The Lean. The Mean. The Pit. The Ghetto.

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Welcome to TITAN incorporated

A Future You Can Trust In

As a small southern upstart innovation center, our primary mission with TITAN technologies is to provide the public with all the assets to better living standards. We believe the modern household is each family's own kingdom and to that notion, we are looking to fortify every citizen's legal land and leisure. The assets we provide ensure the war on crime stays out of your home, the neighbor's home, and eventually, all neighborhoods.

So, welcome to safer neighborhoods. Welcome to a safer homes. And welcome to a TITAN-trust future.

The Model T1(e) Rollout

Leading with the Model T1(e), we are officially soft-launching our premiere foray into personal assistance synthezoid. A design incepted by our core team and curated through our exciting sponsor, the TITAN 1/exclusive (or T1(e)) is stark model in modern artificial Intelligence. Utilizing

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Ex Nilhilo (CVU Char. Intro)

Boston - Before the Titans were unleashed

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"Y'all thought you were safe didn't you?... Admit it, you thought I was gone"

The Bison Priest muses as he leans in the sliding door window of their private laboratory. He's turned his back to the four men held at gunpoint to admire the skyline. One might not be able to tell by the demonic veneer of his signature mask, but The Bison found deep shame having to spill blood under such a beautiful amethyst evening.

A bold snap erupts from the debonair devil's leather fist and the man held furthest to the left of the line is shot with no hesitation. There was a hushed pop from the round fired, a looming silence, and finally the heavy crashing of the limped remains. The other three wanted to wail, but their mouths were met with strong hands from the Bison's crew.

"I loved that guy. I loved all of you, but y'all just don't know when to take a hint. Jesus Christ! We were suppose to do amazing things, the five of us... But at some point under sun, you [censored] found the- the gaul- the lunacy to ruining everything we worked for. Why?"

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There's another snap and the next engineer in line fell cold soon after. Then, The Bison felt compelled to divert his attention away from the skyline to the very hand that just sent a man to death. His posture suggests a sense of anguish, but he continues from a distance.

"Disavowing me was one thing, but trying to turn our work- MY work- against me! [Censored]!!! Project Titan was not for y'all to market. Most certainly not to the goddamned government, the one institution that could [censored] us six ways 'til Sunday!"

The Bison Priest lets his words echo throughout the whole room until there is a profound silence and one last snap. When there was only one man left standing, The Bison finally faced the man and quietly closed the distance between themselves like the long shadow of a predator looming over its prey. The gunmen are called off and the mutinous scientist can finally speak as the Bison bears his index and middle fingers down on his temple like a mugger's glock.

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"You were our first failure... And selling the project into government supervision was suppose to prevent sending another unchecked killer out into the world." As smart as this man was, he could tell when a checkmate was nearing over the horizon and he spoke candidly hoping for the most efficient impact. "We loved you too, Randall..."

"No. You wanted to enslave me. And the same could be said for the Titans we were building. But don't worry I'll carry on our work. I'll fix everything" and with those final words, the hand-gun is fired and the man's cranium is eviscerated. The amount of blood splatter was almost appalling, and the Bison's crew circled around their leader to better absorb the view. Ridged and unaffectionate, just as they were programmed.

The Bison Priest was quiet and full of contempt despite himself. Eventually the remains of the last engineer's body fell to its knees in a pathetic slump. Under the amethyst sky light, all these figures looked the shadows of mankind. The silence lasted for too long until a phone's ringer erupted in The Bison's pocket. He takes a second to adjust the collar around his flesh and concludes with the crew, "I hope y'all will excuse the urgency, but we've got a press conference in twenty [minutes], so let's clean up here and get ready to perform."


The Quiet Man Who Came From Hell

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Maybe they should have just left him cold. The blood that littered the tattered remains of his home could have been the spirits of infinite madness finally accepting decay.

Perhaps the boy should have been given a chance at the regular life, but the potential for conquering armies boiled inside him life an innate gift. The skill bellowed from his every action as they boiled over the child into a killer.

"Throw him to the pit" , they said in their native tongues and just as so, the killer was sacrificed to the deep darkness below ground. Amongst several other candidates in a hopes of fulfilling a twisted prophecy.

And no, no one knows how long he was down there. In fact tales of his great escape varied with every pair of loose lips, but all stories ended up at the same point of resolution, "He opened fire on the very people that made him a weopon and promised the prophecy was correct, his very existence meant other men's demise."

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And then the killer disappeared

Until the living weopon came back as a the Quiet Man

He traveled the Earth watching greater beings drive mankind into eras of both great despair and fleeting justice. He watched money build kingdoms and tarnish whole cities with the same burning resolute as the Romans. The Quiet Man saw much, but intervened little.

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The prophecy sung behind his every thought, sure. And everyone who saw his escape years ago lived in fear of the day when he finally granted Mother Earth sweet release from this plague called mankind. But the Quiet Man saw no faults in the people. They could hardly control the events of their own lives much less the tides of earth.

No, the fault was in the stars. So, the Quiet Man adopted the ways of the most powerful faces in modern society and shaped the wild havoc within into a more spontaneous yet fluid style of combat, like jazz. All behind the skilled dances of his various weapons, The Quiet Man challenged every faction of heros and villians with extreme prejudice.

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Allow Me to Reintroduce Myself

Some know me as scum. Others call me a bounty hunter.

I've been called the target. I've been known to hunt.

I've accumulated more money than I'll ever be able to spend in this lifetime, and I'll be around for a while.

I've made a reputation for myself as something that is surprisingly common on earth; a rich madman

I'm bored by this distinction as I'm a great white amongst smaller schools of fish, not just another student. So to speak.

So allow me to reintroduce myself

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My name is Ran Ketch.

I'm no hitman, but instead a conqueror.

From here on out I'm not just collecting a pay for a kill. I'm proving myself as the world's deadliest.

Some will know me as their king. Others will call me their hunter.

All will know I'm the great white.