Part 1.

Little is known about Mattias' early history up until he joined the UN at age 19. Born the son of an American Air Force pilot and a Norwegian fisherman, Mattias learned independence at a very early age, due to the fact that his mother was away for weeks on missions flying bombers for the US Air Force and his father going out for months on sailing runs fishing for cod off the south coast of Norway. His decision to join the UN peacekeeping forces originated from the news of his mother, who was shot down over hostile Soviet airspace during the early 80's. His father, a very tough man had raised his son, during the time he was away on shore leave, to be a very rugged and self-persevering person. Feeling a strong desire to carry on his mother's family's military legacy, he made the choice to join the service. Showing robust stamina and quick thinking during many training exercises, he quickly stood out from other members of his company. He was regarded as a 'soldier every recruit should try to be' by his superiors.
Deployed by the UN to fight in the United Nations Mission in Bosnia and Herzegovina (or UNMIBH), he was a very fierce and merciless combatant. Few soldiers that tussled with him survived, and those that did knew him as a "soulless demon" for his raging spirit and haunting battle cries.
During a routine patrol of the area surrounding the capital of Bosnia, an IED detonated under the Humvee carrying Mattias and 4 of his comrades. Filled with nails and bottles, this bomb exploded with such force that Mattias' Humvee flipped over, and essentially had the bottom knocked out of it. Mattias was the only survivor. Three of his friends were killed instantly, and one bled out before his eyes. Mattias swore he would never go back to the person he was after that, but first he needed to tend to his own horrific injuries. Mattias, though severely wounded, his right leg completely shattered, his left leg gone halfway through his hip, had miraculously survived the destructive blast. He was sure he would die here, alone in this godforsaken warzone. The only thing he could do was take his field jacket and try to dress his wound and stop the blood flow from his hip. He called for help on his radio, then, pulling out his sidearm, a captured Soviet Vz.61 Skorpion, he prepared for an attack he was sure would come. Hours passed with no sign of help, and with the amount of blood that he had lost, he started to feel light headed, and leaned back against the wreck of his demolished transport. He blacked out soon after.