Pre-profile statement: I have been role playing with SinfulSoul (A.K.A Sinful_Soul and Amadeus Draken) for many years. Over the years, this character has become increasingly complex and has endured many drastic changes. To explain all the major events that have happened over the course of Sinful's lifetime would take years of work and a significant portion of Eric's server space. The character spec sheet that is shown before the history is current as of 12/08/06. The history begins with a prequel that explains how SinfulSoul came to be and his initial purpose. Afterwards, I skipped ahead many years of role play to SinfulSoul's final death in which he officially lived as a Draken and discarded any ties to his human past. Many events have taken place after his death, and so the history is only current to about two years ago. Events that have occurred after that have yet to be officially recorded. I want to again firmly reiterate, Sinful began as a human being, but through years of role play has transformed into what he is today.

Given Name: Amaedus Draken
Alias(es): Sinful_Soul, SinfulSoul, Spartacus.

Age: Approximately 2079, give or take a decade or so.
Apparent Age: 21

Gender: Male
Species: Draken

Level: Class V Draken - Survivor of the great cataclysm in hell.

Origin: Rome, Italy.

Group/Belonging to: He devotes himself to Aries.

Marital Status: Technically not married.

Side/Alignment: He aligns himself accordingly with Aries.

Relationships: Currently eternally devoted to Aries Lunae.

---------------------Physical Statistics

Height: 187.96 cm / 6.17 ft
Weight: 92.988 kg / 205 lbs

Waistline: 80.01 cm / 31.5 in

Body Type: O+

---------------------Appearance.

Hair
Length: 38.1 cm / 15 in
Style: His hair falls back past his shoulders swaying across his back. The long locks are held loosely in place.
Texture: Very fine and silk-like.
Color: Mostly black with streaks of crimson red.

Eyes
Shape: Narrow ovals, slightly curved to appear slit-like.
Size: 3.81 cm / 1.5 in
Color: Most of the time reddish-black, more so to the black side. His eyes usually change with emotion.
Eyelashes: Slightly longer than usual. Some are red.

Skin
Shade: Pale white.
Scars: Numerous all across his body, coming in all shapes and sizes. Dominantly slash marks from various deep gashes he has endured from his life of combat. His left arm is especially noted for its alarming number of scars all across the bicep, fore arm, shoulder, and one that cuts all the way across the from the back of his left shoulder down to the upper back of the left hand. His face, however, is devoid of any scarred tissue.
Tattoos: None.


Clothing

Top: Black tank top tucked in, tight around his body allowing his well carved muscles to press through.
Over-top: He wears a smooth silk black cloak, able to cover his entire body and conceal his weaponry to little more than vague outlines. It also has an attached hood.

Bottoms: Black jeans.

Shoes: Black army-style boots.


Weaponry:

A curved blade with black leather sheath.
- Material: High endurance Titanium alloy melted and smoothed, then flattened, folded, and curved, then repeated several times to ensure it's high density - similar to the construction of true katanas. Extra grip is placed on the handle.
- Weight: 3.6288 kg
- Length: .97536 Meters.
-Special feature: Three prong-like protrusions at the tip of the blade.

Mark VII Desert Eagle Pistol .50 A.E.:
- Length, with 6-inch (152 mm) barrel: 10.5 inches (267 mm)
- Height: 5.9 inches (149 mm)
- Width: 1.25 inches (32 mm)
- Trigger reach: 2.75 inches (70 mm)
- Sight radius (with 6-inch barrel): 8.3 inches (210 mm)
- Magazine Capacity: 7 Rounds
- Bore diameter: .495" (12.6 mm)
- Scope: Leupold 2.5 x 8 EER, black multicoat
- Holster: Hip holster, 10" barrel, right-hand (Mark I, VII, XIX)
- Location: Holstered on right hip (Primary firing pistol).

