Here we are, Chapter Seven. Sorry it took so long, the document uploader was acting up on my computer. Anyway, here's a little more on Mason's back story if you like his character, which I'm hoping a few of you do. My plans would be ruined if you didn't like Mason after all. Anyway, enjoy.
Mason walked down the city streets with his bag slung over his shoulder and onto his back, no one notice that a sniper rifle lay inside. He walked back and thought back on the events that had just transpired and the effects they would bring. Mason never did anything without thinking it through thoroughly and planning it to every last move. So far he could see no out come that could harm him: Ramon would blame one of his own men and not his trusted arms dealer, and the public was none the wiser; except for John but he doubted anyone would believe his story.

He laughed in his throat at the thought, he could almost see the news headlines: 'Arms Dealer Saves Children' or 'Mason Thorn: Sinner or Saint?' He knew such things were ridiculous and no one would ever consider Mason as anything remotely close to heroic and Mason didn't want to be seen as a hero. He wasn't, he was the farthest thing from a hero, he was a vengefull monster. But he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like if people did see him as a hero… A curious scenario, indeed.

Mason the hero, Mason the do-gooder. He could almost picture screaming crowds of fans shouting his name and holding up signs that would read: 'I'm your #1fan!' He could imagine holidays in his honor, shaking hands with important people, being loved by the masses. It was an intoxicating dream, but a dream sadly none the less. He knew it wasn't real and that it never could be real so it was best that he stopped thinking about it all together.

But why did he save those children? What drove him to do something righteous in his otherwise sinister lifestyle? It wasn't the first time either, he had had his moments before. Moments of righteousness, moments that were almost heroic. They were few and far between but they weren't non-existent. He thought back into his past, dipping deep into time's chaotic waters once more, as he thought back on his past endeavors. He assumed that the first righteous thing in his life was what he did to Walter. It was gruesome and purely fueled on vengeance, but he deserved it and in Mason's book that is righteous.

He thought back and remembered his mother, Mary… Mary…


It had been a year since young and innocent Vincent was committed to the earth, dispatched by his own father's hand. One year, Walter only got to live a year longer thanks to the wife he constantly mistreated. The only reason Mason held back his plots for vengeance because he knew his mother would disapproved, he knew that she would be disappointed because she forbade acts of vengeance. So he let Walter live a little bit longer, just one year longer.

He remembered his last night with his mother. Mason sat on his comfy bed in his large silent room, he was alone with his thoughts until his mother entered the room. She was wearing a bath robe, she was about to take a bath, and said in her musical sing song voice, "Sweetie? What's wrong?"

Thirteen year-old Mason gritted his teeth, he hesitated to say what was eating him up inside. His mother sat down next to him and gently ran her fingers through his hair in a soothing manner and asked him again what was troubling his young mind. Mason hesitated and then finally whispered to her, "I… I want to hurt Walter… Kill him, for what he did… What he did to Vincent."

"You can't." was all she said.

"Why not?" Mason snapped, "Vincent didn't deserve to die, he didn't deserve to feel any pain or fear. Walter does, he murdered my little brother!"

"You can't," His mother repeated, "because if you do Mason, you will have sacrificed everything that makes you human; everything that makes you who you are. Vengeance won't bring your brother back…"

"No," Mason agreed, "But after everything he's done, and if it makes me feel better…"

"Stop it Mason!" She ordered, "Perhaps, when you are older, you will understand what I say when I tell you that vengeance will not make things right. Yes it may remove evil from the world you have built around yourself Mason, but it'll poison you. It'll turn you into the very thing you sought out to destroy. Vengeance will not make your life easier Mason, it will make you into a monster."

Mason slowly nodded his head, defeated. She kissed him on the forehead and bade him good night, then left for the bathroom to take her bath. It was the last time Mason ever saw her. While Mason slept, his mother drowned to death in the bathtub. An autopsy would say it was accidental, that she fell asleep while in the tub; of course they were being paid to ignore the sleep inducing drugs in her system. As Mason watched her too be delivered into her grave, he decided that he didn't care anymore. The one person who was keeping Walter Thorn alive was now dead. Walter was fair game.

Mason's plan unfolded quite quickly and easily. Apparently Walter had developed quite a bit of a gambling habit and owed a lot of money to the local mob that he kept forgetting to pay. Mason approached the gangsters with a simple offer, they abduct Walter for him, Mason removes Walter, the gangsters take the heat for the murder, then Mason pays them with insurance and inheritance money. Simple plan, and effective.

