Drakomis
Member
- Location
- United States, State of Georgia
My father was born sometime during the fifties, serving in the Armed Forces against the Soviets as the US and the USSR had proxy wars across the globe. I entered the world in the eighties, right around the time the USSR and the US had a major international conflict; a conflict I believe which took place on Altia, if I am correct. Growing up I sought to emulate my father, went to school, did everything I could to achieve what I thought would make him proud. The moral institutions of the country began to change in the late 90's, with the economic and social problems happening in the early 2000's. During this time I did my fare share of hauling good cross country, one of my first jobs before I gained my fully authorized Commercial Drivers License to drive the bigger rigs. It was a pleasant six years seeing the continental United States, but like all things situations change. Along with the growing issues in the world between the Russians and us, I decided to join the Armed Forces like my father. He was proud either way of my choices.
I make it back after boot camp for him to see me graduate, a nice send off for him from the world as I was blessed to be there with him as he died naturally. The military instantly placed me in a reservist role, I seeing action only in logistical roles such as hauling fuel and whatnot. Eventually after four years giving me an honorable discharge following budget cuts with the excuse that I was "the last of the line", but I left with pride knowing I did my job. I talked with a few veterans about my experiences, how I got forced from the front and whatnot. Eventually I found a man who owned a private military company offering me a chance for just that. Just like that he hired me on for Middle East operations, my chance for front line work right in my sights. I spent a good four years doing that, making the big bucks, but also seeing the worst of the worst in humanity.
I returned home to a changed country. My brothers in arms and I had talked many nights of starting families, but I never realized just how horrible a prospect that could be in a changed society. When I reintegrated back into society - a good six months I'd assume - I realized this wasn't the type of society I'd like to raise a family. I'd never be able to foster traditional values there anymore, so I began searching for alternatives. Eventually the same man who hired me for his company became an opportunity again, he sending me information for an island called "Altis". Like I mentioned earlier, it kicked off memories that there might of been a conflict here my pops was a part of. My prior boss informed me of the hardships, of the near-lawlessness of the island, but that it was under the jurisdiction of the United Kingdom. He said I'd probably enjoy the challenge.
After trying - and failing - to hire me back on for his company (he mentioned some unusually fine prospects in the Pan-Asia region), I bought a ticket to Altis. I arrived at the airport after having sold all my belongings or given them away just to start a new life, having some interesting prospects in mind, then went on my way. One of the jobs that the Customs Office there told me about was parcel deliveries. I did that for a bit, running around the island (literally) delivering parcels until I could afford a truck of my own. It became profitable and I forgot in short order the warning of my ex-boss and friend; the island is practically lawless. I found that out the hard way around drop-point 23. Got everything stolen, having to run across the island back to the airport. I remember spending the night there, sleeping on the cold ground as I thought about my misfortunes.
Little did I know that it wouldn't be till the following morning I'd meet a nice band of misfits calling themselves the "Copper Kings". They helped me for sure, along with the local police that was there that day. I got back on my feet thanks to them, getting myself into the ACAR and doing mechanic work, now running oil runs in straight-shaft trucks. I've met a lot of nice folks in my time here, folks like the Copper Kings.
I make it back after boot camp for him to see me graduate, a nice send off for him from the world as I was blessed to be there with him as he died naturally. The military instantly placed me in a reservist role, I seeing action only in logistical roles such as hauling fuel and whatnot. Eventually after four years giving me an honorable discharge following budget cuts with the excuse that I was "the last of the line", but I left with pride knowing I did my job. I talked with a few veterans about my experiences, how I got forced from the front and whatnot. Eventually I found a man who owned a private military company offering me a chance for just that. Just like that he hired me on for Middle East operations, my chance for front line work right in my sights. I spent a good four years doing that, making the big bucks, but also seeing the worst of the worst in humanity.
I returned home to a changed country. My brothers in arms and I had talked many nights of starting families, but I never realized just how horrible a prospect that could be in a changed society. When I reintegrated back into society - a good six months I'd assume - I realized this wasn't the type of society I'd like to raise a family. I'd never be able to foster traditional values there anymore, so I began searching for alternatives. Eventually the same man who hired me for his company became an opportunity again, he sending me information for an island called "Altis". Like I mentioned earlier, it kicked off memories that there might of been a conflict here my pops was a part of. My prior boss informed me of the hardships, of the near-lawlessness of the island, but that it was under the jurisdiction of the United Kingdom. He said I'd probably enjoy the challenge.
After trying - and failing - to hire me back on for his company (he mentioned some unusually fine prospects in the Pan-Asia region), I bought a ticket to Altis. I arrived at the airport after having sold all my belongings or given them away just to start a new life, having some interesting prospects in mind, then went on my way. One of the jobs that the Customs Office there told me about was parcel deliveries. I did that for a bit, running around the island (literally) delivering parcels until I could afford a truck of my own. It became profitable and I forgot in short order the warning of my ex-boss and friend; the island is practically lawless. I found that out the hard way around drop-point 23. Got everything stolen, having to run across the island back to the airport. I remember spending the night there, sleeping on the cold ground as I thought about my misfortunes.
Little did I know that it wouldn't be till the following morning I'd meet a nice band of misfits calling themselves the "Copper Kings". They helped me for sure, along with the local police that was there that day. I got back on my feet thanks to them, getting myself into the ACAR and doing mechanic work, now running oil runs in straight-shaft trucks. I've met a lot of nice folks in my time here, folks like the Copper Kings.