Mark XIX Desert Eagle Pistol .357 MAGNUM.:
- Length, with 6-inch (152 mm) barrel: 10.75 inches (27.3 cm)
- Height: 6.25 inches (15.9 cm)
- Width: 1.25 inches (32 mm)
- Trigger Reach: 2.75 inches (70 mm)
- Sight Radius: 8.5 inches (215 mm)
- Magazine Capacity: 9 rounds
- Bore Diamater: .357" (9.1 mm)
- Scope: Leupold 2.5 x 8 EER, black multicoat
- Holster: Hip holster, 6" barrel, left-hand (Mark XIX only)
- Location: Holstered over left hip, under primary blade (See above for blade). (This is my secondary weapon in gun combat)

.444 Marlin (A Lone Eagle, single shot. (My dueling gun and my single long range precision shot)).
- Length: 15-1/8 inches
- Height: 5-1/2 inches
- Width: 1-3/4 inches
- Trigger Reach: 2.65 inches
- Barrel Construction: Mil spec Chrome MolyVanadium hardened to 26-32 Rockwell C. Breech & other components of heat-treated Gun Quality 4140 steel.
- Location: Holstered on the inside of his left side in a third holster, just under his left arm pit.

---------------------Abilities

The standard abilities of a class V Draken as taught to him by Aries. There is no documented information regarding the abilities of a class V Draken, as all historical texts regarding their power was lost in the great cataclysm which cut the Draken population down to a mere few. Three primary magics: Black, Blood, and Fire magic. Limited control over ice from lack of training. His soul was infused with that of a raging demon as punishment from Satan himself. He is able to keep the demon locked away in his mind using his Draken powers and additional locks provided by Aries, however during times of great emotional or physical stress, these restraints become weakened and may break. Since the demon is constantly enraged, when the restraints are broken it consumes his mind and body inducing a physical transformation into the Demon’s true self. The demon is a carnivorous beast with amplified strength, agility, and endowed with demonic energy. His insatiable hunger for blood and flesh drives his will to kill. The only documented sighting of these demons were found in the ruined Metro City. According to news broadcasts and the few surviving witnesses, Sinful and his demonic older brother named Chrost had gone out of control leading to a massacre never before seen. Over the course of a month, reports indicate the city was held hostage until Sinful turned on Chrost, and with the help of Aries, defeated him in a grand battle that displayed the kinds of control they had over demonic energy. The unfortunate result is what is seen today; the ruins of Metro City show the maximum extent of power a demonic being can possess. Though most officials deny these events ever happened since most video footage was destroyed in the battle, the few surviving eyewitnesses have written accounts of what they saw on the last day Metro City was still standing.

---------------------Mental Statistics

Concept: Silent killer.

Demeanor: A very aloof trouble-minded person who prefers the sanctuary of solitude over the company of other people. However, he is forever committed to Aries with an obvious passion. He continues to live merely on the thought that someday she may be resurrected.
Likes: He has a passion for killing just because the blood amuses him along with their suffering. His mind has become very unstable through the events he has endured and has convinced himself that others around him should suffer like he does. The thrill of a fight also gives him an adrenaline high. Between his killing sprees, he likes to take the time to enjoy nature in which his more calm side emerges.
Dislikes: He absolutely hates humans, and is prejudice against other species considering all species other than Drakens inferior - This belief giving him a hint of arrogance. He considers humans the scum at the bottom of the trash. He's not very fond of cigarettes, however has grown used to them with Aries. Most of all, he absolutely hates losing.

Personality: Amaedus has a very chaotic mind hidden behind his external, elegant, Draken, appearance. Within the depths of his mind is a chaotic demon who rages for freedom, held only in check by his Draken powers with aid from Aries' control. He feels an undying loyalty to Aries, the only significant person he feels he could not live without during his existence. It's because of his dislike of other species of beings that he chooses to remain reserved, except when interested with the prospect of combat. Over the years, interaction with other humans has softened his prejudice and reminded him of his past when he was once human. He still looks upon humans with disgust, like it was some cruel joke for them to exist, but the compassion and friendship he has experienced with people like Faith, Mia, and Andrew has revealed a new perspective on them.

