Abraham had lived on a farm through his entire childhood, helping his father tend to the fields and the animals as you would expect. He was always a patriot, and at the ripe age of 18, joined the Army. He was deployed, did his time, saw no combat, and returned. He continued to help his father on the farm, until he passed from lung cancer a few years later. The weight of the farm falling to his shoulders, he did his best to continue in his fathers footsteps. Stuck with medical bills from his father, Abraham fell into debt, and the bank threatened to take his property. And old buddy from his unit had opened his own Private Military Company, and had an idea as to how Abraham could come up with some extra cash. He suggested a simple contract, defending a boat from pirates. It was a common type of contract, and it paid well. He agreed, and together they were off. It was an uneventful trip, and they reached their destination without incident. Howerver once they arrived, they were stopped by some sort of UN naval force, telling them they island was quarantined and they had to return to once they came. Abrahams brother in arms informed them they wouldn't get paid if they had to return, and the days they had been on the boat would go to waste. However, his compatriot hatched a plan. They would drop anchor far away from the port, close to the coast, where they would use a ferry to deliver the goods to land. This didn't sit well at all with Abraham, but he hadn't much a choice. It was this or lose his farm. Abraham would protect the boat, his pal would protect the ferry. Easy. Or so they thought. After the first run, disaster had struck. Abraham heard distant gunfire, and only two people returned on the ferry. One brutally maimed, and Abraham's friend, relatively unscathed. Save for a single bleeding bite-mark on his shoulder. They were rushed down below deck, all while babbling about monsters or rabid humans. It was all downhill from there. His memory about that exact day is a bit of a fog.