Gelatinous Cube — Roleplayer Guild

Joseph "Joe" Marrano

Gender
 Male 

Age
 Forty 

Appearance
Joe's general appearance is subject to whatever environment he is operating in at the time.  Seeing that he has found himself dropped into New Orleans against his will he has adopted an appropriate wardrobe.  Lightly coloured cotton and comfortable loafers for his day to day, but he can fit into just about anything if he has to.  He has maintained good fitness despite his age and were it not for the graying of his hair he would pass for younger.  He has a slim, unassuming build that allows him to blend into many environments.

Personality
Joe is an outwardly well balanced and affable man, however like all decent spies he hides much under the surface.  If you knew what to look for you may notice the certain heaviness to his eyes or the way his lip tends to twitch downward as if to reject the very idea of a smile.  However, he is driven by an almost single-minded devotion to his op, tenacious, focused and also loyal to a fault.  That kind of dedication is dangerous, and gives him certain blind spots.  His predisposition to stony patience helped during his early service life as an army sniper, and his voracious straightforwardness made him a hell of a pugilist to boot.

Skills
Marksmanship
Hand-to-hand combat
Subterfuge
Stealth  

Background
Joe was born to a modest blue-collar family in Detroit.  His childhood was marked by periods of depression when he saw the other kids with nicer houses and more loving parents who drove better cars.  He grew to harbor a sense of resentment toward the more affluent people around him and he developed a penchant for petty crime.  It was mostly just petty robberies and the occasional break in, yet his naivety and recklessness got him arrested.  His option was a stint in prison, or join the military.  He was smart enough to pick the latter option.  During that time he was able to leverage his skills acquired from crime to join the Sniper division and served, killed and bled for them until the time of his service came to an end and he made the move into the intelligence community.

His first stint was an easy transition into the Military Intelligence Corps, offered a cushy position away from the field, which served him nicely for a time until he began to feel that itch again.  He wanted more field work, craved the rush of an op too badly to quietly fade away behind a desk.  It took some persistence but eventually he was able to get his foot in the door at the CIA.  With his outstanding record and extensive experience he was granted his wish of proper field work.  For five years he had worked with the Agency, delivering results and relishing the role all the while.  His final (though he did not know it at the time) mission was cut short.  While running ops between Northern Africa and the Middle East on what was supposed to be a routine day of "Emissary" work (posing as a diplomat but trying to gather proof of an enormous drug trade) he was snatched off the street by men in Police uniform.  Whether they were really police or not was anyone's guess, but nobody would have bat an eye at them arresting a white man.  He was taken to a dark cell and worked over for a few hours before passing out.  
Now he's woken up in New Orleans, confused, pissed off and burned.  Had he not served his country well?  Had he not been faithful to the constitution and the tenets of the agency?  He had been close to finding what they wanted, almost had the names of the lynch pins in the drug trade.  Someone wanted him away from it, but not dead.  Just what the hell was going on?
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