Once upon a time there was a boy born to a happy American family. This boy lived a joyous childhood, basking in the glow of love showered upon him by all sides. As a child he was raised bi-lingually, learning to hunt from his father, an avid enthusiast. A stable home, a loving family and private education, what more could one ask for. This boy grew into a diligent man and non violent man, bursting with cleverness and ambition. The man dreamed great dreams, the future seemed bright. Yet a persistant truth of the world remained, all good things must come to an end.
The man's mother grew ill and in time, the father too. So did the social and financial responbility of care, begin its slow and measured pulverization of spirit. The man, spurred by duty to family, enlisted in the military and sold his future in exchange for his parents health. Despite the healthcare he could now provide them with, his parents withered away and passed while he completed his training. The man was bereft and had no escape from the destiny he had set upon himself. Teetering on depression and mental collapse, the man sought purpose in life, yet meaning escaped him. Haunted by the loss of his family he dedicated himself to his work in order to forget. For a time, the man was content, for he had lost himself and become the tool that was needed. The crimes committed purged from memory through the justification of righteous cause.

He served as many others do, unrecognized in their skill and dedication. Eventually being deployed to Germany. It was here, many years after these tragic times that the man awoke. He saw what he had become, the sins he was responsible for. He could no longer see the boy he was, or the man he had been. In this clarity, the crushing reality of his lack of self drove him to despair and as it often does, despair prevailed. His military contract near expiration and his duty complete; the man walked to his end, the looming cliffs edge in sight. As the man labored onto the cliffs highest precipice, he stumbled upon something stronger than despair.

Love is a powerful thing, often coming fast and unexpectedly. So it was that this man found purpose once again in the beautiful face of hope and she came with the name Sima Bach. Their romance and love for one another was a beautiful thing, they uplifted each other to new heights. They moved North to Copenhagen Denmark, Sima's home. In this life, In each other, they both found happiness for a time. Yet as these things go, all good things - end.
The forced lockdowns of 2020 and 2021 were the beginning, intially taking things in good spirits the couple prepared to quarantine in force. Suffice it to say, spirits were lowered as society collapsed around them. Sima's parents died during lock down. As State Authorities began collapsing, the man knew that they would not be safe in the city for long. Before things got too bad, they went to the harbor and stole a boat, sailing North. The family had heard stories of the low infection rates on some of the Norwegian isles and of the potential sanctuary of Nyheim. The journey north was not fast, after nearly a year and multiple boats, the couple crashed landed on the Northern coast of Nyheim. They had picked up a few friends along the way and Sima had gotten pregnant. Upon their landing they sheltered in a small house along the coast, Sima needed rest. Their friends went out along the roads, looking for the promised sanctuary. 2 weeks past without word and food was beginning to run out, the man began to worry as to how they would survive. As these things go however, he needn't have. Sima went into labor 2 months early and died in childbirth, her infant with her. Robbed of love and bereft of purpose once again, the man found himself truly lost.

No matter what he did, how hard he strove or fought, the man realized he was cursed. There was no hope, it was a convenient lie used to save his own life, he was a coward. He had no self, no purpose, no identity. Everything he once was, he had either lost or had taken from him by fate. So he marched upon is final labor once again. Stand on the chair, Tie the rope around the rafter, slip your head into the noose. Only one thing left to do before kicking the chair out from under him.. Carve the name of the only thing that mattered onto his chest to let the world know, of Sima B...

Present day:

I have woken in an abandoned house. I have no memory of what has transpired or how I have come to be here. I write this now in a rotting journal so that I may remember my purpose despite my failing memory. I woke naked, hanging by a rope on a rafter and left for dead. Whoever tried to end me did a poor job of it, I guess they must have thought the chair I was standing on would break from my weight and hang me. Fools. They marked me, they have written the name Simba on my chest with a styilized B a little below the rest of the letters. Who am I? Where am I? Why is the world empty? I have so many questions but I realize now none of them matter. I am in purgatory, cursed to an eternal hell. The only question that matters now, is who, what, is Simba? This question, I know that this question will answer everything. Maybe I am Simba. My father used to say, you must think like prey to anticipate it. I will become my prey in order to understand it. I am Simba now. Simba the Survivor, Simba the coward, Simba the Destroyer, Simba the cursed. To know Simba, is to find myself. I am Simba. To know Simba is to know myself. I am Simba. To know Simba is to find myself. I must find myself... *the mantra continues for the rest of the page*