Name: Joseph Donnelley

Age: 43

Gender: Male

Height/Weight: 6’/193

Appearance:

Not what most think of when they hear the word 'international spy for the CIA.' Perhaps that's the point all along. Not dashing, not suave, but dark in his way, he stands at an even 6', 180lbs of lean muscle, and always moves deliberately until it's time for action. Two bullet wounds can be seen, paler than the rest of his skin, just under his ribs on his left side. He walks with the slightest limp and grimace whenever signs of rain start to show. His voice has traces of Texan in the words when he isn't trying to mask it and he always speaks in a measured tone. This coupled with his natural deliberate demeanor as well as resting sad-smile'd, kind-eye'd face gives the impression of a stern man, stern but fair.

His blue eyes are nothing if not a little disarming and only adds to the calm air about him. He has had years and years of practice to keep a straight face even when his thoughts are screaming and heart is racing, after all, in the games of life and death that are so common in his line of work, it's at least good if you can fake it until you make it. A team leader should be the last one to tuck tail and panic. A gaunt face with a burn scar that descends down his neck from an accident where his vehicle had been caught on fire somewhere in Chechnya lends a sort of sad air to the man that the endless war against the inevitable has created. Under the sad smile, the bonds he creates, everything, he knows one day this life will come to a nasty end for him. It doesn't mean he'll make it easy for the bastards. Like a street dog bearing its teeth at falling bombs.

Agency/Organization: CIA Directorate of Operations, Paramilitary Operations Officer, SAC/SOG Ground Branch, Clearance: Delta Green

Education: A sum of 20 years in the military; the US Army Rangers, then passing through SOPC, SFAS, then SFQC to earn a place in the Green Berets. 8 years in the CIA.

Background: Joseph Donnely joined the Army when he was eighteen, a young whippersnapper and son of a motorcycle mechanic, out of Texas with a need to prove to himself that he could be more than what he was. He always figured that the Army would be his only way out of the shithole town he'd lived in in rural West Texas. Being one of only a very small group of kids that liked skateboarding and angry music instead of standing around and listening to country in a parking lot had seen him getting into a fair few scraps in his time, only serving to toughen him up even moreso when his father wasn't around to do it himself. It was because of his father's alcoholism and uncontrolled PTSD from his tours in Vietnam that had seen Joseph embarking on his early life of drugs, crime, and rotten debauchery rather than stay home. Eventually this all culminated into him joining a Hardcore Crew, what amounted to the Hardcore Punk scene's motorcycle clubs and street gangs. It would take him the loss of his best friend to a drive-by shooting in Dallas and his girlfriend overdosing on heroin that had him finally realizing his plans of joining the military.

His initial four-year contract being up, in which he attended the US Army Airborne School, he returned to his small Texas town to become a Sheriff's deputy with a hard head and an even harder ass, apparently. It was around this time that he became known endearingly as Robocop among the town kids, with which he always tried to maintain a rapport with. He was famous in his little Texas town for being Sherriff Gracy's golden boy, trying to clean up the county on his lonesome. Around this time he'd met a girl named Holly French, and as they say, the rest is history. Though, his reputation as a risk-taking, motivated individual was obviously not what a small town Sheriff's department needed, and so after only two years as a Deputy he re-enlisted at the behest of Sheriff Gracy and a couple of his friends, promising to Holly that he would stay safe.

This time around, Joseph had an easier go of things, but Joseph had a reputation for proving to himself that he could be more than he was. He attended RIP, the Ranger Indoctrination Program, and passed with colors. He spent these four years as a US Army Ranger and was deployed to Afghanistan following the War on Terror, in which he knew that the promise made to Holly was now out of his hands and right into God's own. He took part in fifty raids over the course of two combat rotations, assisting Green Beret ODAs, SEAL teams and Delta Force. He reenlisted directly after his four years were up and requested a slot in SFAS, in which he again struggled through the grueling two-year selection process and spent the following 4 years in Washington, his new home, with the 5th Special Forces Group deployed to Afghanistan.

On one fateful day, CIA spook William Long would arrive at his isolated FOB nestled in the Afghan mountains. The briefing told him that his ODA and the indigenous fighters they'd gathered around themselves would be helping William carry out his mission of making contact with one Bazir al-Khalwadi, a tribal leader among the reclusive Wadi clan. The specifics of this mission were not told to Special Forces Intelligence Sergeant Joseph Donnely, but like any good soldier, he did what needed doing. The section of Joseph Donnely's dossier dealing with this operation is highly classified, but Donnely knew they had illegally crossed the Pakistani border by the time they had found their target. Nestled in the tribal areas of northern Pakistan, they found the village and the asset. From his binoculars, he saw them dancing around him, heard the faint sounds of their singing and chanting and screaming, the cacophony somehow making his head hurt even from such a distance. What was worse was he felt like he was starting to understand it more the longer they watched through their binoculars.

He saw the Pakistani chief tied down to a block of stone so black almost as to be made of void itself. He saw them put the knife to Bazir's throat and saw the man's neck open. He saw them butcher his corpse and paint with his blood. Long read off coordinates and a glint in the sky showed the speck high above them, a predator drone. Two missiles leveled that tiny village and made a crater of the mountainside it was on. They trekked back to the FOB, not speaking of what they saw. He couldn't sleep though, he could've swore he saw that block of stone start to change shape, bending and warping just enough to be noticed before dust and rocks and carnage flew up from the initial impact of that first JDAM. Ask Joseph about his time in Afghanistan and he will harden up, wishing they didn't stop at just two of the big bombs. “If it were up to me, those mountains would be bombed to sand.”

He came back to Washington a changed man. The Army may have made him more serious, more “mature”, but that operation in the Pakistani mountains made him distant and cold. At least, that's the way Holly put it to him. He began to grow increasingly violent with each night where sleep was somewhere far off and away. Holly put it in no uncertain terms that she was leaving after an incident at their daughters' school led to him having to be escorted off the premises by school security. He came under fire from his NCOIC and was told that if he didn't shape up, he would no longer find any place among the ODAs. He said the promise, the words left his mouth, but they were hollow. With Holly gone, he turned to the bottle most nights.

In 2010, his enlistment would be up. He wasn't as bothered now by what he saw in the Pakistani mountains those years ago, chocking it up to the stresses of the long march and witnessing the brutal display before him. Even so, he still has to take his medication some nights, and he still might drink and think and fool himself one more time. Those gibbering chants and screams would haunt his dreams, and on those nights, he refused to sleep. Dreams brought him back there, and back there was a place he never wanted to go. Even so, a quiet and peaceful life was not what he was searching for either. He was approached by CIA recruiters and has been involved with clandestine operations in Eastern Europe, North Africa and Central Asia- with a very specific personal request that he stay away from operations that would take him to Pakistan. In 2017, his home a dingy apartment in Turkey and office-space a warehouse being used as a CIA blacksite for less-than-legal interrogations, he was called back stateside for the first time in seven years, where he was told he would once again be working with Case Officer Steve Foster for the first time since Somalia- his first one of two prior operation under the cases with clearance level “DELTA GREEN.” The prospect does not delight him.

Personality: Joseph grew up in the good ol' countryside of West Texas to an alcoholic, 'Nam vet father and a mother too scared to leave but too timid to defend herself. Joseph vowed that he would make something of himself and not end up like his Vietnam-vet father. That thick shell of spite and anger propelled him like a bullet through a life of hard partying and, later on, high-risk careers.

Now though, at the creaky age of 43, he's starting to feel the years in his joints. The mind is still there, albeit tempered by years of experience in the Rangers and the Green Berets, but the mind wanders to old places at times. He's still ready and able to kick doors or interrogate targets, and has never had qualms with bending the rules to get the right guy or achieve the objective. The way he sees it, you can't ask a man to live with the pigs and expect him to not get muddy. The law smiles on means, he smiles on results. With his time in the CIA to foster an even darker and unfettered side of this rule-bending he so loved to justify, he no longer attaches any pretense of a “just war.” With the things he's seen, he knows there are only one right thing and one wrong thing in a war, especially this one- it is good to win and it is wrong to lose.

After witnessing the bureaucracy and yellow tape hinder so many operations and kill good men just trying to serve their country in the field, he has grown thoroughly disillusioned with the images of grandeur and hyper-competent shadow killers that dust terrorists and cult leaders as easy as breathing. In his words, “We were wrong to think we could shoulder everything. We thought we were supermen. Special Forces, four commandos could replace an entire army. How fucking wrong.”

Despite this, so to speak, he imagines Sisyphus happy. He knows that if it isn't him doing this dirty work to keep humanity living blissfully ignorant to the truth of just how close to doom they are, it would just be somebody else. That just wouldn't do any good, though, he doesn't trust anybody else with this burden.

When nervous situations arise, he may respond by trying at bits of odd humor. It was always a good practice to try to laugh before an operation and he keeps that as a tradition to this day. After a very long time both in the service and the agency, the man behind the shell of spite and anger has been starting to peek through the cracks and gouges. He shakes hands with rebel leaders and crooked generals, he wears smiles in the boardrooms as easily as frowns in the interrogation rooms. The world may need bad men, but the side of him that isn't devoted to the agency wished he made friends more and yearns for the old days of the ODAs and the Ranger Battalions. Wished he was a better father, wished he was a better husband. Wished he would've punched his father and hugged his mother more. Anyhow, he's here now, nothing to do but the mission.

Family, Friends, and Associates: Holly Greer, formerly Donnelley, Wife. Divorced and re-married to some pencil pusher in a cubicle. Only contact is through email following up on child support payments. (Bond 6)

Tilly Greer, formerly Donnelley, Daughter. Has not had contact with him since the divorce. Immense guilt over seemingly disappearing from her life. (Bond 6)

Hank Gracy, Former Sheriff of Donnelley’s hometown and the surrounding county, as well as former colleague when Joseph was a Deputy. Still send emails to each other every now and then and he attended Gracy’s wife’s funeral. The closest thing he had to a good father for years. (Bond 6)

His motorcycle, an Indian Chief Cruiser given to him by his father in an effort to make up for a childhood of abuse. One of the few things he was allowed to keep after his divorce. (Bond 6)

Ava Moore, part of his team and has become a source of friendly relaxation. (Bond 6)

Heather Laine, part of his team and has become a romantic interest for him. (Bond 6)

Likes: Quiet nights bonding with his team, sunsets, campfires, different landscapes, experiencing different cultures, skateboarding, metal and hardcore punk, 80s/90s gangster rap

Dislikes: The paranormal, abusers of any kind, bureaucrats, corrupt leaders, weak leaders, hypocrisy

Fears: Joseph's only family he knows now are the teams he's placed with. No matter how long it takes, he will bond with them over something, and they will start to like each other at best or have a grudging respect at worst. Either way, his biggest fear is the day he fails them. Walks them into an ambush, causes their death due to his incompetence, watches them being swallowed slowly by the maddening things some cruel universe permits or is helpless in letting exist.

He also fears going mad himself, a bullet kept in a safe place just for that day. He knows it will come for him one day, if the things he fights don't get to him first. He's seen it happen to many in his line of work, but seeing it so many times hasn't dulled the sharp pain from each one.

He knows that his daughter is out there somewhere, his wife with a better man. Both of them part of a family he will never get to see and with smiles he now can only get from them in memories. He has access to the world's most advanced database and every mean on the planet to find them. But seeing them happy, no, letting them see him as he is now. It would kill him just as cruelly as the things he's put down.

He’s also existentially terrified of the day that Delta Green fails. The one defeat snuffing out a line of victories, and that’s all they’ll need. He wishes he could be an atheist, wishes he could pray to a God. But he knows God is real. He’s coming back. And Joseph is going to be waiting for him with a gun.

The last bullet kept for himself.

STRENGTH: 5
DEXTERITY: 3
STAMINA: 3
BUREAUCRACY: 5
INTELLIGENCE: 4
WILLPOWER: 6

Skills:
Gifted(+5): Interrogation | Marksmanship, Long Guns
Adept(+4): SERE | Marksmanship, handguns | Awareness
Average(+3): Tactical Driving | Subterfuge | Persuasion
Novice(+2): Psychology | Breaking-and-Entering | Forensics | Hand-to-Hand

Languages:(Arranged from Fluent - Rudimentary) Pashto, Urdu, Turkish

Weaknesses: Unscrupulous – Once on the job, his personality makes him almost single-minded in completing the mission, no matter the lengths to which he must go. This has put him at ends with foreign agencies multiple times, as well as many a missed meal and sleepless night.

Insomnia – He has night terrors some nights if he goes to bed without taking his medication.

Slight depression/PTSD - His experiences in the Pakistani mountains have left something of an impression upon him. Because of this, some nights he drinks and thinks until he sleeps.

