I sat on the top of the old skyscraper, just looking over the dark world before me. Some folks tell me about and nicer "Oo" somewhere out there, I don't believe them. I whistle for my only friend, good old Iron Fury. He may be a Pegasus, be he ain't a girly one. I hope on and we just fly, looking for trouble to solve, because we're the only ones who will. We've got no princesses or knights or anything to keep order, but I suppose that's where we come in. But if there's one thing I've learned so far, life's not always fun, kid
My name has been lost since birth. I grew up without one. After awhile, folks started calling me "Coon" or "R Coon" on account of my coon skin hat that I've worn as long as could remember. Besides a name, I grew up with no real family. My "father" had sent me to school to learn everyday and fed me, but that was about it. I was fed up with his crap and left, I can imagine the Ork didn't miss me. After that I roamed with no aim, until I found a very young horse, with wings! It was amazing to see such a sight. Yet, saddening to watch him shutter in the cold. I picked up the Pegasus and carried him to a crashed plane. I put him down and he looked at me confused. I simply smiled at him and he knew my intensions were good. I wandered about the plane, finding food, water, med-kits, and a generator. At that moment I realized I was at home. I was 8 then, so growing up wasn't easily sped up so I could survive, but I got the hang of it. It was a routine of getting up, feeding the Pegasus, looking for food, purifying water, eat, then sleep. But one day changed the simple life style in an instant. A bandit by the name of Lee walked into our home and pointed a double barreled shotgun at me with no hesitation and demanded food. I grabbed a few cans and brought them to him, but then I decided not to let this guy win. I smacked his gun up and watched as he blew a hole in the ceiling. I kicked him back a few feet and grabbed the gun as he dropped it. Needless to say, Lee passed that day from a bullet to the head. That moment was when I finally had grown up, at the of 10. I still have no idea where I came from, but one reoccurring dream still haunts me... I am a baby and I lay next to my infant brother on the ground. He then stands and wobbles off... Infant me begins to cry of abandonment, but I don't blame my brother, if he's real of course. I'm 13 at this point, informing what little good remains in this small world I know...