Xander Hedberg

ALEXANDER "XANDER" HEDBERG,

this is gospel for the fallen ones

*Xander was once a socially outgoing boy in his youth, if you can believe it. He was often cheery, loved expressing his interest in boating and the navy, and had quite a few friends in school. However, after the horrific demise of his family (see Biography), the lasting effects on his mind became easy to see very quickly. The once socially active teen became a shut-in almost overnight, developing very different behavioral patterns: difficulty in establishing social connections, a speech pattern that does not seem to convey much emotion - even if the emotions he actually feels are movingly powerful - and a nigh-obsessive intensity in a small selection of interests, which often pushes him to seek mastery in said interests. Anyone who knows of his experience in the Hafindr Line Massacre can easily explain his distaste for all things pirate-related, and one can infer his shunning of the racist social norms based on the motives and initial actions of the pirates involved. The distaste for kiwis is a more subtle matter, however, and not one people often pick up on if he doesn't tell them (once again, see Biography). Indeed, the therapists in charge of his psychological evaluation and rehabilitation found it strange that he maintains his interest in the sea and its many vehicles; one would expect that interest to have been shattered by such an event, yet it seems to have only strengthened his love for naval history and technology. It didn't have any effect on the rehabilitation process, however, so they mostly just jotted it down as a side note and left it at that.

One mistake commonly made by people who deal with Xander, is that they presume his introverted and distant impression to be one he chose of his own free will. Alas, many of them forget that there is a difference between one's proficiency in something, and their desire to do it. In truth, Xander does wish to establish social connections, but has difficulty in doing so, due to his past traumas and some lasting side-effects of his medication. What friends he does make in spite of this, as a result, become ones he feels very close to, ones for whom he would trek through mud blood and fire. These bonds do come with a certain degree of responsibility, however; anyone craven enough to grow that close to Xander, only to stab him in the back further down the road, will incur a tranquil yet undying vendetta that he would hunt them through the aforementioned mud, blood, and fire in order to satisfy.

*Another new element of Xander's post-traumatic personality is his newfound aptitude for critical thinking, especially when it comes to analytical and strategic patterns. Despite his love for action movies, he knows that real life doesn't let you just run out in front of a row of riflemen with a pair of uzis and live to tell the tale. Combine that with Xander's tendency to get tunnel-visioned when in combat, and proper planning becomes a must for his line of work. This often leads him to take up tactical roles in multiplayer games, such as that of the sniper in a shooting game, or the healer or DPS in an RPG. That desire for knowledge tends to bleed over into his social interactions as well, causing him to think at least twice about everything said to him; whether this is a good or bad thing depends on the situation.

Xander is a modestly tall man, standing at roughly 5'11" (1.8 m) and weighing 165 lbs (74.84 kg). His stature is one that is muscular, yet lean and compact in that muscularity. This often works to his advantage in CQC, allowing him to deliver respectable force to a more focused area. As a bonus, it also prevents him from scaring off a wanted man, as his musculature is less ostentatious and attention-grabbing. His black hair is complimented well by a pair of dark brown eyes, and despite his job more recently frequenting indoor locations, the years he's spent indulging in his love for the sea has given his skin a respectable tan, which has spread over time to at least give some more color to the introverted bounty hunter. And yet, no matter what razor he gets while replenishing his toiletries supplies, he can never seem to quite eliminate that little bit of stubble on his chin; he's heard some women find that attractive, but it kinda bothers him, especially when it ends up getting bits of food stuck to his face.

*In terms of body language, Xander tends to be rather...formal. His posture and gait tend to have at least some element of his CQC stances in them, as if he feels he could be attacked at any moment...which would be a rather safe precaution, given his line of work. His default facial expression is often one of nigh-emotionless indifference, often for similar reasons; since his guard is kept up when meeting new people, showing emotion could give them a flaw to explot, and after trying to counteract that for years, his face more or less started doing it out of force of habit.



