For my family.
Raised by a constantly ill mother and ridiculously bitter father, Chachu was taught to hate the people that had selfishly oppressed his kind. He was raised the Apache way, providing for his family through means of hunting, becoming a master at utilizing the glorious steel knife given to him by his wise old grandfather on his day of ascending into manhood. His uncle frequently took him off for weeks on end, subjecting the boy to gregarious tests within the wilderness. He was taught how to survive. His uncle, famous around both the Apache and the Navajo for his skill with hand-to-hand combat, drilled fighting into the child, always reminding the boy of his duty to his people, and to his family.
Chachu was about 15 years old when he discovered he could tear trees out of the earth with his bare arms, and outpace a variety of the creatures he hunted. After being shoved into the fire per accident by his blind grandmother, he realized that the flames did little to affect his body, other than giving him a warm feeling. Instantly, it was pronounced that a demon had taken residence within his soul. When it was found that they could not exorcise him, they tried vainly to murder him, failing miserably in the process. The boy ran off as fast as he could, both heartbroken at his family's cruel actions, and frightened of himself. He swore to himself that he would earn his way back into his tribe, he would make his family proud.
He would avenge the Apache's.
A nomad, he travelled across the country, joining numerous guerilla groups and tearing as many land-grabbing corporations down as possible, branded a terrorist. He wore the name of his people with pride, announcing it above the roar of the missiles that he swatted from the air. Eventually, he came across the Shadow Initiative, a fearless band of beings, each an ally to his cause.
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