Aches & Pains – He lost a small bit of flexibility in his left ankle, as well as right shoulder from breakage. He won't be running six minute miles anytime or lifting logs over his head, but he can still pull a trigger and push a sewing needle under someone's fingernails when kind gestures don't work.

Off-Duty Clothing/Equipment:
Clothing: Band t-shirt or shirt of neutral color and zip-up or pullover hoodie, jeans, sneakers. May or may not don his Thrasher cap.
Weapons: He carries a folding knife and an FN FNH40.
Tools/Equipment: A wallet with fabricated ID and/or legal identification if his possession of that doesn’t breach OpSec. 200 dollars in the local currency. A leatherman multi-tool. Pen light. Notepad and pen. Ziptie handcuffs, 4.
Misc.: His medication, a pack of cigarettes, a seemingly neverending flask of bourbon, communications earpiece, bluetooth headset connected to his encrypted team smartphone.

Operational Clothing/Equipment:
Clothing: In urban areas, he dons a black or band t-shirt with jeans and low-profile tactical shoes or simple sneakers. Black Mechanix gloves, balaclava, plate carrier w/ LvlIII plates w/ “NIGHT TIME IS THE RIGHT TIME” morale patch, lightweight high-cut ballistic helmet or a Thrasher cap depending on where the current outing falls on the sliding scale of stakeout to shitshow. Black pullover hoodie if things get chilly. Wouldn't be complete without a sleek pair of shades.

In non-urban environments, he wears fatigues with tiger-stripe camo patterns befitting the environment in accordance with Ground Branch uniform.

Weapons: An AAC Honey Badger with a foregrip, Aimpoint micro and a PEQ infrared laser sight, suppressor attached when needed, single-point sling, PDW/SBR or assault rifle length barrel depending on expected distance of engagements. Serbu Super Shorty 12 gauge shotgun, ‘DYNAMIC ENTRY’ scratched into the barrel. An FN FNH40. Combat knife. 4 flashbang grenades. 4 fragmentation grenades.
Tools/Equipment: NVGs, flashlight, pen flares, and chemlights for when night time is the right time. Leatherman multi-tool, ziptie handcuffs, 10.
Misc.: Maps of the area, a compass, markers, pens, first aid equipment, a pack of cigarettes, two-way comm headset/earpro. Laptop or tablet cleared for TS/SCI/DG. MBITR radio with 5590 battery for longer range and power.

Name: Laurence (Laurie) Alexander Mathieu

Age: 29

Gender: Male

Appearance: About 192 cenimetres in height, Laurie has dark hair on the border of black and brown, swamp green eyes and peach skin near-permanently tinted rose by the sun. He has a wiry frame, insuring he has only somewhat more muscle than ordinary in his lean build, his feet and hands covered in scars and calluses. His right thigh has a quite nasty scar from an alligator bite and a somewhat deformed navel from a gunshot that landed in it. His hair will generally be in a mess with a vague attempt to comb it down and cropped but noticeable sideburns going down either side. The Ranger has somewhat shapely ears and an ever so slight cleft chin.



Agency/Organization: Park Ranger Five

Education: Bachelor's in data science with a minor in environmental technologies, dropped out from law school.

Background:

Laurence was born to a fairly affluent family of Louisiana French, his Father a lawyer with a firm that did well caring for the many local hillbillies with law problems and his mother an accountant helping her husband and the very same hillbillies.

Throughout early school years Laurie did okay, but often found his mind wandering, more interested in whatever was happening outside or with his siblings than what was in class. He progressed in that "okay" in a fairly uneventful youth just about managing his bachelor's degree. He had taken a course in data science as it satisfied his father's hopes that the lad go work in his firm later, while also satisfying the young man particularly when his environmental technologies minor was added.

But as he afterwards went to law school, both he and his father gradually came to terms with the realization he wouldn't become a lawyer along with his dad, even if his father was disappointed with the fact he dropped out just as he was about to finish.

After that he went straight to the Park Rangers, more than happy with the barely minimum wage he started with. But, he took to his job and progressed in the first year from Range I to Ranger II, and so on and so forth.

Though his first year was uneventful, that was because he was given the easier trails to cross. It was not much time before he was given worse routes and he saw strange things. He got accustomed to having to chase away moonshiners, but he could never get used to the doll candled shrines, odd voices, and dark figures he saw at times. Usually he chalked it up to the amount of time he spent alone in the swamps and woods, but at a certain point it got weird. He wasn't particularly frightened of them, but he felt it disturbed his work.

Laurie decided to be a ranger in a different state, and moved to Utah. Sure, the place had them Mormons who were pretty creepy but he could at least escape all the big-foot and cult style shit he saw back home. But his visions didn't escape him, in fact they only got more frequent. Particularly annoyed, he moved to New England and then to California, both of which still annoyed him with this shit, shit that was more annoying than getting into shootouts with drug cooks and getting attacked by animals.

Yet recently he got a bit of relief it seemed, for he got contacted by some odd fellers in suits. Now he apparently works for some higher-ups in the government, pretending he knows what the fuck is going on.

Personality: Laurence is a funnily little individual. Periods of perfect calm will be interspersed with rambunctious spots of feeling adventure and mischief. He's generally suspicious of his fellow man, but to those he befriends he'll value as a mother her babe. He isn't particularly comfortable in big cities, but as with his other dissatisfactions he has over time learned to mask this. Laurie will also generally behave to others as they to him, only being erudite and polite with the good old Southern hospitality to those who show him some. If he doesn't get it, then he will show them the nasty redneck he could be stereotyped as. Much of this is also influenced by the fact Laurie is a Roman Catholic, becoming fairly devout as time went on. Furthermore, the man doesn't have any sympathy for soldier types. While he very much considers himself a good old patriot, the idea of going to bully illiterate brown people under the pretext of help while your own country is in the shitter is quite nasty to him; while he will respect their prowess and skill he'll readily joke about whatever PTSD and similar shit they might make up.

Family, Friends, and Associates: Laurence has a quite large family. Both grandparents on both sides are alive and kicking, as is his mother father. He also has two brothers and a sister, but he only maintains much contact with his grandparents, all of whom he makes sure to visit at least bi-monthly on absolute minimum. Still, his father is friends with big figures, important judges, a senator, and other folks he meets in country clubs.

Likes: Pretty girls, folksy music, a good wad of tobacco, honesty, nature, good honest work and virtue in general.

Dislikes: criminals, vice, lies, and general absence of virtue.

Fears: Laurence is not a little pussy, he'll state that to anyone and he'll have much to verify this claim. There isn't really anything one could think of off the top of their head that would get him to be frightened. But that's because most people couldn't think outside the box for his case. What frightens Laurie is that which is unknown, and that which cannot be understood. Ghosts, aliens, the undead, whacky human experiments, all wouldn't phase him. But the idea of something that there are no words to describe, the possibility that something one cannot wrap their heads around exists gives him the chills at any time of the day.

Attributes:
STRENGTH: 4
DEXTERITY: 4
INTELLIGENCE: 4
WILLPOWER: 4
STAMINA: 4
BUREAUCRACY: 0

Skills:
Gifted: Awareness, SERE
Adept: Marksmanship - Long guns, Marksmanship - Handguns, Hand-to-Hand
Average: First aid, Marksmanship - Sniper, Tactical Driving
Novice: Computer Science, Crafting, Engine Mechanics, Subterfuge

Languages: Spanish, French (somewhere between proper Parisien and Louisiana French), Latin

Weaknesses: Laurie has steel hips, resulting from a particularly nasty alligator attack. In addition, Laurie has admittedly mild ADHD.

Off-Duty Clothing/Equipment: Laurie likes the perfect centre of the venn diagram of comfort, appearance and practicality.
Clothing: Depending on the weather and occasion, anything from a polo-shirt with shorts, to a confederate-flag adorned leather jacket with jeans, to a swanky three-piece suit.
Weapons: M1911 with a spare magazine, multitool knife, hand-taser.
Tools/Equipment: His phone, his watch, a compass, with variance and bits of his on-duty equipment should he feel it could be useful. He will often also carry bits of first aid equipment, snacks and water with himself in a bit of paranoia and mall-ninja over-preparedness for any situation. In his vehicle Laruie might also carry more on-duty equipment for similar reasons. He will also often carry a rubik's cube and other small things to keep his attention taken when needed.

Operational Clothing/Equipment: As a Park Ranger in some more remote areas of nastier states, Laurie has to deal with quite a wide variety of bullshit and must be prepared for all of it. Lost tourists, moonshining hillbillies, drug cooking Mexicans, camping Klansmen, alligators, bears, coyotes, and more. As such, he in his backpack or his ride will have to carry a very, very large amount of things.
Clothing: Much like his off-duty clothing, this will heavily depend on where he is. But more or less omnipresent is a set of heavy engineer's boots with steel caps, and either a wide-brimmed hat or a baseball cap. Sometimes motorbike gear or joint and other pads depending on terrain.
Weapons: .357 Python, a choice of Winchester 1897 shotgun or M14 Rifle (potentially scoped) usually with enough ammunition for two to three reloads for these weapons, hand-taser.
Tools/Equipment: His phone, a radio, first aid kit, several water bottles and granola bars, a watch, a compass, a map, head-flashlight, a heavy flashlight, stationery, a swiss army knife and a heftier knife. He'll also carry several batteries of different sizes, rubber gloves, repellents for local animals and bugs, a lighter and fire starter kit, sometimes a "really cool" stick he walks with, quite a bit of rope and often a sleeping bag and/or tent. All of this is generally in a fanny-pack around his belt for quicker access and in a rucksack for things less immediately needed. Will carry two spare tiers, a canister of gas and tools to fix up a car in whatever his ride is. He will also often carry a Bible, mp3 player, rubik's cube and other small things to keep his attention taken when needed.

Name/Aliases: Lt. Serena "LT" Gomez
Age: 31 (1988-)
Gender: Female
Ethnicity: Hispanic
Religion: Catholic (Non-practicing)
Appearance: 5'7, Dark hair and dark brown eyes. Fit and athletic. Fairly attractive.
Demeanor: Bare-Faced, Strong Willed, flagrant at times.
Foreign Languages: English and Spanish bi-lingual
Agency/Affiliation: LAPD-SWAT
Rank: Lieutenant, LAPD
Education: California State University - Dominguez Hills (2007-2011)
Bachelors' degree-Criminal Justice Administration (2011)
Major- Criminology, Gangs and Adolescent Subcultures
LAPD Academy (2012)

STRENGTH: 3
DEXTERITY: 3
STAMINA: 4
BUREAUCRACY: 3
INTELLIGENCE: 3
WILLPOWER: 4

SKILLS:

+5Gifted: Awareness, Persuade
+4Adept: Marksmanship-Long guns, Criminology, Subterfuge
+3Average: Marksmanship-Handguns, Hand-to-hand, Law
+2Novice: Breaking&Entering, Engine Mechanics, Psychology, Crafting

Likes: Black coffee, gun oil and loud music. Tequila. Cheap ethnic food and domestic beer, B-Rated grindhouse type films. Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu and kickboxing. "Juicy Fruit" chewing gum and "Capri Suns", but she'll settle for some "Big Red" if she has to. Fast cars and motorcycles, shitty men and abusive relationships.
Dislikes: People who talk too much and the smell of Brasso, especially when the two are paired. Recreational therapy. Yoga, "pumpkin spice", or anything "gluten-free" and IPA beers. Shitty men and abusive relationships (yes I know, its complicated..)

---

Name: Thomas Brodie Stewart; Tom, Brodie, TS/Top Secret (a play on his initials), “Stewie”, “Tulagi-3” (reference to his call sign in the Marines.)

Age: 35
Gender: Male
Appearance: Tom is 6’ ½” (184cm) and weighs 197 Lbs (89Kg). Tom has a lean muscular build; well defined torso when bared for viewing. He has an oval shaped face with a firm jaw. He has fast growing facial hair, requiring frequent shavings. He is well known for his deep resonating tones. He tends to stand tall, confident, as though he belongs. As an FBI agent, Tom wears a suit when working in the office or a business casual attire when conducting investigations outside the office. He has a favorite Boston Red Sox ball cap he likes to wear when off duty.



Agency/Organization: Federal Bureau of Investigations (FBI)

Education:
- Bachelor’s Degree in Political Science (BA – POLSCI/ECON) with a minor in Economics from the US Naval Academy at Annapolis, MD.

- Juris Doctorate of Law (JDL) from Boston College School of Law.

