Deathbringer

"What's your real name anyway?"

Triple A looked up from the book he was reading and glanced at Crystal. If it were anyone else he would have scowled, told them a polite "fuck you" got up and walked away as was his usual reaction to being interrupted whenever he was doing something.

However, Crystal and Boris were exceptions to this treatment on the account that Boris was his commander and was fully capable of killing him in his sleep with a paperclip and that he thought that Crystal was too pure to receive such treatment.

"What do you mean my real name?" He asked obliviously.

"I mean the name your parents actually gave you..." Crystal pouted, a tad annoyed by how dense Triple could sometimes be. "...your birth name can't actually be Triple A can it?"

"What makes you think that? Anything can be a name. Boris' last name is Deadhead, your cousin's full first name is Noahstotle and the organizers of Brawlhalla's names are Sleeper, Hangman and Freezy; and one of our Branch Heads is called Killer. I don't think the name 'Triple A' is strange at all..." He shrugged and went back to reading, confident he had put his point across.

Crystal opened her mouth but found that she had nothing to say. Triple was right. But she wasn't going to back down from this so easily.

"Yeah but those were the names they were actually given. By their actual parents. Well except Killer but even he doesn't know his real name. I'm pretty sure you were named something apart from what we all call you..." Crystal smirked and leaned close to his face while also closing the book on his laps.

Triple closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He wasn't bothered at all by the suggestive pose they were in, already used to Crystal putting him and others in situations and positions like this; it was the possibility of being caught by someone immature like Noah or Killer or someone temperamental like Casey that gave him cause to worry.

He sighed and held her face in-between his hands.

"Why are you insistent about this?It's just a name"

"Do you not trust us enough to tell us your real name...?"

Triple's eyes widened a bit; he was caught off guard. Something Crystal noted she had never seen or heard before.

"....maybe I just don't trust you...."

*******************************

Reaper took another sip of his now cold cup of coffee. In reality it was about 20 percent actual coffee and 80 percent of cream. Who cares anyway? Even serial killers need a bit of sweetness in their life.

He had been watching the Deadhead house for a while and he hadn't seen a single sign of the titular gang commander. His trigger finger was starting to grow weary.

Reaper gripped his sniper rifle tightly. It was a Savage Axis, an inexpensive but reliable hunting rifle that had helped him with a lot of his earlier kills. He had it a long time before he actually started murdering people though. It was one of the few things his brother owned that he could actually keep and maintain. It travelled practically everywhere with him. It was like family to him.

Reaper noticed some movement in front of Boris' house and quickly looked into the scope of his gun. Sure enough the gangster was there, with a girl he had never seen and his deputy.

He grit his teeth.

He had waited so long for his revenge and now it was finally in his reach.

Reaper waited for the Last Resort to leave first. He had a different form of vengeance in mind for that one. He also didn't want to risk the chance of the Taitanzu deputy catching him while he made his escape. Luckily he took the random girl with him.

Boris went into the house and after a few minutes reappeared in his room, which was directly facing Reaper's view.

Perfect.

Reaper reloaded Deathbringer (Yes. He named the gun) and brought his eye to the scope.

Boris was staring right at him.

Reaper almost did a double take but quickly regained his composure.

He didn't have to be scared though. His spot on the flat roof was bound to be covered in shadow by this time of day, since he was on a roof that fortunately belonged to those weird people that had gardens on the roof. There was plentiful cover for him to make his shot.

Reaper steadied himself and watched the white haired teen ruffle through his drawer.

The time had come.

He took the shot.