Xander's usual attire consists of a black pair of pants, a white business shirt, a pair of black leather boots which he often drapes his pants legs over, and a black trenchcoat. The trenchcoat is the most conscious decision he makes of the lot; it's an excellent place to hide the weapons or tools that his job often requires, and the way it flaps in the breeze when he's out at sea really completes the atmosphere for him. Alas, "Casual Friday" isn't really a thing in Xander's profession, so his choice of casual clothes is rather limited; aside from a few non-graphic tee shirts, some pairs of denim jeans, one pair of hiking boots, and a "Navy: Accelerate Your Life" cap, his business-standard outfit is often all he has to go on.

Parents
Mother: Emilia Hedberg (deceased)
Father: Major Johan Hedberg (deceased)

Siblings
Brother: Maximillian "Max" Hedberg (missing; last seen onboard the Hafindr cruise ship)

Extended Family
Uncle: Emmanuel Fredholm (deceased)

Alexander "Xander" Hedberg was born in the port town of Dahlquist, on the western coast of Fokradiin. While not remarkable for its military presence beyond the local naval academy, it was quite the tourist attraction, due to its lavish cruise liner industry. In hindsight, Xander finds it rather strange that so many rich people would feel such a desire to see the icy tundras of his homeland; perhaps it was their own sense of adventure, or a desire to see what kind of land provides for such proud and well-known warriors? Whatever the case, he can still remember what it was like to wake up to the loud blaring of a simulated foghorn, instead of the crow of a rooster or the beeping of an alarm clock. You talk about something that'll get you out of bed.

Like most Fokradiin youths, Xander was raised in preparation for the day he'd have to join the academy at age 14, with his parents carefully balancing the sheltering of his childhood innocence, and the subtle yet thorough hardening of his personality to deal with whatever drill sergeant he'd inevitably get assigned to. Unlike his peers, however, Xander's father was already an esteemed Major in the navy, and had high expectations of the boy following in his old man's footsteps. This pressure was made even more intense by the fact that he had black hair instead of the whites and blues often seen atop his classmates' heads, and suffered no small amount of bullying for it; in the traditional Fokradiin spirit, he kept his chin up when the abuse was verbal, and paid back physical assailants with interest. Thankfully, his older brother Max helped in this regard; if a beatdown or two from Xander himself wasn't enough, Max typically shut them down with what eventually became his famous speech: "You can make fun of me, you can make fun of my hair, but if you make fun of my brother or his hair...I'll stab a bitch."

Every now and then, Xander and his kin would go to visit his uncle Emmanuel, who was...less fortunate in his military retirement. The man was honorably discharged after suffering brain damage from an unlucky piece of shrapnel nailing him in the head, and while the digital implant he was given was necessary for his survival, it hasn't done much to fix the social problems that arose from the injury. He had become withdrawn socially, afraid that everyone would mock him as "weak" simply because he chose to get a prosthetic instead of, y'know, dying. It seems not even honorable Fokradiin is entirely safe from judging people based on things they can't control. 

On his 13th birthday, Xander's family decided that since he only had one more year before being customarily sent to train as a soldier, they would make that remaining year as great for him as they possibly could. With no amusement parks or other inland attractions nearby, and his own aviophobia ruling out air travel, they chose the one thing their home town is best known for: a family cruise. The liner they chose: the enormous Hafindr, which was the most expensive, but also the most luxurious and grandiose. The food was worthy of a 5-star restaurant, the rooms outdid anything one could find at an inland hotel, and the theater was big enough to house an entire orchestra! As far as cruises go, this was well worth the exorbitant ticket fee...

...but it also attracted less savory attention this time.


A mere 3 days into the cruise, the Hafindr's radar picked up five small blips at long range, about 10 nautical miles out. Initially, the captain didn't think much of them, likely a group of fishermen doing their thing. Then the blips got within 7 nautical miles...and what was once 5 blips had become 10. Another minute passed, and the 10 had become 15. By the time they had come into visual range, the blips had turned out to be modified yachts, painted black and loaded up with military-grade weapons. The crews of these "battle yachts" would later come to be known as the "Nathair Pirates," named after an old Fokradiin species of snake. By the time the threat was assessed, however, it was too late; machine gun fire rained down upon the bridge of the ship, shredding the captain, his first mate, and anyone unfortunate enough to be at the helm. The pirates then used grappling hooks to climb onto the ship, brandishing their assault rifles and shotguns, snarling and howling like beasts.


