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[MetalSlimeHunt]

Today, a new day dawns on the future of mankind. I remember how it all started....

It began with a vision. My vision. The vision that those who claimed power did not deserve it, that they held back not just their followers, but humanity as a whole. The vision that these false madmen must be deposed, even at cost. At any cost.

There would be a great struggle to make my vision reality. If there was any one thing I would desire above all else, it would have been to be born sooner. Before the world became a living nightmare. Before misguided humans went to any cost for a false vision of utopia, planted in their minds by the same men who stunted the growth of our species. But we can't always get what we want.

Some men might have been willing to take what small part of their vison they could, and take their place in history. These men compromise and negotiate. I am not one of those men. I will see my vision through to the end. I cannot fail, and I cannot falter, or else all others will follow in those same footprints. Very few are capable of blazing a new path for humanity, and those that can must not risk failure, no matter how small.

I was born under the title Albert Stark. As a name it once served me well, but was never true to the person I really was. Eventually, I would discard this alias imposed by those responsable for my birth and embrace my destiny in all regards.

I was born in the year 1984, both an appropriate and an ironic year, given it's literary associate. I remember somthing from that very day, in fact. It is rare to have memories of that early moment of life, so perhaps the image I still fondly recall, of Desmond Tutu being rewarded for bringing the world some small measure of peace, was the first sign of my abnormal destiny. It would have been a better memory if not for the image that enters my mind next, of a man who I had never met yet feel akin to being shot down by insane thugs in what should have been his moment of glory. Never again would the Nobel Peace Prize be awarded. I suppose it goes to show how the world had already began to fall into darkness.
My nature of rebellion against the evils of the world was always a part of my personality. I raged against the injustices imposed by even my own parents from the day I could walk. They would send me to my room alone, because even though I had the will to challenge them, I lacked power. Others lacking power may be the greatest tool of parasites who dare to call themselves human. Nonetheless, I would not allow this time of isolation to go to waste, and studied subjects of relevance to bringing the change I so craved. It saddened me to discover that I alone had this desire among my young peers.
When I first entered the corrupt indoctrination facilites of the government, I already was aware of their disingenuous intentions. What they called "schools" were nothing more than tools to control the young, not places of learning. That I could only do in secret, and alone. I tried to make my classmates understand, but they were unable to comprehend the truth at such a formative stage. I attempted to use humor and charasmatic behavior to show them reality in a manner they could understand. Only a few listened to me in the end, but it was a start.
At the age of ten my increasingly hateful parents divorced. It would prove my first taste of real violence, as I was often selected as an outlit of their rage. Some might grow resentful because of such treatment, but I learned from it as I learned from all things. The world was a dangerous place, and I had to be prepared to withstand its tortures. Pain is only an emotional response to harm. I could control my other emotions with ease, and it was not long untill even this most instinctual response was under the thumb of my conscious mind as well.
Inspired by the lessons I had learned thus far, I explored a new avenue during the next level of attempted indoctrination by the fascists. At first, I aspired to learn how to fight with a weapon. Swords appealed to me naturally. They were elegant and graceful tools of war, untainted by modern corruption. It was a useful skill to have, and I knew that one day it might mean the difference between life and death. I also became dedicated to perfecting my body, having known the pains of the world firsthand. The next time the world tried to crush me, I intended to be prepared to give it a shocking suprise.
Eventually, I decided that it was time to try and fly. Sadly, this was a miscalculation on my part. I attempted to steal a car so that I could flee the world I knew and plot how to change the future unbothered. I had learned many things in my years, but how to drive stick shift was not one of them. It took only a few blocks for me to smash the car into a wall. Luckily, I was able to escape the scene before a new branch of the police force arrived to investigate. The Death Squads, signed into law under the logic that criminals who lived to see trial would abuse the technical loopholes in the legal system to free themselves, and thus had to be stopped before that point.
After that incident, I realized that I could not do this alone. It had been years since my earlier attempt to create a circle of loyal followers for myself, but it had to be done. I was successful in this endeavor, and created a group of my fellow teenagers who listened to my message of the problems with our society. I was elated to see that their minds had started to reach a point where they could see these concepts for what they really were. An entire wing of my high "school's" hallways soon became our base of operations. There was still little I could do at this age, due to the same problems of power, but the experience was invaluable.
At 15, I ran. Attempting to live with my father's violent alcoholism and my mother's manipulative insanity was no longer an option. The world would never change unless I had power, and I would never gain it unless I took it for myself. I found solace in politics. I devoted myself to a candidate that was a paragon of all the values I knew were right. Yet...it was not enough. The candidate lost his election by a landslide, shot down by corruption, greed, and ignorance. From this I learned that the world would not change passively. The people would never understand unless they were shown the consequences of their failure to change, and the only universal language is violence.
At 18, the first fruits of my labor came to harvest. A dozen maps extracted from the computer network of a popular architect, and no one with the knowledge that I now possessed them.
Eventually, I published my message in the form of a manifesto: From the Hand of Nod. I knew not many would listen, but it was important in a symbolic manner. Indeed, I was expecting the Firemen to try and destroy my openly copied underground message. Sending them on a wild chace to destroy a memeic paper telling the truth was my intent from the start.  Perhaps in the future such a romantic tale will pay off in my favor, but if not...there are many other pawns to move. My message even had an author to it, but it was not Albert Stark.

Albert Stark is dead.

Dead and gone, lost to years gone by.

I AM KANE

Let the world fear me if they will, as long as they remember one thing, and one thing only...