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Just Another Lone Wolf Part 2
By Zack Bouis
Gray approached his contact in Independence Port, hoping that whatever
news she had about the Council could wait until the morning.
As she saw him, she motioned for him to come over and look at her
laptop. Looking down the tired scrapper noticed that the data displayed
was a long list of names.
Christine began to explain. “I was looking through the info that
the Council had on all these groups and I found a complete list of all
high ranking bosses within the Family, along with a list of perpetrated
crimes, most of which aren’t anywhere in the police
She scrolled down and brought up a particular name. “This one
here is an assassin whom the Family trusts to find out traitors and
moles within their ranks and hunt them down.” She clicked the
mouse and another list was brought up. “These are all the people
that he’s murdered.” The list was comprised of low level
Family goons who sold out to the police. There were some of slightly
higher status, hunted down because they tried to leave and there were
also some undercover cops on the list. As he read all this Gray
wondered why his contact was showing him this. The Council was
Christine’s specialty and what was so important about this one
guy? The Family probably had plenty of Mooks like this.
Continuing down the list, a name caught his eye. Following his gaze
Christine said. “Gray I know your father was killed while working
undercover with the Family and I think this is the one who killed
Upon hearing this Gray Wolf stepped back from the computer. When he was
a child, growing up in Paragon City, he lived a happy life. But, his
father was a cop, a well respected officer on the force. He had worked
undercover, moving ever closer to finding out more about the
Don’s operations, but eventually he was found out.
It had been in a seedy bar by the docks in Independence Port, a Family
hangout. Without warning someone sitting at a nearby table produced a
shotgun and blew the head off of the man sitting at the bar. That was
how a good cop and father had died. The cops knew that it would be
impossible to find the killer, it would mean penetrating the Family on
a scale they weren’t capable of. But now after all this time, the
Family assassin had been revealed.
Christine tried to speak up but Gray didn’t feel like listening
to her unemotional, analytical approach to these problems. He wanted to
take action, and he was in Independence Port at night, find an unlocked
warehouse and there’s Family goons inside.
He rushed off and, sure enough, found a building containing mobsters within minutes.
Tommy “The Mouth” Leoze sat at a table watching a cheap,
tiny, black and white T.V. Sitting next to him was Tony “The
Killer” B. The reception faltered and Tommy got up to adjust the
rabbit-ear antenna. “One of us has got to spring for a
DVD-player,” he said to his partner as he sat back down. When he
was in his chair again he heard an odd, continuous, noise. He swore
under his breath and got up to adjust the T.V. again. As he stood he
realized the sound wasn’t coming from the television, but from
behind them, and both men spun around and reached for their guns.
Tommy’s hand managed to latch around the handle of his weapon
before a long piece of steel made contact with his neck. Tony actually
managed to clear his holster before an ancient Japanese sword broke
through his stomach cavity.
Neither of the men were able to raise any alarm and as Gray continued
through the warehouse none of the other gangsters would be allowed to
either. Despite his lack of stealth, the speed that he seemed to
possess now in his rage made it so that every man he killed could
barely utter a word before meeting their demise.
He continued through the entire structure in this manner, and after he
had hacked his way through the last Family member in the building he
said to himself, in between long heavy breaths, “I’m not
It continued this way throughout the rest of the night. He found every
Family-owned, warehouse, front building and hideout he could and
slaughtered all inside. He could no longer control himself and the idea
that he was breaking the law was little consequence to him as long as
he had a way to vent his rage.
As dawn was breaking he finished off the last man in another warehouse
that he had found. As he stood there, alongside the corpse of the man
he’d just slain, he fell to his knees and put the point of his
sword to the ground, while he held onto the handle for support.
His trembling hands slid off the weapon and he fell to the ground in exhaustion, unconsciousness already sweeping over his mind.
Greg Williams sat on the living room
floor in his Paragon City apartment. His six year old hands swung green
skinned action figures through the air, occasionally smashing them into
each other with the sound effects to match. Teenage Mutant Ninja
Turtles were all the rage right now. He picked up another toy, this one
red and blue, and battled it out with his adolescent amphibians.
Statesman always won when he played this game.
His game ceased when he realized his
father was back home. He was glad to see his dad back again but his
mother put a hand to her mouth and rushed over to his father. She
didn’t ask what happened but filled a bag with ice and put it on
the bruises covering the man’s face.
