I was born in a small village. I was still a child when we were raided by soldiers, Foreign soldiers. Torn from my elders, I was made to speak their language. With each new post, my masters changed, along with the words they made me speak. With each change, I changed too. My thoughts, personality, how I saw right and wrong... War changed me - and not only my visage. Words can kill. I was invaded by words, burrowing and breeding inside me. A philosopher once said, "It is no nation we inhabit, but a language." "Make no mistake, our native tongue is our true fatherland." My fatherland - my truth was stolen from me. And so was my past. All that's left is the future. And mine is revenge. On those who'd leech off the words of their fellow man. The world calls for wetwork, and I answered. No greater good. No just cause.
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