1 Prologue

Rain, falling hard on the tin roof of the old warehouse that he currently called home. A small fire burns in the center of this large, long forgotten structure. In a dimly lit corner of the room, he sits quietly, trying to stitch his wounds. "Damn, I really did it this time" he grunts as he pushes the needle through the edge of the large hash across his left forearm. Each puncture of his flesh humbled this young, arrogant man, as the pain reminded him that he is only human now, and he can be killed. A fact that's only 3 hours ago, he disregarded, putting himself directly into the path of a fate, and a chain of events that he had spent so long trying to avoid.

After stitching and bandaging his arm, he stands and shuffles over to a small, dusty window. Looking out into the dark and somber night sky, he thought about a great many things, of how he could be so stupid as to reveal himself, of how he couldn't stay here anymore, and of how- Just then his thoughts were interrupted by a low, whirring sound, followed by a blinding light rushing through the window.

"Oh shit! How did they find me already?" He ducked away from the window, moving fast and low he makes his way to a small black duffel bag positioned next to the fire. As he started to gather his supplies a loud voice bursts forth, overtaking the sound of the military grade attack chopper hovering above the building.

"This is the SSDF, we have you surrounded. Comply with all instructions or we will exercise lethal force" the voice goes silent for a moment, and is replaced by a colder, less official tone comes over the speaker. "Delta, it's V. Come on out here." At the sound of this familiar voice, Delta's deep, ocean blue eyes glowed a bright crimson. The color resembled a small pool of freshly drawn blood under a brilliant light. In that moment, his sanity abandoned him completely, sending him into a blinding rage.

He is well aware that he had precisely 0.002% chance to survive, if he tried to take on the full force of the SSDF asset recovery squad. Let alone the source of that wretched voice. That voice, the one that belonged to a man that Delta once called "brother ". That voice, that now belongs to a man that Delta holds most responsible for the last 25 years of misery, of weakness and shame. 25 long years of tragedy and loss that he felt so powerless to stop.

In that moment he decided, he was going back. To the place he lost everything. To the home that he was betrayed by, and to the brother, of who he was certain of only two immutable, unwavering, steadfast fact.

HE MUST PAY!