Jason Red



Name:  Jason Red

Age:  28

Sex: Male

Appearance: Jason has lightly tanned white skin, he has light blue eyes and very short brown hair. He has a 5 O'Clock shadow at the moment but is usually clean shaven. His eyes are deeply set and he more often than not has bags under his eyes from a lack of sleep. He is visibly muscular, but not massive. He's a little over 6ft tall, has a faded curved scar that runs under his left eye and numerous scars from dog bites on his left forearm.

Strengths:  Jason is skilled with most every type of firearm; from basic handguns to advanced assault rifles, primarily thanks to nearly twenty years service in Talon Company, although this is only one of his minor strength's. His true strength lies in his higher than average perception, he tends to notice things most wouldn't and is extremely talented in hand-to-hand fighting, having spent the majority of his youth fist fighting and consequently carrying his training on in between company contracts over the past twenty years, using a small variety of scavenged martial arts magazines to educate and train himself.

Weaknesses:  Jason is extremely stubborn; he usually believes his perception of any given situation is correct and even the best and most logical of speakers will struggle to change his mind once he decides something needs to be done or is correct in his eyes, this, in turn with only socializing with a band of sociopath killers for the majority of his life has made him socially inept. His last, and probably worst weakness giving his career and talents is a recent bullet wound to his left kneecap, it has left him significantly slower and in turn has heavily affected his martial art training's effectiveness.

Weapons:  Only a 92FS Beretta at the moment.

Clothing:  A dirty green buttoned shirt with dark blue jeans and black Talon Company combat boots.

<span style="font-family:'lucidagrande','lucidasansunicode',arial,verdana,tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:22px;color:rgb(128,0,0);">Personality: <span style="color:rgb(168,168,168);line-height:22px;font-family:'trebuchetms',helvetica,sans-serif;"> Jason is above all cold and calculating, he appears completely ruthless to everyone except those closest to him. He counters this by being extremely loyal to those who show him kindness, almost to the point of it seeming insane. He will do nearly anything for money, believing the only thing to be more important is loyalty. He tends to get angry quickly and because of his thoughts towards loyalty to his friends he often faces difficult decisions between furthering his own goals and staying true to what he believes; loyalty to his friends.

<span style="font-family:'lucidagrande','lucidasansunicode',arial,verdana,tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:22px;color:rgb(128,0,0);">Occupation: <span style="color:rgb(168,168,168);line-height:22px;font-family:'trebuchetms',helvetica,sans-serif;"> Ex-Talon Company Veteran.

<span style="color:rgb(128,0,0);">Faction: <span style="color:rgb(168,168,168);line-height:22px;font-family:'trebuchetms',helvetica,sans-serif;"> Moriarty/Pierpoint at the moment.

<span style="color:rgb(128,0,0);">Biography: <span style="color:rgb(168,168,168);line-height:22px;font-family:'trebuchetms',helvetica,sans-serif;"> Jason grew up a raider; his mother and father a pair of druggy killers who resided in the massive raider camp of Evergreen Mills, it was a hard upbringing and Jason soon had a hate for the people he grew with. He would frequently fight dogs and other children for scraps of food and he was badly beaten more then once for the crap he did managed to take by the older fiends. It was one such occasion that would be a major turning point in his life. The eight year old Jason had been starving, he hadn't eaten in days, the caravans had long since stopped travelling anywhere near the camp because of the fact that the raiders had gotten greedy, simply killing and robbing everyone and everything they saw. Because of this food had been even scarcer then usual, so the boy, convinced by the pain in his stomach decided he would steal a tin of mush off of one of the raiders while he slept. It went reasonably well until Jason's mother saw him eating it and snatched it off him, polishing it down herself. As soon as the other fiend awoke he noticed his food was gone, spotting the woman gulping it down he threw her against the wall, putting his blade to her throat. She quickly told him it was Jason who she had taken the food from and the pair went on to beat him until he was unconscious.

<span style="color:rgb(168,168,168);line-height:22px;font-family:'trebuchetms',helvetica,sans-serif;">When the battered boy finally awoke it was to the sound of gunshots, he quickly jumped up, grabbing his mother's Beretta and sprinting out of the factory and into the mill outside. There he spotted a couple of dozen men in shining black armor, nearly all of them carrying automatic rifles. They slaughtered every raider they saw with trained accuracy and complete ruthlessness. Jason, hiding behind a large train carriage, spotted the raider who had beaten him earlier. Quickly moving taking cover behind a makeshift shanty. He followed what he had seen his mother do, clicking off the safety and pulling the top-slide back on the Beretta, watching as the black hammer cocked back and hearing the guns beautiful click. He lifted the gun, using both hands to steady himself as he stared down the sights, getting the raider in between them.

<span style="color:rgb(168,168,168);line-height:22px;font-family:'trebuchetms',helvetica,sans-serif;">He squeezed, the bullet slamming into another large bit of metal a few feet behind the raider. The raider glared right at him, his eyes burning with anger. The boy lifted the gun again, at the same time as the raider; his gun being a long rifle. Jason quickly squeezed once again; the loud bang was followed by a scream of pain as the bullet cut through the raiders thigh. He squeezed again and again until the gun clicked, indicating it's emptiness. He had hit the raider about four times, one in the leg, three in his chest. A few minutes later, he sit in shock against metal shanty, looking up as one of the men in black armor approached slowly, chuckling.

