AndriYirovitch, brother of Anton Yirovitch, was born in Severograd in 1988. His parents would constantly move around both mainland Russia and Chernarussia, moving and settling down in St Petersburg until his brother, Anton, had reached the age of 20, who left him and his parents, alongside his older sister, to Chernarussia, to assist in efforts prior to the civil war. A few months passed, after his brother left, did he then discover what had happened, the outbreak of the infection in Chernarus, his brother still there, somewhere, wherever.
Weeks passed, his parents beginning to forget of their now lost son, however Vadislav did not. He argued with them, yelling "I WANT TO GO, I DON'T CARE IF IT'S A FUCKHOLE, MOTHER, I WANT TO FIND HIM!" Only, to his parents dismay, he left anyway, sneaking past the boarder, with armed forces and other groups, eventually splitting, and venturing out into the harsh wasteland of Chernarus. Vadislav searched far and wide, looking for his brother. Through Severograd, hearing of a man named "Redshirt," through Novodmitrosvk, hearing of a man named "Redshirt," he searched everywhere, hearing of this man, until, one day, he finally found him.
Just on the outskirts of Svetlojarsk, he found a small mound, a mound with a man beside it. A grave was a rarity in these times, Andri had discovered, and he questioned so, asking the man "Who does this mound belong to?"
The man replied with "A man, Redshirt, Chernarussian, knew few people, not very popular, got into some shit with others, killed himself."
The name "Redshirt," lit up in Andri's mind, and asked, "Redshirt.. ahuh.. what was his real name, tovarisch?"
"Anton Yirovitch, mate." The stranger replied, nodding his head, his hands in his pockets.
At this, Andri shuddered, silent, staring down at the grave. It was his brother, dead, beneath him. His loving brother, dead, by his own hand. He was not weak, he did it because he had to, Andri thought to himself. "Anton was never weak.." he stammered, clenching his fists. He turned to the stranger, nodded, and left.
After a day of searching, Andri found a redshirt, just, sitting on the ground, it was red, maybe not identical, but red.
Andri equipped the shirt, making sure it suited him, and smiled. "Andri Yirovtich.. Andri.. Redshirt.. Yirovitch."