Nicholai Ivanov, boss of the Russian Bratva, gave me the ultimate gift. He saved me from a fate worse than death. He promised to make me strong, because only the strong survive, and the weak die, forgotten and inconsequential.
I now live in a world of blood and violence, where humanity itself is a weakness. My life is not a battle of bad and good, but bad and worse. This is kill or be killed, survival of the fittest.
Make me or break me?