STRANGER, jesper fahey

INTRODUCTION

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The Stranger was a name that came about rarely in the ruin that was Ketterdam...and it was a mere whisper spoken in hushed voices as a last resort, as an extremity, as a curse, hardly heard of except by those who could afford it, afford its dangerous and mysterious talents of death, like some sort of haunted grim reaper of darkness that lingered around like a bad smell. The Stranger was simply something monstrous that would strike in the comfort of night and leave no trace of itself other than a dead target, taken before their time, their heart stopped in its boned prison and eyes glossed over with stained morality.

Of course with such success, myths were bound to be born around the murky streets, stories of a winged creature with abilities unknown to man or God, legends about forked tongues and glowing red eyes that stopped the blood from pumping in your veins. Dehumanised tales of a terrifying monster that was ripe for anarchy and destruction...tales that hid the truth, that hid the terror of the unknown by making up tales of beasts and horrors...seemingly forgetting that the real monsters were human and that was exactly who Gwen was...she was simply nothing more than a human with a name.

You see, the alias of being the Stranger was something to hide behind, something that was to be known while she could hide in its casted shadow, her identity hidden in her isolation because she knew the dangers of having people fear you as a person instead of simply fearing a name, a pedestal, a God...Unlike some other names of Ketterdam...such as her latest target.

The problem with people such as dirtyhands was the fact that they had forgotten that names had power, and giving himself a mantle, a legend, a title made him something almost saint-like, something immortal and important while being nothing of the sort that had people festering and begging and cowering in some sort of fear because he'd laid his threatening claim upon it, and yes, while fear and intimidation was a good way to get whatever point you needed it to be across, fear was also something to hold in cautious regard to the likes of being in power and holding it in your greedy grip stained with innocent blood.

Because the truth was fear could be the breaking or the making of a person, because when humanity faced something that should be feared, they gave themselves two options, they could either choose to take flight or to fight. Names were such precious and catastrophic things...and the Stranger knew that well, which was why it really wasn't such a shock when she'd finally been given his name to snuff out like dying embers of a roaring flame, to become nothing more than ash beneath her legendary foot, another tally on her board of death.

Gwen Rietveld was coming for Dirtyhands, the bastard of the barrel, Kaz Brekker...and she had no doubt that his ruin would be nothing short of brutal.

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"YOU'D BE MISTAKEN IF YOU THINK I HAVEN'T BEEN CALLED COLD BEFORE."