Towards Redemption [HIATUS]

0.|Prologue|

Have you ever loved someone enough to live only for them? To die only for their sake? Have you ever considered that sometimes, in occasional and rare stories that the villain might get the girl? Where the villain the good guy? The hero?

The story I'm going to tell you is something of sort, about a man who lost himself a long time ago and brings nothing but death in his wake and a woman who is battling death to live another day.

A story about two unlikely souls, a Polaroid, a bucket list and a journey to redemption, redemption that was thought impossible.

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He was born in sin, into a family drowning in it. An abomination born of incest between a brother and his half-sister, he is named the last heir to the family as his father dies. His fate, he thought was to continue his family's legacy surrounded by sins.

His own mother, the result of his grandfather's affair with another married woman, while married himself died of drug over dose on his eighteenth birthday. It was his ticket to freedom. Away from her abusive and child molesting husband. Away from the small puny apartment that reeked of drugs, decay, cigarettes and occasionally, sex.

His ticket to freedom was something he had jumped at the moment it showed itself, he took it and soared.

Those wings were what made Vincenzo Morettila take in the eighteen year old anger driven teenager under his wing almost nine months later. There, Grimm Ripper was polished and mold into the perfect killer he is today. Vince's best man on the job, Grimm is precise, swift and right on the mark-always.

It was what made people tremble at the mere mention of his name. Once you get on Vince's bad side, you should lock your doors, keep a gun close and sleep with one eye open because you can be damn sure that Ripper was going to be the one on your case a few hours later.

And once he's done with you, he'll hunt down your family and everyone you care about until they too join you in whatever the shit you go after you're soul leaves your body.

Grimm feels no remorse, no regret, he doesn't care, he doesn't want to, after 8 years of living in death and violence, he's learnt how to block it out, feel nothing. He does, however harbor a sentiment towards his victims, the various ink on his back and arms prove it, a tattoo for every man, woman and child he's killed.

It was a reminder, to the world and to himself, of what he is, and what he will always be-a monster. A killer without remorse, the worst kind of bastard there is.

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Over the eight years of his service with Vince, the topic of his sexuality had come up more than once through the various conversations the members have at their underground retreat, a sex bar co-owned by Vince himself.

With whóres hanging off their laps, naked and fúcking them to oblivion, the men would slip at their brandy, whispering on how the infamous Grimm Ripper had so far never laid so much as a hand on any of the whóres in the whórehouse.

"Maybe the bloke's gay," One man whispers, his hand pinching the bouncing breasts of his partner before shoving her down on her knees, the sight of his hard cóck was enough for her to get the drill and get straight to sucking him off.

"I heard that too ya know!" One of the men who he was sitting with grins drunkenly, "I heard he's gaaayy ttooooo," The word are slurred, "And he'ss slepttt with oooooonnnlllyyy the bosssss mann so far. Cuz' he's the booosss'ss little fúcking whóre!" He laughs.

"Yeah, if that's indeed true, then it's no wonder that the boss man treats Ripper differently. They are lovers! That explains it!" The third man pulls the whóre who was sucking his friend's cóck off him and pulls down his zip, pushing her against the table, he shoves himself in her ass.