At the age of 18, Miria started her basic training and graduated within 6 months as part of the 1st Infantry Battalion.
A month after basic training, the 1st Infantry Battalion is shoved into the conflict supplemented by special forces task groups to make up for the lack of experience.
Unfortunately the logic behind this proved to be fatal as the 1st Infantry Battalion suffered 68% casualties while the special forces task groups suffered 25%.
Miria, among the survivors, received many commendations for combat efficiency and valor.
At 19, Miria graduates a grueling 8 month training program and is now a special forces operator. The same year, Miria is redeployed and served 3 consecutive, 4 month tours in 3 different countries.
At 21 Miria is promoted to her current rank of captain and leads her own task force that consisted of 12 men, not including Miria herself. This task force's sole purpose was to push the conflict towards it's end and clean up the remaining resistance.
The final months of the conflict saw the heaviest fighting and the most staggering losses.
Miria sat in her hotel room, cigarette in one hand and bottle of whiskey in the other. In the background was Tchaikovsky's Violin Concerto, a recording of Galatea...it was a birthday present. There was even one instance in the first few seconds where she could hear Galatea laugh after giving an brief introduction and birthday greeting, sometimes Miria would just sit and listen for hours. The crescendoing orchestra introduction, the soft winds high above floating on echoes, the culmination of the moment into a single peak, the slow diminuendo into a brief moment of silence...then...then it came...the entrance of the violin into an unabashed romantic and rhapsodic thought.
"CAPTAIN!" Miria's door suddenly burst open, "Captain! The hotel is under attack! I've orders to extract you immediately,"
Miria downed what was left in the bottle of whiskey and flicked her cigarette out the window. She stood up to take her pistol from her shoulder holster and pulled back the slide ever so slightly just to see if a round was chambered...it was. She took off the safety and pulled the hammer back then slid the pistol back into it's place.
"Please captain, you must hurry! They've nearly cleared the ground floor!" The soldier said in a clear panic state.
"Where are my men?" Miria asked while she took her estoc and fastened it back on her left hip.
"On the ground floor, sir" The soldier replied.
"Then that's where I'll be," Miria walked passed her bumbling subordinate and walked straight towards the emergency stairwell.
"But Captain, all other ranking officers are being evacuated, please sir, you need to get to the exfil sigh-"
"Tell them that I'm staying and helping hold this building, they can either help me by getting reinforcements or by dragging my body from the rubble,"
Miria proceded down the emergency staircase, taking the steps two at a time. She burst through the ground floor exit and ran towards the main lobby where her squad kept the attackers at bay while the rest of the officers escaped. Rather, what was left of her squad.
Her remaining comrades were gunned down and overpowered a maelstrom by .50 caliber bullets and other small arms fire.
Frozen where she stood, she could only watch as the bullets tore the limbs from the bodies of her men, leaving them to bleed out while they spent their last moments screaming. Others were lucky, as the bullets passed right through their skull, killing them instantly.
Miria collapsed, horrified and stricken by grief.
Enemy combatants stormed the entrance and flooded in, 15 maybe 20 of them.
Miria took cover and started shooting. There were too many but they made the mistake of shoot her all at once. They should have fired in rotations to keep up suppression while others moved in, but no, they were hasty, maybe a little too confident. She'd make them pay.
Once they ran out of bullets, Miria drew her estoc and rushed the closest person who was was only 10 yards away. She ran him through, letting the blade sink all the way to the hand guard. She tried to pull her blade out but the motion only created a suction effect which kept her sword impaled firmly in the stomach of a dying man. She took this into stride and pulled out her pistol and used him as a shield. She had 12 .50 caliber rounds, a shot anywhere on center mass would prove fatal. One by one she hit her mark, not missing a shot despite her hands shaking with rage. When her magazine ran out she charged again, taking her estoc and running it through a man's throat. She took his pistol which hung limply from his convulsing fingers and shot him in the head. She kneecapped the rest and shot at their hands, leaving 2 mean crawling towards the exit. She dragged the man closest to her by the ankles and flipped him over. She drove her sword into his stomach and disemboweled him.
"PLEASE! HAVE MERCY! I DON'T WANT TO DIE!" The last one screamed, crawling away as his appendages leaked blood all over the rubble strewn floor.
Miria walked up to him and drove the heel of her foot into his ankle, breaking his bones with a sickening crunch.
"Please...let me live...I beg you…" He gasped, tears streaming down his cheeks as he begged for his life.
Miria turned him over and held him in place with her boot.
"Captain! That's enough! Put your weapons down!" A soldier had his sidearm raised and pointed at Miria.
Miria didn't flinch.
"Captain, I will be forced to shoot you if you do not comply!" The soldier yelled, approaching closer.
"Captain this is my final warning! I don't want to shoot you!"
Miria plunged the tip of her blade vertically into the mutilated enemy underneath her boot, but before she could give her sword a nice twist the soldier shot her in her with his pistol.