• His name was Edge Vanguard. A lame name, but one for which he could claim his own. He traveled the land, with his best friends and his family, making this facist-b*****d filled nation into one that was liveable. Eventually, his tales were told only in legend, and his acts were of great hope to the many who still starved, suffered and died.
    But for all the world and it's hope, there is always the killer and his men. The leaders of this corrupt world did not like Edge and his deeds. They deemed him an irrelavent mess-he could not be corrupted like the majority of men. So, they sent an elite hitman squad to kill him in the night.
    At that time, Edge and his companions were located in the Sahara, traveling from town to town in order to help them all out. A bullet rang out in the distance-at first, Edge and his men were slightly paranoid, but to fear bullets in a war torn place as this is like trying to fear birds in America. So they continued...but then another bullet rang out. At this point, one of Edge's men dropped, a bullet hole between his eyes. Another collapased, with one in his leg. Then, a group of men burst out the ground and bashed the men with clubs of metal. One of them grazed Edge, and he fell like a rag doll...
    When Edge awoke, he was surrounded by his dead comrades. The bruise on his head prevented him from noticing the real horror...as he finally got the light out of his eyes,and his head was once clear, Edge noticied that all of his friends had been slain...Edge fell on his knees. In a last ditch attempt at hope, he looked for his family. He saw 4 blurry shapes in the distance, and ran at them with joy.
    That is, until he arrived. Upon four ropes and 4 stakes, their bodies hung, with a sign that said:
    "We let YOU live Edge. Now, we hope you learned."
    Edge screamed in an unhuman rage-his dreams were crushed, his best friends dead and his family without a dignified death. He ran for the nearest knife, and stabbed himself through the gut...everything faded to black...
    He awoke again, to his horror and dismay. Looking around, he realized this was not his camp. An African witch doctor stood over him, and muttered a few words in a language Edge did not understand. Then, a familiar face came-Hab'i'ib(HA-ee-ib), a friend from his trading days.
    "Why did you save me comrade??I wished to die!"(In Arabic)
    "I saved you because your journey is not over. The capatalist pigs, facist asses and communists bastards made you suffer. Now, we must return the favor.". Edge stood up, seeing his skin now painted like a clown of some sort.
    "What did the witch doctor do to me??"
    "I blessed you boy. You won't die know until your deed is complete. Take that blade and cut yourself." Edge oblidged. Though the pain was still very great, he realized what he must.
    Donning a cape of the witches of North America, with clothes from there London and Japan, he took his knife. And he vowed that until the day he could no longer move, he would make sure they would be found decapitated, or with their throat slit, or with a mortal wound. He would forever shun his name Edge Vanguard and be known as The Stalker.