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Posted: Sep 21 2015, 11:43 AM
Joined: 25-April 11
Gabriel Harrison had not been dealt a good hand of cards. The southern boy had been born into a kingdom of trailer parks, each double-wide spaced out between dividers of thick forest. He grew up climbing trees and tracking things, hunting game for sport and selling it to local buyers who needed the wild meat or fur for cash. School had never been his strong suit; he was a hard worker and a fairly quick learner, he wasn't dumb, but he wasn't the type of kid to sit still for hours on end in a class room.. so he skipped. A lot.
By the time he graduated high school, it was pretty clear that he had two options: skilled labour, or pursuit a trade. Given the fact that he was the defiant type of person who rejected obvious options, he enlisted in the United States Army. A naturally athletic disposition kept him in shape, good genes helped, and he flourished in the physically demanding setting. He settled into the role of a grunt, following orders screamed at him and finding a bizarre sense of comfort in the middle of the middle eastern sand box.
When he was called back home for a 'natural disaster', his unit joked about it's severity.. whatever was happening must've been deadly serious for the government to just pluck them away from precious fuel like that. When Gabriel returned home, his mission was a million times more difficult than he thought it was. Protect civilians, eliminate hostiles. Gabriel never would have imagined that he'd be shooting women and children point blank, emptying his bullets into demons straight from fucking hell.
A week and a half passed before everything went dark. His unit was split up and his radio went quiet - it didn't matter, 'cause he ditched it after he realized the static seemed to attract the bastards. All was quiet and he was on his own.. so he took to his comfort zone, thinly forested area surrounding the city-town that he wasn't from, channeling his childhood camping and hunting trip experiences to keep himself safe. Gabriel had raided a gun shop before heading into the wild, grabbing himself further ammo for his military issued weapon and a hunting knife to tuck into his boot. Through a make-shift shoulder holster he carried an ice pick, taking it out and swinging more often than he shot his gun.
He'd been alone for a while now, even the animals seemed to have fled. There was nothing to eat, so he doubled back and headed toward town. The air within city limits was thick with fire and death, sounds of pure horror carried on the wind: gun shots, moaning, screaming. The tall brunette ignored all of it as best he could, silently weaving in and out back streets as he headed toward the down town area. Heavy boots were silent on the concrete, his deep green cargo pants tucked into them. He wore a black wife-beater, exposing well-muscled and tanned arms. The man was six-foot-three and coated in lean muscle, clearly a powerful being. His features were stoic, made gaunt by exhaustion, and his buzz cut had grown out into side swept mahogany. Green eyes swept the sidewalk, picking up movement from his left..
..so he raised his weapon and aimed it at the source. A young woman, about his age, was at the other end of his barrel. "You bit, darlin'?" He asked, his baritone voice oozing southern twang.