ADDENDUM: names of the people and locations involved in the following file have been [REDACTED] according to the wishes of the subject and for the ongoing safety of those involved.) I was born and raised on the planet [REDACTED] back in the free days of the frontier, I lived a fairly tough life, we were farmers, not wealthy by any stretch but we got by. Before long I had met the most amazing woman this side of the galaxy, not even the stars could contest our shared destiny, or so we believed. Not long after the birth of our child, the IMC came to our home. We had heard of their ravenous crusade through the frontier but had never imagined it would come for us, come for our souls. Luckily for us, the hopeless void of stars offered us salvation: the militia. I joined up immediately of course, I refused to allow my family to languish under their ruthless heel. Morale was high to begin with, but the situation quickly deteriorated. The war dragged on for years and I raced up the ranks through my efforts to protect my own. For this I was given my own squad, my own responsibility, my own failing. It seemed a standard operation, at first. The war seemed to have come to a head and we were told we were winning. My squad were sent on a covert insertion into an IMC forest base, planetside. It was an ambush, they knew we were coming. My men, my brothers …were slaughtered like animals. I only escaped through a fluke, though at the time, I wished nothing more than to have died at their side. By this point, the bloodlust had taken me, the IMC had forced me to bathe in the blood of my brothers and now, I had a taste for theirs. No killing was too brutal, no torture too reprehensible to make them repent their sins, the militia never came for me, never assumed any of us could’ve survived. For fourteen months I wreaked havoc behind enemy lines, the trees were my cloak, vengeance my dagger. By the time the militia found me, I was almost too far gone…the locals had begun to call me ‘Nito’ and I embraced the moniker . (ADDENDUM: The name appears to originate from folklore in the area, of an ancient deity representing the concept of death, the subject no longer uses his birth name) We had all but won the war and the militia had managed to push far enough into enemy territory to discover my location. I had expected to be welcomed home as a hero, instead, I was reviled, paraded as a war criminal. The militia knew of what I’d done in those forests and I was court-marshalled posthaste. I was to be stripped of my rank and dishonourably discharged. My own wife and child, looked at me like some monster, they were fully entrenched in the militia’s media and refused to see any other perspective. I left the home my brothers made the ultimate sacrifice to protect, shamed and downtrodden. This was when I decided to enlist in the AHA as a combat medic. Why not? The pay was decent by my standards and I needed something to fight for. Since then I have found new purpose in the people I am now sworn to protect. Now I fight for my new friends, who I would lay my life down to protect, and of course, to one day redeem myself in the eyes of my beloved, my Rosemary.