Years later, the same boy wakes up in
bed, slamming his fist down onto his alarm clock, while his eyes open
to the familiar site of his room. The old action figures that he played
with when he was younger still sit on top of his dresser. Along with
all the favorite playthings of the 80's sits some plastic renditions of
Paragon’s more famous heroes. Of course none of them had been
touched in years, and his mind wasn’t on action figures, he had
just had a rough night. He knew his father had been working a case for
a while now but he had never been gone more than a few days before.
Greg walked into the kitchen to find his mother sitting at the table
sobbing to herself. He rushed over to her and asked what was wrong. The
small Japanese woman made an incredible effort to compose herself.
Although she had spent the last hours of the night sobbing, now was
when she had to be strong, for her son. “It’s your
father,” she began, “some people from the station came last
night and they said,” she closed her eyes for a moment before she
continued, “they said your father’s been dead for a week
now.” She didn’t cry now, but looked at her son, waiting to
see how he’d react, but Greg didn’t know what to do. What
possible thought could he hold in his head now that would not bombard
him with the feelings of loss, sorrow, and remorse? What could he do
that would have any sense of rationality when something like this had
happened? He didn’t want to think about anything, any thought
would bring up those feelings and he was scared that those feelings
would destroy him.
A few months later Greg found himself
back in school. Although the pain was still there for both of them, his
mother had done a much better job of moving on. Both of them had been
changed as well. His mother was now driven with the purpose of making
sure her son grew up as normally as possible, despite him not having a
father. She started dating again, but none of the relationships lasted
long and Greg was thankful for that. He, on the other hand, became
stoic and reserved. He never talked to anyone at school, girls
didn’t interest him, and all of his friends eventually drifted
away. His grades, while not really exemplary in the past, became
something he kept at a decent enough level so his mother would never
Then one day, while he was walking
through the hallways of Paragon High, he saw four seniors beating up on
a younger kid. It was easy to see why they were doing it too. The kid
had orange skin and horns sprouting out of his head. Greg was just
going to turn around when the orange kid looked up at him. Something
stirred inside him and he felt he just couldn’t turn away. He
walked up to the bullies and asked them to stop. They stopped, and even
though the orange, horned kid was free he was still too scared too run
away. One of the attackers spoke up, “Look Greg,” (they
recognized each other from the soccer team,) “I’m sorry
about your dad and all, but I didn’t think you were a mutie
Greg looked at the assaulted student
and motioned for him to take off. No one stopped him, but Greg and the
lead bully stared each other down. In that gaze, ties were broken and
lines were drawn. Although nothing was said as he walked away, the next
day “Greg Williams is a mutie lover” was spray painted on
the wall of the hallway. But Greg never found out about that, since he
didn’t show up for school the next day.
He went back home that night and saw
his mother sitting at the table with a man at least ten years younger
than her. Greg recognized him, his mother had been dating him for a
while now. His name was Kai and there were rumors that he was fairly
wealthy because of his work for a fledgling street gang called the
Tsoo. Greg had never seen his arms so he couldn’t tell if the man
had the tattoos to prove it, but he did know that Kai was never very
accepting of the fact that his girlfriend had a white son. Right now
both Kai and his mother had very happy looks on their faces.
Then Greg’s eyes widened with
horror as he saw a sparkling ring adorning his mother’s finger.
“I’ve got some wonderful news,” she said, while Greg
remained rooted to the spot, hoping against hope that she
wouldn’t say what he knew she would. “Kai and I are getting
married!” With that Greg dropped his backpack and ran out the
There was an Army recruiting station around the corner from their apartment building, he walked in and signed up.
In a warehouse in Independence Port, around midday, the superhero Gray
Wolf awoke and realized that he had spent the past night murdering
members of the Family. Although he was amazed no one had found him and
arrested him yet, he was worried about himself. He had never lost
control like that before. He didn’t trust himself right now, and
he felt his sanity might be in question. He needed to calm himself,
meditate for a time, before he went after his father’s
killer. With dried blood on his gray colored spandex, he picked
himself up off the ground and headed towards Atlas Park.
Meanwhile, news of the past night’s attacks had already worked
their way up to the desk of Emil Marcone. While his resources were
already stretched thin across Paragon City and the Rogue Isles, with
his battle against the Mooks, on Lord Recluse’s turf, taking up
most of his attention, the knowledge that a single swordsman killed
such a large number of his people in one night had to be dealt with. He
called two men up into his office and there orders were clear. Find out
who he is, find out where he is, and then kill him.
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