Historical Synopsis: Part one. "Prequel to Chaos"

Sinful_Soul
Sinful_Soul.. A cloaked mysterious character who believes in the speak less hear more philosophy. His past is riddled with uncertainties and sins. So let’s start from the beginning. In 73 BC stood a gladiator by the name of Spartacus, enslaved by the Roman Empire as a prisoner of war. He fought valiantly in the coliseum many times, but grew weary of the battles as he knew that eventually his death would come. One night he organized a group of slaves like him to rebel. He broke free with 80 followers and headed to Caldera where he eventually assembled an army of 70,000 escaped slaves. Spartacus led this army north to find freedom, but was bombarded by Roman legions. The rebel army managed to defeat these waves of legions coming two at a time. Four waves of two legions each were defeated before they reached the Gaul river. On the other side marked their freedom in France, but they were halted as 8 legions surrounded the war tired rebel army. The army had to retreat to Calabria to stay alive, but now they were isolated. In a brave and courageous battle that took everything that Spartacus and his army had left, he managed to break through the lines and head back North. Unknown to Spartacus was that more Legions under the rule of Pompey were waiting for him and Spartacus was once again outnumbered greatly. What followed was no less than a massacre ordered by the enraged Pompey, and though Spartacus and his army dealt heavy casualties to the legions, the rebels fell including Spartacus. Unfortunately no form of bravery, no form of courage, and no form of reason explains the killings of mass numbers of people on the battlefield in the eyes above. His reward for his bravery was endless pain. Spartacus was sent to the depths of hell to be punished for an eternity and stripped of his name. What he endured for the next 2000 long years was a pain and suffering that no man could possibly recreate. He suffered through thousands of deaths, only to find himself alive the next day. His limbs would be mutilated; his eyes drenched in acid, his skin peeled off, and his heart wrenched out of him on a daily basis. The pain is magnified when your once fighting spirit is broken, when you can't fight back and when you don't have the ability to end it all.

After going through the pain for over 2000 years, the God of the Underworld himself came to what used to be the body of Spartacus. With an evil grin, the fallen angel offered Spartacus a choice. The devil had heard of God's Right Hand, and thought he would have some sport developing his own messenger to aid his schemes in wreaking havoc on the Earth. The Devils offer was simple. Either return to Earth and serve under him as the Devils Right Hand doing his bidding or continue the punishment for what may be an eternity. The answer seemed obvious, and he chose to return to Earth. Anything to free him from the pain. The God of the Underworld always has his tricks, and little did Spartacus know of the fine print behind the offer. Spartacus was released from his binds, where he instantly fell to the ground drained of any possible energy. As he lay on the ground, his soul was sucked into the right palm of the Devils hand. His soul was forever banished from the after life. Now were he to die, he would be sent to an endless void to spend the rest of eternity in solitude traveling endlessly in a black void as an unknown lost soul. The Devil balled the soul in his palm as he formed a void with his other hand. He threw the ball into the void, sending him not into the endless black suffering but instead back to Earth into the body of a Unit. Units were biological recreations of humans still under the test phase in military research for the U.S. They are being designed to replace real human soldiers with programmable super soldiers. These Units are built from cloned cells, and constructed tediously cell by cell through a massive system of machinery. Most of the cells are made by cell division allowing them to replicate and further develop as a normal baby would. Instead of building babies, they build full size humans.

As the brain develops, the "Manufacturing Plant" sends each Unit to have pre-constructed brain cells implanted into their brains which allow each unit to have the basic knowledge needed for combat training, vocal skills, motor skills, language skills, and the ability to comprehend. These skills would be further honed through experience. Hormones develop during the construction process, and the Unit goes through puberty during the building process as the brain inside the being believes the body is older than it really is. This helps aid in development of the being's cells and growth. The Units were easy to control as the confused minds of the Units were quickly brainwashed into believing their sole purpose of existence was to serve the country loyally after being awakened. A total of 19 Units have been produced, the previous 18 were failures as the previous designs didn't have logic, and when left to use weapons for combat tests, they ended up fatally wounding themselves instead of the target. Those who survived the first test soon died as the cells degenerated within their body for an unknown reason. It seemed that no human could give the gift of life. This is where Spartacus gains the upper hand. He may have lost his body, but he still has his mind. Spartacus assumes control of this artificial human and with a bit of aid from the Demons below, the body functions. Before the body is awakened, the Unit is branded with a label on his back stating "S_S". The first S standing for the Unit series he is, being the 19th Unit and thus he received the corresponding 19th letter in the alphabet. The second S represents the purpose this Unit was intended to serve. He was going to receive training to spy on other countries as the threat of nuclear war began to heavily spread in the world. Coincidentally the two S's also represent the initials to the name the Devil had given to his latest creation. Spartacus no longer existed, his new name was to be Sinful_Soul as he is never allowed to have a real name again. To the people of the factory, he is Unit 19, S_S and nothing more than a test subject. As he awakened, he was rolled out on a bed to begin the brainwashing procedure immediately and implant a fabricated view on life for him to believe. During this procedure, it became very obvious what the first curse of having his freedom was. Each time a scientist within the lab nodded, he would nod spasmodically even if he could not see it -- even during the brainwashing procedure. His nodding during the procedure had caused some parts of the fabricated view on life to be altered. He was originally supposed to kill for the USA and obey whatever commands he received from the various military divisions. Instead, it was coincidentally replaced with obeying the Devil only. He was also able to retain his memory from his past life. The scientists and technicians however were not aware of this until it was too late.

