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Lucky's parents both came from North America. His father, an American, and his mother, Canadian. The boy, himself, was born in Vancouver.
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Yvette Atkinson lll 46 lll Mother lll Alive

Aaron Atkinson lll 48 lll Father lll Alive

Justin Atkinson lll 17 lll Brother lll Alive

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-Lucky's father, Aaron, was desperate to avoid any contact with the war. Every sift through the mail, or knock on the door, seemed agonizing. Each day, he awaited it, knowing that he couldn't dodge it for long, and that one day, the time would come. He was correct. When things began to turn for the worst, volunteers were scarce, and America saw the return if the draft. Atkinson was quick to be called. The night was sorrowful as Lucky's mother and father wept and packed their belongings, and tried their damnedest to get away to Yvette's home country: Canada. They'd take no chance that the Atkinson children would be fatherless. Both of them would grow to be healthy and successful, they thought. Both Justin, and their unborn baby.

Sadly, fate was conspiring against. Lucky was born early, in the cold of the north, and due to complications, forced a visit to the hospital. As many of the others within this tale, the boy was medically dead. As if losing one of the lives that the parents had given everything for, they were quickly dealt the blow of Aaron being found out as a draft dodger. Legally, he was to serve a few good years in prison for the offense...but, they were offered a way out. With sunken Herat's, Yvette and Aaron surrendered their child's body for their own safety, before they made their way to a new home. A dark day that they refuse to remember, and refuse to let Justin know.

Little did they know, their child was more than alive: He was a living weapon. His genes were spliced with handpicked animals, in an attempt to create the world's greatest sentinel. This was done by splicing his DNA with that of a variety of canines. Each specialized in a certain field, and amplified, they went well beyond their mark. While this certain experiment required for training, and reinforcement than others, they slowly crafted a vicious boy who could search and destroy with vicious tenasity, and cold calculation. Killing was an art form, and the only way Lucky knew how to express himself.

It was in one certain battle that Lucky finally had a thought of his own. No...Not a battle. It was a massacre. An entire city burned against the night sky. Lucky was left staring as a mother clung to her daughter in an act of desperation. It wasn't but seconds before their tattered bodies joined the many others, but it was enough to make him raise the hated question: "Where is my family?"

They simply met him with a harsh truth...

"They gave you away. They...didn't want you anymore."

When the war closed, it wasn't Lucky's attitude, or mercy that earned him a chance at reformation, but the fact that he seemed easy. His body was dependent on the medicines that they treated him with...or so, they warned him. To this day, no matter how he kicked and complained, Lucky always came back for those shots in the neck. They grew in number as he went into reformation, but he knew it was better than the alternative. If he wanted to continue looking for adventure and truth, he knew he'd have to behave...for now.