I'm told I was two when I earned my first kill. 

I was on the lawn, sitting with my parents. Someone walked by with a dog. The dog freaked out and barked. I threw a toy at the dog and it was dead. Go figure.

When I was fifteen, I met a guy named Xavier. He talked my parents into sending me away to his school. Said I was special. I stayed there for about three months, and then, I ran away. That place was for losers. "Responsibility," they kept telling me. "You have a responsibility."

Yeah. I have a responsibility to ME.

I found a guy who called himself "The Taskmaster." He trained me. Then, I found a guy named Bullseye. I kept looking for teachers. Captain Boomerang was a joke. I even spent some time on the Joker's squad of goons. I got out of there, fast. Only assholes think, "Hey, let's go @#$% around where that Batman guy makes residence." I stayed the hell away from there.

Had a run-in with The Hand. They wanted to train me, too. I took what they had to offer and got out. Cults ain't my thing.

Worked for the Kingpin for a while, but he had a real hard on for that Greek broad; I saw there wasn't any room promotion. I got out of there.

I took a few jobs, kept my distance from the capes. Tried to stay low, not attract too much attention. But that Bat@#$% found me. Sent me to the Raven for a stretch. Keeping yourself sane in that place is hard enough, let alone keeping yourself alive. It's like the whole place is sick and it wants you to be sick, too.

Thought it was going to break me, so I broke out. Tried to stay under the radar, but Xavier's boy scouts caught up with me. Put me in Alcatraz. No problem. I broke out of harder places than this.

I was making my plan, getting ready for execution when I woke up one day with a bunch of assholes in this white room. Some broad named Waller smiling at me.

Yeah, sometimes, you just can't win for losing.