Lance grew up in a fairly large town near Cleveland, as normal as any other child. He went to school, played soccer in his spare time, had plenty of friends-it was all very nice and dandy. Except for his family. An abusing father and a weak mother, a drug-addicted older brother, and a sister who sold her body to anyone she could. His family was the part of his life that he wished would vanish. His father was an angry alcoholic, who beat his wife when she wouldn't obey him, and was generally a terrible guy, although for some reason, he only attacked Lane when he tried to get involved. Details would only make you sick. No, really. It got to the point where Lance had to start taking his mother to a friends house, and keeping her safe from his rages. Lance was only fifteen at the time.
Not long after this escalation of anger, Lance's father was killed one night when a fight between him and another drunken man went sour and the other man pulled a gun. Lance was almost happy to here the news, but not really. He was too nice for that. What he worried about was his mother, and his siblings. His father was the only one with a job, or so he thought. Without him, how would they pay for living. And yet, somehow, the bills kept being paid. Apparently Lance's older sister, Maya, hadn't been spending her money in the way Lance thought she was. Things settled down a bit, then, although much of Lance's kind spirit and calm disposition was scarred by the whole regard.
Things should have picked up, but then Maya found a 'soulmate', a military man who was apparently on leave. A long, long leave, as Lance was soon to find out. The guy crashed in their house and turned it into his own, leeching off of Maya, who had finally managed to get a real job as a store clerk. Unlike Lance's father, this man actively picked on the now sixteen year old boy, pushing him around, and generally hurting his spirits. Lance was once again at the bottom of the food chain, and during this time of stress, his mom passed away, and his older brother left the family, leaving Lance, Maya, and her 'soulmate' behind. And yet once again, not all was as it seemed.
Lance discovered that when the black car showed up at his house in the middle of the night, and Maya dragged him down to the door. The seventeen year old boy was shoved in the car, and sent away, after his sister hugged him, told him she loved him, and said she was sorry for not acting sooner. The car took him to the strangest place: a large mansion, in the middle of a forest, completely undetectable by any means. The man who greeted him there was the uncle he had been told to never talk to, or visit. And yet, here he was.
His Uncle never told Lance his true name, asking to be called Uncle, or Master, as Lance was soon to find out. His uncle was an ex-military man, or so he said, with extensive training in so many forms of combat, it made Lance's head spin. The man had tried and tried to get a hold of Lance and his siblings, but Lance's father had refused for no reason at all. When the man died, Uncle had moved. Quietly filling out forms of adoption, and other various papers, Uncle had effectively taken Lance under his wing, although not for the reasons Lance thought.
Slowly, and without Lance ever realizing it, Uncle began to train the boy to be exactly like himself. A cold, calculating, absolutely lethal killer. He taught Lance everything he would have learned in school, and trained him in several forms of martial arts, 'simply for protection', he said. He taught the boy hacking, stealth, camouflage, random computer skills, knife fighting, marksmanship, and many other things that Lance never saw the point of. And yet despite this, Lance never questioned him. He couldn't; the man was keeping him safe, feeding him, and educating him. He wasn't willing to risk losing it all. He was twenty-four, and getting his college degree online when he finally gathered the courage to ask the man what he wanted to know.
Uncle came home late one night, and found Lance waiting for him. Uncle tried to hide the bloodstained throwing knife he had in his hand, but he had done his work too well. Lance instantly spotted it, and the accusations began to fly. Lance found out what his Uncle really was - an assassin, a mercenary, and a liar. In a rare fit of Rage than he's regretted ever since, Lance struck down his uncle, and left the man critically injured. It was a cheap shot, a kick in the groin. Lance wouldn't have been able to beat the man any other way.
Lance left. He had to. He lost his college degree, couldn't get a job, and was simply miserable. He had a skill set, he just refused to consider it. He wasn't a killer. But good morals doesn't feed, nor pay bills. He couldn't get a job anywhere else; he had no car, no house, and no true high-school degree. He had nothing but the skills his Uncle had ingrained into his very being.