STRENGTH: 4
DEXTERITY: 2
STAMINA: 3
INTELLIGENCE: 4
WILLPOWER: 4
BUREAUCRACY:3

Skills:
(+5) Gifted: Interrogation & hand to hand combat
(+4) Adept: Situational awareness, driving, & shooting rifles/carbines
(+3) Average: field craft, SERE, & Pistols
(+2) Novice: psychology & knife fighting

Background: Thomas Stewart was born December 11, 1983 to Robert and Sharon Stewart of Brookline, an affluent neighborhood of Boston. Bob Stewart started a corporate law firm after law school and a tour with the Marines in Southeast Asia. The elder Stewart has done well for himself building one of the more prestigious law firms in downtown Boston. As a Vietnam Veteran, Thomas Stewart lobbied for veteran’s rights on Beacon Hill and Capital Hill. His father’s accomplishments had a heavy influence on the son’s career choices.

Tom had a sister, Meghan who was kidnapped when she was 10 years old. Tom was 12 and they were very close. Her loss was very tragic to young Tom. His mother believes he has never truly recovered from his sister’s death. After twelve weeks of searching, Boston Police found her corpse face down on the shore of the Neponset River at Joe Finnegan Park in South Boston. The memory of his sister and her death would haunt Tom for the rest of his life. If anything, her death caused the boy to mature rapidly and take things more seriously. No more would there be time for fun and games.

As a teen, Tom’s father enrolled him into a martial arts program that taught Krav Maga, an Israeli self defense. He trained at this discipline for six years earning him a second degree black belt in Krav before graduating high school. He was naturally talented at the activity and especially enjoyed sparring other students.

Tom never had problems with the law as a child, graduating from Boston Latin High School in 2002. Due to his above average academic record as well as varsity letters in both baseball and football, the young man was appointed to the US Naval Academy at Annapolis, MD by Senator Ted Kennedy. Initially, he struggled at the Academy, but eventually understood what was expected of him. It took him more than a year before he developed the necessary level of discipline required to be a midshipman at Annapolis. The US Naval Academy commissions both US Naval officers and US Marine officers while the US Military Academy at West Point, New York commissions US Army officers. You would never see a graduate of West Point in the Navy and vice versa. When Tom graduated from Annapolis, he was commissioned as a Second Lieutenant (2LT) in the Infantry. He completed The Basic School (TBS) at Quantico, Virginia and then the Infantry Officer Course (IOC) which lasts an additional12 weeks. IOC is where young Lieutenants learn squad and platoon tactical proficiency. Upon completion of his branch qualification course and awarding of MOS 0370, Tom Stewart then attended the two Marine Special Operations Selection and Assessment Phases and then the nine-month Marine Special Operations Corps (MARSOC) Team Commander’s Course (MTCC) for officers. The final training for Lieutenant Stewart prior to being assigned to a unit, was completion of the US Army Airborne School at Fort Benning, Georgia.

While in the Marine Corps, Tom studied the Martine Corps Martial Arts program. He acquired a reputation as a tenacious fighter from his training partners. He never lost the thrill of sparring with others. His past experience in Krav Maga really helped him out. Before leaving the Marine Corps, he attained the rank of first degree black belt in the MCMAP.

Finally, in late 2008, newly promoted First Lieutenant Tom Stewart was assigned as a Platoon Commander in A Company, 1st Marine Raider Battalion at Camp Pendleton, California. By late 2009, 1LT Stewart found himself in Balkh, Afghanistan commanding a platoon of fifty marines near the border with Uzbekistan. During this deployment, Lieutenant Stewart participated in several engagement with enemy Taliban troops both alongside US Marines as well as allied Afghan National Army units. During a night raid in March 2010, Stewart received a wound in the left leg and right arm, which he recovered from within the year. He received a Purple Heart and the Silver Star for his actions. Later in 2010, his unit rotated back to Camp Pendleton and he was promoted to Captain.

During his time in Balkh, Afghanistan, Lieutenant Stewart witnessed an event that will stick with him for the rest of his life, not to mention the rigors of combat and being injured during a fire fight. His platoon was patrolling the barren wastelands to the north, mounted on Humvees. They came across a large pile of dead bodies near the border with Uzbekistan. The faces on the death appeared anguished, frightened with open eyes staring into the distance. Their bodies distorted, splayed in unnatural ways, limbs intertwined. The marines, worked with Non-governmental organizations and ANA soldiers to remove the corpses, which numbered 123. Once the bodies were removed, they found a black rock shaped in a perfect square with a shiny smooth curface at the center of the pile. The four foot by four foot rock was curious as patterns on its surface appeared to move. The rock did not physically move, but it appeared as though there were slow moving clouds inside the color of the rock, which also seemed to be one of the most densest materials he had ever seen. The movement of clouds in the rock was more like a dark swirling effect, without light. Being in the presence of this rock gave Tom a creepy feeling, that tingling sensation up his spine. It was as though nothing good and positive would ever come to him for the rest of his life. He had the urge to harm himself and knew he needed to get away from this rock. Tom swears he saw the eyes of several dead move as they were being carried away from that rock.

While recovering from his injuries in California, Tom met his soon to be wife, Jillian Malone who had recently graduated from UCLA with a degree in Marine Biology. The young woman’s family lived in Reno, Nevada, but she remained in the San Diego/Oceanside area. The couple hit it off quickly, love at first sight and would get married after he left the Marines back in Boston. Coincidentally, Jillian was in the process of deciding where to take her career. She had several offers across the country and even in some foreign countries. Meeting Tom helped her decide, so she accepted an offer from Woods Hole on Cape Cod.

As a Captain, Tom was assigned as the battalion assistant operations officer for 1st Raider Battalion. He remained in this position until his obligatory time in service ended in the summer of 2011. He was discharged with an honorable discharge and Veteran’s benefits that would pay for another college degree if he chose to return to school, which is exactly what he did. Jillian followed soon after his release from the military

Upon his return to Brookline, Marine Captain Tom Stewart applied to the Boston College School of Law where he received a Juris Doctorate of Law, three years later. Although his father entered Corporate Law, Tom focused on Criminal Law with the intentions of joining the Federal Bureau of Investigations. The majority of field agents in the FBI are State bar certified attorneys prior to working. Having a military background tends to make an applicant much more attractive. In June of 2014, Thomas and Jillian (Malone) Stewart were married at St. Mary of Assumption church in Brookline. His best friend, Jacob O’donahue from High School served as his best man.

After leaving the active component of the Marines, Tom Stewart joined the US Marine Reserve where he was soon promoted to Major and served as Operations Officer in the 1st Battalion, 25th Marines. He also resumed his training in Krav Maga where he has since reached the rank of third degree black belt. He continues to train in the MCMAP with fellow marine reservists when he has time.

Special Agent Tom Stewart has worked for the Boston Field Office for the Federal Bureau of Investigations for the past five years and has seen a lot of bizarre things. He still remembers the black rock in northern Afghanistan, but nothing will prepare him for what is about to happen.

Personality: Tom is a no-nonsense pragmatic person. Everything happens for a reason and the physical properties of the known world can never change. He is serious about his work and has no tolerance for horseplay around crime scenes. Tom tends to be an introvert, not sharing much with others. He will share information about crimes with those professionals he is working with, but keeps everything close to the vest with others. He will even keep things closed to his wife. He believes he is protecting her by not telling her about the bad stuff.

Tom is honest to a fault; in that he may tell people the truth even if they don’t want to hear it. He takes responsibility for his own actions, a trait drilled into him by his father and reinforced by the US Marine Corps.

Tom has worked at trying to be flexible. It is very challenging. His inflexibility about his own ideas is one of his biggest downfalls. Mentally, things are as they are supposed to be and he uses what he knows to help him solve crimes.

He can be driven to work on cases. Fatigue and frustration do not slow him down. He views those traits as weakness, urging others close to him to work through their obstacles also and see that there are issues with a case they just have not figured out yet. He is determined to solve a case and will work dogmatically to figure it out.

Tom is human and feels for the victims and their families. He has compassion. He goes out of his way to insure victims are protected; their interests are protected and in the case of homicide, their loved one’s remains are respected. Even if he puts on this front as a tough no nonsense law enforcement professional, he still understands people for who they are. It is simply very logical to him.

As a former combat infantryman, he is very patient. Being a member of the military teaches one to hurry up and wait. This experience translates into a very patient person. Likewise, he expects a similar level of patience in others.

Finally, the FBI Special Agent is loyal. He is loyal to his family, his nation and his friends. He would do anything to help them and protect those close to him. A man with friends needs for nothing.

Family, Friends, and Associates: Tom was married while in the Marine Corps. His wife, Jillian (Malone) Stewart, 33 studied Marine Biology at the University of California at Los Angeles (UCLA). Jillian works at Woods Hole Oceanographic Research institute on Cape Cod. Jillian loves her work and is devoted to her studies. The topic of children has not come up yet, but secretly, Tom would like to have one or two. For now, they are both focused on their careers, attempting to spend as much time with each as they can.

Both Tom’s parents, Bob and Sharon still live in Brookline. His father retired from his law practice years ago.

There are a few aunts, uncles and cousins who live in the area. At least once a year, Tom visits his sister, Meghan’s grave in Saint Joseph Cemetery.

Tom’s High School friend Jacob O’Donahue is also an attorney practicing law in the Boston area.

Likes: Jill Stewart, (wife), family, people who are punctual, teamwork, reading military history, crime dramas, New England Patriots, Boston Red Sox, Boston Bruins, and classic rock and roll, specifically the guitar greats; Hendrix, Clapton, Page, Keith Richards, Jeff Beck and B.B. King.

Dislikes: Arrogant people who brag excessively, the attitude of entitlement a large group display in our world, selfishness, those who think only of themselves and have never existed in a teamwork environment.

Fears: Heights. Tom has had a fear of heights as long as he can remember. Everytime he jumped from an airplane in the military he had a panic attack but pushed through it. It took massive quantities of courage to get himself out of the airplane.

The thought that something bad could happen to his parents or his wife; the ones he loves, including the friends he has made working at the FBI office in Boston.

Tom does not have a long list of fears. He squishes insects on reaction and feels a sense of adrenaline or a tingling in his spine when confronted with a dangerous situation, either in combat or during an investigation that goes wrong. Training and experience causes him to react in the appropriate ways.

Languages: English (fluent), Spanish (90%), German (75%), Pashto (50%)

Weaknesses: The injury he sustained while in combat in Northern Afghanistan rendered his leg weaker than previously. He can still run, just not as fast as he once could. His speed is fast enough to pass a physical fitness test.

The experience of removing 123 corpses from some unearthly rock that might be found in a piece of fiction has left him doubting many of his oldest values. The experience really messed him up. It shook his confidence initially, which he regained quickly, but lead him to doubt those things he took for granted in the physical world.

Off-Duty Clothing/Equipment: Tom dresses in business casual when not working.
Clothing: He wears casual slacks; Khakis, Dockers or LL Bean as well as different colored golf shirts. He prefers a soft leather loafer and occasionally wears tennis shoes.
Weapons: His off-duty weapon is a small frame Sig Sauer P226 chambered in 9mm. Tools/Equipment: Tom carries a Gerber Leatherman on his belt at all times and carries a kuboton as a key chain. This is a martial arts weapon he has been trained to use in law enforcement. It is a simple piece of steel measuring five inches by a half an inch in diameter. He may or may not carry a six-inch knife in an ankle holster. He also carries a Google Pixel mobile phone.

Operational Clothing/Equipment:

Clothing: Black tactical trousers with the oversized cargo pockets, black mid tactical boot looking more like athletic footwear and a black golf shirt or T-shirt with the FBI log on it. For tactical situations, include a ballistic assault vest with the letters “FBI” emblazoned across the back and in small letters on the front, tactical thigh holster, shooter’s gloves, an FBI ball cap and sunglasses. The ball cap could be traded for a high cut ballistic tactical helmet. This kit would also include throat mic and communications equipment. He typically carries two extra pistol magazines as well as eight 30-round box magazines for his M4 Carbine.

Weapons: His on duty weapon is a medium frame Sig Sauer P229 chambered in .40 S&W. He also has an M4 carbine with all the fancy gadgets in the trunk of his work vehicle as well as a 12 gauge shotgun.

Tools/Equipment: two sets of Peerless Handcuffs, several sets of flex cuffs, Gerber Leatherman, a few six inch knives, lensatic compass, first aid kit, laptop computer, rubber gloves, several assorted colors of chem-lites and a mag-lite flashlight.

