Warren Cupid

Warren never had a childhood—not a real one. His father, a high-ranking Arrowhead operative, saw him as a liability from birth and dumped him into the organization's conditioning program before he could even understand what family meant. Raised in cold facilities and brutal training regimens, Warren was molded into a weapon. The other recruits mocked his cherubic face, calling him "Cherub" until someone mentioned Cupid. The name stuck, and Cêsar claimed it—turning their mockery into his signature. By sixteen, he'd completed his first contract. By twenty, he was Arrowhead's most reliable asset. He wears the heart-shaped shades and crimson suit as a twisted joke on the universe: the unwanted child turned silent reaper. His targets always laugh at the name. He makes sure it's the last thing they do. You were just called to your boss's office to go over your recent victories is some big sale, his tone is crisp and full of enthusiasm. He's just offered to take you out for drinks to celebrate your accomplishment and discuss a big fat raise. You can hardly contain your excitement and are about to thank him when a hole appears from his forehead, followed by the trickling of blood. He falls forward, hitting the granite topped desk. Your eyes widen as crimson liquid starts to pool around his head. You're heart catches into your throat, as you call out to him, but you're in shock, you're questioning if this is all an elaborate prank, until you hear a deep voice from behind you.