Requested Position: E5 Sergeant, Squad Leader
Name: Jason Wayne Brock
Date of Birth: 25 Apr 2217
Place of Birth: Wichita, Kansas
Race and Ethnicity: Caucasian
Height: Six feet, two inches (6'2ft)
Weight: Two hundred and ten pounds (210Ibs)
Eye Color: Green
Hair Color: Blonde
22yrs, USCMC Active Duty
- Shrapnel wound to the back, fragments extracted, wound minor, scarring inevitable;
- Minor gas inhalation during operations on Arcturia
- Multiple minor wounds sustained during operations on a foreign colony, further information remains wrapped in red tape.
Jason Wayne Brock is a built hard and tough, a result of years upon years of physical activity both during and prior to his duty in the Colonial Marine Corps. The man is an above average six foot two and grew up on corn bread and taters, his body hardened by years of labor in the fields of the agricultural sections of Kansas. An athletic career through his teens in to his early adulthood furthered his conditioning of both mental and physical toughness. Brock's upper body remains defined and muscular, a trait common among his fellow Colonial Marines, the skin covered in ink illustrating the various stages of life he has encountered in his short twenty-six years in existence. His right shoulder and bicep depict a knight kneeling, his right wrist resting on the pommel of a longsword which is parallel to his body, tip in the ground, black designs wrap the image in a pseudo-shadow, dancing along his collar bone and down his bicep like vines, a banner waves above the knight with 'Isaiah 6:8' written within it, the bottom banner reads, 'Send Me.' The opposite arm and shoulder are covered in a tattoo of similar design, the helmet of a knight wrapped within thick black shadow and shading, the words 'Hotter Than Fire' arching across the top half of his bicep, with 'Harder Than Steel' below, within the chaos of ink is a shield with 'J.W.' printed across the front. His muscular back is decorated with a pair of angel wings, the ink stretching the entirety of his back, just above the top of the wings, across the back of his shoulders is 'Omega' sketched in cursive.
Jason often keeps his dirty blonde hair short and clean with a five o'clock shadow coating his jawline. Brock commonly wears cologne, though in small doses and only noticeable when in close proximity. His favored choice is Stetson, the almost perfect topping to his rough and rugged appearance, whether that is done on purpose, or purely out of habit is left unknown. His teeth remain shined, though his right canine had to be reconstructed after an accident involving alcohol and short tempers. Jason's skin remains tan from years of working under the sun, when space side he can sometimes be found under UV lights so to keep his skin "trained" as he likes to say, to prevent nasty sunburns when dirt side operations arise. This ritual caused him hell among his fellow Marines during his first few years in the Corps.
Despite intimidating appearances, Jason tends to be mild mannered, creating that big guy, soft heart persona. He credits humor as the one thing that keeps his sane during his long deployments aboard the various spacecraft the Colonial Navy as to offer, and it shines through in times of peace and relaxation. Though that doesn't go without saying the big guy doesn't have a temper, in fact, he is cursed with a short fuse, almost flirting with the accusation of bi-polar disorder, but the discipline and wisdom he's gained year by year has helped him learn to manage the "redneck anger" as his old friends use to say.
Things are drastically different when the bullets begin to fly.. Jason has been to Hell and back and isn't afraid to tell you about it. He's seen many things in his years with the Colonial Marines, most of which could drive any lesser man insane. Loss, hopelessness, fear, anger.. It wears on a man, for one mind can only handle so much devastation before it breaks. In combat, he is calm and cool headed, but stern and determined. If he wants something done, you bet your ass it'll get done, or he'll die trying. The safety of his fellow soldiers and the innocent outweigh his own, and Brock will go out of his way to ensure their protection, most likely due to the heavy losses he suffered during his initial years in the Corps, something he is not fond of repeating.
Overall, Jason remains loyal to his inner beliefs and morals, and will rise up when one treads across them; however, he has his own ghosts and demons which rage war within his mind. It is battles like those, that either make, or break a warrior, only time will tell which path Jason Wayne Brock will traverse.
Jason Wayne Brock was born in the agricultural sections of Kansas, zoned to both protect the quickly fading wildlife and to insure continued domestic providing of crops and livestock. He was what some may of called a 'farm boy,' a hundred years ago, but few of those existed now. Though throwing bales of hay wasn't to thank for his physique, but rather his athletic career. Jason was a recognized football player in his hometown, playing both Running Back and Outside Linebacker, which eventually carried him in to Texas Tech on scholarship. The small town favorite played through his Freshman and Sophomore year, where he received some playing time and narrowly avoided the dreaded red shirt. He retained above average grades as a History major with English minor, but the restless redneck felt he needed something more.. For years he had dreamed of the military, the life of a soldier, or Marine, traveling through the galaxy and fighting on the front lines. God it sounded glorious, and full of opportunity and potential. To see things no other would ever see, to go to lengths no other could, the things he could do.. Bishop was fueled by the desire to leave everything behind in the dust and get out of his day-to-day routine (as if playing football on TV wasn't enough).
His athletic career was coming to an end, and academics had begun to bore him. His grades slipped drastically in his first semester as a Junior, as did his performance on the field. It was obvious this young gun had something else on his mind. Much against the will of his family and girlfriend, Jason joined the Colonial Marine Corps the following December, and thus began his career as a chew spittin', cussin' Colonial Marine. Little did he know what awaited him..
Within a year's time he found himself assigned to Omega Company, a group of well trained Colonial Marines who often found themselves at the tip of the spear throughout the galaxy. It wasn't long before he got his first taste of what life was like off planet.. And it wasn't long before he was wishing he'd stayed home.. The first operation, the first time his boots had hit hostile dirt.. Operation Ghost Dance, a name that rings in his nightmares still. This was the first of many, and this was the one that made the boy in to a man. He accelerated through the ranks and gained valuable combat experience in multiple roles, in five years this Marine had been all across the stars and left his mark on them, gun, smoke, and blood, this farm boy was a long ways from home.
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