A mans silouhette can be seen in the dimmed light of a hangar. Sitting on a Nyx interceptor fighter.
He lights a cigarette...
"I was born into the war. Born into mutual killing and the fight for survival...
I lost everything when I was still a child.
Well, not really. My father ran away after my mothers death... He got killed a few years later....
So yeah, You could say I lost everything....
I learned young to fly and shoot my foes before they shoot me...
I was fighting for so many years now, I can't even remember how long it's been since I had just a little flight only for the sake of flying or walk on any given moon or planet that has not seen the battles of the ones who fight for their right to live...
I forgot to count how many times I escaped death with nothing left that my life.
Each time that happened, I got stitched back together and sent into battle once again...
Most of my body is not really human anymore...
Cybernetics... Duh... "Become born anew and feel as a whole again" They say... Stupid infomercials...
If you'd ask me about a resume of my current life:
Sleep, fight, shoot then shoot even more, get out alive or get out barely alive, sleep, repeat..."
Morning rises on planet Pecos.
The hangars are full of wrecked Nyx fighters.
One of them, or rather what is left of it is tagged in red paint "Hellfire". Holes and ripped open hull segments are the proof of heavy battles. Bloodstains can be seen on the cockpits frame, reaching out to the left wing.
The wounded pilot must have been dragged out of it.
The medical station on camp New Hope West is crowded.
Doctors, nurses run all over the place to take care of the wounded pilots, crew members and civilians that got caught into the heavy battle that took place in orbit of Yuma.
In the intensive care unit, regular beeps can be heard coming from the darkened right corner of the room, from the one bed that is not empty....
Cpt. James Rascal can be read on the wounded's documents...
Suddenly, the emergency sound kicks in, heartbeat rises in an alarming rate...
