[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/ygBM6B6.jpg[/img][/center] [b][u]Name:[/u][/b] [indent]Nicola Miles Sturgis[/indent] [b][u]Age:[/u][/b] [indent]17[/indent] [b][u]Place of Birth:[/u][/b] [indent]Seele, from where one would have seen a small speck in the distance where city of Sonnehall lies on the horizon[/indent] [b][u]Division:[/u][/b] [indent]Vulkan[/indent] [b][u]Background Check:[/u][/b] [indent] Nicola was only nine when a fateful morning started with a paltry sprinkle of rainfall, a light veil of moisture as miniature clouds formed overhead. Hardly anything to remember or even pay notice to. The teasing laugh of his father and the reassurance of his mother dissuaded any doubt in his young mind that there was anything to worry about before they left their home to restock for the winter. Only small beasts slightly bigger than his childish self had shown up in the city that day, and the people could only scoff as the unthreatening Regentier were chased off or subjugated with ease. A man who'd been leading the local militia, wearing an SNDP logo with pride, tipped his hat as Nicola and his father passed by. No one had been prepared for the sudden explosion that rocked through the city's foundations, the screams of his neighbors reaching Miles just before a blinding light consumed both the smiling man and a chunk of their city block, a roar of power and the sounds of destruction filling his ears. Unable to see nor hear within the cacophony, all the young boy could sense was his father clutching him tightly until it finally died down. When the dust settled and Nicola's eyes adjusted to his surroundings, a sea of devastation awaited him where there was once recognizable landmarks. The auntie's diner, his uncle's barber shop, the nice grandma's bakery, all glassed by the superheated blast and reduced to rubble. His father, covered in cement shrapnel from the aftermath, whispered for him to run away as bloody fingers slipped from around his arms down to the pavement. Nicola's memories after that moment are hazy. He didn't remember if he had ran as his father had instructed, or if he had frozen in fear, or even if he'd reached into his father's coat for the blaster he always carried. He could only remember what happened afterwards, embraced by his mother while amongst the rest of the refugees of Seele as a cleanup crew from the SNDP explained the circumstances of the incident. An unidentified assailant had infiltrated the city, causing untold amount of damage to the city that may take several years or even decades to recover from. He remembered that his mother had questioned what had caused the destruction, and where it went. He remembered their hesitation in responding, the looks the agents gave each other as they were unable to disclose such information to civilians. [/indent] [b][u]Graft / Weapon Specialty:[/u][/b] [indent]Heavy Firearms/ Utility[/indent]