Once the brainwashing procedure was complete, he was sent immediately to weapons training. They had no reason to believe he was any different, as the procedure had always worked on previous units. There he was to receive his first test on hand guns. All Spies were to equip at least one hand gun on their mission. The standard was a 9mm with two extra magazines. He was sent to a firing range where he was ordered to begin practice on his aim. He obeyed willfully not because he was ordered to, but because this was the first time he had used a handgun. The surroundings were much different from what he was used to back in 73BC. The mechanism seemed simple enough, and the weapon training that was implanted in his brain made everything make sense on how to operate the weapon. He fired the weapon towards the target at the other end of the range, getting used to the live ammunition. It was at this point that he realized what he was wearing. It seemed like a one piece cotton jump suit, which was even more unusual from what he was used to. After completely unloading the clip, he recalled on how to eject the clip and reload. Needless to say, he was shocked at how the weapon operated and after looking at the various scattered holes on the human shaped target in front of him, realized the potential it had.

Now that he had become accustomed to the weapon, he looked around the area shifting only his eyes as he reloaded the weapon. He counted 12 guards, and at least 20 scientists observing him. He raised the gun acting as if he were going to fire at the target once again. He knew he had to escape; being housed like some animal was not going to allow him to keep his freedom. He has to continue to please the Devil with his ways or else suffer consequences far greater than he had before. His eyes instantly shifted towards one of the 12 guards closest to him by the doorway holding an automatic rifle in his hands. He quickly sized him up and shifted the aim of the gun towards him, firing a single shot into his chest though he had aimed for the head. Despite his poor aim, he still managed to instantly kill the guard; they must have been on a tight budget, they wore no body armor. As the rest of the room became alerted by this unusual disturbance, he used it to his advantage. He grabbed the clip and headed towards the doorway, this being the only structure in the room that seemed familiar to him. The guards trailed him with automatic weapon fire, but the doorway was close enough for him to slip through without injury. He ran down the halls carrying the clip in his left hand and the gun in his right. Since the building was designed to have a floor plan similar to that of a regular manufacturing plant, it was easy to move around the halls quickly. The language seemed new to him even though he had already been implanted with language skills. The terms "Exit" painted on the walls took a bit of time for him to comprehend the meaning before he began following the arrows. To his dismay, he found guards beginning to come up behind him and from in front. As they approached from both sides they raised their weapons. Knowing that he would surely die if he stayed still, he ran down into another hallway nearby going in a different direction. Gunfire opened behind him, but quickly ceased after hearing the yell of a few guards getting caught in the stray fire. He looked back to see the guards beginning to funnel into the hallway he was running down, and as he turned his head forward he came upon a large wooden crate. He then suddenly noticed the two guards in front of him who were lifting the crate. He found himself in front of a small storage area used to house extra small arms. He knew this because the door was unlocked and they were preparing to load the crate into the room. He glimpsed into the room seeing the weapons but quickly turning his attention back towards the guards in front of him. Apparently the facility alarm system wasn’t functioning properly, probably due to a low budget and a hand from the Pandemonium himself, and the two guards lifting the crate were left dumbfounded, unaware of the situation. When they saw the guards chasing after Sinful, they dropped the crate and made an attempt to restrain him. The guards behind him began to draw nearer. Sinful spun around the closest guard to him using the guard to block any direct aim. The guards running down the hall dare not shoot for fear of hitting more of their own. Simultaneously, Sinful raised the gun towards the second guard and fired a shot randomly placed in the direction of his chest at close range.

