirt. He was a man who looked used to getting what he asked for. “I'll have your current... concerns, erased, and you can move forward as an agent in the shadows. You do a few... jobs... for me, and maybe all those records could disappear. You can craft a new identity.”
Russell Williams redefined himself by what he killed.
“Three years, Six hundred and thirty seven targets killed, seventy nine allies felled. I've killed more men than you have ever shot at. I have carved the hearts out of more women than you have slept with. I have collected more bounties than you have pay checks, so please, tell me again why I should be intimidated by you?” Mister Williams asked the man who stood across from him. “You have no idea who I am.”
The Grey Ravenger is what they called him, and it's what he named his ship.
“She's going by Riggs these days. She's the big money, but they all have someone gunning for them.” Salvatore explained the next contract. “The gith, she's got the most competition though, or the best anyway. You ever hear of Ravcoor Senelben? He's gunning for her too.” Ravcoor was a gith themselves, and he was known for taking out their own kind, might be fun to run into him. “Farris is likely to the easiest, not too bright, but a hell of a talker. Talked his way into being their pilot, even if he never drove anything larger than a cargo cart before. Dovrotsk is a corporate contract, a couple of rivals want him out of the way. Smart guy, has a fire glove or something, but apparently real argumentative.” Sal takes a sip of his coffee. “Captain Wish, she's got some only a minor order, but I'm considering her a part of the package. She should be taken alive if possible.” He places his mug back down and leans across the table. “The faster you can get this done, the better, I hear wars coming.”