Ripper

The Ripper’s origins were steeped in torment. From the moment he could remember, pain was as familiar to him as his own heartbeat. His father, a violent alcoholic, would stumble home every night, his rage ignited by any perceived slight, real or imagined. His fists, chains, and belts became instruments of terror, leaving physical and emotional scars that would haunt Ripper for the rest of his life. To him, love was not something to be nurtured, but something to be feared, something that weakened you—something that would leave you vulnerable to those who held power.

As he grew older, the world became a battleground for survival. Every cruel blow from his father was absorbed, creating a rage so deep it would eventually transform him into something monstrous. The pain he endured turned into a hunger—a need for revenge that festered in his chest like a slow-burning fire. The knife he wielded became an extension of that pain. Each slash, each victim, was not just an act of violence, but a way to exorcise the demon of vengeance that had taken root within him. Money fueled his drive, offering both freedom and the means to continue his brutal work. Yet, after each kill, the emptiness grew. No matter how much blood was spilled, the catharsis he craved never came. The Ripper was trapped in an endless cycle of violence, desperately trying to fill a void that would never be satiated.

Snake

Snake’s rage was born from neglect—a child ignored and abandoned emotionally by the very people who should have cared for him. His mother, cold and detached, offered him no warmth, no affection. His father, obsessed with his own life, rarely acknowledged Snake’s existence. From a young age, Snake understood that love was an illusion—something reserved for others, not for him. The emptiness this neglect created became a void that Snake would try to fill with power and dominance. To survive, he had to prove himself worthy—worthy of recognition, of attention, of love.

But his pride—his desperate need to prove his value—became his prison. Snake’s anger, rooted in the belief that the world owed him something, manifested in violent acts of vengeance against those who dared to cross him. He wasn’t just killing for the sake of revenge; he was asserting his dominance, staking a claim to his worth. His anger and pride became intertwined, creating a volatile combination. Yet with each kill, Snake’s rage only deepened. His need for validation was never fulfilled, and the emptiness that plagued him only grew larger.

Boiler

Boiler’s existence was defined by abuse—both verbal and physical. His father, a cruel and demanding tyrant, saw him as nothing more than a tool to be sharpened, constantly berating him for his perceived weaknesses. The words his father spoke were weapons, tearing away at his self-esteem with every harsh remark. When the physical punishments came, they were no less brutal, reinforcing the belief that his worth was defined by what he could endure.

But Boiler was not one to cower. He built his body into a fortress, a wall of muscle meant to protect him and assert his strength. His power became his weapon, and he used it to crush anyone who dared to challenge him. Greed drove him—a desire for wealth, power, and dominance. Wrath simmered under the surface, constantly threatening to boil over. He wanted to be feared, to be respected, to ensure that no one would ever belittle him again. But the violence he used to assert control was also his undoing. No matter how many lives he destroyed, Boiler could never silence the voice in his head telling him he wasn’t enough. His need for dominance only deepened his self-loathing, pushing him down a path of self-destruction.

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Terror Bird

Terror Bird was born from unimaginable trauma. Abused sexually at a young age by someone she trusted, her world was shattered before she could even understand what had been taken from her. The scars left by that abuse went beyond the physical—they were imprinted on her soul, warping her understanding of love, trust, and safety. She learned early that the world was not a place of comfort, but one of cruelty and betrayal.

Her rage, which started as a child’s terror, evolved into something far darker. She used her pain as a weapon, driving people away before they could get close enough to hurt her again. She became a predator, taking control of her pain by inflicting it on others. The years of physical abuse she endured in her teenage years only solidified her belief that the world was nothing but a vicious place. Wrath became her driving force, propelling her through life like an unstoppable storm. Every action, every decision, was an expression of the anger that had taken root in her heart. Her victims were nothing more than extensions of her own suffering—tools to release her fury. Yet, no matter how many lives she destroyed, the trauma never left. It only grew stronger, feeding the fire of her rage.

The Meeting of the Devils

The four of them came together in a moment of chaos. Rival gangs clashed in a bloody confrontation, and each of them found themselves standing amidst the carnage. Their paths, though divergent, had brought them here—brought them to this moment where they were forced to confront their shared reality.

Ripper was the first to break the silence, his voice raw and seasoned with violence. “You did well,” he said to Snake, a grudging respect in his tone. He had just slaughtered a man with a quick slash, his hands slick with blood, and there was an unspoken acknowledgment between them.

Snake, always calculating, gave a brief nod. “You’re not as sloppy as I thought.” His words, like everything about him, were laced with pride—an edge that came from his constant need to prove himself.

Boiler, ever the opportunist, wiped his face free of blood and grinned, the look on his face one of dark satisfaction. “Looks like we’re all in this together, whether we like it or not.”

Terror Bird surveyed them with cold eyes, her gaze sharp and unwavering. She hadn’t spoken much, preferring to observe. But now, there was something different in her eyes—a flicker of recognition. “I don’t trust anyone,” she muttered, her voice low, but there was an understanding beneath her words. “But I get the feeling you all feel the same way.”

For a moment, they stood in silence, the blood of their enemies still fresh on their hands. But despite the distrust that lingered between them, there was an unspoken bond—a bond forged in their shared pain. Each of them had suffered in ways that the world would never understand. They were not just killers. They were survivors.

“Guess we’re not so different,” Ripper said quietly, almost to himself. There was a change in his voice—a softening, a realization that despite their differences, they were all connected by something deeper.

From that moment, they formed an alliance—unspoken, fragile, but real. The four of them were bound by their demons, their rage, and their shared need for survival. Together, they would face the world that had cast them aside, not as individuals, but as a force—something unstoppable, forged in pain, blood, and fire. They were the broken pieces of a shattered world, and for the first time, they had found something resembling camaraderie in one another.