Entry #1So, I don't know why am I doing this, and I am fairly certain this is a very bad idea if someone actually finds this recording. But I am still doing this, telling my lifestory to a person who might never even come. But maybe after centuries when my implants have failed and I have permanently died, someone will find this and read my lifestory. Here we go...

What there is to say about me? I am Denak Kalamari, a clone, somewhat an ostrich, a mercenary and a fairly efficient melter of faces up close. I am fairly normal sized, six feet five tall and a well built body. I was born to the Gallente Federation on the Intaki Prime planet. This is my first 'life' so to say, as the Intake have a practice of transferring old minds into an infant's body to preserve his life as a non-capsuleer. How did I end up becoming a mercenary? That is a long story.
Unlike most Intaki, I used to have a hard time keeping my emotions in control as a child, and I often found myself in fights with fellow children. Throughout my infancy and to late teens, I was very reckless and impulsive. When I finally turned 16, I moved away from home and started working for the Intaki Syndicate. Most of the time I was just smuggling contrabands and evading CONCORD whenever possible. Of course sometimes I got my share of fighting with the dealers I was smuggling the contraband. During a delivery to a Syndicate pirate, an assassination attempt was made on his life via the use of an explosive device. I was caught in the blast, but not mortally wounded, that is where I got the burnmark on the right side of my face.
When I turned 22, I was given a weapon in my hand and told to shoot a specific target. Of course I had handled firearms before for self-defence, but I never had to use it. The name of my target has long been forgotten, but the important thing is that it was the first time I killed a person, which laid the path for my mercenary career. From thereon out I was hired as a hitman, killing targets from regular pirates to famous crimelords which gave me the food to my table.
When I turned 28, I had built a reputation of being a fierce hitman, killing targets up close and personal with brutal efficiency. Then something quite unexpected happened, I was contacted by the Black Eagles intelligence organization. They had been tracking my movements for several years now, and had considered me as a candidate for the Gallente military's top secret project. I was told that if I accepted the call, I would become immortal. Since death wasn't going to be on my list of things to do, and I never liked the idea of being reborn or living my life in a capsule, I took the call. Little did I know where I got myself into.
I was transported over to a top-secret military located somewhere within Gallente deadspace, shielded with very powerful profile dampeners and a cloaking device. Once inside, I was moved onto a room that seemed to be the operating room. I was put into sedatives and after that my first memory was waking up on a bed with the worst headache ever and a large circular scar around the top of my head. I had lost all my hair and was only wearing a robe to cover myself. For several minutes I just laid there, observing the prison-like room until someone entered.
Finally I was told what this all was about, the immortal clone project. Due to my high combat-prowess and efficient killing, I was a prime candidate to work for the Gallente dropclone army. After that, several years passed where I was put through dozens of surgeries, put under rigorous disciplinary training under extreme conditions of pain, suffering and borderline torture, all used to 'prepare myself for the final trial'. At the age of 30, after learning to live with a gun at my side and trained to withstand the most extreme forms of pain, that final trial came.
I was placed into a room with nothing but a table, a chair and a gun on the table. A simple command came through the speakers, and the message was simple: "Kill yourself." At first I was shocked in awe at the command, rapidly switching my gaze from the door to the weapon and back to the door. Slowly I seated myself to the table, holding the pistol in my hand. I stuck the muzzle in my mouth, against my forehead, my temple, even against my chest. My hands were shaking and cold sweat was running through my body. But if this is what it took to be immortal, I would do it. I put the barrel of the gun back inside the gun, closed my eyes and held my finger over to the trigger. When I finally squeezed on it, I heard a loud bang, and then nothing.
I don't know about others, but the brief period between death and rebirth is always startling. And I felt confused, disoriented and sick in the very least when I woke up in my clone body. It felt so strange reawaking in a completely strange body. Our battle clones are always stock, only when we are not in battle can we use the personalized clones. I stepped out of the capsule I was standing in, shakily taking steps forward with my brand new body. When I was greeted by one of the scientists, only then I realized how big I was. Nine feet tall and with the strength to topple a small frigate, the scientist calmly examined me, muttering something about full conciousness transfer. I was stuck for several hours as the doctors and scientists examined me very thoroughly before I was permitted to leave. There was a window on the side, where I noticed I was on a planet now, with snow, ice and glaciers everywhere.
The place seemed to be a training facility of sorts, with hundreds of other clones like me training to get used to switching between bodies rapidly and always be ready for combat. This went on until I was eventually turned into an immortal soldier for the Gallente and other empires to use. I mostly do contracts for my corporation and occasionally do freelance work with other mercenaries. I was also one of the rare, or maybe even the only person to retain my original body before I was made to a clone soldier, that has allowed me to bypass some of the restrictions other clone soldiers would have, like being able to accept and give ISK from and to capsuleers and be able to travel around more freely in New Eden outside work.
So there you have it, my lifestory. Guess I could keep recording entries to this as a sort of a self-diary, maybe I could publish this on the Galnet if or when I pull out from the mercenary scene. But we'll see.

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