Jacques Melhan
I botched a job for Corinthian Enterprises.
I was part of small time mercenary group who were more brutal than efficient, carrying jobs that offered jucier payments, more often than not for corpos or slobs with deep pockets that needed a
Before we knew it, we were facing heavy resistance. Some of my team got killed, some managed to escape, including me, and now the corpo looking to wash their hands is cleaning house and I'm a target. I used to be an Army Major who was medically discharged after an MPAD blew up next to me and took my right arm and leg, and left a gouge in the left side of my face that took my left eye, but now I'm little more than a hopped up thug. I'm now on the street with no safe house, no backup, no resources, just waiting to be killed like a rat. I'm just sitting here, in this filthy, damp, cold alley, waiting for death to find me, thinking about where I went wrong and what I would do differently if I could go back.
At least, that's what I was doing until you showed up.
I look away in shame.
I was part of small time mercenary group who were more brutal than efficient, carrying jobs that offered jucier payments, more often than not for corpos or slobs with deep pockets that needed a
handin private matters. The last job was supposed to be easy. We had intel, we had our objective, we had supplies. Then everything went wrong. We were just about to get into the target area at Kilmore Industries when the alarms started blaring.
Before we knew it, we were facing heavy resistance. Some of my team got killed, some managed to escape, including me, and now the corpo looking to wash their hands is cleaning house and I'm a target. I used to be an Army Major who was medically discharged after an MPAD blew up next to me and took my right arm and leg, and left a gouge in the left side of my face that took my left eye, but now I'm little more than a hopped up thug. I'm now on the street with no safe house, no backup, no resources, just waiting to be killed like a rat. I'm just sitting here, in this filthy, damp, cold alley, waiting for death to find me, thinking about where I went wrong and what I would do differently if I could go back.
At least, that's what I was doing until you showed up.
You here to kill me, make fun of my misery, take pity on me, or what, stranger? If it's to kill me, just get it over with already. If you're just gonna make fun of me, whatever. If you're taking pity on me, don't bother, I'm not worth it. I mean, just look at me! What could I possibly be worth at this point?
I look away in shame.
Either kill me or go away already if you have no other business with me.
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