Background

Dante Kampong was born in 1969 in the small town of Rosewood, Knox County Kentucky to Marcus and Evelyn Kampong. His father had maintained a small gunsmith shop on their property his entire life, and his mother worked at the local library. Growing up Dante was accustomed to the smells of gun oil and metal shavings. He can distinctly remember sitting crosslegged beside his father throughout his childhood as he cleaned hunting rifles for the citizens of Rosewood. As early as Dante could remember, he was…different. He was quiet. He lived and loved by routine. He could hyper-focus on any task and spend hours narrowing down a process to its most efficient. Unexpected noise would scare him. Surprise upset him like nothing else. Social interaction left him confused and often frustrated. By age nine he had seen enough doctors to be clinically diagnosed with autism. Upon further examination they figured that his hesitancy to speak around others wasn’t stubbornness, but rather Selective Mutism. He was more than capable of speaking to his parents with no issue, but he seemed to just shut off around strangers, or if he felt intimidated. His parents learned not to push him. His mother took the family in hand and taught them American Sign Language. Giving her son a way to communicate without fear of coming across awkward. His father never asked him for words again. Learning instead to closely monitor his son’s hands for meaning. School was rough. Teachers punished his inability to speak as if he was just being childish. Kids avoided him, scared he was some sort of freak. Dante desperately wanted to fit in with everyone else, but he’d never been good with the trivial talk other kids seemed to spit out effortlessly. Instead he fixated on fixing. If he saw something broken, he would do his best to make it whole again. If he noticed someone who could use some aid, he would help without needing to be thanked or praised. His fathers workshop became a sanctuary. It wasn’t long before Marcus caught on to his son's remarkable ability to concentrate and pay attention to the smaller details. By age twelve Dante was capable of taking apart and cleaning an impressive amount of firearms with guidance. He would then meticulously file down every spring and screw before carefully reassembling the task at hand. As Dante grew up, his father allowed him to take on more responsibility. Learning how to carve stocks, metal finishing, hand loading his own ammunition, even dipping his toe into trigger work and restoring older firearms. Weapons were never made for hurting others to Dante. They were simply mechanical puzzles created out of years of tradition and discipline. His father made sure he never forgot one thing. “A gun doesn’t forgive carelessness.” Those words stuck with Dante. He finished school with a bachelor metalworking degree. During this while he still lived at home. College life was college life for any kid that didn’t go party but actually went studying. He took his studies serious. When Dante turned twenty-one his father suffered a heart attack. He was still able to come to work, but spent far less time in the workshop. Without asking questions, Dante threw himself into work to support his family. People were cautious with the silent kid who couldn't seem to speak more than a handful of words, but they soon came to learn how great he was at his job. Hunters, Farmers, deputies would drive miles to the Kampong homestead JUST to hand their guns off to Dante for maintenance. They figured that if it ever left the workshop, it’d be good for years of use once Dante was done with it. Away from work Dante led a bland life. He would take long walks in the woods surrounding his hometown. Read old machining textbooks. Anything to get away from people and noise. He lived for the silent moments where nobody would expect him to speak. Dante never grew out of his shyness. 1993 was hard. Routine was put to a halt as the Rifts appeared and ruined every small detail of Dante his life. (His words.) His mother had never come home from work that awful day. And Dante was stuck with his dad and grandfather from then on. One and a half years he lived in the little workshop. Gramps and dad took care of food hunting and keeping the surroundings safe, while Dante was forced to stay inside most of the time. He just filled his time with tinkering on guns and sometimes shooting rifters from the windows when he was allowed to. And then one day, dad and gramps went out to hunt for deer near the woods. They had told Dante to stay put and wait for their return. What often had been hours normally, became days… became a week. And he waited with no change. He had to get food by himself.. so he took it upon himself to break routine.. and go out, in search for people and food.