If any one of you guys noticed the challenge in the Strike Fiss section, you guys probly don't know much about where Cerebus came from. He is actually from a manga that me nad my friends are making, which will release on the 1st of Sept in my modblog!

On behalf of making the manga, we would also like to present our story ahead of time so you will get the jist of it, and to ADVERTISE!!!jk BEFORE YOU READ THIS: Know that some of the following may offend younger readers, so viewer discretion is advised.

Underground, written in first person format.
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All I could remember was darkness. There was no such thing as light where I had been for the last 3 years, only impending darkness. Pitch black was the old term, but nowadays, we just call it Black.
The cell door opened.
I remember that a guard was standing in front of me as I awoke from my comatose sleep, yelling at me, telling me this was my lucky day. A gleam of white came from behind him. My eyes burned.
All the while as the guards took me to the cleansing room, I kept my head down. My eyes could not dilate fast enough, and the light hurt continually. I quickly put on the clothes they had confiscated from me during the day of my arrest. It irked me that a guard was eyeing me closely while I was changing.
They pointed me out towards the gates, where civilization was. Although it was 6 PM, my eyes were still burning. It was as if the light was trying to burn my sins off me, punishing me for those I've killed. It wanted to hold me in its arms. I put on my shades; I had always felt more at ease with the dark.
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The streets of Civitas have changed. The desolate buildings I once knew were now filled with neon signs, lights, billboards, and pictures of voluptuous women. It made me forget about the past. That's what 3 years of solitary confinement does to you.
Diversity fills the streets. Conmen, psychos, hookers, perverts, rapists, thieves, all walking in the guise of regular beings. The sign was flashing as I walked to crossroad towards 87th street, and I noticed a young whelp around the age of 22, probably 23. The whelp bumped me, but he minded his 'p's and 'q's, and said "Excuse Me". I put a bullet in his head and it popped.
Blood, tissue and spit was on the floor, and I picked up my wallet. No one even cared. In the city of Civitas, most cops are lazy, bribe-taking sons of bitches who panhandle from strippers and pornstars. There was no fear from them; they didn't represent the government, they only made a mockery of it. Here, it's everyone for themselves.
Turning around the corner, I noticed that the borken down sign of "Karma Apt." has been transformed into a ranibow of electrical shades, hues, and lettering. The doors swept open for me, like I was some sort of God. As always, A.J., the manager, was looking at brunette porn, except now it was from an LCD screen.
I pulled the ignorant young adult by the cuff by reaching into the money slot, and slammed his head on the little bullet-proof glass that was his only protection from my guns.
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I'll continue later...

"Aww...What the FUCK!!...Van!!!" The little tyke had the eyes of a coward. There was fear in his eye, the fear of dying, and he knew that even if I couldn't shoot him, I could still rip him apart.

"A.J., nice to see you again."
"H-h-how's it goin' man?"
"Perfectly fine. I just got outta jail y'know."
"Hah...so I've noticed, man. Urgh!"
I lifted him just a little higher.
"Hey! No need to break your friend's neck right?"
"That depends, does my 'friend' still have my place in good shape?"
"Yeah, sure! Never touched it, not once man!"
"Good."

A.J. was on the floor, struggling to get back up, muttering inconceivable words of hate to himself, cursing at me, wishing he wasn't such a weakling.

"Oh A.J.,"
bang.
It seemed the glass wasn't really bulletproof. The bullet trailed through the makeshift barrier and lodged itself deep...into the monitor.
It also seemed that A.J. had a stain in his pants, and that stain was continually growing.
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Room 845.
I slid the keycard into the slot, and looked up at the miniscule eye-scanner. It flashed once, and the doors opened.
My apartment. Some could say this was my double-life.
Before my time in prison I was a hired-assassin. One of the best in Civitas you might say. Political figures, authorities, hapless victims who knew too much for their own good, ganglords and such. I left no trace of evidence after my job was finished, and for a time, that was good. I made a profession killing people, my identity hidden under the alias Konig. And during my earlier years, I met Ceryll, and the fool that I was, I married her. Women are so conniving. From that day on, the name Vandalis Sprecha was known to mob-bosses and drug-dealers and other assassins. From that day on I was a target, but that didn't stop me from doing my job. Until the one day I met representatives from the Neo-Mob. They offered their price for a few selective heads, and I was supposed to accept. But somehow, deep in my soul, a sliver of conscience popped out. The last of my conscience. I refused. I felt ambivalent the entire night. I was happy to know that I for once was doing something right, and at the same time sad of the repercussions.
I knew my wife and child were to die, from the moment I opened those lips. I was too naive to say yes, too naive to weigh my family's life with a few slabs of meat.
I felt hatred within me. Now is the present; now I wanted my revenge.
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