Really, this whole captive deal isn't as shitty as little Jacob made it out to be. Poor nut.
Mister kung-fu guy, Tranquil, I think his name is, has more or less released me. But he managed to persuade me into clocking a few more hours in this dirty house of sins, on account of a nifty piece of action he's handed me on a platter. Lookin' forward to it.
Little Jacob's mind was fried by that little shock he experienced from the White Knight's attack, and I guess that's how I was born. Or rather, that's how I was awoken. See, I've always been here. Been caught in a bit of a slumber, thanks to that unfortunate accident little Jacob had all those months ago.
Fckin' aviation.
I was locked away. Can you believe he thought he could forget me? Forget who ran the show around here? Heh. You can only pretend for so long before the curtains roll in and the audience leaves. Putting on a suit of armour and punching a few super villains wouldn't redeem us. It was a pill, metaphorically speaking. Little Jacob would feel me stirring, all my emotions and the truths that I stored, and he'd go out looking for some Tyrannosaurus man to fire nukes at. It'd null the pain and knock me down for a while, but I was inevitable.
And here I am. Back in the driver's seat, my fckin' hand on the throttle, propelling this weapon down the highway at breakneck speeds. I am Assault. I'll do little Jacob's job, and I'll do it ten times better. Thought you could hold back kiddo? Thought you could hold me back? Nah. Ditched the armour, ditched the little artificial voice in the back of my fckin' head, ditched the goody-goody two shoes. Doing this my way.
And just to make sure people don't recognize me for that pathetic chump, I've dyed my hair crimson. After all, it does sort'a go with my eyes.
Sleep tight, little Jacob.
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