| PhiXZT0078 backstory; Posted by NX100 for Kuler_Icehart | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Apr 16 2011, 02:24 PM (30 Views) | |
| NX100 | Apr 16 2011, 02:24 PM Post #1 |
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Lieutenant-Administrator
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Back story for PHI XZT 3078 after boot, as usual according to telerial protocol, I was deployed with my company directly as a whole group. The squad I was commanded to lead was therefore as close as a combat squad can be. We were the best, the cream of the crop. Someone could hack into our comms channel, and think it was dead. There was absolutely zero vocal comms between us. Text comms were single words, if very few, and the plan was gone through so many times before each operation that the execution was almost like a body moving. We WERE a body moving. All ten of the men under my command knew each other better than they knew themselves. We were Spec Ops, and no army could stop us. Until we met them. It was another typical expansion resistance, so it seemed. My squad was sent to drop behind enemy lines and to mark out encampments and, eventually, destroy the inhabitants. It was all in vain. We began our rounds. But we underestimated our opponents. A sentry spotted us and followed us for a while he was a smart enemy and a good hunter who hated our presence and was insulted by the fact that we could shame their culture by sneaking up on them. He knew our ways and, even more importantly, the most insulting way to insult an officer. When he knew he was ready, he made himself known to us, then promptly killed every single one of my squadmates before my eyes while my arms and legs were incapacitated. Then took my helmet and hacked into the system, encoding all of my squadmates status as a permamnet MIA and locking it with his DNA as the password so I could not bring any under my command home. Then, to make it worse, he took out my windpipe and installed a new one into me, so that every breath I took was another reminder of my failure as an officer to bring my men home, dead or alive. To kill my men without me being able to aid them as they screamed in pain, and my failure as a soldier to kill those in my way of the mission to be completed or to die trying. I have vowed to kill 10 of their kind in the most insulting way possible for each of my squadmates, and if I am to find the one who killed my squad, I will make his death the worst of all, then take his DNA and finally bring my men home. Only then will I rest in peace. After all this and the burial of my squad under blank tombstones, I was placed in another platoon. A platoon that was broken and filled with the broken. One of my team was an expert with electronics. He heard my story and gave me a program, a virus, that shuts down all functions on a helmet. It turns on the blast sheild and displays on the screen one word: goodbye. So those whose helmets I infect, cannot take off their helmet and are deprived of all the senses but touch, so they die alone as I died alone. Besides the seven whom I killed, I killed many more. Any who rose against the Telerial Empire met my wrath. Among those whom I fought against I was given a name: Maesh'kaal-ma. The Cold Armor. I was offered many medals, all of which I rejected, even the Iron Fist. To keep the Maesh'kaal-ma's face hidden. To instill fear in the hearts of all who knows me by name, but to keep camouflaged in life so I may strike again. Seven of my men have been avenged, and all seven of those who killed telerials I watched as they died alone. And I'll watch all the others die alone as well. They have spilt my brethrens blood, they have spilt my sons' blood. I will complete the righteous justice of the Telerial Empire and not even death will stop me. |
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