Tom and Jill's cars
Tom’s Car: 2018 maroon Toyota Sequoia
Lives on John Paul Circle, Braintree, MA The driveway for the Stewart residence is slightly longer than the other homes on the street. The house was slightly obscured by a line of trees along the road.
Jill’s Car: 2019 Mediterranean blue metallic BMW 3-series sedan

NPCs from work
Ray Calhoun, 48, Supervising Special Agent, Field Office, Boston, MA has three children, served as an M1 Abrams MBT gunner in the 3rd Armor Division in Op Desert Storm.
James Calhoun, 16 plays first base for Boston Latin school, born in August, 2002
Pam Calhoun, Ray’s wife, miscarriage in 2000 and 2001

NPC Members 1-25 Marine (Res)
Battalion Commander: Lieutenant Colonel Norm Miller, originally from WV, late 30s, served as a Lieutenant during the march up to Baghdad in 2003.
Executive Officer: Major Vijay Srinivas, large New Yorker of Indian descent
Intelligence Officer (S2): Captain Reginald Washington, African American, works for State Police Officer,
Assistant Operations Officer (S3 Air): Captain Alejandro “Alex” Jimenez, from Holyoke, MA
Major Stewart’s driver: Lance Corporal Jacob Hastings, 19, from Athol, MA, enjoyed his time in the Corps, 5’ 6”, lean smoked Marlboro cigarettes, worked in construction
Major Stewart’s gunner: Private First Class Paul Frenier, M240 Machine gun

1-25 Marine (Reserve) locations
Headquarters and Services Company, Ft. Devens
Weapons Company, Ft. Devens
A Company, Brunswick, Maine
B Company, Londonderry, New Hampshire
C Company, Buffalo, New York.

VMM-744, a Medium Tiltrotor Squadron out of Chambers Field in Virginia. They are equipped with V-22 Ospreys

OPFOR: C Company, 1st Battalion, 19th Special Forces Group, 83 soldiers

Operational information
Company A AO Brunswick
LZ Saipan
Major Stewart’s callsign: Tulagi Tree
TOC callsign: Iwo fife six

Name: Heather Laine, PhD
Age: 34, born January 30 1985

Gender: Female

Appearance: 5’8’’, an attractive woman with an hourglass build, fit but not quite athletic; black hair that is short and straight, cut in a bob with bangs. She only wears black or gray, generally fitted knee length skirts and high heels when in the office, slacks and flats when in the field, she carries a pair of Doc Martens in her car just in case she is needed in an actual field. Her green eyes behind her black framed cat eye glasses gleam with intelligence and subtle wit. Naturally pale, she avoids the sun like she owes it money.

A few tattoos including a bat in black ink on her right upper chest/shoulder and a death's head moth on the upper left. A few others on her shoulders to be listed as I think of them but always covered in professional settings.

Agency/Organization:FBI, former special agent, now a profiler with the Behavioral Analysis Unit and works as a consultant to both private and other law enforcement teams.

Education:PhD in forensic psychology earned at University of California, Irvine; minor in social anthropology 2003-2010; currently working towards a Bachelors in Biological Behavior with a plan to get a Masters from Johns Hopkins
Training at Quantico, FBI academy 2010-2011, 2011-2013 as a field agent in Los Angeles before transferring to research and then the Behavioral Analysis department in 2016

Background: Heather always had an interest in people, not so much to know them but to know how they worked. She was not a gregarious girl but affable enough to be able to make and forget friends quickly. She was the weird kid dressed in black and that never really left her. Instead it has matured into a quick, sharp intelligence that picks up nuances in behavior and body language. There is an air of detachment, both from her childhood as a loner in a crowd and her profession.

The interest in people and her parents dragging her to Mass every other Sunday left her with a deep interest in religion of all kinds. And if it was true, if it has any existence other than what the human mind created and wrote down. Growing up in California she was exposed to all sorts of communities and religions, from Catholic and Judaism to trendy vegan buddhism to satanic self help groups. School work was easy, boring and the intelligent girl made her second home in the library and begged for a home computer which her parents hesitated in getting for her until late highschool.

Her mother was a failed actress and worked part time substituting as a drama teacher. She was generally narcissistic and relied on a lot of prescriptions to get her through life of broken dreams. Her breakdowns would follow her not getting her way, either from her husband or a situation in her social/professional life. She tried to push Heather into acting and modeling by putting her in dance and acting classes as a child but she showed no interest, much to her mother’s disappointment.

Her father was a construction engineer, a kind and encouraging man but often absent while working on projects. They moved a few times but never far from Los Angeles. Her birth and first years were in Van Nuys but grew up in Torrance, a home of surfers and beach culture but her interest and social life in highschool lay in the concrete ditches and shabby punk clubs that sprung up in the grimy borderlands between the crime ridden gang filled neighborhoods and the well off middle class. She maneuvered the social scene as an outsider and ended up hanging out with punks and skinheads, ska kids and goths, the other outsiders. Her first love and first broken heart came from a boy with a blue mohawk. Her best friend and the group drifted away after highschool but she treasures the memories.

College It was only during college and her psychology training did she understand why she was like this, her attachment issues and fear of rejection. She had built walls made of emotional scars from her neglectful parents and she has worked to bring them down with the right people. She has few that she would call close friends, those now distant since they are married and starting families while she is still single. All except her best friend, her sister from another mister, Mariana Jones. They both majored in forensic psychology, they competed against and supported each other through college and the rigours of the UC PhD program.

A Brush with the Void At 14 years old, she was at a beach party at night and went for a walk under the pier, listening to the tide and only had a small penlight to guide herself over rocks when she tripped and found herself face first on the corpse of a missing girl. She screamed but the crash of incoming waves covered it and she saw what haunts her still. A tear in the darkness where no stars or distant city lights could penetrate and a hideous growling laugh, from the throat of Hell itself. She got up and ran back, screaming for help and could not shake the feeling of being followed. To this day she still suffers nightmares of the voice and the unfathomable darkness. When talking to the police, she was told she must have imagined it, that it was the shock that caused the strange vision, and outwardly she agreed but the image never left her. The horror on the dead girl’s face, frozen in a rictus of insanity. What had she seen when she died?

Over the years, Heather convinced herself it must have been a human killer, someone sadistic and evil but human. Since the 1960s California was no stranger to serial killers and this must be one of them. She kept tabs on the case, it went unsolved but a few other crimes similar occurred in a decade span in the popular beach area and the unnamed killer was dubbed the Redondo Beach Butcher though only two of the five murder victims were found on Redondo Beach. Others were near enough that in the late 90s there was a fever of fear not unlike NYC during the Summer of Sam when women feared to go to the beach alone. Then the victims stopped being found and the fear faded into memory. Heather did not forget and kept a secret scrapbook of the crimes, her mother flipping out the first time she caught her clipping articles.

This event was a catalyst for her driving passion to understand the human mind and in particular what makes a criminal. Recruited straight out of her PhD program, she made the cross country trip to visit FBI headquarters and never looked back. This was her home, among the best and brightest investigative minds.

Career Before graduation, she was head hunted by the FBI for her interest and skill in deduction and understanding of aberrant behavior. She had a choice to join the FBI or continue her education, her interest at the time pulling towards biological behavior after doing research for her PhD which took her down the path of the entwined results of nature and nurture. She was interested in continuing towards another degree involving the biology of behavior and the FBI offered a continuing education program to assist in tuition. So she joined, making it through the academics of training swiftly but struggled with the rigors of the physical. A fellow female student who had been a track star in college coached her in working out and she managed to get into the best shape of her life. Firearm training she passed but it held no real interest for her, only maintaining her training for job requirements.

Dr Laine made the choice to become an agent to work cases before going directly into research, feeling the need for street experience. She went back to Los Angeles, joining the field office there. She had involvement in federal investigations over organized crime murders with street gangs and Mexican Cartel associations in drugs, to biker gangs andRussian mob human involved in human trafficking. A city full of crime and she was always busy.

After two years, she was ready to go back to school and moved to Baltimore to attend Johns Hopkins for the Masters program but kept her position as an agent. Now working closer to Quantico, she made visits to the training academy and met supervising pathologist Alex Bakker, a handsome middle aged man who now ran training courses in forensics and consulted in important autopsies.. They dated and became lovers until she decided to accept the position as researcher in the BSU. The fact he would be in a management position even if not directly over her meant they had to break off their budding relationship. Now she works as a profiler, doing consulting with local PDs and her own research as she goes to her Masters classes in behavioral biology on her days off, making the hour and a half drive twice a week.

Currently she is involved with a case of a missing college student, Sofie Childress, who disappeared one evening, leaving her car unlocked in the parking lot of coffee shop. Local police got involved and it became clear she had been abducted. Blood stains on the ground told of a struggle and when the call came in about a body found in Olympia National Park, the FBI were called. She was there when the body was discovered and she joined Special Agent Michael Chan and Ranger Tim Blaine investigating the site. The eeiry place was oppressive with a strange menace that unnerved everyone, in particularly Agent Chan who spent the most time with the body and the strange black stone. He shot himself two days later.

Personality: Professional, pleasant, warm and friendly but not overly so, a subtle wit and genuineness make her affable and most would say that she is a good team member, if stubborn. When she is focused, the world falls away, definitely needs someone watching her six in the field. Habit of pushing up her glasses when she has to tell someone something unpleasant, her subconscious way of mentally squaring up.

Family, Friends, and Associates: Parents are Lila and Henry Laine, still living. A brother who is a computer engineer, Roy, who is now married and has two kids with his wife Jeanne.

Bonds - Her father, Henry, quiet and reserved he is a hard worker and despite his absence from the household he made time for his children. There was a time when Heather thought he would be better off divorced but he told her ‘you don’t give up on those you love.’ For better or worse. Despite the obvious hardship, that stuck with the normally aloof teen and the few friends she did make she held onto. Her niece and nephew are also close as she doesn't have children of her own.

Dr Mariana Jones, PhD - Her best friend from University who is a psychiatrist with a private practice in San Francisco, they FaceTime from opposite sides of the continent and still go on a shared vacation once a year. This year the plan is a week in the French countryside.

Dr Alex Bakker, MD - A very close friend and ex boyfriend, recently broken up over the unreconcilable differences about starting a family but she values his honest criticism and support as both friend and colleague as well as his skill in the autopsy room.

Likes: Clove cigarettes, red wine, cats, card games, YouTube tutorials, travel, reading, music (from punk to classical), skateboarding (not too much since hitting her thirties), pool

Dislikes: Her first name. Management who are only there to stamp their cards and kiss ass. Narrow minded thinking that can stifle an investigation and those that cannot admit when they are wrong.

Fears: Failure. To fail means a killer goes unpunished, a victim unavenged, and potential other victims are created. To be like her mother, inconsistent, selfish, vain, and manipulative.

Skills:
Gifted (+5): Psychology, Forensics, Marksmanship handguns (+ training)
Adept(+4): Interrogation Criminology, Persuade
Average(+3): Awareness, Anthropology
Novice(+2): Biology, First Aid, Computer Science, Hand-to-Hand
Languages English, fluent; Spanish, good; Russian, fair; Latin, some

STRENGTH: 1
DEXTERITY: 3
STAMINA: 3
BUREAUCRACY: 4
INTELLIGENCE: 5
WILLPOWER: 4 3

Weaknesses: Physical: Not as strong as most in the group, she has a more sedentary job and lifestyle, she only works out to be able to wear her favorite dresses. While trained in hand to hand combat, she would rather avoid it.
Nonphysical: Vanity, imperfect perfectionism, indecisive, detachment, contrary and sometimes unpredictable

Off-Duty Clothing/Equipment: Band t-shirts. Whatever it is, it’s black. Except a good pair of blue jeans and a pair of Converse sneakers.
Clothing: Black. Work is tailored business suits/dresses with a vintage flare.
Weapons: 9mm Glock, standard issue FBI firearm, can of mace, switchblade decorated with a skeleton
Tools/Equipment: She has a Samsung Galaxy S10, Surface Laptop, Kindle full of useful texts on psychology, criminology, biology; A pack of Djarum Black clove cigarettes, illegally obtained; a jar of Vicks, a small journal for personal notes, micro recorder, Panasonic Lumix digital camera, Zippo lighter with the Misfit's logo

Operational Clothing/Equipment:
Clothing: FBI windbreaker, hideous; standard issue BDUs, tactical vest, flashlight, communication device
Weapons: 9mm Glock, standard issue FBI firearm

Name: Justin Thomas Clark

Age: 31

Gender: Male

Appearance:
Justin is a young American male of English descent, standing at about 5’10” and weighing about 170 lbs. He’s a well-built, but still gangly man, sporting a significant amount of muscle mass, though he isn’t toned like a bodybuilder, being more practically built with raw strength and endurance in mind. His hair is a chocolate brown, grown slightly out of regulation for a Ranger, a mark of a man who’s gone long enough without a deployment. His eyes are green, and his voice is twangy, almost sing-song, a characteristic accent of a Tennessean.

