Welcome my friend. I’ve been told that you came here to learn more about the Elite Five. The tale of a waitress, a driver, an assassin, a hacker, and a convict who loves explosives.
I’m amazed that you requested an audience with the five of us. Not many have the strength to seek one of us out, much less all five. Over there you’ll see Twain. Never understood the full reason why she joined us. Next to her, there’s Mira, my cousin, who’s probably hacking into the FBI’s vending machines or some shit like that.
Sitting on the rafters there is my guy, Nicholas. An assassin who I think has a little too much fun in killing people. Finally, that old man over there, giving me a glare of endearment, is Steve; don’t ask about the scar. Just, don’t.
Who am I, you ask? It should be obvious. I’m the leader of this group of somebodies. My friends call me Hale. My enemies call me . . . nothing actually. Nick and Twain either threw them off a cliff, blew them up, or blew them up while they’re throwing them off a fucking cliff.
How did we meet? That’s a rather funny part. After meeting all these insane people, you’d think that it’d be because of an apocalypse or some shit like that. Nope, it was all because of a god-damned necklace.
Put on your big girl pants and strap on your seat belt. The story is a long one.
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