And so Mason stood in a dark empty warehouse with two gangsters standing next to the door to make sure that Mason didn't go soft at the last minute, and in the center of the room, tied securely to a heavy chair, was Walter Thorn. He was a thin and lanky man with a bald spot growing in his black tuft of thinning hair. He slowly woke up from the sleep the gangsters had put him under and looked around with a mixture of fear and confusion.

"My mother once said that the Earth is a canvas," Mason said, "it is a place for us to make our own world where we are the ones who are in control and who rule over that world with absolute power. You, Walter, are a perfect example of that."

Walter looked into the eyes of is son, all he saw was cold icy indifference that carefully masked a swirling torrent of burning hate. He was beginning to get frightened as Mason continued, "Look at you Walter. You are God in the world you created for yourself. You own a large company so you can buy just about anything, you have a wife who wont stand up to you so you can do whatever you want to her, and two small children to help make you look like the perfect father while you maintain your god-like position by exercising your power onto them by beating them senseless."

"Mason?" Walter was confused and frightened, "Why am I tied to this chair? Mason? Answer me Mason."

Mason ignored Walter as he approached a small table that was located near the chair; it was covered with a thin black sheet. Mason dramatically removed the sheet and allowed Walter to take a look at what lied on the table: a row of knives and hammers and finally a 1911 Colt. Walter's eyes went wide with fear and his mouth hung open.

"Now it's time for me to make my world," Mason said as he held up several other items: a lighter, a drill, and a gallon of gas that lay next to the table. "Baptism by fire, seems an appropriate title for the creation of my world. My world. I like the sound of that. My world, and you're just living in it Walter, for now."

"Mason, please…" Walter pleaded. He was terrified now, he knew what was coming.

"You're begging?" Mason asked in mock disbelief, "Tell me Walter, did Vincent beg and plead for his life like you are now when you smashed his skull in?"

"I didn't mean to… It was an accident, I got carried away…" Pathetic.

"Did he Walter?" Mason continued, "I knew my mother did whenever you would throw her onto your bed and rape her." Mason's previously emotionless mask cracked for a moment as he showed a brief glimpse of his hate.

"Mason… Please…"

"Confess to what you've done Walter," Mason said as he picked up another tool off the table, a wire cutter. "Take responsibility; confess to what you've done to Vincent and Mary Thorn."

"Yes… I did it…" Walter hissed out, "I killed them, but you have to understand Mason… I didn't kill you because I knew you were strong I knew that you were worthy of continuing my legacy, continuing what I've built. You were strong Mason, that's why you survived."

Mason nodded in false understanding. "What you reap is what you sow," was all Mason said, "Then it's about time you reaped the rewards of your crimes Walter. It's about time you got a glimpse at what you 'built', because after tonight it comes crumbling down and I build something of myself on my own, to make sure that there is no trace left of you in me, I am my own man after tonight. Because you won't be there to influence this new world of mine." He approached Walter and slipped one of his fingers in between the blades.

"Wait! Wait!" Walter pleaded, "I confessed, aren't you happy with that?!"

"Don't worry Walter," Mason said coolly, "I will be soon enough." Mason went to work. He used every tool he had to the best of his ability, when Mason was finished he almost didn't recognize Walter. Now the two truly were different. Mason breathed in and out and decided it was time to finish things off. Mason picked up the gas can and dumped it all over Walter, baptism by fire indeed. Mason lit up a lighter than mercilessly dropped it on top of the gas soaked body of Walter Thorn.

He caught on fire immediately, and while Walter burned, Mason picked up the 1911 Colt and pulled back the slide saying, "Better get used to the temperature where you're going Walter!" Mason then pointed the gun at Walter and emptied the whole clip into him. The Job was done, Walter was dead. Justice at its most gruesome.

After that day Mason stuck around Jump City a little longer to make sure everything went according to his plan. After he thought he waited long enough he paid off the debts of Walter and then he visited Vincent's and Mary's grave one last time. Lesser men would have committed suicide, but not Mason; suicide was the coward's way out to him. Instead Mason packed up the last of the money he had to his name along with some food, some clothes, and a gun Walter kept around the house and then left the city. He paid a coyote to smuggle him out of the country and into Mexico.

