Bruno Pierce was dedicated. He had one drive, and that was to do his duty. Bruno was a detective, and he sought after justice against those who’ve wronged the world. He went into his cases like a rabid dog, furiously searching and scouting out for any leads he may find. Though, this rabidity eventually led to his downfall. He became violent. Interrogations became impromptu torture sessions, he started killing off gangsters instead of sending them to jail, framing it as inter-gang warfare. His own twisted justice began to form in his mind, and soon he started becoming what he hated most, a criminal. He started working with more professional organizations to take out enemy members, using his police status to get into areas otherwise cordoned off to normal hitmen. He got a lot more money from these guys anyways. He eventually afforded himself a small house, alongside a sizeable sum of savings available to him, all thanks to dealing with criminals in his own way, without laws bringing him down. Though the killing started to haunt him, images of fear on boys no older than 16 began to pop up in his nightmares, the countless screams, it all started to fall on his shoulders. He stopped his job, much to the dismay of these professional crooks, who started to hire their own hitmen to take him out and tie up any loose ends. It got so bad where he eventually had to flee the country, to Chernarus, in order to escape the every growing grasp of the underworld. There he began drinking heavily, enjoying Russian vodka and Chernarussian beer, being a happy, rich drunk until the infection began to spread. He looked into the screen, and the faces of agony that played on the television set reminded him of his own actions. He quickly fled the main cities, opting instead for a life out in the wilderness. He met friends, and enemies, but mostly kept to himself, now only occasionally drinking. But soon, that’d all change. Everything about him would change, and every ideal he held dear would be put into question.