Personality:

Percenter was a 23-year-old soldier with a strong sense of discipline and responsibility. From a young age, he had always been the kind of person who followed instructions carefully and made sure every task he was given was completed perfectly. His teachers admired his focus, and his friends trusted him to always do the right thing.

Despite his serious side, Percenter was outgoing and had a warm, approachable personality. He had a way of making people feel comfortable around him, and he was the kind of friend you could rely on no matter what. Above all, he was incredibly protective of the people he cared about. Whether it was his family, his friends, or even his fellow soldiers, Percenter would go out of his way to make sure they were safe and looked after. Caring deeply for others wasn’t just something he did—it was who he was at his core.

The moment it all went wrong:

Percenter, a disciplined and battle-hardened soldier, stood guard at the border of Louisville, his posture rigid and eyes sharp as steel. His assignment was clear: patrol the gate and ensure no one crossed under any circumstances. Orders were strict, even violence was authorized if necessary. The day unfolded like any other, the air heavy with an unnatural stillness. Percenter exchanged banter with his fellow guards, their voices carrying a false sense of calm over the quiet hum of the morning. Then, without warning, the unthinkable happened—a nightmare shattering the calm like glass under a hammer.

His trauma:

Cars rumbled toward the border, their engines breaking the uneasy silence. Percenter quickly set his coffee down, heart pounding as he grabbed his rifle and strode hastily toward the gate. His voice rang out, firm and commanding. “THIS AREA IS OFF LIMITS!” he shouted at the people spilling out of their vehicles. A desperate voice rose from the crowd. “Please, sir, there are monsters back there! We can’t go back!” Percenter’s grip on his rifle tightened, but his tone stayed steady. “I’m sorry, but you are not allowed to cross this point.” From somewhere in the throng, another voice lashed out. “YOU CAN’T JUST LEAVE US! Where is your humanity?” The tension rose like a tidal wave, but Percenter didn’t waver. Raising his M16, he fired a warning shot into the air. “EVERYONE NEEDS TO LEAVE THIS POINT NOW. FINAL WARNING!” A man stepped forward, defiance etched into his face. “What are you going to do, shoot us?” Percenter leveled his rifle at the man, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Please, just go. I’m sorry, but you have to leave.” The man froze, his eyes flicking between Percenter and the crowd behind him. Then, with a sudden burst of movement, he charged toward the border. Others followed, emboldened by his act of rebellion. “STAY BACK!” Percenter shouted, his voice cracking with desperation. But the crowd surged forward, deaf to his warnings. His heart raced, his mind spinning as his finger hovered on the trigger. And then—BANG. The shot echoed like a thunderclap. Percenter opened his eyes to a horrifying sight: the man lay bleeding on the ground, life slipping away as the crowd fell silent in shock. For a brief, agonizing moment, the world stood still. Then chaos erupted. Screams filled the air as people rushed the guards, clawing at their rifles in sheer panic. Percenter stumbled back, retreating to the gate. He managed to slam it shut, but in doing so, two of his teammates were trapped outside. He could only watch in horror as they were overwhelmed, their screams swallowed by the chaos. Gunfire erupted like a violent storm, and in the blink of an eye, the border became a battlefield. Percenter stood frozen, witnessing the nightmare unfold—bodies falling, blood pooling, and the echoes of terror reverberating in his ears.