The average person would think that this would be where the pirates start holding the passengers hostage while they take everything of value on the ship. The average person would be wrong. Many of the Nathair are ex-navy men, dishonorably discharged for taking their aggression too far; they sought the blood in piracy as much as the money. Grown men were shot on sight; women were taken captive if their looks caught a pirate's fancy, and slain if they didn't. Children were taken captive, either to be brainwashed and raised as Nathair "recruits," or to be sold as slaves on the black market.

Xander's father's position as a navy Major meant that this band of pirates soon found themselves in the sights of the Fokradiin destroyer vessel Geal Bas, but by the time it arrived, the damage had been done;all passengers and crew found onboard were dead, with the Magi corpses seeming to have been mutilated even after death. Some, such as Xander's brother Max, never had their bodies found, and were officially registered as "missing." Only Xander himself was found alive; he had been hiding under a table, near which the body of Johan and Emmanuel Hedberg had fallen. What remained of his father was accompanied by an AA-24 automatic shotgun, and surrounded by corpses of slain Nathair, a grim testament to how hard men will fight to protect their kin.

In the aftermath of what later became known as the Hafindr Line Massacre, Xander had not spent his next 4 to 5 years of life at the naval academy. Instead, he spent them in a rehabilitation center for those who suffer from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. His youthful mind had been so greatly scarred by the event that no amount of BS-ing on the written forms could get him through the military's psychiatric exam. Instead of a gruff gunnery sergeant shouting down his throat, he had psychologists asking him questions and judging his condition. Instead of running laps and obstacle courses with recruits, he was watching everything he said and did in the presence of other patients, worried that one wrong move would "trigger" them or something. What combat training he did get in there was self-taught, improvised by watching action movies when the doctors weren't looking...and he certainly wasn't teaching himself to fight for the glory of Fokradiin, that's for sure.

It wasn't until he was already 19 years old that Xander was deemed rehabilitated enough for the real world, at which point he didn't really have much of a place to go. He was just told to "make his own life from here on out," shuffled out the door, and plunked down in a little house on the beach. Sure, it gave him a nice view, but...where to from there?

For almost a whole year, Xander more or less had to live off of whatever he could find around his little beach house. He worked odd jobs here and there to get some form of income, but it often went almost entirely into paying bills, transportation expenses, and occasionally having to fix the air conditioning. For those arduous several months, every meal he had had to include kiwis. Kiwis for breakfast, kiwis for lunch, kiwis for dinner. If he didn't find a job soon, he'd go mad from over-exposure to those damnable fruits!

Thankfully, Xander eventually stumbled upon a band of boaters with guns...but these were no Nathair. Their vessels were emblazoned not with the pirates' spiral serpent, but with an emblem of a dragon breathing lightning upon the waves. They called themselves the "Wyrms of Retribution," and stated that their entire way of life revolved around hunting pirate scum like the Nathair. Pirate-hunters weren't exactly rare in his part of Fokradiin; the local government has bounties on the head of every confirmed pirate out on the open seas, and the price for bringing in a captain alive would let one eat like a king for at least a month. Suffice to say, Xander had found his calling. As a bounty hunter, he can deliver the iron hammer of justice upon the plentiful villains of the world, and get paid a tidy sum in the process.

For 4 years, Xander milked his job with the Wyrms of Retribution for all it was worth. They fought and beat the pirates at their own game, striking at them in international waters to avoid national attention, sinking their ships with the thunder of armor-piercing LMG fire, taking alive who they could, and sending those they couldn't to the depths. Some naive fools criticized them for "fighting piracy with piracy," but to put it that way wasn't fair; their targets were easily capable of fighting back, and they weren't stealing pirated loot from their conquests, only bringing it back to their homeland to be redistributed as the governors saw fit.



Alas, all good things must eventually come to an end.

It was a particularly rainy day when it happened. In hindsight, they shouldn't have even been out there with the weather that bad. Still, they had heard about a rather notorious pirate captain in the area; a Magi named Bolverk enjoyed using his powers to brainwash his victims into doing whatever he wanted them to, whether that was surrendering their valuables, declaring themselves as his personal slaves...or simply committing mass suicide. In light of both his abilities and his crimes, the reward notice broke the usual "live capture bonus" tradition, and instead read quite simply: "bounty doubled if brought back dead." Well, they managed to get the drop on him, and about 40 seconds later, dead he was. When they checked his ship's hold, they found several young Magi women, huddled together, scared out of their wits now that the mind control had worn off. This was the moment where Xander's trust in the Wyrms failed.

