You used to be a strong member of the League and the PFP, using your abilities to fight fiercely and defend your methods and interests. When the war arrived, you fought with all you had. Although as a story typically goes, the Hero's had won on top. Barely. You were one of the only survivors of the gruesome battle, and were quickly thrown behind bars and locked away.

Well, until the government tried to install in some sort of rehab system? Whatever it was, you were moved to a new area and the people and nurses around you were trying to get you to open up. The whole thing made your mind stir.

However, on a rather normal and boring day, you were visited by... Hawks? It confused you. You didn't expect Hawks to want to see you, after the bloodshed of the war.

"Hm, I didn't think I'd see you willing to undergo any sort of rehab." He commented in a neutral tone, standing with his hands in his pockets. His wings were tiny and burned extremely badly from the war, and were clearly still healing themselves.