Birthname: Erik Leroux
Callsign: "Angel"
Height: 6'0
Weight: 120 lbs.
Eyes: Yellow
Hair: N/A
Wig: Black
Build: Emaciated
Complextion: Pale
Age: 35
Biography (Mostly OOC):
Erik Leroux was born into an Artistic Commune on Intaki IV. Most of his childhood was spent in tending the fish and kelp fields, until one day a teacher in the commune heard the boy sing. Realizing the boy's potential for music at such a young age, he was brought under the wing of his tutor.
Once exposed to the artistic world, the boy began to flourish, showing himself as an artistic prodigy. Sculpture, music, architecture, it seemed the boy could never sate his appetite for the artistic and the beautiful.
His teen years were spent in pursuit of these artistic pleasures and knowledge. He grew more every day into a fine, healthy specimen of a man. Soon the Commune decided that Erik was ready, and arranged for passage on a ship, to send him to an art school in the Federation. It was said by the surviving members of that flight that he would often hold impromptu recitals to help entertain the passengers on the long journey.
The convoy was intercepted and attacked as it neared the border of the Federation proper. Not many survived, but those that did spoke of combat suits and uniformed men, wearing no colors or ties to any organization. They spoke of ships appearing out of nowhere, the men selecting certain among the passengers, and the ships disappearing back into nothingness…
Erik was one of the taken. For days he was locked in a cell, singing to keep the spirits of the other prisoners up. When they finally reached their destination, all they saw were sterile corridors and medical bays…and the holding cells underneath.
Erik watched as those he had travelled with were taken from the cells, some returned, others did not. It finally was him alone in the cell, when they came for him.
He was taken to a medical bay, where test after test was performed on him. Time blurred, sight blurred, but when he woke up, he was in a very different medical bay. Doctors were speaking in the corner, looking very confused and distressed at him.
Then the debriefings began. He had been at the Facility for two years, was rescued and brought to the current treatment center in a comatose state. The doctors tried to explain to him what had happened, but it soon became clear that even they didn't know. the FIO agents who spoke with him would not tell him much, but he came to know that the research done at the Facility was destroyed, as was the Facility itself.
The doctors did find something though. Erik had the anomaly in his DNA to become a capsuleer. There were other strains that even looked like they were being tailored to make him better suited to space.
After the debriefing, Erik was given the test to see if his DNA was suitable to the implants and cloning tech. This was where it all went wrong. The unfinished strains mutated.
He became gaunt and emaciated, his irises became a sickly yellow. What looked like a large burn appeared on the right side of his face. Hair would not grow. The brain scan, at least, seemed secure, however.
While still under observation, it seemed that the brain scan had been twisted as well. In one of the first combat simulations using the implants, Erik began talking about himself in the third person, and seemed to take one of two views on the deaths of those he was fighting. One view was apathy, the other was almost sadistic, often commenting on the beauty of the explosions.
Not seeing this as a true problem for a capsuleer, they sent him off to the Naval Academy, where he recently graduated.