At the turn of the century I was working as a missionary in Bolivia, savin’ lives and takin’ names, when I guy I had forgotten reminded me of my past and I started having flashbacks of a woman I had sworn to protect. I remembered that I was borne into the ‘League of Assassins’ and, somehow, after decades of murdering people, suddenly developed a conscience and wiped my own memories to protect the people I love, whoever they are.
After a number of years of entirely amoral decisions, quite preposterous conditions and some lucrative franchises; I saw the woman I swore to protect fall off a waterfall. No body was found but, no one could survive that, right?
I had to face the consequences of my actions and, as I had an ungodly amount of money, I bought an island where, theses days, I mostly; sculpt life-size marble tableaus of ‘Goal of Month’ on ‘Match of the Day’ while watching generic cop shows and guessing ‘whodunnit’ in the first ten minutes while eating ‘Cheesy Wotsits’. ‘Sean Penn’ pops over every now and then. Christ knows how he got my number but, yeah, it’s ‘Sean Penn’. What are you supposed to to do when he knows where your, ‘supposedly’, secret island retreat is?
Now, I come out of retirement for the only transferrable skills an elite, world renowned, assassin with a conscience has.
