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Happy Birthday to Me

The man leaning against the brick wall took a drag on a cigarette and blew out, the smoke mingling with his cloud of breath under the dingy light of a street lamp, across the street from an abandoned steel manufacturer. The light weakly reflected off the face of his watch as he turned it to face him: 10:23pm. The customer was late. He stood for another few minutes, alternating between inhaling nicotine and listening to sirens in the distance before hearing a car turning onto the street. A last glance confirmed he was exactly six minutes past his appointment, but he wasn't usually the punctual type. He stamped out his cigarette as the car pulled up to the curb, rolling down it's tinted windows as he approached. A nasal voice, accompanied by a strong smell of cigar, shrilled, "D my man, I knew you'd come through! Din' I tell you he'd come through for us Eddy? Aw shit man, well I knew you would. You got it?" He held up the brown bag in response, and a heavily tattooed, bony hand reached out to snatch it, disappearing quickly into the car while they examined the merchandise. "Oo hoo hoo! Damn son, you really will do anything, wontcha? " he cackled, the weak street light barely illuminating a very large and elaborate solid gold ring, encrusted with rubies surrounding a massive diamond in the center, still attached to it's original owner's finger. "Big G's ring, my man! This'll show those damn street rats of followers who the real king is. Ayo man, nice work, you's definitely worth the payment." he finished, leaning out the window and giving him a crooked grin with the few teeth he had left. His other hand extended a wad of cash containing a grand total of "three g's fo' sho!", which D accepted and briefly counted before pocketing it. He nodded and stepped away as the car sprayed slush getting out of here, the screech of rubber on tarmac matched with a screech of excitement from another satisfied customer. The tail lights receded in the distance as he walked the other way, his feet crunching on the omnipresent road salt as he jammed his hands deeper in his pockets.

D didn't always initiate dirty street deals, or was intimately familiar with most of the underground top dogs as a hired mercenary. There used to be somewhat of a family in the picture, and life wasn't too awful.  But fate is a cruel master and loves to take away what it gives for its own cruel entertainment.  And it just kept taking, and taking, and then there wasn't much left to take, but that was taken too, and what was left was not as it had been.  The last shreds of decency were either destroyed or desperately locked away by his soul, attempting to preserve the last of its humanity in a place he could not reach.  This was fine. After all, it's much easier to take a guy's finger when you really just don't have care about it. That's not to say he doesn't feel anything; anger is a constant, suppressed companion that refuses to leave and often comes out in undesirable forms, and who can forget the wonderful irrational sadness that is born from loneliness? D breathed out another cloud of warm breath before he turned left onto his street, climbed the stairs, and opened the door into his apartment, momentarily pausing to assess before kicking it shut with his foot and turning the deadbolt. The bed creaked wearily as he sat down, muscles flexing as he put his head in his hands and massaged his eyes. Unpleasant memories were resurfacing that he'd really rather keep in the stagnant waters of obliviousness. The neighbors were thumping around like usual, starting another one of their night time arguments, and another set of sirens had started up, closer this time. Sighing, he dug around in his pocket before pulling out a worn silver lighter, spinning the wheel a few times before the flame caught. The wavering fire reflected in his eyes as he stared into it's depths before whispering sarcastically, "Happy birthday to me. Couldn't ask for a better one." The flame flickered once in response before going out, leaving him alone in his dark apartment.

He is D, a a man who's age is unknown but guessed around his twenties, renowned on the streets for being willing to take any job for any price, and showing astounding talent and astuteness in completion of the jobs. The rumors that fly by tongue mark him as a dangerous person to mess with, a notoriously terrifying man who is not known to show compassion in any situation, someone more than human, or less. He works alone, and the exact details of who he actually is are not known for sure- the only credible piece of information is that he first made his name after a brutal beatdown of a well known brawler three times his size. He was fairly young at the time, and it didn't take long to establish himself. It also didn't take long to make it known that he would coldly refuse any offer to join any of the fine establishments in the underground, regardless of status or notoriety or bribes of any amount. As to why he insists on distancing himself, it's anyone's guess. But it's common knowledge that you don't cross him and live.