<span style="color:rgb(168,168,168);line-height:22px;font-family:'trebuchetms',helvetica,sans-serif;">"This isn't funny, [censored]!" Shouted the young killer, with a single tear rolling down his cheek. The man stopped laughing, staring into the boy's eyes.

<span style="color:rgb(168,168,168);line-height:22px;font-family:'trebuchetms',helvetica,sans-serif;">"No... Not funny. Intriguing, very intriguing... How would you like some ammo for that handgun, a new, warm place to sleep... And to be with people who understand the pain I see in your eyes?" the man spoke, not in a warm tone, his voice was firm, emotionless. Jason looked around slowly, there were dead raiders everywhere, some still dying, one had been captured alive, a man. Three more men were beating him with bats. Jason shocked even himself, he didn't feel anything for the dead. Nothing, nothing but a small surge of pride in his small part in their demise.

<span style="color:rgb(168,168,168);line-height:22px;font-family:'trebuchetms',helvetica,sans-serif;">"What would I have to do?" the boy spoke, his voice matching the man's in lack of emotion. Standing up and clutching the handgun, staring at the tall bearded man. He simply nodded, reached into a pouch at his side, rummaging around in it for a few seconds before finally tossing a small round at the boy's feet. He cautiously picked it up, ejecting the clip of the Beretta and pushing the round inside, before sliding it back in and readying the handgun. He nodded, looking at the beaten raider; already knowing what he was expected to do.

<span style="color:rgb(168,168,168);line-height:22px;font-family:'trebuchetms',helvetica,sans-serif;">"Bring that filthy bastard over here!" shouted the bearded man; two men quickly grabbed the raider by his arms and dragged him over, his face was bloody and bruised.

<span style="color:rgb(168,168,168);line-height:22px;font-family:'trebuchetms',helvetica,sans-serif;">"Waste him." spoke the man, still with no hint of emotion.

<span style="color:rgb(168,168,168);line-height:22px;font-family:'trebuchetms',helvetica,sans-serif;">"Don't do it kid... We're family." coughed the raider.

<span style="color:rgb(168,168,168);line-height:22px;font-family:'trebuchetms',helvetica,sans-serif;">"[censored] you!" mumbled Jason, smashing the butt of the handgun into the man's jaw. A couple of the black armored men laughed.

<span style="color:rgb(168,168,168);line-height:22px;font-family:'trebuchetms',helvetica,sans-serif;">"Don't do that kid, it can make the gun jam." The bearded man commented.

<span style="color:rgb(168,168,168);line-height:22px;font-family:'trebuchetms',helvetica,sans-serif;">Jason nodded, lifting the gun to the mans head; pressing the muzzle to his forehead before squeezing. The blood sprayed the boots of the Talon Company mercenaries. The young killer left Evergreen mills that day, with a new family, a new family of slightly better people... Better killers.

<span style="font-family:'lucidagrande','lucidasansunicode',arial,verdana,tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:22px;color:rgb(128,0,0);"><span style="font-family:'trebuchetms',helvetica,sans-serif;">-Twenty Years Later

<span style="color:rgb(168,168,168);line-height:22px;font-family:'trebuchetms',helvetica,sans-serif;">It has been twenty long years since the day that Jason helped murder the people he grew up with, twenty blood stained years. The only face he saw in his dreams, the one face that every last person he had killed over the years now blended into was the raider he had executed on that day twenty years before. He had happily and sometimes even proudly served Talon Company for all those years, going out on his first contract with a training squad at the age of thirteen. For fifteen [censored] years he had spilled blood for those bastards and now a simple stupid rule prevented him from ever seeing their HQ again. The rule was... "You shall complete your contract, or die trying. Failure to do so will result in your execution."

<span style="color:rgb(168,168,168);line-height:22px;font-family:'trebuchetms',helvetica,sans-serif;">He and his squad had failed to kill their target in Grayditch, all because of the tin wearing pricks! The Brotherhood of Steal and the damned Enclave. When they arrived the town was already burning, everyone was killing each other. As soon as the Brotherhood spotted their squads Black Armor and the insignia on their chests they began blasting. Jason's whole squad was massacred in the ten minute assault, he only managed to survive himself by climbing behind a rock and collapsing due to the blood loss from a shot to his left kneecap. Luckily he had quickly wrapped a large bandage around the wound or he would have almost certainly bled out.

<span style="color:rgb(168,168,168);line-height:22px;font-family:'trebuchetms',helvetica,sans-serif;">It took him nearly a whole day to crawl to Megaton, he had sold his armor for the caps to get his leg stitched up and buy a couple of magazines for his Beretta, he had spotted something, no someone he couldn't ignore leaving Megaton... Barry Burton. He hadn't seen the man in nearly eight years but his face was still near enough the same and the massive magnum strapped to his chest was unmistakable. He gathered some Med-X for his leg, there was no going back to Talon Company now, he would have to move on. <span style="color:rgb(168,168,168);font-family:'lucidagrande','lucidasansunicode',arial,verdana,tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:22px;">