Los Angeles, California
Mark sat in the darkness of a hotel room, completely deprived of any sound or visual that would distract him from his one goal. Death's Reaper had been informed of a Lycan whose subsequent release had been spurred by the madness of the Ruin Kingdom. Although he hadn't partaken, the Legacy knew all too well the craftiness of the Cajun and the chaos he created whilst 'imprisoned.' In the wake of the whole fiasco, the Utopian Registration Act, and an expected war, the aftermath of the ordeal was coming to light. The Ruin Kingdom would be the start of a change. That's also why the Shadow was employed to go after this William. The man could start a sea of change on his own and change more with his team. Certain individuals didn't want to see the Lycan reunited with his old group.
Mark knew he would not have a chance of defeating him while he was in range of his allies. But alone, isolated from the world, and still rusty?--This was his chance.
The Reaper had stationed himself in Los Angeles, a major city where William would probably travel through on his way to meeting his team. Mark knew in a old prison that his Lycan target wouldn't be able to access sufficient weapons and would need some after his escape. So, in a ingenious plan, one of his associates was posing as a arms dealer who could trade with William for better weapons in exchange for whatever he could offer. Then, before the deal was done, he could catch his opponent off-guard and handle him.
He sat still, until a vibration on the table in front of him causes him to flicker his eyes open.
My phone, he thought, grabbing it. "Hello?"
"I've planned a meeting in the warehouse district in thirty minutes. Be here."
"Alright," he replied, ending the conversation. The Clone laid his phone on the table, grabbing his tools of war and preparing himself for a difficult battle. Mark had never met William, but he knew of the raw power that Lycans had. From what he had heard, this Lycan would be much tougher. The Legacy was in for a fight.
The Shadow peered through a roof window-pane down at the two men below. One of them was the very familiar associate who he had tasked with luring the Hunter into the trap. Mark amusingly grinned to himself. It was ironic that the Hunter was now the hunted--just after his liberation from prison. The Assassin looked towards the other man, who he identified quickly. Mark was impressed by William's imposing body structure. He seemed to be all muscle, without a hint of fat on him. Mark could tell he was tall just from his width, and he suspected that the Hunter was the average size of a small forward in the NBA. "Wow," he said, watching the mannerisms of his target. He waited a while, watching the two discuss their business before he slowly began unzipping a black duffel bag next to him. Death's Reaper produced a quiver of arrows and a bow which he knew would be essential to keeping out of reach of the more imposing man. If things came to close quarters--which Mark hoped they wouldn't--he always had his two scimitars, daggers, and knives.
Mark grabbed an arrow from his quiver and notched it into his bow. Instead of aiming at the Hunter, the Clone aimed at his associate. The man wasn't a good friend in the first place, and Mark felt no remorse in ending the loose string attached to his mission. "It's now..." he pondered. "Or later."
"Now," he finally said, releasing the arrow. It passed through the window pane, shattering the glass, and barreled toward the associate. Before it collided with him however, it burst, releasing chemicals over his body. Mark watched as the man writhed in pain, his skin slowly melting away into a gooey substance. The whole thing was a distraction, which Mark hoped would get the Hunter a little off-guard for him to swoop down and initiate the fight. Without waiting another moment, Mark plummeted through the broken window-pane and toward the ground. Before, he had tied a rope to a metal overhanging, and it now stopped him just a few feet from the ground. Without hesitation he sliced the rope and looked at the Hunter, pulling an arrow, this time a regular one, and shooting it at him.
"Sorry, William. You're being terminated."