At 6’1 with a toothy stare, an ebony skin tone, agile and bony-faced Kip was truly dark, slightly underweight, and distinctly Nilotic. Even years of drinking beer and savoring poorly roasted Kenyan meat could not hide his masculine physique chiseled from his days in the military. At 37, he was very alert and sturdy, quick on his feet and ambidextrous. With enough kills to fill a mid-sized truck, he had dark squinty eyes that were often moist and sullied. Through them, nothing reflected. He was dead within. A man with little feelings and even lesser capacity to love and empathize. With ease and agility coupled with a body language that reflected poise and self-confidence, he was naturally endearing yet instinctively closeted. He was a breathing killing machine. He was the main man of a sleeper cell; a distinct group of assassins for hire, ready to do Papik’s bidding and to kill for anybody else who had the money to pay them.