I was born in London, England. I remember little about my life there as I moved when I was 5 years old, due to my fathers job working at the Embassy in Nyheim. As the son of an ambassador I had a comfy early life, escorted by private security in most places I went, residing in one of the upper class areas of the city. In 2055 my father was assassinated by an anti-government fanatic and in 2060 my mother died by suicide. I was thrown into the world alone. A couple of the friends I had decided to look to the future and joined the military, for a stable wage and the ability to protect themselves and their loved ones. For me, it wasn't about that. I had no-one left. I felt a sense of vengeance towards the man who had killed my father (and had not been caught). Joining the military, I allowed myself to become a human weapon. Extensive hand to hand combat and firearms training, alongside the focus and drive that I had kept me sane and gave me a sense of purpose. I served for many years, without question of loyalty or morals. In my mind I was protecting the innocent and delivering justice to those who deserved it. That was until the bombings of 69'. My unit were given no notice or information about this, not that it would've mattered much in my mind. The Authorities killing their own would've never have sat right with me. I wasn't in direct radius of the blasts, but close enough to witness the destruction. The hours after the bombings left me blood-soaked and numb. Watching fellow soldiers die in my arms, civilians too. I returned to my home in the upper class region of the city. Still untouched. They would never bomb their own elite. I stripped myself of my uniform and used it as fuel for my fire that would keep me warm that night. The power was out in almost all the city, and not everyone would be as lucky as me. I never returned to my unit, they probably presumed me dead, MIA at the very least. In the coming months the economy quickly began to collapse, along with society. I fell into an alcohol addiction to numb the mental pain, which allowed me to meet some of the underground dealers. Some of them were involved in local militias and rebel groups and would go on to offer me a place in their ranks. I knew I was a valuable asset to them, being an ex-soldier. After a few more months of hiding, I decided that I couldn't live like a rat any longer and reached out to a rebel group. I would find myself fighting alongside them for the next year until the great collapse. It came suddenly. Thousands of people storming the gates of the city, now festering with infected. I had no choice but to flee, staying put would be suicide... And this is where I find myself now. Alone in the wilderness. Scavenging like a rat.