I once met a CLF fighter when I was a Colonial Marine Rifleman about 17 years ago. He was a good looking dude with a close cropped beard, the whitest parka I’d ever seen. And a smile that could go on for years. I remember him driving in his white Weyland Corolla, the scents of Riftweed and tobacco pouring from his windows. Oddly, for a Neroidian, he had the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. Smelled divine, an earthy combination of patchouli, opium, urea, and ammonium nitrate. He had the most wise words, I’m a Weyland synthetic, don’t shoot.
He really left an impression on me when he fucking detonated his suicide vest filled with ball bearings that ripped through my intestines. I think about him all the time.