Thread: Beyond Laws, Above Rules. Res for Autumn Queen. MxM 18+

Duck. Duck. Dive. Block. Slam your fist into his face and run like crazy. Not an unusual sequence of events for him really he did immerse himself in trouble on a daily basis and every now and again it would sneak up on him when he wasnt expecting it. Avoiding lackeys was something he spent the better part of his days doing sometimes, and to him it was just a game. Running down the street, weaving between pedestrians before skidding around a corner and almost diving into the nearest pub. Pubs were great for ducking into, as long as you knew who owned it and who they were loyal to, of course. He perched himself at the bar and let out a sigh, stretching while he surreptitiously glanced out the window, just in time to see five people running down the street after him, running straight past his current hiding place. Midnight black tresses, freshly washed and still a bit damp hung in front of his face slightly. He looked almost delicate it seemed, he looked attractive, like a popular college student, certainly the sort to have flocks of people after him. Unfortunately, it appeared that flocks of the wrong kind of people were after him. Coming to an average height, if a little smaller if it werent for his boots, at around five foot nine inches, but he was a good build for his height and size. There were strong muscles behind his deceptively thin frame, toned so that he looked more like an average guy, not the killer that he was. His situation was rather complicated. His mother had been in Internal Affairs, his father in the CIA, he was a direct violation of protocol, but that hardly mattered now. His mother died when he was a mere four years old, shot in the head while they were boarding a helicopter to flee. They had known someone was after them until that point but never had a direct kill been made, always subtle accidents as each of his extensive family were killed. His father died when he was 14, murdered just like his mother. Supposedly some old enemies had gotten to him, but he didnt trust information he didnt get himself or from his own trusted sources, not any more. He was the only one left in his family now and at twenty one years old, he already had more field experience than some veterans. Because of the danger his family was in, he had been forced to skip childhood entirely and move straight on to adulthood, not that such a thing was unexpected in his family they were all trained from a young age, prepared for the family legacy. Hed never expected to be the last though, but even he couldnt escape it. Honestly, he wasnt sure he wanted to. He enjoyed his life, despite its deficiencies, but he still wanted to know the truth. After his mother died, his father had trained him vigorously. He could fight, he could slip in unnoticed like he wasnt even there hed been trained to be a ghost. Everything he could be prepared for, he knew. How to drive, not just cars, but boats, helicopters, jets, anything he might ever need. That had been normal for him as a child. Get up in the morning and instead of going to school he was being taught how to speak Arabic and how to disarm a bomb. Or make one, some days. That had just been his life, learning and self improving until his father started sending him out on survival missions, dropping him out in the middle of nowhere and giving him a mission and a return date. One day he finished his mission, looked to the news bulletin as he was passing an old second hand electronics store and saw that his father was dead. Hed gone undercover, for years, just hiding, cleaning up the streets his father called it when he first sent him out. Get rid of the scum, because nobody else will do it right. His first kill mission was to hang around outside a well known pub owned by a very unpleasant man, who dealt with drug trafficking and prostitution. Wait till he had a target someone really unpleasant, someone who would only do more harm while alive. Make sure you get the right guy you dont want to find out you screwed up later, and kill them. He found a dealer who was abusing a prostitute and killed him. Hed been 13. But this was his life, and it was all about to change. It was a risk for him, a huge risk. Years of living in the streets, of stealing and killing, avoiding cops and criminals alike, and now he was finally putting himself in their reach. Not many people even knew he was alive, supposedly hed died when his mother was shot and didnt exist, but a few knew he did. But just because he didnt trust the government didnt mean he wouldnt help out from time to time, and sometimes they would drop him missions, retrieval or kill missions and hed pass the body, or living person if that was what they wanted, over to them. Sometimes they would try and catch him too, bring him in whenever they thought they had a shot so he always kept his distance, worked from out of their reach. They didnt realise the risk they were to him if they caught him, he would die, just like the rest of his family. Few knew the conspiracy against his family, but even fewer knew about the conspiracy his family had committed. Name changes, off the records, his family had infiltrated every law enforcement agency in the last 3 generations. They started with the military, branched out to the FBI, the CIA, anywhere they didnt have anyone, they would marry someone in a different agency and the web of information and power would continue to grow. But clearly someone had found out, and one by one there were accidents. His grandfather, a military general, died in the line of duty. His second aunt, car crash, his uncle, died in hospital. All innocuous things but their family numbers whittled down and down in supposedly natural ways until there were but a handful left. And it left him here, on the streets, killing and slumming it, trying to make the best of a shitty situation. He couldnt remember the last time hed slept in a real bed he was too paranoid to stay at hotels. He had to make the best of it though, to try and enjoy this life somehow. Once, the police had tried to do something for him, tried to help him. They'd assigned a newbie, someone who didn't know the rumors surrounding him, to befriend him, help him out. Claiming Greiver was an informant who needed protective custody, he'd stayed with the officer for nearly two weeks in his apartment. Two weeks of warmth, comfort, and an unlimited supply of hot chocolate, it was the only holiday he'd ever had and the best time of his life, despite the lies. The secret could only be kept for so long though and eventually he'd left one night, disappeared before the other man found out the truth of who he was and what he'd done. His pager bleeped at him and he left the bar smoothly, fitting in to the crowds with ease. He didn't use cellphones too easy to trace, though he had disposables stashed around town he only had his pager that he tended to keep on him, since they were outdated and far less targeted for tracking or monitoring. It was enough to let him know the cops had him on call though another gruesome murder by the local serial killer. He'd had three victims so far, and while they were understanding of the motives actually catching the guy was proving difficult. It didn't take him long to get to the scene the warehouse district on the outside of the city, and he was inside the crime scene tape for five minutes before anyone noticed him. It was the same as the last ones perfectly posed, the body a work of art if that was what you were into naked and covered in cuts, it must have taken hours of work. Keeping an eye on the police that were pointedly ignoring him so far, Greiver took a look around. Being surrounded by cops made him nervous but he was more than good enough to hide that, more than used to putting himself in stupid situations like this hiding his fear and coming off as cocky was one of his many skills.