BORN IN THE WASTES OF THE AUSTRALIAN OUTBACK,

AX WAS NOT RAISED—HE WAS FORGED.

THE RELENTLESS SUN AND ENDLESS DUST SHAPED HIM INTO

A WEAPON OF PURE ANNIHILATION.

CHAINS AND SCARS ARE HIS SCRIPTURE;

EACH MARK, A VOW OF VIOLENCE.

INTELLIGENCE IS NOTHING.

HIS DEVOTION TO TRE IS ABSOLUTE.

AX DOES NOT SPEAK—HE BREAKS.

WHERE OTHERS HESITATE, HE DELIVERS ONLY FINALITY.

THE BATTLEFIELD IS HIS ALTAR.

EVERY EXECUTION, AN OFFERING TO WRATH.

HE DOES NOT REASON.

HE DOES NOT RELENT.

HE ENFORCES.