The world is a very strange place; full of wars and wonder. Morals mean nothing here- only money and politics really matter. We were all one nation; threatened once by each other. But our technicians and boffins kept shooting for the stars. One day we colonised the outer planets and kept expanding.
our growing military prowess forced our unification. Civil wars became a thing of the past, otherwise earth could have been destroyed by our own superweapons. In the democratic revolution, our borders were brought down and we became but a single race-man. The United Nations then became a world government, known as the United Nations Space Command (UNSC for short).
Our technologic strength grew exponentially after that. We built bigger and better ships. More efficient ballistic guns, more effective battlefield vehicles and troop transports, and so on. But our soldiers were evolving too; thanks to CRISPR and other genetic altering sciences.
That's where I come in. My name is Christof Amiera; currently 32 years old, born in 2511, 7'4, Caucasian. From the district formally known as Sweden. Eyes of light blue and hair a golden yellow. I was 6 years old at the time; when something Called 'The Spartan II program' was due to begin. It was the year 2517; and there were whisperings of conflict between the inner and outer colonies. Nothing major; but enough to cause concern.
I had been taken away from my home; apparently because I was blessed genetically with strength and showed early signs of leadership affinity. The project was undertaken with the utmost of secrecy; kidnapping the subjects and hauling them away to planet Reach for training, and alteration. They renamed me AM019. Officer Mendez was firm but fair man; teaching us everything from tactics to physics.
Then I was fourteen, in the year 2525; when the augmentation began. Over half of us died in the process. In this; both of my legs were horrifically crippled. I was to be a 'washout'; but Mendez advised against my discharge. He claimed I was worth fixing, that I showed promise beyond most of the other students. So I was built new legs, using the best robotics on hand at the time. Then after; I was frozen along with 33 other 'Spartans', but completely off the records.
I was awoken some time later; in the year 2540; I was thawed and given my first orders. Technically aged 16 at this point (the retraining with my new robotic limbs took a while); I began my service in the war against the Covenant- an alien race hell bent on our destruction. Their weapons were greatly advanced compared to our own- and at this point in the war, all appeared to be lost.
Many of my brothers and sisters-in-arms fell to the extra-terrestrial threat, and I still remember their screams. DD012, my bunkmate, suffered mortal wounding at the hands of a needler (a gun that shoots explosive crystal). I had to put an end to his pain; and I have never forgotten the look on his face.
After many accolades and promotions; I was finally designated a unique, covert role. Since I technically 'never existed', I was tasked with important stealth operations. I adorned a light-ish red scout armour set for my new role, complete with camouflage enhancements. One such task was the investigation of a box canyon in one of the border colonies, where the entirety of a civil war simulation program known as RVB mysteriously vanished; alongside several experimental soldiers with AI enhancements (similar to Cortana) subsequently disappeared.
I traced the origin of the incident to a malfunctioning teleporter, and several small tears in the space-time continuum. Sadly Officer 'Sarge' and his cohorts were unlikely to ever return; trapped in an alternate universe most likely. But the experience changed me. I became aware of the existence of other worlds- other dimensions. My superiors commended my work; granting me the title of Investigator.
The war ended in 2552; when I turned 28 years of age. Between those years I spent my time researching interdimensional travel; and assisting in some of the most curious events of the war. I came face to face with the horrific flood species, and bear witness to the horrors of a being known as a 'gravemind'. Spartan John-117, the master chief, reportedly defeated this monster and saved humanity from the flood menace.
He disappeared however; presumed dead. Without the hero of our time, eyes turned to find the next face of mankind. I hate having so many people look at me at the same time; makes me nervous. In any case; all seemed to be at peace and the world was safe. But those dimension tears had all been forgotten. In the absence of our former foes; a new disaster was on the horizon.
The flood can never be truly exterminated, not entirely. And soon they would have a new breeding ground; and the material to create a new, better commander. So when someone asks 'what's so great about a boxed canyon in the middle of nowhere?', the answer is 'fuck all'.