Mason spent the next few months, if not a year wandering. In his wandering he learned that he had a unique talent for selling things, whenever he picked something up while on the road he could always sell it for twice if not three times its original value. Mason hung around gun fights and drug busts gone wrong, he became accustomed to death's presence and would wait until the dust had settled so he could pick up the drugs and weapons and then sell it for himself. He only spent the money he earned on what he needed to survive out on the rode. By the time he made it to Columbia he tried selling a few pistols to a FARC general when he was captured by FARC, it was a setup. The purpose was to bring him before FARC's only arms dealer and execute him in front of him.

That's when Mason met Nikolai. Nikolai was a tall and muscular KGB defector turned CIA employed arms dealer who was well into his late twenties. He was experienced in the business of gun running and was nicknamed as "Russia's Charity" due to the fact that he was always generous to everyone. He looked down at a broken and beaten Mason, someone who had traveled across Central America to find a place for himself in the world, and he showed mercy. He took Mason in, took care of him, and eventually taught Mason the business. He saw Mason's natural talent and taught him the ropes of being an arms dealer and introduced him to his many clients and contacts.

Nikolai had always been kind to Mason and never tried to be like a father figure to Mason, but much rather acted like best friend to Mason. One of the few Mason ever had. And Mason did enjoy his company, it was one of the few times Mason would actually have fun. The two were close and inseparable, helping each other when they needed to be helped. When Mason needed some extra cash Nikolai would spot him some, and whenever Nikolai needed some competition or an untrustworthy client rubbed out he would ask Mason to handle it.

This is also where Mason contributed some pseudo-heroic deeds. Whenever he asked for money it would be for a good cause, like to help a innocent person whose loved ones were victims of kidnapping and they couldn't afford the ransom. And whenever Mason volunteered for an operation such as a bank robbery or a contract killing, Mason would always make sure that the target truly deserved his losses. Be it money or his own life. Mason always targeted criminals, something about killing a fellow criminal that just made Mason feel bullet proof. He wasn't sure if that counted as heroic, but it did in Mason's book. He would shrug his shoulders and think 'fuck 'em they had it coming when they got in the business anyway'.

"Don't ever sell your soul to these bastards." Nikolai always said to Mason, it was a lesson Mason had taken to heart the moment he first heard it. That was something else the two shared, there were certain businesses that Nikolai refused to work with, because their businesses he found to be morally object able. Sometimes Nikolai did do business with them but only as a method of undermining their businesses. Mason took note of this, but he kept it well hidden he wanted people to think he was different than Nikolai when Mason would inevitably inherit the business.

An arms dealer is cursed with a short life span, whether he is killed by an agent or a criminal he works with, the moment you become an arms dealer Mason knew your days were numbered. He knew that Nikolai was inevitably going to die, but he didn't think it would come so soon.

When Mason was eighteen, five years after he freed himself from his old life, Nikolai was found dead in Prague. No one knew who did it. That day, Mason moved up in the world from an anonymous kid on the side who helped Nikolai out on deals and would assassinate anyone who got in his way, to a full blown arms dealer with an organization at his command.

Mason never liked the idea of getting things through inheritance, he preferred to earn what he gained which is why he never asked a penny from Nikolai unless he absolutely needed to. So Mason took what he had gained from Nikolai, and expanded the organization to include more than just guns. Drugs, hitmen, and various other nefarious items were added onto his list of exports. Mason spent the next three years as 'The Salesmen'.


Mason pulled himself from his memories as he entered his hideout once more, and some less than heroic thoughts began to churn in his head. He remembered what he saw when he was looking down on the AUC mobile HQ outside the school: he saw the green Titan, Beast Boy, and the female member of Unit Zero, Sarah, kissing. He smiled as he realized that he just found his way around those accursed heroes. It was a nasty business, attacking ones enemies through their heart, but in this case it was necessary. Mason now knew what he needed to do, and it revolved around Beast Boy and Sarah.

He laughed in his throat, why didn't he think of this earlier? "Young love indeed." He said to himself, "I believe I should 'meet' these two."


Review, ye sinners! Let me know on how you think Mason is developing as a character. And I hope you're still reading LordHalo, I'm missing your reviews. Next Chapter, the Titans celebrate over a round of drinks. See ya soon, Pals.