Prologue
What if
One particular nonspecific day
Black and White fell in love
And together became grey?
-Yours truly
They say heroes aren't born, they're made. If that were true, Ivan had yet to meet a real hero.
They were all the same, no matter where he came, no matter who he encountered. Loud and over-confident, whores for fame and praise, always getting in his way. These self-proclaimed fighters of evil were no better than the wrongdoers they chased.
Ivan didn't hate them. Pitied them, perhaps, looked down on them with a mocking superiority. Because unlike them, he didn't let his vision be clouded by the thought that he was doing good. He knew he wasn't, didn't even try to pretend. He didn't cower behind a veil of 'justice' when he punished a criminal. There was blood on his hands, and he had no one but himself to blame. Still he continued his task, because those heroes couldn't be trusted with it. It was something he himself needed to do, something he didn't need any help for.
Town after town chased him out, leaving him unable to find satisfaction. They never caught him, never were smart enough to drive him out of hiding and bring him to jail. He was too slick and slippery, had too many connections helping him hide in the shadows after crossing yet another name of his unending list.
He went by many names himself; from Winter to the Icy Death to the Devil himself. Silly, pitiable heroes, seeing him as just another evil mastermind to conquer.
That is what finally brought him to that one, specific city. The place that would change his life of crime for good.
The place where he met someone who could be convinced, and in turn, satisfy his hunger.
There where bad became good, where wrong became right, where the lines of morality were forever blurred.
