This story is about Theron North.

Or as you know him: Kraven

Who am I if not a hunter?

I don’t want to think about what I’ll do after this. I’ve spent the last decade wreaking havoc around the world in preparation—destroying, building and killing—a lot of killing. For most people that would be the part that would get to them, but not me. At what point do you start considering yourself the reaper? At what point do you give in to the god complex of holding a life in your hands? Sometimes literally—I’ve held a bleeding heart, still beating, after I’ve torn...

This story is about Theron North.

Or as you know him: Kraven

Who am I if not a hunter?

I don’t want to think about what I’ll do after this. I’ve spent the last decade wreaking havoc around the world in preparation—destroying, building and killing—a lot of killing. For most people that would be the part that would get to them, but not me. At what point do you start considering yourself the reaper? At what point do you give in to the god complex of holding a life in your hands? Sometimes literally—I’ve held a bleeding heart, still beating, after I’ve torn it from my enemies chest.

At what point do you consider yourself evil?

Those are the questions your humanity is supposed to answer, but unfortunately that was stripped from me long ago.

What happens to a man when that’s gone? I’m afraid I’ll know the answer when all of this is over. That’s what they don’t tell you—no matter how deep into the shadows you go, the fear of losing yourself follows.

Even the dead and the dying fear the darkness.

Who am I if not a hunter?

Maybe I’ll live long enough to find out.

But first…

One last hunt.

One last dangerous game.