Agency/Organization: Staff Sergeant, 75th Ranger Regiment, United States Army

Education:
- High School Diploma
- US Army Basic Combat Training
- US Army Airborne, Air Assault, & Ranger Schools
- Ranger Assessment & Selection Program Graduate
- Cross-trained as part of the Marine Corps Martial Arts Program (obtained the brown belt along with most of his platoon)
- US Army Ranger (11 years)

Background:

Personality: Justin is a more by-the-books doorkicker of a certain variety, in that he possesses the traits of an observant operator, a man who will not act so long as he can benefit more by inaction. He’s mostly kept his nose where it belonged, although he sees the greater value in digging for information he can use. He is results-minded, thinking in a means of completing objectives through direct means.

While beginning to see the bigger picture, he hasn’t been made to question his place and his country other than a single incident which he never talked about, no sir. He still thinks those bearded operators who pop Haji heads like grapes or those JTACs who call strikes on villages as heroes to their nation, who scrape the scum from the gene pool. No, he hasn’t had his schism, he’s still as young and wild as that scrawny kid who walked into a recruiter’s office in the middle of the poverty-worn Knoxville downtown. He’s not happy-go-lucky, but he’s not a downer or a barely functioning nightmare of a man, and he values humor as a coping method for what he has seen.

But yet, even this unbroken man has been judged some value to Delta Green. Another skull cracker, a lookout or even a military inside-man maybe? He didn’t question it, only knew he was part of something greater than the Rangers, greater than his aspirations of making that Sergeant First Class billett. He’d signed his life away to Delta Green.

Likes: Camping, Action, Tobacco Products, Dark Liquor, Hookers, Video Games, Working Out, Metal, Folk, & Rock Music

Dislikes: Terrorists, Traitors, Weak Leaders & Incompetent Officers, Clear Liquor, Needles

Fears: Trapped - A common nightmare, perhaps the most common in Justin’s head, is being trapped. It started with the mortars. When you’re nineteen years old and sitting in a foxhole in Afghanistan, the mortars landing all around you, these indiscriminate killers trap you. Justin sat in his foxhole, a dug grave in which he swore the next round had his name on it. But he lived. But ever since, every so often, he’ll wake up in a cold sweat. Trapped in another foxhole? An elevator? His own fucking skin? It didn’t matter, the dreams were all the same.

Slow, Painful - And what does he fear more than death itself? A slow, painful death, a death where a man has nothing to do but cry out for his mother and slowly drain himself of life. That was what he witnessed in those Afghan mountains. Friends who choked on their own fluids, men who died in a thousand gruesome ways, and yet the most that got to him was the SEALs. The ones they couldn’t save. He got there in the last moments of their lives, where all they could do was gurgle and die. And he swore that would never be him. Not in all his days.

Too Late - A recessed fear, but one nonetheless, is that he will somehow fail his team as a member. Exemplary as a Ranger, he proved his worth in battle many times, but somehow, what struck him was the SEALs. Had they noticed earlier, dispatched a QRF earlier, maybe they wouldn’t have died. But certainly, with all their arteries split in twain, they would always be too late, and that just ate Justin inside out.

Skills:
Gifted: Marksmanship, long guns; Awareness
Adept: Hand-to-Hand; Marksmanship, handguns; SERE
Average: First Aid; Subterfuge; Crafting
Novice: Tactical Driving; Persuasion; Breaking-and-Entering; Anthropology

Stats:
STRENGTH: 4
DEXTERITY: 3
STAMINA: 4
BUREAUCRACY: 2
INTELLIGENCE: 3
WILLPOWER: 4

Languages: English (native, duh), Pashto (intermediate)

Weaknesses: Bleeding Heart - Justin has a major drive of determination and a ‘humble hero’ complex that leads to him putting himself almost recklessly into harm’s way for the benefit of others. It stemmed from his time in the Rangers. They didn’t leave each other behind. A squad or platoon is pinned in a valley? Sarn’t Clark volunteering in first vehicle of the rescue convoy. It’s persisted so much to the point where he will vehemently defend his comrades and try to come to their rescue. It got him shot twice in Afghanistan and no doubt it’ll have worse done yet.

Beyond Repair - Though in the two times he was shot in service Justin recovered nearly perfectly and returned to his door-kicking lifestyle. However, one particular shot which grazed a particular part of his hand and wrist made tendons grow back wrong or maybe even the bone got fucked, but either way his right hand has chronic pains that can sometimes affect dexterity and fine motor control, albeit it does not generally affect day-to-day operation, as most weapon manipulation (ex. reloading) is done with his left hand. It manifests mostly when the adrenaline isn’t pumping, making things such as continuously gripping a surface difficult.

If asked, David would say that his father only ever gave him one birthday present: a Romanian surplus AK-47, chambered in 7.62 x 39mm and illegally modified for fully automatic fire.

He had just turned six.

David’s Vietnam-veteran father, Joseph “Big Joe” MacCready, was not a nice man. In fact, he was a hard, cruel, violent man, the self styled “Commandant” of the Arkansas Free Citzens, a survivalist-minded militia with a hate-on for the U.S. government and a White Supremacist streak a mile wide.

The younger of Big Joe’s two sons, David was home schooled and raised on the Militia compound from birth. As an infant, he was little more than a mascot. By age five he was “playing pretend” with the older members, running around in little fatigues and shouting “Bang Bang” with plastic rifles. By ten he was considered a recruit, and by fifteen he had been given the rank of Private First Class, and was living and training full time with the other members of the compound. His early life was one of a Domestic Terrorist In Training; he performed daily PT sessions with the adults, honing his body to the peak of physical fitness, and learned to shoot, stab, and blow up anything that disagreed with his Radical Right-Wing mentality. Wilderness survival, bomb making, hasty ambushes; these were drilled into his head every day since he could remember, along with a healthy dose of racism and distrust for the Federal Government.

Though David had always secretly questioned his involvement in what his father called “The Movement”, things came to a head when young David was 14 years old. His maternal grandfather, Dan Nolan, had long disapproved of his son-in-law’s hateful lifestyle, and had done his best to draw his grandsons away from life in the compound.

When David was 16, tragedy struck, and his life fell apart. His older brother, “Little Joe” MacCready, was pulled over by the Arkansas highway patrol. Rather than surrender to Big Brother’s goons, Joseph Jr. instead left his truck, pulled a Glock 9mm from his waistband, and killed two highway patrol officers as they went about the routine of filing his ticket for an expired registration. A high speed chase ensued, and when Little Joe was finally cornered, he opened fire on the responding officers and was shot and killed.

Big Joe lost his mind. Convinced that the government had ordered his eldest son’s assassination, he went deep into hiding, secluding himself and several other Militia members in the Arkansas wilderness. David refused to accompany them, and instead packed his bags and moved in with his grandfather. When he turned 19 he got a small place of his own up in the Boston mountains, a particularly rugged section of the Ozarks, in Boone County, Arkansas. He’s lived there ever since, making ends meet by working as a mechanic in the nearby town and helping his neighbors with whatever needs doing.

When he was 21 years old Dave met Kaliah Freeman, a law student at the University of Arkansas in Fayetteville. Her car had broken down, and he helped her get it running again and managed to snag her number. She was attracted to his rugged mountain-man lifestyle and his love of nature, he to her brilliant mind and eagerness to make a difference in the world. Ultimately, though, the shine wore off and Kaliah found that she couldn’t reconcile her more liberal bent with his gun-loving survivalist streak, and the two parted ways amicably.

Their short-lived romance resulted in the birth of their son, Malcolm Daniel Freeman, named for Malcolm X and Dave’s grandfather. David fell in love all over again, and has since endeavored to be the father he wishes he’d had growing up. A gentle, loving man, rather than the iron-hard Drill Instructor who’d been out to raise soldiers instead of sons.

Since Mal’s birth Dave has spent every weekend that he could with the boy. It was on one of their many camping trips that he first encountered the darkness, finding a black stone altar deep in the mountains surrounded by the severed heads of goats and pigs. He reported his findings and ended up accepting an offer to work with Delta Green. Despite his dislike of the federal government, he does what he does because he believes it to be the only way to keep his son safe from the evil that he now knows lurks in the shadows.

As a result of his upbringing, David has taken great pains to distance himself from bigotry in general and racism in particular. He’s laid-back to the point of being described as “stoner-esque” and has a tendency to just go with the flow of whatever is happening around him. Drinking beer, listening to music, and wrenching on his truck are his favorite pastimes, and he learned early on that the same mouth that used to regularly earn him “disciplinary workouts” and even outright beatings can instead be used to gain the trust and friendship of those he works with.

While he enjoys spending time with his friends, he is equally fond of solitude, taking time out in the mountains to “recharge”. He often disappears for days or even weeks at a time, wandering his favorite ranges, living off the land and hunting out of season, and has become a survival expert. If there’s one man you can drop into the wilderness with nothing but a knife and expect to see again, it would be Dave.

He has little regard for the laws of the United States, preferring instead of rely on his own sense of morality. He doesn’t steal, not because it’s illegal, but because it’s wrong. If he’s hungry, he hunts, licenses and seasons be damned. He sees no problem with killing for food, and believes it to be morally acceptable and different from poaching for a trophy. His childhood has given him an iron will, the ability to push through pain and adversity.

When it comes to things like drug use, Dave is of two minds: on the one hand, he doesn’t believe it’s anybody’s right to tell someone else what they can put into their own body. However, he also considers hard drugs to be a crutch, and personally abstains. A bit of marijuana or a drink or three is fine, in moderation, but he doesn’t like to lose control of his senses or inhibitions.

Dave’s main focus in life is his son, Malcolm. He spends almost every weekend with the boy, teaching him about nature, taking him on long hikes through the Ozarks. Despite the reservations of Malcolm’s mother, he has also started teaching his son how to shoot.

Ava stands at a small 5’3, she has a slender build with little to no muscle. She has no tattoos and the only piercings she has are those in the lobes of her ears.

At the age of 2, Ava was found, abandoned on a backcountry road in West Virginia. She was uninjured, but a little malnourished and with no sign of who left her there. Months of trying to locate her family, any family, turned up nothing and so she became a ward of the state.

As luck would have it, it wasn’t long until she was adopted by a Rhode Island couple; Zach and Louise Moore. Zach was a surgeon and general physician at Miriam Hospital and his wife Louise was a professor of Anthropology and Archeology for Brown University. The two could not have children of their own and had been on the waiting list for years to adopt a child. To say they had been over the moon when they got the news they could bring a child home would be an understatement.

The child was brought home and named Avaline Margaret Moore, Ava for short.

Louise’s parents, salt to the earth working class people, were likewise excited to have a grandchild and took about spoiling the girl however they could. The ones unexcited with the adoption were Zach’s WASP parents, that didn’t fully consider Ava to be a “real” grandchild. This could not have been more clear than when Zach’s brother and sister both had children and they were allowed to call their paternal grandparents ‘nana’ and ‘papa’ but Ava was regulated to the formal ‘grandmother’ and ‘grandfather’.

This created tension between Zach and his family, tension that was exasperated when, shortly after Ava was adopted; they discovered that she was a gifted child. By the age of 3 she could read and count. By the age of 5 she could multiple and divide.

Perhaps it was an attempt to prove his family wrong, but Zach and Louise eagerly encouraged Ava’s budding talents in math and science. They became laser focused on getting her everything she could possibly need to be an academic powerhouse. So focused in fact that they forgot to allow Ava the chance to be a normal child.

She didn’t go to regular elementary school as she tested too high for the grades. Instead she had tutors and the only real social interaction with her own age group came with her cousins from her aunt and uncle. The only break in her study that she received was when she went to her maternal grandparents, ‘grammy’ and ‘gramps’, house for weekend visits. There they put the books away, gave her crayons and paper to draw, let her watch mindless cartoons and took her to parks and zoos.

Ava had such fun with her grandparents that she didn’t even mind when they would take her to church on Sundays. While other kids her age squirmed and nodded off, Ava enjoyed listening to the choir sing and admired the stain glass windows, but mostly she loved not having to do school work.

When she started having night terrors at the age of 8, Ava’s parents realized that maybe they had been pushing the girl too hard, too quickly. They cancelled the tutors and tried enrolling Ava in a private elementary school, to interact with children her own age.

This...did not help. Ava was branded weird by the rest of her peers and bullied regularly while also finding the classes boring and unchallenging. This resulted in her acting out in frustration at the teacher, which lead to many parent/teacher conferences and put a brief strain on her parent’s marriage on how to solve the issue. The night terrors seemed to worsen when she was enrolled in school and so she was taken back out and returned to her private tutors.

The night terrors subsided shortly after she went back to her private studies and her parents thought she had simply grown out of them. When she was 10 years old, Ava was invited to attend MIT for her gifted intelligence and her parents rented a home near the university for Ava to live in with her retired grammy and gramps during the fall and spring semesters.