By now, everything was strictly an act of desperation. Evasive tactics from the spy trainings implanted into his brain rushed through his mind providing possibilities of escape. Sinful wrapped his left arm around the guard’s neck and placed the gun to his head. Knowing the other guards would never risk shooting at a real human, they came to a stop. Sinful then moved towards the opened door of the storage area and placed himself barely inside, though keeping the guard he had hostage out in front in plain sight of the other guards. To prevent the guard from moving, he placed the 9mm gun to the back of his head. The guards in the hallway slowly moved forward while Sinful rummaged through the small arms within reach of his left hand. Within a box he was lucky enough to find two grenades in his reach. It was the Devil’s luck for sure. At first he looked at them oddly unsure of what they are, but then recalled through his implanted weapons training knowledge on how to use them. Also within another box next to the box with grenades, he found two .50 Desert Eagles, complete with a magazine already loaded. These being the only two boxes he could reach without moving his gun away from the guards head, he seized one of the grenades, bit on the pin to pull it off, and then swung his left arm around the door in the direction of the guards. As the explosion occurs, he fired a bullet into the head of the guard in front of him, allowing him to fall to the ground. He then craned his arm around the corner of the doorway to his left in the opposite direction of where he threw the grenade and fired off several random shots to unload the clip. He quickly pulled his hand back in the doorway as gunfire rang off, pounding on the open door. Using this as an indication of more guards coming from down that hall, he pulled the remaining grenade out from the box, pulled the pin, and swung the grenade around the doorway. As the second explosion occurred, he dropped the 9mm gun and magazine to retrieve both .50 Desert Eagles from the box. He pulled his head around the corner, seeing the fallen bodies of the guards to his left. He then dashed down the hall, once again following the arrows that the exit signs pointed in. After a short run, he came upon a green door that said push and had a push handle along the middle. He remembered how the previous door functioned at the storage area and assumed the door would swing the same way. So he pushed on the door instinctively on the push handle forcing the door open.

This revealed for the first time the outside dark winter weather. Unfortunately for him, he realized he was on top of a structure and not on the ground level; what he failed to realize was what kind of exit that door led to. He walked out into the snow, barely able to see his way through the dim moonlight. There was a full moon out, but clouds conveniently blocked the moon’s rays. It wasn't until then did he realize he was not wearing any shoes, and it became painfully obvious when his feet began to feel numb in the snow. As he moved forward finally able to see over the edge of the building, he noticed how high he really was. The snow covered a giant H in a circle on the roof. Another rush of thoughts implanted into his mind came over him and soon he realized he was on a Helipad. He was able to see large lights down on the ground, highlighting the 8 foot high concrete walls and barbed wire surrounding the parameter of the building he was on. He noticed two guard towers beside a large gate, and at the time seeing a truck enter through the gates. He stared in a bit of awe, thinking of the vehicle as some strange new beast. Another wave of thoughts explained their purpose and basic design. He quickly turned his attention back to the gate, seeing it close behind the truck. He also noted the various guards in the area. He peered over the edge looking straight over the ground and building underneath him. Startled a bit as sirens finally began blaring from within the compound, he rolled over the edge hanging onto the rim of the roof by his fingers still holding the guns in between his thumb and index fingers. So it seemed they did have an alarm system. It was the Devil’s luck for sure that he managed to get this far. He struggled a bit as the siren continued to blare, starting to panic as he is unsure of what to do. The lights began moving across the ground and along the building walls, startling him even more. His mind was overflowing with information, one part explaining what each thing around him is, another part of his mind telling him what possibilities for escape were available to him. He looked to his right, seeing a water drain pipe but regarding it as some kind of emergency pole to help him down the wall. He slowly inched to the right sliding his fingers across the cold edge of the roof before finally making it to the drain pipe. He first placed his feet down on the pipe getting a good grip, and then shifted his hands carefully one by one onto the pipe. He slid down the pipe slowly, trying to keep control of how fast he descended. He hit a slippery section of the pipe sending him sliding towards the ground at an accelerated rate. He gripped his hands tightly around the pipe letting go of his Desert Eagles since they seemed to be of less importance now. He finally gained a grip on the pipe and slowed his decent. He landed on the ground with a thud before he fell over onto the ground. He slowly raised himself into an upright sitting position shaking his head before grabbing the Desert Eagles that had fallen on the ground by his sides. He stood back onto his feet and stayed close to the wall of the building, looking around for other exits.