"What do we do, Cap?" Xander inquired, not quite sure what to do in this situation. "Bolverk was a Magi, his whole crew were Magi, and he probably told these girls to kill anyone who breaks in here. Every breath they take is another danger to us." As their captain pumped his shotgun, Xander's eyes widened with shock. He may have trouble socializing with people, but he's still got a conscience. His captain, clearly, does not.

Taking quite the risk to himself, Xander steps in front of his own captain, hoping he doesn't do what he fears he might. However, the analytical and strategic juices of his mind were flowing, and since he saw the potential for negotiation to work, he decided to try it. "Cap, come on. Look at them. The brainwashing is done. They're terrified. If they were going to kill us, they would've done it by now." A subtle twitch in the eye denotes Cap's irritation.

"Move, Xander. Remember what I told you: never trust a Magi."
"Yeah, you did tell me that...but I thought you were just drunk at the time."
"I am the captain here. What I say goes...and I say you never trust a Magi."
"And I say that it doesn't matter what position you're in; you can't just go judging people for things they have no control over!"
"You don't get to decide what I can and cannot do, Xander. Now move. I won't ask again."
"...then you'll have to move me."

After the brief yet intense test of reflexes in that cabin, Xander notices the other crewmates had left the room, and were going back to their boats. They couldn't obey the captain's orders, but they couldn't bring themselves to shoot him, either. What Xander did that day, he did alone...and he knows better than to think he could've just been forgiven for it.

*Afterward, Xander used the beach-side home he was given at age 19 as a safe house, continuing his bounty hunter profession as a solo contractor. Then, roughly a year after his work with the Wyrms, Xander received a notice from the government. Initially fearing it to be some "cease and desist" type of notice regarding his profession, he was instead greeted with information regarding his father's last will and testament. Why this took so long to reach him, he didn't know; it could've had something to do with his stay at the rehabilitation center, but until otherwise informed, he just chalks it up to court proceedings taking forever. Whatever the case, it made note of a vacation home across the ocean in Ethea, just a bit east of Dagos. It's private property with a surrounding wooded lot of 25 acres, and made an excellent new residence for him. He constructed a secret underground chamber beneath the house's storage shed, which is where he now keeps the tools of his trade: weapons, handcuffs, bulletproof vests, and whatever else he can spare the money for. The house's isolated location also makes it a great place to hunker down if he's being hunted by some vengeful pirate scum or such; the surrounding woods and hills make getting to it a pain, and the layout provides plenty of vantage points and hiding spots for him to use to his advantage. The old man must've been thinking ahead with the architect, because anyone foolish enough to take on Xander in his own home is going to find themselves on the wrong side of a shooting gallery real fast. Bravo, Hedberg Sr., bravo.

*While he no longer counts among them, he hasn't forgotten his old comrades in the Wyrms of Retribution; the hung plate that bears their emblem still resides with him, tucked away in the underground weapons locker he set up beneath the vacation house he inherited. Whenever he has some time off, he heads there to enjoy some time with just himself and the surrounding nature, to contemplate the events that brought him to where he is...and to consider where he might go from here on out.

- Firearm I: Can accomplish fundamental and basic feats with firearm weapons.
(Xander's history as a Wyrm of Retribution involved a lot of gunplay, whether it was from the decks of their own ships in a sort of simplified ship-to-ship engagement, or at closer quarters on the deck of an enemy vessel, or a third party ship under siege. Alas, since his training in this field wasn't quite up to par with the military's regimen, he's not the type you'd throw at a government-sanctioned black ops team anytime soon.)

- Unarmed Combat I:You know the basics and can hold your own in a street fight.
(Sometimes, things simply happen at quarters too close for guns to be reliable. While some favor knives in that scenario, Xander always found it easier to fall back on CQC. It was the one practical skill he learned at the rehabilitation center, and he's become at least proficient enough with it to handle the average criminal scum he's put up against.)



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FATE/Zero, Emiya Kiritsugu as Xander Hedberg