College had been a difficult experience for Ava. Not because of the work, she enjoyed learning so much about math, science and technology. But because of the social aspect. She was a ten year old among students that were twice her age. She didn’t feel like a person when talking to them, more like an oddity to be pointed at and whispered about. This lead to her shutting herself off socially and focusing on her studies. The numbers of math and science made sense to her and were easier to understand than the college aged adults around her.

At 13 her night terrors returned and shortly after she was diagnosed with a mild anxiety disorder. Her parents and maternal grandparents wanted her to quit college but she fought them and insisted on completing her education; mostly because at the time, she didn’t know what to do outside of going to school and studying. After much arguing her parents allowed her to continue attending college, much to the protest of her maternal grandparents. She was given medication for her anxiety and eventually her night terrors went away again.

Ava went on to earn her doctorate and an engineering degree by the time she was 18 years old. Shortly after she was snatched up by Booz Allen Hamilton for a job in the field of cyber security. By the age of 24 she had worked her way up to the point of earning a government contract with the CIA through her company and a high level of Security Clearance.

However, two years ago, a seemingly inconsequential encounter occurred that would sharply change the direction her life would be taking.

One fine fall morning, Ava was running errands when she stopped outside a grocery to give a homeless man some change. She hadn’t even looked at his sign, but when she tried to walk away he spoke to her:

“How do you sleep?”

She had stopped and looked back at him.

He lifted his head and a pair of eyes that would haunt the back of her mind for the next two years looked back at her. He had smiled at her, a smile that had seemed too large for a human face to make. “I said, how do you sleep, girl?” He had asked again with an eerie chuckle.

Disturbed, Ava went inside the store, found a security guard and told him about the unsettling man. When the guard went outside however, he found no sign of the man she described. It had only been five minutes, not long enough for him to disappear without someone seeing him at least running off.

Shaken and confused, Ava dropped the issue and continued about her day.

That night however, she was plagued with the worst nightmares she had ever experienced. She heard chanting in a language she didn’t understand, saw flashes of symbols and mutilated and rotting corpses on pitch black slabs. It was a nightmare she couldn’t awaken from, no matter how hard she tried; it felt like it would never end.

Thankfully it had ended, but when Ava woke up she found herself on the floor of her bedroom with a marker from her desk in her hand. A marker that had been used to cover her walls in graphic drawings of mutilated corpses on black stones and the symbols from her nightmare.

She requested leave from work, but due to the nature of her job, when she took this sudden leave with no explanation; it raised questions. She tried to hide what happened, but she was never a good liar to regular people, against people who were trained for decades to sniff out the smallest hint of a falsehood, she had no chance.

She revealed what happened, showed the Agents from the government what she had drawn in her sleep and expected to be caught in a big butterfly net and tossed into a mental hospital. And she’d be fired of course.

To her shock, she hadn’t been fired, but instead transferred to the CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia and attached to a mysterious government entity known simply as The Program. She still did some work for the CIA, but her contract now belonged to a branch of Federal investigation that she didn’t fully understand. Over the course of her two years with The Program, she pieced together a few theories, but they were theories her science addled mind didn’t want to explore.

Nor what, if any, she had to do with it.

Ava is not the best with people. Outside of talking to them about work, codes or tech, she never knows quite what to say and tends to let others do the talking; so she’s learned over the years to be a great listener. She isn’t cold though, she does have empathy and feels for others and is capable of forming deep bonds with friends and family; it just takes her a little longer to get comfortable around new people.

When she does open up, people find her to be warm, considerate with a surprisingly silly sense of humor. She isn’t much of a chatterbox even when she does open up, but there is a noticeable shift in her body language and expressions from a reserved, shy girl that is unsure of herself to someone that is comfortable, a little more confident and noticeably happy to be around another person.

Zach and Louise Moore - Her parents, she loves them dearly, even though sometimes she questions their choices in how they raised her. (Bond 5)

Grammy and Gramps - Her grandparents and the people she is the closest with as her childhood memories are filled with nothing but fun, love and easy times. (Bond 5)

Mrs. Diane Grier - Her next door neighbor and her closest friend. (Bond 5)

Agent Stark - Work Associate, The Program Agent she reports to the most within the CIA HeadQuarters.

Donnelley: Her team lead, a figure of steadfast confidence and strength, but also one of surprising comfort and laughs even when things are serious or grim. He is not the BEST influence, logically speaking, but his mentorship and example has brought out a fire in Ava she was unaware she had. (Bond 5)

Laine: A source of guidance to Ava, when she feels things are spiraling, Laine offers a steadying hand. Their relationship is not without their own banter and quips though, an almost sisterly like bond that Ava hasn’t held with anyone before. (Bond 5)

Dave: An unexpected attraction from an unlikely source, in some ways Dave and Ava could not be more different, but in others they seem like a well fitted match. Dave makes Ava feel that sense of girlish excitement new intimacy can bring, but more than anything he makes her feel safe. (Bond 5)

Her Night terrors - They had settled down since the incident two years ago, but she still has the occasional nightmare of the memories that even her medication can’t make go away.

The Man With Inhuman Eyes - Ava is terrified of seeing this man again and is paranoid of him stalking her, though she hasn’t seen him since the one time he spoke to her.

No Control - What disturbed Ava the most of her incident, was that she had no control over her own body and didn’t even remember getting out of bed to draw on her walls. She can accept having no control in how life works, life was chaotic with limitless variables that can affect it, but when it comes to her being robbed of her own bodily autonomy, she becomes terrified.

The Unknown - Once upon a time, Ava looked to the Unknown with great curiosity and saw nothing but endless potential, potential that could be discovered and explained with rational and logical application of science. That there exists an Unknown that can’t be explained with her understanding of the application of science and the natural world makes her break into a cold sweat. That she might have some tie to that Unknown, scares her even more.

STRENGTH: 3 ( , Active Wound)
DEXTERITY: 4 ( , Active Wound)
STAMINA: 7 ( , Active Wound)
BUREAUCRACY: 3
INTELLIGENCE: 8
WILLPOWER: 8
SAN: 40 (Breaking Point, 32)

Gifted(+8): Computer Science | SIGINT | Science (Mathematics)
Adept(+6): Engine Mechanics | Accounting | Craft (Microelectronics) | Awareness
Average(+4): Anthropology | Archeology | History | Marksmanship (handguns)
Novice(+2): Hand to Hand | Persuade | Subterfuge | Forensics | Law (Cyber)

Special Training:
Art (Drawing/Painting) (INT)
Detecting Electrical Sabotage (INT)

Name: Dr. William Overman

Age: 55

Gender: M



Agency: March Technologies, Senior Science Adviser for Special Projects

Education: Grew up on a ranch in Emigrant, Montana. Transferred to Yale as an undergraduate & graduated with a dual degree in physics & philosophy. Recruited from MIT PhD program by CIA at age 25. Paraphysics "Weapon" R&D for CIA for 12 years, before leaving in 2002 to join newly formed March Technologies.



Personality: Calm, sardonic, amiable and easy going on the surface, fairly ruthless underneath.

Family, Friends, and Associates: Wife, Alyssa, of 20 years. One son, Arthur, 15 years old.

Likes: Nietzsche, Schopenhauer, Bach, St. Augustine's Confessions, Cabernet Franc, Dry Martinis, & mid-town Manhattan, where he lives, because you can't see the stars there.

Dislikes: the night sky

Fears: What he knows is out there & what he suspects he doesn't know.

STRENGTH: 2
DEXTERITY: 2
STAMINA: 2
BUREAUCRACY: 3
INTELLIGENCE: 5
WILLPOWER: 6

Skills:
Gifted(+5): Xeno/Mythos archeology, Applied Hypergeometry
Adept(+4): Interrogation, Persuade, Mythos History
Average(+3): Handguns, Psychology, Anthropology
Novice(+2): First Aid, Awareness

Weaknesses: No real skills at hand to hand combat. Subject to intense migraines. Arrogance.

Operational Clothing/Equipment:
Clothing: Dark field jacket, shirt, jeans, hiking boots (off-duty: usually blazer, button down and jeans)
Weapons: Glock 19, fold-able utility knife.
Tools/Equipment: Al-Hazred's Verses (worn, black-bound book, ~300 pages); the Dreamer's Ring; locked metal valise with spell-regents and related materials; MarchTech microbead comms; MarchTech corporate laptop.

Name: Joseph Donnelley

Last Name Alias (CIA): Joseph Blaine

Past Aliases: Sr Special Agent John Davidson, FBI CCRSB
Vasily Isaev

Age: 43

Gender: Male

Height/Weight: 6’/193

Appearance:

Not what most think of when they hear the word 'international spy for the CIA.' Perhaps that's the point all along. Not dashing, not suave, but dark in his way, he stands at an even 6', 193lbs of lean muscle, and always moves deliberately until it's time for action. Two bullet wounds can be seen, paler than the rest of his skin, just under his ribs on his left side. He walks with the slightest limp and grimace whenever signs of rain start to show. His voice has traces of Texan in the words when he isn't trying to mask it and he always speaks in a measured tone. This coupled with his natural deliberate demeanor as well as resting sad-smile'd, kind-eye'd face gives the impression of a stern man, stern but fair.

His blue eyes are nothing if not a little disarming and only adds to the calm air about him. He has had years and years of practice to keep a straight face even when his thoughts are screaming and heart is racing. After all, in the games of life and death that are so common in his line of work, it's at least good if you can fake it until you make it. A team leader should be the last one to tuck tail and panic. A gaunt face with a burn scar that descends down his neck from an accident where his vehicle had been caught on fire somewhere in Chechnya lends a sort of sad air to the man that the endless war against the inevitable has created. Under the smirk, the bonds he creates, everything, he knows one day this life will come to a nasty end for him. It doesn't mean he'll make it easy for the bastards. Like a street dog bearing its teeth at falling bombs.

Agency/Organization: CIA Directorate of Operations, Paramilitary Operations Officer, SAC/SOG Ground Branch, Clearance: Delta Green

Education: A sum of 20 years in the military;82nd ABN, 2-75 Army Rangers, SFAS, then SFQC to earn a place in 5th SFG on a Special Forces CIF Team. 8 years as CIA SAC/SOG Ground Branch PMO.

Background: Joseph Donnelley joined the Army when he was eighteen, a young whippersnapper and son of a motorcycle mechanic, out of Texas with a need to prove to himself that he could be more than what he was. He always figured that the Army would be his only way out of the shithole town he'd lived in in rural West Texas. Being one of only a very small group of kids that liked skateboarding and angry music instead of standing around and listening to country in a parking lot had seen him getting into a fair few scraps in his time, only serving to toughen him up even moreso when his father wasn't around to do it himself. It was because of his father's alcoholism and uncontrolled PTSD from his tours in Vietnam that had seen Joseph embarking on his early life of drugs, crime, and rotten debauchery rather than stay home. Eventually this all culminated into him joining a Hardcore Crew, what amounted to the Hardcore Punk scene's motorcycle clubs and street gangs. It would take him the loss of his best friend to a drive-by shooting in Dallas and his girlfriend overdosing on heroin that had him finally realizing his plans of joining the military.

His initial four-year contract being up, in which he attended the US Army Airborne School, he returned to his small Texas town to become a Sheriff's deputy with a hard head and an even harder ass, apparently. It was around this time that he became known endearingly as Robocop among the town kids, with which he always tried to maintain a rapport with. He was famous in his little Texas town for being Sherriff Gracy's golden boy, trying to clean up the county on his lonesome. Around this time he'd met a girl named Holly French, and as they say, the rest is history. Though, his reputation as a risk-taking, motivated individual was obviously not what a small town Sheriff's department needed, and so after only two years as a Deputy he re-enlisted at the behest of Sheriff Gracy and a couple of his friends, promising to Holly that he would stay safe.

This time around, Joseph had an easier go of things, but Joseph had a reputation for proving to himself that he could be more than he was. He attended RIP, the Ranger Indoctrination Program, and passed with colors. He spent these four years as a US Army Ranger and was deployed to Afghanistan following the onset of the War on Terror, in which he knew that the promise made to Holly was now out of his hands and right into God's own. He took part in fifty raids over the course of two combat rotations, assisting Green Beret ODAs, SEAL teams and Delta Force on an extremely high OpTempo. He reenlisted directly after his four years were up and requested a slot in SFAS, in which he again struggled through the grueling two-year selection process and spent the following 4 years in Washington, his new home, with the 5th Special Forces Group deployed to Afghanistan.

