A good friend will come bail you out of jail...

The Holy Assassin

He was genetically engineered to be the greatest assassin. Created part man, and part wolf. He was give extraordinary senses of smell and hearing, and gifted with superhuman reflexes, strength, and through the gift of his tail, balance. He was the best assassin who ever lived. He and his brethren of the assassin guild sought to bring about an end to all organized religion and to destroy all that was considered good and holy in the world. Until one day it was discovered that separatists were lurking among him and his guild members, learning all that they could about this masterful assassin. Once they had developed a plan of attack to bring down the guild, they attacked from the inside. He fought to defend the guild from the separatists, but he was defeated. Brought down and left for dead. He was discovered by clergy from a nearby church who had heard to commotion caused by the battle. He was found with his body nearly destroyed cuts, gashes everywhere and his left arm had been lost in the battle. The church restored him, replaced his arm with a mechanical one plated with gold, he was brainwashed to fight on the side of the church to relinquish his old methods of destroying the church. His body was tattooed with a scripture to prevent his memories from returning. They equipped him with high tech and top of the line gear to be the new assassin he was trained to be. Given a computerized headset visor able to give him readouts of everything occurring in battle, the damage he was taking, the enemies around him, and all threats heading toward him. Mechanical wings with which he can fly high like an angel. Protective armor able to withstand bullets, swords, axes and almost everything that could be thrown at him, yet light enough that he could move stealthy and silently. Now he fights for the church against his former brothers and all enemies the church has. He slowly uncovers more about his past the more he fights and the seal he is cursed with grows weaker slowly. He carries with him always the dog tags of his victims and former comrades.

...A true friend will be sitting there next to you saying, "Damn we ******** up".