Names Tom Ashford, Im a southern gentleman from the United States of America. I have been fighting just about all my life, being bounced from orphanage to orphanage, never knowing my true family. When I was 18, I enlisted in the marines as a scout sniper. Being able to see my target from miles away, take a breath, and *click* they were no more was unlike any experience I had before. I trained for years to become one of the US's best killing machines and fought many wars in foreign places, often wondering who was actually the bad guy. Years went by and I started to feel more and more distant from the Marines I once knew. I decided that once I got the chance, I would try and get out and make something of my life. I was at one of our undisclosed bases in Europe when the shit hit the fan. Our base started to get strange radio messages about soldiers becoming unresponsive and attacking their fellow comrades. No one believed them, but I was always skeptical and it seemed strange that they had our radio frequency. Soon after these messages, people in our base started to fall Ill and our infirmary became overrun with patients who had a mysterious ailment that aligned with the man on the radios description. I figured this might not be a good thing for anyone on the base so I decided to leave and head east. As soon as I left the base, about a mile down the road, the air raid sirens went off. Gunshots were clearly happening in the distance, so I Ran. After a few months now, the time starts to blend together, I end up near this airfield. Clearly in another language, but the sign appears to read Bolota.