In spite of his muscular build, Falsus stumbled in to the room at the shove of the marine. Looking at the professionally attired officer in front of him, pistol at the ready, he despaired. His life flashed before his eyes, and he cursed fate for the hand he had been dealt. Looking down at the floor, he opened his mouth, ready to utter some name he had been given years ago, one which he neither liked nor knew the meaning of. Yet, at that moment, the mangled face of the dead child of his dreams loomed in to his mind. He clutched his face with his hand, wracked by grief. His resolve had materialized, however. Straightening, he opened his hands and spread his arms out wide, the universal gesture of peace.
This universal gesture of peace, for all its grandeur, was rather tainted by his clothing. Still soaked in liquid cardamine and his own blood, (his hand had, for the most part, stopped bleeding) he presented a rather lackluster sight.
"I have been through hell and back, sir. I have seen people murdered, and I have even killed them myself. I am a destroyed, broken man." Looking at the officer, however, his eyes were set; unblinking. "Once upon a time, a man with my body had a name. That man did horrifying things; things unthinkable. I live only to atone for that man's sins; to try with all my might to right the wrongs he committed." He looked down at his soiled clothing, and back up at the officer.
"I want to help people, sir. I want to create a better world for ours and future generations, and I'm not foolish enough to think that I can do it alone. I have heard of this great and glorious coalition, and I believe it is the way to a better future for all of mankind. I'd like to volunteer my services."
"To answer your question, officer, I know of no name to go by." He looked up at the officer, gazing at him with steely, tired eyes. "I was rather hoping you had one for me."
