As intimate as I have become with this misbegotten sphere named Novo Solo, it is sometimes easy to forget about the wider galaxy. Man from Volta is a SNC recruit from Volta, another outer colony and the site of one of the early-model 'efficiency society' experiments. A harsh and ruthless place, it is not unlike the crèches from which we spawned, save for its crudity and damnably terrestrial nature.
He once had a name, but the esoteric rituals in the warrior death tribe to which he belongs stripped him of any identity beyond violence. His entire being is the mask he wears; to his people, a maskless man is nobody, without a face, and the masks of the fallen enemy are collected as trophies. High-powered weaponry and desperate struggle over nutrient pipelines are the only things the population of Volta know.
Despite his crudity and guttural speech, I cannot help but feel a certain affinity for this Man from Volta. There is an immediacy to his brutality that I find refreshing. Born of necessity, it remains unadorned by the garish flourishes my compatriots are so fond of. It's a pity they won't appreciate his artistry tonight.