User:Aligarvazorith
War torn Memories
Born in 1944 on the battlefield and the second son of the infamous Voyevoda, this man has a taste for war. He was first taken to North Korea by a now disbanded group known as 'The Philosophers' and got his first taste of action at the age of 16 in the Fatherland Liberation War. Part of the attack upon Chuncheon, he soon earned respect from many of his allies by managing to kill at least double the amount of enemies than any other person involved in the attack, and even rescued 17 injured personnel by carrying them out from a surrounded building, loosing only one person - which he lost due to the building collapsing.
His actions were not gone unnoticed, and was immediately assigned to the special ops team - used for gathering intel from southern Korea. This soon proved a boring job, and he requested he be put back onto normal duty, 'where the actions at'.
During the Incheon landing, he was injured by a friendly grenade, and was captured by the UN, but soon escaped and acquired a pistol with 3 rounds left in its magazine. With this, he managed to get back to north-Korean territory and start fighting again. However, the intervention of the UN and US forces proved too much, and was pushed to 5 miles south of the Yalu River.
Here, he was captured after being stuck inside a house with no ammunition, food or water for 3 days. After receiving treatment by UN forces, he escaped them once again, but decided to flee across china and into Mongolia.
After spending 3 months here, he became re-acquainted with an old war buddy and soon learnt all about the black market trade. A successful time in this tainted world made him more enemies that friends, and after loosing his only true friend in a a furious gun fight at his home, he escaped to Russia. It’s in Russia where he decided to finally settle down and maybe earn a legal living
A few years passed, and, at the age of 24, he was found again by the black market traders that had almost taken his life in Mongolia. Not wanting to fight anymore, he fled once again to Iraq, and lived working as a mechanic. This life was soon interrupted however, because in 1979, at the age of 35, he was attacked during the night by mysterious assassins. After fighting every single one of the 19 assassins without any weapons, he was confronted by the apparent leader of the unit, who was impressed by his actions, and invited him to join the group. He accepted, presuming acceptance of this offer was his only definite way out of the situation alive.
One year later, he was called to action during the first invasions of Iran. After leading many successful operations, the news of his actions soon reached the USA, who ordered their secret ECHELON team to find and capture him. After 27 failures by some of the best operatives in the ECHELON team, he was captured and transferred directly to Washington, and offered a job as part of a new military unit known as PYTHON. This unit enabled him access to many restricted records, and on one day in 1989, he decided to search for information about his parents. He soon discovered various organisations such as 'The Cards', but one organisation stood out - 'The Philosophers'. This organisation was labelled 'OF THE MOST HIGHLY RATED NATIONAL SECRET', and was one of the few documents he could not access.
Four months after finding and mostly forgetting this document, he was sat at his PC when suddenly, it decided to take on a mind of its own. It quickly made its way to the PYTHON servers, and then proceeded to log into a mystery account with a username of 'CARD8'. The ghost in the machine navigated its way to the 'Philosophers' document, and opened it up. After this, control of the computer was returned. Suspiciously, he read the document that was on his screen and soon found out about the many secrets of this organisation, including information about his mother, her failed organisation, 'Cobra Unit', and of his mystery brother. He saved this document, and fled from America, wanting more answers. Thankfully, he had an interest in the goings on in the underworld of the internet, and knew of the locations of some of the most famous computer wizards alive. There was one in particular, however, that had managed to evade every agency the US government could afford to throw up. Known only as 'R4K3T'(Raket), he had interfered with satellites, government agency phone lines, and once completely reversed all airplane navigation systems, so instead of flying north, all air bound craft flew south, east became west, down became up. After this incredible feat, he was named as ECHELON's number one target, but had still managed to evade every attempt to capture him. But he would be found - not by the government, or by a terrorist group, but by the war torn man who needed answers.
New Information
The year is 2000, and after 10 years of searching, the last known location of R4K3T was found. It was in London. After arriving and searching many bars, internet forums and scanning through hundreds of chat logs, he came across a single name. 'Otacon'. After acquiring the e-Mail address of this Otacon, and asking about R4K3T many times, he eventually received a single reply.
"He knows you are looking for him, and he knows you have been for some time now. He will be in contact with you on the 14th.
Otacon."
Sure enough, a knock at his hotel door rang through the bedroom at 3am, on the 14th. Rushing to the door, he found a neatly dressed man, with gelled up hair and a rather large briefcase.
"I know what you are looking for, and I know why. I've already found it, want to see?"