On one fateful day, CIA spook William Long would arrive at his isolated FOB nestled in the Afghan mountains. The briefing told him that his ODA and the ANA they'd gathered around themselves would be helping William carry out his mission of making contact with one Bazir al-Khalwadi, a tribal leader among the reclusive Wadi clan. The specifics of this mission were not told to Special Forces Intelligence Sergeant Joseph Donnelley, but like any good soldier, he did what needed doing. The section of Joseph Donnelley’s dossier dealing with this operation is highly classified, but Donnelley knew they had illegally crossed the Pakistani border by the time they had found their target. Nestled in the tribal areas of northern Pakistan, they found the village and the asset. From his binoculars, he saw them dancing around him, heard the faint sounds of their singing and chanting and screaming, the cacophony somehow making his head hurt even from such a distance. What was worse was he felt like he was starting to understand it more the longer they watched through their binoculars.

He saw the Pakistani chief tied down to a block of stone so black almost as to be made of void itself. He saw them put the knife to Bazir's throat and saw the man's neck open. He saw them butcher his corpse and paint with his blood. Long read off coordinates and a glint in the sky showed the speck high above them, a predator drone. Two missiles leveled that tiny village and made a crater of the mountainside it was on. They trekked back to the FOB, not speaking of what they saw. He couldn't sleep though, he could've swore he saw that block of stone start to change shape, bending and warping just enough to be noticed before dust and rocks and carnage flew up from the initial impact of that first Hellfire. Ask Joseph about his time in Afghanistan and he will harden up, wishing they didn't stop at just two of the big bombs. “If it were up to me, those mountains would be bombed to sand.”

He came back to Washington a changed man. The Army may have made him more serious, more “mature”, but that operation in the Pakistani mountains made him distant and cold. At least, that's the way Holly put it to him. He began to grow increasingly violent with each night where sleep was somewhere far off and away. Holly put it in no uncertain terms that she was leaving after an incident at their daughters' school led to him having to be escorted off the premises by school security. He came under fire from his NCOIC and was told that if he didn't shape up, he would no longer find any place among the ODAs. He said the promise, the words left his mouth, but they were hollow. With Holly gone, he turned to the bottle most nights.

In 2010, his enlistment would be up. He wasn't as bothered now by what he saw in the Pakistani mountains those years ago, chalking it up to everything from the stresses of the long march and witnessing the brutal display before him to simply the heat radiating off the rocks morphing the scene in his binoculars. Even so, he still has to take his medication some nights, and he still might drink and think and fool himself one more time. Those gibbering chants and screams would haunt his dreams, and on those nights, he refused to sleep. Dreams brought him back there, and back there was a place he never wanted to go. But, a quiet and peaceful life was not what he was searching for either. He was approached by CIA recruiters and has been involved with clandestine operations in Eastern Europe, North Africa and Central Asia- with a very specific personal request that he stay away from operations that would take him to Pakistan. In 2017, his home a dingy apartment in Turkey and office-space a warehouse being used as a CIA blacksite for less-than-legal interrogations, he was called back stateside for the first time in seven years, where he was told he would once again be working with Case Officer Steve Foster for the first time since Somalia- his first one of many operations under the cases with clearance level “DELTA GREEN.” The prospect does not delight him.

Personality: Joseph grew up in the good ol' countryside of West Texas to an alcoholic, 'Nam vet father and a mother too scared to leave but too timid to defend herself. Joseph vowed that he would make something of himself and not end up like his Vietnam-vet father. That thick shell of spite and anger propelled him like a bullet through a life of hard partying and, later on, high-risk careers.

Now though, at the creaky age of 43, he's starting to feel the years in his joints. The mind is still there, albeit tempered by years of experience in the Rangers and the Green Berets, but the mind wanders to old places at times. He's still ready and able to kick doors or interrogate targets, and has never had qualms with bending the rules to get the right guy or achieve the objective. The way he sees it, you can't ask a man to live with the pigs and expect him to not get muddy. The law smiles on means, he smiles on results. With his time in the CIA to foster an even darker and unfettered side of this rule-bending he so loved to justify, he no longer attaches any pretense of a “just war.” With the things he's seen, he knows there is only one right thing and one wrong thing in a war, especially this one- it is good to win and it is wrong to lose.

Despite this, so to speak, he imagines Sisyphus happy. He knows that if it isn't him doing this dirty work to keep humanity living blissfully ignorant to the truth of just how close to doom they are, it would just be somebody else. That just wouldn't do any good, though, he doesn't trust anybody else with this burden.

When nervous situations arise, he may respond by trying at bits of odd humor. It was always a good practice to try to laugh before an operation and he keeps that as a tradition to this day. After a very long time both in the service and the agency, the man behind the shell of spite and anger has been starting to peek through the cracks and gouges. He shakes hands with rebel leaders and crooked generals, he wears smiles in the boardrooms as easily as frowns in the interrogation rooms. The world may need bad men, but the side of him that isn't devoted to the agency wished he made friends more and yearns for the old days of the ODAs and the Ranger Battalions. Wished he was a better father, wished he was a better husband. Wished he would've punched his father and hugged his mother more. Anyhow, he's here now, nothing to do but the mission.

Family, Friends, and Associates: Holly and Tilly Greer, formerly Donnelley, Ex-wife and child. Divorced and re-married to some pencil pusher in a cubicle. Only contact is through email following up on child support payments. Estranged from daughter. (Bond 6)

Hank Gracy, Former Sheriff of Donnelley’s hometown and the surrounding county, as well as former colleague when Joseph was a Deputy. Still send emails to each other every now and then and he attended Gracy’s wife’s funeral. The closest thing he had to a good father for years. (Bond 6)

His motorcycle, an Indian Chief Cruiser given to him by his father in an effort to make up for a childhood of abuse. One of the few things he was allowed to keep after his divorce. (Bond 6)

His DG Team. (Bond 6)

Likes: Quiet nights bonding with his team, sunsets, campfires, different landscapes, experiencing different cultures, skateboarding, metal and hardcore punk, 80s/90s gangster rap

Dislikes: The unnatural, abusers of any kind, bureaucrats, corrupt leaders, weak leaders, hypocrisy

Fears: Joseph's only family he knows now are the teams he's placed with. No matter how long it takes, he will bond with them over something, and they will start to like each other at best or have a grudging respect at worst. Either way, his biggest fear is the day he fails them. Walks them into an ambush, causes their death due to his incompetence, watches them being swallowed slowly by the maddening things some cruel universe permits or is helpless in letting exist.

He also fears going mad himself, a bullet kept in a safe place just for that day. He knows it will come for him one day, if the things he fights don't get to him first. He's seen it happen to many in his line of work, but seeing it so many times hasn't dulled the sharp pain from each one.

He knows that his daughter is out there somewhere, his wife with a better man. Both of them part of a family he will never get to see and with smiles he now can only get from them in memories. He has access to the world's most advanced database and every mean on the planet to find them. But seeing them happy, no, letting them see him as he is now. It would kill him just as cruelly as the things he's put down.

He’s also existentially terrified of the day that Delta Green fails. The one defeat snuffing out a line of victories, and that’s all they’ll need. He wishes he could be an atheist, wishes he could pray to a God. But he knows God is real. He’s coming back. And Joseph is going to be waiting for him with a gun.

The last bullet kept for himself.

STRENGTH: 6(5, Active Wound)
DEXTERITY: 4(3, Active Wound)
STAMINA: 6(5, Active Wound)
BUREAUCRACY: 5
INTELLIGENCE: 6
WILLPOWER: 6
SAN: 30 | 24

ACTIVE WOUNDS:
Gunshot wound - Ribs (30AUG2019 - 13SEP2019)
-1 STAMINA
-1 STRENGTH
-1 DEXTERITY

Skills:
Gifted(+8): Awareness | Marksmanship, Long Guns | Marksmanship, handguns
Adept(+6): SERE | Hand-to-Hand | Interrogation | Military Science - Land
Average(+4): Tactical Driving | Subterfuge | HUMINT | Persuade
Novice(+2): Craft - Electrician | Breaking-and-Entering | SIGINT | Computer Science | Engine Mechanics

Languages:(Arranged from Fluent - Rudimentary) Pashto, Urdu, Turkish

Special Training:
Parachuting/Military Freefall (DEX)
Black Markets (INT)
Deep Knowledge of Subculture - Islamic Extremism (INT)
Ride - Horse (DEX)

Weaknesses: Unscrupulous – Once on the job, his personality makes him almost single-minded in completing the mission, no matter the lengths to which he must go. This has put him at ends with foreign agencies multiple times, as well as many a missed meal and sleepless night.

Insomnia – He has night terrors some nights if he goes to bed without taking his medication.

Slight depression/PTSD - His experiences in Delta Green have left something of an impression upon him. Because of this, some nights he drinks and thinks until he sleeps.

Aches & Pains – He lost a small bit of flexibility in his left ankle, as well as right shoulder from breakage. He won't be running six minute miles anytime or lifting logs over his head, but he can still pull a trigger and push a sewing needle under someone's fingernails when kind gestures don't work.

ADAPTATIONS:
Violence: ADAPTED (Violence - Inflicted. Takes minimum SAN loss for every SAN roll related to harming or killing others.)
Helplessness:

Off-Duty Clothing/Equipment:
Clothing: Band t-shirt or shirt of neutral color and zip-up or pullover hoodie w/o obvious branding, jeans/5.11 tactical pants in neutral color, sneakers or low-profile ankle boots/hiking shoes. May or may not don his Thrasher cap.

For more official looks, he usually keeps it business casual- neutral tone polos, chinos, oxfords, leather belt. If he absolutely must, he does keep a fitted suit.
Weapons: He carries a folding knife and an FN FNH40 in IWB or OWB holster depending on clothing layers.
B&T MP45, .45cal MP9 variant, suppressor attached when necessary, small visible laser, Aimpoint micro.

On very special visits to lucky people, he carries a B&T VP9 Manually Operated 9mm pistol in addition to the above.
Tools/Equipment: A wallet with fabricated ID and/or legal identification if his possession of that doesn’t breach OpSec. 300 dollars in the local currency. A leatherman multi-tool. Pen light. Notepad and pen. Ziptie handcuffs, 4.
Misc.: His medication, a pack of cigarettes, 3 lighters, a seemingly neverending flask of bourbon, communications earpiece, bluetooth headset connected to his encrypted team smartphone.

Operational Clothing/Equipment:
Clothing: In urban areas, he dons a black or band t-shirt with jeans and low-profile ankle boots or simple Adidas sneakers. Black Mechanix gloves, balaclava, plate carrier w/ Lvl lV plates w/ “NIGHT TIME IS THE RIGHT TIME” morale patch, lightweight high-cut ballistic helmet or his Thrasher cap depending on where the current outing falls on the sliding scale of stakeout to shitshow. Black pullover hoodie if things get chilly. Wouldn't be complete without a sleek pair of shades.

In non-urban environments, he wears clothing with tiger-stripe or A-TACS camo patterns befitting the environment.

Weapons: A Q Honey Badger with an angled foregrip, Aimpoint micro and a PEQ infrared/visible laser, flashlight, suppressor attached when needed with subsonic ammunition, single-point sling, PDW or carbine length barrel depending on expected distance of engagements.

OR

AK104 carbine equipped with modified picatinny barrel shroud for more mounting options, folding stock, angled foregrip, Aimpoint micro, PEQ IR/visible laser, flashlight, suppressor attached when needed

Serbu Super Shorty 12 gauge shotgun, ‘DYNAMIC ENTRY’ scratched into the barrel, breaching loads or buckshot.

An FN FNH40 or Steyr M9 kept in duty holster

Fixed blade knife. 4 flashbang grenades. 4 fragmentation grenades.
Tools/Equipment: NVGs, flashlight, pen flares, and chemlights for when night time is the right time. Leatherman multi-tool, ziptie handcuffs, 10.
Misc.: Maps of the area, a compass, markers, pens, first aid equipment, a pack of cigarettes, two-way comm headset/earpro. Laptop or tablet cleared for TS/SCI/DG. MBITR radio with 5590 battery for longer range and power.

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Alias/Callsigns: Switch, Anne L. Malowitz, Priscilla West
Age: 30
Gender: F
Appearance:
5'6", 130lbs, Hzl/Blk
Fair skinned Afghan. Nimble and fit from mountain warfare. Modest musculature. Several small moles on her body. Burn scar in her right palm. She speaks with a confident mellifluous tone. Speaks english clearly with a very mild middle-eastern accent. Thick locks of shoulder length hair, usually bunched in a short pony tail or loose when off-duty.

Agency/Organization: Former CIA project RED BULB asset in Afghanistan Regional Command East. Billeted as an Intelligence Officer under the CIA Directorate of Operations.

Education: Biased 3rd-world Primary education. RED BULB training program. Secondary education through Kazakh-Afghan education program. Partnered with University of Maryland, studied Linguistic Anthropology and english. CIA satellite paramilitary operations training.