As he looked, he heard the sound of a truck's engine similar to the sound he had heard before from the "beast" that entered through the gates. He slowly peered around the corner of the wall, realizing he was standing right next to a small garage that held several transport trucks. He noticed the truck closest to him suddenly turned on its lights. He then heard the truck grow closer as it pulled out of the garage. To his dismay, the truck turned the corner sliding right by him. He stood frozen in the shadows of the wall expecting to be eaten alive, but as the truck passed he saw a human inside. He ducked instinctively to avoid being seeing and stared at the back of the truck. He then noticed the back of the truck had an opening on it with a tar mat cover and pondered for a moment as he saw the truck headed towards the gate. In an instant he dashed towards the truck before it moved too far, able to catch up behind it. He leaped onto the back bumper of the truck and bounded over the rear tail gate through the opening between the tar mat and the tail gate. Since he didn’t have shoes, he was able to land on the pads of his feet creating almost no noise. His spy training had taught him how to transfer energy to the ground over a period of time instead of all at once which reduced noise. He had plunged himself into the back of the truck just as a spotlight shined over the truck for a brief moment. He peered his head out from just above the back gate of the truck watching as the building began to grow distant. He noticed as lights shined on the roof he was once on and seeing a group of guards searching around. He knew he would have been caught soon if he didn't get out of the area when did. He saw some of the guards look over the edge of the building and shining a light on the drain pipe.

While he stared up at the roof, he noticed the truck had come to a sudden stop. He heard voices outside from guards asking about where the truck was going and for papers listing the driver's orders. Since the sirens had gone off, they were not allowing anyone to leave. Due to a lack of communication and excessive secrecy, the guard at the door had no idea there was an escaped Unit. Sinful listened as he heard the driver say he had direct orders from General McArthur to deliver the remains of Units 1-18 for further examination at the base down in DC. He heard footsteps of a guard come around the back of the truck and shine a light into the cargo area. He pressed his back up against the back gate, just inches away from the guard. He knew they would try to search further into the truck rather than right along the tail gate. While the light shined around the various cases of cargo, he noticed that each one was labeled with the Unit number they contained. The one thing that puzzled him was that their sizes varied significantly, some cases as large as 8x4x4, others as small one foot boxes. The light stopped just in front of him before the guard walked back around to the front. After reviewing the official order from the General, he gave the driver the OK with a nod. It was the Devil’s luck indeed that he had gotten this far. Sinful nodded spasmodically for a brief moment as the guard nodded. He stared into the blackness of the cargo bay a bit dumbfounded wondering why he just nodded. Sinful heard the gates open and the truck drive off through the gates. After remaining frozen where he was in fear, he finally gathered the courage to move. He peered one eye over the edge of the gate seeing the building moving off in the distance. He noticed several more check points similar to the first one, but they opened the gates without stopping the truck. Soon they were driving through a winding two lane road that was filled with snow. It seemed no one bothered to maintain the road here.

He rolled over onto his stomach with a sigh of relief which was quickly interrupted as he felt a strong and acute burning sensation on the back of his neck. He growled in pain as he turned over to see what was causing it, only to see the darkness of the roof above him. He reached back onto his neck, feeling the flesh on the back of his neck burning and singing his fingers. The second curse had revealed itself, though he didn't know it yet. The burning continued down his back, going left to right in what seemed like a curving fashion starting from his left shoulder and slowly, painfully, making its way across to the right shoulder. This continued for about 15 minutes before finally stopping, feeling three squiggled lines on the back of his neck and two lines across his upper back just above the branded S_S, all of which feeling as though they were on fire. He then noticed smoke rising from his back, then realized the back of the one piece black cotton clothing he wore was on fire. He clenched his guns in his fingers as he rolled over the back gate of the truck. He fell onto the snow filled road, back facing the ground. The snow singed around him putting the fire out instantly, but still not alleviating the pain of the burning inscriptions on his back. After a few moments, the pain had finally subsided, and he lifted himself into a sitting position. Slightly confused, he raised himself onto his feet and stared up towards the full moon, then down at the snow where his back laid. To his surprise he saw in bright red still heated letters on the exposed pavement of the road. He read the letters quickly as the glow started to dim. He soon realized the words formed were names of people. He wasn't able to finish reading all the names, but he concluded the same names must have burned into the flesh of his back. He let out another sigh, believing this to be the work of the devil again. He was well aware freedom would cost him greatly. He slowly walked off the road clenching each gun firmly in his hands, towards the shadows of the sides using trees and brush to conceal his body. He quickly regretted rolling out of the truck as his feet grew numb with cold once again from the snow. Still holding the Desert Eagles in his hands, clenched tightly as he shivers, he treads towards the lights he sees of the city in the distance. After treading through the snow for several more painful minutes, he comes up towards the edge of a cliff overlooking the city, giving a dramatic view. He stared at one of the larger signs on the road leading into the city stating "Welcome to Metro City."