Hearing this made him feel excited, but nervous at the same time. Sitting R4K3r down across the large table, he proceeded to get drinks, but by the time he had returned, R4K3R had left, leaving his briefcase behind, and a 4-digit number scratched into the table. Immediately realising that this was the code into the briefcase, he slammed the drinks down and put each number into the locking mechanism. "3..1..2..2" *CLICK* the briefcase came open, and inside was all the information on the now named 'The Patriots' - undocumented in the records at PYTHON. He also learned of his mother’s death, and a detailed review of he organisation, 'Cobra Unit'. According to this document, the 'Cobra Unit' was made to unite all the people of the world. Further reading revealed information about upcoming plans by the governments of the world, including the details of a huge mecha-like robot known as 'Ray', and details of a group known as 'Philanthropy'. After much reading, All of his questions were answered, except one. His brother. Where was he? Is he even still alive?
Now he has been searching for his mystery brother, no details about him exist, and suspicions of his existence begin to show, but just before he is about to give up, he finds information that leads him to a city called 'Malton'. In this city, somewhere, is his Brother.
Malton, sweet Malton
Upon arriving at Malton, he is captured by over 200 SpecOps members from ECHELON - highly trained fighters with new genetic enhancements, causing them to be controlled by an outside entity like slaves. Looking into their deep green eyes sends a chill down your spine. It scares him s much, that he grabs a pistol off of one of the SpecOps waits, and fires it into his chest. The SpecOps, forced back by the powerful round hitting his heart, stumbles, murmurs something, then proceeds toward the gun wielder. Scared stiff, he stands there, barely moving, staring at the man who should be releasing his last breath about now. He closes his eyes for a second, then opens them to see a fist coming toward his face. The impact renders him unconscious, and what happens next is a mystery never to be solved.
The next thing he knows he is strapped to a table in a padded room. No sounds can be heard, expect from the wind causing a door to repeatedly slam somewhere in the distance.
After wriggling his way out of the straps, and finally gaining back his balance, he proceeds to the door which opens easily. "Surely they should have locked me in, right?" he thinks to himself. Looking up and down the corridor, all he can see is rubbish - old tissues, empty bags and pistol casings. Moving down the corridor, and through the nearest door, he sees a man leaning against a wall with a hand missing and dripping with blood. He rushes over to him but soon realises that this is no ordinary man. His eyes glow a dark green, as they stare straight through the wall into infinity. The green eyed... body lists one arm and swings it at the scared, barely conscious human standing in front of him. Dodging this and falling onto his back, the dazed man looks up at the zombified creature to see him lunging toward him with its mouth wide open, dripping blood. Punching the rotten face knocks it back and dazes it, but he guessing it wont last long. Getting to his feet as fast as he can and running like hell seems like the best plan, and the best plan it is, because as he looks back at the floored corpse, he sees seven other people, slumbering along the corridor to assist their fallen comrade. He turns around, hoping to speed his retreat, but finds his nose smacking straight into a door, knocking him back down. Completely dazed, and not hearing anything, he sees the zombies rushing closer and closer. His looses all the strength left, and expects the worst. "Those people.. they will get me, and I’ll be finished. My time is over. I hope you're there, waiting for me...brother"
He starts to close his eyes, but a sudden nullified BANG fills his ears, and he sees shotgun shell after shotgun shell fall in front of him in slow motion. After finally gaining the strength to lift his head, he sees all the zombies lying on the floor, shaking. Turning to his right, he sees a tall, black haired man wearing a long trench coat and a big smile standing next to him, a smoking shotgun in one hand, the other lowered down to help him up. He falls flat on his face, and the last thing he hears is laughter from the shotgun wielding man...
Keep your friends close, and stay the hell away from zombies
Looking up, four people sitting around a table are seen, not talking or moving. Just staring straight back at him. "So, you’re awake then." One of them comments. The man that killed those zombies stands up, and walks up to the bed. "Hey, my names Vishnu - yours? Ohh, never mind. That’s not important. I guess the first question you will want to ask is 'WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?', Right?" the bed bound, scruffy war veteran nods slowly, and lays his head back down as all is explained to him by the shotgun wielding Vishnu.
After hearing all there is to hear, he stands up, and gets a piece of paper out of his pocket, and asks the people around the table if they know of anyone that may resemble him. Nobody does, and so he asks for a map of the city, and locations of any safe houses he can stay at. Vishnu stands, and hands over a map, with a red dot over 'St Isidore's Hospital.' "This is where you are now. If i were you, I’d head south and get some supplies from the police station. Are you sure you wanna go alone mate?" Ignoring the question, the petrified but determined man walks out of the door, and into the hallway of the hospital. grabbing a couple of Medical Packs on the way. Upon reaching the front entrance of the hospital, groans are heard echoing over the city streets. Shaking off all fear, he walks boldly out into the open light, ready to take down anything that gets in his way.