Likes: Lounging, singing and dancing (especially to played out western music), the ocean, dates (the fruit), tea, artisanal bread.

Dislikes: Religious/Political extremists, child exploitation and abuse, drugs, putting out, ice-cold beverages, first-world problems.

Fears: Overcoming the denial of her child's fate, further, discovering what happened. When experiencing children suffering or feeling a lack of control over her choices, she is filled with anxiety. Bajbala disassociates and becomes irritable, until she can be alone where she pours out her emotions. It ever haunts her even though it has been years. She had just become a mother and failed so quickly. Was she to blame? Did she do everything in her power or did she just give him up?

Weaknesses: She's not exceptionally strong and has minimal hand-to-hand training. Bajbala suffers from anxiety when facing sensitive and cruel situations with children. Sometimes enough to put her into a fit of rage or tremors.

Adaptations:
Violence:
Harmless:

STRENGTH: 3
DEXTERITY: 8
STAMINA: 6
BUREAUCRACY: 3
INTELLIGENCE: 6
WILLPOWER: 7
SANITY/BRKPNT: 35/28

Skills:
Gifted(+8): Subterfuge, Handguns, Persuade
Adept(+6): HUMINT, Anthropology, SERE, Awareness
Average(+4): MilSci-Land, Demolition, Break-and-Enter, SIGINT
Novice(+2): Long Guns, First aid, Forensics, Archaeology, Hand-to-hand
Language: Pashto, English (fluent), Russian (intermediate), Arabic (rudimentary).

Specialised Skills:
Guerrilla tactics (or/on Targeted Elimination) (DEX)
Small charge IED employment (DEX)
Human Terrain Mapping (INT)
Linguistic Anthropology (INT)

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Name: Heather Laine, Phd| FBI SSA
Age: 34, born January 30 1985

Gender: Female

Appearance: 5’8’’, 140lbs, an attractive woman with an hourglass build, fit but not quite athletic; black hair that is short and straight, cut in a bob with bangs. She usually wears black or gray, generally fitted knee length skirts and high heels when in the office, slacks and flats when in the field, she carries a pair of Doc Martens in her car just in case she is needed in an actual field. Her green eyes gleam with intelligence and subtle wit. Naturally pale, she avoids the sun like she owes it money.

A few tattoos include a bat in black ink on her right upper chest/shoulder and a death's head moth on the upper left. A few others on her shoulders to be listed as I think of them but always covered in professional settings.

Agency/Organization:FBI, former special agent, now a profiler with the Behavioral Analysis Unit and works as a consultant to both private and other law enforcement teams.

Education:PhD in forensic psychology earned at University of California, Irvine; minor in social anthropology 2003-2010, Training at Quantico, FBI academy 2010-2011

Career
2011 - 2013: Los Angeles, field office in the Child Exploitation and Human Trafficking Task Force (CEHTTF) and then serving on a Child Abduction Rapid Deployment (CARD) team
2013 - 2014 FBI liaison with Violent Crimes Against Children International Task Force which teams up with Interpol and other international law enforcement to combat international child exploitation focused on cyber crime.
2014 - current, requested transfer to BAU in Virginia went through though she was assigned at first to Unit 3 involving violent serial crimes against children due to her past experience but within 9 months her lateral transfer to Unit 4 which focuses on violent serial crimes against adults was approved and has been there ever since. She works as a profiler, connecting with local and state police to assist in developing a profile of an unknown suspect for certain murders that fit a criteria.

Background: Laine always had an interest in people, not so much to know them but to know how they worked. She was not a gregarious girl but affable enough to be able to make and forget friends quickly. She was the weird kid dressed in black and that never really left her. Instead it has matured into a quick, sharp intelligence that picks up nuances in behavior and body language. There is an air of detachment, both from her childhood as a loner in a crowd and her profession.

Her mother was a B movie actress, Lila Laine and made a decent amount of horror and campy films in the 1980s that required a pretty face. While marriage and children ended that short career, it remains her source of pride and regret. A woman who displays narcissistic tendencies and an insatiable love of being ‘helpful’ with her advice and observations. She pushed Laine to do things in school such as dance, drama, etc which at the time she resented but did come to enjoy, in particular theatre club. She is proud of both her children though it tends to come off more of what attention it brings her.

Her father, Henry Laine, is a construction engineer, a kind and encouraging man but often absent while working on projects.He is considering retirement but his wife’s spending habits and constant source of criticism has made him delay that. Henry doted on his children, in particular his first born. Laine is her father’s daughter, her memories full of him taking her to see everything from museums to attending various religious services to expose her to culture and the world as he could. Henry enjoys building and painting miniatures and fantasy novels, he is a very big fan of anything Tolkien and Prachett. His nickname for Laine growing up was “Evenstar” after the character Arwen in Lord of the Rings.

Henry is now supporting his aging father Oskari Laine, who is an old grumpy immigrant from Finland, a cold man who warms only for his grandchildren. Currently living in a nursing home as he could not stand living in the same house with ‘that woman’, referring to Lila.

Her younger brother, Roy Laine, is a computer engineer specializing in software and writing custom programs for testing cyber security. He is what might be called a white hat hacker but works now for a large company that has contracts with the US Govt. He is married to Jeanne, his college sweetheart and they have two children, 4 year old Aiden and 6 year old Elli.

The Laines moved a few times but never far from Los Angeles. Her birth and first years were in Van Nuys but grew up in Torrance, a home of surfers and beach culture but her interest and social life in highschool lay in the concrete ditches and shabby punk clubs that sprung up in the grimy borderlands between the crime ridden gang filled neighborhoods and the well off middle class. She maneuvered the social scene as an outsider from a middle class family and ended up hanging out with punks and skinheads, ska kids and goths, the other outsiders. Her first love and first broken heart came from a boy with a blue mohawk who was in a band. Her best friend and the group drifted away after highschool but she treasures the memories of those innocent times.

At 14 years old, Laine was at a beach party at night and went for a walk under the pier, listening to the tide and only had a small penlight to guide herself over rocks when she tripped and found herself face first on the corpse of a missing girl. There had been posters of her all over the beaches and neighborhoods, a young teen taken off the streets. It had been a sensational tragedy. The experience haunted her, not just the shock of finding a dead girl but how it was being handled. She kept tabs on the case, it went unsolved but a few other crimes similar occurred in a decade span in the popular beach area and the unnamed killer was dubbed the Redondo Beach Butcher though only two of the five murder victims were found on Redondo Beach. Then the victims stopped being found and the fear faded into memory. Heather did not forget and kept a secret scrapbook of the crimes, her mother flipping out the first time she caught her clipping articles about such graphic crimes.

College It was only during college and her psychology training did she understand why she was like this, her attachment issues and fear of rejection. She had built walls made of emotional scars from her mother’s passive aggressive and overly critical parenting and she had worked to bring them down with the right people. She has few that she would call close friends, those now distant since they are married and starting families while she is still single. All except her best friend, her sister from another mister, Mariana Jones. They both majored in forensic psychology, they competed against and supported each other through college and the rigours of the UC PhD program.

She went through boyfriends but never found anyone that she wanted to be around longer than six months and remained single after graduation and going on to join the FBI. Laine learned quickly about the hazards of dating in the office pool so tried to keep her social life apart from work but as she progressed in her career she found it hard to connect beyond the physical with anyone outside the law enforcement/investigation fields.

When it comes to her sexuality, Laine is not afraid of expressing herself or having short term relationships for the physical aspects only. Her longest relationship was a three year stint with a forensic pathologist from Maryland, Dr. Alex Bakker. It ended when they could not find a way to reconcile that he wanted to get married and start a family and Laine had no interest in doing that, especially not having children. The breakup was mutual and they still maintain a connection due to their professional interest and holding onto what remains of what started as a friendship.

A Brush with the Void She was involved with a case of a missing college student, Sofie Childress, who disappeared one evening, leaving her car unlocked in the parking lot of a coffee shop. Local police got involved and it became clear she had been abducted. Blood stains on the ground told of a struggle and when the call came in about a body found in Olympia National Park, the FBI were called. She was there when the body was discovered and she joined Special Agent Michael Chan and Ranger Tim Blaine investigating the site. The eerie place was oppressive with a strange menace that unnerved everyone, in particular Agent Chan who spent the most time with the body and the strange black stone. He shot himself two days later and Laine was contacted by a stranger with a burner phone and a proposition.

Personality: Professional, pleasant, warm and friendly but not overly so, a subtle wit and genuineness make her affable and most would say that she is a good team member, if stubborn. When she is focused, the world falls away, definitely needs someone watching her six in the field. While she has rejected motherhood, working close with a team she emerges time and again as a team mom type, taking care of needs from making sure they are fed to taking them aside and talking to them to assess their mental and emotional well being.

Old Bonds
Henry Laine, (Bond 6) Her father, quiet and reserved, instilled a work ethic in his children but always made time for them as well. There was a time when Heather thought he would be better off divorced but he told her ‘you don’t give up on those you love.’ For better or worse.

Dr Mariana Jones, PhD (Bond 6)- Her best friend from University who is a psychiatrist with a private practice in San Francisco, they FaceTime from opposite sides of the continent and still go on a shared vacation once a year. Times have changed, Mari recently was married and their time has been strained with the effect of the Program on Laine however she did assist in getting Ava her prescription as a favor.

Dr Alex Bakker, MD (Bond 6) - A close friend and ex boyfriend, recently broken up over the irreconcilable differences about starting a family but she values his honest criticism and support as both friend and colleague as well as his skill in the autopsy room. He did her the favor of performing the autopsy on Maria in West Virginia, swearing secrecy in regards to what he found.

New Bonds Joseph Donnelley, her team lead. A source of leadership, comfort, and occasionally verbal sparring partner. They have grown close since her introduction to the Program and she owes her life a few times over to him.

Skills:
HIT POINTS: 36
STRENGTH: 11
DEXTERITY: 13
STAMINA: 12
BUREAUCRACY: 3
INTELLIGENCE: 17
WILLPOWER: 17
SAN/BREAKING POINT: SAN= 85/68
POWER: 85

Skills:
Gifted(70-80): Psychotherapy 80, HUMINT 85, Forensics 74, Persuade 75
Adept(50-69): Criminology 62, Subterfuge 57, Search 65, Awareness 55
Average(30-49): 4 Marksmanship (handguns) 45, Law 36, Anthropology 35, Tactical Driving 30
Novice(10-29): Unnatural 10, Pharmacy 18, First Aid 29, Hand to Hand 22, Spycraft 22

Languages English, fluent| Russian, fair| Finnish, rudimentary

Special Training:
Art - Acting (participated in theater class high school-college)

ADAPTATIONS: none

Likes: Clove cigarettes, swimming, reading, punk/new wave/post punk and goth music in particular from the late 70s-90s. Black clothes. Sex. Bar shows. Late night deep conversations over coffee. Museums and quirky local attractions.

Dislikes: Her first name. Misogyny, in particular coming from colleagues. Anti-science/alt facts bullshit, people lacking critical thinking skills.

Fears: Failure. Becoming like her mother, overly critical and acidic. Losing herself to the void that comes with the nature of the work she does, before and now with the Program.

Weaknesses: Physical: Not as strong as most in the group, she has a more sedentary job and lifestyle, though maintains fitness through swimming and walking.

Nonphysical: Vanity, imperfect perfectionism, indecisive, detachment, contrary and sometimes unpredictable temper when under stress

Off-Duty Clothing/Equipment: Band t-shirts.Leggings. Whatever it is, it’s usually black.

Clothing: Work is tailored business suits/skirts. With the Program, she now owns tactical gear, listed below. GEAR: Ballistic Helmet, (-1 to soft fail/successful enemy Marksmanship) Plate Carrier, Ceramic Plates, multi-cam (-2 to soft fail/successful enemy Marksmanship) 6.5” hiking boots, dark brown Leggings under OD ripstop pants Fleece jacket, charcoal gray Long sleeve heather gray thermal shirt OD and brown insulated vest for plate carrier 3-Day Survival Pack: Extra thermals and socks, 3 days worth of MREs, compass, flashlight, fire starting kit, insect repellent,3 days worth of water, and a small first aid kit| Utilitarian Folding Knife| switchblade

Weapons: 9mm Glock 19, can of pepper spray, brass knuckles

Tools/Equipment: She has a Samsung Galaxy S10, Surface Laptop, Kindle full of useful texts on psychology, criminology, biology; A pack of Djarum Black clove cigarettes, illegally obtained; a jar of Vicks, a small journal for personal notes, micro recorder, Panasonic Lumix digital camera, Zippo lighter with the Misfit's logo