John is a Phalmalian, a feline race. Racial traits include the lush fur, large ears, feline-like muzzle, medium-length tail, paws, and sharp claws. He stands at 6'6" and only weighs 180 lbs. His fur is a charcoal grey and features black spots. His hair is similarly colored. A unique trait is his eye color. Phalmalians almost never have heterochromia, but John does; his left eye is a brilliant silver, and his right eye is a mystic blue. He is very thin and flexible, but also has an athletic muscle tone.
John was born on a rather large planet known as Phalmalia, a generally peaceful planet blanketed in lush forests and elegant cities. A year into his life, his parents took him and left, leaving him no time to really learn anything about his own people and the Phalmalian culture. Somehow or another, they managed to completely leave behind their galaxy and ended up in the Milky Way. He grew up on a space colony. His parents taught him some basic things about his heritage, but there were many details that were ignored. They did their best to make sure he grew up like any other child, and sent him to one of the best schools there was.
John reached the age of 17 Earth Years when the announcement was made. Epsilon 12 went under quarantine after people in the population began dying off. The station was overrun by strange "Vines" that acted as veins, carrying the infection through as it slowly transformed the station into a something akin to a living creature. Those too weak to bear the virus were killed, and those that were strong enough simply remained unaffected. It seemed as though the colony itself was killing people as well. The walls would change, vines would lash out at people, and airlocks would open at random. The whole event traumatized John to the point where his mind broke down and he needed to be institutionalized. He didn't return to reality until after the virus was defeated. It lasted for nearly a month. The cure was engineered and the disease was eradicated, but not before it made the colony almost inoperable and took the lives of over 70% of the citizens. John's parents were among them. He wasn't terribly influenced by their death, surprisingly enough. He reasoned that dying was part of living, and that it shouldn't be feared or mourned. Unfortunately, that philosophy took a deeper root then it should have. He never, EVER feared death after that, be it his own or others. When the blockade lifted and people could freely come and go from the station again, John was on the first ship out. Little did he know, he left with a dangerous secret and an unstable mental condition. The real truth of the matter had to do with why his parents took him from Phalmalia in the first place. John IS the virus.
John wound up wandering, looking for purpose. One day, he found that purpose on a poster hanging on a marketplace wall. The Galactic Armed Forces. He sighed up and managed to get into a top academy. He worked his hardest, striving to reach the top. He majored in Engineering, Aviation, and Tactics, with many other sub-skills. Most thought it was impossible to have excelled in more then one area, but he somehow managed it. His piloting skill was by far the most impressive. It landed him right in a fighter of an elite squadron, known as the Elite Angels. He flew with them until he was 25. One day, on a large-scale defence mission, his squad was ambushed before they could even make it to the battle. Right from the start, two of his friends were wiped out. One was erased from existence by a particle beam, and the other died as her body was torn to shreds by hundreds of bullets. John was heavily wounded next. From behind, an enemy ace sent a wave of ammo through his fighter. Most tore through his body and out the canopy. A damaged hydraulic pipe snapped and went flying straight forward, straight through John's chest. He was impaled to the pilot seat and losing oxygen at an alarming rate. The squad commander came about to try and save him, but had his fighter ripped in half by a strange gravity well that seemed to have been created from nothing. The final squad member, Wasp, had always been jealous of John's skill. He turned and ran from the fight, leaving John for dead. He was wounded, weak, weapon-less, and a sitting duck against the final foe. In a last-ditch effort to save himself, he drew his side-arm, aimed at the on-coming enemy, and fired. The round pierced the man's throat. John set a course for the nearest station and set the throttle to full. He couldn't stay concious for the whole ride.