Historical Synopsis: Part three. "Chaotic Mind"

Five years later, his body has aged to where he would look as if he were 21, though he has only been alive for 5 years under this new body. A Unit reaches peak physical performance at age 21 and is designed to retain that physical age for the duration of the Unit’s life. Little does anyone know his true age of 2077 years. He has committed several heinous murders, assassinations, and massacres as payment for his freedom. The list of the names of the people he has killed growing ever widely around his back and engraving themselves in a circle around the S_S still branded along his back. They've covered front of his chest and are beginning to form bands around his arms, each life taken burned into his flesh as a painful memory. Each name marking an unforgivable sin, the same sins he carried as a warrior. He sometimes wishes he could go back to suffering through the eternity of pain he had before. He enjoys the thrill of battle, but killing innocent people sometimes on an hourly basis has had an extreme psychological impact on him. He regrets every kill and the Fiend in hell enjoys watching him suffer in regret. He's spilled more blood than one person can handle, and as a result during a particularly stressful situation he goes into a bloodthirsty rage. Killing has become an addiction, and a part of his mind craves for it while the other tries to keep it in check. When it breaks free, it consumes his mind and body that is never satisfied until he takes the lives of many innocents. It took him many years to understand it, but the final curse had revealed itself. He had discovered that a demon spawn was infused with his soul, growing more and more dominant with each kill. It was inevitable that some day it would consume him. He conceals his body in a cloak to cover the names and conceal his weapons. He still carries the two .50 Desert Eagles he took from the compound. He has become more accustomed to living in this new world after familiarizing himself with the new technology. He has suffered through so much that he fears very little. The only thing he fears is his death, for he knows death will lead to suffering even worse than what he has gone through before. To help ease his troubled mind, he often turns to nature feeling soothed and calm when around plants and small animals. The sounds of a waterfall and the ever active forests are the few things he has found that he can take solace in. Sinful_Soul spends his life regrettably existing as the Right Hand of Satan without hope of salvation.

Historical Synopsis: Part five: "The Calm After the Storm"

"Look papa! A shooting star!" A young boy, staring out the kitchen window at the night sky waiting for dinner pointed towards a streak of light across the starlit sky. "Make a wish, son. Make it pure from the heart and it will come true." The boy closed his eyes and prayed as hard as he could. He wished for what only the most innocent could hope for. He wished for war to end, and peace to rule once again with a grip so firm no evil could shake its might.

What he wished upon was no shooting star. It was the last moments of life for one nameless soldier. The soldier sat calm, nearly motionless in a cockpit chair as he evaluated his situation. Drops of blood hit the armrest on the chair at a steady beat from various minor cuts. The mobile suit he was in had been mauled heavily, and pieces of metal began breaking away from the suit as it flew through the atmosphere. Most of his controls had been knocked out, or were in the process of being destroyed by the massive heat. He had lost all use of his verniers, and the only responding system was a shaky visual feed from what remained of the mobile suit's head. His body resisted movement to try any further, his fate appeared to be sealed. The ground which he fought so hard to free in the past was about to hit him head on. As he was staring at the visual feed, the head of the suit finally could hold on no longer. The large chunk of metal broke apart and dissipated into the air behind him. At the same time, the locks that held the wings on his left side had broken off allowing the left wing to spread slightly. This caused a larger amount of wind resistance on the left side causing the mobile suit to go into an uncontrollable spiral. The soldier attempted to fire off an adjustment vernier, but to no avail. He let out a heavy hearted sigh and grudgingly shut down the already overstressed core of his machine to prevent it from exploding. Beginning to feel dizzy, he rested back in the seat once again, allowing his arms to fall limp. "It doesn't matter now... It'll all be over soon" he said to himself.

