Post by Prism on Dec 31, 2009 20:20:51 GMT
Name: Marcus Hall
Gender: Male
Age: 37
Birthday: Febuary 1, 1972
Height: 5'10
Occupation/status: Scientist: Former Forensics, now a Surgeon.
Tests the experiments in his... 'spare time'. Some of these tests can lead to death. Sometimes.
Appearance: Marcus's closet is packed with button-up oxford shirts and thermal shirts. This being because it is all he normally wears. When working in the lab or being casual, he will wear the button-ups, and when going to 'work', or doing his off duty 'job' he will wear the darkly colored (usually brown) thermals. He has mediumtoned brown hair, neatly cut and combed. His face is most always clean shaven, unless he has been working on a big project or under stress. Marcus is bulked, but thin. He isn't a body builder. He hits the gym often.
Not sure what else to put
That's what pictures are for >> Sorryyy D:Build: Muscled torso, not bulging freakishly, but lightly traced muscles on his abdomen. His shirts usually craft to his body to show the muscles in his arms. (Wears thermal shirts when 'off duty')
Personality: Marcus is a fan of dry humor, and seems charing when in his job. It's only when he's killing that he turns homicidal, and easily tipped off. He's sarcastic, and if somebody bugs him he isn't afraid to snap at them.
History/past: Marcus, born in Miami, had lived a normal life with his one year older brother Bryan until he was 5 years old. The two siblings were playing in the yard, being watched over by their young mother, who was just about 21. As all curious children are, Marcus had gotten distracted, and exited the yard. Bryan followed, trying to get his little brother to come back. The mother's name was Layla. She had been distracted, arguing with the father of her children; her ex. When the mother directed her attention back towards her children, she was struck with guilt and fear. They had never lived in a good nnighborhood, only one that they could afford. Rushing after the thin footprints in the dirt, she was lead to an alley; inhabited by only one car. There was a man leaning against it, smirking. She could see her children's faces pressed aginst the windows. Marcus did not know what was going on, he was only being soothed by the rushed voice of Bryan saying "It will all be okay." Layla recognized the man instantly. She owed him money; or some kind of drug. While figuring a tradedgy in her head, three other mencame up behind her, knocking the woman cold. Marcus screamed, only to find himself in the same state as his mother.
When they came to, not only were they sore, especially on the head, but the small family found themselves in some kind of stuffed shipping container. The boys were in a panic, trying to be calmed by their mother. The hatch opened, and four large men walked in, the one in front carrying a chainsaw. Seconds after they had been soothed, the panic began again. The grown men smirked, and one in the back slapped the hatch shut, leaving only a small light above to guide the man. The buzz of the chainsaw filled the compartment, and the boys were shoved away from their mother, muddling together in a corner. They were already bruised. The man with the chainsaw pulled the cord a little more, probably for mocking emphasis. The brothers screamed, and this time their mother did too. But she had a good reason. She was being cut to pieces, right in front of their eyes. And all that was left? Blood. The men exited, satisfying with their work a few hours later. There was no trace evidence, only the tiny pieces of flesh and limbs floating around in what seemed a lake of their own blood. And on their way out, they turned off the light.
It had been days, the two brothers, Marcus and Bryan, sitting in a withdrawn position inthe 'lake'. The were whispering to themselves, hungry, and dying of first. Marcus's mind was running on high speed, even for a five year old. Their clothes were soaked with crimson liquid. Why had mommy died? Why had they been summoned to watch her die? Where was daddy? Did they have a daddy? Why wasn't anybody coming for them? Marcus clutched onto Bryan's hand, his other arm wrapped around his own knees. Outside, they could hear sirens. And voices. How long had it been? Two days? One day? A few hours? It couldn't have been that long- the blood was still in a semi liquid state. They could hear the struggle of men outside, opening the latch. They both squeezed eachother's hands. Was it their turn to die? Sunlight filtered in, leaving the two temporarily blinded. An officer entered, frantic, picking up the younger Marcus. The young boy refused the let go of his brother's hand, until forced to. Why were they being forced apart?! "Marcus! Don't leave me!" echoed out fromthe container where more officers went to retrieve the other child.
Years, decades later. Marcus prepared a kill room, putting plastic everything everywhere, and pictures of people his prey had killed. His prey? Bryan Hall. Apparently Marcus had not ben the only one severly damaged by childhood trauma. But Marcus had a code, taught to him by his step father. Don't get caught, and only killthe bad guys. Of course there was more, but those two were key. Marcus had promised Harry (step father) that only the people who had killed, and would kill again would die. Harry had taught him everything after all. Yes, it antagonized him to kill his brother, but it had to be done. Bryan was becoming a threat to his personal life. After he murdered his own brother, Marcus couldn't bear to kill another person for months. But, everyone gets over something eventually. Marcus was no exception. All he had to do was let those memories go. And that's exactly what he did.
Marcus recieved allof his degrees in collage, being top of his class in medical school, but trading it for blood spatter. He was a whiz at sciencey things, and got his Majprs degree in that as well. In his Junior year, Marcus took advanced karate classes- where he learned stealth and self defense.
Other:--fun stuff ;D--
(This first one has a lot of history. Pay attention children)
Sexual Orientation: Straight
Played by: PuDdIn