Just as the words were spoken, what remained of the spiraling mobile suit crashed into the ground at a 45 degree angle. This sent the metal center of the suit - which was all that was left after the impact - rolling across the ground, followed by a brief skid across the Gaul River until it came to a crashing halt on the opposite bank. The soldier was ripped from the restraints holding him into his seat and sent crashing into the heavily weakened cockpit door. The door burst open in mid roll and sent him flying into the air. He then slammed into the ground on the opposite bank, miraculously saved from being crushed by the rolling gundam which landed a few meters away from him. He had suffered a concussion and multiple shattered bones all along his body from this impact. Movement in his battered condition was not an option. Though it was difficult to see, he was able to grasp his surroundings. He could smell lush forests around him, feel the winds blowing from the river, and hear the water flowing behind him. His conscious mind hung on for life, though he didn't think about death or pain. That only seemed distant to him. His body had gone numb, most likely paralyzed from multiple cuts in the spinal cord. The area seemed vaguely familiar to him, but he couldn't quite place where he had seen it before. He let it go and closed his eyes waiting for the end. He thought about his old friends, the fights and companionship with Andy and Master. He even smiled at memories with Soldier_Rain and all the experiences he'd had with him. He never did get a chance to apologize for the damage he did to his space transport ship. The training with Donny flashed through his memory, and he knew the world would be stable under the ever-growing strength and skill Donny had been acquiring. His thoughts remained mere reflections of his past and people who managed to gain his trust. He thought about his grudging care for his brother, Sinless and his tough love for little, troublesome Faith. Oh, how he missed her. He even thought of poor Mia and worried of her safety following his inevitable demise. Soon his thoughts drifted to his biggest heartbreak, the loss of his beloved Aries right before his eyes. She had been the only one to show him true love, even if it was controlled at first, it lasted beyond her grip and turned pure. He took solace in believing he would finally get to see her again. He could already smell the fresh scent of her French red roses. At that moment it struck him. French roses! He was in the Gaul, otherwise known as Eastern France. Italy lay behind him across the river. He had finally made it across the river from Italy, his only path to freedom from slavery all those years ago in Italy. Suddenly, Satan haunted his mind again, eager to punish another rebellious slave. With his last bit of energy, the dying soldier smirked and uttered, “Freedom." His body exhaled hoarsely as multiple organ failure sent his body into one sudden, tense convulsion before relaxing. The body would then forever lie still on the river bank in his land of freedom. He died next to his nameless gundam fully clad in his assortment of weapons - his most reliable of all friends. His death was long expected and the will was sealed in the possession of Sinless, who he knew would be the first to know of his death. Unknown soldiers don't have funerals, the world is his grave.

The wind blew violently for a brief moment, ripping the loosely held silk cloak from the corpse. This revealed a tattered black tank top that had fallen when the shoulder straps had been cut. On his bare back, the letters S_S that had long been burned into his flesh slowly faded and replaced by a new name still glowing red from the seared flesh that read: Spartacus.

Zeus, God of all Gods sheds a blind eye to those who suffer for sins, as he did. However, those who are forced to commit the sins against their will do not perform sacrilege. It was then that the Almighty made his Deus Ex Machina, finally protecting Spartacus being used as a tool for evil. Unfortunately, ascension to heaven was still too good for one who willingly committed mass murder, and thus his fate was sealed, but with some relief. He was sent to share the burden of mild discipline with his beloved Aries in their mansion in hell without the dictatorship from the mask of Hades, where they had already grown accustomed - A fate he would later agree was better than heaven.

The will was crudely written in haste on an aged piece of paper, and reads as the following:
"My mobile suit and my mech hanger go to Soldier_Rain, I know he'll appreciate all the spare parts and weapons.
All my other worldly possessions go to Donny to distribute as he sees fit.
I ask that I be left with my dual .50 Caliber Desert Eagles and my blade, I'm sure they'll be by my side in death."